#maybe i'll manage to get my high school diploma | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

giacosketch · 4 days

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Hello! I Graduated!!

Hey, hi again. It's been a bit since my last update, but I wanted to share what I've been up to since you last saw me.

So, let's rewind to a few months ago for my last post. That was a school project I had to do, but I want to take this blogging thing kinda seriously to keep track of my work and career progress. So, jumping to now, I finally decided to get off my ass and make a new post! Anyway, let's talk about the meat and potatoes of the post: my graduation from the Seneca College (or Polytechnic) Diploma of Illustration program!

I've been in school for a LONG time now. I started in Art Fundamentals (or 'fundies' as I'll refer to it) at Sheridan College back in 2016. Then, after some hiccups and a few failed classes here and there, I took a year off. I then reapplied to Fundamentals and redid that so I could get the credits needed to get into Sheridan's famous Animation program! After two attempts (one during my first round of Fundamentals, and the other during the second), I finally got into the Animation program! But after some more failed classes and hiccups, paired with being held back a year and the beginning of the COVID-19 Pandemic, I just ended up dropping out of the course, cursing the name of Sheridan College, and taking yet another year off to ride out the pandemic and see where things would take me. This takes us to 2022 when I applied to Seneca College for their animation program and their illustration program. Now, you may be asking, "But if you're gunning for animation, why did you switch to Illustration???" and to that, I say 'I needed something to change'.

I initially went to art school to pursue comics and MAYBE storyboarding because I thought it was cool. It wasn't until some chats with tutors and classmates that I switched to animation. I was hesitant at first, and the more I look back, the more I think I just wasn't ready for that kind of work. But I did it anyway, and turns out, while I do like animating, I don't like animation school (at least not yet).

So, after a few weeks of waiting, I got an update from Seneca! I did not get into the animation program, BUT I was accepted into the illustration program. I took this as a sign to pivot and try something I wanted to do from the start. Who knows, I might like it! So, I accepted my offer and again, after SOME hiccups and a few failed classes, I… I graduated… I actually did it, I graduated college, and it DIDN'T suck!

I won't bore you with the full details, but my experience at Seneca was really good! With my past knowledge of art school and generally knowing the structure of assignments and the deadlines, I was able to manage my time and my work while also experimenting with new mediums and techniques I was too scared to try before. I went in with the mindset of 'Well, I paid for it, might as well try'.

I kid you not, that carried me through this program, even when I didn't want to do the work.

So, after an amazing 5 semesters (I was held back one) and the amazing crit and help I got from my professors, I got to the end game of making a four-image set piece for the Illustration Grad show. This is the program's thesis project, which basically everything you learn leads up to. The show went amazing, my family and friends all came out to cheer me on. My classmates won awards for their beautiful artwork, and after an amazing week of the show and a great reception night, it was all over. The college ride came to an end, and I can now hold my head up high and say…

"I graduated college."

TLDR: I went to Sheridan College for some time, messed around and failed. Then I applied to Seneca College for their animation or illustration program. Got into illustration and had a great time, then I graduated!

Full visual Timeline*:

*This timeline is leaving out some important things that happened but for the sake or simplicity and privacy, I left that stuff out.

OK so that was A LOT to take in and read, how about we talk about some art!

So I said I got my work into the Illustration Grad show and I bet you're wondering 'What was the work you did?'

this is it!

INVISABLE

11 x 17 cream text paper

Risograph Print

(and here is my artist statement I wrote to accompany the piece:)

Change is a force all around us. We see it in our everyday lives and experience it within our minds. Both the invisible and visible change controls us. I’ve experienced it a lot during my time in school, both artistically and emotionally, and I've seen my family and friends change from once familiar nostalgic forms, into mature and responsible beings.

INVISIBLE brings creatures from our deep past,(Microraptor, Tiktaalik, Smilodon, and Australopithecus) and inserts them into our modern era in familiar settings. We think of these animals as things from a time long forgotten, or as museum specimens, but without the past, the present just wouldn’t come to be. Their lives, and struggles shaped us and molded the very ground beneath us. We are our past, just as much as we are our future.

Pretty fancy, eh? I wanted to really put on my artist cap for this one, and I honestly had a blast making it.

Each of the skeletons shown is drawn as ACCURATELY as I can make them. I referenced skeletal diagrams, research papers, and I reached out to some paleo mutuals and Discord servers for some critique. Oh, and you may be wondering why Risograph. To be honest, it's really just because of the aged look of the ink. I wanted a semi-museum quality to the final product, and Risograph just felt right to me. Shout out to the amazing Colour Code Printing for the excellent work they did. Lastly, the name "INVISABLE" is in reference to how these animals and the change they caused are NOW invisible to us, and it's also a reference to the Duran Duran song of the same name. I liked the vibes a lot, and there was a meme circulating around with the song at the time, so it was in my head a lot. The feeling I got from the vocals and the instrumentals was something I wanted to recapture in my work, albeit to varying success. I'm extremely proud of this work, and the reaction from everyone at the reception was awesome!

I do hope to maybe one day do another gallery in the future, but I'm also not really about that kind of stuff. But the last few years have taught me a lot about myself and that I have to be open to change and reinventing who I am. I can't stay stagnant, or I'll just sink, and I've seen it happen to many, many people not only in school but at work and just out and about. Keep an open mind and try new things; that's the lesson I learned throughout all of this.

If you're reading this and you don't know how to feel about growing up or if you should go to school, all I say is this: Try new things and don't be afraid to mess up. Fail faster, and you'll learn faster.

#artists on tumblr #illustration #art #artist #blog #school #Seneca college #sheridan college #college

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lacharcutiere · 3 years

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give me one night [nsfw 18+, sawamura daichi]

1,2k words

masterlist | next ➪

part one of i'm gone i'm gone i'm gone miniseries. high school graduation is a very bad time to realize you're in love with one of your closest childhood friends.

lol just to clarify, JST means "japanese standard time". i'll also be using EST later on, meaning "eastern standard time" (aka the time zone new york is in). JST is 13 hours ahead of EST !

tings // briefly referenced alcohol consumption, v soft n loving sex :) , a lil angst // i swear this søng is abøut eating øut my best friend's pussy - cøzybøy // dm, ask or comment to be added to the taglist ! minors dni.

— AFTER-GRAD PARTY: 27TH MARCH, 2021. 22:37 JST.

daichi’s always hated obligatory picture-taking, but he doesn’t mind it so much now. maybe it’s because of the thoughts about how these are your last few months together, the questions about whether he’ll see you again after it’s over. it’s been only hours since he realized he loved you, watching you walk across the stage, dazzling smile on your face as you received your diploma. he’s got one arm around your shoulders (and the other around kōshi’s) as parents and friends stand around you guys, snapping picture after picture until he’s sure he’s about to go blind from the flash.

out of nowhere, you pull the brim of his graduation cap down over his face, and he laughs. he loves you. and it’s a terrible time to realize that, because you’ll be leaving for new york by august. he’s lucky, at least, that he won’t be headed off to college until then either; he doesn’t know what he’d do if he didn’t get to see you again before you leave.

your voice, glittery with laughter, startles him out of his thoughts: “dude, y’okay?”

“oh, ha, yeah. i’m fine.” he notices a group of your other friends waving you over, nudges you toward them with a little laugh. “hey, i think you're needed elsewhere.”

you’re like magic, making him smile as he watches you laugh with your friends, exchange hugs, take a thousand more photos.

☾𓆙𓂻

you are like magic. he doesn’t drink often, but hey, kōshi tells him, we graduated, have some fun, man, and a few beers—just enough to blur the line between want and need—in you’re drawing him to you; he literally cannot stay away. he’s going to tell you he loves you. he has to. he absolutely cannot keep it a secret. he cannot keep you a childhood friend and nothing more. he thinks he might implode if he does.

— AFTER AFTER-GRAD PARTY: 28TH MARCH, 01:12 JST.

somehow you’re in his bed, he doesn’t know how you got there, not because he’s intoxicated but because all he can focus on is you. you, as you giggle and press his shoulders back into the pillows, kneeling on his mattress and trapping him between your thighs; you, as you ghost your lips down his throat and allow him to undo the zip on the back of your dress; you, as you stand and let it fall to the floor, leaving him in heaven and the presence of a goddess.

he can’t even fathom how complete he feels when he’s inside you, your arms around his shoulders, tugging at his hair and scratching into his back. he doesn’t understand how there can possibly exist a sound as beautiful as you when you cum, whining and shivering and clinging even tighter to him. he loves the way you say his name, soft, breathless whispers of daichi, daichi, fuuuck, loves the way your lips part when you do, soft and pink as he brings them back to his own.

— 07:43 JST.

was it all a dream? it must have been; there’s no one else in his bed. but there are cumstains on the sheets which prove otherwise. he’s almost afraid to text you.

— 16:31 JST.

☾𓆙𓂻

he arrives to pick you up a couple minutes early, sending you a simple I’m here text and leaning against the hood of his car as he stands outside and waits for you. when you step out the door, his breath catches. the smile you meet him with is mesmerizing.

☾𓆙𓂻

“so… what now?” you ask him over half-finished bowls of udon. after nearly an hour of avoiding it, it’s probably best to address what the two of you came here for in the first place.

daichi sighs, trying to balance rationality with the fact that he’s definitely in love with you. he realizes he still hasn’t asked you what your feelings are, and although he’s almost scared to know, he counters with a question of his own. “what do you want to do?”

“i dunno, what do you think—“

“no,” he says. “forget about what we should do, for now. i wanna know what you want first.”

his eyes don’t leave you as you avert your own, staring down into your soba and thinking. your cheeks flush and he swears he can feel his pulse speed up. when you look back up at him, your expression is soft and almost sad.

“i kinda want this,” you say, and suddenly everything stops except you. “i do want this.”

“okay…” he nods, urging you on vaguely aware of where this is going.

“but. new york. columbia. i already accepted their offer. and, i don’t know…”

“hm?” his tone is gentle.

“i don’t… i don’t think i could do long distance.” you pause to try and collect your thoughts; he waits for you to continue. “i don’t think that would be a good idea. because i don’t even know how often i’m gonna get to come back home. and, um, i don’t know—i mean, like, if we were actually together—i don’t think i’d be able to just not see you, you know?”

you’re right, he knows you’re right. he tells you this.

“but i do really want this,” you say quietly.

“me too.”

“so what do i do?”

“tell me your plans after college again.”

you shrug. “get my master’s, i guess? get a job in sendai or something?”

“okay,” he says. “okay. i’ll wait.”

“what?”

“i’ll wait,” he repeats simply. “i mean, if you’re okay with it, too.”

“what do you mean, you’ll wait?”

“we can, like, just keep things the way they've always been until we can make it work? until we’re both done undergrad, at least.” he stops, realizing he might be going too far too fast. “sorry.” and then quieter, almost shyly, he asks, “i— uh, sorry, i— how much do you want this?”

you shake your head at him, and there’s a tiny smile playing on your lips. “i’ll wait.”

— PRE-DEPARTURE: 20TH AUGUST, 2021. 18:32 JST.

somehow he’s managed to convince your parents to let him drive you to the airport separately tomorrow morning. they probably assume there’s something going on between the two of you already; you hadn’t hung out nearly this much since elementary school, when they’d still been the ones arranging your play dates. no one really minds, though; your families were always close and anyway, it really is just a matter of time.

he’s just finished dinner with your family when he nudges his knee against yours under the table. “spend the night at mine?” he says quietly, although he knows your parents will still hear. it’s fine; they love him. he watches you look to them in question, half surprised when your mother nods and allows you to go.

☾𓆙𓂻

on the walk back to his—just a few streets down, actually, he catches you thinking out loud. “is this a good idea?”

“is what?”

“you know... to, like, stay over. at yours.”

he laughs. “we won’t do anything, promise. friends for now, remember?”

“okay.”

— 23:32 JST.

you’ve fallen asleep next to him, in his bed, midway through the second movie of the night. he notices almost immediately, shuts his laptop and turns out the light. he pulls you into his chest, arms firmly around you. just this night. just for one night, he doesn’t have to let go.

taglist: @sakruisin-thru @softetsurou @oligbia

#haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #daichi x reader angst #daichi x reader fluff #daichi x reader smut #daichi x reader #daichi sawamura #sawamura daichi #haikyuu series #daichi texts #haikyuu smau #? kinda

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ask-megamind-blue-defender · 3 years

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The Stupidity is Strong With This One...

People of Metrocity,

As you all have no doubt noticed, our fair city has acquired (and in all probability gotten rid of) a new villain. Who calls himself a supervillain. And really probably isn't. Because for the short time he roamed our streets he made even the most idiotic plots of Destruction Worker look almost brilliant.

Honestly! Even Judge Sludge finds Destruction Worker deficient in the intellect department, and Sludge literally has mud for brains. So when I unfavorably compare someone's mental capacity to that, that's bad. Really, really bad.

A few months ago, I wouldn't have thought it possible. Then Doctor Time Warp happened.

Really! Having to actually fight this guy, in public, was embarrassing! Not to mention time consuming! Because I will say this much: the jerk was tenacious.

For those among my fans who have no idea what their favorite blue hero is talking about, allow me to describe the hilarious yet humiliating spectacle that is Doctor Time Warp.

And yes, I know, I probably shouldn't be giving would-be supervillain's advice, but come on! Good or Bad Guy, professionalism is a requirement in this lifestyle! So I am going to point out a few things that literally everyone should already find obvious.

1.) If you're not a doctor, you're not a doctor!

Look, I know what you've all read in comics, but trust me, no matter what side of "the Cape Game" you're on, titles like "Doctor" and "Professor" are so 1985. And these days, unless you actually hold a doctorate, professorship, or whatever-it-is, you can get sued for that crap. Seriously. Don't do it.

Six years ago, Captain Courage, (who, by the way, really was an army captain before the bizarre microbes in a fallen asteroid gave him superpowers,) actually managed to successfully bring a malpractice suit against Dr. Agony, saying that he was falsely claiming to be a medical professional. The lawyers did the rest. It was, without question, the most hilarious take-down I've ever seen, made more funny by the fact that, back in my villainous days, I told Agony three different times that that name was going to land him in trouble.

Anyway, Doctor Time Warp definitely didn't qualify. Do you know what his last job was before he woke up one day and decided "gee, I think I'll be a supervillain?" Fry cook. Seriously. Who didn't even have a high school diploma. He was sort of like the anti-doctor. I mean, come on, his name was just pretentious. And if the man who once called himself the Incredibly Handsome Criminal Genius and Master of All Villainy says you're pretentious, then trust me, you're pretentious.

Also, his name was just begging for me to blast "The Time Warp" from The Rocky Horror Picture Show at full volume. Which I did.

2.) If you're going to be a professional, look like one!

You all probably already know how I feel about PRESENTATION! It's a vital part of any super's persona. With a name like "Doctor Time Warp" I would have expected a mad scientist look, or at least that he might have sprung for a lab coat. But no. Warp didn't even have a decent uniform. I get it. Not everyone can invent a waterproof, bulletproof, laser-proof environmentally-safe super-fabric, but at least invest in some tights and a cape. Something.

What did Time Warp wear? Footie pajamas. I'm not kidding. Do you have any idea of how embarrassing it is for a professional to be forced to fight a grown man in blasted footie pajamas? Come on!

3.) If you're not a big player, don't try to play a big game!

When I first received a Zoom call (no, really, the idiot actually contacted me on ZOOM,) from someone calling himself Doctor Time Warp, I thought: "ah, a supervillain with time-bending abilities, or maybe a working time machine! This should be an interesting challenge!"

And then I was very sadly disappointed.

No time machine. No special abilities. Nothing.

Do you know why he chose that name? Because he thought it might be fun to have plots themed after every possible holiday and special event on the calendar. Really. Every. Single. One.

Did you know that August 2nd was National Coloring Book Day? Neither did I. But guess who did? And guess who made a truly sad attempt to somehow turn what has to be literally the most innocent pastime in all creation into something evil?

Right. That didn't work out. Kids loved the "evil" coloring pages he scattered all over the city. They weren't even that scary looking... It was like H. P. Lovecraft and Disney decided to do a joint project. Everybody just assumed they were from someone looking to get into the Halloween spirit a little early.

I mean, maybe if they had been soaked in some sort of mind-altering chemical that made every child in Metrocity misbehave at once, it might have at least caused a little chaos. (For the record, I am absolutely NOT suggesting that someone should do that. I WILL hunt you down.) But no... They were only coloring pages. With free crayons. It was practically like a public service.

Then, two days later, on National Chocolate Chip Cookie Day, he attempted to steal all of the chocolate chip cookies in Metrocity. And managed to actually empty one mini-mart and half a grocery store of all of their Chips Ahoy stock. I'm told over a dozen people were mildly inconvenienced by that particular villainous scheme.

In fact, Doctor Time Warp was so pathetic, and I've been so busy with the Doom Syndicate and criminals, that I tried to just ignore him at first. I hoped that if no one encouraged him, he would go away. But he kept showing up with some other harebrained plot every few days because, clearly, he was determined to make a fool of himself. And force me to actually waste my time fighting him.

So I granted his wish. Last week I finally had enough of his irritating boasts, late-night Zoom calls, and ridiculous "plots." He wanted to play with the Big Kids? Fine. I mounted up on the Speeider Bot, laser canons blazing, and (metaphorically) stomped him into the dirt. Then took him to jail. Where he actually tried to get bail.

Sorry, that's not how it works, Cupcake! Supervillains are expected to escape prison! Have fun with that! But, hey, cheer up, Warp! Maybe you can share some of your coloring pages and cookies with your cell mates! It will be just like preschool all over again! Only with more punching. A lot more punching.

Anyway, the point is that if you're going to try to face off with the Incredibly Handsome Heroic Genius and Defender of All Metrocity, you'd better make sure you're up to scratch first. Because my patience only stretches so far. And I swear, the next person to pull this sort of crap WILL go into the alligator pit!

(Granted, Sir Snaps-a-Lot, Spiky, Ally McKill are about as tame as gators can be, and are surprisingly chill, not to mention lazy, so all they'll be likely to do is watch you and decide that waiting for their next meal of raw chicken is far easier than bothering with you. But it's the principle of the thing!)

Don't be that person. That's all I'm saying.

~Megamind

#Megamind #megamind #funny #joke #time warp #dr time warp #dr. time warp #villain #supervillain #fail #epic fail #humor #Metro City #Metrocity #metro city #metrocity #Defender

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castielific · 3 years

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Title: Fancy and the tramp

Story status: Complete, 8 chapters

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Dean/Castiel, Alternate Universe, Fake boyfriends, pretend relationship, homeless!Dean, rich!Cas, family, angst with a happy ending, temporary breakup, getting back together, coming out, past!homophobia, self esteem issues, Dean Winchester has a sexuality crisis, first time, homelessness, bed sharing, pining

Sex tags: anal sex, switching, bottom!Cas, bottom!Dean, first time, frottage, marking, blowjob, fingering, barebacking

Special warning: Contrary to what the title may presage, there are no spaghettis in this story.

Summary:

"Okay, let's be clear on one thing from the start. This is not a lifetime movie and I'm straight, so no falling in love, get it?"

"I get it, Dean," Castiel nods.

Well, that's it then, apparently Dean is going to a fancy engagement party with his new fake boyfriend. What a weird day.

Link to AO3

Chapter 1 under the cut:

************

"Come on Ricky, you owe me that money!" Dean says on his phone, taking a step forward when the line of the coffee shop shortens.

"I don't owe you shit, Dean. You still owe me the last three months of your rent," his ex landlord says on the phone.

"And I'll pay you, you know I will. But to get the money, I need a job, and to get that job I need some new clothes and-"

"Yeah yeah, I know the deal. You think no one has told me that one before? No bueno, man, I'm keeping your deposit," Ricky grumbles.

Dean groans in frustration. "Come on, all I need is fifty dollars so I can buy a pair of pants without any holes in it. You give me fifty, I get the job and I pay you back, how does that sound?" he tries to negotiate.

"Like a fucking lie," Ricky spits just before hanging up.

"No Ric-fuck!"

The woman in front of him in line sends him a dark look. Dean rolls his eyes at her. Like she hasn't heard worse before.

Ricky was his last shot. It was a long one, he really does owe that bastard some serious money. Guess he can kiss the job interview at two goodbye. It's some kind of assistant job. It sounds easy enough, buying coffee and picking dry cleaning and stuff. It was still a long shot anyway. Dean's only real job experience is being a bagger boy when he was seventeen and it lasted about two months before his dad decided to move them further east.

So far, he'd always managed to get by doing repairs or cleaning at gas stops and motels. The older he gets and the harder it gets to find that kind of random job. People are more willing to give a few bucks in exchange for manual tasks to a kid than they are to a nearly thirty years old guy. Now they just tell him to fuck off.

And since it's always been casual and off the book, the only official work experience he has is the bagger thing. He doesn't even have a high school diploma because he dropped out long before that. Not exactly a stellar resume. Which explains why he hasn't found work in eight month and is currently living in his car. Thank God he has Baby.

He had been too ambitious thinking he could get his own place. It could only pay rent for about five months before he went broke. He's never had a home before, and had no idea that having an apartment cost so much. In motels, you don't exactly have to pay for water or heat or utilities. There was a bunch of stuff he hadn't planned for that ate up the last of his meagre savings. Ricky threw him out after three months when Dean couldn't scrape up enough money to pay rent anymore, putting a violent stop to Dean's pipe dream of living a normal life. He hoped it would be simpler to get a job if he had an actual address, had even thought about scrapping up enough to maybe get his GED. He's not sure what he's going to do now.

He's always wanted to be a mechanic. If his dad ever taught him anything, it was how to take care of the Impala. John taught him all the basics and Dean got the knack of it. As a teen, he spent days reading car magazines and working on the Impala, trying to learn as much as he could about how cars worked and how to repair the different parts. He knows enough by now that he could easily work in a garage, but he's got no diploma, and hasn't found anyone willing to hire him on faith alone.

The line of the coffee shop shortens again, the barista asking her order to the goody-two-shoes in front of him. Dean looks regretfully at the display of sandwiches. He searches his pockets and only comes up with three dollars. Of course, the cheapest piece of food cost four dollars. Dean sighs. Guess just a coffee will have to do today.

He won't have another choice but to go to the soup kitchen tonight. He hates it there. The food is crap and he wants to punch the prancy people serving it. They always try to give him some Jesus bullshit with his food, like Jesus is ever gonna put a roof over his head and find him a decent job. Neither Jesus nor God nor whatever gives a crap about him. Not that he blames them. Hell, if they exist they're probably not big fans of the guy that used to slip into church as a kid to pick the lock of the donation box

"Just an americano, please," Dean says regretfully when the barista asks for his order. At least it will keep him warm and fill his stomach for a short while.

Halloween just went by and the weather is becoming really cold. He should use the last of Baby's tank to go as far south as he can before winter really hits. He probably won't get farther than Wichita though, and the thought makes him shiver. No one wants to get stuck for a winter in Wichita. Maybe he could go and see if he can make a few bucks at the nearest motel, that kind of place always needs a handyman's help. He hasn't tried the one on Corn Street yet. He's noticed only two lights are still working on their sign, he could offer to help with that. If he makes fifty bucks, he might be able to reach Austin.

Dean stops on the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop, pondering if he should walk to the bar a few streets down or the motel. Sometimes Benny, the owner of the bar, lets him use the sink in the back to wash up. If he's lucky, he'll even get some leftovers from last night. It's generally just some stale pretzels, cold fries on good days, but it's still better than nothing. He's got two cans of beans and a car with an near empty tank to his name right now, so he's not picky.

Dean takes a look at his watch. It's eleven thirty already, the leftovers are probably already in the trash at Benny's. The motel is probably his best bet.

"I'll give you a hundred dollars if you pretend to be my boyfriend." comes a hoarse voice, way too close to his ear.

Dean jumps, nearly spilling his coffee on himself. He spins to the right to face the man who just talked and is met with a pair of clear blue eyes. Way too close again. He waits a second for the man to take a step back as he realises as close Dean turning brought them, but the guy just continues to stare at him, head slightly tilted to the side. He's wearing an oversized trench coat over a dark blue suit that looks expensive. He's so close a gust of wind makes the bottom of his coat brushes Dean's shin.

"Dude, personal space," Dean reproaches, taking a step back. "And fuck off, I don't swing that way," he adds, not meanly. It's not the first time he's getting hit on by a dude. Sadly, not even the weirdest. He's strictly into chicks though, so no dice.

"Two hundred bucks," the man insists. He looks ready to fall on his knees and beg, eyes going wider and wider as he throws a panicked look to the right of Dean's shoulder. "It won't take more than ten minutes and all you have to do is nod along," he begs, making Dean wonders if he's in danger somehow. Maybe he has a stalker or an abusive ex?

Dean follows his eyes to a woman coming closer. She's very elegant in a grey pantsuit and a long white fur coat as she walks straight toward them. He can feel her eyes judging him even from thirty feet away, looking at him from head to toes. If he wasn't already self-aware of the number of holes in his jeans, he would definitely be under that gaze.

"Five hundred dollars," the other man whispers just as the blond woman reaches them.

"Castiel, dear, you should have told me we would have company, I would have notified the restaurant," the woman says, sending a clearly disapproving look toward Dean as she deposits a kiss on the other man's - (Castiel, apparently, what kind of name is that??) - cheek.

"Mother, let me introduce you to my boyfriend," Castiel says, looking ill at ease. He's obviously not a very good liar.

Dean blinks a few times as their attention turns toward him. Castiel seems to be trying to communicate something with his eyes, and Dean frowns in incomprehension for a moment before he gets the hint.

"Huh. Dean. Winchester," he finally says. "Ma'am," he adds when she just continues to stare at him like he has grease smeared all over his face. He's pretty sure that she wouldn't want to touch his hand if he were to offer it to shake, so he doesn't.

"Naomi Novak," she introduces herself. "What a delight to finally meet Castiel's new companion," Naomi says, her deadpan tone contradicting her words. "Of course, I would have preferred not to be ambushed by such an announcement. Castiel, you know, that Le Délice hates it when we change our reservation last minute. Who knows if they will even have a table for three," she declares, already composing a number on her phone.

"It's okay, mother, Dean won't be joining us for lunch."

"Oh, is it because your attire isn't appropriate?" Castiel's mother asks, looking at the holes in Dean's jeans and the big leather jacket that used to be his dad's. "I assure you they won't say a word about it if you're with us," she reassures.

Dean squirms a little, wondering what the hell is even happening. Ten minutes ago he was buying a coffee and going at his day like a perfectly normal person (well, albeit a homeless and jobless one). Now, his fashion sense is being criticized by the mother of a man who is pretending to be his boyfriend. Did a piano fall on his head or something? Has he finally lost his mind?

He looks to the man beside him. He's scratching the side of his neck in nervousness. The move makes his coat fall a little over his wrist, revealing a freaking Rolex watch. Dean looks back to the woman, eyes sliding on her diamond earrings and the huge rock around her neck.

You know what? That's not okay. His stomach has been crying for food since last morning, and he's what? Supposed to help this stranger by saying no to free lunch at one of the most prestigious restaurants in town? Fuck no. He's gonna eat like a king and make a few hundred bucks off the back of those rich assholes.

"In that case, it would be my pleasure to join you," Dean announces with his most charming smile.

"What?" Castiel can't help but bark. "But y-your work thing?" he tries, sweating. The round panic eyes are back. Dean sends him his best shit eating grin. They both know he now either has to invite this stranger to lunch or reveal the lie to his mother. The guy is trapped and may as well continue to play along.

"It's not as important as a chance to finally get to know your mother, honey," Dean answers. "He's told me so many nice things about you, Naomi. Can I call you Naomi?"

"Of course, dear," Naomi says. She looks a little wide eyed too, probably thrown by Dean turning on the charm to the max.

"Perfect! We shall go now, we don't want to miss your reservation. I do hope it won't be too much of a bother for them to add a chair to your table," Dean says. He should probably tone it down with the pompous tone, because he nearly added an English accent here.

Naomi leads the way, and Dean is going to follow when a hand grabbing his arm makes him fall a few steps behind.

"What the hell are you doing?" Castiel hisses.

"Acting as your boyfriend?" Dean says innocently. By Castiel's glare, he's not fooled.

"I asked you to nod silently for ten minutes, not to do method acting for a whole meal," he reproaches. Naomi sends a look behind her shoulder and Castiel smiles at her like there is no worries, indicating for her to lead the way,

Dean shrugs. "I had some free time."

"I'm not giving you more money than planned, if that's your goal," Castiel says with a suspicious squint.

"I'm fine with the five hundred as long as you're also paying for lunch," Dean says, wiggling his eyebrows as they walk toward the restaurant. Something passes on Castiel's face that Dean can't quite identify. The other man stares at him for so long that it's a wonder he doesn't trip. He finally relents with a long suffering sigh as they enter 'Le Délice'.

Apparently, Naomi Novak is prominent enough that they don't mind changing her reservation after all. They're seated at a table near a legit indoor fountain. Dean is looking around, trying not to let show how impressed he is by the place. The walls are made of stone and covered in frescos that he always thought you couldn't see outside of a church or castle. A waiter gives him a leather covered menu and Dean opens it eagerly. After a few niceties to Naomi, they're asked what they want to drink. Dean has an inkling that he probably shouldn't ask for a beer in an establishment like this.

"Same for me, please," he says after Castiel ordered some wine with a name Dean can't pronounce. At least, he hopes that's wine. Who knows. Hell, in this place the bottles of water are probably more expensive than his usual brand of beer.

Dean starts to second guess his decision when he realizes that the menu is in french. What is it with rich people and France? He just wants a damn steak, how do you say that in french? Is there even steaks here or is it just frog legs and snails? Oh god, he hopes not.

"I think I'll take the duck today," Naomi notes. "Nobody cooks it better than chef Francis. How about you Dean? Have you ever come here before?" There is a mean glint in her eyes that says she knows perfectly well he hasn't. Hell, from the side eyes he got from everyone as they crossed the room, everyone here knows he's not from their world. There are three holes in his jeans, threads hanging from the bottom and his dad's leather jacket probably should have ended up in the trash about three years ago. Even now, it's still too big for him and the sleeves are so scruffed that they're nearly paper thin. The original dark brown color has turned to a light beige in most places from wear. His scruff is just the bad side of too long now, and he hasn't had a haircut since April, strands starting to fall into his eyes. At least, he's wearing his best plaid shirt and managed to wash up last night, so he's not smelling too rank. Why would Castiel pick him out of all the people in the street at that moment to play his boyfriend? It makes no sense at all. From the guy's obvious discomfort as he hides behind his menu, he probably realizes it.

"Actually, Naomi, duck sounds like a delicious idea," Dean says, voluntarily ignoring her question. To be honest, he’s never even eaten duck before, but it's poultry so it probably taste like chicken. You can't go wrong with chicken, right? His stomach certainly likes the idea, gurgling so loudly that he has to hide it behind a cough.

Castiel ends up ordering some fish and soon their drinks arrive. Dean barely has time to sip at his red wine before Naomi pounces.

"So, tell me everything, how did you two meet?"

Dean nearly chokes on his drink. Castiel seems to gulp down his whole glass.

"We met at a coffee shop. Dean was in line in front of me and we started to talk," Castiel explains, not quite meeting anyone's eyes.

"How quaint!" Naomi exclaims, clasping her hands in delight. "I'm just sorry that you didn't tell me about it sooner, Castiel. How long have you been keeping this charming man a secret?"

"Not-," Castiel clears his throat, "-not long."

"Well, it's nice to finally meet you Dean. I sure wish this luncheon will give me the chance to learn everything about you."

Luncheon? Who even talks like that outside of Downton Abbey?

"I do hope I'll get to keep some mystery, we wouldn't want this guy to lose interest," Dean says with a wink. He pats Castiel's hand on the table. Should he hold it or something? How open on PDA are gay people those days? Not that he knows more about how heterosexual couple act in public anyway, especially in those crowds. It's probably safer to keep the PDA to a minimum here.

"You have to at least tell me some things. For one, what career path are you on?" She looks like a shark circling her prey.

"I'm a mechanic," he lies. He'd rather stay as close to the truth as possible. It's a little unfair that Castiel is letting him do all the talking when his initial demand was that he stayed silent, especially since it's his skin that Dean is apparently saving, but the guy looks like he's swallowed a potato whole.

"Oh, that's...interesting," Naomi says in that insincere tone of hers. She looks like he told her he was fucking children’s corpses every full moon. He's two seconds away from telling her that he's actually jobless, penniless, and homeless, just to see her face, when Castiel intervenes.

"How is Anna's engagement party coming on?"

Thankfully, this seems to be a subject Naomi loves because she tells them about every aspect of the future party all the way through their meal.

Duck, as it turns out, is actually very good. It's more like red meat than chicken, which is a great surprise. Although, Dean isn't a fan of the way rich people put tiny quantities of food in very large plates. He eats all the dinner rolls and scrapes every single bit of sauce out of his plate, yet he's still hungry by the end of it. He nearly starts crying when the waiter asks them if they'll take dessert and Naomi declines. He's starting to wonder if that little piece of duck was worth sitting through lunch with her.

"That sounds like you're turning this into a wonderful event, mother, Anna must be delighted," Castiel compliments.

"Oh, you know your sister," Naomi waves it off. "It sure feels like a nice opportunity to introduce your new beau to everyone."

Dean frowns. What's a beau? Is that him? That's not him, right?

"I wouldn't dare take any attention away from Anna," Castiel tries to refuse.

"Don't be daft, you know your sister won't care. Everyone will be so happy that you've finally found-" she passes a long look, over Dean, like she's doubting anyone would actually approve of him. She certainly doesn't seem to, "-someone," she finishes lamely.

"Oh shoot, I don't think I'm available that night," Dean tries to play off.

"I'm not sure I've told you the date of it yet."

"Cas did," he says. The other man perks up at the surname, but whatever, 'Castiel' is a mouthful. "And I have this huh work thing, you know? Bummer," Dean says with a fake pout.

"What kind of 'work thing' can a mechanic possibly have on a Saturday evening?"

Dean tenses up, pursing his lips. "One he can't get out of?"

"Nonsense, you're coming," Naomi brushes off. And that is that apparently. Shit. There is a vein about to pop on Castiel's forehead. "Castiel, dear, you look a little white. Was the fish okay?"

"I-Yeah-I-Actually, do you think we could possibly cut our lunch short? I am indeed feeling quite unwell."

"Of course, my dear," Naomi says, leaning forward until her hand touches his forehead. "You're as clammy as a fish. I should come home with you, and make sure you're okay," she announces, taking her napkin off her lap and deposing it on the table, ready to stand up.

"No!" Castiel stops her, a little too brusquely. "I-Dean will take good care of me, don't worry," he says, getting up and grabbing Dean's arm so he does so too. Dean follows his lead, all too happy to get out of here. "Stay and enjoy your tea, mother."

"If you say so," Naomi says, sending an unsure look at Dean, obviously upset at being brushed off in his favor. "Call me this evening, or I'll worry all night."

"Of course, mother," Castiel acquiesces, kissing her cheek. Dean hovers behind him. Is he supposed to kiss her too? Wave hello? Shake her hand?

"Dean," she says as what is apparently a sufficient goodbye. Thank God. "I'll be sure to see you on Saturday," she reminds just as they're walking away.

Cas turns on him as soon as they're outside the restaurant.

"What was that?!" he asks, not quite yelling. He starts pacing, rubbing a hand through his already pretty ruffled hair.

"You owing me five hundred bucks? Dude, you're lucky I don't charge you more for the fresh hell I just lived through."

"You went through hell? You?!" his pacing gets faster and Dean has an idea that if he stops pacing he might punch him in the face.

"That's what you get for asking this kind of stuff from a perfect stranger," Dean shrugs, pushing a pebble with the point of his shoe. His red sock is peeking out from a tiny hole near his big toe. It's such a contrast to how grand everything and everyone looked in there. It's making him feel like shit. He's maybe feeling a tiny bit guilty for trapping Castiel like that too. He doesn't seem like a bad guy, albeit one with a psycho mom.

Cas turns on him, eyes glaring and mouth open in what will probably be a flow of reproaches. He stops himself before he says anything though, seeming to deflate. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breathe instead, shoulders falling. "I'm sorry. You're right. I should be thanking you. I have no right to make you any reproach when I brought this on myself."

"It wasn't so bad, though, was it? I mean, I think I sold it?" Dean asks, a little hesitant. He even used pedantic talk and everything.

"You did as well as could be expected."

"That's not much of a compliment…".

"I shouldn't take more of your time," Cas apologizes, taking his wallet out. Dean goggles at the amount of cash in there.

"You really shouldn't have that much cash on you, that's, like, asking for trouble."

Castiel squints at him like he's wondering if that means Dean is gonna rob him for a moment, before he hands him a wad of cash.

Dean's eyes bulge out, "That's way more than five hundred dollars."

"There's also an advance in there to buy some clothes for the engagement party."

"The what now?" Dean blinks dumbly for a second until his brain catches up to what is happening. "Dude, no, I'm done!"

"You were the one to push it so far in the first place," Castiel reminds. Accuses, really.

"I just wanted to eat fancy food, okay! Not, like, go steady."

"There will be lots of food at my sister's engagement party," Castiel tries to persuade. Badly.

Dean gives him a nonplussed look. The cash feels heavy in his hand. He's never had so much before. This could help him get a new start. What's a night of playing Downton Abbey compared to the many many nights he might not have to freeze his ass off in the backseat of his car thanks to it?

"Why are you even doing this anyway? And why would you choose me? Do I look that desperate for cash?"

"No," Cas says after what's definitely a too long pause. Dean scowls. "You were in front of me in the coffee shop line. I heard you talking on the phone. You said you needed some cash to buy a new outfit for a job interview. Begged, really."

"Where the fuck do you get on listening in on other people’s conversation?"

"I didn't listen, I just heard."

"You know, what? Fuck you," Dean spits, "I don't need that bullshit in my life right now." He has enough cash to get to Austin and replenish his stock of food, even buy some new clothes. At least this way he can keep his dignity rather than being insulted by a bunch of rich assh-

"Please," Castiel begs, following him as Dean storms away. "You don't understand…"

"Oh I understand perfectly," Dean says, stopping and turning around so brusquely that they nearly bump into each other. "You think you can shit on other people from your high horse and that they'll still do your deed for a few hundred bucks. Well, I'm not your freaking puppet, man."

"I have never shitted on any-" he stops himself with a frustrated groan, before turning on the puppy dog eyes. "Dean, please. Listen to what I have to say at least?"

"I know what you're gonna say. I've seen that movie before, Cas. You're going to bring me to that party, so you can parade me around like I'm some earned price or some shit. Meanwhile you get to appease mommy dearest and the clan of hyenas putting pressure on you to find a husband, while still having the satisfaction of giving them a huge fuck you by bringing a guy like me instead of the golden boy they're dreaming of."

"I-" Castiel stops himself, pursing his lips. "That's actually not that far from the reality."

"Of course it isn't. Told you, I've seen that trope before. Except this is real life and your plan sucks, so you can keep your money and I'll keep my dignity. Just grow a pair and tell them all to fuck off, will ya?"

"You sure do like saying that to people," Castiel sulks. "Are you sure you can't do it for me?"

"Oh believe me I would love to tell your mom to fuck off, but I like my balls attached to my body, so that's a hard pass."

Castiel laughs slightly at that and Dean can feel his own anger start to abate at the sound. "Good self-preservation instinct on your part," Cas mumbles. The puppy look is still there, except now it's making him feel like he's kicked the puppy.

"You know, we're in the 21st century, right? You shouldn't feel pressured to the point of inventing a boyfriend. Who gives a shit about that nowadays?"

"My family does," Castiel answers in a long sigh. "You don't get it, how could you... I have three brothers, Dean," Castiel explains. "Two sisters. My little sister, who is just nineteen, just got engaged. I was already seen as the irremediably unwed one and now I…," he pauses, sending a nervous look at Dean, looking ashamed.

"Oh come on. How hard can it be? You're rich, objectively good looking. Do you have weird kinks or something?"

"I-I wouldn't know. I've never even been in a relationship before," he confesses, looking at the ground.

"When you say 'relationship', you don't mean you've never…" Dean inquires. Cas' cheeks redden, and Dean blows like he just got punched. "Wow. That sucks."

"Yes, it's very pathetic."

"What? Eh no, it's not pathetic. Surprising, yeah. But, to each their own, you know?"

Cas inclines his head like he's not sure he does know.

"I'm sorry I tried to drag you in all of this. You seem like a good man. You don't deserve-"

"-to be served on a platter to your family?" Dean asks, searching Castiel's gaze until they exchange a smile.

"Yes. That." The man is still looking dejected. The money is still in Dean's hand. That duck really was good. Damn it.

"The food better be freaking awesome," Dean relents with a frustrated grunt. Castiel seems instantly relieved. "And you're not pretty woman-ing me," he warns, pointing a finger at the other man. "I'm choosing my own clothes and I don't give a shit if I don't know which fork to use for fish."

Castiel's head is tilted and he's blinking owlishly, like he doesn't understand a word that Dean is saying. Figures. He's not sure how he could convince anyone that he's this dork's boyfriend, honestly. Naomi certainly looked like she wasn't fooled.

"I'm sorry for the way my mother behaved toward you. I assure you, being yourself will be amply sufficient to the task."

"Dude, the way y'all talk, where do you come from, Victorian England?"

"I-I don't think I have English ancestry, no. Why?"

They blink at each other for some time.

"I must be a freaking masochist."

Cas' face scrunches up even more in incomprehension.

"Okay, let's be clear on one thing from the start. This is not a lifetime movie and I'm straight, so: no falling in love, get it?"

"I get it, Dean," Castiel nods.

Well, that's it then, apparently Dean is going to a fancy engagement party with his new boyfriend. What a weird day...

You can read the rest on AO3

#destiel #destiel fic #deancas #dean/castiel #dean/cas #spn fic #ao3 fic #destiel fanfiction #AU #pretend/fake relationship #homeless!dean #rich!cas #myfic #my fic #castielific #castielificfic

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d-xs · 4 years

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PROMPT:

RELATIONSHIP: BRUCE WAYNE & JASON TODD

"What's going on?" Dick Grayson asks, stepping into the kitchen. He has his game face on and strategically occupies the vacant seat between Bruce Wayne and Jason Todd.

Ever the mediator, Jason thinks, rolling his eyes and getting to his feet.

He knows what's coming. Dick will side with Bruce and try to convince Jason to change his mind. Jason knows he already lost, but maybe that can be delayed further if he puts enough distance between himself and the occupants of Wayne Manor.

"The invitation to Master Jason's graduation arrived today." It's Alfred Pennyworth, who until now has chosen to ignore Jason and Bruce, who answers. "He has declined to attend the ceremony."

At times like this, Jason wishes he could go back to the time when he was trying to kill the Bats and they were trying to put him in Arkham.

Ah. Fun times.

Unfortunately, life likes to fuck him over and Dick catches up to him just as he's about to get on his bike.

"Hey, Little Wing," Dick says, skidding to a stop. "What's this about you not going to your graduation?"

Jason rolls his eyes. "That's all it is."

"Come on, Jay." Dick gives him one of his blinding grins.

"Why can't I skip my graduation without the world ending?" Jason snaps before Dick can continue with whatever platitude he was preparing to spout. "You can drop out of college, and that's okay. Tim drops out of high school and it's no big deal. Hell, Damian decided he was too grown up for school and no one batted an eye. But I don't want to attend my graduation and it's the apocalypse!"

"You know that's not why Alfred and Bruce are concerned," Dick says, turning his sad eyes on Jason. "It's not the same."

"You're right; it's not the same. At least I completed the units requirement and the diploma will be sent in the mail. So how about you and everyone else get off my case? Tell Bruce I'll let him have it if it will make him feel better."

It's mean and Jason hates himself, even as the words leave his mouth, but he doesn't take them back. He doesn't hear Dick's response. Too busy hightailing it away from the manor on his bike. Jason can’t take another moment of Dick's sad eyes.

Jason doesn't doubt for one second, that this is what Talia hoped for when she forwarded his mails to the Manor. He should have expected it when she didn't respond to his announcement that he was skipping the ceremony.

By some miracle, he manages to avoid Dick and the rest of the Bats for the next couple of weeks. In that time, he's blissfully free of any talks about his graduation ceremony.

Just one more week, and Jason can put this whole thing behind him.

Turns out, he should have been less focused on Dick coming after him to make his case, and more concerned about Bruce refusing to take no for an answer.

Jason has just finished dismantling a human trafficking ring, disguised as a modeling agency in Tokyo. He plans to take a couple of days to rest in his hotel and enjoy the tourist attractions before returning to Gotham. That plan goes out the window the moment he finds Bruce, not Batman, waiting for him in his hotel room.

"Whatever it is," Jason sighs tiredly, too exhausted to get in a screaming match with Bruce, "I'm sure it can wait a few days until I return to Gotham."

Bruce actually looks sorry when he answers, "Your graduation is in a week."

This is Jason’s personal hell. Willis was right. Nothing good ever comes from going to school.

"What does it matter?" Jason asks. Since he's not getting into a fight, he's going to take a shower. "I already made it clear I'm not going."

"Why?" Bruce asks and he sounds so genuinely confused, Jason can't tell if he's faking it.

"Why?" Jason snarls angrily. "Haven't I made myself clear enough?"

"No, you haven't," Bruce replies as he shakes his head. "You've said a lot of things to derail the point, but nothing about the reason you don't want to attend your graduation."

"Because I can do what I want and I don't want to attend? Because it’s a stupid ceremony? Because--"

His voice cuts off when Bruce places a hand on his shoulder.

"Jaylad," Bruce says, so softly that it makes Jason feel like a kid again.

Jason takes in a shuddering breath to distract himself from the burning behind his eyes.

"Do you remember your first day of school after coming to the manor?" Bruce asks. His hand has traveled up to Jason's temple, brushing his hair back.

Does Jason remember?! Like Jason could ever forget. It was one of the best days of Jason's life.

"I'd never seen anyone so excited about school," Bruce continues. "Alfred and I thought your excitement would diminish with time, but it never did. Every day was the first day all over again. As much as you loved being Robin, you never let it get in the way of your education.

"You were always so excited to learn, and not just in school. Everything you came across was a chance to learn something new. I'd never met anyone that could soak up information like you can, Jay. And I know how excited you were to graduate high-school, because you never thought you would. What's the real reason you don't want to go?"

"It's not like I don't want to go, okay?"

Jason scrubs his eyes to hide the tears gathered there. He's never heard Bruce string together so many words about him that didn't include a scold or an insult. It's a heady feeling and Jason doesn't know what to do with it.

"I'm a fraud. I didn't even want to go to school. But Talia said she wouldn't train me unless I got a life outside my revenge. I thought with how much she looked down on the western world, their educational system would annoy her more than anything."

"I see," Bruce says in that carefully controlled tone he uses when he's mimicking an emotionless robot. "But you didn't have to continue after your training."

"It was just something to do, and for a while it was all I had." Jason shrugs. "And now they expect me to give a speech about the experience when the only reason I went was because I was blinded by revenge."

"Sometimes, I want to turn back the clock to before…" Bruce swallows heavily and Jason can see the effort it takes to continue speaking. "If only it will save us both the pain and heartbreak you've been through. Losing you was the worst thing I'd ever been through. You were so young, so bright and full of life. There's so much we had planned, many of those things we'll never get the chance to do.

"If you really don't want to attend your graduation, you have my support. But if you do decide to go, nothing will make me happier than to be a proud parent in that hall, cheering you on as you give your speech and accept your degree. Because you're not a fraud, Jason. Talia may have given you the ultimatum, but you saw it through. You did the work and now your hard work has paid off.” Bruce grips his shoulder. “I couldn't be more proud of you."

Jason's breath catches and he feels the dam holding back his tears break as tears pours freely from his eyes. He wants to say something, but his throat is tight with emotion.

Bruce doesn't hesitate to pull Jason into a tight hug. It feels exactly like it did when Jason was a kid and the safest place in the world was his dad's arms.

"You're okay, Jaylad," Bruce murmurs, comforting him as his tears soak Bruce's dress shirt. "I have you."

It takes a while, but he finally calms down long enough to say what he really wants. What he needs Bruce to hear.

"Thanks, Dad," Jason chokes. "Also, I'd love to have you at my graduation."

The smile Bruce gives him is one he hasn't seen in years. Knowing it's for him, makes Jason even happier.

#cara writes #ojtserversunday #Jason Todd #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #good mom talia #good dad bruce wayne #jason todd & bruce wayne #cara.scribbles

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laytonsartblog · 5 years

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The Best of Worst Days

Economic Crisis AU

Ch. 1, Ch. 2

Warning: this content has violence, poverty, guns, starvation, hypothermia, dysfunctional family themes, and dystopian themes. Read when comfortable and in a safe spot. Care for yourself.

Patton has a schedule he dedicates his life to.

First, to get up at five.

Then take a shower, standing in a bucket.

Why a bucket? To catch the dirty water.

After his shower, Patton will put that murky liquid into a filter to drain out all the gunk and make him and his son breakfast while he's waiting. Once he's finished with all of that, he takes the filtered water and pours it into empty water bottles and then throws them into his tiny icebox.

Proceeding is obviously to wake up his adorable little four-year-old Virgil and eat with him until it's time to go at six-thirty, and walk Virgil to his pre-k daycare with the rest of breakfast and the fresh water bottle as lunch.

From that point on it's just to get to his work at the construction site by seven and work until two pm, and pick Virgil up to bring home.

They play and eat and maybe visit the park for two hours, then Patton has to get to his other job down the block at a small crafts store by five, which is where he'll be until midnight, then walk all the way back home and fall flat on his face to sleep on the floor.

Simple, right?

Yes, well, there's this thing called sleep depriviation and insomnia that gets in the way.

When Patton wakes up as he does every day, his tired eyes make their way to the clock before bulging out of his head. It's six am.

He scrambled to get Virgil up and about. "Virgil!" Patton whispered as he gently shook his son's shoulders. "Virgil, Papa's running late for work, you need to make your own sandwich while I get ready, okay?"

Virgil merely whined and curled in closer to his thin blanket.

"Pleeeeeease?" Patton pleaded. "I know it's a bit sudden and I usually let you sleep in more, but Papa can't do everything at once, okay?"

Virgil finally sat up and groaned, wiping his eyes. "S'okay, Papa. I'll help."

Patton smiled softly as Virgil clumsily went about to his little cubby to grab a clean shirt and shorts to change into, before remembering the time and running off to change too.

Patton came out of the bathroom with his expendable construction t shirt and jeans and stared at the time; six-thirty.

"Come on, Virgil," Patton urged gently as he picked his boy up. "We're gonna need to skip breakfast today, but I'll leave you some money to get something at the cafeteria, okay?"

Virgil nodded sleepily against Patton's chest. "Okay, Papa..."

Patton sighed contentedly as he continued to hold Virgil on the rest of the walk to the daycare before placing him gently down in front of the door. He fished in his pockets for change.

"Don't worry, honey, I'll have something here somewhere..." Patton trailed off as he continued to search through his pockets for maybe even a dime, but, no, there was nothing. Patton gave up his search with a sigh. "Well, kiddo, I- I think you'll need to ask for some of your friend's extra snacks, or maybe one of the teachers to get you something because Papa doesn't- Papa doesn't have the money."

Virgil looked like his rubber duck had just been melted and Patton almost teared up at the sight. He hated having to starve his own son because he couldn't get the money.

Virgil ran up and hugged Patton's skinny legs. "Is okay, Papa, 'm okay, Papa go job," he mumbled into the cloth of Patton's jeans. "I go play now." He ran off like a wolf into the night into the daycare, rushing to play with the fun trains. A complete switch.

Patton would have broke down then if it weren't for the fact he was on the clock.

He ran to the site he was supposed to be working on, just two or three miles away. When he got there, however, his manager stood with a tapping shoe and folded arms.

"Look who finally showed up!" she snarked, red luxerious lipstick painted bright to announciate every twisted syllable.

Patton's shoulders went sky high to hide his paler-than-average face. "I-I am so sorry, ma'am," he apologized. "I didn't mean to- my son, I had to drop him off to daycare, and he was being fussy, so-"

Patton didn't like to lie, but it was the only way for him to keep the job. If she found out it was because he woke up late? A big fat 'FIRED' notice would appear in his p.o. box.

The woman sighed. Her foot stopped tapping, but her arms stayed crossed. "Listen..." she started. "You seem to work hard and you've got a kid to take care of. I get it. Times like these in this stupid country can be tough."

Patton felt some hope glimmer in his chest. Perhaps just a warning?

"But that doesn't exclude the fact you've been late four times this month, fainted twice from exhaustion, and spread the cough to my workers last winter."

Patton's heart sank back to where it was before.

"That's why... I need to let you go. It's hard work and I cannot have tardiness and exhaustion running my construction equipment."

And that's when Patton's heart went all the way down to Hell.

"You're... I'm... I'm fired?" Patton gasped out, almost as if he couldn't believe it; or rather, didn't want to.

His manager nodded. "I'm so sorry, Patton, you seem like a fine worker. You're just not cut out for working early hours on tough plaster with a kid to take care of and a whole load of sleep problems."

Patton's hands felt numb but slimy. He was sweating but he couldn't even tell if it was hot. All he felt was cold; cold dread, cold guilt, cold everything.

"I-I'm sorry, maybe I could- maybe you could move me down to textile ordering management?" Patton tried not to let that determined little speck of hope reach too high in his voice; it still strained of heartbreak either way.

Her bright red lips frowned and her mascara-covered eyes closed. "I'm sorry, Patton, but those spots are all full. If you wanted to really work there, you could be the mission boy, but that's significantly lesser pay, and may conflict with the schedule you're on."

Patton sighed, his hope and heart finally settling in a dark chasm in his chest. "Thank you for at least concerning it, ma'am, I'll- I'll be on my way, now."

With a racking breath and wobbly knees, Patton turned away and walked back home. Once through the door, he sat on the small mattress Virgil used and began to sob.

"I can't feed my child, I lost my job, and bills are coming up! What the hell am I to do?" Patton yelled as he bawled into his hands.

Every part of him screamed and ached. He needed sleep, he needed rest, he needed something to eat, he needed his child to hold dear, he just needed; but he can never have what he wants, especially like the sad sack of debt and depression he was.

Patton couldn't exactly tell how long he had cried for, but the next time he looked up at the clock, it was eight am. He figured that the library was open, so he might as well head over there for a free read to calm down.

That, and free wifi and computer access.

Patton tried to make himself not look like the outside rendition of how he was feeling on the inside as he walked along the craggy sidewalks to the nearby city library. His attempts to cover up the way his hair sagged and his eyes pulsed didn't exactly prove fruitful as people walked by in sympathy or disgust. Their reactions only made Patton's heart clench more.

After he finished his three mile walk, he practically ghosted through the library doors; he looked as much, anyway, with his pale face and sunken eyes.

The librarian from across the room lowered his sunglasses, intrigued and a little suspicious.

The depression hit almost everyone, yes, but that didn't mean that hobos possibly addicted to meth were a person Remy was begging to listen to on a Monday morning in a damn library. Remy was not awake enough to tell the raggedy middle aged patron this wasn't the back alley to sneak some crack in before making his way back on the streets to ask for a job, so Remy just adjusted his sunglasses and resumed looking up sugar daddies on his phone.

Patton ignored the stares from the young librarian and instead went to the computer, taking out his library card and typing out the number and sending it in. After waiting for what seemed like hours, the internet finally decided to load the computer up and allow Patton to search for more loan applications and job openings.

However, he came up empty handed.

The jobs either weren't paying enough, required a higher degree than a high school diploma, or were simply too far away. The loans? They would cause more debt; Patton was better off without more false promises.

There was a website Patton was interested in, though, that he found while scrolling through the Google search "friend finding": GetAlong.

GetAlong, apparently, was a free penpal website people could use do the same as texting without having to pay for it. Except, there's a twist; the people you meet are strangers. They could be from across the country, across the planet, your next-door neighbor, anyone who signs up with the site is eligible for you to meet. You could message eachother, send pictures, videos, links, live feeds, and sticker-like emoji; all within the website.

The only consolation is for it to be anonymous. The only information you can put is your first name, your age, your gender, and maybe some things you're interested in. The rest is to fill in for yourself after you meet them.

The reason Patton was so interested is because he needed someone to talk to. Sure, he had Virgil to play with on bad days, and he had his coworker Roman from the crafts store he still worked at, but other than that? No family, no friends, and no help.

Perhaps this website could at least bring him some happiness.

So Patton, with a lot more time on his hands and feeling a lot more distraught than normal, signed up.

Patton Gentile, 32, trans-male. I like knitting, snuggling up in the winter, and taking care of my son. Hope to give you a happy hello soon!

Patton stared back at the words on the screwn with his fingers hovering over the keyboard, motionless.

Was this really all I needed to say? he thought. Did I need to say more, or less?

He decided to get it over with and hit send, leaving his mark on the world.

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

Taglist:

@amazable01 @vara-albion

#sanders sides #economical dystopian #Economic Crisis AU #patton sanders #hurt/comfort #angst #sanders sides fanart #roman sanders #ts roman #ts patton #sympathetic patton #virgil sanders #ts virgil #ch.1 #mobile #layton's writing #layton's art

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introvert-celeste · 6 years

Note

Hey, I am the anon that has been having a hard time. I'd message you privately but I think I want to talk this way so others can see if they are having a similar problem? I'll sign them like this🐘 I am a senior in high school and I have lost all motivation to do anything. I don't do my homework until the very last second, I don't study, I just sit on my bed and do nothing. And it's so much more than Senioritis, I know it is. Fuck there is a lot more going on than I can fit in an ask -🐘

I’’m even taking the SAT in like 2 days and I have studied maybe a total of an hour, and I’m not going to get the score I want, which means I will have to take it again, waste more money (and who knows if I’ll even study for that one, with the way things are going). I haven’t written college essays or started apps and I don’t seem to be in a hurry to do so. Everything that I say I’m going to do, I put off. I have yet to do a lot of the things I said I would do days, weeks, months ago -🐘

I am exhausted perpetually because I stay up late to do the work that I put off, which prompts me to get up late a lot. And my self-image issues prevent me from skipping my makeup routine in the morning, so I don’t have a lot of time in the morning to make/eat breakfast or make a good lunch, which has led to shitty eating habits. I don’t even like the way my makeup looks most of the time, but I’d die if I was caught without any on. -🐘

I haven’t told anyone any of this. I don’t talk to my friends about it because they have so much of their own stuff going on and I feel like I’d be burdening them more if I let all this out. My parents are another issue that’d take 20 of these to explain but briefly, I can’t talk to them about anything. I have thought about making an appointment to see my school counselor but that’s just another thing I’ve been putting off. She’s really busy with college stuff and I don’t want to bother her -🐘

I don’t feel prepared at all for college or anything after high school. I can’t cook, I can’t drive, I don’t have a job I don’t know anything about anything outside of my bubble and I am mortified. And it’s not like I put off learning any of that🙄My life has been a series of easy decisions and I’m not ready for the hard ones. I am so afraid of making a bad decision that I usually end up doing nothing but I am also afraid of missing an amazing opportunity so everything becomes more stressful.-🐘

Overall I feel like my life is very mediocre. There is nothing special about me. I don’t play an instrument I don’t play sports I am not extremely intelligent I don’t have anything that really sets me apart. And maybe this is why I have lost motivation; I don’t think I am worth it. All my life I dream of all these amazing things I could do, and I get to this point and I don’t see how I can make any of them happen, despite my deeply wanting to. -🐘

I am afraid that I am going to be the kind of person who everyone thinks will do great things, but ends up not fulfilling those expectations and disappointing everyone, including myself. I’m already disappointed thus far, why not in the future. It’s also very hard for me to express emotion. My friend compares me to Blue Diamond but I don’t know what the fuck she is thinking because I repress all my emotions. I have cried maybe twice this year, and one was me breaking down out of nowhere -🐘

I had a boyfriend (my first) for a few months, but that ended, and I carry a lot of guilt because looking back, I treated him terribly, and still kind of do. That weighs a lot on me sometimes but I try not to think about it. It was definitely necessary to break up, I don’t regret that, but he did not deserve the way I treated him. -🐘

Oof, that is quite a pickle you’ve got there. It sounds like you’re under a lot of stress, and I totally get that. I’m not great at giving advice, but I’m going to give it anyway.

As someone who puts a lot of importance on school and grades–that is my own personal struggle with self-image–it took me a long time to grasp that my mental health should be at the top of that to do list. Staying up late, waking up late, and poor eating habits aren’t going to pass your SAT, no matter how much other school work you have on your plate. I would say you need to work on your time management skills, but that’s the sort of bullshit you’ll hear no matter who you ask. It’s good advice and something that you should work on in life in general, but it isn’t realistic when its turned into a habit, especially in this crunch time. I’m currently in the first semester of my Junior year in college, working towards my B.A. in English, and I can’t express how hard it is to catch up.

Don’t worry about homework the night before your SAT; it’s far more important. I know it’s hard, but try to go to bed early. Don’t waste your time studying the night before, either, because you’re not going to retain it, certainly not when you’re sleep deprived. Treat yourself, decompress, drink lots of water, go to bed early, eat a good breakfast, and do your best! If you don’t pass, then know that it isn’t the end of the world. It’s just a test–granted, a pricey one–and you can take it again. It might be worth speaking to a counselor about getting a fee waiver (that’s what I did) going by your family’s income. Get a better start next time.

On the topic of counselors, THAT. IS. HER. JOB. She is there to help you to be a successful student and you are absolutely entitled to her help. You most likely won’t get an appointment with her before the SAT date, if she really is busy with college advising, but you absolutely need to go see her while it’s still early in the school year. You don’t feel prepared for college, THAT’S LITERALLY WHAT SHE’S DOING RIGHT NOW! Let her help you! Also, talk to your teachers, explain what’s going on, and ask if they can work with you a little bit! Maybe extend due dates by a day or two! It’s the fucking SATs, they’re more likely to understand than you may think.

Here’s another thing, anon, and I’m sure you’ve been told the opposite plenty of times before: you don’t have to go to college right away. I was in high school not that long ago (graduated in 2016) and I know what sort of pressure they put on students to continue their educations and make big impacts on society and yada yada yada. But you know what? It’s okay to take a break and go at your own pace. Work your way up to college, if that’s what you really want to do, and if you don’t, that’s fine, too. My first college was a two year community college that only required a high school diploma and passing scores on the SAT, ACT, or whatever, and its highest demographic is people in their 30s. Plus, the tuition is one of the cheapest in the state of Florida, and it has tons of resources and counselors to help with job searching and juggling school and life. If you’re set on going to college, I would highly recommend a local community college. There’s absolutely no shame in it. Of course, if you’re parents are planning on shooing you out the door to some distant college by next fall, then you definitely need to talk to them about what you want, once you’ve figured it out. Educate yourself and be firm.

I didn’t get my first job until January of this year, after I got my associates. Now, I’m doing college and school at the same time and let me tell you, it sucks, majorly. Heck, I’m in my second two years in college and I still live with my parents, can’t cook anything that doesn’t go in the microwave or on the stove (I’m scared of the oven :P), have a part-time dead end job that will never support me on my own, and next to no social life. I’m with you, I understand. Having to be an Adult™ fresh out of college was one of my greatest fears.

I can’t help you with the boyfriend thing, but I’m proud of you for owning up to your mistakes. This is the kind of stuff that helps you grow as a person and I hope your next relationship goes a lot more smoothly!

All in all, let me reiterate: YOUR MENTAL HEALTH IS MOST IMPORTANT! It’s practically impossible to function, let alone be successful, if you aren’t meeting your needs! As a teenager who’s still growing, it’s imperative to get enough food, water, and sleep! And as a person in general!

#asks #long post #advice #you are not alone and I'm so glad you came to talk to me #I hope at least one of these bits of advice helps you!

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abunchofbadchoices · 6 years

Text

Michael's Song

HSS Michael x MC (Jordan) in Midnight Sun AU

*Disclaimer: Most of the lines I got from the actual movie the Midnight Sun and all the rights belongs to the creators and writers. This is merely a converted fan fiction*

Part Two

"Maria Flores." The principal announced.

The audience erupted into cheers and applause, the principal shaking hands with the Student Council President/Valedictorian as he presents her diploma and Maria Flores bowed proudly to the crowd.

His name is to be called next on stage. Michael stepped forward, not knowing exactly what to feel and to be honest, he just wants this whole thing to be over and get the hell out of Cedar Cove.

He looks behind him and sees a timid blonde girl whose name he barely remember from the classes they shared. Emily Hawkins? Emma? Going farther, he caught some of his teammates' eyes from the line and they raised their fist.

"Go Tigers!" Caleb cheered. Michael smirks.

"Michael Reginald Harrison." Principal Hughs called from the stage.

A ruckus of cheers and hollers came from both the Varsity team and the cheerleading squad. Even some of his 'outcast' friends-- Morgan, Koh and Wes-- joined in on the noise.

"Yeah, Michael!" They yelled.

"Congratulations, Michael." The principal told him with her usual fond smile.

Michael shakes her hand and takes the ribboned diploma from her then raised it in the air, seeing both his parents sitting on the bleachers along with the other, proud smiles on their faces for once. Not the constant disappointment he sees from them all the time.

The graduation continued, unaware of another student, a certain girl named Jordan, has been watching the whole thing live on their local city news.

Jordan smiles on the screen. There he is. He must be famous, she thought, seeing as a lot of students cheered for his name.

▪️▪️▪️

Jordan wakes up around nine in the evening. Her room shrouded in darkness with only a glimpse of the light down the streets.

There is a noisy honking sound coming from the outside and she gets up quickly to check what it was. Down outside, the streets is littered with teenagers walking in groups, chatting excitedly among themselves as they passed.

"I can't believe this is happening!" The driver of an SUV yelled at the others, honking the car.

They must be the students that graduated earlier that day, just like her. Only the difference, they appear to be heading somewhere fun and exciting.

With a sigh, Jordan showered and gets dress before walking down the stairs. The house appears to be empty at first, then she goes down the hall and into a dark room where her father had been setting up a set of photographs.

"Ooh. That's a good one!" She said, watching her dad hung a grayscale stolen shot of herself to a cable.

"Something weird's going on right here." Scott pointed on a spot where her face is.

She punched his arm, pouting, then looks around the dark photography room. Since waking up, Jordan had an idea of going somewhere other than her room, but she wasn't sure her dad will be up for it considering he rarely let her go anywhere by herself.

"Hey, Dad, uh..." She bites her lip nervously. "I was wondering if I could go play with my new beautiful present at the train station tonight..." Earlier, her Dad gave her a present...the same guitar her mom used to play for her years ago.

Scott turns on the light, looking down his watch with a frown. "It's 10:00. Why can't Maria just come over? You could play here for us."

Jordan groans. "Maria's busy with her family. And, Dad, I love playing for you-- I really do, but I also need to get used to playing in front of other people. Please, please, please! Fred will be there. He'll watch out for me-- And I graduated today! Yay!" She wrings her hands in a faux festive way. "Isn't that the American tradition, to extend my curfew?"

Her father looks up the ceiling, trying hard not to grin. "Okay, I'll extend your curfew one hour--"

She squeals in delight, wrapping her father in a hug as she jumps up and down her feet.

"-- which means midnight, okay? Hey, and text me right when you get there, or I'm not just gonna call Fred, I'm gonna come down there. It will be so embarrassing it will become urban legend on why kids should stick to their curfew!"

"I love you!" Jordan shoots finger guns at her dad before disappearing out the door.

▪️▪️▪️

Michael managed to get himself his own bonfire.

The rest of the party has been in full swing at the distance, their classmates dancing, playing and laughing on different bonfires surrounding the beach.

He takes a swig of his beer. Michael had been watching Caleb, Julian and Wes having fun with Payton and the other girls from cheer squad.

To be honest, being here is as much fun as waiting for the graduation ceremony to end. Michael didn't want to be there, but unfortunately, he has a group of athletic friends who practically hauled him out of his house a couple hours ago.

"Dude, is this place--"

Michael shoots the guy a serious stare, then watch with a satisfied smirk as the guy rush as far away from him as he can.

He takes another swig.

From their bonfire, Michael noticed Wes heading his way. Julian and Caleb jostling behind him.

"Hey, don't do that thing." Wes pointed out when they reached his spot.

"What thing?" He sighs.

"That." Julian shrugged.

Wes pats his back. "I mean, you look all sad and it makes me sad."

The three guys chuckle, obviously had drunk too much already.

Julian offered him another can of beer. "Please, just chug this beer and come hang out!"

"Dude, you dodged a bullet, man." Caleb grins. He was probably talking about his failed application to Berkeley, where Michael had been hoping to go after high school and escape from this town. "You were gonna be up at the ass crack of dawn every morning, taking tests, nowhere near the beach. And now, we get to do this..." The guy gestures around them. "Our whole lives!"

Oh, for the love of God, please no. Michael says inside his head. He stands to face the others with sarcastic snorts. "I forgot, doing this our whole lives, it's way better than a full ride to Berkeley."

Julian turns to whisper conspiratorially. "Giselle, on three o'clock."

As expected, the girl indeed went to join them, her gold hoop earrings swing on the side of her face. Giselle gave her a dazzling smile. "Michael..." She says his name in a sing-song way. "You're in trouble."

"What did I do this time?" He played along.

"You didn't get me a drink."

"I didn't know you were thirsty."

"Now you do!" Giselle suddenly pushed him on the left shoulder, making him wince, and her mouth dropped open in surprised at what she did. "I'm sorry!"

"It's okay." Michael grumbled.

"Is that the bad one?" The girl lifts the sleeves of his black shirt, revealing the long jagged scar on his shoulder. "Well, now that you're not playing, maybe you'll have a little extra time for me."

Ah, there it is.

Michael and Giselle grew up close in the small town of Cedar Cove, since Kindergarten actually. For a long time, they were best of friends. Going all over town, recording epic videos together. That was them.

Yeah, typical high school story... The jock and the cheerleading captain getting cozy all the time. But at some point, Michael got tired of everything. He started missing out on parties, spending lunch breks away from everyone. The injury was only the last straw.

"I also have some extra time for you." Wes quipped. "And I'm not playing ball."

Caleb nudged him on the ribs. "You were never playing ball, dude."

"Giselle! Get over here, bitch!" Her friends called out.

"Hold on!" Giselle touchs Michael's arm, her voice turns soft. "You're coming to my graduation party, right?"

Michael nods his head, reluctantly. "Yeah, I think so."

"Good."

And with that, the cheerleader walks away, her hips swinging along with the music.

The guys watch her before turning back to him, goofy smiles on their dumb faces.

He reached down on the bench, picking up his dark-green bomber jacket and puts it on quickly.

"What...what are you doing?" Caleb asked, confused.

"Dodging another bullet."

Wes stepped forward, alarmed. "Come on, Dude! It's our graduation night."

Michael backs away from them, arms up. "I'm not feeling it, boys. I'll see you later."

▪️▪️▪️

The knock she did on the glass window made the man look up from his desk.

"Hey, yo, Fred." Jordan greets.

The middle-aged train station officer smiles in delight at the sight of her. "I was wondering if you were gonna show up tonight."

"What, and disappoint all my fans?" She asked, pointing on the empty lot surrounding the ticket booth.

The man let out a hearty laugh, then she waves over and walked to the small bench on the corner where she always sits to play.

Jordan pulled out the guitar from the case then sets her journal on the space beside her. She knows exactly what to play, and it had been the only song she wanted to play first on her new guitar.

She played a few warm-up notes first, then smoothly gliding her fingers through the strings as the first few notes of the songs plays out. It was a song she had been writing lately.

"While you're fast asleep, counting your sheep,

I'm breathing...

I'll be up all night, playing through this twilight dream

Cause all my life I have been patiently waiting,

For lights to dim to fulfill my destiny...

I'll keep reachin'... As far as I can till break of day

I'll keep reaching..."

Jordan didn't even noticed but the last trip for the night just stopped in front of her and passengers steps off one by one.

"The light of my life will find its way

I know if I reach too far I may not ever recover..."

People passed her by, dropping coins and bills on the open guitar case, but the smiles on their faces was enough for Jordan to keep the music on.

"But I know the stars, Ain't all I'm meant to discover,

So I'll keep reaching..."

It was a rather chilly night. Michael shoves his hands into the pocket of his jacket and strolls briskly down the streets, passing by the train station which is still open for the late night commuters. He was almost around the corner when he sees it. A girl. She was sitting in front of the ticket booth as she plays guitar, the movement of her mouth indicates singing but from the distance, he couldn't hear what she was singing.

To be continued...

▪️▪️▪️

Note: the song title is Reaching by Bella Thorne.

#playchoices #choices #hss #hss book 1 #hss book 2 #hss book 3 #maria flores #michael harrison #michael x mc #caleb mitchell #wes porter #julian castillo #giselle

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itsbenedict · 3 years

Text

Two-Faced Jewel: Session 6.5

A half-elf conwoman (and the moth tasked with keeping her out of trouble) travel the Jewel in search of, uh, whatever a fashionable accessory is pointing them at. [Campaign log]

Last time, Looseleaf and Saelhen fought their way to the top of the evil torture tower of the evil torture wizard- only to find out that the guy's been dead for at least a year, and that a dragon has apparently been squatting in his tower. Not content to wait another week to find out what this means, we had an off-schedule mini-session wherein the party finished exploring the unexplored nooks and crannies of Lumiere's Tower.

The first thing to deal with is the thing blocking their return down the stairs- there's a weird big metal coffin-looking dealie that waddled up to the stairs on the fourth floor, but couldn't chase them any further. Going back down, though... they could take a window, but they figure there's no way this thing could be a serious threat. It can barely move, after all- they can probably just push it right over!

Looseleaf pokes it with a stick, and its front splits open down the middle, revealing a giant maw of horrible spikes which snaps at her threateningly.

So it's an iron maiden! Adorable! Still doesn't have legs, or arms, so it's fine, right? They can just stand on the stairs and

whoops nope it's got animated canvas straps inside it that shoot out and ensnare orluthe like a chameleon tongue. okay. so maybe this monster is dangerous actually.

The ensuing fight makes heavy use of a mechanic in D&D called "called shots", where you can take disadvantage on an attack roll in exchange for inflicting some kind of injury on the opponent by hitting them in different specific body parts. They don't want to let Orluthe get shut inside and take a fuckload of stab damage, so they jam Looseleaf's quarterstaff in the doors, slice up its canvas straps, and by force of numbers manage to render nearly all its appendages impotent. The poor torture instrument has disadvantage on all its attack rolls after the called shots go through, and it can't land any more hits! The party eventually wears it down, and Looseleaf lands the finishing blow by scrambling its spirit.

All that's left in their way is the translucent red barrier blocking off the 3rd/4th floor stairs. Not finding anything on the fourth floor to shut it off, they just go via the window like before. Back down on the third floor, Looseleaf uses her spirit sight to notice that the barrier is connected magically to some runes inscribed on the central pillar- it looks like there's some sort of creepy puzzle involving stabbing creepy dolls with creepy doll-sized knives.

Not interested in risking whatever the consequences of solving the puzzle wrong are (given that they already have a way up and down), they move on.

While they're there, Saelhen decides to take another crack at the trapped chest she couldn't open earlier. Rather than risk the trap, she first spends some time expertly disarming the trap built into the lock, before working on the lock itself. A couple good rolls later, and they acquire the treasure! Which is... 60 gold pieces, and a piece of paper with a list of words.

Saelhen fails her Nature check, but Looseleaf recognizes the words on the paper as... the names of craters and other geographical features of the moon.

[WAR_FLASHBACKS.jpg]

No one's quite sure why a list of moon landmarks would be locked up in a highly-secure chest protected by a poison needle trap, but no one rolls high enough on Religion to puzzle it out.

Moving on down, they reach the second floor, which appears to be a laundry room of some sort. The sort where the irons and ironing boards and scrub brushes are alive, and appear to be washing the same clothes over and over and over to the point where most of them have been reduced to sparklingly clean rags. Seems like these animated household objects have been stuck on a loop for a good long time!

There's what appears to be an intact magical cloak hanging on a clothesline in there, but the party opts not to try and take it- doing so would likely provoke some protective laundry automatons.

Saelhen's plan to lure the scrub brush away from the washtub (for... reasons??) fails, since the brush doesn't seem to want to leave the tub- and it's visibly disappointed when Saelhen gives up.

So, they head down to the first floor, finally! As they head down, they're noticed by more animated knives... but it seems these ones have been tasked with cooking a delicious meal, which they happily serve up to the tower's guests! The wheelbarrow from before is there, too, supplying the kitchen with food. The only question is... who's been eating this stuff? Why is the table not covered in rotten, uneaten banquet, if the wizard's been dead? Who's been putting grocery money in the wheelbarrow?

Other things of note in the room...

Benedict I. (GM): The shelves around the center seem to be festooned with various trophies and awards. Looseleaf: trophies. what, like, participation trophies??? school trophies? piano recital trophies?? Benedict I. (GM): These would actually be somewhat recognizable to most of you- you've seen similar things in trophy cases at school. The plaques beneath them seem blacked out in various places- a lot of [REDACTED]. Looseleaf: warball champions of the 1034 school year? Benedict I. (GM): Often built into the plaques. Saelhen du Fishercrown: huh who redacts a plaque Benedict I. (GM): Like, there'll be a flat section of the plaque painted black like it was engraved that way

Looseleaf, with a 20, Investigates a bunch of pertinent information. For instance, a diploma:

Hal Lumiere, PhD in [______]. Blacksky University, Department of Restricted Arts

It appears Hal Lumiere was an alumnus of Blacksky's School of Restricted Arts- the same place Vayen is from. Lumiere was apparently something of a darling there, considering all the awards- but no one in the party has ever heard of him. Except maybe a certain someone who's not telling.

Looseleaf also finds some unopened mail! One is illegible, written in Abyssal, the language of demons.

(Lore note on demons: demons are just like other monsters- evil things that come up from below the mountains and cause trouble. They aren't generally aware of their origins beyond waking up in a deep cave, usually, and aren't motivated by much except causing conflict and hurting people.)

Another letter is written in Common, with just plain awful handwriting:

"hey Lumes why tf arent you home today u fuckin flake ass fairyboy. who am i supposed to get that dank good ouch from if youre off on magic adfentures. this months number shits are: 14.3 6755 304° and then the little bar thing was on the green side but wobbly. now gimmeeeeeee"

It's a bit of an enigma- but even more enigmatic is the third letter Looseleaf finds, written in a hand Looseleaf recognizes. Looseleaf knows who this letter was written by.

"Dr. Lumiere- find enclosed the new spirit hollowing diagrams and the corrected sigil of Aaaaaaagh. This should satisfy our agreement, so I'll leave you with a warning: the lesser gods are not to be trusted." "Yes, their revolution is our best shot at the Project- that much is obvious, barring a road to apotheosis. I understand we need to work with them. I doubt we'll have further contact, so I won't ask you not to reignite this argument- but insofar as it's at all relevant to you in the future, I favor your approach over Kron Green's." "But again, they are not to be trusted. The enemy of our enemy wishes mainly to supplant them, and despite their alliance, not all of them share the same aims. In particular, the one you've taken an interest in seems utterly hostile to the Project. " "If we are to impact the cosmic boardstate, we must play the game. Trust is the abdication of discovery. Choose your allies carefully." And then it is signed with a mark. The mark is of a book, facedown in the way that ruins the spine, sort of shaped to look like a skull. And the initials "Y.T." Looseleaf: youtube. the villain of our story, youtube. Saelhen du Fishercrown: trust is the abdication of discovery, what a goddamn motto Looseleaf: oh my god she's being so edgy well, that is characteristic of her.

She also finds what appears to be a trophy- but the trophy is shaped to look like a globe. Not of the Jewel, but of the moon. Obviously, they take it.

youtube

Some experimentation with the moon trophy seems to indicate that the locations marked on the paper from the chest draw out a sort of connect-the-dots pattern, which might be used elsewhere for some purpose. Whatever the pattern is meant to be used for, there's no indication of it here. All that can reasonably be inferred is that it has some connection to the School of Restricted Arts.

Meanwhile, the bookshelves have a few more things of interest. Amidst textbooks on neurology, magic, and speculative religion on a lower shelf, they find a hand-bound book that seems out-of-place.

Benedict I. (GM): Inside, it appears to be a diary. "i m choss n ths iss MY BOOK," it begins.

It appears to span several years of diary entries, from year 259 to 266- ending seven years before the current date, 273. The handwriting gets progressively less atrocious, and the entries are very sporadic- riddled with apologies to the diary for forgetting to write in it.

Benedict I. (GM): Choss, apparently, is a little girl who grew up in this tower. Initially she was very fond of her dad, the owner of the tower. Looseleaf: initially, huh. that's... a... great sign. Benedict I. (GM): Dad is a cool wizard who does fun magic all the time, which she helps with! She is very proud of how much pain she can withstand, and she's developed this sort of self-image as a connoisseur. Of pain. Saelhen du Fishercrown: hell Saelhen's face is getting progressively... stiffer, as she reads. Not angrier, per se, just... flatter. Benedict I. (GM): She helps out with the experiments except for not being allowed to take the hoods off the subjects in the lab. Looseleaf: Lumiere what the shit. Benedict I. (GM): And when there's no subjects, she fills in, and does a very good job, the best job. There's an entry describing how she designed a security system for her dad- she made some dolls and dad enchanted them so they open the door if you stab them right! She's very proud of it. You now know the order of stabs to disable the barrier. Anyway, the later entries seem to represent... entirely standard teen angst. Looseleaf: Hmm. Benedict I. (GM): Dad is being boring and not letting her do the experiments she wants to do and not letting her visit the towns and ugh dad. She gets fed up with him, and the last entry is about how she's leaving to go start her own life in Wheat. Looseleaf: REALLY NOW. Saelhen du Fishercrown: WELL. Looseleaf: ...god, maybe those rumors about wheat being full of insane murderous murder-os weren't, wrong. Saelhen du Fishercrown: if she is in fact a baby dragon Looseleaf: which is not at all guaranteed, by the way.

If you recall from a few sessions back:

To speak with a dragon is to be condemned to some sort of great misfortune, brought about by your own hand. You know the Simurgh from Worm? Listen to its song for too long, and you become sort of a sleeper agent of self-destructive carnage? It’s like a diet version of that. Whatever path your conversation with the dragon puts you on, it’s invariably bad for you, somehow. The metallic dragons, who’re ostensibly “good”, will still ruin your life in some way just by talking to you, even if your immolation does some good for the world on the way out. Nobody wants to talk to a dragon.

Also discovered in CHOSS BOOK is a brief account of a time she had to go to the basement, using the secret entrance underneath... something. Looseleaf almost immediately checks under the table they're sitting at, and finds... yep! A trapdoor leading to the basement!

Next time: the basement awaits!

#tfj log #twofaced jewel #Youtube

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