#yikes. I know it will be fine. I’m a good candidate. I’ve been at this institution for 5 years

[doctorweebmd]

in other news tomorrow is match #3 for me and I suicide ranked only my home program. So.

[dropofgoldensun]

omg hiiiii i am here from cat (@luvdsc) wondering if you could offer any advice about college apps 🙏 especially about the uc piqs? thank you so much i hope ur doing well!!!!!!!!

yes yes hello friend !! 💝 miss cat directed you to me because i did my college apps last year !!! (yikes one year passed already?? why does that feel ages ago 🤧)

first of all, congratulations on making the decision to apply to college !! i know it’s been hard for a lot of people our age to figure out the college situation recently, so i’m proud of you for choosing to take the extra step this summer to buckle up and write those essays 💞

i’ve compiled a few tips on answering the PIQs (i was actually in the middle of typing this up when i received your ask haha), but some of them can be applied to other essays, as well !! they’re all under the cut (because, unfortunately, being brief is not my forte) 😊

(and for reference, the prompts i chose were #2 (creativity), #6 (subject), #7 (community), and #8 (anything) !!)

tip #1: understand the prompt.

before you even begin writing, it’s important to understand what the question is really asking. for the UC PIQs, this will look different depending on which four prompts you decide to do.

in question one, for example, they want to know about your skills in leading others, but notice that they’re also curious about your resolution abilities and teamwork experience. or in question two, they don’t want to know that you paint and that you love painting—they could be asking how resourceful you are, how you think outside the box when you have an idea.

once you know the question you’re going to be answering, you can move on to brainstorming!

tip #2: write down three (3) key takeaways.

these are like the most basic, not-even-a-sentence answers you would give to each question. so for me, in response to question eight (“what do you believe makes you stand out as a strong candidate for the UCs?”), my answers were perseverance, courage, and character. i had a story about that, so i wrote about my experience with martial arts.

i recommend you do something similar. decide on three things that you want to communicate to your audience, and write them in the footnote of your document. your goal is to cover all three points so that, if anyone were to read your essay, they would walk away understanding those three things about you.

i found this strategy really helpful for keeping my essay streamlined while writing—if a sentence didn’t relate to any of those main points, i would cut it since those words would take up valuable space in the word count. stay focused on what needs to be in this essay, and if you have extra words left in the word count later, you can add those details back in.

and once you’re done with your essay, make sure to refer back to your takeaways and check that you covered all of them sufficiently!

tip #3: highlight your stories.

i sent cat an ask a couple days ago with a few pictures of my response to an end-of-year college counseling survey that referenced this tip (you can find it here). basically i said that, when choosing what topics to write about, pick things that interest you! if you get excited talking about it, your audience should get excited about reading it, because they’ll pick up on the passions you have and then everyone’s excited !!! :D

i’ll tell you a secret: everyone you meet, everyone you see, has countless unique experiences that few others may have. me? i spend hours making mashups out of kpop songs. i earned my black belt years after a traumatizing experience during training. i get russian harry potter and spanish dr. seuss books from the library. and i created a collaborative online google photos album for my classmates that now has thousands of entries. although these aren’t necessarily unique to only me, they’re still special enough to the point where, when you put them all together, you get a better image of the person i am, and what i value.

so find a story, a habit, a hobby that makes you different, because i believe that everyone has them. give them some food for thought, or that one-liner that sticks in their brain and won’t go away. and remember: these stories don’t all have to be extraordinary—they should be about people or moments of special value to you, because that’s what matters.

personal tip: when i was brainstorming ideas, i decided that the best way to get ideas out there was to go on a rant (because sometimes it helps to just have a conversation with yourself !!) and i recorded myself, so i could replay what i said !! this was so so crucial to me finding my own voice for writing essays. notice the way you word things when you talk—a good line or two may make it into the final draft :)

i found it helpful to read sample essays as well! they give a lot of great ideas on the kinds of topics people write about. (also, it’s kind of fun, because who doesn’t love a good story?)

but the people reading your essay won’t be there to just enjoy your story; what they really want you to do is to tell them what you learned from your experience. they want to know whether you’re teachable and willing to grow both as a student and as a young adult. so make sure to take note of the life lessons you learned, experience you gained, character you built, etc.

minor tip on ending your essay: if you’re telling a story that happened in the past, then close with what you learned and how you can apply that to your life moving forward. if you’re telling a story that has no definite end yet (like a passion or dream you have), you probably don’t have everything figured out (and you can say that in your essay!), so it might be better to close with your hopes for the future.

tip #4: ask your family for help.

peer-editing is one of the most effective ways to detect errors and inconsistencies in your writing, because, after staring at your essay for so long, you might gloss over glaring contradictions. for all of my essays, i printed them out and asked my parents to help me revise them. we’d meet every other night (or every night, depending on how much time was left) to review and discuss improvements.

i actually kept some of those printed drafts (only the first and the final ones for comparison), and let me tell you from experience—you’re probably going to have a lot of drafts (i think the most i did was seven? but you don’t need to go that far!). this part of the process does take some time, so remember to be patient and kind to yourself :) these essays won’t happen overnight!

enlisting the help of others also helps keep you accountable. one of the struggles many seniors face while writing essays is just... setting aside time to do them. and even though the constant reminders from your parents will definitely get repetitive and a bit stress-inducing, i can tell you from personal experience that i’m so glad they did; otherwise, i don’t think i’d have my essays done in time :’)

while writing college essays is challenging, your family will be there supporting you each step of the way. chances are that they’ll have their own pointers to pass on to you, since they probably remember doing this process themselves! and, out of everyone in your life, they probably remember the most about you (because you probably don’t remember much when you were four or five), so they might have a couple starter ideas for topics when brainstorming. you can rely on them for their advice and their experience.

tip #5: self-editing.

here’s the part that takes the longest time.

use action words. this is probably something you’ve heard all throughout elementary school where they didn’t like you to say “said” because it was “boring”… but honestly, the difference between “doing my own version” and “infusing it with my personality” could go a long way. also, use words that you would actually use in an essay—then it’ll have your own special flair, and not sound like it’s taken from some stuffy 80s textbook!

here are some of the words i used (once again, you shouldn’t use these words if they don’t sound like something you’d write/say): potential, overlay, wrestle, launch, analogous, weave, infuse, experiment, outlet, revel, fascinate, satisfaction, pursue, expand, distinction, capture, range, archive, engage, beyond, build, adversity, cultivate, preserve, commit, explore, convey, naturally

also, be on the lookout for repeated words. i once wrote an essay without noticing that i used “hope” three times in the same paragraph. don’t do that! use synonyms :) personally, i tended to run short on synonyms, so i always kept a tab or two open on my computer reserved for searching up new words.

side note: unfortunately, during my search for synonyms, i discovered that thesaurus.com just didn’t give me what i was looking for. i highly recommend using wordhippo instead; it has so many more options and they’re grouped by the different definitions of your word! i found the synonyms i needed really quickly and it was very satisfying!

avoid the passive voice! my teacher gave me this tip for theses or any other college-level writing. here’s an example of the passive voice: “there was a large part of me that wanted to turn back.” that’s twelve words taking up precious space in your word count! instead, say something like, “i considered turning back.” you’ve just freed up eight words :)

tip #6: final revisions.

this is the step where you fine-tune your essays. meet that word count.

read your writing out loud. does it sound like you? it should. every writer has a different voice, and you need to ensure that yours is pervasive throughout your essay. feel free to use contractions—not only do they reduce your word count (this was a good thing for me, since i had a problem with getting under 350 words), but they also give a more casual tone to your essay, as if you’re telling a story to someone in the room.

next, pretend to be an admissions officer and have someone else read your essay to you. do you get excited hearing about this student who shares your name? if you do, there’s a good chance the real admissions officers will love your essays, too. this also gives you a chance to review to your essay as a whole. pay attention to the overall flow. is there a clear beginning and end? do you resolve the issues and overcome the trials you brought up? listen to it as if it’s a story, and take this time to enjoy what you’ve written. you worked hard!

final thoughts / encouragements.

oh my goodness, did we make it to the end? honestly if you did, thank you so much 🥺

okay but despite my relatively optimistic tone throughout this post, i’m still going to be honest with you—the college essay writing process is difficult. it requires you to look inside yourself and analyze the “why” behind some of the things that you love, and that isn’t easy to do at all. it’s intellectually and emotionally challenging, because not only do you need to use so much energy writing, but you also have to dig deeper to understand yourself, and that’s not easy, either.

but i wanted to encourage you, too. no matter what you may think of yourself at 12am, 2am, 4am writing these essays, believe you have a personality that others love and will love when they meet you. you are an interesting person with unique experiences who deserves to share your thoughts with others. you have so many people behind you, supporting you during these next few months. and when you find that you can’t write any more, remember to take time to care for yourself. have a warm shower. go to bed early. i could go on and on about why sleep is good for your brain but i’ll spare you the details in this post 😉

one last thing: keep the bigger picture in focus. remember, by december or january, you will be finished with most of the application process. that’s no small accomplishment. you can do it. 💝

i really hope you found tips that you were looking for, and that they’re applicable to your own PIQs and other essays !! if you have any other questions, feel free to send in another ask (i promise my response won’t be this lengthy LOL) 💘💓

oh, and if you feel comfortable enough reaching out about anything in particular, i’m only a DM away 💕 i wish you the best of luck on writing your essays and i hope you enjoy your final year of high school !! 💗🌸💟💖

[themusicplayedherlife]

Some Sugar

5. it’s just manners to pretend

pairing: sugar daddy!steve rogers x reader characters: reader, steve rogers, others word count: 7k+ warnings: fluff, dom!steve?, mild smut, 18+ situations, exhibition kink?, dirty talk summary: everything has been perfect for you and Steve; on the night of gala things get a little steamy, but the bliss doesn’t last as long as you had hoped. a/n: yikes. It’s been half a year since I’ve updated and i apologize. 2020 hasn’t been the kindest to me or my family and I’m still reeling from everything that happened and is happening. i hope you guys enjoy this chapter and I’m sorry for any mistakes, will be revising it again soon just to make sure I got all of them out of the way! warning: there is mild smut near the end!

Esmeralda watches you from her place on the sofa, the remote in her hand jiggling and occasionally hitting her lips. It’s unnerving how intensely she’s staring at you.

Lifting your eyes momentarily from the daal you’re preparing for your mom, you ask, “What?”

“Nothing,” she says with a shrug, a little smile on her face.

You taste the tomato and the seasoning, finding it blander than you usually make it, but it’ll be perfect for your mom’s current taste-buds. “I know that look and that look doesn’t mean nothing.”

She sits up and makes her way over to you. “It’s just—I’m happy.”

You glance up at her and find her standing behind you. “Yeah?”

Her arms wrap around you and she nods into your back. “Having you and mom home, having a new place, it’s surreal.”

You exhale softly, the warm spices and the vegetables lingering in your nostrils as you maneuver Esmeralda to your side instead of having her cling to your back. “I know what you mean.”

“I hope it lasts.”

“It will.” You squeeze her, pressing a kiss to the top of her curls. “I promise it will.”

“I believe you.” She looks up at you, eyes narrowing, pout forming. “Just promise you won’t do anything stupid to keep it.”

You grin toothily, making another promise that she accepts by digging deeper into your side.

The sounds of the kitchen fill the air, Esmeralda sticking to your side, never leaving it even when you need to drain the lentils.

Your mom pads into the kitchen and upon seeing you two, she also presses herself against your other side; the three of you laugh and argue as they try to steal bites before you can even add the lemon juice into the dish. 

It’s normalcy; a normalcy you haven’t been able to experience in such a long time. And you wouldn’t let anyone take that away from you, not anymore.

“Are you sure you can be out here?” you ask Steve, keeping a, what you hope is inconspicuous, eye out as the escalator takes you downward onto the second floor. 

The mall is full of people shopping and taking advantage of the current sales, something you were also hoping to take advantage of, but now with Steve’s hand in yours, his warmth pressed to your side, you’re not sure it was such a good idea.

“We’ll be fine, sweetheart,” he promises softly into your ear, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of it. 

You look up at him and he smiles down at you, beautiful blue eyes still obstructed by stupid sunglasses. “We check out one store and then we leave okay?”

The corner of his pretty pink lips pull down into frown. “Don’t you want to take your time?”

Maybe in other circumstances you would’ve, but the thought of Steve being recognized while being with you, it has your little hairs on edge, practically standing with a life of their own.

“No,” you squeeze his hand, “I’ve got a dress in mind.” You had seen it online as you casually scrolled through the options Selena had helped you find, it was also the only one she added a message to—easy access? Just kidding! But seriously, isn’t this dress gorgeous? I think you’ll look lovely ❤️

The price was a little steep and a little out of your budget, but your mind wouldn’t stop picturing you in it—seeing that the store was having a sale only solidified your decision.

Stepping away from the escalator, he tugs you as close as he can get you, eyes ever vigilant like the soldier he is. It’s something you’ve noticed whenever you’re outside of the safety of his car, and you guess it comes with being an Avenger. But you’re starting to think it might be—more often than not—for your benefit, because any time someone so happens to take a candid picture of him with one of the other Avengers, he doesn’t seem to be this alert.

You squeeze his hand and when he glances down at you, his mouth relaxes into a soft smile, one that makes you push up on your toes and press a light kiss to. He chases after you when you pull away, pouting when you teasingly refuse to meet his lips once more.

“Baby,” he whines, soft and sweet and all you do is smile, tugging him towards your destination. 

The store you chose is more of a boutique, less of a chain store. A lot of their dresses are unique to them, carrying only a few name brand items like Marc Jacobs, Chanel, Dior and a few other names you don’t recognize such as Bouchra Jarrar.

Unlike the surrounding area, the store is quiet with a low hum of music playing from their speakers. Strong perfume attacks your nostrils the very moment Steve opens the door for you, and you’re not sure whether you like the smell or not. It’s not sweet like the ones you’d usually smell at a Macy’s or JCPenny, but it’s not dry either—jasmine, maybe?

“Welcome,” a woman dressed in black immediately greets you, a practiced polite smile already in place over her smooth skin. “Is there anything I could help you with?”

It’s a little intimidating the way she seems to stare into you, as if she knows you’re not the type of person to usually walk into stores like this one, but you push that thought away, instead taking on a smile to mirror hers. “Yes, thank you. I’m actually looking for a blue dress—lantern sleeves and tulle gown?”

“We may have the dress you’re looking for.” Her eyes light up with recognition and she leads you further in where there are a few lingering customers and employees. Steve pays them no mind, ignoring the blatant stares to his physique as he removes and pockets his sunglasses and instead keeps close to you and occasionally surveying the store and it’s wares.

She asks you your size, and once you give her your measurements, asks you and Steve to wait for a moment, disappearing into the back where you assume they keep their dresses not on display and their variety of sizes.

Wrapping an arm around Steve, you find him glancing around still, a little stiff, only relaxing when his eyes settle on yours.

“Mind taking the dress home with you?”

“Why?” He frowns, curious as to why you wouldn’t want to take it with you.

You reach up to run your thumb over a corner of his lips, saying, “Esme has a tendency to go through my things.”

“Trying to steal your clothes?” he asks, lips lifting into a half smirk.

“She’s too tiny to fit into my clothes.” You laugh and shake your head. “She’s just used to having to go through my things to find hers. It’s a habit that comes with having to share a space.”

His gaze softens and he cups your jaw. “What about now?”

“She sometimes sneaks into my bed in the middle of the night.” You sigh with exasperated fondness. “But I can’t say I mind. It’s weird having so much space to myself now.”

His thumb brushes over your cheekbone. “A good weird?”

“A good weird,” you assure him, leaning into his touch.

“Good.”

Someone clears their throat and you and Steve are slow to detach yourselves from one another, in no complete hurry to face the saleswoman. It’s a little embarrassing having been caught in such an intimate position, but looking around the store, it makes you realize that you might’ve been caught a long time ago and neither of you noticed.

Steve just makes it so easy to forget your surroundings when he looks at you, makes you feel like you’re in a space of your own. It’s such a weird thing to say about someone you met only a few weeks ago, but it’s true. Whether you’re at the bar, or in his car, or even talking on the phone, it’s as if you’re the only two people in the room.

That’s a little dangerous when you think about it, but it doesn’t really matter to you. You like feeling like you’re the center of his universe and he probably likes being the center of yours too, if the way he squeezed you to him is of any indication.

“May this be the dress you’re looking for?”

Your eyes widen as she brandishes the gown, holding it up for you to see it. “Yes!”

Steve chuckles and you look up at him in question, finding him looking down at you with delight. 

“You’re vibrating,” he teases you. “It’s cute.”

Light embarrassment overcomes you, but you still face the lady. “May I try it on?”

“Of course! This way, ma’am.”

You’re quick to follow her, excusing yourself from Steve and he lets you go reluctantly, promising to wait by the loveseats. You don’t leave without a quick kiss to his cheek.

It takes a minute to get on the dress and you absolutely adore it! It looks amazing on you! There’s some changes that need to be done to the bodice, but other than that—

“You look phenomenal,” the sales lady gushes as soon as you step out. 

But you don’t really care what she thinks, instead you focus on Steve, and your heart just about does somersaults at the way his gaze drinks you in—shades of blue glowing bright as they take down the length of your body, the tips of his ears turning red, and pretty pink lips smacking together.

“What do you think?” you murmur, unsure if he’d heard you, but he does, of course he does.

“Beautiful,” is his one word reply, said in one breath and you practically melt. “So beautiful.”

“Yeah?” You shyly duck your head, grabbing the tulle skirt and pulling slightly to show off the slit a bit more. “Not too much?”

“It’s just right, baby,” he says, soft and sweet. “Let me get it for you?”

“No,” you respond with a shake of your head, already heading into the dressing room to change. “I’m paying for it! Besides they’ll probably need to do some alterations first.”

“We may need to adjust the bodice,” the lady helping you informs him, slipping into the room with you, measuring tape in hand and is quick to have you stand still and write down your measurements. “And the length of the sleeve.”

She steps out and you change into your day wear hastily when you hear Steve and the lady murmuring behind the closed door.

“Steve,” you start, barging out of the room to find him standing alone, flashing you a shit eating grin. You groan internally, narrowing your eyes in his direction.

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t give me that look.”

“You paid for it.” Not a question, but a fact, one he doesn’t deny. 

“Paid a little extra to have the dress done on time and to have it delivered to my place, too.” And he says it so proudly.

“Steve!”

“It’ll be easier this way.” He shushes you, collecting you into his arms and leads you to the front of the store where the lady is ringing him up. “We can get ready at my place, maybe have a bit of dinner and then head out.”

You sigh, knowing there’s no point in arguing with him; the deed’s done and he’s not about to change his mind. “Fine,” you relent, leaning into him and smiling up at him, “but only if I get to make dinner.”

“We’ll both make dinner,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple, lacing his fingers with yours.

“I can’t believe you’re going to a gala,” Selena says, her voice filtering through your earphones as you climb up the stairs of the station and out into the streets of Brooklyn. “A Stark gala no less! Remember when we thought that was impossible?”

“Still is, Sel.”

“For me maybe, not for you.” She snorts.

“Yeah, but for how long?” You sigh heavily. “You overestimate this arrangement.”

“Oh, shut it! You’re not already thinking of ending it with Steve, are you?” 

“Of course not,” you sputter, ignoring the glare a bald man with a scar on his lip sends you after bumping into you. Seriously, why get mad at you when he’s the one that bumped in to you?

“I would surely hope not, my love.” There's some shifting on her end and her voice lowers, “You need this. And according to what you’ve told me, he needs this too.”

“I know,” you agree, keeping your voice low. “This has been good, I think.”

“Not you think, it definitely has been.” She sighs dreamily. “I’m so happy for you. Things are starting to look up!”

A siren suddenly whirls to life, a cop car zooming by you in the opposite direction.

“Heads up, though—” you hum in response, checking the address Steve sent you again—“Esme is a little suspicious.”

That makes you pause, lifting your gaze from your phone. “What do you mean?”

“She doesn’t believe your story about the house.”

Your heart drops to your stomach. “Are you sure?” You thought she had bought it! But you should’ve known Esme would catch on. Everything about the move was too smooth and sudden. You let out a frustrated groan. “Please tell me—“

She doesn’t need to let you finish to know what you’re asking. “Who do you think I am? Of course I didn’t.” You know she wouldn’t, but Esmeralda can be pretty relentless when she wants to be. “I doubled down and backed you up.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too.” She laughs, but it dies down with a sigh of her own. “But be careful. Esme is smart, ridiculously smart. She’s not going to let this go. She’s bound to find out and I still think you should tell her before she does.”

“I—I know. I just… I don’t want her to think badly of me.”

“Darl’, that little girl has always looked up to you,” she coos. “Nothing you do will ever change that. You could probably murder someone and she’d help you get rid of the body and destroy any evidence that could possibly convict you without you needing to ask.”

You laugh and bite your lip. “She would, wouldn’t she?”

“Of course! And besides, being a sugar baby is nothing to be ashamed of. She’d probably be cheering you on with me!”

You really hope so.

“She loves her family.” That’s… not entirely true.

“JC?” You mostly say it out of jest, but there’s truth in you questioning her affections towards JC. She has strong feelings towards him, not exactly the kind that are positive. When she found out JC was gone, seven year old Esme called him a coward and told you not to cry for him, that you didn’t need him when you had her.

God. No seven year old should feel the need to say that or even feel that way to begin with. Not about their big brother who should be protecting her.

She sighs. “Your brother is an asshole and your sister never really knew him, not like you.” She’s right, but you can’t help but worry still. You don’t want to disappoint her. Not like he did. “Speaking of him… has your aunt mentioned him again? Have you seen her?”

“No to both,” you admit. Thankfully. “Not since I paid off mom’s loan. Probably doesn’t even know we moved.”

“Good. Let's hope it stays that way.”

“Do you—do you think she could’ve been lying?”

She’s silent for a moment, enough to make you think the connection might’ve dropped. “From what you’ve told me about her, your aunt would do anything to rile you up. That’s probably why your dad kept her at arm's length.”

“Yeah…” 

You turn into a quiet neighborhood of beautiful brownstones, like the ones you’d see on TV or in random searches on Zillow worth over millions of dollars. It’s like being hit by whiplash walking through this neighborhood—too clean, too quiet, too nice, so many trees too.

It’s almost eerie. 

You scoff silently at yourself—it’s just a neighborhood. Sure, a quiet one and nothing like your old bustling neighborhood full of yells and laughter, smells of platano frito, pan dulce, costilla de puerco en salsa verde, and all types of cuisine filling the air, but Steve wouldn’t live around this area if he didn’t think it were secure.

“Why don’t we change the subject, huh? Are you ready for tonight?”

“Nervous,” you admit, fiddling with the cord of your earphones.

This is a huge event, one full of Avengers and many other influential people. Any wrong move on your part will put not only you, but Steve under scrutiny. But Steve had assured you that you’ll do fine. He’ll be by your side all evening and if it becomes too much, you’ll both leave. 

“We’re a team,” he had said after you opposed leaving just because you weren’t comfortable. “The moment something or someone makes you feel uncomfortable, you let me know and we’ll get out of there—no questions asked.”

“But also excited,” you whisper, almost afraid of the fact that you are excited. There’s been a bubbling in your chest since the moment you woke up that you couldn’t quite distinguish as nerves, excitement, or both.

When Selena mentioned how you and her used to talk about attending a Stark event as big as a gala one day, she was putting it lightly. 

You both used to spend hours scrolling through the university computers and dream of what you’d wear, make jokes about how you’ll talk and walk and try to fit in for a night—until you’d both get warned by one of the computer lab workers that you were being too loud. 

But they were just that, dreams. Now, here you were, about to get ready for one and not only that, you were going to attend the event with one of the most eligible bachelors known to man. And you’d be lying to yourself if you’d say you weren’t excited.

“I bet!” She laughs and she suddenly grows quiet on her end, barely heard murmuring reaching your ears. She sighs. “Unfortunately, I have to go, but you will update me tomorrow!”

“I promise.”

“Enjoy the night for the both of us, please! Love you!”

Laughing, you wish her a good evening and “love you, too,” before hanging up. It doesn’t take you long to find Steve’s place soon after that.

His brownstone home is identical to the others except for maybe being a darker shade of brick. Climbing up the steps, you dig out the key Steve had given you the other day and let yourself in.

Immediately you’re hit by the smell of seasoned chicken and the sounds of sizzling—of course he started cooking without you. Always wanting to take care of you.

“Steve?” You call for him, removing your belongings and hanging them up on the mounted coat rack.

“Kitchen, sweetheart!

You shake your head and eye the foyer, noticing the rack of shoes by the bay window and place your own shoes next to Steve’s. Your sock covered feet pad against the light wood flooring.

“You started without me?”

“Just the chicken!” He calls back as you move past the living room and dining room—they're simple and modern, sleek designs that compliment each other. The walls, however, are empty.

It hardly looks lived in. There’s nothing out of place, except for maybe the jacket hanging over the back of the sofa, but that’s it. Reminds you a little bit of those Architectural Digest home tours you see on YouTube or like a staged home for sale.

You frown. Maybe Steve just likes it all very clean?

Steve’s back is to you, keeping an eye on the chicken on the pan. He only turns his head when you wrap your arms around him. 

“Hey, sweetheart, find the place all right?”

“Yep!” You hum, leaning slightly to get a peek of the chicken—golden and with little specks of Italian seasoning. Looks so good! “Your place is really nice.”

“It’s okay.” He chuckles, doing his best to press a kiss to the top of your head, and you help him by standing on your toes. “Most of the furniture was picked out by Natasha and Tony.” Ah, well that makes sense. “Guess I should thank them for it.”

“You should.” Untangling yourself from him, you walk over to the kitchen’s island where the sink is and wash your hands. “What do you need help with?”

“Salad.” He motions to the veggies placed on the countertop. “The pasta can wait for a bit longer.”

“Yea, sir.” You nod and dry your hands with his light blue hand towel. 

You both work in tandem and dinner is served in no time, the two of you sitting at the island instead of the dining table.

“Bucky and Sam live here part time,” Steve tells you after a leisure sip of his wine. “Well, Bucky does. Sam is slowly starting to move into Sharon’s. The house was too big for me when I first got it and Bucky and Sam jumped in to be roommates.”

“That’s pretty sweet.” You crack a smile. 

He chuckles, eyes falling to his clean plate, having eaten more than one serving. “It’s not much different from living on the compound.”

“Wait, you live there too?”

He nods. “It’s easier, more practical. Sometimes a mission takes too much time and can be pretty tiring.” That also makes sense. “I guess I also only live here part time.

“I was actually going to offer you and your family to live here, but I thought since it might be a little weird to explain to your family two Avengers coming and going at random intervals wouldn’t be ideal,” he admits, rubbing his neck sheepishly. “Sam actually helped find the place you’re currently living in. The owner is an old friend of his, who was looking to rent.”

You watch him carefully, the way his eyes waver from you to the plate, the tip of his ears burning—not able to keep his gaze on you for long.

“What if I told Esme?”

He finally meets your gaze, eyebrow raised.

“About you—us—our arrangement,” you stumble over your words, trying to pick them correctly, but you’re not very good at it. “I know you’re okay with it, but we did agree not to tell anyone. Then again, Selena knows.”

He nods slowly, already aware that your best friend knows. “And most of the team knows, too.” Which is still completely wild to you.

“It’s a little odd explaining this.” You push your empty plate away and bite your lip, gesturing to him and you. “I wouldn’t know how to tell my mom, but Esme…”

“If it’s what you want, I think you should.” He smiles reassuringly, his large hand settling on top of yours on the marble top and covering it completely with his warmth.

“It is.” You turn your palm over to intertwine your fingers with his. “And—and I think she’d like you.”

You know she would. All Esme has ever wanted for you is the best and your happiness, so you know she would.

“And I’m sure I’ll like her.” He grins. 

Steve’s shower is amazing. It’s basically a warm waterfall drenching you fully as you wash away the day’s grime. Steve had told you it was his favorite part of the master bathroom and you now know why. Your plan to spend a short amount of time cleaning up is completely thrown out the window the moment you turned it on.

But you force yourself to hurry—you have plans, and although you would like to spend hours in the shower, it’s best to start getting ready for the night.

You wrap yourself up in the fluffy towel Steve set out for you and promptly dry yourself. 

Steve makes noise as he moves around in the other room, the hallway walk-in-closet, as you first called it when Steve led you through it from the master bedroom to the bathroom.

You do your best to get ready in a timely manner, drying your hair and doing something quick, easy, but still elegant enough that no one will notice you were in a rush. As for makeup, you also go with something easy. You do your usual routine, but add in a bit more color to your lids and lips, and even dramatic, fake lashes to make your eyes pop. With a few spritz of setting spray, you deem yourself almost presentable.

Slipping on your dress, you reach as best as you can and try to zip yourself up, but it’s futile, you need help.

“Steve!” He answers you with a loud, “yeah?” “Can you come here for a minute?” The door opens and he walks in, completely focused on fiddling with his cuff link. “Do you mind—“ your question trails off when his gaze lifts to your form and comes to a sudden halt. 

But you hardly notice his gawking, your own eyes trailing over his dressed form—Fuck. He looks good. Too good. Can’t keep my hands to myself, good. His royal blue dress shirt matches your dress and it absolutely looks delicious on his toned body. And those dress pants? God, they’re clinging to his thighs.

“You look like an absolute dream, baby.” Arms wrap around your form and he slowly zips you up, his eyes trapping you in place. 

“So do you.” Your breath hitches when his eyes drop to your lips and back up to your eyes. 

“If I told you we should stay in and have our own party—“ his forehead falls to yours—“what would you say?”

“We have plans, soldier.” You wrap your arms around his neck and laugh under your breath. “Can’t just drop them.”

He groans and the sound punches you in the ovaries, a little mewl escaping your lips and he pulls you closer to him—chest to chest. “Can I at least kiss you before we leave?”

“You can kiss me anytime, Cap.”

He does and it’s mind blowing, a mess of teeth and tongues and he makes it so hard to breathe, but you don’t want to pull away, instead you sink your hands into his hair, his once perfectly well done hair, and tug firmly. He groans into the kiss, chest rumbling against yours and he pulls away, leaving you chasing him in disappointment.

“Sorry, honey.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all, in fact, he sounds pleased. That little shit, he’s enjoying teasing you! His fingers trace your bottom lip and you refuse to open your eyes. You have a feeling if you catch sigh of him, you won’t want to let him go. “I’d love to kiss you all night, but you’re right, we have plans.”

“Is it too late to change my answer?” you joke as his thumb leaves your lip and you finally open your eyes only to regret it. His lips look so pretty swollen and red, eyes absolutely dark and delicious—blues of his eyes only a thin ring. Would he mind if you just tackled him to the ground and took him right there and then?

“The car should be here any minute now.” He chuckles, slowly stepping away from you. 

And although you’re both getting ready to leave, you can’t help but think tonight might be the night.

Your leg bounces as the Compound comes into view. Your eyes are practically glued to the window, watching the line of cars and all the glamorous people that step out of each one. They all look so sophisticated and well put together, and here you are, a sugar baby trying to fit in.

Shit. Maybe you’re more nervous than you thought you were. Is it too late to turn the car around now?

Warmth wraps around your hand and lifts it, surprising you and finally pulling you away from the window.

Lines are apparent on his forehead, but there’s a reassuring smile on his lips as he kisses the back of your hand. “You’ll do fine, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your shoulders sagging. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

“Do you want to head back?” His lips tug down into a frown and he squeezes your hand. “I can ask the driver to—“

“No, no!” You quickly shake your head. “I’m fine—I’ll be fine,” you correct when he raises an eyebrow. “I just—don’t let go of my hand?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he tells you softly, pressing another kiss to your hand. “Remember, if at any moment you feel uncomfortable, we can leave.”

“I know.” You smile and kiss him tenderly, pulling away with a soft smack. “And I will, promise.”

He studies you for a moment and then nods. He keeps you preoccupied until you’re at the front, playing with your fingers and tugging at them as he asks you questions about your family. It puts you at ease enough that when he’s helping you out of the car, you don’t recoil away from the flash of the mandatory picture of each guest.

He leads you into the sleek, large building, hooking your arm in his and resting his other arm over your hand. You follow closely, but he makes it easy by keeping his strides short and easy for you.

The main room is full of people milling about and seemingly flashing their checkbooks around with how they’re dressed to the nines in brand names.

Compared to what they’re wearing, the decorations are pretty simple—elegant, but simple: golds, oranges and yellows with silvers and blues—all warm colors to make people more at ease and enjoy their time with a hint of cold colors to contrast.

You let Steve maneuver you around, eyes on you the moment you step into their line of vision—you can almost see the questions on the tip of their tongue as their eyes follow you. But Steve ignores them and so do you.

“Captain Rogers!” A man calls out and Steve squeezes your hand before letting go and shaking the hand of the approaching man.

“Secretary Ross,” Steve greets him stiffly.

“Ah, I see you brought a date,” he says, as if noticing you for the first time and you smile at him, ready to introduce yourself but he continues, “And here I was hoping I could finally convince you to take my daughter out on a date.”

Your eyebrows furrow—what is that supposed to mean? It’s a subtle jab, that much is obvious, but for what reason?

Steve’s arm flexes under your hand and his jaw ticks as he introduces you since the douche didn’t even allow you to do so yourself. “As you can see, Secretary, I’m in very good company.” 

“We do hope you find the perfect date for your daughter by the end of the night, Secretary Ross.” You smile placidly—at least, you hope you do. 

He frowns as if you’ve just insulted him and his next of kin, but you just continue to smile. “Yes, well, I do hope you enjoy the night.” He excuses himself, probably to bother a different guest.

“What was that about?” you wait until he’s gone to ask, keeping your voice low.

“His daughter Betty is with Bruce—Hulk, I mean,” he explains softly. “He’s never approved and is constantly trying to push her onto someone else.”

“That someone else being you?” What a dick of a father. Shouldn't he be glad his daughter is with someone she loves and loves her in return?

“Unfortunately.”

“And that man is our Secretary of State?” You ask with distaste. “How does he even handle foreign affairs?”

“Not very well,” Steve answers without missing a beat. “He's made many questionable decisions in the past and continues to do so.” He leads you further into the room. “He drafted the Sokovia Accords and almost divided the team, even wanted to lock up Wanda, deeming her too dangerous.” He sighs heavily. “It was an ordeal, but thanks to T’Challa we were somehow able to stand united.”

“You took a stand.” You can’t say you know much about the Accords, you were too busy watching your grade slip and debating on whether or not to focus on work and drop out of school. “Giving government's power over controlling super powered humans and trained assassins is always a spell for disaster.”

“You have no idea,” he mutters. “I’m sorry about the way he acted.”

“It’s fine.” You wave it away, not wanting to dwell too long on it.

“It’s not fine, but this probably won’t be the last exchange like this.”

“I figured.” You sigh. “I can handle it, Steve, I’ve worked customer service for years. If I can deal with a few self-entitled customers, I can deal with self-entitled rich people for a night.”

He chuckles, eyes brightening. “You won’t be handling it alone, I’m right here with you.”

“And I appreciate it.” You beam up at him and lean your head on his shoulder.

“Steve,” another voice calls out, but this one is much more raspier and feminine.

“Natasha,” Steve greets her with a friendly smile, “this is—“

“I know.” Natasha is one word: intimidating. Her eyes are studying you, taking you in—sizing you up. Not that you blame her. 

You’re a complete stranger, someone outside of their world, and here you are, in her space while clinging to the arm of a man she most likely considers a brother.

“You handled Secretary Ross well.” Her analyzing breaks with a smile, and somehow, that’s even more nerve wrecking. “Most people would have been intimidated by a man with his influence.”

“You aren’t,” you find yourself muttering and she quirks an eyebrow up in amusement. 

“No, no I’m not.” She turns to Steve. “I like her.” She then turns to you with narrowed eyes full of amusement. “I like you.”

“Thank you?” That’s surprising, but you’ll take it. 

Steve chuckles, squeezing your hand resting on his bicep.

“Tony and Pepper are by the stage with the others, they’re all waiting to meet you,” she informs you with a crooked smile. “Steve hasn’t stopped talking about you for weeks now, so everyone's a little curious about you.”

“Oh.” You blink. “Should we go over then?”

By the end of the night, you’re already making plans for a girl’s night with the women of the Team. They’re all so kind to you, especially Wanda, who just radiates warmth. She becomes your favorite Avenger, aside from Steve, of course. You just don’t understand how someone would want to lock her up, brand her as a danger to society.

She smiles shyly at you as she tells you about her current culinary adventures. It’s sweet, she’s sweet.

Clint and Sam are an absolute hoot, making you cramp up in laughter and Bucky is a little guarded, but he also makes you laugh with a couple insults he throws their way.

He raises his eyebrows at you and makes a motion to Clint and Sam, mouthing, “Idiots.”

Tony, however, surprises you. Your dad used to tell you stories about him, how he hardly ever spent time at either branches of Stark Industries and if he were ever present, he always seemed to be bored and in his own world. But seeing him here, with his arm around Pepper, a beautiful engagement ring on her finger, he doesn’t match the description he gave you. Tony watches over the group with an almost father-like gaze, completely relaxed by their presence even if he cracks a few jokes at their expense.

“Welcome to the circus,” he had told you, deadpanned, but his eyes danced with joy and a calm you don’t think he would ever be equated to.

When you had called them Steve’s family, you hadn’t realized how deep their bonds truly went. There’s no denying they care for each other and view one another as a large family that just keeps growing bigger with every new addition. You admire and envy them for that, being able to stay together no matter what. 

Most of the guests are gone midnight—thank god because you were tired of having to smile at them and listen to their judgmental tones as they took you in—and your group retires to the commons area by their residential—or so Steve tells you. By this point, after two glasses of champagne and walking around greeting guests, you’re completely lost and tired.

“Want to rest?” Steve asks you, when your eyes flutter close multiple times, your breath evening out steadily. And you nod, both of you excusing yourselves for the night.

His room is dark, the city lights barely filtering in through the thin, white curtains. He doesn’t close the door behind him as he steps in after you, he doesn’t even say anything, just allows you to take in his room—large king bed low enough to touch the floor covered by a blue and grey duvet and different pillows of navy blue and white; light, wooden headboard matching the two night stands on either side and simple dresser to your right across from the bed and next to a door that most likely leads to a private bathroom; large, white rug, covering the floor and muting the clinking of your heels; blue armchair next to a standing lamp and a small bookcase drilled into the wall in the corner of the room—almost identical to the one back in Brooklyn, just a little more personal and lived in.

You’re much more awake now as you sit on the navy blue ottoman pressed against the end of the bed. “It’s simple,” you murmur. Much more lived in than his Brooklyn home, however.

“What were you expecting?” He asks, amusement laced into his words as your eyes drift over to him still standing by the door, watching you fondly.

“I don’t know? American flags, memorabilia, you know, the usual for an old man like you,” you tease and he chuckles, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dress pants. You watch him as the room falls into silence and he just stands there, eyes never staying on you for too long. The grip on your clutch tightens and you feel the question you’ve been wanting to ask build up in your throat, blood pumping as you try to push it out. “Do you—are we—“

You feel like an idiot, an awkward teen about to have sex for the first time with their long time crush.

“We don’t have to,” he says, gentle and firm. It’s reassurance, he’s trying to reassure you like he did when he first came to you with this whole proposition—sex is optional. “I, ah, I had a room prepared for you just in case.”

“You didn’t have to,” you whisper, gaze dropping to your black heels.

“I wanted to,” he tells you, your eyes lifting to meet his as he walks over to you. “I want you to feel comfortable with… this—with me. I know none of this is easy—“

You’re aware that if it weren’t for the prospects of being able to give Esme a better chance at life, of telling your aunt off, of being able to pay for your mom’s medical bills, you wouldn’t have accepted any of this. 

But you did sign up for this, you’re being paid for this.

Now, however, it’s become much more than that. If it hadn't been for Steve—sweet and willing Steve—trying to make this worthwhile for you, never pressuring you to do things that might make you uncomfortable, protecting you and defending you in lieu of jealous gossip and snarky comments, you would have crumbled under the pressure already.

Would sleeping with Captain America be the worst thing to happen to you? No. No, it wouldn’t. Not when it’s Steve Rogers behind the cowl.

He stands in front of you now, gaze soft and full of assurance that has your breath stalling in your throat. “—that I’m asking a lot out of you, but you’ve been nothing but patient, and I—I want you to know that your safety, your feelings, are important—“

“I want to sleep with you,” you breathe out as you stand, words coming out jumbled and pressed together.

His eyebrows knit together, weaving in confusion and he pauses, trying to process and make sense of what you’ve just babbled. It takes a minute, but soon his expression clears and he just stares down at you, breath fanning over your lips and eyes searching for something in yours. “Are you sure?” he asks, voice low and heavy, unsure and wanton. 

Your eyes lower to his pink lips and back up, his blue eyes hazy and dark now, the light streaming into the room lighting them in a way that has heat pooling in your stomach and rising to your chest and cheeks. “Yes.”

He cups your jaw in his hand, thumb caressing your cheeks gingerly. “Tell me what you want, darlin’.”

“You. I want you, Steve. I want all of you.”

And that’s all it takes for his lips to descend on yours hungrily, arms falling to wrap around your waist and tug you impossibly close to his chest, hips snug against his. His large hand smooths up and down your bare back, no longer teasing you like earlier. His fingertips warm as they trail over your exposed back and you take hold of the lapels of his jacket.

He drinks your blissful sigh, responding with a groan of his own as the hand that held your hips to his slips down to the curve of your ass, kneading and caressing as his hip juts forward.

You gasp at the feel of his growing bulge grinding against you and you pull away from his kiss to throw your head back in a quiet moan. His lips latch onto your chin, trailing down to your neck and nibbling—his hips, his hands, they’re all too much and yet too little. You want more. You want to feel more of him—see more of him. 

Your hands slip under his jacket and he understands, briefly pulling away to shrug the article of clothing off swiftly, before pressing himself against you again. You make quick work of his belt, clumsy fingers untucking his shirt and undoing buttons. Teeth clash and tongues dance as he slips the straps of your dress down your shoulders.

Noise coming from outside registers in your mind between the moaning and groaning, and you’re suddenly acutely aware of the open door and your disheveled appearance. “Door,” you rasp out, lips brushing against his.

“Why not keep it open?” he teases and chuckles when your eyes widen, your already heated skin getting hotter. 

He’s a fucking menace.

His lips trail to your earlobe and you suppress a squeal as he presses kisses and nibbles on it. “Imagine someone passing by and just hearing those cute little moans you make when I touch you just right.” He bunches the skirt of your dress over your ass, hand slipping into your panties and gripping your flesh tightly. “Their curiosity getting the better of them right at the moment you come undone by my fingers.”

“Steve,” you mewl. Who knew Captain America was so dirty?

His thumb smooths over your swollen lip as his fingers gripping your ass dip lower. You let out a whimper and grip his open shirt tightly in your fists as they tease at your entrance. 

“But then again, you make the sexiest expressions and I don’t want anyone other than me to see them,” he murmurs. A long, thick finger slips in and you just about keel over, his arm quickly wraps around your waist to hold you in place as he chuckles darkly. He nudges your cheek with his nose to make you look up at him, and shy eyes meet his heated ones. Sucking in a breath, he kisses you softly, and whispers, “Definitely not letting anyone see.”

You groan, rolling over and searching for the warmth that had been encasing you into the late hours of the night. But it’s gone, and that has you sitting up urgently, your breath coming out ragged as you try to blink through your sleepy haze.  

Steve is nowhere to be found, room abnormally quiet without his light snores. You call for him softly. When you get no answer, you call for him again, louder this time.

“If you’re looking for Captain Rogers, he is in the commons area.”

“Fuck!” You startle almost rolling off the bed, hands flying to your racing heart to steady yourself. “You scared me Friday.”

“I’m sorry, Miss, it was not my intention.”

“No, uh, you’re good,” you tell the AI, a little awkwardly and unsure of how to speak to it—her? “Thank you for letting me know—about Steve, I mean.”

“Of course.”

Your bare feet touch the ground and pad against the cold flooring of the Compound, the sweet ache between your legs making you move slowly. You find a random hoodie in his closet and throw it on along with a pair of his boxers. You look ridiculous, but you’re not about to wear your dress from last night.

You slip out of his room, following the path that Steve led you through last night. You’re pretty sure this was the way to the commons area from last—you pause, eyes landing on Steve’s back and the other members of the Avengers surrounding a blue light.

“And you’re sure these schematics aren’t familiar to you?”

“Hate to break it to you, Capsicle. But I’m not the only one who's dealt with weapons dealing,” Tony moves away from the table, grumbling.

Oh, shit. Are they having a meeting? Friday did not tell you the Avengers were having a secret meeting that you should probably not be eavesdropping on, maybe it’s best to—wait. Those blueprints—they can’t be—

Steve quickly turns around at the small gasp that escapes your lips and approaches you, ready to turn you around. “Sweetheart? What are you doing—“

You ignore Steve, sidestepping him to stand right in front of the hologram of the hovering weapon, spinning in place, blue light illuminating your face. Your eyes rove over the equations and the break down of each part and—no, it can’t be! “Where did you get these?”

“Uh, mission?” Clint answers, looking around the room.

“You’ve seen ‘em before?” Bucky asks, calculating blue eyes on you, watching every minuscule gesture you make and any emotion that might flash over your face.

You swallow harshly, eyes never leaving the familiar blueprints—the ones your dad spent hours pouring over. But they’re different, the kinetic energy intake and output, the trigger—a bomb? “They were my father’s.”

[jumukus]

A3! Translation: Tenma Sumeragi’s R [+3Ghosts!] - Flexibility Verification

In order to prove that his body has become flexible, Tenma joins a flexibility battle with Summer Troupe and two special contestants.

Kumon: One, two, three, four!

Misumi: One, two, triangle! One, two, triangle!

Kazunari: Since there'll be dance scenes in our play, we've gotta do some stretching carefully before rehearsal!

Muku: Speaking of which, Tenma-kun, your body has gotten more flexible with every play, right?

Tenma: Compared to before, my body has indeed gotten more flexible.

Kumon: Is there anything you're paying attention to whenever you do some stretching?

Tenma: Tasuku-san taught me an effective way to stretch that helps your body be more flexible. Hisoka-san also gave me advice--.

--No, forget it. It's nothing.

Yuki: Advice?

Kazunari: Huh, why!? It just got me even more curious, man! What kind of advice did Hisohiso give you?

Tenma: I said, forget it.

Misumi: I wanna know too~! Tell us, Tenma!

Tenma: …

...Put some fluffy feelings into it, just like marshmallows…

Muku: What?

Kumon: Marshmallows…

Misumi: Fluffy feelings~?

Yuki: Pfft… You're kidding, right? And you really believe that?

Kazunari: That's so adorable of you, Tenten!

Tenma: This is exactly why I didn't wanna tell you all!

Muku: But what's important is trying to do the stretching with that feeling!

Yuki: I think no one will ever have a hard time if that kind of thing can help your body be flexible, though.

Maybe this crappy actor's body doesn't really become flexible. It might be your imagination.

Tenma: ...If you say so, I'll prove that my body has really gotten flexible.

Muku: How will you prove that, though?

Tenma: Since all of you are pretty much flexible, I'll prove that I'm the most flexible one among us.

Kazunari: So you mean we're gonna do a flexibility battle!?

Kumon: Wow! Sounds fun! Let's do it!

Yuki: Yikes, so troublesome.

Kazunari: In that case let's hold the battle on another day! We’ll have a rehearsal after this, after all.

Misumi: Okaay! Ehehe, I'm looking forward to it~!

Kazunari: Thanks for waiting y'all! We're finally holding our flexibility battle!

Kumon: Yeaay!

Kazunari: Moreover, today, we have two special participants joining us~!

Give a round of applause to our special guests! Ta-da! We have Tsumutsumu and Itarun with us today! The two just happen to be at the dorm!

Tsumugi: Umm, thank you for having us.

Itaru: I was told you're doing something for Summer Troupe's role-building. I don't really get it, but I've been brought here…

Yuki: ...Of all people, it really has to be these two.

Tenma: Tsumugi-san, Itaru-san… Did you know we're gonna do a flexibility battle?

Tsumugi: Huuuh, is that so?

Itaru: You clearly picked the wrong person. Lol.

Tsumugi: My body is so stiff I don't think you can even call me an opponent…

Itaru: Same. Having two people with stiff bodies in your battle is meaningless, y'know?

Kazunari: It's fine, man! It's more fun to have more people with us!

Kumon: Besides, stretching will make you feel good!

Misumi: Yep, yep! Let's do this together, Itaru, Tsumugi~.

Tsumugi: You have a point. Since I’m already here, I guess I’ll join the battle.

Itaru: Well… I'll join for now, but don't expect too much.

Kazunari: Without further ado, let's begin our flexibility battle!

Kazunari: For our first round, bend from the hips and legs straight and head nearly to the ground!

Muku: We'll measure how far you can bend forward from the platform.

Kazunari: We'll be using this tape measure!

Kumon: Alright! Let's decide on the order with rock paper scissors! Rock, paper, scissors!

Tenma: Misumi will be going first.

Misumi: We just have to stretch out our hands towards the ground, right? I'll give it a try~!

Here we go!

Tsumugi: Wow, amazing!

Muku: You're so flexible!

Kumon: So awesome! That's Sumi-san for you!

Yuki: I think we already have the winner here.

Kazunari: We've already gotten a winning candidate right from the start! Next up is Itarun!

Itaru: Going after Misumi is hella difficult…

Okay… one, two, three…

Ugh… I'm at my limit.

Yuki: ...Are you for real?

Itaru: Obviously… I'm being very serious here. Super duper serious…

Muku: Itaru-san, don't push yourself too hard…!

Tsumugi: I-Itaru-kun, it's okay. My result will probably be the same as you.

Tenma: Is that supposed to be an encouragement…?

Misumi: Next up is Muku. Good luck~!

Muku: Yes…! One, two, three!

Kazunari: Oooh! Muku is doing pretty good, I think!?

Yuki: Yep, you did well.

Tsumugi: Last one is Tenma-kun.

Tenma: Alright…

Ugh…

Kumon: Wow! You're so flexible, Tenma-san!

Kazunari: It's not as far as Sumi, but you're the most flexible one after him!

Tenma: Ugh… Just a lil bit more…

Muku: It's good enough!

Itaru: From my point of view, both of you are mollusks…

Tenma: Is that a compliment?

Kazunari: Now, let's move on to our second round! It's a split battle! Those who can spread their legs the widest will be declared the winner!

Yuki: Let's do another rock paper scissors to decide the order.

Kumon: Ugh~...!

I can't spread my legs more than this!!

Tenma: You're doing pretty good, though.

Misumi: You're so awesome, Kumon~!

Yuki: Well, your result isn't that bad.

Muku: Next up is Tsumugi-san.

Tsumugi: Okay. Got it.

Here we go… ouch ouch ouch ouch…

Kazunari: You're already at your limit, Tsumutsumu!?

Tsumugi: Yes…

Yuki: Can you even call this a split? You gave up too fast…

Itaru: He’s a total mood.

Misumi: Next one is Tenma!

Tenma: Okay.

...Ugh… I think this is my limit…

Kazunari: You think so? I feel like you still can spread your legs, though?

Misumi: You can, you can! Like this~.

Kazunari: And like this!

Tenma: Ouch ouch ouch! Don't grab me! Stop it!

Hisoka: …

Yuki: Ah.

Kazunari: Tenten's instructor is here! Heeey!

Hisoka: …? What are you doing?

Tsumugi: Flexibility battle.

Misumi: We want to find out who's the most flexible one among us~.

Kumon: Oh, yeah! Since you're here, Hisoka-san, I want you to try doing a split too!

Muku: Whoa, I wanna see that too.

Hisoka: ...Got it.

….Like this?

Tsumugi: Whoa…!

Kazunari: Dude, OMG!! You're more flexible than I thought!

Kumon: So cool!

Misumi: Hisoka is so amazing!

Muku: Yeah, I feel the same.

Yuki: How do you even spread your legs that wide, though?

Itaru: That’s definitely not a human body…

Hisoka: ? You think so?

Kazunari: But you're aiming to be like that, right, Tenten?

Tenten: No. While I do admit he's amazing, it’s not like I want to become that flexible...

[literaticat]

I have multiple offers. One newer agent's plans for revision and sub were close to what I've been thinking. So I thought we were the perfect match! But then I got an offer from my dream agent, who suggested a more intensive edit. Since this agent is very experienced and good at their job, even though they suggested changes I wouldn't have otherwise wanted, it seems like a smart move. Do you think the direction I take will make a big diffence in how well my MS does on sub?

I really feel uncomfortable giving you advice that is more than "theoretical" -- like this really HAS TO be entirely your call. I can give you thoughts about it - but I'm not a mindreader or a fortune-teller!

* Certainly, it is very likely that the changes you make WILL make a big difference in how well your ms does on sub. (Notice, though, that I said the experience with the two would likely be DIFFERENT. I didn't say that one would be BETTER or one would be WORSE.) -- I've seen plenty of newer agents do huge deals, and plenty of books that are worked on for months by their very skilled and amazing fancy-pants agents and don't end up selling at all. AND vice-versa. So... "newer" vs "experienced" or "some edits" vs "tons of edits" -- there's no blanket This is the Better Way here. It's kind of up for grabs - either avenue MIGHT be the right thing for this manuscript.

* What sticks out to me here is "they suggested changes I wouldn't have otherwise wanted" -- when you get editorial advice, obviously you have to listen with an open mind and heart. There may be things that make you stretch what you thought before, or see your ms in a different light, and you realize "oh, this advice is something I would have never thought about - but it resonates with me and I can see how it will certainly make the ms stronger." Is it like THAT? If so, yay! --- or is it like "Oh, this will make my ms into a different book, and I'm not really sure if I would like that book." -- if so, yikes! Basically - aside from the fact that it's more work - does that fancy agent's editorial advice make you feel FIRED UP and EXCITED, or sad and full of dread, or just nothing? If fired up and excited - that may be an answer for you. If not, well.

* Also - you should never feel that you HAVE to take certain editorial advice - after all, it's your book, at the end of the day. Did the agent make you feel as though repping / shopping the book was contingent on your making these dramatic changes to the book?

* I would strongly suggest, if you haven't already, that you ask those agents for names of some of their clients that you can reach out to and ask questions. This is normal - no agent should have a problem providing names.

IMPORTANT: It is always fine to ask the offering agent for names of clients who might be willing to talk. It's also fine, theoretically, to ask other clients of an agent that you know from socials or whatever (as long as you won't get offended if they decline or ignore you). But please, ONLY IF YOU HAVE AN OFFER.

Obviously, it is a different matter if you are friends with the author and they WANT to give you advice/testimonials/recommendations - that's great. But it would be pushy and entitled in the extreme to expect that you have a right to infringe on any of our client's time and good-will if you don't have an actual offer -- can you imagine if EVERY random querier approached our clients to pepper them with a hundred questions a day? What an absolute nightmare that would be. Our authors wouldn't have time to write books!

Ask those clients candid questions, and their responses might well shed more light on how the agent works. Obviously, they are probably likely to be fairly glowing (because an agent isn't going to recommend you talk to somebody who is a grump and hates them lol) -- but still. Are they communicative, have they been successful for them, what have the processes been like, etc. Might help!

[give-me-back-my-rhodey]

It was Wednesday before; Now it’s Wednesday again - AUgust Day 8

Joker Prompt: coffeeshop au

Title: It was Wednesday before, now it's Wednesday again Card Number: 016 Square Filled: "Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist" for Tony Stark Flash Bingo; I3: Time Loops for the Starkbucks Bingo Ship: Bucky/Tony, Steve/Nat Warnings: N/A Link: Read on AO3 Summary: Natasha and Tony have to figure out how to get out of a time loop

@tonystarkbingo

Prompted by @shrinkthisviolet  I hope it meets up to your expectations!

+++++++++++

Wednesday Special… Large coffee & a scone for $4. Natasha reads on the chalkboard behind the counter. Wednesday, July 18th. Natasha hates this day. All it is is bad memories and emotion. This was the day that Clint saved her by jumping in front of a bullet. The day that she quit her job with the CIA. The day that… she needs to focus on something else.

 “Large black mocha for Natasha!” The barista calls, and she walks up to the counter to get it. She thanks him. Spinning, she slams into a wall of muscle and spills her blazing hot coffee over said wall of muscle.

“Ow fuck! OW!” The man she runs into yells. “Shit. That’s hot!”

 “I am so, so sorry,” She says, grabbing some napkins from the counter and dabbing against his chest.

 The man takes the napkins from her and mutters. “You should really watch where you’re… go-inng.” His voice trails off as he looks at her. “I probably should have, too. Can I buy you a drink?”

 “Um, sure.” She follows him, surprised, as he takes her hand and leads her to a table. “I had a large black mocha.”

 He winks at her and walks back up to the cash register. He speaks a few moments with the barista, who nods. When he gets back to the table, he tells her. “They’ll bring it over, so you don’t spill it again.”

 “Haha very funny.” Natasha rolls her eyes. “I’m Natasha. I am sorry for spilling my hot coffee on you. Are you sure you don’t want me to run you to the ER?”

 “No thank you, I’m ok. My body can stand a little hot coffee.” The man smiles a blinding gigawatt smile. “I’m Steve.”

 “Natasha.”

 “Stark! You better have an explanation!” The guy two tables down from them shouts and rises from his chair. Steve turns a bright red.

 The barista quickly comes out from behind the counter, a drink in his hand. “Oh, Buckyboo, what seems to be the matter?”

 “This is not my fucking coffee. Who the hell drinks pumpkin spice mocha, especially in the middle of the summer?” His glare somehow grows darker as the barista approaches him. “Tony, I swear…”

 “Relax sweetcheeks. I accidentally gave you my drink. Here’s yours. Now sit with me while I’m on break.” Tony smiles sweetly, and the so-named “Buckyboo" grumbles as he sits down across from him.

 The other barista whistles. “What a way to flirt, dumbass!”

 “Don’t be jealous, Platypus! I love you, too!” Tony blows him a kiss. “Platonically,” he says as if explaining to the man across from him.

 Natasha is taken aback at the unprofessionalism of the baristas when she notices that Steve’s head has been in his hands since the whole exchange started. “I am so sorry. My friends are the worst. That’s Bucky, my best friend. He and Tony have this – I don’t even know what to call it -”

 “Great love of the ages" Tony butts in.

 “Anyways, Bucky is all tightly wound because he doesn’t know how to flirt.”

 “That’s for damn sure!” The other barista says, and Tony whines. “Rhodeyyyybeaaaar.”

 A police car wails past the shop, waking Natasha from her trance. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I have to go.” Natasha puts her hands up. This craziness is not her cup of tea.

 Steve puts a hand up but doesn’t touch her. “I’m sorry. Can we just start over? Hi, I’m Steve. I would say I’m sorry for getting in your way, but I think that fate brought us together.”

 Well, this guy is very cute. He seems nice. “I guess.”

 They sit and talk for a while until Natasha has to leave for work. The day goes by like normal, and she goes to bed. The next thing Natasha knows is she is standing at the counter at the coffeeshop, waiting for her coffee. Glancing up at the chalkboard, she reads: Wednesday Special… Large coffee & a scone for $4. Wait, yesterday was Wednesday…

 “Large black mocha for Natasha,” The barista calls, and she steps forward to claim her coffee. What the hell is going on here? Thanking Tony, she spins and slams into Steve, spilling her coffee on his shirt.

 “Ow, fuck. OW! Oh shit. That hurts!” Steve yells. Just like yesterday. Natasha looks around wildly.

 She grabs napkins and dabs his shirt. “I am so so sorry.”

 “Maybe you should just watch where you’re go…inng.” Steve once again trails off when he looks at her. “Actually, I probably should have, too. Can I buy you a drink?”

Natasha once again agrees, and Steve cracks a joke about her dropping another drink. Bucky angrily yells at Tony, who flirts shamelessly back. The cop car goes past. Steve convinces her to stay. She goes to work, gets home, goes to bed… and winds up back at the coffee shop!

 “What the hell?” She mutters under her breath as she sees the Wednesday specials sign again. I cannot be stuck on this date. I cannot! She thinks as her anxiety skyrockets. Tony the barista looks at her weirdly, then calls. “Large black mocha for Natasha.”

 She thanks him, spins and runs into Steve yet again.  Everything happens the same as it did the past two days. I’m stuck in a fucking time loop! She growls.

 As she heads to leave, Tony walks her to the door. “You’re stuck, too, right?” He asks.

 “Wait. You’ve been having the same day, too?” She stops. “How long?”

 Tony shoots her an exhausted glare. “Three fucking months. All the same, except that two days ago, you walk in. You’ve never been in here before. Why are you here?”

 “Three months? I can’t be stuck like this for three months.” Natasha shudders. “I will kill someone.”

 Tony’s eyes sparkle. “Oooh, maybe that will work. Want to try it?” He looks around the shop as if looking for the best candidate.

 “How are you still so happy?” Natasha groans.

 “I no longer care about this world. I can do literally anything, and it doesn’t matter. I’ve been trying to break this thing for three months. I’ve quit my job four times, I’ve cut my hand off on purpose, I’ve fucked Bucky on the counter – Steve was not happy but I was delirious, I’ve proposed to Rhodey like 6 billion times – he always says no and Bucky always crushes his portable cup, I’ve talked all day yike a five yeaw owld, and I’ve even come to work only in a loincloth. Nothing I do matters, and I have to not care, or I’ll go insane.” Tony grins manically. “Welcome to the madness.”

 “There has got to be a way to break this, but I don’t know how. I don’t watch a whole lot of movies. How do they solve them in like Groundhog Day?”

 “I don’t know. But in Naked, Marlon Wayans has to figure out who is trying to sabotage his wedding. In Palm Springs, they have to blow up the time loop thingy. I don’t know about any other time loop movies. Did someone curse us?”

 “I don’t know. Is there someone we both know who hates us? Do you remember pissing anybody off before you got caught?”

  Tony snorts. “I’m always pissing people off… it’s part of my brand. We just have to try new stuff, see if any of it works. Go to work and come back tomorrow. We’ll try new stuff. Next time don’t run into Steve. Let’s see if he notices you if not.”

 Natasha leaves, goes to work, goes to sleep, and then she’s back in the coffee shop. Tony gives her the coffee, and she takes a step back to narrowly avoid Steve. “Woah! Are you o.. kayy?” Steve again stumbles on his words. “Can, can I buy you a drink?”

 “I already have one, but I won’t say no to a conversation.” Natasha lifts up her cup. “Got a table?”

 As Natasha and Steve sit, Bucky jumps out of his seat. “STARK YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”

 Tony does a somersault over the counter, grabs Bucky’s coffee, and walks over to his table. “Hey sexy, take a seat. Here’s your coffeefee.” Tony pushes him down on the chair and straddles his lap. “Do you want to share it?” He takes a sip of the coffee and transfers it to Bucky’s mouth by shoving his tongue down Bucky’s throat. Bucky moans and reciprocates. Natasha watches in horror as Tony starts moving in Bucky’s lap, back and forth, up and down, until Steve screams “Enough!”

 Tony shoots Natasha a smirk and slides off of Bucky’s lap. “Sorry Steve, I just love Bucky so much. I can’t keep my hands off of him.”

 Steve shakes his head then turns to Natasha. “So, what do you do?”

 “I’m an interior decorator. I’m in between clients at the moment, so I’m just sorting paperwork. How about you?” She knows. He’s a personal trainer.

 Steve blushes a little. “Ah I’m a personal trainer. I know, it’s cheesy.”

 “It suits you.” She leans on her hands. “You look great.”

 She loves how easily Steve blushes. “Gee, well, thanks. You look good, too.” He scratches the back of his head.

 They settle into an easy conversation, talking about a book they both read. She gets ready to leave to go into the office, and Steve asks, “Hey I know this is soon, but would you like to go out for dinner with me?”

 She smiles and presses a kiss on his lips. “Sure. Let me give you my number. Want to meet tonight?” Tony gives her a thumbs up behind Steve’s back.

 Natasha hopes that something different will stop her loop. Steve takes her out to dinner, but when she falls asleep that night, she ends up back in the coffeeshop. Tony gives her a pout when she returns. “Well, that didn’t work.”

 “No, it didn’t.” Tony grumbles. “Now we have to think of other things.”

 “What if we both reject Steve and Bucky?” Natasha wonders.

 He shakes his head. “I thought about that. But I don’t want to do it. I’m afraid that if I do, it will be the time it sticks, and I can’t lose Bucky. He means so much to me.”

 “Come on. Just try it. You can blame it on your meds or something. Everyone knows you’re in love with him.”

 “Fine.” Natasha throws her cooled-down coffee in Steve’s face, and Tony pointedly ignores Bucky. Natasha goes to sleep, and once more is in the coffee house.

 “See? Bucky doesn’t even know.”

 He shoots her a glare. “You better be happy he doesn’t. I would kill you.”

 A month goes by, and they are still stuck on the damn Wednesday. Natasha falls more and more in love with Steve. She knows he won’t remember her as much, and it hurts her. One day, Tony claps her on the shoulder. “Last ditch effort. You have to sleep with Steve.”

 She spits out her coffee. “No, I’m not going to do that. He doesn’t even really know me, and I know too much about him. It’s not right.”

 “Fine. But we’re never getting out of here.” Tony groans. Natasha can’t help but agree.

 Natasha tries to think of any reason why she would be cursed to live the rest of eternity on this day. The worst date of the year. She hates July 18th with a passion. Tony sits across from her. “So, I had a thought.” He begins. “What if the time loop is trying to tell us something?”

 “Did something traumatic happen to you on this date?” Natasha interrupts.

 Tony nods. “This was the day my butler died. And then, a few years ago, my uncle tried to kill me. Not a great day for me at all.”

 “What if we have to let go? My partner was killed on this day. He took a bullet for me. I have not wanted to face this day ever since.”

 “Seems like we’ve got some spiritualizing to do.” Tony comments. “I will see you tomorrow, Ms. Romanov.”

 “How do you…”

 “Know your name? I’m a tech genius who runs a multi-billion-dollar tech company. And you want to know how I know your last name.” Tony crosses his arms. “Honestly though, your last name is on your credit card.”

 “If you’re a tech genius, why are you a barista?” Natasha is confused. She’s usually good at reading people, but Tony was closed off.

 He grins. “Community service. I beat up a guy at a bar for hitting on a girl who didn’t want him. I work every Wednesday for about a year. Except that now, every frickin day is Wednesday.” Tony tilts his head and looks at her. “You don’t know who I am, do you. Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, at your service. Well I was a playboy until I met Bucky. He came in every day, and we flirted. I asked him on a date, and it went well, but after that, he seemed to shut me out. Steve told me that Bucky is very… maybe insecure is the word? He gets very nervous when he likes someone, and he clams up. So, I’ve been flirting with him. I love Bucky, Nat. I hope he feels the same when we get out of this.”

 “Same with Steve. How fucked up is that – I am desperately in love with a man who won’t even know me?”

 Bucky and Steve come in for their evening coffee. Tony latches onto Bucky immediately, leaving Natasha to talk with Steve. She has her normal evening conversation with him, when she hears Tony say to Bucky, “You probably will think I’m fucking crazy, but I’m not. You are because I’m crazy, and you’ve fucked me plenty of times. That’s beside the point. Listen Bucky, I love you. I love you so much, and I would gladly spend the rest of my days living in this hellish day if it means I can spend it with you.”

 Steve looks over at them weirdly. “What’s going on with him?”

 “He’s right. And I should say it, too. I love you with all my heart. I know you’ve only “just met me” but I have known you for like two months now. I love you, and if I have to “meet” you again every day, I will do so.”

 “Okayyyy?” Steve looks at her like she has grown two heads. “I think I’d like to get to know you more before I just declare love to you, if that’s ok.”

 “That’s more than fine.” Natasha smiles wetly. She kisses him goodnight and goes home.

 The next morning, she wakes up… in her own bed. Pulling out her phone, she looks at the date. July 19th. Hallelujah. All it took was being emotionally vulnerable? She should have done that months ago. Quickly getting dressed and ready for her day, she runs out the door to the coffee shop. Tony is sitting at Bucky’s table, wearing a suit, not a barista uniform. “July 19th?” He asks. “July 19th.” She confirms. A voice behind her clears its throat. She stiffens because she knows that distinct sound. Steve. Turning, she plasters on a smile. “Hello.”

 “Would you believe me if I told you I remember the past three months? It’s kind of confusing because it feels like it’s been three months, but it’s still July.”

 “Time loops do that to you.” Tony grins.

 Bucky takes his hand. “Did we actually fuck on the counter?”

 “Multiple times.” Tony tells him. Bucky nods with an approving smirk on his face. “Awesome.”

 Steve shudders. “I’m glad I don’t have that memory. Oh, and Natasha? I love you.”

[mx-sfthrs]

"we can't keep doing this"

"we're not just friends and you fucking know it"

a/n: i got the starter sentences from this post if u wanna use some !! no one asked for this i just felt like writing because i love me a good friends to lovers troupe and yall already heard me rant abt it but lowkey prob i love w my own best friend so yikes anyways there’s no other warnings besides it getting kind of suggestive but nothing explicitly sexual happens it’s just super hinted at lol also there’s no time on purpose bc this all happens over a span of two weeks so it felt weird to add a time

word count: 1.4k

[__:__] you've had feelings for your best friend changkyun for quite some time, but once you realized it you almost immediately pushed them down. he had never given you any indication that he had feelings for you, and your friendship meant too much to you to screw up with what you thought was some dumb crush.

you'd gotten pretty good at ignoring your feelings, enduring a couple of girlfriends on his end and even dating some other boys yourself.

right now though, both of you guys were single and changkyun had been especially clingy lately, making it your ‘dumb crush’ increasingly more difficult to control.

earlier this week he had asked if you were free on friday night

"yeah, why?"

"i don't know, i was thinking about it and we haven't had a sleepover in a while and... well, i guess i miss it - uh miss you... my place at 7?"

you agreed since you already said you were free, but you knew that the whole thing would make you uncomfortable. you’d probably end up hyper fixating on whatever movie or video game you guys were playing to avoid letting your mind wonder too much.

-

that friday night, you guys were halfway through some old comedy movie when changkyun slid next to you and pulled you into him

"hey" he put his arm around your shoulder "you good?"

you looked up at him and he just looked so... soft? sweet?

"huh?” your heart felt like it was on fire from beating so quickly “y-yeah. i’m fine, just tired”

you guys have snuggled before, that wasn't what was making you nervous. the genuinely sweet and concerned look on his face was what was making your heart flutter

"okay" smiled a sweet, closed mouth smile that you've never seen before "you just seem kind of off"

he took the string of your hoodie into the hand that was around your shoulder and started to twirl it around his fingers while he went back to focusing on the movie

the movie finished and he leaned forward to grab the remote and click to another movie while you checked your phone. when he leaned back he kissed your cheek, grabbing your attention before pulling you back into him

you looked up at him, desperately hoping your ears weren't too noticeably red, just to see him looking at the screen with a smirk on his face. you had no idea what game he was playing but at this point you thought it would be harmless to play along

so, you leaned over and kissed his jaw before leaning back down onto his chest

-

nights like these started to become a lot more frequent, and a lot more intimate. it was actually really nice to receive this kind of attention from changkyun, but you still had some uneasy feelings. both of you had yet to talk about any kind of feelings towards each other, and while you two had been showing a sickening amount of physical affection for two people who were just “best friends”, it seemed that it wasn’t enough for either of you to be completely candid about wanting to be more than friends

almost every night for the next two weeks, one of you spent the night at the other’s house, no matter what you guys had to do in the morning. you were almost always in each others arms, complimenting each other more, and giving soft, chaste kisses everywhere but the lips. during sleepovers you two would usually sleep in the same bed but now you would fall asleep holding hands or cuddled up together under the covers.

-

one night, changkyun had you and some friends over for a small party. he didn’t pay much attention to you and at first it didn’t bug you, until you over heard him talking to one of his friends

“...you’re crazy, dude” changkyun nonchalantly sipped his beer “we’re just friends”

“whatever you say man...” his friend teased

as soon as you heard him say that you avoided him for the rest of the night. you felt like you had been taken advantage of

after everyone had left, you stayed back like you’d promised him before the party. you were cleaning up in the kitchen when you heard him say his last goodbyes and close the door

he came up to you from behind and wrapped his arms around your waist. with his chest flush against your back and his chin on your shoulder, he started to kiss your neck

“hey, thanks for stay - “

you tried to wiggle out of his grip, unamused and not in the mood to receive any kind of affection from him

“woah... you okay?”

“we can’t keep doing this, changkyun” you turned around and tried not to get more upset than you already were “i can’t keep doing this”

he looked confused so you kept going

“listen, you’re my best friend and if it’s not obvious by now, i’m kind of maybe sort of a little bit in love with you and have been for quite some time now...” you looked down trying to blink back tears

“...and i guess i misread the situation or something, i don’t know but all of this - whatever this is - i don’t want it anymore. it’s too much. and maybe you’re fine with all of this while still being friends but it’s really messing me up so can we please just go back to how things were two weeks ago, before that night? before all of the snuggling and kisses and hand holding and whatever, just...please?” 

changkyun took both of your hands in his

“y/n?” he tried bending down to look at your eyes

your voice was barely audible “please don’t...”

“why? why do you think we’re just friends?”

your head snapped up at him “are you serious? don’t pretend like you don’t know what i’m talking about. i heard what you said tonight. i heard you say that we were just friends”

“wait, just - “

“no! do you have any idea how used that made me feel?? for two weeks now all of the feelings i’ve had for you actually made me happy and excited instead of scared and ashamed and i guess i should’ve been more upfront with what i wanted because - mmph”

he kissed you. 

he’d kissed you before but never on the lips and never like this. it was sudden, but deep and soft and full of well, feelings. the same feelings you had for him.

when you were starting to get dizzy you pulled away

“what the - “

“we’re more than just friends and you fucking know it”

now you were the one who was confused, so he continued to explain

“my friend was making some dumb joke about that video of me kissing jooheon on the cheek, y/n. do you really think i’d just play with you like that? that i’d use you? listen, i know that i’ve done some dumb things before, but i knew exactly what i was doing this time, and exactly who i was doing it to. it was never my intention to...”

he stepped closer to you as you lowered your head, inwardly scolding yourself for being scared away at the smallest sign of trouble

“...hey” he gently lifted your chin to get you to look at him

“i’m sorr - “

“no, y/n, i’m sorry. you’re right, i should’ve been more upfront” he tucked some of your hair behind your ears “i should’ve just told you that i was in love with you instead of just showing you”

he stepped closer and guided your hands around his waist

“but i promise” he kissed your forehead, “that i” your left temple “want” your right temple “to be” your nose “so much more” your left cheekbone “than just” your right cheekbone “your friend” your lips

“oh yeah?” you giggled against his mouth

“yeah” he said as he smiled and kissed you again

and this kiss seemed to be making up for lost time and hurt feelings because when it was over, thirty minutes had passed, you were on the counter, and both of your hair was an absolute mess

“so” you sighed “what do we do now?”

“well...” he took a step back a looked around the messy kitchen “we could clean all of this up, or ...”

“or...”

“or... i have about twelve other things in mind that are way more fun and involve far less clothes”

he looked at you with his hand stretched out with expecting eyes, waiting for an answer

“i think i like option two” you giggled as you let him pull you into his bedroom, and with that the mess in the kitchen was long forgotten

[novarasalas]

Second Look Review: The Grudge

Sigh.

Work sucks. I’m not even checking how long it’s been since I started writing this. So..let’s get to it.

-

Candid Camera

I 100% love this opening conversation. It’s a weakness of mine in shows and movies: the candid conversation. Just seeing characters interacting with each other, not saying or doing anything to drive the plot forward...it’s great. I wish more media would write things like this. This way, we get a glimpse of the character’s personalities, in both the things they say and how they interact with one another.

Speaking of…

- -

A Bit Awkward

Acxa: I never has a creature companion, but one of my partners, Narti, was bonded to an immortal can't named Kova. That cat gave her the ability to experience the world. 

So far so good...

Acxa: Until Lotor killed Narti and we had to abandon the animal on our destroyed ship so we could escape without being tracked.

Oh...ok. Yikes, lol?

To be honest...I wasn’t expecting her to be quite so awkward. But then I remember that we haven’t seen much of her when she wasn’t antagonizing the team.

And thus I reiterate: I love candid conversations like this.

Later, we get an awkward reprisal.

Leifsdottir: It would appear the mood at this table has become rather awkward. Most likely due to your Galra lineage.

Oh look...there’s two of them.

Tag yourself! I’m James.

Do scenes like this get to anyone else? It’s like seeing two aspects of my social awkwardness given form. 

- - -

Let Me Love You

I love watching friendships happen. 

Acxa: I know you have little trust for me, but your constant presence is tiresome.

How cute…

I meant it when I said watching her was like seeing my own brand of awkward. I don’t know how many potential friends I’ve scared off by being like this. The only friends I have now are the ones that have the patience of saints. 

I’m grateful to them. 

As I’m sure Acxa is to Veronica, even if we never really see it.

Also, this right here?

Veronica: Honestly, I just wanted to get to know you.

Acxa: By sneaking up on me at a firing range?

Veronica: I didn’t sneak up on you.

Acxa: Only because I’m always aware of my surroundings.

Really now?

*Marcia Brady voice* Sure, Acxa.

- - - -

Sword Play

I’ve been thinking about this one for a bit.

It starts with Keith pulling his signature move

After, Lance says this:

Lance: Huh, good job, Keith. I mean, I was just about to do that, too, but that’s cool.

What was he about to do?

The cool “throw your sword, totally disarming yourself” move, of course!

Keith is annoyed, not confused. This means that he knows that Lance has a sword. We never get to see that moment in the show...which is why I had to write it myself. Check my “voltron fanfic” tag, “fic: study it out” tag,  or the first comment on this post for the fic link.

I’m also on AO3 with the same user name.

..yeah, that’s a self plug. I’m not ashamed.

- - - - - 

The Bad and The Ugly

This is probably what’s really kept me dragging my feet on this for so long. 

So, the real story of this episode is that Ezor has left Zethrid cause she’s a total rage-filled maniac, and she wants nothing to do with that life anymore.

Zethrid, being a total rage-filled maniac, fails to engage in introspection, and blames Keith for this. For some reason.

She tries to kill Keith while Acxa tries to talk her down. End the end, she’s only stopped when Veronica, Acxa’s new best friend, shoots her.

It’s fine, though. Ezor comes back to her, willing to forgive her for...things.

Roll credits.

…..does that seem right? It certainly didn’t to a lot of people.

Me included.

The idea is that Ezor was, narratively, dead. The idea continues that the backlash from having

1. Some of the gay rep being a villain pair, and 

2. One in that pair being killed off, 

scared them into retconning Ezor’s death, hastilty re-recording lines and adding shoddy animation to “fix” it. 

I’m not at this point here to point fingers and blame persons for this supposed change. I just want to talk about why I think that it was changed.

It’s mostly because of this, at first:

Zethrid: Now you will feel what I felt.

Some argued that she was saying this to Shiro, who was, ya know...there. But she’s saying it to Acxa. 

Here:

Ezor: She’s always been sweet on that one with the flippity hair.

You just know they’ve teased Acxa about this before. And that’s the thing.

Zethrid believes that Acxa is in love with Keith, and that’s why she’s going to kill him, so that she feels the same grief that she feels. 

Ya know..cause she loved Ezor, and Ezor’s dead now.

I can’t pinpoint what all has been changed, when it was changed, or how. 

But am I supposed to believe that Zethrid would take a break up this badly? Am I supposed to believe that Ezor, having left Zethrid because of her rage and anger, would watch her try to kill someone over said break up...and then take her back?

Nah. I don’t.

And it’s not that I want Ezor to be dead. I want the story to make sense.

There’s other evidence, visually.

Ezor here is unfinished. The lines are uneven and the shadows on her are almost non existent. Maybe it wouldn’t have looked so bad had she not been placed next to Acxa, who was always in this scene. But as it is, she’s very flat. 

This continues into the next episode.

Veronica: Zethrid and the Olkari have escaped their cells.

Only two indicators are shown. An argument could be made that they didn’t consider Ezor a threat.

But add to all this the fact that Ezor’s one spoken line ended up being a pitched up clip of Allura saying “no”, while Zethrid’s response of “trust me” was taken from S7...it’s all too much.

However, at the same time, I don’t want to dwell on this. It’s conspiracy and conjecture at this point. We’ll never know what really happened. There will never be a director's cut. They’ll never release extra footage. This is what we got.

In any case, the fact remains that the whole thing was jarring and seemed very out of place. The writing and story hasn't been the greatest to this point, but this marked the episode where the plot began to lose me. From this point on, I spend an inordinate amount of time watching and thinking “...um??”

It’s a bad feeling.

Also, Shiro? Baby?

Any thoughts?

...fair enough.

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

In Summary:

This episode started out wonderfully before it crashed and burned. The opening character interactions gave way to questionable character motivations.

If, as suspected, this plot point was changed because of outside pressure...well…

It’s an odd thing for it to happen during production like this. In my years, I’ve never really seen it happen like this before. There’s no way to fix something like this without the end result looking sloppy.

Also, as someone that creates stories, I don’t have a great feeling about this. There’s this idea now that if something isn’t perfect, you must shout it down until someone changes it, or make the thing go away completely. 

I personally would have felt better if they’d stood by the story they’d created. After the fact, we can talk about things gone wrong, the mistakes that were made, and how the story might’ve been made better, all in retrospect.

To do anything else, in my opinion, shows a lack of integrity.*

*but what is integrity when there’s corporations and money involved, really?

Next up: 

Yeah...so….this is where we’re going with this?

[i-write-shakespeare-not-disney]

Side Effects pt.170

Nyma smirked and tilted the phone towards him. It was a picture of Keith laying down in Lance's bed, scrolling through his phone, wearing one of Lance's sweaters. “And since when does he stay at your place?”

“Um. This week. He stayed over most of it.”

Nyma laughed and shook her head. “But still not ready for a relationship.” Lance rolled his eyes. “No but seriously, the amount of candids here is getting concerning, you're like borderline stalker-”

“Oh shut up,” he said, snatching his phone back, and she laughed loudly at his expense.

Nyma leaned back on her hands against the concrete bench and smiled widely at him. She rubbed her thumb against his cheek, wiping away the lipstick mark. “Sorry about… you know being all over you before. You're a pretty great guy, Lancey.”

“It’s okay. And thank you. Let's hope Keith's brother thinks so,” he mumbled. “I'm meeting him officially today and I've been trying not to panic about it.”

Nyma winced. “Yikes. Meeting siblings is hard. I met one of my old boyfriends’ sister, and she hated my guts.” Lance paled and put his face in his hands. “No, hey, I'm sure you'll be fine! It's different with girls, Lancey, don't freak out.”

He just groaned into his hands and slumped. Then his phone went off with an alarm, making him jump slightly. “Shit. I gotta get to class. I'll see you around, okay, Ny?”

“Yeah, okay,” she answered. “I wanna meet this guy in person. Good luck today!” She waved as Lance grabbed his things and started walking toward his next class.

[artyblogs]

Across the Frozen Sea ch5

Star Wars the Clone Wars, Ahsoka/Barriss/Riyo

Across the Frozen Sea summary: Ahsoka, Barriss, and Riyo find themselves stranded in the Pantoran Taiga. They must get back to civilization, but the wilds are more dangerous than they realize. If the cold doesn’t get them, the locals will.

First Chapter : Previous Chapter : Next Chapter : Last Chapter

Chapter 5: Mafoo Manor

Mafoo Manor is built out of dark hardwoods, and is bedecked in sigil tapestries woven with yellow and purple threads. The stone fireplace is tall enough for Riyo to stand in without slouching, and over the mantle are displayed a few elk carvings placed around a painting of Count Mafoo. Sheer, red fabric has been draped over the painting, somewhat obscuring it.

The dining table is draped in exquisite cloth, and features a magnificent spread of cooked fish, roasted meat, and other Pantoran dishes. Barriss eats a reindeer soup out of a finely-made bowl and hopes that she isn’t committing some social faux-pas. If she was asked if her table manners were impeccable yesterday, she would have answered ‘yes,’ but she’s no longer sure of anything after the raw seal debacle that they ate with their hands. At least the food is cooked now. She didn’t have the appetite to eat much of her share of the seal after she watched Ahsoka tear into the literal heart.

Next to her, Ahsoka eats in silence, content to leave the talking to Riyo. Riyo is all practiced grace and poise, emanating an air of power and confidence despite her wrinkled and blood-stained suit. Thankfully, she attracts most of their hosts’ attention, and most of the conversation is held in Galactic Basic.

What’s left of the Mafoo family sits with them at the dining table. Dowager Countess Xola’s gray hair has been twisted back into a bun, and her sad gaze has been steadily trained on Riyo for most of the meal.

Her second son, Count Mfuneko, sits at the head of the table, and he asks Riyo all sorts of questions about Coruscant and her life as a galactic Senator. He can’t be more than a couple years older than Barriss and Riyo, if he’s older at all. On the other hand, her daughter Thandi stares determinedly at her plate.

“My condolences on your loss, Count, Dowager,” Riyo says. “When is the drowning ceremony?”

“It hasn’t been scheduled,” Xola says. “Mfuneko is arranging everything, but he hasn’t decided on a date.”

“I entrust most of the arrangements to Paki.” Mfuneko gestures to a young man standing at attention in the corner of the room. His dark blue hair is short and spiked, and his yellow tattoos streak down over his jaw like a beard.

“You must remember Paki, don’t you, Senator? One of my father’s last acts was to promote him to the head of the guard.”

“I remember. The both of you are close friends,” Riyo says.

“We go back to the same wet-nurse. At any rate, my father’s drowning won’t be done until my brother Dumi comes home. He’s gone and fled in his grief and we can’t find him. Until he returns, it falls to me to act as Count in his stead,” Mfuneko says. He shrugs and slouches in his chair. “It wouldn’t be right to hold such an important ceremony without him, would it? It’s what my father would have wanted.”

As this, Thandi grips her fork so hard her fingers turn white, but no one else seems to notice.

Mfuneko continues. “He went so quickly; none of us expected it. I wasn’t even raised to inherit the title; that was Dumi’s burden to bear, but it can’t be helped. I must continue in their place.”

“Yes, you are the Count. I’m used to talking business during meals, but we could adjourn to the study if that’s preferred,” Riyo says. Mfuneko’s eyebrows go up.

“Of course, Senator. In due time. I’ll admit I have a favor to ask of you as well.”

“Oh?”

“I find myself tasked with finding Thandi a suitable match. No doubt you are well-connected. Perhaps you could recommend a few candidates for me to pursue on her behalf.”

Thandi lowers her fork and knife. Riyo’s eyes flicker.

“My Lord, your sister is only fourteen years old.”

“All the better to be interested in her future. I am determined that she be well taken care of.” Mfuneko’s voice becomes hard and cold. Ahsoka perks up at the change in tone, and Barriss is tempted to Mind Read him through the Force.

Xola sighs and busies herself with her napkin. “I’m curious about your friends, Senator. We hear of the Jedi, but we don’t truly know of them.”

The tension breaks as Riyo turns to Xola. “They’re humble creatures, my lady. The closest equivalent I can draw are the Mother Moon Priestesses.”

After lunch, Mfuneko, Paki, and Riyo shut themselves in the study, leaving Barriss and Ahsoka to Xola and Thandi. The four of them take a tour of the manor.

Mafoo Manor is located in the outskirts of Bravado, on top of tall sea cliffs. It used to be a castle until most of it burned down in a horrible fire almost fifty years ago, and the lavish manor was built atop the remaining ruins. Xola shows them the stables where they keep their prized elk, the conservatory, the ballroom, the music room, two different parlors, and the library. More tapestries and wood carvings are hung on the walls alongside traditional weapons made from whale bone and shark teeth.

In the entrance foyer hangs a three meter-tall calligraphy painting on canvas. It resembles the sigils that they’ve seen everywhere on Pantora, except this one is painted in a deep purple.

“You must have seen this when you arrived, Master Jedi. Chairman Cho started this trend when he had a similar one done for his palace, only his was six meters tall,” Xola says. She frowns up at the canvas.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but this is blood, isn’t it?” Ahsoka asks. Xola nods.

“Elk blood. I believe the artist mixed the medium with a stabilizing agent, then varnished the entire canvas to keep it from decaying. It’s terribly expensive to do. I must confess that this is the end of the tour, Master Jedi.”

“Of course, Lady Mafoo. You must be busy,” Barriss says.

“If you need anything, feel free to ask one of the staff.” Xola turns and disappears into the house.

Ahsoka looks back up at the painting. “We’re being followed,” she whispers. Barriss looks around, but sees no one else but Thandi, who’s busy looking at a intricate tapestry on the other side of the foyer.

“I saw three guards during our tour, which means that there must be at least nine in total around here,” Ahsoka continues.

“Do you think we’re in danger?” Barriss asks.

Ahsoka shrugs. “I’ve decided that it’s easier to just assume we’re in constant danger until we get back to Defiance, but I’m open to being proven wrong.”

“These guards are very good at hiding themselves,” Barriss mutters.

“Yeah, but I can still hear them moving and I can smell them too. One of them uses too much cologne.” Ahsoka wrinkles her nose.

Barriss lowers her voice even more. “Have you noticed that a lot of these things are new?”

“How can I not? It’s all Xola has been saying. ‘Mfuneko commissioned this, Mfuneko commissioned that.’ This painting alone must cost a fortune,” Ahsoka whispers back.

“It does. My brother’s going to run us into the poorhouse,” Thandi says. She’s standing right behind them.

“My apologies,” Barriss says, but Thandi shakes her head.

“It’s all right. He started burning through our credits as soon as he became Count. My mother tells him not to spend so much, but he doesn’t listen. He wants to marry me off because he wants my dowry.”

Barriss regards the skinny teenager before her. She’s small for her age, with thin shoulders and deep black hair that cascades down her back. Her skin is also a dark blue, making her yellow eyes pop.

“Do you want to get married?” Barriss gently asks.

“No way! I’m training to be a uhadi musician and I want to tour the moon someday. But I don’t have any choice, like Dumi didn’t have a choice when Mfuneko chased him away,” Thandi says.

Ahsoka waves her hands to stop her. “Wait, wait, wait. Dumi, the brother you guys were talking about earlier? That Dumi? He didn’t ‘flee from grief?’”

“No, he wanted to stay, but Mfuneko and Paki threatened him, so he ran away instead.”

“If I may ask, Thandi, how did your father die?” Barriss asks.

Sadness flickers across Thandi’s face. “I don’t know.”

“Where is he interred?”

Thandi shrugs and looks away, blinking furiously. Barriss and Ahsoka share a look. ‘Yikes,’ Ahsoka mouths.

“Does Senator Chuchi know nice people at least? If I must be married, then…maybe it won’t be so bad,” Thandi says.

“Let’s go talk to her now. Can you show us to the study?” Barriss takes Thandi’s arm in hers and lets her lead them through the mansion.

In contrast to the rest of the mansion, the study is paneled from top to bottom in dark wood. Pantoran constellations are carved into the ceiling, and the bit of walls that aren’t covered in shelves feature landscapes. There are two windows on either side of the desk, but despite the copious amount of light they let in, Mfuneko switches on the lamps and places another log in the fireplace. All of the chairs have fur pelts draped over them, and over the floor is a plush rug.

Mfuneko invites Riyo to sit, and she makes herself comfortable in the guest armchair. Paki softly closes the door behind himself and goes to stand in the corner.

“Please excuse the mess, Senator. I must rebuild my father’s network.” Mfuneko gestures to the stacks of flimsi and data cards scattered over the top of the desk. “Your arrival is a blessing; I understand that you were one of my father’s business contacts.”

“I was. He was one of the first to donate to my initial campaign. He was a good man. A generous man.” Riyo pauses. “I would like very much to pay my respects. Where is the body kept?”

Mfuneko looks to Paki, who smirks.

“Alas, he’s still at the embalmers,” Paki says.

“There, see? Never fear, Senator. You’ll receive an invitation to the drowning,” Mfuneko says.

There’s a sinking feeling in Riyo’s gut, but she presses on. “To business then. I’ll admit that my visit is motivated by my recent visit to Bravado proper.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I was astounded to learn that the public waterfront was closed, and that the only hunters allowed were those directly in your employment.”

“You wish to hear an explanation. I’m sorry to confess that the waterfront has been poisoned. My men have secured the piers for the safety of the people while my hunters investigate the cause.”

“And this investigation requires a sample size of a hundred seal? That sounds excessive, your grace,” Riyo says.

“It is unavoidable. I find it best to leave these things to the experts of course.” Mfuneko says.

“Of course. I only ask out of concern.”

There is a long moment in which nothing is said. There is only the crackling of the fire. Mfuneko and Riyo stare at each other from across the desk.

“My sister requires a husband,” Mfuneko says. “I’ve only just announced it yesterday, and already I have five offers for her hand. But surely you must know at least one young man you might be happy to recommend. In this house, your word as a trusted associate is held in such high esteem.”

Oh, how crafty. Riyo leans back in her seat and considers her answer. The late Count Anathi was a good leader for his people, but he wasn’t quite the political animal. It doesn’t matter who Riyo recommends, what matters is that she recommended them, thereby implicitly giving her blessing to the match. If Mfuneko followed through with her recommendation, which he will, then it would become known that he was in good standing with the Pantoran Senator of the Galactic Republic, thereby boosting his reputation and opening new venues for networking previously closed to him.

All he would have to do is use his fourteen year-old sister to get there.

“I know many suitable people, your grace. I could offer a match for you too, if you wish.”

Mfuneko’s eyes grow hungry and he leans forward in interest. “Would you? That’s very kind, Senator.”

“Matchmaking is such a delicate art, you understand. I cannot just drop their names here and be on my way; I’d be betraying their confidence. I must send them flimsies first.”

“Of course! But what can you tell me now, Senator?”

“I can tell you to expect my message in two week’s time,” Riyo says. Mfuneko cracks a smile.

There’s a knock at the door.

“It seems that’s all we have time for. Enter!” Mfuneko says the last bit in Basic.

The door opens, and Ahsoka pokes her head into the room. Barriss and Thandi are with her, the both of them glancing curiously around the study.

“Hi. Riyo, can we talk?” Ahsoka asks.

Riyo nods and rises from her chair. “Of course. Please excuse us, Count.”

Mfuneko waves it away. “Enjoy the grounds, Senator.”

The four of them leave the study and follow Ahsoka to the conservatory. It’s an odd choice until Riyo notices the dark shapes of guards beyond the glass. The guards can observe them in here, looking as if they are gawking at the exotic plants, and so won’t feel the need to follow them in, but they also cannot hear what they are saying if they keep their voices low enough, nor can they read their lips through the foggy glass.

Impressive.

Barriss and Thandi sit on a wicker sofa and tell Riyo all that they’ve learned. Ahsoka walks the small path around the conservatory as if she’s a casual observer, but Riyo opts to stand behind the last chair and crosses her arms over her chest, listening.

“Has your brother made any trips to the drowning shipwright?” Riyo asks. Thandi shakes her head.

“He only goes out to drink and to hunt, and that’s if he isn’t having a party in the music room. I don’t think he’s ever talked to a shipwright.”

“I see. Perhaps there isn’t any shipwright because one isn’t needed. Ahsoka, do you remember when we went to the Trade Federation ship?” Riyo asks.

Ahsoka grins. “I sure do. Do you want me and Barriss to look around?”

“Yes. Thandi, you and I will distract your brother and give the Jedi time to investigate.”

“How?”

“Why, by playing music. Barriss said you were practicing, yes?”

Thandi smiles and her eyes light up.

Riyo and Thandi leave for the study, and one of the guards follows them. There’s a painful tug on Ahsoka’s heart as the door shuts behind them, and she resists the urge to go after them. Beside her, Barriss also watches them go with a thinly-veiled glare.

“Perhaps this is a bad idea. We’re supposed to be with her,” Barriss says

“Mission parameters change all the time. Riyo will be fine. We won’t be apart for long,” Ahsoka says, even though she still watches the place where she last saw Riyo. Barriss sighs, but doesn’t disagree.

After a couple minutes, Riyo, Thandi, Mfuneko, and the guard pass by again on their way to the music room.

“How are we going to conduct a search while we’re being shadowed?” Barriss asks. “And don’t suggest knocking them out.”

“Okay, but that’s the easiest thing to do,” Ahsoka whispers.

“It’s too messy, the rest of the squad would throw us out.”

“Not if we do it quietly.”

“Quietly?”

Ahsoka strides to the door and yanks it open. She gestures to the guard. “Hey. Come here.”

The guard starts, then points at himself. He’s dressed in dark clothes, and has a sword hanging from his belt.

“Yeah, you. Do you speak Basic?” Ahsoka asks.

“Yes. Little,” the guard says. He turns to face her, wary.

“Where’s the kitchen? Can you tell me where the kitchen is?”

“Yes. It’s there.” The guard points down the hallway, and Ashoka looks, but she turns to him again, confused.

“I’m sorry, where?”

“There, there! Down, then you turn.” The guard comes closer and continues to point.

“Uh huh. Interesting. Thank you.” Ahsoka reaches out and wraps her arms around the guard’s neck in a headlock, then pulls him back into the conservatory. She’s almost half a head taller than he is, so it’s really easy to do. The guard gurgles and scratches at her, but Ahsoka tightens her grip and keeps moving backwards through the conservatory until he goes limp in her arms. She puts him on the couch and makes it look as if he’s taking a nap, then looks at Barriss, who gapes at her.

“Quietly. Although I expected more of a fight, so maybe he wasn’t formally trained,” Ahsoka says.

“You just snatched that man off his feet,” Barriss says in astonishment.

Ahsoka laughs. “I guess I did. Come on, let’s go.”

They sneak through the house, looking around corners to make sure they’re alone before moving forward. When they do see guards, they duck out of sight and Ahsoka uses the Force to knock over something in a different part of the house. When the guard goes to investigate the noise, they sneak past.

At the study, Ahsoka tries the door handle only to find it locked.

“Should I unlock it?”

“No doubt there could be valuable information in there, but I can’t read Pantoran. I felt so useless when I tried to help Riyo with the Kortzeer flimsies,” Barriss says. “Can you read Pantoran?”

Ahsoka’s lek stripes burn. “Uh…no. I didn’t think of that.”

The corners of Barriss’ mouth twitch. “Perhaps we should take Xola’s suggestion and ask the staff what happened.”

The kitchen is tucked away in a different part of the house, only accessible through a nondescript door. Unlike the rest of the house, the cabinets and the counters are done in light-colored woods and stone. Plain tiles cover the walls. In the middle of the stone kitchen floor, atop a tarp, is a half-butchered seal that’s much larger than the one Ahsoka caught the night before. A large, well-muscled man wearing an apron kneels next to it, but he pauses his work to look up at Ahsoka and Barriss when they push through the nondescript kitchen door. A woman in an apron is lining up empty glass jars on the counter, and she looks up too.

“Uh, hi.” Ahsoka waves. “Thanks for the meal. It was delicious.”

The man turns to the woman and speaks in Pantoran. She says something back, and the man turns to them.

“She says ‘you’re welcome.’ My name is Alack, she is Ila. Are you still hungry? Do you want more food?” The man asks in a heavy accent. His voice reverberates in his deep chest.

“We were actually wondering if there was anything odd happening in this mansion as of late,” Barriss asks. “Have you noticed anything strange?”

Alack translates between them. “She says that this entire week, Paki orders her to cook an extra portion of food every meal. He comes to pick it up, but he doesn’t eat. He takes it and goes.”

Ila says something else and Alack grunts in agreement. “It’s a tray. She puts it on a tray for him, and he takes it somewhere else. We don’t know. He doesn’t tell us. He orders us not to follow him. When he returns it, everything is gone.” He pauses again to listen, then, “If there is a knife or a fork on this tray, he leaves them on the counter.”

“That is incredibly odd, thank you. You’re very observant, Ms. Ila,” Barriss says.

Alack translates, then chuckles when Ila replies. “Yes, she is very smart. Ila has actually prepared the next meal already.” He points to the counter next to them, which has a plastoid food tray set upon it. On the tray is a wooden bowl full of soup, a spoon, and several cuts of dried fish.

“Haha, no way. It can’t be that easy,” Ahsoka says.

“It appears that it is,” Barriss says. “Mr. Alack, we would like to investigate this mystery for you and Ms. Ila, but in order to do this we would need to follow Paki. Is there anywhere in this kitchen we could hide?

Alack hums and reaches up to stroke his beard, but stops short when he realizes that his gloved hand is covered in blood. He talks to Ila, and she points at a door at the other side of the kitchen.

“The pantry,” he says. “But hurry, he’s coming soon.”

Ahsoka and Barriss pick their way cross the kitchen, careful to avoid the seal carcass, and go into the pantry room. Ahsoka pulls the door closed so that it doesn’t swing open, but holds it open a crack, so that they both can still see into the kitchen. She and Barriss are crammed together within the small confines of the pantry, and Barriss ends up holding Ahsoka round her waist to keep from falling out.

“At least nine armed men,” Barriss whispers.

“Yeah,” Ahsoka whispers back. She hopes that she isn’t crushing Barriss, but Barriss doesn’t seem uncomfortable at all.

“And if the one you snatched happens to wake up, then he’ll warn them all and everyone will be on alert.”

“Yeah.”

“And they could all be gathered in one place as a result, and would probably be guarding the place where we’re about to go investigate.”

“Yeah. Piece of cake,” Ahsoka whispers. She smiles when Barriss gives her a look of disbelief.

The two of them fall silent when the kitchen door opens again. Paki walks in and scans the kitchen, but his eyes slide right past their hiding place. He talks in Pantoran with Alack and Ila for a little bit, then takes the tray and leaves.

Instead of bowling Barriss over to get out of the pantry, Ahsoka simply scoops her up and carries her out. She crosses the kitchen and, after peeking into the dining room and finding it clear, goes into it and gently sets Barriss back on her feet. Ahsoka puts her hand to her lips and sneaks to the hall to see Paki, still walking down as if nothing is amiss. They don’t move out of cover until he turns a corner and disappears. Ahsoka and Barriss follow him through the mansion until he unlocks and opens a door. He goes through and closes the door behind him, and there is the faint scraping of a key being turned. Ahsoka ducks behind a huge, taxidermy Snow Bear. Barriss hurries to join her, and they wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

Eventually, Paki comes back out, still with the tray. The fish is gone, and so is the soup. He locks the door to the stairs, then makes his way back to the kitchen. Ahsoka stays absolutely still, and only turns to Barriss after the sound of his footsteps fade. She straightens and offers a hand to help Barriss up.

“Think you can unlock that?” Ahsoka asks.

“Of course. Please keep an eye out for me.” Barriss goes to the lock and inspects it, then closes her eyes to concentrate. The Force ripples from her hands.

CLICK.

Barriss’s eyes snap open and she opens the door, revealing a stone flight of stairs going down. “This must be a part of the original castle,” she says. She picks up her skirt and leads the way down. Ahsoka closes the door behind them and follows her.

The stairway opens up to a stone cellar. Segmental arches lead to different compartments within the cellar on either side, and in each compartment and along the center hallway hang simple electric lamps. Within the arches and the floor, stuck in the stone, are embedded iron where the bars were cut away and the remnants were ground flush with the surrounding surfaces.

Further down the hallway, however, are a couple cells that are kept intact. Ahsoka and Barriss run towards them, but another guard comes out of one of the open compartments. He yells at them in Pantoran and draws his sword, but instead of stopping, Barriss and Ahsoka rush forward even faster.

Ahsoka pushes with the Force, slamming the guard’s sword back into its sheath. The guard swears and tries to draw again, but before he can, Barriss leaps at him and slaps her palms into his face.

The guard crumples to the floor, unconscious.

Ahsoka slows to a stop and looks down at the guard’s form in awe. “What? What was that? What did you do?”

“I appropriated a Force-healing anesthetic technique to make him sleep,” Barriss says.

“Kriff, that’s scary,” Ahsoka says, still staring down at the guard. His mouth lolls open as he begins to snore.

“It’s efficient.” But all the same, Barriss’ cheeks glow with the compliment.

“Hello?” A voice comes from one of the locked cells. “Who are you?”

Ahsoka and Barriss go to the cell. An old man stands at the bars, his forehead pressed against them to better see. His gray beard and hair are disheveled and wild, and his clothes are wrinkled. He stinks, and Ahsoka resists the urge to pinch her nose shut. In the cell with the old man is a thin mattress and a chamber pot.

“Count Mafoo?” Barriss asks.

“Yes, I am Count Anathi Mafoo. Who are you? What brings a Mirialan and a Togruta to this place?”

“Senator Riyo Chuchi brought us here,” Ahsoka says, and the man’s bloodshot eyes widen.

“We’re here to investigate your disappearance, your grace,” Barriss says. The Force ripples again as she scans him for injuries.

“Thank the Gods! Thank the Gods. I do not even know how long I’ve been trapped in here.” The man, Anathi, wipes a tear from his face. “You must have seen my family. Are they doing well?”

“They’re mourning you. Your Grace, why have you been locked in here?” Barriss asks.

Anathi’s bushy brows knit together in pain, and he looks down. He says nothing.

About five men, including Paki, run into the hallway from the staircase, yelling in Pantoran. Ahsoka growls and goes to fight them, but they barrel into her and tackle her into the ground. Ahsoka lands hard, the air whooshing out of her lungs. She’s able to grab and throw only two of the guards off of her before they shove her into the closest empty cell. Ahsoka rolls over the floor, then reaches out to catch Barriss when she’s thrown in after her. Paki slams the door closed and locks it, and the guards around him cheer and give each other high-fives.

Paki drops the keyring into his belt pouch, and steps away from the cell bars. “Alive, unharmed. Good.”

Unbridled hot rage wells up within Ahsoka’s chest. If it weren’t for Barriss sitting in her lap, she would throw herself against the bars right then and there.

“You imprisoned the Count?” Ahsoka shouts. “You traitor! He trusted you!”

“You think it was my idea? You think I could do this myself? I’m flattered, Jedi.” Paki turns to the guards and says something in Pantoran, and waits as they pick up the unconscious guards from the floor, then leads the way back out of the cellar. Their voices echo through the cellar and abruptly stop when the door to the staircase shuts. Barriss crawls out of Ahsoka’s lap and watches them through the bars.

“They didn’t take our lightsabers,” Barriss whispers. Sure enough, their lightsabers still hang untouched from their belts.

“Are you complaining?” Ashoka asks. She really shouldn’t be so testy, but her annoyance still eats away at her. It really should have taken more than five fighters to bring her down. A kit could do better than that.

Barriss shakes her head. “I’m just surprised. I didn’t expect them to be so incompetent. They probably didn’t realize what they were. Jedi aren’t well-known on this moon.” She gets up and dusts herself off. “How did they know we were down here? Were we spotted by one of the guards?”

“There is a holocam. There.” Anathi points a small device that’s bolted to the ceiling next to one of the lamps.

“I see it,” Barriss says.

“Then summon it.” Ahsoka stands and unclips one of her lightsabers from her belt. The bile rises in her throat and her lip rises from her teeth in a snarl. It’s only at the sight of Barriss that Ahsoka realizes that she’s broadcasting her loathing through the Force. Barriss’ eyes are wide, and she hesitantly reaches out to touch her arm.

Ahsoka struggles to reign in her temper. It’s not Barriss’ fault, and she doesn’t know. How could she know when Ahsoka’s never told her?

“Summon the holocam now. The longer we’re in here, the more chances Paki has to confront Riyo about us.” Ahsoka ignites her lightsaber and swings it at the bars, chopping through them with ease. She swings again, and pushes with the Force, making the cut bars fall out and onto the floor with a satisfying clatter.

Kark yeah. Ahsoka steps through with a deep breath.

Barriss summons the holocam, plucking it out of the stone brinks, and catches it in her hands. Bits of stone crumble off from around the durasteel bolts.

“Ahsoka? I talked to Riyo yesterday, about…about your mission. You don’t have to tell me what happened, but if you ever do want to talk, I will listen,” Barriss says.

“Thank you.” Ahsoka helps Barriss through the bars with her free hand. Even if she wanted to tell her, what would she say? How could she even begin to explain what happened during that mission?

Barriss gives her hand a brief squeeze, but when she tries to pull away, Ahsoka doesn’t let go. She really hoped that she would take this to her funeral pyre, because it fills her up with hot shame and she doesn’t think she’s ever going to truly get over it, but it can’t be helped. Barriss offered to listen, and she wouldn’t judge her the way other Jedi would.

“They put me in a cage,” Ahsoka manages to say before her throat closes up.

Barriss staggers back, her mouth open. “A cage? Ahsoka, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. You had nothing to do with that.”

Barriss lowers her head only to eye the discarded, still-smoking bars lying at their feet.

One day, Ahsoka will be able to tell the rest. One day. But right now, she needs to focus on the task at hand. She turns towards Anathi’s cell. “Please back up, sir.”

Anathi’s eyes widen and he retreats to the back of the cell. Ahsoka swings her lightsaber again.

KRRRSH. BVOOSH.

Ahsoka yanks the sliced bars away and tosses them to the floor, then puts away her lightsaber. “Let’s go.”

“Eish!” Anathi mutters under his breath as he steps out of his cell. “I admire your enthusiasm, young lady, but Paki and his men locked you and your friend in here not more than five minutes ago. How do you expect the next fight to be any different?”

“Because this time, they won’t catch me by surprise.” Ahsoka leads the way through the cellar and up the stairs. “Doesn’t matter how many men they throw at us this time.”

“Please don’t kill them. I must deal with them myself,” Anathi says. “The Blizzard God demands that retribution come from the wronged.”

“Cool. Stand back, sir.” Ahsoka raises her foot and push-kicks through the door, ripping it off its hinges and cleaving the deadbolt through the doorframe in a shower of splinters. The door flies out and crashes into a guard standing across the hall, knocking him unconscious. The door and the guard drop to the floor with an unholy crash.

The two other guards standing on either side shout in Pantoran and draw their swords. One of them pulls his arm back to swing down, but Ahsoka catches his fist and punches him in the face. His head snaps back and a tooth pops out of his mouth.

Barriss ducks under Ahsoka’s arm and reaches out for the second guard. She uses the Force to bat his sword away and closes the gap between them, grabbing his wrist and locking her elbow so that he can’t swing the sword anymore.

Ahsoka disarms her guard and lets the sword fall the floor with a clatter. She takes him by the throat and lifts him off the floor, then slams him into the wall. The guard slumps, and she lets him go. Past him, further down the hall, are more guards. They run towards her with their swords out. Ahsoka growls.

The second guard’s sword slips from his fingers as Barriss renders his entire arm numb, and she steps onto the hilt with her boot to keep it from being picked back up. He punches, but Barriss swats his fist away and begins rapidly slapping him where he’s open: across the neck, the stomach, the chest. With each movement, she’s grabbing on to either his sleeves, or his wrists, to control him until she tugs on both of his arms to bring him in. As soon as his head is within range, Barriss grabs his face with both hands, putting him to sleep.

Ahsoka picks up the door and flings it down the hall at the oncoming guards. They shout and some of them duck out of the way, but the ones at the back don’t see it until it’s too late, and they’re hit.

The rest of the guards slow to a stop, wary. They retreat when Ahsoka takes a step forward.

“Surrender,” she says, and they stare at her in confusion. “Ah kark, I forgot. They don’t speak Basic.”

Anathi steps out into the ruined hallway, glaring at the remaining guards.

“Kunika!” He bellows. The guards glance at each other, then fall to their knees.

Thandi is a wonderful musician, although her best instrument isn’t the uhadi. She’d make a lot of credits if she got better at the uhadi, as traditional musicians are a disappearing kind, but not as many credits as she would make playing the stringed batanga. Thandi switched to the batanga after playing just one piece on the uhadi, and she’s played complicated song after song since, her fingers flying up and down the instrument’s neck.

Riyo sits in one of the chairs set around the room, watching. She’s didn’t take to music as a youngling; she never really had time to pursue the art, but she admires musicians just the same.

Halfway through the first piece, Xola came into the room. She gave everyone a tight smile, sat in the chair next to Riyo, and listened to Thandi play. She hasn’t moved much since.

Then Paki comes in. He silently crosses the room and leans down to whisper in Mfuneko’s ear. After a few seconds, Paki straightens up and goes to the back of the room, leaving Mfuneko stone-faced. He turns to Riyo.

“Are you a spy?” He asks. Thandi falters and stops playing, and Xola looks at them in confusion.

“No, and I’m insulted at the accusation,” Riyo says.

“Do not lie to me, Senator. Your associates were caught in the cellars, which are off-limits to guests. They were snooping; you are all spies.” Mfuneko’s voice takes a dangerous tone.

Riyo meets his eyes with an even gaze. “We aren’t spies, your grace. What we are is investigating the alleged death of your father, Count Anathi.”

Thandi and Xola gasp.

“If you required proof, all you needed to do was ask! This is a grievous breach of trust and etiquette. We did not elect you so you could come into our homes and pry into our sensitive business,” Mfuneko shouts.

“Mfuneko, wait,” Xola says. She puts a hand on his shoulder, but he shakes it off and stands up. He looms over Riyo, who doesn’t move.

“The people shall hear of your duplicity, Senator. Your political career is over.”

“I strongly disagree.”

“How are you so calm about these accusations?”

CRASH.

A commotion erupts elsewhere in the house, and Paki runs out of the music room.

“That’s how,” Riyo says. She and Mfuneko glare at each other for an extra moment, then they both scramble to follow Paki. Riyo slips and almost falls, but Thandi grabs her arm as she runs past her.

“Come on, Senator! Let’s go!”

They follow Mfuneko down to to main hallway, right next to the foyer, where they find Ahsoka and Barriss fighting off the guards. Ahsoka picks up a door and hurls it at the attackers as if it weighs nothing, while Barriss slaps a guard into submission, her hands a blur.

“Whoa. Senator, your friends are really cool,” Thandi says.

“Surrender!” Ahsoka shouts, but when none of the guards obey, she sighs. “Ah kark, I forgot. They don’t speak Basic.”

An old, disheveled man steps out behind Barriss and Ahsoka. His gold eyes blaze with anger. “Surrender! Surrender now!”

There’s a pause as the guards hesitate, then one by one, they toss their weapons away and kneel, revealing Mfuneko and Paki. The two of them gape at the old man in horror.

Thandi’s grip on Riyo’s arm tightens. “Baba?” She asks.

“Anathi,” Xola whispers, her eyes wide.

“Run!” Mfuneko and Paki turn and sprint to the front door. They trip over discarded weapons and over the kneeling guards, but they manage to keep upright.

Barriss gasps. “They’re going to get away!”

“No, they won’t! Get down!” Ahsoka picks up a sword and pitches it at them as hard as she can. The blade flashes in the light as it whips through the air.

“Ahsoka, no!” Barriss moves to stop her, but is too late. Thandi and Xola scream.

But the sword misses Mfuneko and Paki entirely and embeds itself through the doorframe and into the door itself, jamming it closed. Paki grabs the sword handle and tries to pull it out, but it’s stuck fast. He staggers back and falls to his knees.

“We’re done.”

“No, get up!” Mfuneko frantically tugs at the door in vain.

“We’re done! Stop!” Paki’s shout echoes through the silent house.

“Mfuneko. What have you done?” Xola asks.

Mfuneko turns to face Anathi, his face all purple. “Ruling Bravado has long since overwhelmed you! Your foolish insistence that we not industrialize keeps our people poor! You think I’m still a child?”

“Are you mad?” Anathi screams.

“I am not mad! You should have made me the heir! I know you’ve never liked me! Which one of you have ever cared about me? Which of you has ever thought about me?” Mfuneko starts crying halfway through his speech.

Xola sobs. “He is your father!”

“And I should have killed him!” Mfuneko thunders. “I hate him! I hate you all!”

A deafening silence follows. Ahsoka and Barriss lean down to whisper to Riyo.

“What are they saying?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Riyo absently whispers back.

Xola draws herself up, enraged. She goes around Thandi and Riyo and slowly crosses the foyer towards her son, her footsteps filling the silence. The guards shuffle to the side to let her through, and the closer she gets, the more Mfuneko backs away until he is pressed against the front door. Even though he is head and shoulders taller than his mother, he cowers now before her.

Thandi buries her face in Riyo’s shoulder, and even Paki and the defeated guards look away.

Xola slaps Mfuneko across the face.

Barriss, Ahsoka, and Riyo stay put as Anathi orders Mfuneko and his conspirators to be locked in the cellar, in the remaining prison cells, and the staff escort them down. Thandi waits until they are out of sight before running to her father.

“Baba!” Thandi envelops him in a hug, crying. Anathi laughs, then kisses Thandi’s forehead and murmurs something to her in Pantoran. Xola watches them with tears in her eyes.

Barriss smiles. While they weren’t supposed to come here at all, it’s difficult to consider this wasted time. She could think of worse things to do other than returning a man to his family.

“Senator, Master Jedi, you have my deepest thanks,” Xola says in a thick voice.

Riyo smiles. “It’s the least we could do, my lady.”

“Please, please come with me to the parlor,” Xola says.

Along the way, she gives gentle orders to Ila, Alack, and the rest of the staff. They bring out brooms, dustpans, and other tools to help clean up the aftermath of the fight. Alack goes to the embedded sword and grunts as he tries to pull it out.

In the parlor, Xola sits in the armchair and gestures to the couch. Riyo sits down, followed by Ahsoka and Barriss, who flank her.

“What can I do to repay you?” Xola asks.

“Live well. “My job is to serve the Pantoran people. Your happiness is reward enough,” Riyo says. Both Ahsoka and Barriss turn to stare at her. It’s astounding how gracious she can be. How effortless she makes it look.

Xola shakes her head. “There must be something more.”

“Perhaps access to a comlink. We need to message Defiance about urgent matters.”

“Alas, we don’t have a comlink strong enough here.”

“Isn’t there one in the local college?” Barriss asks.

“No, they tore the comlink tower down to build a more advanced one. It won’t be ready for another month.” Xola stands up and goes to the door, where she beckons to one of the staff. After a whispered conversation, they leave and return with a tray of supplies. Xola takes the tray with thanks, then sits back down in her chair. On the tray are flimsies, a handheld embosser, a stylus, and a small, velvet sack.

“All Galactic Senators are equipped with the latest portable comlinks, yes? You would be able to com Defiance from here if you had yours,” Xola says.

Riyo flushes indigo. “I might have been robbed, my lady. You’re rather perceptive.”

“Once does not become a countess through ignorance, Senator.” Xola takes up the stylus and begins writing in elegant script. “No identichips, no comlink. We must fix that.” She finishes the letter with a flourish and embosses it, then folds the flimsi and puts it into an envelope. She embosses flap of the envelope too, then seals it. Ahsoka whispers to Riyo.

“Was your letter of rec for Sanele supposed to look like that?”

Riyo sighs. “Yeah.”

“Please take this letter to vouch for your identity, and these five hundred credits with our thanks.” Xola holds the envelope and the velvet sack out.

“My lady, it is too much. The letter will do,” Riyo says.

“All Snow Walkers need basic supplies, and it won’t be the first time this house has funded you. It won’t be the last either. Now take these gifts.”

Riyo takes them and slips them into the interior pockets of her suit jacket. “What will you do now?”

Xola puts the tray to the side with a sigh. “There is much to do. We must auction off all of the tacky decorations Mfuneko bought, and then we must clean up the aftermath of that little skirmish. I must send messengers into town to muster the Bravado Security Force, to call back the hunters and open up the piers, and also to the records office to revoke my husband’s death certificate. I must also send word to Dumi that it is safe to come back. And then…and then perhaps I might have dinner with my family. Will you stay the night?”

Riyo glances at both Barriss and Ahsoka, and Barriss must have looked uncomfortable, because she says, “We must be off, my lady. Snow Walkers have long journeys.”

Xola gives them a warm smile. “Of course. Defiance is but a ferry ride away. Should any of you come back, this house will always be open to you.”

Want to read this on Ao3 or on FF.net? Click here for the links. 

[tessatechaitea]

Team Titans #23

Redwing must have been furious when she didn't make the Birds of Prey roster.

The good news is that I'm almost done reading all of the Team Titans comic books I own. The gooder news is that I'm almost done reading all of the New Titans comic books I own! The most goodest news of all is that I'm still alive somehow. Although that's only good news in the sense that, by being alive, I can appreciate being alive. The news that I were dead would be just fine with me as well because I wouldn't have to hear it. The good news about the bad news of my death is that none of you would hear of it either! You'd all just believe that I got bored of writing comic book reviews and went off to live on a beautiful tropic island full of kittens. After I finish reading Team Titans and New Titans, I'll have to dig out another old series to reread. I'm excited to find out what it will be! I was on Twitter earlier and was perplexed by this person's response to a Tom King tweet. If a smarter reader than me could explain what he meant, I'd truly appreciate it!

My current theories: 1. He's just a Trumpist and knows Tom King isn't a white supremacist asshole so he simply assumes this tweet is somehow mocking Trump. 2. The Tweet didn't delve inside the mind of the protagonist thus relying too much on the reader using their own mind to form conclusions of the protagonist's intent, making it a 'difficult' read. 3. The person replying probably just responds this way to all of Tom King's tweets because Batman isn't punching enough villains these days.

This issue begins with Jensen practicing some of his beat poetry.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

Snap! Snap! Snap!

Snap! Snap! Snap!

Audience nods smartly while puffing nonchalantly on long cigarettes.

Redwing has transformed into a woman with the head of a bird and huge talons on her hands. If any of these Team Titans had a romantic interest in her, they'd probably be thinking, "Did her anus, vagina, and urethra just merge into a cloaca?" But apparently none of them do have that kind of interest because none of them are currently throwing up the way I am after having that thought. But now I'm also thinking of Hawkman and Hawkwoman's sex talk. "Let's kiss cloacae, baby!" While everybody tries to pretend Redwing is still the same person she's always been (except grosser), Chimera reminds the Team Titans that other totally-not-monsters-just-because-they-look-like-human/animal-hybrid creatures are trying to kill them. For some reason, Redwing attacks the other Team Titans. Maybe she's just trying to get them to admit that they all think she's a monster now. If that was her plan, it works because Lapidus is all, "If you're intent on proving you're as much a monster inside as well as out, then you'll have to go through me!" Idiot! You're not supposed to say she looks like a monster to her face! You're supposed to act more like her brother Prester Jon and avoid eye contact and tugging at the inside of your shirt collar and mumbling things like, "Yikes!" At least that allows you to deny your true feelings when she confronts you about why you're acting so weird.

Me at prom.

Sometimes I completely understand that I'm reviewing comic books that never wanted me as an audience. I don't care what young person is infatuated with what other young person, or how much bullshit drama one member of the team can create for no reason at all. If I was, I would be a fan of the Legion of Super-heroes. So if I hate this comic book with such passion that I've certainly spontaneously created at least five kidney stones within me, it really shouldn't reflect on the comic book at all. I'm sure somebody cares that Killowat has a crush on Mirage but he's also a racist piece of shit. I'm sure somebody cares that Terra has littered the Troy Family Farm with stone dildos because Changeling won't fuck her. I'm sure somebody cares that Prestor Jon has an issue with his sister because she doesn't look as human as she used to (while it's okay for him to look like Stretch Armstrong). But that someone is not me. I don't think it ever was me. Half the comic books I own were purchased because of simple momentum. I bought the first issue and felt compelled to buy the second issue and, well, fuck it? Why not just keep buying them no matter how terrible they were?! I know that doesn't say anything positive about my decision making but then I've also never claimed to be good at making decisions. The fact that I read every comic book of The New 52 for six or seven years proves that! Prester Jon refers to Qurac as "hell on Earth" which Chimera has opinions on.

"Hell! What a western concept! But, I mean, you're right and I'm going to go along with that characterization so I don't even know why I pointed that out!" I didn't say she had strong opinions on it.

Chimera mentions that she last met the Team Titans in Team Titans Annual #1. Fuck! I didn't review that issue! I'm sure I own it but it might be stored with all of the Bloodlines Annuals. Well, I guess I can review it whenever I find it during my reread of all of my thousands of comic books from the last forty years!

It's true that I never expected Peter David's Aquaman but I certainly wasn't waiting for it.

Prester Jon tries to discover what caused Redwing's transformation (as well as that of the human/animal hybrids outside) while a young Quraci girl looks at Redwing and cries. I think it's supposed to be touching how the little girl can't communicate but she can feel emotions. Although it would be better if she could communicate because, for some reason, she knows the entire backstory as to how and why people became mutant animal monsters. Something about how aliens crashed in the desert and Circe saw they could be used to make human/animal hybrids but some of the aliens died in the desert and when Cheshire nuked Qurac, the aliens were atomized and everybody breathed in cremated alien space DNA. It's totally the kind of thing a little girl would know all about. Chimera shows Killowat and Terra that the Americans have come to Qurac to save the oil and not the people. That sets off Killowat's Angry Right Wing Logic Centers.

Oh? Is criticizing America's foreign policy of protecting investments considered politically correct? Although doesn't this anger and argument seem tame from a 2019 perspective?

Anybody who begins an argument with "I refuse to believe" is a person with whom I immediately stop arguing. It's a great opening tactic because I appreciate your desire to not waste my time by immediately revealing that you won't be listening to facts and evidence. Also, "I refuse to believe America would rape a country of its resources at the expense of saving the people" may as well be a declaration that you spent most of your time in history class yelling, "Nyah nyah nyah nyah! I can't hear you!" Not that America's public educational system was particularly great at exposing America's imperialistic abuse! There's definitely a reason right wing thinkers believe college educations turn people into leftists. Because it does! Leftists are just rational people who aren't viewing the world through the lens of preconceived opinions! College educations are less about broad generalizations and more about trying to put history in as much context as possible. Patriots are often as blind as people of faith. One of the conditions of being faithful is to not question your faith. It's right there in the word! So any examination of your faith is questioning that which you shouldn't question. Being a patriot is the exact same thing. If you question our government, you're against our government. There's no belief in trying to improve our government because it's an acceptance of flaws in the United States. Of course now that's simply become a way to not ever question anything a Republican does because obviously everything any Democrat does is completely wrong. It's believing in tribe over anything else. I am not a Democrat because I believe whatever the fuck every Democrat believes. Hell, I'm not even technically a Democrat! I am liberal, sure. But I don't support any idea or belief from what would be considered my tribe. And neither are a lot of liberals which is why you have trouble with Democratic voter turnout. Every Republican nominee is practically interchangeable. As long as they spout the handful of talking points important to the accepted base (2nd amendment, anti-abortion, Christian values, white supremacy...I mean states rights!), they'll do. But Democrats have the constant fight over whether a candidate will lose voters if they move left away from center while hardly ever acknowledging how many votes they'll gain as they move left. I've always said they should abandon all those assholes at the center. If you're only voting Democrat because you support their social views but don't want higher taxes maybe you're actually a Republican. Because if the Democratic party moves further left and you abandon it because of taxes to side with the gun toting fetuses who support locking up refugees on our southern border, who the fuck wants you at that party anyway?! Back to the comic book, the Team Titans speculate that the cremated alien DNA has combined with the tainted oil in Qurac and the metagenes in certain individuals to transform them into monsters. So now they've got to destroy all of America's profits by making sure the oil isn't sold all over the world. Killowat is all, "I can't believe we're going to save the world at the risk of America's profits!" I mean, he doesn't say that explicitly. But I can read between his racist and xenophobic lines.

Finally an argument that wins him over!

Look, I get being resistant to truth! Whenever I brush my teeth, I can't help thinking about the Barney song where they mime brushing with huge toothbrushes and sing, "While I'm brushing my teeth and having so much fun, I never let the water run!" And then I just let the water run! I know, I know. I'm a fucking monster! Terra and Killowat solve the problem by putting the contaminated oil back into the ground. That seems scientifically sound enough that I won't bother questioning it like a college-educated leftist. But Killowat assures Chimera that she hasn't won the argument even though her argument was simply, "Maybe you should question your government sometimes, idiot." Meanwhile the animal people attack the other Titans upstairs. The Titans can't kill them because they were once people (although I guess if they had always been sentient monster people, it would have been okay to kill them? Sometimes I'm not entirely sure of comic book superhero rules). They solve their problem by sending them into a Fairy Land via one of Chimera's portals. She was hesitant to do it earlier because she didn't know if what transformed them was catching. But now that Prester Jon somehow did science and figured out what happened, everybody agrees it's okay to banish them to a world where they'll never see their loved ones again and nobody will work out how to save them and they'll probably just turn on each other when they get hungry. Superman throwing every villain into the Phantom Zone has left a terrible example for young heroes to follow!

Oh the 90s! When every time anybody said anything, you had to wait a few seconds to see whether or not they really believed what they just said!

Later Killowat acts like a total jerk. But he acts like a different kind of total jerk than he usually acts like. So after he's done, he says, "Whoa! What just happened?! Is that shadowy person on the ground hiding behind the tree controlling me?! And who might it be?! ZERO HOUR!" Team Titans #23 Rating: B-. They sure used to pack a lot of story and words into comic books, didn't they?! And for only $1.95! That's two dollars less than the crappy comics DC puts out today that have four less pages and far less story every month! And it's three dollars less than Marvel books! No wonder Marvel is more popular. People probably look at the price and think, "Whoa! I'm getting a whole dollar more quality out of this comic book than that stupid DC comic book!" It also might help that Marvel doesn't mind having synopses of the story to help new readers or old readers whose memories aren't that great anymore. DC refuses to do the same, instead relying on the writer wasting two or three pages of actual story where characters think about what happened in the previous issue. A lot of DC books suck in collected formats!

[esseastri]

Megan Reads Oathbringer (part 10)

Hi, fronds.

I meant to keep going, I really did, but then That Thing happened and I was really upset and also a LOT of real life things happened, most good, but all busy, so. Bear with me. We’ll get through this monster eventually.

Part 10 encompasses pages 753-828 (previous parts)

I’m still super upset about the Rift, y’all. Like. Ultimate #yikes.

ANYWAY, MOVING ON

“That would give privacy to talk” Okay, but you are still in a public space with a bunch of other people, you maaayybe shouldn’t be, like...just using the king’s name casually like you’re besties?

Since this is supposed to be a stealth mission, isn’t it?

OKAY BUT ADOLIN JUST, UNPROMPTED OUT OF NO WHERE ASKING TO SEE KALADIN’S SWORD

SHALLAN PLS “It’s a little small” GURL PLS

“Kaladin liked them both...just not together.” I’m just waiting for someone to yell at them to get a room. Kaladin is the most likely candidate and I’m going to die laughing when it happens.

honestly, polyamory is the real solution here

Two Unmade.

which means we need two radiants to go fight them so Adolin WHEN ARE YOU MANIFESTING, MY BOY?

literally every time anyone mentions seeing a cremling--especially a weird-shaped cremling--I JUST GET REALLY UNCOMFORTABLE. WHAT IF IT’S 200-CREMLINGS-IN-A-TRENCH-COAT???

“But Adolin had been raised by a mother with a fondness for hugs” I’M SCREAMING THIS IS FINE I’M FINE. HE MUST MISS HER SO MUCH. HELP

wait, but don’t we know for sure that shardblades can be stuff that’s not swords? Like, didn’t Syl turn into a spear at the end of WoR? So maybe the Radiants DID make other tools for their followers--maybe they did have shardhammers for building and shardbows for hunting and shardshovels for digging latrines, but after the Recreance, the spren died, so they lost the ability to change shape?

Worth thinking about, anyway.

“Thank you for being you, Adolin.” “Everyone else was taken already.” BUDDYYYY. I LOVE HIM. HE’S SO GOOD AND WONDERFUL AND AAHH

OOHH, Shallan gets SQUIRES??? Somehow I didn’t really think that the Lightweavers would be one of the orders that had squires.. they seem a solitary bunch.

Kaladin just...scooting down to sit next to the highmarshal without an invitation is. listen, he’s always been brave, but this is a different sort of bravery--doing something that might get you in trouble with social codes is different from running headlong across a not-set bridge into battle--and I know he’s done shit like this before, often, but not...not really in context of military superiors? I don’T KNOW THIS FEELS SLIGHTLY DIFFERENT AND I’M EXCITED FOR HIM.

I find it ironic that the COVERED walkway from the Oathgate platform to the palace is called the SUNwalk, but that’s fine.

Kishi is a really good name, dangit brandon stop taking all the really good names

Azure’s sword is a her?

YOU CAN’T JUST SAY THAT, KALADIN!! “How did you get here?” “I flew.” YOU CAn’T JUST. KAL, PLS

I’m

loev

hem

“I’ve given answers. If they aren’t the ones you want, perhaps the questions aren’t very good.” HELLO, I LOVE THIS BOY VERY MJUCH I DON’T KNWO IF YOU KNOW THIS ABOUT ME

wait come here chasing her

OH JESUS FUCK SHE’S VIVENNA ISN’T SHE

She’s from Somewhere Else and she’s got a weird sword and her name’s a color and Vivenna was SUPPOSED to show up in this book GODDAMNIT THERE SHE IS

heheheheheh gosh that’s fun

...............pleasant.

I suppose it is the HEART of the revel, after all...

I really, really didn’t sign up for a horror novel, idk why this keeps happening SIGH

You know you’ve watched too many shitty action movies when the first thing you can think of when a guy gets thrown off the city wall isn’t “oh god he got THROWN off a WALL” and is, instead, “I bet tehy’d have used a Wilhelm Scream there heh”

Listen, Kaladin, I know you CAN fight without flying, but you are currently fighting flying enemies, and you should absolutely go have an aerial battle with them, please, I just want you to be in more cinematic, badass fights pls.

OKAY, BUT MAYBE LAUNCHING YOURSELF OUT A WINDOW AT THIS FUSED GUY ISN’T THE BEST? WAY TO HAVE THE AERIAL BATTLE?

okay, I asked for this, but I rescind my request, BE CAREFUL BABE, PLS.

YES THE HEART

GO FOR THE HEART

YES

Y E S

“my red life” yah, ok, that’s definitely Vivenna NICE

hnnnngggg, every time Kaladin summons the sylbade and, like, does the thing where he rests her on his shoulder all casual and intimidating I just melt, I’m so

he’s so

and so

hnnnnnnnngggggg

mrrrghhh, OF COURSE There’s a gang that steals the food from Shallan’s informants and KILLS THEM EVEN THOUGH THEY’RE KIDS, uggghhh. Should have known.

Continues the trend of Shallan not really knowing anything about how life on the streets work, huh?

OK this lady with vine patterns in her skin who’s Soulcasting for Azure? Actual Soulcaster suffering the effects to way too many years Soulcasting? OR........Radiant?

Honestly, I suspect literally everyone of being a radiant at this point.

pffffffffffffffffffffffttt HOID

of course.

but why did he help? Why is he helping? What’s his game?

“She hadn’t lived on the streets and she didn’t know how to help people.” NICE YOU TO FINALLY REALIZE.

“The only way to live without failure is to be of no use to anyone. Trust me, I’ve practiced.” COOL, NOW I’M SAD ABOUT HOID. Listen, I know his books are sooo far off, but the more things he says, the more I want to KNOW about him. Argh.

“Many people have suffered more, and they got along fine.” Oooohhh, Shallan, honey. No one ever taught you that the fact that other people have it worse does not negate your suffering.

Also, like. most people have not, in fact, had it worse than you, really. In the grand scheme of things, having to kill both your parents when they tried to kill you sucks a LOT, despite your privilege making the rest of everything better for you...

GOD BLESS ADOLIN KHOLIN, WHO, WHEN CONFRONTED WITH HIS FIANCEE IN PANTS, REACTS ONLY BY COMPLIMENTING HER COLOR COORDINATION AND RECOMMENDING HER COAT BE TAILORED A HAIR BETTER.

BLESS THIS GOLDEN SUNLIGHT BOY.

“You’ve been wanting an army to attack your palace, Your Majesty... well, we’re ready.”

YOU MIGHT BE READY, BUT I’M NOT

DO NOT JUST GO INVADE THE PALACE WITH AN ARMY

GOD, HOW MANY OF YOU ARE GOING TO DIE

hi, Adolin talking to his sword still makes my heart swell, every time, he’s JUST SO GOOD AND PURE AND WONDERFUL

SUNSHINE BOY

HE PUT ON HIS UNIFORM

I’M

I lov hiiiiimm

it’s not Shallan that needs to drive this one back.

I’m still so enamored of this theory, I’m sticking with it even if it’s wrong, I don’t care. One Unmade per Radiant Order. It’s gotta be one of the boys this time. The Heart... Kaladin is nothing but heart, it’s gotta be the windrunner Unmade.

No one tell me I’m wrong, I will be SO DISAPPOINTED if it doesn’t go down this way.

OH SHIT

OOOHH SHIIIT

OOOHHHH SHIIIIIIIT

IT’S THE THING FROM THE COVER THE WHATSITCALLED THE ROCK MONSTER

OH SHIIIIIITTT WE ALL GON DIE

THUNDERCLAST, THAT’s the word phew glad I remembered

listen, Kaladin letting himself get smashed by a giant boulder just so he could Lash it away HURTS MY HEART

DON’T HURT KALADIN, 2K18

yuuuppppp it’s not a shardblade. Blergh, I didn’t finish Warbreaker, is there some wacky shenanigans with Vivenna’s sword? Does it pull the Breath from people or smthn? ...Do people on Roshar have Breath?

Adolin is SUCH ! A GOOD! COMMANDER!

.........I’m very glad that some of the palace guard aren’t evil, but. why did time move weird for them, apparently?

Is this the second Unmade? Is this one something to do with warping time??

I’m confuuuused.

oh

fuck

that’s

hot

GLOWING KALADIN WITH A TWELVE FOOT LONG SYLSPEAR, FLYING THROUGH THE THROWN-OPEN DOUBLE DOORS??? YEAH I’M F I N E, T H I S I S F I N E

nooo don’t split up

never split up

I don’t want this

Adolin giving Kaladin the Bridge Four salute. I’m cry.

oooooooooohh, Shallan summoned Pattern!! And she’s not panicking! I’m so proud of her ahh!!

Skar and Drehey just. continuing to save Adolin. Best bodyguards. Best friends. I love them so much.

mmmmmmmmmmm

I don’t

want this, this is intense this is A LOT

aaaaahhh fuck Kaladin’s wall squad came with. They are SO Going to Die, and I WI LL C RY

she’s singing? So... she’s... hm. What happened to the queen?

I STILL DON’T THINK SHALLAN CAN DEFEAT THIS UNMADE

ohnohecallshissonGav

I’m

ohnohecallshiswifeDearOne

I’m

Elhokar, please

you are so small, just. Be brave.

KALADIN, YOU MADE SYL KILL A SPREN??? I don’t care that it was an evil spren, that’s. You can’t.. Syl. Don’t make Syl kill her family, pls, I’m suffering.

oh no

what ancient spren, WHICH ONE, AESUDAN.

AND HOW

HOW DID YOU BIND VOIDSPREN TO PEOPLE

I’m assuming that’s what it is

I’M CONCERNED

Yelig-nar and Ashertmarn. 1. both of those are terrible star wars names, Brandon, you usually do better. 2. Are those BOTH Unmade? Or is Yelig-nar Aesudan’s...voidspren?

stormspren?

Ancient Parshendi Ancestor of Evil spren?

“I have taken the gemstone into me.” WELL, THAT’S A STEAMING PILE OF # Y I K E S

mmm yeah, no, she didn’t do it. Shallan didn’t defeat it, it retreated. Or was called away or something. We’re deeeefinitely going to have to deal with that again.

oh shit is this the other one?

this is the other one

Yelid-nar is Aseudan’s Parshendi Ancestor’s name. Sja-anat is the other Unmade.

I’m scared.

ON THE STAIRWELL? GoDDAMNIT THAT’S A TERRIBLE, TERRIBLE PLACE FOR A FIGHT

 no

n

o

don’t

make kaladin

kill his parshendi friends

please

oh fuck, Moash is with Kaladin’s parshendi friends, isn’t he?

damn, I AM NOT READY FOR THIS

yeah, no SHIT The heart fled. I TOLD you Shallan couldn’t defeat that one.

but why is THIS one helping her? OR IS SHE

WHAT IS HAPPENING

GOOD DON’T KILL EACH OTHER PLEASE.

oh Kaladin

“He’s always been able to trick himself into seeing a battle as us against them. Protect those you love. Kill everyone else. But...but they didn’t deserve death. None of them did.” HI THIS IS MY GHOST TYPING, I AM DEAD NOW. Kaladin has come so far, from scraping along, doing everything he could to breathe, let alone survive, and now--look at him. Look at him realizing that everyone, everyone is doing the same thing he is. They are all of them fighting to survive, they are all of them fighting to protect what they love.

Everyone is the hero of their own story, even if they are a villain to you.

God, this book is so literary, it’s so strong. Be better. Do better than those who have wronged you. See yourself in those around you, even your enemy, and do better. Take responsibility for who you are and what you do and who you fight.  God, THIS BOOK.

Also, Kaladin trying to stop the fighting, I’m crying.

THEY ARE ALL DYING. I TOLD YOU THEY WOULD AND I TOLD YOU I WOULD CRY AND HERE I AM. SOBBING.

noooo

no no nono

I’ don’t

want this

put it

back

I’m

Elhokar waS SO CLOSE OH M Y GOD HE

ONE MORE WORD OF THE IDEAL GOD DAMNIT

Moash

of course

he always wanted to kill the king

fuck

I knew this was coming because I got fucking spoiled but it still hurt like a punch to the gut

FUCK, HE KNEW KALADIN WAS THERE AND HE DID IT ANYWAY

god

f u ck

I’m

he knew. he saluted. he didn’t even pause.

DAMMNIT, MOASH, YOU’RE BETTER THAN THIS.

god, Kaladin screamed, I’m

not okay

So much for Kholinar, god

“If we engage the device, we’ll be caught in a disaster.” AREN’T YOU ALREADY

...sapphire is windrunners, right? so why is the epitaph.........it’s a sapphire recording. A windrunner. “Am I not supposed to want to help people?” Does that mean...what is the Fourth Ideal of the Windrunners? The order of people who help people. Why...would their Fourth Ideal...not? be about helping people?

UGH, the radiant recordings make me SO NERVOUS ALL THE TIME.

1. I hate Taravangian. A Lot.

2. Here’s a thing: Navani spent a whole book and a half thinking her eldest child was dead, but holding out hope she was alive, and getting to have that vindication when Jasnah showed up. How...how long is she going to hold out hope that Elhokar somehow made it out alive only to have that shattered when the rest of them show up and he doesn’t?

ALSO FUN FACTS, DALINAR PROBABLY NOW THINKS ADOLIN, ELHOKAR, AND KALADIN--THREE OF HIS FOUR SONS--ARE DEAD, PROBABLY, SO THAT’S FINE, I’M FINE.

EVERYTHING’S FINE.

OH FUCK IT TOOK THEM TO SHADESMAR

WHY

OH MY GOD

WHERE’S JASNAH WHEN YOU NEED HER, SHE CAN NAVIGATE THIS SHIT

also !!!! PATTERN AND SYL AND ?????? ???? ?? ADOLIN’S?? SPREN????? PLEASE SAY IT’S ADOLIN’S SPREN. HIS BLADE. WHATEVER. PLEASE.

LET ADOLIN HAVE A SPREN 2K18

god, Vivenna: HARD SAME, GIRL

also, I forgot that she would have had to have come through the Cognitive Realm to get from Nalthis to Roshar, but heeeeheheheh yeah. She knows what she’s doing here, or at the very least has an idea. Excellent.

but FUCK

SHADESMAR

AND EVERYONE THINKS THEY’RE DEAD

and dear fucking god, Moash, you’re better than this, why must you continue to make REALLY BAD DECISIONS.

these are my priorities

leave me alone.

[undergroundbeezy]

Feeling Good... Like I should

Woof. I should not be so candid on here but I think it is helping me and sub consciously Im thinking maybe Kennan will see it and understand me better. Yikes that’s cringe to admit. 

I realized that the way I am hurting and reeling really doesn’t have much to do with him at all. I feel abandoned by him. I was fine until his new relationship and then I sort of collapsed. It doesn’t help that it aligned perfectly with moving out and differentiating from Kylli. The two happening at the same time felt like a stab to the heart and i could not separate them. I felt deeply betrayed by Kennan. He didn’t betray me. He moved on. Thats fine. 

I think I am jealous. I feel like I have a mountain of work to do on myself and his new relationship makes me feel like he must have healed already. Thats not necessarily true and honestly it doesn’t really matter. 

I am really sad that he feels so hostile towards me but there is really nothing i can do. I have been doing my best to process, grow, and heal and if that hurt him ... I am bummed by that. But I truly never did anything with malicious intent. I thought I was doing a good job of everything but I was depending on a lot of coping mechanisms and if those hurt him.. I am really sorry. I’m just struggling through it. I want to repair and heal that fracture but its out of my hands. 

I know I did things wrong in the relationship. Like way wrong. No relationship has ever hit me so hard in the core wound field. It brought out a nasty side of me that I am now trying so hard to heal. I took my broken self and begged him to help me. Then when he did try to help I was horrified. At the end of the day I knew I had to keep my shit on my side so I started resenting him whenever he took it on. He was just doing his best. 

I feel guilt and shame. I wish I could redo parts of the relationship, the breakup, and the aftermath. I wish I could take all i have learned and transport it to my past self. Thats just not the way the world works though. I am learning and thats all anyone can really ask of me. Thats all I can ask of myself. I am trying to transition into an appreciation for the growth process instead of being so critical of the things I’ve done wrong and the way I am cycling through the healing process repetitively. 

[jumukus]

A3! Event: Bridal Concerto Chapter 1-5 Translations

Translations under the cut.

Boy: << ...What is this? >>

Older Boy: << It's Jasmine. Smells good, right? >>

Boy: << Yes… It's really pretty and smells good. >>

<< Jasmine… >>

Older Boy: << Fufu. Are you that interested in that flower? If so… >>

<< ...It's done. You can take this home. >>

Boy: << Whoa… a flower bouquet…! Thank you very much! >>

Izumi: I'm back.

Citron: Welcome back!

Izumi: !?

Citron: Were you surprised, Director!? It's a great success!

Izumi: I was wondering who it was… What's that?

Citron: I drew the lottery at the shopping district and won the "fun set"! There are other things beside this one.

Izumi: There really are. Wig and tiara… these are indeed amazing prizes, though it makes you wonder what kind of concept they’re going for.

Citron: I feel like we can use this as props!

Muku: What do you want to drink, Yuki-kun? I think I’m gonna have some te--.

Citron: Please excuse me!

Muku: Huh, whoah!?

Yuki: The heck are you doing?

Muku: I was wondering who it was…!

Citron: Fufu, it's me, Citron! Shalala!

Yuki: Oh, great, now he's flipping his hair for no apparent reason. What's with that, anyway?

Izumi: That's one of the prizes he got from the lottery at the shopping district.

Muku: I see, there are other things as well, huh.

Yuki: Hmmm, a lottery, huh… But well, you look surprisingly mature in that.

Citron: I really like this thing! I'm going to continue wearing this!

Izumi: (Looks like Citron-kun’s new addiction has gotten deeper...)

Itaru: I’m home…

Izumi: Welcome back. Is it just me or do you look kind of tired?

Citron: Are you alright, Itaru?

Yuki: Did something happen?

Muku: Are you busy with work?

Itaru: Nah, actually…

Itaru: (Okay, I finished my work. Let's quickly go home and grind the event.)

(I wonder what's for dinner--.)

Togawa: Chigasaki-kun, do you have a moment?

Itaru: (...Yikes, he really has to call me now of all time.)

What is it, section chief?

Togawa: One of our regular clients is planning to hold a bigger-scale Wedding Fest this year.

I'm in charge of that project, so I was just discussing a few things with the other party, like the stage design and programme.

Itaru: (Do we do that kind of work, though…? We're a trading company.)

(But well, let's just go along with him for now.)

Oh, I see. What kind of plan is it?

Togawa: The plan right now is to exhibit all kind of bridal gowns from all around the world and invite guests from overseas…

But the truth is… the plan that the other party wanted to do the most is this one.

Itaru: This document… "Best-of-Three Bride Contest"?

Togawa: We're going to have the participants take on the role of a bride and act out three different kinds of situations.

Itaru: (Ah… So it’s like the bride version of the "Bridegroom Battle Royale" Tsuzuru and Citron participated before.)

Togawa: The other party wants to have this plan realized no matter what--.

But in order to make that happen, we need to recruit several actors to be the participants' co-stars first.

So I'm wondering whether the theater troupe you're affiliated with can lend us some help.

Itaru: ...I beg your pardon?

Togawa: If you're one of the members, I’m sure they have a pretty good line-up of actors there.

And since we can't afford to spend much money on this… would you do me a favor?

Itaru: Hmm, how should I say this… I'm very happy that you reached out to me, but I’m not the one making the decision here…

Togawa: In exchange for helping us with the contest, I'll let you be the last performers at the event. I'll try to negotiate it with the other party.

Don’t you think that will be a good PR for your troupe?

Itaru: …

Itaru: ...Well, it took longer than expected but that's about it.

Yuki: I see.

Izumi: (Come to think of it, I wonder why Itaru-san's company actively participates in a bridal event��)

Itaru: To put it simply, it's like a variety show version of etiquette proficiency test.

In accordance with the event, it looks like they want to plan something related to wedding.

Izumi: I've gotta admit being the last performers at such a large-scale event will be a good publicity…

Maybe it’s better to accept the offer.

Itaru: I knew you would say that.

I’m gonna talk this out with Sakyo-san as well.

Izumi: Thank you!

Itaru: Alright, I'm gonna change my clothes now.

Muku: Wedding Fest, huh… What a beautiful event…

Citron: Etiquette proficiency test seems fun! I'm berry interested in it!

Yuki: It should be, "very interested," you know. By the way, until when are you going to wear that wig?

Citron: Oh! I've gotten so used to wearing this I forgot to take it off!

Azuma: This sake is delicious. I feel like this is my first time trying this.

Guy: It was included in our regular package the other day.

Azuma: Oh, really? Fufu, it goes well with this snack too.

*phone buzzes*

Guy: Hm? Looks like I got a text.

...Is it from Mika?

…

Azuma: What’s the matter?

Guy: No, it’s nothing.

Azuma: ...Is that so?

Izumi: ...Therefore, we're going to act out specified situations this time around.

Itaru: Director-san, thank you for your cooperation.

Juza: OK.

Azuma: Fufu, I'm looking forward to this. It seems fun.

Itaru: There will be three actors taking the stage at the event.

Objectively speaking, I think Azuma-san and Juza are just the right men for it.

And since my section chief told me to make an appearance, I have to join you two. In the meantime, senpai ran away…

That person is hella good at evading this kind of subject.

Izumi: Then, I'd like to ask Azami-kun to handle the makeup and Citron-kun to escort the winner of the contest.

Azami: Got it.

Citron: Leave it to me!

Itaru: Then, I'd also like to ask Muku to help out as my assistant…

Muku: Okay, I understand!

Itaru: Sorry for making you do this odd-job-like things.

Muku: It’s no problem at all! I'm very interested in this festival, after all. To be able to take part in this event alone has already made me content!

Itaru: God, what an angel… So dazzling.

Juza: So proud of my cousin.

Citron: That’s my son for you!

Azami: He’s not your son, Citron-san.

Itaru: By the way, my section chief told me he had entrusted the duty to deliver the last performance to us.

Izumi: I’m going to have you all go on stage for that!

Azuma: I’m looking forward to both the Best-of-Three Contest and the performance.

Muku: Phew…

Citron: You’re under arrest! You’re under arrest!

Muku: Whoa! You surprised me right there…!

Citron: Sorry, I’ve unintentionally pretended to be Shinsegumi!

Muku: Fufu, Citron-sama looks cool as Shinsegumi!

Citron: What are you reading, Muku?

Muku: The new issue of a shojo manga! It came out just recently.

It’s a very romantic story that centers around royalty. It follows the protagonist whose fiance is actually her first love.

Citron: …

Muku: ...Citron-sama?

Citron: Oops, sorry! It’s nothing.

Muku: Speaking of which, did you decide to stop sporting that hairdo from before, Citron-sama?

Citron: That hair extension actually suits my fancy…

But since no one is surprised by that anymore, it doesn’t feel new. So I took it off.

Muku: I see.

Citron: Now that it has come to this, I’ll have someone else put that on instead. For instance…

…

Muku: ?

Izumi: I’m home.

Tsuzuru: Welcome back. Dinner’s ready.

Izumi: Thanks! Whoa, it looks tasty today too!

Citron: You’re back, Director?

Izumi: Yup, I just got back.

Citron: ...Are you prepared?

Izumi: Huh? I… I guess…? I don’t know what you’re talking about, though.

Citron: Come on!!

Muku: W-Welcome home.

Izumi: Eh!? Muku-kun…!?

Citron: Our prank was a big success!

Tsuzuru: Huh!? What’s with that?

Citron: I have Muku put on the freebies I got the other day!

Muku: On, on second thought, this is surely embarrassing…!

Citron: No, you’re fine! It looks incredibly great on you!

My addiction is never wrong!

Tsuzuru: It should be prediction, not addiction.

Izumi: You really look like a girl.

Tsuzuru: Yeah, indeed… I’ve been considering this since the inner palace play, but maybe I’ll have you take on female roles in future plays.

*bell rings*

Citron: Hm? Who came?

Izumi: Maybe a courier?

Tsuzuru: At this time? I’ll go greet them for now.

Izumi: For real, though… you look so great in this that you don’t look weird at all.

Muku: Sho-should I be happy about this…

Citron: Obviously! You’re very cute! Lemme hug you, pretty Muku!

Muku: Ci-Citron-sama…!

Izumi: (Ahaha, they sure are close.)

Tsuzuru: Hey, hold on! What on Earth are you--.

Izumi: ? Tsuzuru-kun?

*door opens*

???: ...Citronia-sama!

Izumi: !?

???: …

Citron: …

Guy: …

Izumi: Uhhh, alright, they all have left so please tell us what’s your business here…

Leila: ...My name is Leila.

Just as I mentioned earlier, I came from the Kingdom of Zahra.

I’m here to meet Citronia-sama…

Izumi: (Leila-san… is very beautiful. Furthermore, she’s really fluent in Japanese.)

Ummm, can I ask what’s your relationship with Citron-kun…?

Leila: ...I’m Citronia-sama’s fiancee.

Izumi: !?

Izumi: Fiancee!?

Guy: A fiancee candidate, to be precise.

With his status as the prince of Zahra, Citronia already had a fiancee candidate since childhood.

But both me and Citronia are pretty much clueless when it comes to details of the candidate.

I did hear from Mika that someone claiming to be Citronia’s fiancee is heading to Japan. To think that he was actually telling the truth...

Izumi: (Wow, as expected of a royal family… They do have a fiancee since childhood.)

Guy: However, Citronia is no longer in line for the throne.

I believe talks about engagement should be over as well...

Leila: It doesn't matter whether or not Citronia-sama is in line for the throne. I want to marry him.

Izumi: (She looks very determined…)

Citron: ...Sorry. I’m very happy to learn of your feelings, but I can’t marry you.

Leila: Why? I’ll do anything for you.

I’ve been attending marriage preparation class and learning a lot of subjects. I’ve also been studying your beloved Japanese, Citronia-sama.

If there are other things I need to do, I’m more than willing to do it.

Citron: ...Thank you. But still, I can’t marry you.

Leila: …

...Is the woman just now your lover, Citronia-sama?

Citron: Eh?

Izumi: Woman…

(This is just my hunch, but don’t tell me she’s referring to Muku-kun who was crossdressing…!?)

(I can’t blame her for thinking that way though, especially since Citron-kun was hugging him just now…)

Citron: ...That’s right.

Izumi: Eh--!?

Citron: ...Director.

Izumi: (...Guess he’s trying to settle this thing down for the time being.)

(Let’s see how it goes for now.)

Citron: I have a lover. Therefore, I cannot marry you.

Leila: ...I see.

Izumi: (I wonder if Leila-san accepts it. She should be giving up…)

Leila: ...YOU’RE SORELY MISTAKEN IF YOU THINK I’M GOING TO GIVE UP JUST LIKE THAT!!

Izumi: !?

Leila: I can't accept it! If it comes to this, I'd like to challenge her to a head-on battle!

Citron: Oh! She has turned into a completely different person!

Guy: She's really passionate.

Izumi: B-But how are you going to…

*door opens*

Itaru: Director-san, I wanna discuss the "Best-of-Three Bride Contest" I told you before…

...Hm? Sorry, are you in the middle of something now?

Izumi: Yes, very much!

Leila: Best-of-Three Bride Contest… That's it!

Izumi: Pardon me?

Leila: If I win against that woman in that contest… Please come back to Zahra and marry me!

Izumi: Eeeh!? That's just too unreasonable…

Itaru: What kind of development is going on here?

Leila: But if I lose… I'm going to pay an appropriate amount of money as a reward.

In addition, I won't approach Citronia-sama anymore.

Izumi: Even if you say that, there's no way we will accept--.

Leila: Let's talk about the details later. I'm going to leave this number here. Be sure to call me up.

I shall take my leave now. Excuse my intrusion.

*door closes*

Izumi: She, She's gone…

Citron: …

Izumi: And that's what happened...

Azuma: It turned into such a fuss, huh.

Azami: F-Fi.. Fiancee… are you for real?

Citron: Being popular sure is tough. Sighs…

Juza: You sure she ain't just joking?

Itaru: I don't think so. I just took a look at the participants list and her name is there.

And it looks like she's one of the overseas guests who are invited to the fest.

Izumi: That explains it, then…!

Juza: Oh, so that's why she came to visit Citron-san who's in Japan.

Azuma: Being a guest means she has quite the social status and probably an authority too--.

So it may not be impossible for her to… bring him back to Zahra.

Azami: It that really possible, though?

Izumi: Who knows…

Itaru: I heard she's an heiress of a famous corporation in Zahra.

Izumi: (That explains why she gives off the vibe of a well-educated person.)

Muku: …

Izumi: At any rate, we're going to talk with Leila-san some more in regards of the contest…

Muku: ...I'm going to do it.

Izumi: Eh?

Muku: I know there's a chance this may be nothing but a joke.

But if Citron-sama will be forcibly taken away by a group men dressed in black because I reject the challenge…

Then, we won't be able to meet again because they forbid him to get in touch with a dessicated lotus root like me…!

Azami: There's no way that would happen. And calm down.

Itaru: I think we should have senpai or someone else stay by our side in case what Muku imagined does occur.

If Muku takes on the challenge, I'll help out… So what should we do?

Juza: I'll help out too.

Citron: No problem here! I'll try my best!

Azami: Well, it's your call. You're the one involved in this, after all.

Muku: ...I'll do it.

Izumi: Got it, if that's what you want.

Azuma: It may be better not to announce that Muku is going to participate while dressing up as a woman.

Itaru: We need to come up with a fake name, then.

Citron: Let me think about it!

Azuma: Fufu, I feel like you're going to come up with an adorable and fun name.

Izumi: (Guy-san said he already contacted Leila-san, so… all we need to do now is gear up for D-day.)

(But…)

Citron: "My honey, your miso soup is so delicious today too."

Muku: "Really? Thank you."

Azami: "You always say it's delicious as long as it's mom's cooking, dad."

Citron: "It really is delicious, since you put your love in it, honey."

"Your tasteless soup that's the result of you forgetting to add seasoning, your red hot stew that is served after putting too much red peppers…"

"Your salty cake and your cookies that are as hard as stones… my sweetheart, all of them are supreme cuisine to me."

Muku: "Oh darling…"

Citron: "Back when I first tasted your cooking, I felt like an electric shock running through me. God made us find each other."

Izumi: Hey, stop stop! What's with that play!?

Citron: No, no, we're practicing properly.

Izumi: (Sighs… it's been like this for a while now. Will we be all right at the bride contest?)

Masterlist | Chapter 6-10 >

[alanakusumas]

Title: A Letter to Jake McKenzie (An Officer McKenzie fic, Slight JakexMC)

Follow along the audio post by reading Rebecca McKenzie’s letter here

Characters: Officer Rebecca McKenzie, Jake McKenzie, M/C Word Count: 2746 Summary: Rebecca thought he was out of her life for sure.  It’s been far too long.  Since he disappeared, she has mourned, stored away the memories, and moved on with her life.  That is, until a glimmer of hope resurfaced into her life, reviving her determination to search for Jake again. 

Author’s Note: The soundcloud audio and visual of the letter are just ADDITIONAL COMPONENTS!  You can still enjoy the fic without reading the letter or listening to Rebecca’s audio post.  The letter is in the story, just separated in chunks between Rebecca’s memories.  I just got really into this story so added a lil something extra. 

-------

“Okay, Becca, your turn!”  Your friends giggle excitedly between countless sips of wine. They all turn their heads to you, eyes glistening with anticipation with what’s to come.  “Truth, or dare?”

“Oh, you know me,” You raise your glass and shoot a wink at your friend who raised the question, “I always play it safe. Truth.”  A collective groan is heard amidst your circle of friends.  

“Fine,” She tuts, “If you had to pick just one, who is your best friend in the entire world?”  

Each one of them lean in, hoping their own name will slip out of your mouth, but in your drunken state you could not bring yourself to draft up some bullshit excuse solely to stroke their ego.  In truth, your best friend, who can never be replaced, is your cousin, your ‘brother’, your partner-in-crime, Jacob Lucas McKenzie.

“I-“ You begin, “It’s my cousin, Jacob.  Jake for short, and he calls me Reb,” You mutter the last part.  “We were born a year apart, him being a year younger than me.  We’re both only childs, so we consider each other siblings.”  A sudden wave of reminiscence sends shivers down your spine.  “I feel like it’s a mutual understanding between us, that despite whatever is going on with our lives, we’ll always be each others’ number ones.”  As those last few words slip through you, you begin to ponder whether that statement still stays true.  “He’s serving in the military right now.  It’s been eight months since I’ve last seen him,” You say, almost in a whisper, your heart twisted with nostalgia.  “I wonder if he’s okay.”  

You feel one of your friends rub circles on your back, reassuring you that it’ll eventually be okay, and you seize the opportunity to lean on her shoulder and shut your eyes tight, replaying and grasping onto any visual memories you have of your cousin, your best friend, Jake McKenzie. 

******

Your eyes flutter open, welcoming the dim moonlight, which glows through your window and lit up the ceiling you wake to.  

Ever since you shared that moment of truth with your girlfriends, nobody had heard anything from Jake.  It felt like you’d jinxed his fate.  

You remember exactly what had happened the day the news spread: the phone call, your aunt – Jake’s mom - interrogating you for answers when you certainly didn’t have any, you rushing to your room and searching every social media platform for clues as to where Jake is…It was a nightmare you couldn’t escape for weeks, months, and even to this day.  Everybody was certain that he was out of their lives for sure, and forever.  It seemed like that for quite a while.  

Until, just last week, an unexpected glimmer of hope appeared out of the blue. She persuaded you not to give up yet.

And you don’t intend to.

Exhilaration tingling your mind and soul, you swing yourself out of bed and walk over to your desk, switching your desk light on.  You grab your favourite black pen from your stationary holder and tear a piece of lined paper off your notepad.

Even though the chances your cousin might read this are slim, you’ve mustered up your anger and distress for way too long.  It was time to let those thoughts flow out of your mind and into the ink.  

My dearest Jake –

No, too sappy.  

Hey, scrub –

Would he appreciate that?  That the first words he reads from you after almost a decade is, “Hey, scrub?”

Jake –

You scratch that too.  This is not going well.  You snatch the paper from your table and crumple it up, ripping a fresh page from your notepad once again.  “It’s just another letter Reb, don’t overthink it,” You try to reassure yourself.

Hey, Jake,

It’s been eight years. 

I know you’re out there somewhere, that you haven’t abandoned us for the sake of abandoning us.  I always knew you had a reason, and I’m so glad I got to find out why before either of us disappeared off the face of this earth.  

I remember I was so heated when your mom called me, crying on the phone as she told me that you went AWOL.  I was blinded by my own selfishness, that it made me believe you betrayed us, that you betrayed ME.  

And I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry I ever doubted you.  I miss you so much.  I really, really, really miss you.  There doesn’t go a day where your whereabouts don’t cross my mind.  Family reunions have never been the same since you disappeared.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes, and you allow them to flow down your cheeks, as there is no need to hold anything back this late at night.  

Remember when we used to play hide-and-seek with our cousins, and when it was your turn to be “it”, you never searched for any of them except me, and we would just sit on the swings and wait for them to come out an hour later, all pissed at us?  Those were really good times; I wish we could go back.  I asked why you picked me, out of all of them, to be your sidekick, and you couldn’t think of an answer.  All you said was, “You get me.”  

And I still do.  I get you.  I know you. And I hope you still know me too.

The scribbling stops short.  Jake probably doesn’t want to hear you spilling your heart out over and over again. You blink away the remaining tears. What would he like to hear about?  

 …Anyway…I joined the LAPD!  I attended and graduated from the police academy as soon as I finished college.  You actually inspired me to join, Jake.  I thought we could, you know, continue our misfit character arcs and be the dynamic service duo cousins in the family.  But that’s not the case now, is it?  

Despite our circumstances, I still love how things turned out for me, career wise. I work with a team of brilliant-minded people, and when shit gets intense down in L.A., there’s no doubt they know how to handle it.  Sure I’ve gotten roughed up a few times here and there, but I haven’t died yet, so there’s that.  Fun fact: I met Cassandra Leigh and Hayley Rose while on duty one time (almost got shot, but no biggie)!  I don’t know where you are, but I hope you’ve heard of at least one of them, especially pop sensation Hayley Rose.  (P.S. In case you haven’t heard, she got decapitated. Yikes.) 

You inhale deeply, allowing that breath of air to hold you still and bring your thoughts to a halt.  All of this…rambling is only delaying you from saying what you actually need to get out. What seemed like a brief moment in your memories, was in truth a battle of emotions you never imagined you’d have to face again.  

It seemed like yesterday, your phone buzzed and lit up at 3AM from a message request on Facebook.  You couldn’t sleep anyway, so you decided to check who it was from.  The bright light blinded you, but you made out the name, “M/C”. Her message was typed out like a plea, a last attempt for help.  

“Hi Rebecca,

I’m M/C.  I apologize because this may seem very out of the blue, and it probably is.  Please don’t click away thinking this is a hoax; what I’m telling you is the truth.  And for reasons you can figure out by yourself, I can’t be too specific.

…I have reasons to believe your cousin was the pilot who flew me to my destination two years ago.  I know, this sounds bizarre, and before you ask me “Which cousin?” A) It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, I can’t.  Not here. B) Deep down, you know which one. I’m not telling you this because I’m some random passenger who suddenly found an interest in the mysterious pilot who flew her to an island two years ago.  He was my friend, a close one at the very least, but he disappeared after I flew home (as you can figure out why).  I was wondering if we could meet sometime this month.  I’m sure you’d like some answers, and I want some proof that he’s not a figment of my imagination post-travels.  

However, if you’re at peace with your closure and don’t want to visit this subject again, I completely understand and apologize for interrupting your routine. I won’t contact you again.  

Thank you for your time.

- M/C”

 You bite down on your lip.  Jake didn’t usually post anything on Facebook.  However, the one time he made his presence known on social media, he made sure to drag you in it as well.

You’re the one who snapped his profile picture, the one he’s had up for over ten years.  It’s a candid of his seventeen year-old self; seated in front of you at your favourite local coffee shop back home.  He’s leaning forward, arms crossed in front of him as he glances out the window and onto the quiet morning streets of Shreveport.  The sun rays hit his face and grey sweater in two streaks, causing him to squint at the brightness that’s overshadowed him.  It was the perfect contrast from the mellow, dim lighting inside the café, so you seized the artistic opportunity and snapped the image of your cousin.  Little did you know, he would garner a liking to the photo as well, and ask to use it as his profile picture – not that you would mind.  “Photo creds, @Rebecca McKenzie,” he simply captioned it. That’s where M/C probably found you.

I met M/C last week.  She reached out to me on Facebook, after curiously searching your profile.  Don’t worry, she didn’t expose any information about you online.  She’s smarter than that (though you probably already knew).

I was hesitant at first, but I was also desperately clinging onto any last hope I had of you, Jake.  I put my full trust in her – this stranger who messaged me on a whim - and she returned it ever-so graciously.  

Do you wanna know how M/C looked, when she walked into my apartment?  She had her hair tied up in a high ponytail, and sunglasses tucked at the top of her head.  She wore a green v-neck tee, and paired it off with blue jeans and white sneakers.  Her eyes shone vibrantly, and she carried a smile that could light up the entire night sky.  No wonder she captured your attention.

She’s incredibly, and effortlessly beautiful, Jake. A little bit on the younger side (no judgment here, cuz), but beautiful on the inside and out nonetheless.  

She shared all the wild adventures the two of you had in La Huerta, from your first encounter in your cockpit (Princess, really?) to the last time she had you in her arms, and how you stuffed your dog tag in her hands, reminding her that you’ll be thinking of her every step of the way. M/C offered to let me keep your dog tag, or to gift it to your parents. She thinks we deserve the memory of you more than she does, a college girl who’d spent less than a month with the pilot who brought her and her classmates a lifetime’s worth of adventure. I didn’t take it from her, of course. There’s a reason you gave it to her, and besides, I have enough memories of you as it is.  

When my fingers grazed your dog tag, my heart shattered into a million pieces. Every part of me shuddered.  I had real evidence in my hands, that you are somewhere out there.  You’re somewhere out there, making a means to an end, living the life you believe you’ve been destined for.  

M/C filled me in on why you deserted your station, the whole Lundgren situation and all.  I swear to god Jake, if I could, and if I ever get the opportunity to kill him, I will.  His worthless life deserves to be put behind bars, not you.  I’ve never wanted to strangle anyone more than I do with him.

Your fingers twitch a little at the thought of Lundgren.  The thought of him - even a simple task such as writing his name down - makes your blood boil with revenge.

You rub your arm soothingly, attempting to rid the goosebumps that have raised underneath your skin, and try to recall the good, the better memories M/C had of Jake.  While it was truly magical that you had someone at your dining table, resurrecting your compassion and hope for your long-lost cousin, what was even more magnificent was the fierce passion M/C had in her eyes when she talked about him. You watched her pupils dilate at any mention of Jake, how they gleamed underneath your kitchen’s warm lighting as she vividly described every detail of the short time they spent in La Huerta, and how she rubs the dog tag in her hand, as if it reassured her that this was real, her memories are real, Jake is real.  

In that moment, you realized that the woman sitting in front you - your last glimmer of hope, “Princess” - was hopelessly and selflessly in love with your cousin, Jacob Lucas McKenzie.  

And there was nothing either one of you can do about it.   

Do you love her, Jake, like she loves you? She didn’t tell me specifically, but actions speak louder than words.  It’s been two years and she’s still clinging onto some hope that maybe one day – just one day, you’ll be in each others arms again.  And I would like nothing more for you to be happily fulfilled with your life, with her alongside.  

I cannot even begin to imagine the horrors you’ve had to face these past eight years.  It’s so messed up.  I completely understand if you want to throw your past away and leave it all behind, Jake. But please don’t let this potential future slip away from your hands, just because you’re scared.  She’s scared too.  But she’s just as feisty, as stubborn, and as determined as you are, Jake; which means she’s not willing to give up on you yet.  And I know deep down, there doesn’t go a day where she doesn’t cross your mind, either.  

I love you, Jake.  All I want for you is to chase the life you want to live. Don’t give up yet.  Because I haven’t.  And if I haven’t, you know I’ll find a way.  One day, Jake.  One day you’ll see the woman you’re meant to be with, again.  

I miss you.  Wherever you are, take care of yourself, okay?  I’ll protect M/C to the best I can, no matter what happens.  

Love, Reb. 

[regular-lord-reckoner]

update on the situation at work 

okay, so i had thought my office mate (i have two, we’ll call them b and s and right now i’m talking about b) had just up and quit, like stopped showing up without a word and that was that but apparently that’s...not exactly how it went down 

i know this because of how some shit went down today so okay like...i knew b’s supervisor (we’ll call her s) was supposed to be stopping by my office today because we’d spoken on the phone and i was under the impression she was going to give me some curriculum or whatever to start looking over and maybe show me how to do the scoring thing if she had time 

so my other office mate, s, is there and we’re talking about the situation with b and i was telling her what i thought happened, blah blah blah 

i get up to go make lunch, i’m literally gone like 3 minutes tops and when i come back from the kitchen b is there and i’m like...???? 

she’s got a bunch of stuff with her and she’s like, “yeah, i’m bringing back the rest of my supplies and s is supposed to meet me here to make sure i brought back everything” 

because for our jobs like we usually end up taking a lot of our supplies with us and keeping them in our car just in case so she’d had a bunch of stuff with her, plus like her computer and phone and junk 

and so s isn’t there just yet so b tells me and office mate s the situation and granted like...i’m taking her at her word on this, but from what i’ve gathered i don’t think she’s lying 

so apparently she’d gone back to Michigan i guess last weekend? idk my brain’s been junk lately so time’s messy for me, but point being there was like...a weekend where she went up because i guess one of her best friends was having a baby so she wanted to be there for that but i guess she wasn’t actually going to deliver until monday or something and so b wanted to be able to stay so she reached out to her supervisors 

i guess she didn’t have any pto left, but it was her understanding (and i’d been told this as well) that you could still take time off you just wouldn’t get paid and just make sure you talk to your supervisor first and that you don’t have anything on your schedule  

i think she’d even tried to ask about maybe working four ten hour days to compensate for not being there monday or whatever but she just...didn’t hear anything back? which...again, from what i’ve heard before this, i don’t find too surprising 

so, i think being that she was already frustrated, already at her limit as is, she just said fuck it and went ahead and took monday off 

apparently when she got back to town she tried to log on to her stuff and couldn’t get in so she contacted the help desk and the guy was like, “oh, it looks like your account is set to be deleted soon” or something so like...cool. cool, cool, cool that’s a super cool way to fire someone, just like...don’t say anything, don’t respond to anything, don’t text, call, or email just...kick ‘em out, nice. 

supposedly hr sent out a letter but she said she still hasn’t gotten it so...that’s cool 

they’re putting it down as “job abandonment” but i just...idk. again, i wasn’t there, i’m sure i don’t know every little detail but that just seems....pretty unfair 

and mind you too like...she’d told me before about how when she first started and got the curriculum that she didn’t get the opportunity to see anyone else teach, she had to do it all on her own and so pretty naturally then when it was her turn to start teaching she messed up and she ended up getting written up for it. that just...doesn’t seem right somehow??? 

idk. i know she was planning on moving back home soon anyway, but i think her plan had been to hang on until at least june because that’s when her husband’s contract with his job would be up and he’d be free to quit and they could move, so she could have still kept working and been saving up more money for that, but now it’s gonna be tight because this whole thing just kinda...happened 

again, like...i understand she probably shouldn’t have stayed that extra day since she didn’t get the green light, okay fine but like...if she did genuinely attempt to reach out and her supervisors just weren’t responding i think that would call for more disciplinary action or something, not straight up termination and certainly not just, “Oh well, we’ve shut down your account but no one’s going to actually bother to say ‘hey, you’re fired’ and btw you need to report back to the office to deliver the rest of your shit, thx” 

like...okay???? 

so yeah. i was already trying to not be too frustrated with her when i thought she just up and quit because i could understand the situation she was in, but now especially i’m like...well, fuck dude. 

but here’s the real kicker too so like...b leaves and supervisor s is still there, office mate s is still there, and supervisor s turns to me and is like, “okay, so first i’ll ask, do you want this position?” 

seriously?????????????????????????? after all that mess? Um...no. no thank you. i’m good. 

so i said no and she seemed kind of put out i guess and was like, “Okay, well i wanted to check first before i post the position so i know if i should do it externally or internally” and i’m still just kinda...stunned, i guess. 

but yeah, like i’m good with school-based, i’m happy where i am, i love my supervisors, i love my team, i have my own set of doubts about how good of a job i actually do, but all of my evaluations have been good and it seems like i’ve been doing all my paperwork and shit correct (aside from like one or two errors but even then it was just, “hey, you did this thing, double check next time but don’t sweat, it happens to everyone!”) 

so...there’s that 

and we talked some about me helping out and like i just put it out on the table, like...i said i had no problem trying to help as much as i could, but that honestly it does make me nervous 

i pointed out to her that y’know i’m still pretty new here?? (like honestly, i started in october, but i’ve only been teaching on my own since january) and i’m still trying to figure out classroom discipline and handling students who are just kinda low-level rude and that the environments that this other position requires going into are not really something i feel comfortable with and i’m not confident that i’ll be able to do a good job

and she didn’t really have anything to say about that, so idk. i mentioned again that i was willing to at least try because i am. i can’t completely rule something out unless i’ve at least given it a shot first, but i wanted her to know up front where i’m coming from and why i’m certainly not interested in taking on that position full-time, just...god no 

so we’ll see. she didn’t like...hand me any curriculum or talk about what the next step is, but i’ve got some training sessions on my schedule for may so i guess we’ll see what comes of that 

with any luck hopefully they’ll be able to find someone soon and they can go ahead and just train that person instead of training me and this other school-based person, but i know that’s kind of a long shot (i know for my position they conducted like...three separate batches of interviews which had a pretty good handful of candidates each time and they picked me out of everyone so at least as far as my branch goes they’re pretty picky) 

and if nothing else like...my supervisor did tell me i could let her know at any point if it’s just too much or i’m too uncomfortable and just don’t want to do it anymore, because she doesn’t want me to feel overwhelmed and especially doesn’t want me to just quit so i’ve got that in my back pocket, i guess 

i just...wow. 

i hate that this situation turned out the way it did, especially for b. i know she was going to quit anyway, but like still. i feel like she told me, though, that her position has had a pretty high turn over rate and i just...can’t imagine why. 

i mean it’s already tough as is because of the work itself, like honestly i’m such an asshole but any time what i do has been too hard i’ve thought to myself, “well, at least i’m not doing THAT” (oh, how that’s come back to bite me in the ass) but like...yeah, that on its own would be hard enough to keep someone around long-term, i think, but adding on top of that supervisors who pile so much work on your plate and who don’t communicate with you like you should resulting in situations like this like...yikes on bikes, dude 

it’s weird how we’re all in the same program but like...office mate s and i both have supervisors that are just...waaaaay different than that 

like my supervisor is so chill about shit, she really doesn’t care how i arrange my hours so long as i don’t go over 40 and so long as i don’t feel like i’m just drowning on long days and shit. 

she usually gets back to me super quick unless she’s just really tied up and even then it’s still never that long of a wait and she’ll tell me beforehand “hey, i’ll be out of town for this event, but you know you can reach out to so and so if you need something!” so that i’m never just sitting there like, “where is she, why isn’t she responding to me???” like she even gave me full access to her calendar online so any time she adds something to her schedule i can see it and know where she’ll be and when would be a good time for me to get in touch should i need to 

i just...i really love my supervisor and that’s the only thing that scares me is that someone over her head might decide to pull me into this position against my will and that i’ll have to work under these other supervisors instead and i just...do not want any part of that whatsoever 

i don’t wanna say i’d quit because i’d hate to, i really would, but like...i don’t think i could do that. 

so yeah. that’s kind of where it’s at right now. as for where it will go...who fucking knows. i’m just gonna try to hang on and hope for the best and know that i’ve got a parachute strapped to my back even if i do get pushed out of the plane