Aforementioned long ask post please excuse me while i try to figure out tumblr's new text editor. I’ll get into the art meme questions first and then the rest at the end.

Ok first of all thank you all for sending in questions! Giving me an excuse to talk hehe. I’ll address these in number order. Here’s a link to the ask meme for reference but also I’ll restate the question for ease of reading.

1. When did you get into art?

Super cliche answer but I don’t remember a time where I WASN’T the weird art kid! I started keeping a dedicated sketchbook when I was about 12? But here’s a page from my kindergarten journal about what I want to be when I grow up.

2. What art-related sites have you ever signed up for? 

LOL this is a weird question. Not sure why so many people want to know. Anyways I definitely had a dA. more than one dA account. I used to browse oekakis when I was a kid but I think I was only signed up to some small ones that internet friends owned. What else...? Mangabullet,Tegakie, Paintberri, iscribble back when that was a thing, instagram if that COUNTs, I used to post art on livejournal and dreamwidth too. Patreon, I guess. Gumroad, inprnt, bigcartel, storenvy all for selling stuff.

In terms of resources.. I have a schoolism account that I’m sharing with friends. Used to take classes on coursera for free. I signed up to textures.com for work recently haha. I can’t remember if I ever had an account on posemaniacs. Did they have accounts...? I definitely used to visit all the time.

3. Show us your oldest piece of art you have on hand.

Alright here’s me actually logging into my old deviantart account. These are from September 2008 So I was 13 years old. I don’t have a deviantart account from before then because 13 was the required age for having an account and I didn’t want to lie about my age because I wanted people to be impressed by how young yet clearly incredible at art I was LOL.

4. What defines your artistic style?

You guys are probably more equipped to answer this than me but uh... I wanna say... Focus on colors. And... a slightly heavy hand? Like confident... not always well-considered mark making HAH...

Also I think I have a pretty healthy mix of american comics/manga influences. I feel like people who are into american comics always think my art is too manga and people who are into anime/manga always think my art is too american. And I’m taking that as a good sign.

5. Do you practice other styles/have you tried other styles in the past?

I like to think I switch it up a bunch! I mean, these are pretty different, right?

I think I’ve mentioned this before but one thing I really took away from art school is that, for an illustrator at least, art style shouldn’t be consistent. Your greatest weapon is changing the aspects of your style based on the task, the emotions and message you want to illustrate etc. So depending on the project I’m working on, the fandom I’m drawing for, whether I want something to be funny or serious or dramatic, I’ll change things about my style all the time.

One thing I don’t rly post on here is really tight polished work and that’s because I do that for my day job haha. If you’re not paying me... I’m probably not gonna color in the lines.

6. What levels of artistic education have you had?

I have a whole ass diploma LOL. Bachelor of Fine Arts in Illustration. from the Rhode Island School of Design. And I had a great college experience tbh. Besides the student loans. If any of you guys are thinking about art school feel free to e-mail or message me questions or concerns, I’ll be happy to help. Be as honest as I can be.

7. Show us at least one picture you drew or sketched recently that you did not put on a public site.

heres the wandavision kids. Uhh what else do I have...I feel like I’m rummaging for loose change here...

assorted valentines prep doodles

8. What is your favourite piece that you have done?

Well, obviously this is gonna change all the time and generally it’s gonna be my most recent piece LOL. So yeah, why the hell not. I’ll say it’s this one. I have a pretty short memory which I count as a blessing for an artist. I don’t dwell that long on older work and it keeps me moving forward.

10. What do you like most about your art?

I like that it’s something that only I would make! I had this thought fairly recently and I wrote it down in my sketchbook, it’s pretty cheesy and rambling but it felt revolutionary at the time:

So yeah. I like my art best when it’s the most me and for me. And I like it least when it feels like I’m just making something for social media or for other people’s expectations or whatever.

14. What do you like drawing the most?

Kids in baggy clothing are like my go-to LOL idk if that’s obvious. but also I like being challenged so lately I’ve really loved drawing multi-character compositions, environments, weird angles, etc.

oh i LOVE drawing the underside of shoes lol. And bandages. People that are kinda beat up.. I think it comes from getting a bunch of cuts all the time. I’m always patching myself up and I want to patch characters up too.

15. What do you like drawing the least?

mmm I try to find something to like in every drawing but lets see... I don’t like doing commissions of people’s dogs. Just because it’s normally like... a family friend and my mom volunteered me without my consent and I don’t even really know what they’re expecting me to draw and I don’t even get to meet the dog. Also I’m not that great at dog anatomy. Trying to learn though.

18. What is your purpose for drawing?

This could have a million answers! Uhhh to GIT GOOD??? But also to express myself... and also to make money... I mean it depends on what the drawing IS. I draw fanart mostly to connect to people in the fandom so if you ever see me drawing fanart please take it as like an open invitation to talk to me about the character haha. 

20. How would you rank your art? (poor, mediocre, good, etc.)

Good!!! I have a lot of self-confidence primarily born out of ignorance and a short attention span. If I don’t think too hard about how many other artists are mindblowingly unfathombly good... its easy to think I’m good too! LOL

In all seriousness though, I think the opinion a person has of their art is like a crazy balancing act, right? Like you have to think you suck enough to want to get better but also you have to think you’re good enough to not want to give up. I think we’re all walking that line, I know I am! But also I’m a glass half-full type of person so. Most of the time I feel good about it.

22. List at least one of your “artspirations.”

This is a good question because I’ve been trying and failing to put together one of those “influence map” memes for like a full month now. What’s giving me a hard time is I feel like none of these are actually really obvious “““influences”““ in my art? Like it’s hard to see a lot of them in the work I make...? But idk maybe you guys’ll see what I can’t.

And these are just a couple! God there’s so many more. I could talk about other artists for ages, from all different genres of art. Daumier, Rockwell like every illustrator out there, Dana Gibson, Alex Toth, Hiroshi Yoshida, a lot of the Brandywine School. Lots of current working artists too, Karl Kerschl, frikkin Masashi Kishimoto lol, Jake Wyatt, Richie Pope, Edouard Caplain, Matt Cook, Sachin Teng, - lots of big internet artists, Sophie Li, Freddy Carrasco, Milliofish, Angela Sung... like all my friends from art school too. I could just keep going but I’ll stop for now lol.

24. Do you have a shameful art past? (recolour sprite comics, tracing art, etc.)

I mean if that’s how we’re defining shameful?? sure LOL. It’s not sprite comics but I used to do pokemon sprite recolors all the time. And I used to trace manga panels and color them... Granted this was all when I was like under 12 yrs old so it’s not even embarrassing. Can you really call it shameful when a 7 year old wets the bed or whatever? Not really. In fact some of these are cool as fuck. Look

25. Draw a picture!

Man I’m so tired now but here.

I used to get a lot of compliments for drawing people smiling lol but I don’t think I’ve drawn a lot of smiling lately.. here’s proof I’ve still got it.

OK MEME DONE. onto the rest.

I read this ask first thing when i opened my computer in the morning and it made me really emotional.. I’m so glad my sketches could help you!!

I think a lot of artists on social media talk about the struggle of making art but imo not enough people talk about the joy! Like I know it’s corny but. I really meant what I said at the beginning of that sketchbook about re-contextualizing art around process and progress > product and perfection. I think its super important..! The strength of messy, unfinished, and energetic art! For the feeling of it, for the love it!

That's crazy!!! I hope you like 'em. The whole line of x-books is really good rn imo.

Hi! I totally have the answer for digital stuff on my faq lol. But in terms of drawing on paper.. it varies! I tend to use sketchbooking and any on-paper doodling I do as a way to loosen up/warm-up or experiment. But right now my go-to aresenal is:

from top > bottom

- kuretake no.55 doublesided brush pen

- tombow fudenosuke

- muji 0.38 ballpoint

- medium size poscas

- grey tombow double brush pens

- good ol bic mechanical pencil

not EXACTly sure which inking you referring to from my sketchbook but if I had to take a guess it'd probably be the kuretake no55. That's been my main inker, lately. Great for sketching with the thin end too.

You can print out and eat my art if you like. Just please don't mass produce or re-sell. <3

Thanks! I've come to accept that my art is always gonna be sort of gestural and painty naturally. It's getting it to tighten up enough to be legible that's hard lol...

uh yeah lol I agree actually. I think yolei is great.

I assume these asks are related? LOL

1) Yeah totally true. I love David.

2) I don’t take requests, sorry! But if you want to commission me to draw Legion i would be MORE than happy to. Just e-mail me at [email protected].

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Of Muffins, Coffee and Other Miracles - Pt.2

Of Coffee, Brownies and-- Frack

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader        Word count: 2210

Type: Two-shot, reader insert

Warnings: swearing, tons of fluff and cheeky/cute Daredevil/Matt

Summary: You’re a secretary at Landman and Zack, having an office on the same floor as the interns. You notice one of them (which you might and might not have a crush on) seems down lately, so you decide to cheer him up the only way you can come up with. You bake muffins; right after your life is saved by a cheeky vigilante.  

Part 1

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“Wild night out?” a male voice made you snap from your dozing and you straightened in your chair with a startle.

Oh shit. Oh fuck, you were so fired.

You look up to the man who addressed you, relieved it was only Foggy – one of the interns. He wouldn’t report you, right?

“Uhm… not sure I would call it wild, but… strange for sure.” Not every night you get to be kissed by a vigilante, even if only on your temple.

“It wasn’t drugs, right? Because drugs are bad,” he whispered, looking around for anyone who could hear. You smiled at him tiredly.

“I know. Not… that kind of strange. What can I do for you… Foggy, right?”

“Yes!” he confirmed cheerfully, until his smile fell. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we were introduced. You’re…” he eyed the name on your desk, repeating it dutifully.

“That’s me,” you confirmed with a nod. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh! Right. My friend, Matt, he’s interning with me here, I’m sure you saw him around. He’s… well, blind.” Oh, I did see him around. “Usually, he gets the copies of the files in braille, but today… whoever is the good soul doing it for him forgot or something and… I have no idea where to find a braille printer here and you seem to know your way around…? And you also look like you’re not gonna fire me for asking.”

You found yourself smiling in the presence of the cheerful man. “Only if you promise not to tell anyone that I was basically sleeping.”

“Deal.”

“Thanks. You have the file? I can print it. Honestly, anyone who knows where to find that printer or how to use it wouldn’t have the authority to fire you. Just send it to me and I’ll drop it in your… your…” you stuttered, unsure how to finish that sentence.

“You can say it. It’s a closet.”

“It is, isn’t it? But which one?” you played dumb, because… reasons. You shouldn’t have known where they were, you didn’t need it. Why would you? Yeah, I’m sooo subtle…

“Oh, the one down the hall.”

“Okay. Just e-mail me the file number and I’ll deliver.”

“Really? You’re amazing.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you laughed nervously. Amazing. You didn’t think – scratch that, you were sure your boss never called you that, and you were saving his life on daily basis; he wouldn’t even sign a paper unless you handed him the pen.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong…” Foggy pronounced, pointing at you. Then he seemed to realize something. “You said not many people know where to find that printer?”

You shrugged. “Not really, I guess. It’s on the fourth floor, but it’s next to impossible to go there unnoticed by people guarding printers and they are bitch to talk to, so if you ever need anything just tell me, I’ll do it for you. I’m sure your life is enough depressing in that… cubicle.”

“Hm… okay, thanks a lot!” He spun on his heels, walking out.

Weird.

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Dropping off the files in the right closet, you were confronted with…  your crush. You might have not realized it before, but… yeah. You were confronted by Matt Murdock himself and you were suddenly very sure you had a crush on this man. Crap.

The thing was… he was his typical self, which meant… really charming. He stood up from his desk when thanking you, learning your name, shaking your hand. He gave you one of the nicest smile you had ever seen, his grip firm, but gentle; you just stuttered when saying ‘nice to meet you’, stumbling out as quickly as possible, shaking your head over your own inability to communicate like a normal person.

One thing you noticed about Matt that day though was that he had a rather angrily looking gash next to his right eyebrow – whether he ran into a door or something else happened, you didn’t know. But you were glad you had baked the previous night, secretly leaving your backup lunch to ease the blind’s man pain.

You were stuck hungry because of that; you couldn’t make yourself regret it.

You were a hopeless case.

And a liar on top of that, because you had said it wasn’t ‘like that’ just few nights before. Perfect.

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It was raining that night, so you didn’t leave a snack for the vigilante who apparently kissed crime victim’s temples. Maybe the next night.

Or never, because he would avoid you forever, realizing that you were as far from his Lois Lane as you could be. Which was probably a good thing.

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You looked up from the screen at the sound of someone knocking. It was unusual – the door was always open, so people normally just waltzed in.

Matt freaking Murdock was standing in that open door, holding his walking cane and a cup holder in one hand, his other hand on the glassy door. You blinked in surprise at the sight. And god, he was such a sight for your sore eyes…

“Anyone in?” he asked carefully and you fought the urge to face-palm. He couldn’t see you watching him – which might be a good thing, considering you were shamelessly staring.

“Yes! Hi, Matt. What can I do for you? Someone forgot to print case files again?” you wondered when you gathered yourself.

He smiled, turning your direction, walking towards your desk.

“Uhm, no. No, I came to… say thank you.”

Did you hit your head in the shower this morning?

“Uhm. You’re welcome, it really wasn’t a big deal.“ You mentally praised yourself for so many coherent sentences. His smile only grew wider.

“Here. Uhm, I was told you were a bit tired yesterday, so I figured you might appreciate a coffee. One’s black with sugar, which should have ‘B’ on the cup, and the other one is vanilla latté with ‘V’. I had no idea which you might like.” He held out the holder for you to choose.

You had definitely hit your head. What the hell? Or rather… what the heaven?

“I… you really didn’t have to do that, Matt. That’s… thank you, but… it was just a file. Anyone would do that.”

You found the V cup, taking it hesitantly as if it could explode in your hand.

“Well, for one, that’s not true, especially here, and… it’s not just for the file,” he offered with a cute smile.

It wasn’t the smile that sent your heart racing. Well, it was, but also the thing he was implying— did he somehow figure out you were his… secret muffin-maker? Well, shit.

“I’m not sure-“

“People by the printers on the fourth floor are next to impossible to sneak by – that’s your words, not mine. Next to impossible, but not completely. That suggests you know how to do it. I imagine the bosses wouldn’t be happy finding out you’re using the printer to write notes for miserable blind interns, so sneaking under radar it is.”

You pressed your lips together, squeezing your eyes shut, cursing mentally. And out loud. “Frack.”  

“So, you know. Thank you. The muffins were delicious. They did make my day much better,” Matt assured you and an unfairly warm feeling spread in your chest. Maybe it wasn’t such a disaster he found out.

“There’s no way I’m finding a way to prove you wrong, is there?” you sighed. “You should reconsider your career choices, you would make a great detective. Glad it worked. I know that muffins can’t fix all the problems of the world, but occasionally, they can save the mood.”

“Not wrong there. I... uhm… the coffee is the best thank you I’m capable of. I hope my debt is paid.”

Well. That made more sense. “You didn’t have to-“

“That came out wrong. I wanted to say thank you, to erase a potential debt, because I was…”

You tilted your head to side, waiting what brilliant end that sentence would have. For once you weren’t the one who apparently didn’t know what to say.

“I was wondering if you would want to go for a coffee sometime? Or a dinner, maybe? Not as a thank you.”

Throw the incapability to speak up back on me, why don’t you. You blinked in utter shock, your knees buckling a little. Come again? “Not… not as thank you. You’re… you’re sure of that?”

“Hundred percent positive.”

You were certain you heard wrong. Which was easily possible given how loud your pulse was in your ears.

“Oh. Uhm… yeah. Okay. Sure. Just… just to be clear, since it’s not a thank you-“

“It’s a date. If you want it to be,” he added quickly, his confidence slightly shaken.

“If I want it to be…” you muttered under your breath incredulously. “Is the sky blue?”

“You tell me, it’s been a while since I’ve seen it last time,” he replied, grinning. He was so not supposed to hear that. Dammit.

“Oh my—… yeah, last time I checked it was still blue.”

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.” He shoved his hand into his pocket, pulling out a phone, holding in out for you. “Would you enter your number in it, please? First name’s enough. I’ll call you.”

You finally set your cup down and took the phone from his hand, still not quite believing this was happening. Your fingers brushed his lightly when doing so, nearly sending you into a cardiac arrest. Jesus.

“Sure. You don’t have a distaste for black coffee right? Because I can totally switch the cups, I haven’t even sipped mine yet,” you mumbled as you were entering your number.

He laughed. “I like black coffee.”

“Noted. And number saved.”

You returned the phone to his extended hand. “Thanks. Dinner or coffee? I would offer a lunch, but the muffins appeared during lunch-breaks, which suggests you’re not leaving the office.”

“Detective, seriously. Dinner?” you asked, unsure.

“Dinner it is.”

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Dinner it was. And an amazing one. Matt picked the restaurant wisely – nice, but not too expensive, because neither of you were exactly rich (not that it mattered, because Matt was a gentleman who wouldn’t let the woman pay for the food, definitely not on the first date) and that way you could have a dessert without remorse; financial one anyway.

Matt saying that your muffins were better after eating a chocolate brownie was just the icing on the cake of how… sweet he was. He was even more wonderful than you had thought, but despite becoming a lawyer and working between the sharks, he was a down-to-earth person. Not playing any… leagues. And you had fun. His sense of humour was refreshing and he was apparently more than capable of smiling and laughing as cheerfully as his friend. He was a freaking sunshine and you found yourself drawn to the warmth and light like to a magnet.

He walked you home, looking almost disappointed that the night was ending, which was a sentiment you shared wholeheartedly.

“If I wasn’t so full, I would invite you upstairs. I have muffins,” you whispered as his hand travelled up your arm, wavering in the crook of your neck and he leaned closer to you.

The corners of his lips rose a little higher at your note and you were honestly regretting he was still wearing his dark red-tinged glasses. You would like to see his eyes to complete the picture.

“Well, I would say I’m sorry, but I’m actually glad. I… I really enjoyed tonight. I wouldn’t want to screw up.”

You could tell he hesitated, his thumb caressing your neck in silent question. You leaned in as well. ”I can’t really imagine you screwing it up, Matt, no matter what you would do. Unless you‘d wake me up now.”

“Is that a permission?” he breathed out an inch from your lips.

“It’s a plea.”

He met your lips softly, retreating too soon.

“Please, don’t wake me up,” you mumbled, not sure you wanted him to hear it.

“This is a goodnight kiss,” he reassured you lowly, kissing you again, caressing your lower lip and making your knees unfairly weak. “We’ll work our way up to a good morning one. If you’d like.”

You brought your hand to the back of his neck, keeping him close just in case he was getting any ideas and you returned the kiss, nibbling on his lips just a little. He let out a content sigh, his fingers tangling in your hair, his body shifting closer to yours.

“Probably sooner than later,” he mumbled against your mouth, making you smile and hum in agreement. You added ‘excellent kisser’ to the mental list you were making about him. Hot. Sweet. Gentle. Funny. Smart. Ray of sunshine. Gorgeous smile. Likes black coffee and my muffins. Never should stop kissing me.

He met your lips for the last time, withdrawing with a smile, his thumb running over your jaw.

“Goodnight,” you whispered, licking your lips to savour the taste of his own.

He pecked your temple lightly, wishing you the same.

‘Familiar,’ you added to your mental list and your heart, fluttering until the moment, started hammering in your chest wildly. Familiar voice, familiar smile, familiar gestures-

No, no, no, no, no. That was ridiculous. You were projecting again, you were-

“Clark?” you chocked out, perfectly aware of how stupid it was, expecting Matt to shoot you a puzzled look and ask you about your possible ex or something.

Except Matt did no such thing. Instead, he froze and said just one word that meant you were somehow, in some impossible way, right.

“Frack.”

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Matt Murdock Masterlist

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It’s silly and I’m grinning when writing it and posting it and I’m most definitely sure that this cliff-hanger is the end and it’s all up to you to wonder what happened next ;)

Thank you for reading :-*

So I just finished Love, Creekwood

Some spoiler-filled thoughts under the cut!

tl;dr 4/5, it was super cute but I was confused about some things and didn’t think everything worked

Overall, I liked it. It was cute as fuck, and it was nice getting to see the squad again. I have some good to say about it, some bad, and then just some...questions. Let’s start with the good:

Becky’s writing style is as cute and as charming as ever. There were multiple parts of the book that had me laughing out loud, even if maybe not as strongly as I did while reading Simon, Leah, and watching Love Simon and Victor. Drunk Simon makes a reappearance, and it is everything. EVERYTHING. I love that boy so much and he only gets more adorable when he drinks lol.

I love the whole theming of “save states” and wanting to keep moments forever and go back to them, and the idea of holding onto the past. That’s a really unique way of tackling an interesting topic, and I love it quite a bit.

And this isn’t really a bad thing, sort of just an observation, but when Plot Things started happening, it really shocked me, because I forgot that books are supposed to have a plot lmfao. Maybe it is a bit of a criticism, but the reason that surprised me so much is because up until conflict started arising, it really was feeling just like supplemental material, just some cute fluff, the kind of stuff I would go on ao3 to read fanfic about. That’s not necessarily a bad thing--it is very cute and very fluffy and very fun to read--but books do need conflict, even short 100-page novellas told entirely through e-mails.

That being said, the conflict is definitely an interesting one. Long-distance relationship stories are nothing new, of course, but this kind of conflict was teased at the end of Leah on the Offbeat, and I think it’s handled mostly well, narratively. I especially like the contrast between Simon and Bram’s relationship trying to manage long-distance, and Leah and Abby’s who are literally living together and could not be closer if they tried (except Abby does, lol, by suggesting they push their beds together, which, cute).

I’m not entirely sure the e-mail format entirely works for this story. It’s serviceable enough--Becky does a really good job at filling in blanks without spelling everything out for us, with a few exceptions that we’ll get to later--but the e-mails don’t lend themselves to enough character insight, and I found myself getting kind of lost through some of it.

For example, the main “plot” of Love, Creekwood is that Simon and Bram are struggling in their long-distance relationship (did Becky read The Whole Story, should I be pursuing legal action? /s), and that much is apparent through Simon’s e-mails with Bram, but when Simon e-mails Abby and Leah, it seems like he’s worked things out. But then Leah and Abby have their own correspondence where they’re like, “I’m worried about Simon.” And I was like...why? Oh I guess he was trying to make things seem better than they were? Okay, that didn’t super come across in the e-mail. So it was hard to tell what was actually going through the characters’ heads during the story at times. 

But trying to change the story from an e-mail format to a prose format with e-mails like the first Simon book would have taken more time and effort, and I know that Becky probably didn’t want to spend more effort than necessary on a project like this--she’s said on multiple occasions that Leah was the last book in the Simonverse and that she didn’t want to write any more books featuring Simon. I definitely think she was excited about writing this book and getting to spend time with these characters again, but I think digging them up for a full-length novel just wasn’t something she was interested in doing. I can’t blame her for this, either. She spent years in the Simonverse. Simon was her debut, and her next two books were directly related to it in some way--one being a sidestory featuring characters from Simon, and the other being a direct sequel. It’s easy to get burnt out on a world when you spend so much time involved in it, and I think Becky wanted to work on different things. So, for what it’s worth, I think this is probably the best form of this book that we could have gotten.

Also, very tiny nitpick but it was hard to see who was writing who sometimes, since all of the e-mail addresses tended to blur together sometimes, particularly in the group messages, and I think that if Becky wasn’t so dead-set on “e-mails are the thing it has to be e-mails!!” then she could have gotten away with making that an actual group chat/text and it would have read a lot cleaner.

Those are the only real negatives I can say about it, unless you count these questions I have as negatives, which, I kind of count them as half-negatives because they’re not inherently bad things, and I think ambiguity was the intent here, but it left me feeling a bit unsatisfied. Maybe this will change the more I think about the book, but regardles:

What actually happened between Simon and Bram? What’s going on with them? We spend a lot of their e-mails talking about how much they miss each other, and then there’s the whole weird Birthday/Marriage Proposal thing. And we never actually get a concrete answer as to what happened with them on the Ferris wheel. Apparently Simon said two words to Bram that “destroyed” him. And I can’t, for the life of me, figure out what those words are supposed to be.

He doesn’t seem to be upset by them, judging by how he wants to “keep that one,” so it has to be a good “destroyed.” But their emails seem to become a lot more strained after that point, and Simon has been neglecting messaging his friends, leaving Leah worried he’s spiraling. What could Simon have said to Bram that night that would change their relationship like that, and cause Simon to retreat the way he did? “Marry me?” “It’s you?” “Fuck Martin?” “Hello, lover?” Like I seriously don’t get what exactly he said there, but I get the impression that I was supposed to have inferred something, that there was something I should have picked up on to lead me to a conclusion, an answer to that question.

Did Simon ask Bram to marry him and he say no? That can’t be, because when Simon finally responds to Leah, he says that, while he does believe Bram is the one, he knows he’s not ready for it to happen right now, so I can’t imagine he would have gone through with proposing. Did he say, “It’s you,” in a callback to when their identities were first revealed? Maybe it’s supposed to be a callback to something from Simon vs that I just don’t remember, because it’s been a while since I’ve reread it.

Going back and rereading that section, it really seems like it’s a one-sided Simon thing at first, that he’s just figuring stuff out. So, if he said “it’s you” what else is there to figure out? Like, they’re still together, they’re spending their breaks together, Simon spends a whole two weeks and then some in New York with Bram, and then they hit that “This isn’t working” point. And so I’m wondering, did something happen when Simon was in New York? It’s never really said, though Abby and Leah do point out Washington Square Park and...I’m not entirely sure why?

Okay, and finally, the ending: I’m still really confused by it. Not Simon transferring to New York, that makes sense, but Bram’s reply to it doesn’t. I mean, it’s in-character and makes sense as his reaction, but I don’t understand it’s significance. What is he calling Simon about? Just, that he’s happy they’re going to be going to school together? To talk about his transfer? I don’t know, something about it just felt incomplete to me.

All of this being said, I did still enjoy this book. It was super cute and exactly the follow-up to this series that I didn’t know I needed haha. Don’t take any of my criticisms of the book as hate or anything. I love Becky, I love her writing style, and I love her characters. This book could have been fifty pages of Simon e-mailing Bram his interpretation of the themes to the Bee Movie and I’d have loved the living hell out of it. It just didn’t click all the right boxes for me, in ways I can’t entirely place my fingers on.

17th of March, 2020

"The One with the Messages Upon Messages"

Sit down for this. Grab some refreshments. It's gonna get real.

It was 8 AM in the morning when I checked the platform mentioned in my previous post and saw that our class chat was the only empty one. (Well, okay, it's technically a chat for both classes in our year but whatever.) So, it's empty, right? After about five minutes of persuading myself to be brave, I sent the following messages:

S: "...and this is the only empty one left. 🦗🦗"

S: "We officially start [classes] tomorrow, right?"

It didn't take a minute for me to get a response that made my heart stop.

V: "Yes. 🙂"

I completely freaked out, let me tell you. I was not prepared to see that name and profile picture flash up, especially not that soon.

S: "Nice. Until then, I'll learn how to use this platform somehow. 😅"

Bookworm Friend (BWF in texts): "Me too, I think. 😁"

V: "Won't be much of a secret 🙂"

V: "If you'll want to use the video, you'll need a webcamera/your phone's camera and a headset/phone."

S: "I'll manage that, thank you. And I'll find an acceptable backdrop somehow. 😂"

[A/N: When V said you, she was only talking to me. In our native tongue, the singular you, which she was using there, differs from plural you.]

I was ecstatic! 8 AM of Day 0 and we'd already had a conversation. Things simply couldn't get any better than that...

Yeah. I guess I didn't know what was gonna go down yet.

It was about 11:40 AM-ish when I got a Google Classroom notif which made me stop cleaning in my room. There she was, Miss V mode activated, with one bloody long message. Even here, we had to share a course with the other class. Fantastic. I was just about to complain into my diary when a message notification from The Platform That Shall Not Be Named flashed up, sent by someone with a Very familiar profile picture. But only upon opening it, after screaming about it profusely, did I realise that it wasn't sent into the class chat.

V sent me a DM.

V: "Would you please tell [Curly Friend] to give me a valid e-mail address, because I can't send him the classroom code.."

I was bloody losing it. She could've chosen anyone from his class (WE AIN'T EVEN CLASSMATES) or who's friends with him, but no. For whatever reason she might have had for it, V approached me. She wanted my help. And I was honestly incredibly honoured that she did.

S: Sure!

And I immediately slid on over into Curly Friend's DMs to tell him about it. Okay, it was moreso me screaming at him to message her before I die from a cardiac arrest. His response? "Ok calm yo gay ass". Lmao. Nobody's ever told me that before but it was long overdue. And as I was speaking to him, I got another message.

V: "thank you 🙂"

I really need to make a "Thank you!" counter. I'm still entirely sure it's what we say to each other most often.

V: "but you can invite him here, too"

S: "To the English server? I just need to send him the code for that, right? 😅"

V: "yes, i think he'll know what to do"

S: "He definitely will. I'll send it right away."

And then, all was silent for until about an hour, when the folks from the other class started getting active in the chat. And with them, so did V, chatting as eagerly as I've never heard or seen her before. Of course. Classic introvert. Put her behind a screen and she'll thrive. When some guys tried to convince her to give us unlimited time for the upcoming test, she even sent a selfie (A FUCKING SELFIE) where she's with her cat, saying "The kitty tells me not to listen to you." YOU DON'T GET IT THAT IS THE CUTEST SHIT EVER.

Then things went apeshit. From my idiot of a cousin using informal pronouns with V to invite her to a video call (she was chill about it though, just told him not to do it with a smiley) and people cursing casually in the general chatroom meant for everyone in the server, to the other class boys adding some guys who haven't gone to my school for about 3 years now and have nothing to do with V. Things started turning into an animal farm instead of a server and me and my friends were outrageously bored. It took them some convincing, but the result was this DM:

S: "Miss, I know, saving space and we're covering the same thing and stuff, but... can't we separate the two classes instead? Just here, on [The Platform That Shall Not Be Named]. Some of us are starting to go mad."

My friends' circle kept on fuming and I waited. The response arrived in some 10 minutes.

V: "Well, we could."

S: "If it's no trouble for you, Miss, we'd be thankful 😅"

And thus, the woman of so many of my dreams stepped into action, changing from dorky, fun, lower-case-and-emojis V to serious, determined, pristine grammar Miss V seemingly in the blink of an eye. She created two separate chats. Of course, it was not an easy or a fast process, inspiring messages like "put me back into [my class] bitch", that made my blood boil. She threw one of the additional boys out and demanded the other's name. "Those, who won't disclose their real names will be kicked out. Sorry." After he made up some silly ass fake name, V just wrote: "I don't have a student like that, ban." And as we all reacted to it with hysterical laughter in the form of emojis, V just writes: "That's that." AN. ICON. Go home, everybody. V wins.

The next minute, in our fresh, new class chat for only my class this time, the following message arrives:

V: "Dear [Class], I separated the two bunches, because they couldn't behave."

The six thank you–messages that followed (one of them mine) is pretty telling. And V was pretty fucking mad. Before I texted her about it, she was completely silent, but now, she was agitated. Her later message to a girl looking for the class chats writes: "Everyone can only see their own [class], because SOME PEOPLE started trolling the others."

That evening I had homeroom over The Platform That Shall Not Be Named, as my homeroom teacher finally learned how to use it since yesterday's Messenger call, when she mentioned asking V, who was sitting next to her during the faculty meetings all day, to teach her. I would've paid good money to see that, to be honest.

See, guys? This is why I'm so in love with who V is. She's a lovable little dork, yeah, but she's so much more. Always right there when you need her, whatever for, and takes it incredibly seriously until the very second the deed is done. I couldn't be more thankful for having her in my life.

~ S ♡

[Every story I share here, no matter how specific I get with my wording, depicts actual events from my own life.]

Red Web Mystery Reviews

Red Web is a podcast by Rooster Teeth featuring two guys from that whole Achievement Hunter thing that I can never tell apart (but you don’t need to know anything about this) about unsolved mysteries that often but not always have something to do with the internet. Let’s review the episodes out so far, because… well, no reason, honestly, I just wanted to.

Lake City Quiet Pills

Based on their information presented here, this whole thing and their explanation for it seem plausible enough. You have to assume that this group of apparently assassins is kind of bad at operational security, but there’s actually a lot of cases where big criminals got exposed because they used the same URL or E-mail address or similar.

Satoshi Nakamoto

I already knew about this beforehand, and I would say they did a good job explaining it. Personally, I think they should have gone into a bit more of how much a shit-show the whole Newsweek Dorian Nakamoto thing was; in short, there was no reason to believe this person had anything to do with Bitcoin, he didn’t even speak good english (which is probably what caused some of the misunderstandings), and it was both a huge embarrassment for Newsweek (at least I hope they felt embarrassed) and they needlessly hounded a completely uninvolved person for this.

But then they get into new evidence, and we see a problem that I think is a bit systematic: They don’t really go into how trustworthy the evidence is. Specifically, they say that the one person who can cast light on this might be… John McAfee. Fucking John McAfee. Seriously, that guy?

For context: John McAfee did indeed create the antivirus company that still bears his name. But he sold it in the 1990s, and thanks to money and drugs, he’s just gotten plain crazy ever since. There was the whole thing where he was implicated in a murder in Belize a couple of years ago; he kept blogging from a jail in Guatemala, later returned to the US, and keeps being part of outlandish schemes (including two presidential runs, though he failed to get the nomination for libertarian candidate both 2016 and 2020), controversies, and supposedly super-awesome tech startups that never go anywhere. It makes perfect sense that he’d claim to be involved in the creation of Bitcoin. It makes no sense whatsoever to believe him. If you’re interested and have way too much time, read what El Reg has to say about him.

Mortis

Oh god. This one makes me both want to laugh and cry. Mostly laugh, to be honest, because it is such an obvious nothing burger, but also weep for the internet that was.

The story is that they found a participant in an early internet warez network who wasn’t that great at OpSec. This is only fully revealed at the end, and they don’t even seem to have noticed that this case is clearly and completely solved.

Most of the humour for me comes from the fact that they’re rediscovering the old pre-social web, and are convinced that it’s all weird and nefarious. Why would one person register websites for their interests, and then never do anything with them? Because that’s what the internet was like back then in the late 1990s and early 2000s! Hey, look, here’s my ugly special-interest website from that era that hasn’t been updated in years and isn’t going to be updated any time soon either. That’s just what was normal back then. Same with a website for every person, or trying to do your own garage sales via your website. That was the thing to do back then. And yes, obviously it sucked and didn’t work very well.

They even realise that this is what „might“ have been going on, and theorise about this hypothetical early web. „Maybe if there was some website that linked all these together and allowed you to search“ - yeah, those existed. Digg and Technorati and Del.icio.us, remember those? All bought by Yahoo and promptly forgotten. And to be fair, they never worked as well as real social networks did.

But back then we had this glorious freedom. No sudden porn bans like here on Tumblr; no need to match any predefined template for what posts are, no user tracking by Facebook, nobody telling you that you’re tagging your posts wrong…

It’s understandable why we lost that web. Linking together is much easier if all content is owned and controlled by like four companies. It also makes it much easier to set up a new account; setting up a new website is just a lot of pain and knowledge you have to have that you don’t necessarily want to have.

But now we live in our monocultures and must live with whatever content decisions our corporate overlords make and then sell us as „community standards“, and the wild and weird web that we used to have is only a memory. And sometimes not even that; sometimes these new young kids treat it as a „weird nefarious mystery“. Actually, I just looked it up, and Alfredo and Trevor are both around 30, just a few years younger than I am. They were alive for at least the tail end if this. These guys could have known this shit!

So, yeah, the story here is not the mystery; it’s a lament for the web we lost.

D.B. Cooper

Again one I already knew, and I think they gave a good overview. Personally I’m in the camp of people who assume that he failed to make a safe landing.

Happy Valley Dream Survey

This seems vaguely interesting. One thing that kind of annoys me about this podcast is that they (well mostly Alfredo) generally assume that everything strange is necessarily nefarious, without any evidence. The whole thing here leads nowhere, after all.

Lead Masks Case

Again, I’m not sure how much weight to put on the other evidence they listed, especially that whole supposed UFO sighting. Yes, that one woman may have been very respected in her community and/or had a high social status, whatever that means. But the thing is that rich people who are super-involved in their church community or whatever can still (through no fault of their own) be unreliable witnesses and invent things that weren’t there, or not the way they were described.

Cicada 3301 (parts 1 and 2)

Personally I find this one less interesting because it’s not a mystery, it’s a riddle, and that’s way less fun. Much of the circumstances are weird enough, I guess.

What confuses me the most about this is how it’s supposed to be a recruitment tool, but it doesn’t seem to be very good at that. A lot of the steps don’t really seem to be that difficult and require just some fairly standard hacker skills. This is similar to the Satashi Nakamoto case, where one hint was „knows C++ programming“. Lots of people know that, and it’s something you can totally teach yourself. And if the people who were recruited through this were really supposed to program software, well… why did no part of this test whether they could do so? That’s a whole different skill. My conclusion is that this Cicada group is either a long con or a group that is nowhere near as smart as it thinks it is.

One thing to note here: They just casually assume that the FBI and NSA and so on are monitoring the whole internet, in real time, all the time. Which is true, we know that thanks to Edward Snowden. Isn’t that much more nefarious than any of the other mysteries here put together? How did we get to a place where Americans both think „this is the country that has all the freedom“ and „if you say or search for the wrong things you’ll get put on a government watchlist that’s just normal“ at the same time? Pervasive monitoring of a population is pretty much the exact opposite of freedom, but apparently we all in the western world just take it in stride anyway. That’s nothing to do with this podcast, though.

Conclusion

Generally okay podcast. The hosts are good storytellers, even if the stories are sometimes a bit shaky. It is at least at no point overly gross or insultingly stupid (unlike the official Rooster Teeth Podcast, which is both). So I think I can recommend it if you need something, anything to fill the quiet, and you’re already out of episodes of Black Box Down.

Obsession - Chapter 2

Again, to the people who don’t know how tags work, this is Starker. If you don’t like this pairing, then do not click on this story.

Thanks a lot to everyone who has liked, reblogged and reviewed the previous parts.

Which are here: Prolouge

and here: Chapter 1

Please inform me if you want to get tagged for the next part.

Tony is in a bit of denial in this chapter, which I have tried to indicate with this. If this striking through words makes it too hard to read for you, plese let me know, and I will try to think of something different. Though there aren’t too many sentences like it.

Obsession – Chapter 2

33 year old Pepper Potts was positively surprised, when her former boyfriend and current boss, dutifully read and then signed every paper she put in front of him.

After his little disappearing act the day before (something that happened quite frequently, if she were honest), she had expected him to be just as difficult as he normally was. Which wasn’t to say that Tony didn’t take his responsibilities seriously; but the genius had a rather extensive history of locking himself away in his personal lab, whenever company matters started to bore him. And since everything that didn’t directly involve his tech or other fields of his expertise usually bored him, Pepper really had her work cut out for her.

But today, Tony seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood, almost eager to get all the dreaded work done.

“Did something happen yesterday?” She asked, as he signed the contract before him with a flourish.

“Why do you ask, Pep?”

There was a chipper tone to his voice, that seemed fairly out of place considering he was doing paperwork.

“You just seem to be in a very good mood.”

Tony nodded, while reading through a proposal for a joined project with Hammer Industries. He was going to decline, of course, but it was always funny to see what Justin offered this time in hopes of enticing him into working together. Tony mentally scoffed. As if he would ever put his name on anything that amateur had had his hands on.

“I met someone.” Did it count as a meeting when Peter hadn’t even been aware of his presence? No matter, he still couldn’t contain the little smile at the thought of the brunette.

Pepper sighed. “Do I need to prepare the PR-Department for an upcoming sex video?”

Tony cringed. “Ouch. … Though, fair, I guess. But no. Don’t worry. We were fully clothed the whole time and all that happened was talking.” Peter had done all the talking, and if one wanted to get technical about it, it hadn’t been directed at Tony, but, whatever. Details.

He turned just in time to catch the surprised look on Pepper’s face, and grinned.

“Starting to believe my bad press, Miss Potts? Contrary to popular believe, I don’t sleep with everyone I meet.”

The strawberry blonde woman shook her head.

“I know that, Tony. It’s just… no, you are right. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, though I’m still angry at you for just running off like you did. There is a reason we employ personal security guards.” She finished and pinned him with a penetrating expression. He just grinned wider at her.

“I know. This new batch is actually pretty good. What was the team leaders name again? Bates? Balm? Anyway, it took me a whole hour to distract him long enough for me to put on my Non-Important-Person disguise, for short: NIP-d, if you will, and get out of the tower. He even found me when I was halfway on my way back. Pretty impressive. Maybe we should give him a raise.”

Pepper just sighed in defeat. “Barnes, Tony. His name is James Barnes. Natasha personally recommended him for the job. And he was not impressed with that stunt you pulled to ��distract’ him, by the way.”

Since Natasha’s job as head of security contained some 'extracurricular activities’, which often times took her to various locations, someone else needed to be in charge of the security in place not only at Stark Industries, but also to all of the people in higher positions and of course, Tony Stark himself. James Barnes had come highly recommended by Natasha, and if a woman who could kill you 27 different ways with a toothpick recommended someone to you, you didn’t ask questions and just fucking hired them.

Tony hummed in acknowledgment as he started on the last paragraph of the proposition. A few seconds went by in silence.

“It suits you, you know? Being happy. Are you planning on seeing them again?”

Hopeful anticipation filled him at the thought.

“I am.”

Then he grabbed Hammer’s proposal and handed it back to Pepper.

“Shredder this and send Justin a 'Better luck next time’ E-mail, would you? Anything else on the agenda for today?”

She accepted the papers and after a quick glance at her phone, shook her head.

“No, you are done for now. Wow, that was quick. Do I get to meet this person who apparently inspires you to actually do your work?”

She asked with a playful grin. Tony couldn’t help the smile that stole over his lips as he imagined introducing Peter to her. The younger man would be pressed into his side, with Tony’s arm around that narrow waist, and probably blushing.

“Sure. One day. If things go well and all.” He did need to introduce himself to Peter first, after all.

“I’m looking forward to it. Enjoy the rest of your day, Tony.”

And with those parting words, she left his office. He waited until he couldn’t hear the sounds of her heels clicking against the tiled floors anymore, before he addressed the room.

“Jarvis, commence project 'Baby Boy’. Let’s continue where we left off this morning.”

“Certainly, Sir.” Came the voice of the artificial intelligence Tony had created and installed not only in Stark Tower, but all of his other properties as well. “Also, I would like to inform you, that I have decided against reminding you that you haven’t slept ever since you started with your research, 22 hours and 18 minuets ago. Which makes it a total of 33 hours and 37 minutes that you have been awake. As previous instances have shown that trying to encourage you to keep a healthy sleeping schedule, have been ultimately futile efforts on my part, I will decline from further fruitless endeavors.”

Tony blinked in slight surprise. “Since when were you so passive-aggressive? You have been listening to Pepper too much. How about this then? We will give it another hour and 23 minutes, make it an even 35 hours without sleep, before I go and lie down like a good boy.”

The A.I. seemed to agree with his terms, as all around him, different holo screens popped up, all displaying various information about one Peter Benjamin Parker.

It had started smaller.

Innocent.

Only one screen, displaying Peter’s student credentials on Berkeley’s web page.

When Tony had made it back to his penthouse in the tower, after numerous promises and assurances that he would inform someone if he wanted to go for a stroll again, (all of which were lies, naturally) he had started with his research right away.

He had just wanted some facts, a point to start at. Full name, age, address, marital status. (It wouldn’t be completely unheard of for a college student to be married already, after all.) Peter wasn’t!

However, after he had gotten the answers to these most prominent questions, he had still felt… unsatisfied.

Just because Peter wasn’t married, didn’t mean that he wasn’t currently in a relationship. Though would it really matter if he was?

He had shaken his head then, thinking that he was getting way ahead of himself. He had only spent a little more than an hour in Peter’s presence, of which the other hadn’t even been aware of, and he was already contemplating how to deal with possible rivals? It was ludicrous!

Yes, the younger man was attractive (and smart, and empathetic, and insightful, and charming, and witty), but that didn’t mean that Tony wanted to start a relationship with him. (Oh, who was he kidding?)

Didn’t even mean he wanted to sleep with him. (No, really, who was he fucking kidding?)

So after this blessedly short mini meltdown, Tony decided that he needed to acquire more information to properly deal with his infatuation situation. And thus, Project Baby Boy was born.

After all the official records, it took no time at all for him to find Peter’s Facebook, Instagram and Tumblr accounts. Social media was a glorious thing. It made you bare some of your innermost, private thoughts and feelings to a world of strangers, without you ever realizing that you were doing it. Every post, every like, every picture and every comment the brunette made, slowly unveiled who Peter really was to Tony’s hungry eyes. As the hours had gone by, the genius billionaire found himself more and more enamored with the (single!) 24 year old. Between dorky science jokes, geeky Star Wars and other sci-fi posts, and a truly astounding amount of dog and cat pictures, Peter was revealing himself to be quite an intriguing individual.

He studied bio-chemistry as a main field, with a bit of bio-engineering and health and medical sciences on the side. There was a clear indication of the type of profession sweet Peter wanted to get into. Thinking back on the conversation in the diner, Tony wasn’t surprised. The younger man had been incredibly enthusiastic about the future of medicine and how he would one day be able to help people. It definitely explained why Tony Stark was only number 6 on Peter’s tumblr list of ‘The 10 greatest scientists alive today’. Since Peter was more into the squishy sciences (Tony wasn’t squeamish - he had had someone else’s blood on his person far too often for such sensitivities - but he preferred a circuit board and wires over organs and skin tissue any day), it made sense that the billionaire, genius mechanic Tony Stark, wasn’t on the top his list. (Still a bit of a blow to the ego, though) At least Peter had placed him before that insufferable ass, Reed Richards!

(And hey, it was a ranking based on corresponding interest in scientific avenues. Tony would soon be in the first  and only  place of ‘Scientist who regularly rocks my world’)

He was also a bit of a hobby photographer, it seemed, as Peter had uploaded many photos taken of friends, animals, sunsets, buildings and plants. Sometimes a photo would showcase a particular play with lighting and shadows, other times special camera filters would highlight different focus points in a picture. Tony may not be a great artisan, but he could appreciate talent.

He also found a short video clip in which one of Peter’s friends (the internet handle was ‘guy-in-the-chair’) had filmed Peter’s, frankly adorable, reaction to being served some monstrously sugary kind of dessert. The video’s caption had read 'Orgasm by Marshmallow stuffed chocolate Cupcake’, and to the inventors utter delight, it included 11 seconds of Peter taking his first bite and actually looking like he was having a tiny orgasm right then and there. Complete with eyes widening before rolling back into his head, and a moan that couldn’t be described as anything else but sinful. (Tony might have re-watched those 11 seconds more times than he cared to admit, while imagining the younger man lying naked and stretched out underneath him, on the silken sheets of Tony’s bed, moaning for a very different reason.)

He found only a few other video’s similar to this. Apparently Peter had a major sweet tooth – which Tony could think of various ways to exploit – and his friend had obviously thought it great fun to film him eating things that would send any diabetic into an early grave.

He had Jarvis save every one of those videos into a private folder, for his personal viewing pleasure. (Oh, and what a pleasure it was. Though the cupcake video was definitely his favorite, the one in which his darling Peter all but went down on a deep fried Mars bar, was a very close second.)

While Tony certainly would have liked to add even more to his collection, he was grateful that only a handful of such videos existed.

He didn’t like the thought of others seeing his Peter like this.

While most of the comments beneath the videos were obviously from friends and acquaintances, who either teased the brunette about his sweet tooth, or commented on the foods themselves, others had been… less PG.

Other people shouldn’t get to think about him like that.

Thinking back on it now, Tony contemplated if maybe he should take the videos down himself. He had already saved away his own copies of them.

Keep him them to myself.

Maybe later.

Right now he wanted to keep going, there was still so much to learn about the cute college student.

Tony knew that life hadn’t been very kind to Peter. He had been orphaned at six, mother and father dying in a plane crash. Taken in by his aunt and uncle, May and Ben Parker. Seven years later, Ben Parker had been shot in a robbery gone wrong, and if the police report that Tony had hacked was to be believed, Peter had been an eyewitness to the murder.

It was humbling in a way, to think that someone who had been forced to endure so much trauma at a young age already, could grow into the bright 24 year old man that the genius had met just yesterday.

Jarvis had also pulled some older records, that showed that the two remaining Parkers had been left in quite a lot of debt after Ben’s passing. (Well, Tony assumed the amount of debt was a lot for regular people. His bed had actually cost more than the number presented to him.)

May Parker, Peter’s aunt, was a nurse in Queens General Hospital. (Which could have possibly inspired the boy’s chosen field of study) Peter had taken on two part time jobs as soon as he was out of highschool – which Tony concluded were used to help pay the bills, since he was a scholarship student at Berkeley and still lived with his aunt.

“Jarvis, run a calculation. Considering the regular costs of rent and other living expenses, how long will it take the Parkers to pay back what they owe?”

“Keeping in mind the expected rise in interest rates, taxes and insurance, it will approximately take May and Peter Parker 31 years to eradicate their debt. This number is likely to change if Mr. Parker pursues a higher paying profession after finishing his education.”

Tony nodded thoughtfully.

“Still, that’s not for a few more years yet, especially if Peter wants to go for a Master and Doctor degree after he has finished with his Bachelor.”

This could work in his favor.

While Tony loathed people who wanted to use him only for his money, he liked to spend it on the ones he cared about.

Liked taking care of those who deserved it.

He let his gaze be caught by one particular screen, that displayed a photo of Peter Jarvis had pulled from the younger’s Instagram. In it Peter was outside, the sun shining brightly above him, in only a loose t-shirt and cut off jeans. A black cat was cradled in his arms, and he was smiling brightly at the camera. Tony re-read the text underneath the picture. 'This gorgeous lady decided to join Ned and I on our walk to A heart has four paws shelter today.’ (Because despite his two jobs and being a scholarship student at one of the tier universities in this country, Peter still made the time to volunteer at an animal shelter. Tony was starting to worry if the precious boy even slept anymore)

Peter most certainly deserved to have someone take care of him.

“You have received a text message from Miss Romanoff, Sir.” Jarvis voice interrupted his thoughts jarringly.

“What’s it say, J?” He didn’t think she had encountered any problems with her mission.

“It states ‘Mission accomplished. On my way back.’, Sir. Do you wish to give her any further instructions`?”

“No. Tell her good job and to treat herself to some sight seeing if she likes. Not every day one get’s to visit Rome. Well, unless you are me, of course.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Would Peter like to go to Rome? It was said to be one of the most romantic cities in the world, wasn’t it? Maybe keep that in mind for a second date.

“It has now been 35 hours since you last slept. As per your own-”

“Yes, yes, I know. Stop yapping at me, J.” He threw his hands up in surrender. “Save everything we have so far into my private folder. Separate the videos and photos of Peter into their own. Also, make sure I have some free time tomorrow when Peter is on his way back home from that restaurant he works at. I plan on running into him, completely coincidentally, of course.”

“Of course, Sir.”

For the first time in a long time, the idea of sleeping didn’t seem like a necessary inconvenience. He was looking forward to what his imagination could come up with, after those videos.

What sweet dreams he was about to have.

The next morning, the news were overflowing with reports of Norman Osborns demise. The business man had been on vacation in Rome, and suffered a fatal heart attack. He had apparently mixed up his medication. It was a tragic accident.

tbc..

@itfeelssogoodmrstark @starkravingspiders @spadestorm696 @diamondheart31 @the-neon-demon  @unknownshadyperson

Out of the Blue: To the Rescue

Cover art: @redheadgleek​

Beta extraordinaire: @hkvoyage​

Links: AO3, FF.net 

Author’s Note:

This chapter was the most exciting one to write. I hope you enjoy reading it too!

Chapter 9: To the Rescue

"His misfortunes!" repeated Darcy contemptuously; "yes, his misfortunes have been great indeed."

"And of your infliction," cried Elizabeth with energy. "You have reduced him to his present state of poverty--comparative poverty. You have withheld the advantages which you must know to have been designed for him. You have deprived the best years of his life of that independence which was no less his due than his desert. You have done all this! and yet you can treat the mention of his misfortune with contempt and ridicule."

(An excerpt from Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen)

 The day of Sam and Mercedes’ wedding, Blaine was woken up at a quarter to four in the morning by the PI, who informed him that Chandler had gone to the restaurant at night, broken in and started a fire. It had all gone too fast for the PI to prevent it or put the fire out without too much damage. “Must have used gasoline or something, the fucker!”

However, the PI did have all the proof needed to convict Chandler for arson, so that was a plus.

“He’s gone somewhere else now. Jack’s following him. I have to stay here until the firefighters arrive.”

“Keep me posted.”

“Will do.”

Not even ten minutes later, the phone rang again, this time around to tell Blaine that Chandler had wreaked havoc at the church. Again, the PI had failed to prevent the damage. He did have proof of Chandler’s misdeeds, though.

That rat! That fucking bastard! Who the hell does things like that! He’ll pay for this! But first, I need to fix it. I won’t give him the satisfaction of having ruined the wedding. No, sir.

“Enough!” Blaine hissed. “Tell me where he’s heading now!”

“I think he’s going to the bakery. Mulberry Drive 224.”

“The both of you, go there as fast as you can and grab Chandler BEFORE he ruins the wedding cake. I’ll call the police and then I’ll be on my way to Lima, too.”

Before he left his parents’ house, he shook Cooper awake and told him what was happening.

Coop, once he was awake enough to pay attention, swore under his breath, and then took a wad of cash and his credit card out of his wallet and handed all of it to Blaine. “Go and fix this, Blaine. I don’t care how much it will cost. You need to save this wedding. Oh, this is all my fault, I should have used my influence to put Chandler behind bars for what he did to Kurt. The guy’s crazy!”

Blaine shook his head. “This is not your fault. If anything, it’s mine! I should have contacted our PI long before now, and I should have put two and two together.”

“No use arguing now,” Coop said. “Go!! I’ll make your excuses to Mom and Dad, and I’ll come to the church as fast as I can so I can help out, too.”

Shortly after seven in the morning,, Blaine was surveying the damage at the church. The minister and his wife were with him, sad and subdued.

“And to think we were worried about ever raising enough money to repair the roof,” the wife whispered, and started crying, her hand over her mouth.

The minister took her in his arms to comfort her, and said, “This looks worse than it is, Doris. Nothing some cleaning and scrubbing and painting won’t fix.”

Blaine took his chance. “Reverend, I’ll pay for everything, also the roof and any other repairs the church might need, if you can help me save the wedding today.”

The minister patted his arm. “No need to bribe us. We love Sam and Mercedes, and of course we’ll do our utmost to get this mess cleaned up in time. I’ll contact everyone I know, and I’m sure they’ll all chip in.”

Blaine grimaced. “It’s not just the church.”

He explained about the restaurant burning down, and saw the minister frown, deep in thought.

Then Doris suggested, “We could use our garden, right, Jim? And the ladies of our congregation could help out with the food. It won’t be much, and it won’t be fancy, but at least it’ll be something. Maybe we could have a barbecue? We can use our grill, and Mr. Rogers will lend us his, too, I’m sure.”

The minister nodded, a slow smile stealing over his face as he squeezed his wife’s hand.

“That sounds wonderful,” Blaine said. “I’ll arrange for meat and fruit and vegetables and so on to be delivered to your house then, ma’am. Also the wedding cake, which is thankfully unharmed. Could you please make me a list of everything you ladies will need?”

He followed the minister to his house, inspected the garden, which was certainly big enough and then some, and helped Doris compile a list of food for the barbecue.

“We’ll also need decorations,” she said hesitantly. “For the church, and for here in the garden. And lights. Crockery and silverware. Tables and chairs too. I could ask the parishioners, but I don’t know…”

“On it,” Blaine promised. “Here’s my cell phone number. If anything else comes to mind, you text or call me, okay? Or if there is any problem, just holler and I’ll fix it for you. All right? That’s kind of my job, problem-solving, and I’ve got all sorts of handy connections.”

She nodded and smiled at him. “Sam and Mercedes must be very good friends of yours for you to go to all this trouble.”

Blaine smiled back. “Sam’s a great guy. And he deserves a perfect wedding.”

From then on, the rest of the morning was a blur of activity. Blaine tackled the decoration issue first, knowing they’d need all the time they could get. Remembering how the loft and terrace had looked at that first wedding Kurt had organized, he searched for a beautiful gauzy fabric to hide any imperfections with, and bought the shop’s entire supply of it. He also stocked up on string lights, table cloths and runners, centerpieces, napkins, china, silverware and glasses, and bought a mountain of food, dozens of champagne and wine bottles and fizzy drinks for the children, as well as cooler boxes and refrigerators to store everything in, and sent it all over to the minister’s along with the wedding cake.

While handing the delivery boy a tip, he got a phone call from Sam, and knew that he had to trust the ladies of the church to organize and carry out the rest of the tasks there, because he couldn’t go back to the church and help. Sam’s predicament sent him in another direction.

Sam was usually so relaxed and zen that Blaine hadn’t immediately recognized the voice on the phone, panicked as it sounded. The gist of the matter was that Sam’s best man had disappeared. He’d been staying with his parents for the weekend, but according to them, he hadn’t returned from the rehearsal dinner they’d had the previous evening. His bed hadn’t been slept in. He also hadn’t called or texted, and his phone went straight to voicemail. His suit was hanging on the wardrobe next to his bed, but the wedding rings were nowhere to be found.

“What am I gonna do?”

“You don’t need to do a thing, Sam,” Blaine assured him. “I’ll handle this. All I need is for you to send me a recent picture of the guy that’s missing. I’ll also need to know his full name and his birth date and what he was wearing last night. Oh, and his telephone number. Maybe we can track his cell phone to find him.”

Blaine hurried to his car, and rummaged in the glove compartment for a pen and a piece of paper so that he could jot everything down.

Sam was silent for a minute. “Wow. You always know what to do, don’t you? All right, it’s Michael Robert Chang Jr., born on the 28th of April 1982. I can’t look up his number on my phone while I’m calling you, so I’ll text you his number later. What was he wearing yesterday? I really can’t remember. I’ll call his mom and get back to you, okay?”

“Just give me her number, that’s faster,” Blaine told him. “Text me both Michael’s number and his mother’s. And a picture, please.”

“Kay. And what do I do about the rings?”

“Easy. Tell me what jeweler the rings are from, and I’ll get you new ones. And I’ll gladly stand in as your best man, unless you’d rather ask someone else.”

“You will?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thanks, man. You’re a lifesaver!”

Blaine jotted down the jeweler’s name and address and rang off. After a short call to Mrs. Chang, he compiled an e-mail with all the information plus the photograph, and sent it to his PI, asking him to track down the missing best man.

He was already buckling in and starting the engine to head to the jeweler’s when his phone rang again.

“Ugh, what now?!” he grumbled, but he accepted the call.

It was the minister, who told Blaine there were protesters in front of the church.

“Protesters?” Blaine asked. “What are they protesting against?”

The minister let out a long sigh. “Mixed marriage.”

“Seriously? In the twenty-first century?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. I told them to leave, but they wouldn’t budge.”

“Okay. I’ll sort it out, Reverend, I promise. In the meantime, tell your people to stay away from those nutcases, in case they become aggressive.”

“I will. Thank you so much.”

Blaine tapped with his fingers on his dashboard and groaned in frustration. Chandler, while being led away by the police that morning, had laughed and shouted at him, “Good luck fixing this mess! I’ve got some more surprises in store for you!”

Well, he certainly hoped that this was the last unpleasant surprise.

He called his friend Wes, who worked for his father, the mayor of Westerville, and explained the situation.

“You’re in luck. It’s outside of my dad’s constituency, but our riot control team has a training exercise near Lima today, so I’ll brief them about this situation and send them over, and it can be comped as extra training.”

“I’ll pay for everything. I want this wedding to go off without a hitch.”

“Are you the best man or something?”

“Yes, I am. Thanks, Wes, I knew I could count on you!”

At the jeweler’s, they explained to him that they couldn’t provide him with two replacement rings on such short notice. When Blaine told them that he only needed the order form for the original rings and could head to any other jeweler with that information, they backed down quickly. “Well, we can’t offer you the exact same rings, but we can show you a selection of very similar ones.”

Blaine looked at what they had. For Sam, there would be no problem. His ring was a simple band of white gold, which they had in stock. All that lacked was the inscription. Mercedes’ ring was more intricate, but the rings on offer did resemble the picture on the order form.

Blaine chose the one that looked most like the original, though in platinum and with more diamonds, and whipped out Cooper’s credit card to pay for both rings.

The jeweler looked over the moon, until Blaine insisted on both rings being engraved straight away. “The original inscription, please.”

“But… but… That takes hours!”

“You have until a quarter to three,” Blaine informed him, settling down on the plush sofa in the jeweler’s waiting room. “I’ll wait.”

While he was at the jeweler’s, he checked in with everyone.

He briefed Cooper about Chandler’s misdeeds, and urged him to go to the church asap to see if anything else needed to be arranged. “Already there, bro! I’ll handle things at the church, don’t you worry.”

He asked his PI for updates, and just after noon, he got word that Michael Chang Jr. had been found in Faurot park. Drugged, unresponsive and suffering from hypothermia, but otherwise okay.

Blaine asked for Michael to be brought to the nearest hospital, and called Mrs. Chang to tell her the news.

Then he contacted the minister again to tell him a riot control team was on the way, and to know how the clean-up and decorating was going. The minister sounded a lot happier than last time he heard him. The riot team had already come and taken the protesters away, and everyone from the neighbourhood was helping out. Both the garden and the church were starting to look festive.

“Do you have everything you need?”

“I think we do, yes. Thank you!”

After twiddling his thumbs for a while, it occurred to Blaine that Mercedes and Sam would need music, too, for their first dance and the ensuing party, so he called Thad, who’d started a band after he graduated and was always looking for gigs. Thad and his band mates weren’t yet booked for that day, and agreed to play at the wedding.

“Sure, dude. We’ll be there! What’s the song for the first dance?”

“I’ll give you the groom’s phone number, you can talk through the setlist with him. Best stick to a cappella singing or bring your own power supply, ‘cause the party is in someone’s garden, and we wouldn’t want to cause a blackout.”

“Right.”

“I’ll pay you guys tonight, when you arrive, okay? See you then!”

Finally, the rings were done, and Blaine paid for the engraving and gave the jeweler a hefty tip for doing it so quickly.

The smell of grilling meat hit his nose when he stepped outside, and his stomach growled. He’d forgotten to eat breakfast that morning, and in the meantime it was – he checked his watch – half past two. Also, he still had to shower, shave and do his hair and put on the suit he’d brought for the occasion. Which was at his parents’ house in Westerville. There was no way he’d be able to drive there and get back to Lima on time. But he couldn’t show up unkempt and unshaven either.

Think, Anderson.

But his energy was depleted, and instead of hurrying to sort this out, too, he sagged against his car and passed a hand over his eyes.

His phone rang, and he grabbed it sluggishly. It was Cooper.

“Hey squirt! If I know you, you’re still out there somewhere in your sweats and with your bedhead, right? Well, seeing as you’re cutting it close, I’ve brought your suit here, and I’ve asked the minister if you could use his bathroom to get ready. Oh, and I’ve ordered pizza. You probably haven’t eaten a bite yet all day.”

Blaine let out a shaky laugh. “Thanks, Coop.”

“No problem. Get here pronto, and there still might be a meat lovers pizza for you.”

Blaine felt much better once he was all spruced up and had some food in his belly. He followed Sam into the church, noting that the protesters were gone and that any trace of the vandalism had been wiped out or camouflaged.

As the bride came down the aisle, everyone sitting in the pews was smiling, so he hoped with all his heart that all the hiccups had been dealt with now, and that the wedding would be smooth sailing.

Wait, did he say everyone? Kurt was looking straight at him, and seemed put out about something.

Blaine inclined his head and smiled hesitantly at his crush, who responded with a fierce glare.

What was that about? Oh… Had Blaine missed a best man cue? He pulled his attention back to the ceremony, but no, the minister was still talking, and all he had to do at the moment was stand there and listen.

He liked the minister’s sermon. He spoke of love not being a feeling but a commitment, something to work on every day. It was no-nonsense and poignant, and the sentiments expressed struck a chord with him.

He couldn’t help stealing a glance at Kurt every now and then. Kurt was wearing a light grey tuxedo, and looking so much like Blaine’s daydreams about them getting married that it made Blaine want to go and kiss him.

The exchanging of the vows and the rings came and went, and Mercedes didn’t seem to have noticed her ring was slightly different from the one she’d chosen.

Still, Blaine didn’t breathe easy until the ceremony was over and everyone was in the minister’s garden, laughing and talking and queuing at the buffet.

There had been no more alt-righters outside the church when they all filed out, the garden looked like a dream and the food smelled amazing, even after that large pizza Blaine had gobbled up earlier. Now he hoped that Thad and his band mates would arrive on time, and then there would be nothing more to worry about.

Thad did turn up, and Blaine bopped his head happily to the music as he worked up the courage to ask Kurt to dance, moving closer to him where he was chatting with the bride.

When he got within hearing distance, he was dismayed to hear that Kurt disapproved of him as the replacement best man. Kurt’s assessment of him stung, but Blaine had to admit that he had a point. Blaine had lost his temper around Kurt on several occasions, and yes, he had been rude.

Determined to make up for past mistakes, Blaine pasted on his most charming smile as he endeavoured to catch Kurt’s attention and then asked him to dance.

Kurt blushed, actually blushed, when he saw Blaine, and his mouth fell open when Blaine held out his hand for him to take.

After Kurt’s diatribe, he’d expected to be turned down flat, but miraculously, Kurt said yes, and moments later, Blaine was in seventh heaven with Kurt in his arms.

He didn’t feel much like talking, wanting to soak up every aspect of this dance so he’d be able to relive it a million times in daydreams. However, he made an effort to be sociable by praising first the ceremony, then the wedding dress, and then Kurt’s prowess, when it turned out Kurt had made the dress himself. Wow, was there anything he couldn’t do?

Kurt let out the cutest giggle at the compliment, and it made Blaine giddy. He was making progress here, wasn’t he? Real progress!

Yet there had been that glare earlier, and Kurt darkly referring to horrible things Blaine had done.

Before he knew it, Blaine had asked what that had been all about, and then wished he’d held his tongue,, because Kurt looked spitting mad again, and brought up the incident at the wedding where they met, and… What? The way Blaine had treated Chandler? Shouldn’t that be the other way round? Chandler was by no means the victim here!

But when Blaine said so, Kurt’s retort made it seem like he thought Blaine and Chandler had been dating at one time. What kind of lies had Chandler been telling him?

Must not lose my temper… Must not lose my temper…

Blaine kept his reply short and to the point, and as soon as he’d set Kurt straight, he strode out of the garden before he could blow up entirely.

Ugh, that little weasel! What on earth did he tell Kurt? And is there no end to his manipulation and sabotage?

By the time he reached his parents’ house, he was a little bit calmer, and had decided to send Kurt an e-mail with the cold hard facts and the evidence. Heaven knew there was enough of it by now. And then Kurt could decide whom he wanted to believe.

It rankled how Kurt was so ready to believe the worst of Blaine and the best of Chandler. But at least on that count, Blaine had the truth on his side. The rant at the wedding, however, had been entirely Blaine’s fault, and he’d apologise for that once more. And he would strive to conquer his temper. He would.

An hour and a half later, he re-read what he’d written, checked the attachments, and then logged into Cooper’s work mail account to find Kurt’s e-mail address. It wasn’t stalking, okay? It wasn’t. Blaine didn’t plan on writing to Kurt ever again, but he deserved to know the truth. And Blaine deserved… closure.

After this, he’d stay away from Kurt. He was determined not to seek him out again. He’d leave the initiative up to Kurt.

Yeah, tell that to someone who’ll believe you…

The Least of These - Chapter 4

(Previous Chapter)

Word Count: 2,174 (Total Word Count: 12,464) Read on AO3

Short update, yeah, and not exactly action-filled, but hey, it’s been what, three months? Y’all deserve something at least.

Story Summary:

There have been plenty of people throughout the universe who weren’t exactly keen on the idea of a half-Galra being a paladin of Voltron. Why should things be any different on Earth?

In light of the paladins of Voltron being officially given a clean bill of health across the board as of this morning and being approved to participate fully in reconstruction efforts, Voltron and the crew of the Atlas will be stepping back from the public until further notice. Instead, their time will be devoted to actively assisting in restoration, relief, and security services.

For this reason, Voltron in association with the Galaxy Garrison will be limiting press presence from this point forward. Certain future planned public appearances by the paladins have been cancelled, and no interviews, photographs, video, or other media may be taken of the crew of the Voltron or the Atlas without direct approval from the Galaxy Garrison Department of Public Relations. This measure is to ensure the peace and privacy of the crews and prevent interference with their work.

Questions or requests for official press authorization should all be directed to the Galaxy Garrison Department of Public Relations.

“So, what, we’re talking media blackout here?” Pidge asked, looking up from her tablet. Shiro had forwarded the press release, one that was scheduled to be officially released this evening, to the other paladins as they had gathered for their group meeting in the rec room. Pidge was the first to break the silence, and the others looked up from their own devices or from where they had been reading over others’ shoulders, as they finished reading it as well. Keith was the only one who didn’t, and instead he continued scowling down at his knees where he sat scrunched and cross-armed in the couch corner. Shiro had already shown him the press release beforehand.

“Not a total blackout,” Shiro answered. He was the only one standing, his hands grasping the top of an empty chair as he faced the others, straight-backed and authoritative. “We’re not cutting off the media altogether, that would just seem suspicious as hell. But the Garrison wants us to limit our media presence as much as possible for the time being. And for the few media appearances we do make, it seems they want us to, ah, limit the scope of discussion topics. No talking about relations with the Galra, nothing about Keith’s role on the team; we’re supposed to focus only on reconstruction on Earth, and direct the focus back onto that topic if they try to bring up anything else.”

He lifted his own tablet, pulling up the e-mail he had been sent by the communications department. “Apparently we’re gonna be meeting with them tomorrow to go over protocol for dealing with the press right now and getting briefed on whatever damage control campaign they come up with, but I thought it’d be best if you guys knew now, so we can, um, discuss it without interference from the PR people or - or judgment.” Keith didn’t miss the way Shiro’s eyes flicked toward him before he continued, “So if you’ve got anything you want to say about - ”

“Yeah, couple things,” Lance said. “First off, does this include, like, just fan photos and stuff like that? Like, you know, if I’m out walking down the street and someone wants to take a picture with the legendary paladin - ” Keith rolled his eyes. “ - Is that allowed? Or does that count as, like, an unauthorized photoshoot? Because I’d kinda hate to deprive everybody of the chance to get their very own personal pictures of this beautiful face, you know?”

“Probably,” Shiro said. “If you do that too often, it may contradict the whole thing about us all being busy and wanting privacy.”

Lance nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, guess that makes sense. Secondly, more of a comment than a question: this is bullshit.”

Shiro sighed. “Look, I know that these measures may seem a little annoying, but - ”

“No, no, it’s not the measures themselves,” Lance said. “I don’t like them, sure, but all things considered, I guess they sorta make sense. They don’t want us adding fuel to the fire, that’s fine. The bullshit is the reason they’re doing it. They decide to just cut off our media presence and drop the subject of the Galra altogether because some assholes are getting pissy about Keith?”

Keith hunched his shoulders, eyes down so as to not have to meet the gazes of the rest of the team. There it was. He had wanted to avoid trouble, wanted to avoid causing any difficulty for the other paladins. But it seemed that it wasn’t an option for him. His very presence on the team was always going to be a problem, one way or another.

“It does seem rather strange that they’re going about things this way,” Allura said with a frown. “Granted, I’m hardly knowledgeable in how Earth’s media or this Garrison works, but if there is such tension over the issue of cooperation with Galra, wouldn’t it be best to address the matter directly to the masses rather than push it into the background?”

“Apparently not, at least not while tensions are so high on the matter,” Shiro said. “Keep in mind, the Galaxy Garrison’s got its media and public relations department and all, but it’s not a news station. They’re not under any obligation to try to raise awareness of any issue or sway public opinion in any direction. Their job is the space program and military efforts, and if staying neutral on the whole thing is the best way to focus on keeping those running smoothly and safely…” He shrugged, and Keith detected a hint of bitterness in his voice when he finished, “I guess it’s their call to make.”

“Yeah, but to go straight from having Voltron be the Garrison’s media darlings to suddenly wanting us out of the spotlight as much as possible?” Hunk said. “Pretty big shift in plans, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid I’m probably to blame for that,” Shiro said. With another sigh, he moved around the chair to sink into it, pausing to rub at the bridge of his nose before continuing, “Even with all the press stuff we’ve been doing, they’ve all been about that battle with Sendak and how Voltron works and the Garrison’s operations. Tensions against the Galra were there, sure, but they weren’t really a point of focus for anyone. When I made that speech at the medal ceremony, I guess I pushed the issue in the spotlight, and also kinda made it look like Voltron was warring with the Garrison over the whole matter. Guess it was a polarizing move on my part.”

“Well, uh, for what it’s worth, I think you did a good job,” Hunk said.

Shiro gave him a little smile. “Thanks, Hunk. But, still, I should’ve thought it through more. I was fired up, and I made a poor judgment call.”

“You didn’t,” Keith spoke up. He didn’t lift his gaze, but he felt the others turn to look at him even without seeing them. “People listen to you, and they gave you a platform and a microphone, and you used that to speak up about something that matters. That’s a good thing. But you - you shouldn’t have had to make a stand about anything at all.”

He took a deep breath and looked up, eyes flicking between his teammates’ attentive gazes. “Look, I, um - I know that having a half-Galra on the team doesn’t exactly - doesn’t exactly make things easier for us. For Voltron. And it’s caused problems before, and I should’ve known it would cause problems here too. I’m really sor- ”

“No,” Pidge cut him off.

Keith blinked over at her. “No?”

Pidge scowled and jabbed her finger toward Keith. “I know what you’re about to do. You’re about to apologize for, what, existing? Being born? Well, stuff it, Keith. You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”

Keith sighed. “That’s not it, I was just going to apologize for, you know, for causing trouble…”

“Yeah, trouble just based on the fact that you’re half-Galra, which is something that you can’t fucking help. It’s not your fault that people are idiots about it.”

“Look, I’m just saying, if it had been someone else on the team instead of me, someone less… controversial... hell, if I just weren’t the one piloting Black - ”

“Then it’s doubtful we would still be alive to be having this discussion in the first place,” Allura finished for him. She tilted her head as she looked at Keith, a furrow in her brow that suggested either sympathy or pity; neither was particularly appealing, but between the two, Keith hoped it was the former. “I know how the people who have this problem with you are thinking, and why they feel the way they do. And I know it’s not right. It… wasn’t right when I was the one who thought that way, and it’s not right now.”

“And, hey, long as we’re talking blame,” Lance said. “Isn’t this kinda the Garrison’s own fault? If they hadn’t pulled Keith out of that ceremony thing, Shiro wouldn’t have made the speech in the first place.”

“They had their reasons,” Shiro relented. “Admittedly, it seems they were right in thinking it was safer to keep Keith out of the spotlight.”

“You saying you agree with them?”

Shiro hesitated. “I… understand their viewpoint.”

“So that’s a no.”

“It’s just us here, Shiro,” Pidge said. “You don’t need to be diplomatic. You can say it: fuck the Garrison.”

“Language, Pidge.”

“Oh, please, I know for a fact that you swear like a sailor too when no one’s around for you to be a ‘good role model’ to.”

Shiro turned to stare at her. “How do you even…?”

“Matt shares stuff, Shiro.”

“Ah. Remind me to slap him later.”

“Will do. Seriously, though, come on. The Garrison’s PR people may be trying to keep the peace and all, but let’s not pretend they’re all-knowing or unfailing or anything. These are the same people who tried to cover up what happened on the Kerberos mission, remember? The ones that claimed you and my family were dead, blamed you for it, tried to keep everything secret when you crashed back to Earth? And now they’re screwing Keith over. Just doesn’t end with these people.”

Shiro set his jaw. “I’m… certainly not their biggest fan,” he said slowly. “But while we’re here on Earth, we’re working closely with them. I’m captain of the Atlas, after all, and that’s their ship. It’s easiest and best for all of us if we play nice.”

“Okay, fine,” Pidge said, crossing her arms. “I’ll play nice, but first you gotta say it.”

“Say what?”

“Fuck the Garrison.”

Shiro rolled his eyes. “Pidge - ”

“Aw, come on, Shiro,” Lance said, a grin splitting across his face. “I said it about twelve times a day while I was a cadet. It’s cathartic.”

“I really don’t think - ”

“Say it or I’ll dedicate all my waking hours to finding every reporter in the city and inciting riots.”

“For the love of - fine. Fuck the Garrison.”

Pidge and Lance both let out whoops, and Hunk even clapped, while Allura simply stared at the lot of them in confusion. Keith couldn’t stop his own little smile from escaping. “Now,” Shiro said. “If that’s all taken care of, guess we’re done here. Officer Hannegan said he’s gonna try to get some candid photos arranged of us helping at a cleanup site, so someone will let you know when that’s scheduled. You’re all dismissed.”

The paladins got to their feet around Keith, some soft grumbling among them as they made their way to the door. Shiro got up from his seat, but rather than leave, he moved to the couch settling down into the corner opposite Keith, who was still stiffly scrunched in place like he had been through the whole group meeting. Once the team was all out of their room and the door had closed behind them, Shiro cleared his throat. “How you doing, Keith?”

“Fine,” Keith answered.

“Really?”

“Mm.” Keith straightened his posture and stretched out his legs. “Really. That… went better than I’d expected.”

“Oh?” Shiro raised a brow.

“Well, I just had thought that - that the others would, uh, you know…”

“Blame you?”

Keith shrugged.

“Yeah, kinda figured you were thinking along those lines,” Shiro sighed. “Pidge was right, though, Keith. If people have a problem with you being Galra, that’s their problem, not yours.” He nudged Keith’s foot with his own and gave him a small smile. “And give your team some credit. They know that too, and they’ve got your back.”

“Yeah...”

Shiro let out a huff of breath. “I know this is frustrating, but - but for now, we’ll try to keep busy. And if anyone gives you trouble, you come to me, okay?”

“And what?” Keith asked, quirking a brow. “You’ll beat them up for me?”

“I’ll give them a scare, at the very least.” Shiro yawned and got to his feet. “Speaking of keeping busy, I gotta meet with the Atlas crew and give them this whole rundown too. You need anything, you tell me, okay?”

“Okay.”

Congratulations, Joss! You’ve been accepted to play Aaron Murphy (previously Aaron Khan, last name changed to fit the new FC’s ethnicity). Your request to change his FC to Bob Morley has also been approved. Please make your page and send it in within 24 hours.

Admin note: Joss, you’re absolutely flawless. You make it very easy to fall in love with your writing, and you’ve given Aaron so much depth! I can’t wait to see him on the dash! - Admin V

IC INFORMATION —

CHARACTER DESIRED Aaron Khan DESCRIBE THE CHARACTER IN YOUR OWN WORDS If you told Aaron to turn out his pockets and show what he’s accomplished in life, you might see it as just empty hands, but to him, being a dealer is the only thing he’s ever been really good at. He’s got learning disabilities, dyslexia and ADHD, that prevented him from ever really settling into a normal life or doing well in school, but when it comes to weed, he’s a fucking prodigy. He can tell the weight of a bag just by looking at it or holding it, he can tell from the smell if product is good or not, and he knows how to spot an undercover cop at 100 yards. His greatest skill is in being able to read his customers. He can tell from the moment you approach him what strain you’re going to need, how much, and what you’re willing to pay. He’s friendly, never tries to force you to be his friend, and always stands by his product. If weed were legal, he might be paying taxes and living the good life at a cannabis dispensary. As it is, he’s the guy on everyone’s cell phone under “Aaron Green”. People usually assume when you say your home life was bad that someone was smacking you around or there was no food, maybe your parents were junkies or crackheads. But it doesn’t have to be that dramatic to be bad. Sometimes your family can just forget you exist. Aaron was one of eight kids and none of them ever really had a chance. He disappeared in among his siblings so that no one ever noticed when he never came home at night. His home was loud, but there was never any real love in it. His parents were immigrants who’d come to America as children and never gotten out of the ghetto neighbourhoods of Detroit. They never had enough money and worked all the time, and when they came home, they would just stare blankly at their children, as if to say, “are you still here?” Aaron doesn’t think they were ever even in love; certainly the photographs never show people who looked happy to be together. Sometimes he lets himself wonder if they were like him, with dreams that they could never achieve and a burning need to do something, and if they just got beaten down by life, but it’s not like he can ask anymore. Chicago was the farthest Aaron could get from Detroit on the money he’d saved up, and it seemed like a town that still had hope, while Detroit was just dying slowly around him. He had a cousin there whose couch he crashed on (Aaron has cousins everywhere, they come out of the woodwork whenever one of them needs somewhere to crash), and a few job possibilities lined up, but he’d get itchy if he got stuck working behind a counter or washing dishes or shifting mail around, needing more stimulation than entry-level jobs provided. If he’d had the money to do training in a trade or something, maybe he could’ve done something with his hands that kept him occupied, or trained to be a tech expert, since he loves video games and can play them for hours if need be. Instead, he asked his dealer if the guy could hook him up with a gig, and one thing led to another. Working for the Costellos is mildly terrifying at times, but it feeds that part of him that needs to move and stay active. He doesn’t deal anything too hard, just weed and some party drugs, and he’s a favourite of club kids and college students for the quality of his product and his innovations when it comes to packaging and branding. He’ll wake up in the middle of the night with a brilliant idea about a new line of edibles like peppermint chocolates for the on-the-go buyer who doesn’t want to overindulge, or flavoured strains of CBD oil laced with hash to give a smooth high without any paranoia, or making their own line of e-liquids for vapes (something he’s very into, do not get him started on the unfair legislation around vaping rights), and spend the next three days making it happen only to crash once his latest masterpiece is complete. He could probably survive without a roommate at this point (though he’d have to live somewhere shady to do so and he’s become a little too comfortable to move back to the hood), but he used the excuse of needing one to let Corinna into his life. She’s the first person he’s lived with that he doesn’t feel anything but uncomplicated affection for, and the idea of having friends that you’re not either also selling to or working for is new and interesting for him. He’s a genuinely nice person (more so when baked but also overall), and he’s always happy to share his groceries or just sit up with her and listen to her talk. He may even someday tell her about his family, though that remains a subject he doesn’t address.   WRITING SAMPLE “Hey, man-bun!” Aaron turned around by reflex, even though someone yelling anything at you out of the blue was, at best, 50/50 gonna be a shitty situation. “That’s what your mom called me last night. At least I think that’s what she was saying, there was a lotta moaning going o-” Aaron didn’t get to finish his sentence, the punch catching him straight in the jaw. He looked like he could handle himself in a fight, but his muscles were all for show. Staggering back, he checked to see if all his teeth were still there. That was one thing that hadn’t gone wrong yet. “You sold me bad shit, motherfucker! Gimme my money back, or I’m gonna end you!” If this had been back in Detroit, Aaron might have taken this conversation more seriously, especially because he’d just gotten punched in the face, but this was Chicago, and he worked for the Costellos. Some little trust fund baby wasn’t gonna roll up on him and try and get a fucking refund. “That’s a shame. You still got the stuff? I’ll trade it in for new shit.” They were outside a bar in Costello territory, and the guy squaring up at him looked like he rowed every day and ate ivy for a living. Sure, he was dressed like he was living that thug life, but c'mon, no one’s teeth were that straight in Chiraq. That was the problem with cities like this, everyone thought they could front. Nobody in the suburbs would’ve even bothered, they’d have probably said please and thank you, but out here, people watched too many movies and thought you had to act like an OG. His friend, cuz of course he had a friend, punks like this never tried anything when it was a fair fight, just stood slightly off to the side and switched between grinning and sneering. “Are you fucking stupid? Did you hear me? Gimme my fucking money now! You’re lucky I don’t call my boys down and fuck your shit up for giving me lousy stuff!” It had gotten to the point where Aaron wasn’t really a street dealer primarily anymore, he was the guy you called when you needed something. He did deliveries and hung out at parties and clubs. When you were selling a product people wanted, you didn’t have to pound the pavement to sell it. But he was doing another favour for Holden. Aaron always did favours for Holden, no matter how many times the other man asked. He couldn’t help it. And normally he could spot an asshole a mile off and choose to refuse service, but Holden needed his quota to stay up, so Aaron had been a little too liberal with his sales tonight. Figures he’d get punched on his night off. “Like I said, I can do a trade if you’re unhappy with the product, but this isn’t a Target, man. We don’t do refunds. So hand over the shit, and I’ll give you some primo Afghani Kush. I’ll even top up the bag free of charge, cuz I wanna preserve our relationship.” The kid wasn’t having any of it. “I already smoked it and it did jackshit! I’m not even high! We even mixed it with some coke and it did fucking nothing!” Oh boy. So on top of assholes, they were idiots too. “You can’t mix it with coke, man. That just ruins both highs. If you’d said you’d wanted something to blend with uppers, I coulda-” Aaron was prevented in continuing with his sales pitch when the kid pulled out a gun. The fucking sikik seemed to think he could draw down in public. Granted, it was a shit neighbourhood, but it was still a Neighbourhood. “C'mon guy, this is a bad move. You really wanna think this one through, you know?” This whole evening was really turning into a bummer. If he got shot by this at hırsızı, he’d never live it down. And he didn’t have health insurance. The kid’s gun didn’t waver, and his friend had pulled a piece too. Awesome. “You coulda just given me the money, now I’m gonna take everything, and I’m gonna kick your ass too, you piece of shit fag-” The conversation ended abruptly with a squealing of tires and bright lights. Aaron jumped out of the way, rolling across the sidewalk and dragging himself up when there wasn’t immediate gunfire. The kid and his friend were now lying in the road groaning in front of a red Ford pickup. The door opened and Holden got out, looking at Aaron with bewilderment. “What the hell happened?” Stumbling forward, Aaron had the sense to kick the guns away from the two kids as he limped over to the truck’s passenger side. “Just a difference of opinion, don’t worry about it. But I’m thinking we talk about moving you to somewhere a little more high-class. This neighbourhood is going to shit.” As Holden slammed into the car and peeled away, the neighbourhood returned to normal, like it had never happened. It was Chicago, weirder things happened every day. Aaron leaned his head against the glass and dug a joint out of his pocket, inserting it between his lips and expertly lighting it with his lucky Zippo. “Don’t smoke that in the car, you’ll make it reek in here.” Laughing, Aaron rolled down the window. “You’re the weirdest dealer I know, man. C'mon, night’s still young, let’s hit Lake Forest and make some money off the preps out there.” Holden, shaking his head, took the turnoff and headed for the suburb. “You ever take anything seriously, cabron?” Aaron winked. “Not unless I can’t avoid it, kaşar.”

Chapter 13: I'm sad because I'm depressed and I'm depressed because I'm sad.

In which Sans remembers why he doesn’t talk about his feelings anymore.

*Sans's POV*

"Do you, by any instance, have suicidal thoughts?"

"i... not that often"

"But you have?"

"i would be lying if i say no"

Papyrus asked (Y/N) yesterday God-knows-what and he ended up knowing what a psychiatrist and a psychologist are, and here I am, talking with a psychiatrist. My brother said that it would be better if I had a new treatment started by a professional on the topic and not by a random monster that calls itself a doctor. Considering that in the Underground we only had general doctors, it was difficult to talk about these matters and get the help needed. Therefore, this seemed like a better option.

Papy spent the night (and this morning) looking for the best option to me, considering that discrimination it's still present. And so he went, asking multiple people if they were open to listen a depressing skeleton being depressed (he obviously didn't say it that way... I think). And so he finally found someone willing to help me, and we head off as soon as possible (hell, we didn't even eat... should I say I'm hungry?)

"Do you have a specific plan to commit suicide, Sans?"

"uh... no?"

"YOU DON'T SOUND SO SURE, BROTHER"

"it's just... i haven't thought about it that deeply. i just sometimes think that i want to disappear and that's it. no idea how, no idea when. just disappear.

"I see..."

The old man went over his little notebook and wrote something down. He was bald and had a white beard almost as pale as my skull, and had a sternum and serious look behind his rectangular glasses. He would be intimidating... if he wasn't a psychiatrist willing to help a monster. How bad could this man possibly be?

"Sans, do you sleep well? And I mean at nights"

"no, sir. i haven't been sleeping well since last year. i mean, i can easily fall asleep, but it's difficult to me to stay that way."

"I see, do you nap at day?"

"heh, a lot if you ask my brother"

"Ok..."

I freaked out for a moment, returning to an odd silence only filled by the sound of his pen writing down my weirdness. I became nervous, not knowing what he was going to ask next. But, honestly, I've been kind of unused to these unpredictable events the Surface has to bring. I was used to hearing the same dialogues and to say the same jokes, but know... everything it's fresh and new. It's scary, but quite a reliever.

"Ok Sans, do you by any chance have any specific dreams or nightmares?"

I froze and cough out the water I was drinking in shock. A quick flashback of the "Genocide Run" went all over my mind, the part of my brother dying repeating itself horribly. The empty look of that kid, the Judgement Hall being my new space... the kid giving up and resetting in front of my eyes, not before giving me a vengeful look.

"Sans? It's okay if you don't want to talk about it yet, but I need to know..."

I sighed, knowing that it was for the best. If I want to enjoy the future, I have to get rid of this fucking trauma.

"i... i do have specific dreams, sir. nightmares, actually. i... i don't want to mention them right now"

Papyrus let out a sigh in disappointment and I gave him a weak smile. I know he always wanted to know what's on my mind... but I just couldn't tell him at that moment. He smiled back to me, making me feel less pressured.

"Don't worry, Sans. We'll go step by step, no need to run all over the details. Still, the fact that you've been having constant nightmares of the same topic it's quite alarming, that's why I needed to know"

He then picked a piece of paper and scribbled some things down.

"This is for the drug store..."

He picked another one, not before drawing a small asterisk on the top.

"And this one is for you"

He then gave me the two pieces of paper and I glanced over them with Papyrus, curious about the medicines.

"In order to deal with your depression, Sans, you'll take a pill of Prozac (or fluoxetine) every morning, okay? I'll determine later for how much time"

We nodded, then glanced again at the paper, reading the next medicament.

"For your insomnia, Sans, you'll take a pill Restoril (or temazepam) every night before going to sleep. This is one of the best pills to not only falling asleep but also keeping you that way"

Before I could even nod, I noticed an uneasy look in the doc's face. I raised an... eyebrow, startling him for a second.

"I'm sorry" he stated, then sighed.

"IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG, DOCTOR?"

"Nothing it's just... the fact that Sans is having constant nightmares worries me. Do you also have constant flashbacks of said events?"

I slowly nodded, and his face got worst.

"DOCTOR? IS IT REALLY THAT BAD?"

"No, it's just... it breaks my heart to know that the Underground may not have been a better place than the Surface"

A better place?

"what do you mean, sir?"

"..."

He just sighed and gave me an apologetic smile, trying his best not to break down. I noticed he was on the edge of tears, and I felt panic running all over my body.

"Sans, there's a high chance you have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or for short, PTSD"

"PTSD?"

"Yes, it's kind of a serious condition to deal with. It shows that Sans had a really traumatic event in his life, and it may seem impossible for him to have a normal life with all the fear he gained from that moment. Or am I wrong, Sans?"

I shook my head, and he gave me a sad smile. Just as he said, just as it is. I never thought it would be that serious, though.

"You'll take Zoloft (or sertraline) for that, Sans... but I also recommend you to go to a psychologist. I can directly put you an appointment with a friend of mine if that's what you want. What do you say? He'll be more than open to hearing your case"

Papyrus nodded excitedly, while I was not too sure. I felt like my normal balance would break down if I started to go to therapy... but then I looked to Papyrus again. I don't want him all worried about me, I want him to have a normal life. And for that, I also need to form a normal life myself.

"sure, may we have the address?"

"Sure, I'll give you an e-mail with it"

We gave the doctor a quick goodbye and a thank you, then head off to our home. I insisted to Papyrus that we could eat something first and relax, then go to the drug store. He groaned slightly and muttered a "lazybones" but took my offer.

When we arrived, though...

"Hello, my children! Where were you?"

Oh fuck.

I glanced over the living room and saw our small group of friends gathered cozily, including an almost smashed (Y/N), an annoying flower screaming, a suspiciously staring father, and more!

...I gulped, knowing I could never say the truth. (Y/N) is a new person in my life, the flower is a bitch, my father is another bitch, Undyne doesn't take anything seriously, Alphys takes everything seriously, Frisk is a dirty betrayer, Toriel worries too much, Asgore would go and make everyone check themselves with the therapist, Mettaton would go and check himself with a therapist, Napstablook would feel all sorry, and Arial would be highly disappointed.

...

Saying the truth sounds pretty awful at this point.

"OH, WE WERE AT THE DOCTOR, MOTHER!"

Oh crap

Papyrus seemed to notice my signal of begging help and came to the rescue immediately, never mentioning anything about a psychiatrist.

"SANS, BEING ALL STUPID, GOT SOMETHING STUCK IN HIS CHEST AGAIN!"

Ouch.

"yep. guess i need some spare ribs at this point, huh?"

Everyone groaned and so I successfully got away from the problem. I tried my best to keep my cool, but I easily spaced out a couple of times and ended up startling myself. They were doing rounds in Super Mario Bros., and (Y/N) seemed to be an expert on it, considering she was on World 6.

"Oh c' mon, when are you going to die?!" Flowey annoyingly exclaimed, foreshadowing a bit. I almost smacked him over before I saw Toriel's face, then I lost myself again on the videogame.

(Y/N) continued playing until arriving at the final castle. Surprising, to say the least. Everyone else was getting enthusiastic about her defeat, but it never happened. Instead, (Y/N) went to play all over again, making everyone groan.

"Oh my God, let us play as well!" Undyne roared, giving a death glare to the older human.

"You said you wanted me to prove how good I am..." She innocently answered, putting the controller aside.

"Ok, you've already proven yourself. Now, please, give us a chance this time" Frisk sighed in defeat, feeling vulnerable and probably fooled.

"Ok!" (Y/N) cheerily got up from the couch, then waved at Papyrus and me "Hi guys! Anything serious happened?"

Shit.

"IT'S NOTHING THAT CAN'T BE HANDLED, HUMAN!"

"I'm glad, how do you feel Sans?" She looked at me worried and made me feel like the worst person on Earth.

A huge part of me wanted to say the truth and confess my problems at that moment, but that was me feeling horrible. I always hated lying, but that's what my life has come to. At this point, I can barely feel sorry for lying...

Except on this topic.

I've always been sensitive with this stuff, and that's how Papyrus ended up knowing. It has become something really messed up that I want to let all the people I care about that I'm not okay. I want them to help me feel complete again. To feel safe. To have hope.

"Sans?"

"HUMAN... SANS... IS IT OKAY FOR YOU IF I TELL HER WHAT'S GOING ON? I TOLD HER SOME THINGS YESTERDAY AND SHE WAS REALLY COMPREHENSIBLE. BESIDES, MAYBE SHE CAN HELP US MORE WITH THE SUBJECT!"

I glanced over her, and she gave me a small and recomforting smile. Out of all the people, I never knew she would be one of those who know what's going on.

"If you don't want me to, Sans, I understand. Just know I'm here to support all of you, ok? And don't take that as an associate... but as a friend. I'm more than willing to help you out in any way I can... but that depends on you"

A deep pain went all over my soul, but then I nodded. If she was so understanding as Papyrus said she was when she heard what problem I have... maybe telling her a bit of detail won't hurt.

"we'll tell ya later, ok? now it's a little bit crowded"

"I understand, thanks for trusting me"

"thanks to you, kiddo"

Thanks to you...

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

*Your POV*

It was a while after the small gathering ended, everyone having to go earlier than expected. I already attended my work-hunting business and find a convincing and small company. I sent them an e-mail, and so I'm waiting for them to text me back. But for now, more important things were on my head.

I feel really sorry about Sans's case, and how desperate Papyrus seemed yesterday when he told all about it. I suffer from some things as well, and I know it isn't easy. It's never easy to deal with yourself...

"HUMAN, SANS, SHALL WE DISCUSS NOW OUR LITTLE SECRET?"

Sans chuckled a bit and I nodded, preparing myself from what I was about to hear.

"OK, SO... YOU REMEMBER THE TALK WE HAD YESTERDAY, RIGHT HUMAN?!"

I nodded again, and he smiled and reassured his brother that he was in good hands. I giggled softly, and the short skeleton just scratched the back of his head out in embarrassment.

"I FOLLOWED YOUR ADVICE, AND I TOOK SANS TO THE MOST ACCESSIBLE PSYCHIATRIST I COULD!"

I smiled, glad that Sans accepted any help.

"What did the doctor diagnosed you, Sans?" I asked, hoping he would be the one answering me this time. After all, this is Sans's main problem, not Papyrus's. He tensed up a little but quickly relaxed as he remembered the presence of his brother there. He took enough courage silently, then spoke with that characteristic deep voice of his.

"depression, insomnia, and... well, something called ptsd, which is-"

"PTSD?!" I interrupted abruptly, not believing what my ears just heard. Sans having depression is hard to admit, but PTSD? Oh lord, what has this poor guy endured in his young life?

"uh... yeah, i... eh..."

Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap.

"Nonono, don't think that way, Sans. It's just... a bit surprising, coming for you. I never expected you to have such a problem, but I guess appearance is quite a bi... beach."

"BEACH?"

"Uh, yeah..." Please come with a good excuse, (Y/N) "You know, beaches may be all pretty on the photos, but the dangerous creatures and natural phenomenons they bring show that they are not that perfect. I guess that's the same for Sans. He easily can go on and hide perfectly with jokes and laughs, but that doesn't mean he's that careless nor happy on the inside... sorry for putting you that way, Sans"

"it's okay kid, i think i get it" he jokingly winked at me, noticing what I was going to say at first. I sighed, feeling pretty stupid at this point.

"Anyways... what has the doctor prescribed you, Sans?"

"this thing called 'prozac', another one called 'restoril' and the last one being 'zoloft'..."

Huh, I have all of those at home.

Maybe I can give him some, considering I have a ton of them...

"HUMAN! SANS MAY BE ON TREATMENT AND ALL, BUT I DON'T WANT YOU TO THINK LESS OF HIM! HE'S AN EXCELLENT MONSTER, EVEN IF HE'S WAY TOO LAZY, BUT HE'S A GOOD BROTHER!"

I saw a slight hint of blue hue spread all over Sans's cheekbones, and I assumed it was blush. I smiled softly, knowing that would be the kind of brothership I would want. Instead, I had the goddamn curse to have no brothers or sisters, and here I am. Alone.

"I would never think less of anyone by this reason, Papyrus" Then I came up with a wild idea, but that mind instantly approved. My smile grew bigger, and I continued "Actually, now that you're confessing me something quite touchy... I guess I should do the same. It may help you to feel a bit more comfortable, Sans"

He raised an eyebrow and I returned to my soft and small smile, preparing myself...

Now that I was thinking about it, it was a bad idea. It was a bad idea to show my weak points, to show my problems, and to show how vulnerable I actually am. But that didn't stop me. And it will never do.

"I... besides from dealing with, well, anxiety, I also suffer from depression..." His eyes widened and tensed up, staring at me with the same shock I felt when he mentioned PTSD. I continued "I have insomnia as well, and... a psychiatrist said I probably had PTSD, considering some constant dreams I have..."

"i... how?"

What?

"i mean, how can you have all those things and still want to help others instead of yourself?"

I stared at him, dumbfounded. Then I sighed with a smile on my face, trying to feel as confident as I could.

"Making others happy is what makes me happy, Sans. And that's what I need the most..."

"To be happy"

Madness is like Gravity - Chapter 7

Warnings: Language, Stalking

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Chapter 7

Emerald’s P.O.V

The next morning Jerri handed me the mail that was addressed to me before making some coffee. I opened the first two, revealing bills. Of course. The last one on the other hand was a larger brown envelope with no indication as to who it was from. I don’t remember ordering anything for myself. I shrugged and tore the top off. I pulled out a single piece of paper that was folded over. I opened it up and recoiled a little. Staring back at me was a picture of Jerome and I. The selfie he had taken the night we robbed a nightclub after our Arkham escape.

The sender had crudely drawn crowns on both our heads. I put the paper down and swallowed hard. Jerri saw my expression and frowned, taking the piece of paper from me. “Looks like your getting fan mail,” she spoke. “I don’t want it,” I snapped. “I know you don’t. But calm down. This is nothing. We’ve dealt with crazed fanboys before Emerald, we can deal with them again.” “You don’t understand. I just want to move on, but it seems every time I try someone else reminds me of him. I loved him and a part of me always will but he’s dead and there’s nothing I can do to bring him back.”

Jerri placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, putting the paper back in the envelope. How had the person even gotten hold of that image? Let alone our address. “Ignore it. If anything, else happens that’s when we’ll do something ok,” Jerri reassured me. I took a deep breath to calm myself. I was still shaken from it but she was right. This was just one thing, it was probably nothing. Besides I couldn’t worry about it too much, I needed to get to work. I’m sure a day of typing up things someone else couldn’t be bothered to would distract me enough.

I arrived at work and sat down in my small square booth, turning on my computer. That’s when I noticed another brown envelope on my desk. I felt panic start to rise again. I forced myself to calm down, it might not be from the same person. It could be and most likely was work related. I hesitantly reached for it and opened it up. This time I tipped it upside down so the contents would fall on to the desk. This time a newspaper article fell out. I felt my stomach churn as I reached for it. It was that creep again, that was the only explanation.

I turned it over to see an article about the night of the children’s hospital gala. The night Jerome died. There was a picture of him on the front, pointing a gun at the crowd, Barbara and I off to the right. Only this time in big red marker pen were the words ‘miss you’ scrawled across the front. I threw it on the desk, doing my best to hold back tears. It was if Jerome had sent it himself but I knew that was impossible. I left my desk and headed to the bathrooms. I locked myself in a cubicle and pulled out my phone.

I looked through my contacts but I didn’t even know who I should call about this. Oswald had more important things to worry about, I didn’t have the money to hire Victor at the moment and he wouldn’t be able to do anything until we knew who was doing it. Ed was definitely not an option. I couldn’t go to the GCPD with this, they wouldn’t care for starters and they probably wouldn’t take me seriously either. The only person I could really call was Jerri. I hit the call button next to her name and held the phone against my ear. Jerri picked up on the fourth ring.

“Shouldn’t you be working?” She asked. “Another one showed up at my work,” I sobbed. “Shit. Was it the same thing?” “No, this one was an article with the words ‘miss you’ written across it.” “Alright, breathe and calm down. Come here now, take the rest of the day off. You’re not exactly in a fit state to keep working.” “Jerri it’s my third week-“ “And you’re going to spend the day worrying and crying at your desk. Come home.”

She was right, I’d be no use in this state. I hung up and exited the bathrooms. I found my supervisor and made up an excuse that there was a family emergency and thankfully they let me go. I gathered my things as well as the article and envelope. I headed straight home, showing Jerri the article. She scanned over it and frowned. “So, this fucker is trying to imply that Jerome’s alive. Obviously, he wants to scare you, that’s fine. I’m sure I can scare him just as bad,” Jerri growled.

“Do you think I should go to the GCPD?” I asked. “And have them turn you away? Emerald you’re an ex criminal and ex inmate, if anything they'll think you deserve this. I'll deal with it. I still have my connections, I'll place some calls ok. We'll get this sorted.” “Ok.” She was right about the GCPD. They would just turn their nose up at me, probably hoping I'd go after the creep and deal with him myself so they could find an excuse to put me behind bars again.

I unlocked my phone and decided to check my emails. My heart dropped as an email from an unknown person appeared in my inbox. Now they had my email? How? Jerri noticed my expression and took my phone from me, opening the email. Her expression hardened and she reached for her own phone. I took my phone back from her, looking at the e-mail. Another picture only this time it was a selfie I had taken of Eddie, Oswald and I. I was smiling looking at the camera whilst both of them kissed my cheeks. The word ‘slut’ was bellow it.

Jerri was talking on the phone with one of her old friends from the club. I checked the sender's address but it wasn't one I recognized, it was probably a fake one too. What had I done to deserve this? I began racking my brain for all the people who I either had a grudge against or had a grudge against me. Tabitha, Doctor Strange, Jim Gordon, Isabella, Ed. Gordon wouldn’t do something like this however so that ruled him out. Doctor Strange was currently missing and probably had better things to do with his time.

The other three however all had reason to do so. I'd confront Tabitha first. I grabbed my coat and told Jerri where I was going before heading out the door. I got in my car and started the engine. The Sirens thankfully wasn't too far away. I headed straight upstairs and over to the bar where I found Tabitha counting money from the register. She looked up at me before going back to the wad of cash in her hand.

“Barbara’s not here,” she said, already sounding bored. “I didn’t come to see her.” Tabitha stopped and put the money down, turning to face me with her arms folded over her chest. “If you’re the one sending me fucked up fan mail, it stops today,” I spat. “What are you talking about?” “I got mail this morning at my apartment and my workplace as well as an e-mail.” “Look I know you still hate me but you really think I care enough about you to dedicate my time to send you shit?”

I glared at her, “you always enjoyed other people’s misery.” “I'd have better ways of doing it if I wanted. Besides I don’t even know any of your addresses, maybe you should look somewhere closer to home.” “You’re not lying to me?” Tabitha rolled her eyes, “no. Also Barbara’s told me I have to be nice to you so like hell she'd let me do something like that.” She did have a point, several in fact. Fine. I turned and left without another word, heading back home.

So that left the two love birds. Maybe Isabella was secretly a crazy possessive bitch and was doing this after the dinner. Maybe it was to drive me further away from Ed. And she was a librarian meaning she had access to old newspapers. Perhaps if I proved it Eddie might leave her. I was unsure of my next step. Confronting either of them wouldn’t be a good idea. I entered the apartment and kicked off my shoes. Jerri was in the kitchen still. “Ok so I’ve thought about who could be doing this and I’ve narrowed it down to two people,” I announced.

“Alright,” Jerri replied. “It’s either Isabella or Ed.” Jerri frowned, thinking about it for a few moments. “Think about it, Isabella is probably doing it to drive a wedge further between Ed and I,” I explained. “You need to be sure before you throw around blame. In the meantime I've made some calls and a couple of guys will be on the lookout for us ok. They'll question fanboys that I know of. It’s bound to be one of them.”

Jerri spent the rest of the day trying to take my mind off the situation. But she knew she was having a hard time getting through. “How about we get Sir Limpalot to look into this? He's got eyes and ears everywhere. For once it wouldn’t be a bad idea, “ Jerri suggested. “No.” She frowned, “No?” “I don’t want Oswald getting involved. This stays between us.” “What about Zsasz?”

I shook my head, I really didn’t want either of them involved. I wanted to handle this myself without them. Prove that I didn’t need them to solve all my problems. Jerri’s phone buzzed and she checked her messages. “Anything?” I asked. “They've asked around but there’s nothing. We'll keep looking though.” I nodded. My own phone buzzed and I hesitantly checked it. A message from an unknown number. Great now I needed to change my phone number. I opened the message only this time there was no picture.

Daddy misses you doll face. Another Jerome styled message. The stupid part of my brain thinking somehow this meant he was alive. Even though he'd died in my arms. Although Fish Mooney had somehow been brought back to life. Maybe the same people had gotten hold of Jerome's body and now he was alive. Oh God if he knew about my relationship with Ed and Oswald he'd kill me. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. I was over thinking this way too much. Jerome was dead, he can’t come back.

I showed Jerri the text and she raised an eyebrow. “Daddy?” She questioned. “Please don’t kink shame me at a time like this.” “We'll talk about that later. In the meantime we're gonna get you a new phone and a new email ok. That's the best we can do for now.” I nodded, forcing a small smile. I’m glad I wasn’t alone through this, I’m glad I had someone. I pulled her into a hug. “Thank you,” I spoke. “Don’t thank me yet. When we find this guy I'll bring you his head.”

@my-world-of-imagines, @edweirdoddlepot, @belathora

Teenager

“Oh, Jesus. The drama starts.” BamBam squealed as he fell back into Yugyeom’s arms watching Nia stroll inside the apartment.

“Bitch, you don’t live here, what are you doing?” Jinyoung stepped forward, with Youngjae right behind him.

Nia gave Jinyoung a smile laced with venom. “No, but my daughter does so you can shut the fuck up.”

Jinyoung looked from left to right and back Nia. “Who are you talking to?”

“I think it’s you, hyung,” Youngjae answered. “But she not that crazy.”

Jinyoung shook his head. “I know she not that crazy, Nia you’re stupid but not that stupid-”

She held up a hand silencing him before giving him the finger. Gasping, Youngjae held tight onto Jinyoung’s shirt as he tried to step to her. Looking from Amina to Jaebum, Nia stood in front of Amina but spoke to Jaebum.

“Can you tell your crew and your toy to leave? We have things to talk about.” She didn’t even look in Amina’s direction.

Placing her hands on her hips, Amina snapped her fingers in Nia’s face. “I don’t know you, and you don’t know me, but what you will do is show me some respect. Come waltzing in here like you some damn body, check your facts cause last time I saw them, you were no one.”

Still not looking at her, Nia set her purse on Jaebum’s table. “Jaebum, I’m asking politely, tell them and this little girl they need to leave.”

“Hair is about to fly, and I’m pretty sure it’s that 30 inches you got on, so no I’m good.” Jackson pretended to toss popcorn into his mouth.

As Yugyeom and BamBam laughed, Jaebum stood up. “You guys can go, thank you for coming, and Mark and BamBam thank you, I will see you guys tomorrow. Amina stays though.” He wrapped his arm around Amina’s waist, moving her from near Nia. “Amina, her name is Amina, don’t be petty.”

“I’m not.” Nia shrugged. “Calling a spade a spade.”

“And you gonna call my fist, dinner.” Amina spat out, as Jaebum held onto her tighter.

“Oh assault, yes that’s what’s adults do, children Jaebum, really? How old is she? 18?” Looking down at her nails, Nia helped herself to a seat, apparently unbothered and confident in the presence of hostility around her.

“I don’t feel comfortable leaving.” Youngjae looked at Jaebum, still holding on Jinyoung.

“It’s fine, I promise.” Jaebum moved Amina along with him as he got them out the door. “I promise, I will call you guys over, and we can discuss this.” As the rest of Got7 finally left, with Mark’s help out the door. Amina stood near Jaebum watching him, her eyes would occasionally drift to Nia who merely waved at her, vexing her even more.

“I don’t like this, why is she here?” Amina hissed to Jaebum.

“We are gonna find out.” Walking back to the table, Jaebum pulled out a chair next to him for Amina and then sat back in his own spot, between them. “What is it?”

“I want to be present at Areum’s birthday. That’s it.” Nia shrugged, her slender neck moving as she showed JB her pearly whites.

“You were hours late to her first birthday, you haven’t shown up any other year, why now?” Jaebum rubbed his forehead, the stress headache from this might put him in a hospital.

“To be a cunt,” Amina mumbled, earning her a chuckle from Jaebum.

“Because…” Nia dragged out. “She is my daughter, and I wanted to see her, she’s five this year, starting school. How is her English? I’ve heard nothing but Korean from her does she know English?”

“So now we’re talking about her education? This could have been done in an e-mail, don’t play me, Nia.” Jaebum sat up staring at her.

“Oh, I’m not.” Nia sat back, crossing her legs, revealing much more thigh that made Jaebum uncomfortable. “It’s easy to play you anyway, this is a different game.”

“Like the picture?” Amina asked. “Did you take that? So you found out where I worked and followed me?”

Nia shrugged, she didn’t answer Amina directly but spoke to Jaebum. “Tell that child that I was at the right place at the right time, I had come to see her but got treated to so much more.” Leaning in close to Jaebum, Nia continued. “Did you know that some of her co-workers thought she was sleeping with Jun, by how they acted around each other?”

“Call me a child one more time.” Amina threatened. “Them teeth gonna become apart of this table.”

Nia rolled her eyes at Amina, she knew what she said would make JB’s hair bristle, and he sat back, one arm on the table a smile on his face. “I knew that only had to be you. Let me guess, you sold it to the press as well?”

“Gave it to them actually, money ain’t a thing to me.” Nia finally looked at Amina. She put a fake smile on her face, pushing her hair behind her shoulder.  “But seriously though, you used to do makeup for iKON right? I heard that you and Chanwoo used to be close. Does Jaebum know that?”

“If it’s in the past why do I care, stop stirring up shit Nia.” Jaebum slammed his hand down on the table, not even earning a jump from the woman.

“Just something to think about.” Wagging her finger at Amina. “Don’t keep secrets.”

“Bitch, I will,” Amina stood up, only for Jaebum to hold on her arm and force her to sit back down.

Taking a deep breath, Nia let it out slowly, her rounded mouth painted red, she turned her head slightly to look at Jaebum. “So, the party, I’m coming tell me where it will be.”

“So you can cause trouble on Areum’s day? Fuck that.” Jaebum waved her off.

“Do you want to tell the courts why I wasn’t invited? When I was making an effort, can you tell them why you wanted to protect your girlfriend’s feelings in the interest of your daughter?” Nia sat up, pushing her cleavage in Jaebum’s face.

Jaebum stood up, pushing in his chair. “You’re a liar. The two are not mutually exclusive. You’re starting up trouble now.”

“Am I?” Nia stood along with him, suddenly she reached out and stroked her hand down Jaebum’s chest. “Come on now Bummie, we used to have fun.”

Shooting up like a rocket, Amina grabbed Nia’s hand and tossed it back to her. “Used to is the operative word there.” Amina quickly came around the table standing in front of Jaebum. “You’ve had your fun, you can go, I’m tired, stressed and hungry.” She stepped into Nia’s face, biting her bottom lip erotically as she spoke her next words. “So after daddy feeds me, I’m gonna get that bomb dick and get put to sleep. Can you leave now?”

Nia glanced at Jaebum, a hint of jealousy and anger flashing across her features. “Have fun with that Jaebum, little girls only please you for so long.” Picking up her purse Nia turned around and headed for the door.

As her hair whipped behind her, Jaebum held Amina’s arms by her side, knowing she was reaching out to snatch it. As Nia reached the door, she turned around once more addressing Jaebum. “The party, I will be there, or you will be receiving papers from me on a new custody agreement. Choose wisely.”

She slammed the door shut, and Amina locked it behind her. “She is so infuriating! How can you stand her?”

“I can’t, but like I said we don’t communicate like that, tonight is the first time in a long time that we’ve talked.” He watched as Amina sat back down on the couch folding her legs under her body. “I’m sorry.”

“For?” As quickly as everything happened and went on, she had forgotten about what happened before Nia showed up, well she almost did.

“Tonight. Nia mouthing off, the guys, everything.” Jaebum made his way over to her taking her hands to make her stand. “I saw her earlier, and Areum was very upset, I’m sorry I didn’t remember you and that I wasn’t there when you needed me either.” He kissed her mouth gently.

“It’s not your fault what happened, it was scary, but not your fault. Areum is important.” Leaning back she looked at JB. “She saw Nia earlier?”

“Yea.” Jaebum sighed. “She saw and heard us yell at each other, cried the whole way home.”

“Poor baby.” Amina cooed, “Maybe tomorrow will be better. I hope so, she doesn’t need all this negativity and all these emotions coming at her either.”

Jaebum put his head on top of Amina’s, arms around her waist as she spoke. He listened to her voice, the sound of her talking about Areum and wondering about her safety and feelings amidst everything that had happened to them both today, especially Amina.

Squeezing her tight, he kissed her head. “You’re perfect you know that?”

Amina scoffed. “Far from it.”

Jaebum laughed. “Still hungry?”

Amina wriggled out of his arms walking towards the kitchen. “Hell yes, what you got in here?”

Jaebum shrugged. “Leftover takeout, but the bigger question is are you still wanting my bomb dick after?”

Over the next week, Nia did what she could to see Jaebum on her own time. Popping up out of nowhere, calling him and to Jaebum being an annoyance that he was thankful that he usually lived without. Jaebum did wonder though if Nia’s appearance had something to do with Amina. He didn’t want Amina to have to worry about Nia continually doing something to hamper their relationship. What if they got married? Had children? He sighed laying his head down in his studio, they had a small concert planned, Got7 did, and he wondered how he would make it until then.

Speaking to his lawyers, he went over the options of going back to court and then getting involved with Nia again. He didn’t want to have to go through the legal system yet, but most of all he was afraid of the judge ruling that Areum had to spend more time with Nia. Nia was often in China but she lived in the United States, on the other side of the world and his heart could not take his daughter being so far from him. He panicked internally at the thought and nearly made himself sick with worry when he thought about Areum being forced to be somewhere he was sure she didn’t want to be. If Areum wished to see Nia, then he wanted her to wait until she chose to do so, not being made to do it.

Nia had a point about Areum’s English, she spoke English about as well as Jaebum did. She understood it, but responding was slow and they both often mixed up words or just didn’t use proper prepositions and…English was hard. He was Korean, living in Korea, and his daughter was half-Korean, English wasn’t that important. The lawyer suggested that as apart of Areum’s culture it could be a point against him.

It was decided then, that Nia would be allowed to attend the party. That was all Nia wanted, she would go on with her life if she could attend the milestone parties, or indeed any birthday party she wanted of Areum’s after this. Seeing Nia once a year would be a pain, but keeping his daughter by his side was a small sacrifice. Sure, he’d be annoyed, but Nia just wanted to vex him, and he shouldn’t give her the time of day. He got angry just thinking about it, she wanted to attend a party, or she’d take him to court for a child she had no intention of seeing the other 364 days of the year.

Taking a deep breath, he got his emotions in check as he looked down at his phone, reading Amina’s text.

Party is tomorrow, is everything ready?

He texted back smiling.

Yes, Areum is excited, be prepared for her to act like royalty.

Amina answered.

Isn’t she kind of K-pop royalty already?

True, she might be, Jaebum thought. Sending her a picture of a man shrugging, Jaebum told her he’d see her later as he looked up to see the rest of the guys coming back into the studio.

“So, Amina has a fire to her,” Yugyeom stated. “I like that, does she have a sister?”

“Yea, she’s 18,” Jaebum answered, watching Yugyeom wonder over the possibilities. “Don’t be nasty, and you’re a hoe, so I say no.”

“I am a classy hoe.” Yugyeom nodded. “Get it right.”

“A supreme hoe, she’ll be into it,” BamBam added.

“A two dollar hoe,” Mark added, causing the others to laugh.

Yugyeom nodded his head. “Yea, but that two dollars your girl is eager to spend.”

“Ohhhhhh!” Jackson cried out, high-fiving Yugyeom as the guys laughed.

These were the moments that Jaebum lived for, surrounded by his friends, no, his family, laughing, making jokes and just having a good time. They were there for each other like no one else was, and he was thankful for that.

“So, what’s the line-up?” Mark asked, sitting back on the couch, two snack bags in his lap.

“Six songs,” Jinyoung spoke. “Hyung, says Teenager is one we must sing.”

“Why?” Youngjae asked. “Not that I mind, I get to hit some amazing notes but I’m curious, I would have thought Moon U was the song to have from 7 for 7.”

“The dance for Teenager is better.” Jackson retorted. “And my rap line is on point.”

“It’s for Amina,” Jaebum answered. “I want her to be there, so I can sing it to her. I feel like that around her.”

“Aww hyung.” BamBam pretended to wipe his eyes.

Jaebum blushed, pushing the younger away from him. “So, I picked one, only six songs for the showcase, what else?”

“How about A?” Yugyeom asked. “BamBam’s hair was amazing then.”

“A damn lie,” BamBam answered. “You know we have to do Just Right.”

“Areum’s song,” Jackson said laughing.

“Ok, so Teenager, Just Right,” Jinyoung spoke. “I think If You Do.”

Mark shook his head. “Yea, good one.”

“I got it.” Youngjae piped up. “Teenager, Just Right, If You Do, Never Ever, Fly and Remember You.”

“I like that.” Jinyoung nodded. “Let’s do that.”

Yugyeom shook his head. “The first songs, are you sure we shouldn’t swap out Fly for I Like You?”

“Everyone loved Fly, more than I Like You.” Mark countered.

“Fly was more popular in the US I think too,” BamBam added.

The argued a bit more over what songs before finally choosing the first set. A mix of dancing and singing skills. As they ran through the songs once more and practiced, Jaebum groaned thinking about dance practice, he’d have to go through hours of getting moves down perfectly again.

It was a life he loved though, with the best people in his group.

Morning found Jaebum waking up to the sound of Areum screaming in excitement as she ran into his room. “Apa! Apa! Look! Come now! Look!” He groggily rolled over in bed looking for Amina who wasn’t there.

“Apa please!!!” Areum pulled his arm.

“What is it?” Sitting up in bed, he rubbed his eyes, yawning.

“Look what Mina did, come see!!” She pulled his hands until he was standing up.

The number of balloons that filled the living room made him wonder how long Amina had actually been up. Pastel pinks, lavender, blue and cream on the floor. A colossal unicorn was standing in the middle of the room, big enough for Amina to sit on, he watched as his daughter ran to it hugging its neck.

“Look at it!!! Look at it!!!” She screamed.

Jaebum rubbed his eyes and noticed that Amina was standing in the dining room, dressed up for the day. She wore a pink top, fitted with sheer sleeves, black jeans, and holographic belt.

Jaebum smiled shaking his head. “Is that a unicorn horn on your head?”

“It is, but isn’t it cute?” She touched the small jewel on her forehead and the spindly horn that came from it.

“You look good Mina, you can be the duchess unicorn.” Still, astride her unicorn, Areum pointed at Amina.

Amina bowed. “Thank you, your majesty.”

Jaebum kissed Amina’s cheek. “This is too much, and you said I was extra.”

“Every girl deserves to have a good day.” Amina smiled, pointing to the breakfast she made. Little unicorn head waffles, the eggs were dyed blue, and the bacon had edible glitter on them. Lowering her voice to a whisper, Amina continued. “Besides, if Nia is going to be there, this is what I want her to remember.”

Nodding his head, Jaebum picked up a piece of bacon testing it, no gritty glitter feeling, he ate the rest and held up his finger. “Gonna clean up, and I’ll be back.”

After breakfast, Areum watched cartoon until it was time for her party to start, Amina had gone home to clean and get herself ready. Jaebum stressed a little at what was going to come this afternoon. He had sent Nia an e-mail about where the party was and what was going on. She had responded saying she’d show up, he just wondered if it was going to be on time.

After dressing up for the party, Jaebum picked up Amina, and they drove their way to the hotel. Areum was singing TT at the top of her lungs with Jaebum sometimes joining in. As they got out, Amina held Areum’s hand, as Jaebum held a few presents.

“So, this showcase, when is it?” She looked at Jaebum smiling as he looked at her.

“Three weeks, I’d like for you to come.” He opened the door to the hotel, ushering his girls inside.

Amina nodded her head. “Of course, where will Areum be?”

“I’m going too, Apa is going to sing my song.” She let go of Amina’s hands skipping towards BamBam as she saw him.

“Her song?” Amina took a bag from Jaebum, as he rolled his eyes.

“Just Right, I swear every time she cried, BamBam and Yugyeom sang it and did the dance.” He sighed. “It’s her favorite.”

“Was my favorite too for a time, but I always liked Mine better in a way.” Nia came from the room, smiling with a glass of champagne in her hand. “Bummie, good afternoon, and Areum.” Nia knelt down as the girl hid her face in BamBam’s jacket. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” Areum whispered, holding onto BamBam’s hand.

“How about we say that in English?” Nia asked the girl.

BamBam sighed. “She can say it in Korean and Chinese, probably Japanese too, stop trying to tell her what to do.”

Ignoring him, Nia continued speaking in English. “Areum, can you tell me thank you, mom, in English?”

Areum looked at Jaebum then at Amina, Amina felt the desperation in the girls’ eyes, hell, her own Korean was rocky, and Areum sometimes corrected her, but to force her was wrong. Especially like this. Areum mumbled in her accented English.

“I can’t hear you,” Nia spoke a little louder.

“Well, I did.” Jaebum and Amina said at the same time. Amina walked around Jaebum to take Amina’s hand as BamBam and her lead Areum into the room.

Standing up Nia was about to stop her when Jaebum stepped in front of her. “Enough. She will learn.”

Speaking in English still, Nia shook her head. “That’s not her mother, she better not do that again. When I’m speaking to Areum, she is not to interfere.”

It took Jaebum a minute to realize what she was saying, he was embarrassed at his own level, and it frustrated him that Nia, who spoke Korean with nearly any accent was doing that. He responded to her in Korean. “Don’t be a bitch, she is five. She speaks Korean and damn near more Chinese than Jackson does. Don’t force her, it’s her day, be nice, be a mother for once.” He turned from her and walked into the room.

The planner did a fantastic job. The Centerpieces were perfect, babies breath in a mason jar with a golden unicorn. Around the edges of the room along the wall, pots were hung in the same manner. Their lights blinking against the gold. The first party table was decoration only, and yet he found himself in awe at how perfectly everything was placed. An ice cream bar was in one corner along with the birthday cake and cupcakes.

As Areum’s friends arrived in their little costumes, the girls held hands and screamed, the boys beginning to chase them dressed as dragons. Jaebum greeted the parents and thanked them for coming, reminding them to also stuff themselves on sugar-laced food.

Amina shook her head walking over to Jaebum. “I am in a fairytale wonderland, seriously I am jealous of Areum, as a kid I might have killed for something like this.”

Putting his arm around her, Jaebum kissed her cheek. “When it’s your birthday, I’ll do you right.”

“Will you now?” She winked at him, just as Ava called her name and gushed over the little unicorn faced doughnuts. “I’ll be back.”

Youngjae sauntered up to his hyung, whistling as he did so. “Wow hyung, when it’s my birthday can I get something like this?”

Jaebum laughed. “Amina just said that.”

“Well, Areum has the best dad I’ve ever known, besides mine.” Youngjae clapped him on his back. “Nia is behaving.”

“For now.” Jaebum glanced her way as she continued to sip her wine.

“She’s plotting something,” Jinyoung said, startling them as he came up. “I can smell it.”

“Probably your breath,” Yugyeom mumbled, earning a pinch from his elder.

“Are we gonna perform?” Jackson asked, doing the dance from Just Right earning a groan from Jaebum.

“Only if Areum asks, and don’t ask her!” Jaebum threatened as soon as he noticed Jackson looking at Areum.

Just then as they started talking to some of the other parents there, someone opened the door, walking over to Nia who she hugged.

“Who is that?” Mark asked, trying to look at the people milling around.

“Oh my god.” Jaebum turned to Amina who glanced at him and then at the man walking towards them with Nia. “Chanwoo.”

“Ikon’s Chanwoo?” Youngjae asked?

BamBam answered. “Yea, that’s him, he’s cool but why is he here? Hyung, you invited him?”

Jaebum clenched his jaw remembering what Nia had said that night. “I heard that you and Chanwoo used to be close. Does Jaebum know that?” Jaebum said nothing, trying to maintain his cool around the people who had come to his daughter’s birthday party, and his girlfriend who was very clearly nervous about him being here.

Approaching the group, Nia put her hands on Chanwoo’s shoulders as he bowed greetings to the members of Got7.

“So, Chanwoo is actually a friend of mine, well him and Bobby, but I didn’t want to be alone, so I invited him. I hope that’s ok Jaebum, but, look here.” Pointing at Amina, she smiled. “You know Amina, Chanwoo.”

The look on Chanwoo’s face as he saw Amina was nothing short of adoration. He smiled wide, waving at Amina. “Hey, Mina.”

“Chanwoo.” Amina stepped close to Jaebum, not lost on Chanwoo as he stared at her wondering why she wasn’t saying more.

“Nia,” Jaebum cleared his throat. “Let’s talk.”

Pulling her away, Jaebum growled. “What the fuck are you doing? This is Areum’s party.”

“Then calm yourself down and let them talk, Channie says they have unfinished business.” Nia wretched her arm away from Jaebum. “She’s a child, and she will grow tired of you soon, she’ll want something new. Something her speed.”

“You’re the same age as me!” Jaebum nearly cried out. “A few days older, what the fuck. Nia, you and he can leave now.”

“Look.” She pointed at them, the guys had dispersed talking to the other parent’s or running around with the kids as was BamBam and Yugyeom’s case. Chanwoo was holding Amina by her elbow talking in her face. She was partially turned from him, speaking about something. He itched to know what. “Just let them talk, maybe you’ll learn something.”

“Why can’t I be happy?” Jaebum asked her. He trusted Amina, he knew nothing would go that shouldn’t have, but damn he didn’t want her in the situation, to begin with.

“Because I wasn’t because I don’t think you should be with her.” With that Nia walked away, she smiled at the guys as she passed them and began to speak to one child’s mother.

Taking a deep breath, Jaebum looked over at Areum. She was oblivious to anything, running around with her friends, playing, eating and having a great time. He wished that today could have gone the same for him, he wanted to believe that somewhere inside her that Nia wasn’t so spiteful, just downright hateful. He wanted to leave, he wanted to go outside scream and cry, just do something to get rid of this negative energy and the feeling of despair, rage, and stress around him. Instead, he looked up to see Amina and Chanwoo in one corner, his hand on her arm and her softening as whispered something near her ear.

Well, time to introduce himself.

Chapter Six

Of Binary Codes and Blue Candies || jhs

Genre: Action, fluff (idk to what extent), gang!AU, humor (if you squint hard enough)

Pairing/s: freelance hacker!You and hacker!Hseok

Description: “Oh my gosh, I lost to you and I’m fracking laughing at it.”  —; part of the Lacerta series

Sequence of events: myg, knj, jjk, jhs, ksj, pjm, kth

Word Count: 4,726

Note/s: Mentions of characters from the other installments of the Lacerta series. Also, I don’t know a thing about hacking. I just researched at the last minute and I’m still pretty sure it’s not 100% enough or accurate. Pretty sure Google is watching my IP address, though.

The e-mail that you received had been shady enough. Yet, you attributed your lack of self-preservation to the fact that you were a month behind on rent and your bills were starting to pile up. So, without any question—just like what the said e-mail instructed—you accepted the job. You convinced yourself it would be worth it since the pay would easily amount to three average-level assignments. And above all else, hacking is delicate work. You’d rather have this one than three more of this for the same price. Or so you thought.

Now that you were staring at the computer screen, however, you couldn’t help but focus on the twitching of your left eye. Anxiety was starting to bubble up, slowly climbing up your throat. You forced it down, trying to keep calm and rational. The network you were tasked to infiltrate... It wasn’t simple, to say the least. Whoever owned it must have been a highly-cautious man or woman, seeing as the difficulty of hacking it was on par with a government system or a worldwide organization.  You took in a deep breath before popping a blue gummy candy into your mouth. Briefly, you remembered it being advertised as ‘organic’, prompting you to think about of that one, memorable school lab experiment with gummy bears.

While you chewed, you could feel yourself slowly calming down now that your mouth had something to do. Your friends had called you out, saying you had an oral fixation or something. You had never heard of such a thing before so you didn’t think much of it. That was, until another friend mentioned that she could match you up with someone who “would make full use and thoroughly enjoy” your oral fixation (which you still deny to this day since it sounds like a load of baloney).

Realizing that your mind had wandered off, you shook your head vigorously before focusing your eyes on the screen. Cracking your knuckles, you decided that it was time to suck it up and get to work.

Of-fucking-course, it would be hard to hack into right off the bat. You already wasted two hours of your life trying but to no avail. Whoever this person was that required your services clearly forgot that you needed some information so you could actually do what you needed to do. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you took deep, steadying breaths before deciding to leave an e-mail of inquiry. You weren’t prepared for the reply, though.

“Oh, are you fucking kidding me now? Really? What have I gotten myself into?” you questioned out loud although no one could hear you.  You read the e-mail again, just in case you were reading it wrong. You groaned when you deduced that you weren’t dreaming and that it was, in fact, real. It seemed that you had drawn the short lot in this life. “Lacerta. Whoever the fuck you are, I am skinning you alive if I ever find you.”

Tracing where the e-mail was sent from had been very tempting but judging the person’s character through the concise and curt messages, he or she must be smart enough not to let a hacker track them down. It was just your luck that you were tasked to go against the city’s most notorious gang. You sent another e-mail, asking if you could drop out of whatever this was. However, the response had been immediate. ‘Think about your decision very carefully, Y/N.’

Great, so now you can untangle yourself from this. Biting your lower lip, you popped another gummy candy into your mouth to de-stress. The sweetness brought a sharp pang to your senses and you positioned yourself again for work. You did your best on gathering information about Lacerta, getting in-touch with your contacts in the field for some help to acquire some data to reduce the time spent on this. The faster you finish, the better.

It was late into the night when the first stage of your hacking job was considered well and truly done. You stretched on your seat, yawning widely. Your eyes burned from reading over lines and lines of information flashing on your computer screen for the past couple of hours. Still, you’re not done hustling. It was time to see the chinks of the proverbial armor of Lacerta’s database.

“Client wants me to hack via the Internet or wireless LAN. The git. Making my job harder than it has to be” you muttered under your breath. What you weren’t admitting was that you were mildly relieved by that. At least, you didn’t have to sneak into wherever their base may be and do who knows what that might get you into more trouble or worse.

After setting up all the hacking tools you thought and knew would be applicable for whatever you had in mind, you collapsed on the couch backed up against a wall. “Alright, time to get some shut-eye, Y/N.”

You nursed a mug of coffee as you blearily blinked at the computer. Now that you had found the weakness in their system, you were determined to set your plan in motion. Yawning widely, you placed the mug down before cracking your knuckles.

“Alright, time to work” you muttered to yourself. Soon enough, your fingers were flying through the keys. The incessant clacking was the only thing heard in the otherwise silent room. And by all means, everything that happened afterwards wasn’t what you expected.

For starters, it seemed suspiciously easy to break into their system. It only took a few rifling and sorting through the data flashing through the screens in your room to find the file you were supposed to extract. Quickly, still apprehensive, you transferred it into your hard drive (your just in case Plan B if stuff happened to you) before completely erasing it from Lacerta’s system. Then, for a wild second, you paused, long enough to attract attention from whoever was keeping their database secure. And yet, no attacks were being launched your way. Either the person on the other side was a really lax one or incompetent. Still, you weren’t about to stay just to get caught. With a bark of disbelieving laughter, you left your signature before doing a scan of your own system, double-checking that you were as clean as could be.

Don’t freak out too much. I’m pretty sure no one would miss someone’s cheating footage, right? — Gray Hat

In retrospect, it was kind of stupid to think that it was the last of it. However, you were sorely wrong, as proven to you three days after that job. You had just paid your rent after your shift down the local restobar when your phone buzzed in your pocket. Closing your front door, you kicked off your shoes as you fished it out. The message flashing on the screen made you stop in your tracks.

From: Unknown Number So, Gray Hat. Let me guess, the dude in the video asked you to remove it, yes? (Received 10:13 P.M.)

It was from an unknown number. You didn’t know how that person got hold of you but it felt like a bucket of ice was doused over you at the implications. Your mind was already jumping to conclusions, thinking you were about to suffer repercussions from the job you took. You bitterly cursed your last client in the confines of your mind before the sudden continuous ping of your phone made you jump in shock.

From: Unknown Number

Either ways, that’s not the point. The point is this

How the fuck did you manage to hack into the database without setting off the alarms I placed

Like

Dude/Dudette (Received 10:14 P.M.)

It only wailed like a siren after detecting the file you deleted without admin permission

Also, is ‘Gray Hat’ a codename or something

Or that’s just you identifying yourself as a literal gray hat

Please answer me

I hope that didn’t sound too demanding (Received 10:15 P.M.)

You decide to address each of his queries one by one.

To: Unknown Number

Gray hat as in the hacker term gray hat

It’s dudette

Also, that’s a secret I’m not sure I am willing to tell

What’s in it for me? (Sent 10:16 P.M.)

From: Unknown Number

Thank god you’re smart

Also thanks for answering

I’m a dude btw just getting it out there

I thought I had to track you down for a one-on-one

So listen (Received 10:17 P.M.)

I have a proposal, gray hat dudette (Received 10:18 P.M.)

You couldn’t help but snort in derision at his words. A proposal? Who in their right mind would agree to an anonymous person’s proposal? The mystery client from the last had taught you enough lesson. You wouldn’t fall for this kind of thing again. Yet, you couldn’t help but read the rest of his texts when you received them.

From: Unknown Number

Would you be willing to

Like hmmmmmm

Meet up??? ?? ? (Received 10:19 P.M.)

Because

I might or might not want to offer you a job (Received 10:20 P.M.)

Staring at your screen for a full minute, it still took you some time before you could formulate a coherent answer. Your hands trembled faintly even as you typed it out.

From: Unknown Number

I don’t know what kind of game you’re trying to play, pal

But seriously (Sent 10:24 P.M.)

Please do stop trolling me 

Delete my number

Don’t even attempt tracking me down (Sent 10:25 P.M.)

I will report you to the police (Sent 10:26 P.M.)

From: Unknown Number

Phew

Thought you blocked me

Although

That’s a funny thought (Received 10:27 P.M.)

What are you gonna tell the police

“The person I hacked is contacting me please stop him”

I don’t think you’ll get out of that complaint unscathed, dudette (Received 10:28 P.M.)

“This fucking git” you vehemently hissed. You were typing furiously when he suddenly flooded your phone again with messages.

From: Unknown Number

Okay you know what

How about this (Received 10:28 P.M.)

Let’s meet and talk in the police station

Just say at the front desk that you’re there to meet Blue

Does that make it better for you? (Received 10:29 P.M.)

If anything, it made you more apprehensive. You exited the messaging app just to check your e-mail for the details. Your client made it clear that it was Lacerta you were hacking three days prior. So, if this male was really a part of Lacerta, what possessed him to suggest meeting in a police station?

You decided to ignore his messages. Chucking your phone on your couch, you went through the motions of preparing yourself some dinner—the usual fare of microwavable food—before settling down to eat it and watch some movies. Soon enough, you forgot the anonymous person who was bothering you earlier as you got immersed in the show you were watching. However, a soft ‘ping’ sounded from your laptop. You put the bowl on the coffee table and checked your e-mail notification. What you found made your heart pound a little harder against your ribcage.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Cute mail address. Also, a friendly reminder that I know how and where to find you. :) (Received 11:54 P.M.)

Fucking hell.

So it went without further ado that you would meet him at the police station, as crazy as it sounded. Heck, even you felt like you were losing your mind at the very thought of a possible member of a wanted gang in a building housing the very people who are out to get them. You unlocked your phone and dug the messages from last night, prompted by the stranger’s unwelcome e-mail.

To: Blue

For fuck’s sake

Alright fine, you git

We already established what you wanted

What’s in it for me

And how do I really know that I am not being conned or anything into this

Be honest or I swear I will start hacking with a malevolent intent for the first time in my life (Sent 11:55 P.M.)

From: Blue

Wow

You type fast, woman

Also

We’ll be paying to pay you whatever amount you are willing to work for (Received 11:56 P.M.)

But within reason!

We don’t shit gold nuggets okay

Also a heads up

You might or might not end up working with me 

As for reassurance that you won’t be hacked to pieces (Received 11:57 P.M.)

There will be a police officer waiting outside of the station

He’ll be sporting an outrageous hair color

Like

Neon yellow (Received 11:58 P.M.)

Tell him that you’re there to meet Blue

He’ll take you inside

If he doesn’t he has a gun in a holster strapped to his hip okay

If all else fails, pepper spray is the way

So see you tomorrow, Hatter (Received 11:59 P.M.)

You reviewed the messages again before looking straight ahead. The light changed and you crossed the road, feeling your nerves spike up gradually. The police station was a few blocks away and your steps grew considerably slower, displaying your reluctance. Still, at least it seemed that Blue was telling the truth or maybe it was coincidence. A person in a police uniform was standing right outside the doors leading to the station. He wore a formidable scowl... which was a contrast to his neon yellow hair. People stared as they passed by, to which the man only scowled further.

You were worried his face will disappear and cave into itself when he scowled even more when you approached him. Feeling a little silly, you hesitated. However, you remembered the messages you exchanged with Blue. Steeling yourself, you opened your mouth and boldly said, “I’m here to see Blue.”

His face slackened for a moment. You worried you got the wrong person when he suddenly blurted out, “No way, it was a girl who hacked into Lacerta?”

That instantly made you bristle in anger and frustration. It seemed that there was still some prejudice against women. Also, his choice of words and his tone felt a little too depreciating and condescending than you liked. Squaring your shoulders, you raised your chin haughtily as you hotly retorted, “Is there a problem, sir? Maybe you’d like me to dig deep and accidentally unearth your secrets just to prove my skills? But then again, I don’t have to prove myself to narrow-minded moose like you.”

“Narrow-minded—? What the fu—”

“Officer? I was under the impression that you were here to escort her inside, not insult her with your deep-rooted sexism due to societal stereotypes. Hatter, good to see you, by the way. I thought you wouldn’t come until I saw you pass through one of the CCTV cameras lining the path.”

You blinked blankly at the man that suddenly appeared, the door beside the police officer held open as he looked at you expectantly. The first thing you noticed was how excessively blue his outfit was. Still, it looked good on him. Pastel blue button-up and dark blue slacks. Then, you realized he called you ‘Hatter’, the moniker Blue from last night called you.

“Blue?” you tentatively called him. You were rewarded by a blinding smile. You fought the urge to hold a hand in front of your face to block your eyes from the brilliance. He jerked his head, wordlessly inviting you inside. Sneaking a glance at the officer still scowling at the two of you, you squeezed yourself into the narrow opening. You tried not to brush against him as you took in the interior.

“We’re going to talk in the conference room. Hey, Detective! Tell Namjoon not to bust a nut just yet. Hatter just arrived” he called out to one of the people milling around in the station, a woman giving him something between a stink eye and a look of amusement. Her gaze casually slid towards yours, her lips quirking to a smile.

“A word of advice: you really don’t have a say in the matter. Just skin him alive with the benefits you’d like to receive” she told you. The two of you watched her walk away while tapping on her phone.

“Right, let’s get inside” he said to break the silence that settled awkwardly. “This way, Hatter.”

He ushered you inside the conference room and closed the door, isolating you from everyone else. You noted, with a wave of relief, that the blinds weren’t closed and the door wasn’t locked. It meant that if anything went wrong, someone from outside would see and you could make a quick escape. Your attention was caught when Blue cleared his throat.

“First off, you can call me Hoseok or Hobi. I don’t care about the honorifics or what unless there are other members around us” he started without preamble. “Also, if you want, I can keep calling you Hatter or you can share your name to me. Your choice, really.”

You snorted at that, unable to help yourself when you replied, “I’m pretty sure you did a background check on me already, Hoseok.”

Hoseok raised an eyebrow before smirking in amusement. “I see that you’re blunt and fast to pick up on things. Great. So, I’m offering you a job in Lacerta because a.) we’re kind of in the middle of a... thing right now and with the way you hacked into our system, your skills impressed me—impressed us—and unanimously made the decision of contacting you to hire you for that. Also, because we need someone else to help us in that thing that I mentioned.”

“Translation: I’m useful and it would make more sense to hire me than kill me. Next” you nonchalantly said. Hoseok shot you a look for interrupting him but nevertheless continued.

“Anyways, b.) I’m asking you to please say yes because Namjoon will throw me into a river full of alligators if your decision is otherwise. Look, I was sleep-deprived during that time and he was furious that I let such a slip-up happen. Please, save my ass. Like what Miss Detective said earlier, you can skin me alive with the benefits that you’d like to receive.”

You gave his pleading look a hard stare before deeply sighing. “Alligators only eat dead things” you mumbled.

“Is that seriously the only thing you caught from my rant?” he asked you, narrowing his eyes a little. You rolled your eyes and leaned on the table, pinning him down with your eyes.

“What does this... job entail?” you asked almost hesitantly, afraid that it might ask more than what you could possibly and are willing to give.

Immediately, he answered, “It just a behind-the-scenes thing. You’ll do what you do best: hacking. You won’t get to be sent on the field. Don’t worry about that. However, you might have to talk to Lacerta members at times.”

You frowned at how vague his description was. Unsatisfied, you crossed your arms and prodded further, “Don’t be so stingy with details. What else am I supposed to know.”

“All other things are classified unless you agree to work with us.” He paused for a moment before saying, “But all I’m going to tell you right now is that we need you because we have a conflict with Cepheus right now.”

He simply took in the disbelieving expression on your face. Cepheus? As in the rumored rival gang of Lacerta? Maybe you were in deeper shit than you thought. Still, you were still thinking of the money and benefits. You weren’t about to shoot his proposal down just because of a little danger. After all, what is life without some thrill?

“Based on what you saw of my skills, how much are you willing to pay me to work for you guys?” When he rattled off the amount, your eyes went as wide as saucers before blurting out, “Holy fuck, sign me up. Just please, can I have a bodyguard to accompany me at all times? Also, keep my family out of this.”

“What happened to skinning me alive for benefits?” he joked.

“I will, just much later when I can think more properly. Also, there’s no contract on paper yet. We’ll need that if you’re going to hire me. I refuse to go by words.”

He nodded in assent. “Alright. Also, there’s a spare room in our main house if you feel like your current place is less secure.”

You merely raised an eyebrow at his words before standing up. “I think we’re done here. I have to go now. My shift at work starts in less than two hours.”

He hummed before saying, “I’ll send you a draft of the contract later via e-mail. Also, we might need to meet again to clearly outline what you can do, will do and are to do while you work for Lacerta.”

Just before you could say that you understood him, a figure right outside the room caught your attention. Without warning, Hoseok yelled loud enough to be heard outside, “I sealed the deal, okay! Stop hounding me, Namjoon! That was just once! Never again!”

You jumped at the sheer volume of his voice, clapping your hands to your ears to muffle the sound. When he was done, you shot him an aggravated look before dryly commenting, “A heads up would have been nice.”

He huffed and muttered, “Sorry but that asshole needed to learn how to stop watching and hovering over everyone like a hawk. That’s Namjoon, the gang leader.”

“Oh” you supplied, more shocked by his usage of the word ‘gang’ than the actual information itself. He simply smiled, as if he found something funny before shaking his head in amusement.

“Alright, I won’t keep you for longer than necessary. See you next time, Hatter. And you’ll have to tell me how you hacked into our system by then” he said. You smirked wryly at the reminder as you moved to the door.

As you opened it, you paused and turned towards him. “Y/N in private, Hatter in public. I’d like to keep my anonymity. Also, I want a Jacuzzi in my bathroom."

“How do you know your room has a bathroom?”

“The twitch of your nose tells me my guess was right. See you, Hoseok.”

He spluttered. “Are you seriously asking me to basically do a renovation—”

“I am technically saving your ass” you said in a singsong voice. “Told you I’m not done skinning you alive for benefits.”

And then you shut the door behind you, leaving a Hoseok who was halfway between amused and exasperated at how things were turning out.

Your bowl of blue gummy candies was depressingly empty and you sulked like a kid as you stared at it. Settling into Lacerta’s main house was a little harder than you thought. what with everyone freely carrying their weapons around the house. It was safe to say you were terrified to your wit’s end during the first three days. It was more than a week now since you first arrived and had finally felt a little more comfortable. Still, the realization that you just willingly got yourself into this mess boggled you to this day. Munching on your candies had been your way of de-stressing even when the job assigned to you was simply just monitoring and storing the devices and the system Lacerta was tracking. However, you didn’t realize that your favorite food was gone until your fingertips hit the bottom of the bowl.

This was how Hoseok found you inside the computer room, scowling and pressing the keys of the keyboard harder than what was necessary. He took a moment to glance around the room before settling on the bowl on the desk.

“Blue gummy candies, correct? The one that tastes like mixed berries?” he asked. It made you stop whatever you were doing instantly and abruptly turn to face him.

You looked at him in confusion, not noticing he interrupted your work as you asked, “How did you know?”

“I eat the same stuff, too. I keep my stash hidden because the others like to dip in and empty my bowl out” he casually remarked. He unlocked a cabinet underneath his desk with a key, brandishing a larger bowl, filled to the brim with the same gummy candies you adored and loved. You watched with large eyes, uncaring when Hoseok laughed. “Go on. We can share this.”

You settled into a harmonious silence then. You monitored and saved data. Hoseok sorted through them and read through the ones that seemed important. He wrote down some notes on a pad of sticky paper and would often stick them on the corkboard on his side of the room. After some time, someone slipped into the room.

“Hey Hoseok hyung, have you figured— Oh, candy!”

Before he could get a single piece, you have swiped the bowl away. The young man looked at you with a shocked expression as you hugged the food tightly to your chest. You frowned at him while Hoseok struggled to breathe from laughing hard.

“Jungkook, don’t bother. Hatter is having sugar withdrawals and she won’t be sharing any time soon” he told him. Jungkook merely pouted before moving away from you, peering at Hoseok’s notes instead.

“Hmm, look’s like we’re on to something” Jungkook commented. “I can see a pattern but I can’t connect point A to point B.”

“I thought I was the only one thinking that” Hoseok said, relief coloring his voice. While eating the candies, you watched the two of them as they conversed and made guesses on what could Cepheus’ next move possibly be. You took the time to study your (un)official work partner from head to toe. At first glance, it was easy to deduce that he was attractive. However, you also noticed how lithe he was and how graceful the lines of his body were. When he moved, his body was fluid and light. You also didn’t miss the muscles that shifted under his clothes, evidence that he didn’t spend his days simply sitting in front of computer screens.

“Y/N? Am I your latest science experiment? I’m not used to the probing look.” Hoseok’s voice snapped you out of your reverie. Your eyes darted around, only to see that Jungkook already left. Upon seeing his amused smirk, you flushed and turned away, mumbling a ‘sorry, lost in thought’. You pointedly looked at your own screen with determination and continued working with vigor. You heard him chuckle and hoped that he wouldn’t mention anything about your stare from earlier.

“How are you settling into Lacerta so far?” he asked casually. You briefly stole a glance, only to see he was still looking at you. The smile was still there and it made you flush even more in embarrassment.

“Good, I guess.”

“Really? I just noticed that you eat a lot of your gummy candies when you feel stressed” he pointed out his observation. It made you flinch lightly, realizing you weren’t being as discreet or careful as you thought you were. “If it helps, you can talk to me. Rant or something. Just give me a heads up if you’re about to cry.”

You laughed at his words before lightly saying, “Nah, don’t worry too much. That was just me working both my mouth and mind at the same time.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “So you mean to say, you’re overthinking and stress-eating because of that?”

When you gave him a sheepish look, he chuckled before telling you, “Don’t worry too much. Happens to the best of us. I’m not about to hound you for more details if you don’t want me to pry.”

“Thanks” you said with sincere gratitude. He merely replied with a smile, matching yours before giving you a salute. And then the two of you returned to your work.

“You look good in blue, by the way” you offhandedly complimented him but you didn’t miss the grin he was shooting you from your peripheral view.

“I think I’d have to whip out my signature blue slacks then. I just discovered when and where Cepheus planned to meet some of their ‘investors’.” He shot out of his seat and was at the door in a blink of an eye, hollering down the hallway.

“Namjoon hyung! We struck gold! It’s time to get Seokjin’s pretty face out there.”

Hi! I studied illustration and graduated this year, now I'm trying to get my foot into the professional illustration and character design world. My work goes more into the spooky and pulp art direction, I'm also quite introverted and have social anxiety and you seem like an introvert too. I just wanted to ask how you deal with interacting (mails, phone calls) with clients and I'll glady take any tip how to find clients in general and to network. I just feel like I don't really know how to start.

Hi there! Yes, I’m an introvert as well. And socially anxious. All that stuff you’re mentioning right there sends a shiver down my spine. So let me tell you about how I deal with it ...

But let me tell you, we are not uncommon in the art community! Back in school I was warned being an artist would be twice as hard because I’m horrible at selling myself (ok my work, but the lines blur nowadays.) and it made me feel terrified of the future. There was safety in knowing I could always work on my craft and get better at it, but I’d never been able to figure out to be that outgoing person I thought I needed to be. (My whole time at school was pretty much people telling me ‘you’re good, but you’re quiet, so you’ll never be good enough. Over. and over. and I never managed to change and it fucked me up good.)But, as I said, lots of illustration folks are introverts and a lot deal with anxiety issues. It’s good if you can find a forum of working pros (facebook groups, etc) that talk openly about problems they face, so you can realize once and for all you’re not the odd one out and a bunch of the people you admire and thought had it all figured out have been hiding and crying in hotel rooms, too, if that one convention that was supposed to be life changing turned out to be too much to handle.Also, praise the internet! There are basically no phone calls to make! Writing e-mails … well, that one gets easier! You end up having to write about similar things a lot of the time and learn some go to phrases (if you are very clever you can write and save some template mails, e.g. for what your quotes are, things people ask you a lot in interviews, etc. to save some time!) and start caring less about every mail to be perfect. It also gets easier to weed out the mails that are worth an afternoon of composing and which are not.When e-mails are especially scary and I have a lot of emotions and feel I need to answer without much delay, I boil my reply down to the essentials. What is the person actually asking? People often write a lot, but really they only ask: Are you interested in this? Are you available?So I just answer something like: Hey XYZ, thank you so much for reaching out! I’d love to be part of the project. Could you please fill me in on the details?I sometimes feel bad basically ignoring 80 % of an e-mail, but often it’s simply not relevant at the time. Just make sure you *do* filter out the important information/questions. (Asking for details when the e-mail is filled with everything you need to know doesn’t make sense. But quite often people try to gauge interest to see if they need to continue looking before they take the time to delve deeper into it.)If people ask you for a quote, feel free to simply ask them for their budget in return. My e-mailing solution is usually keeping it polite and to the point. The simpler the better.I used to not write simple ‘thank you!’ or ‘got it!’ e-mails and write only when I had something I felt was worthy contributing because I didn’t want to disturb the busy people I was working with, but I noticed people did it to me and it’s just nice for them to know the e-mail got through and all. And it really doesn’t disturb most people. So I do it now.Generally, for a lot of e-mailing questions and art business questions in general I can only recommend checking out @dearartdirector where you have a bunch of art directors answering your questions. Make sure to see what they have answered already before asking away! They’ve already covered A LOT. It’s a super valuable resource and I have some of their answers, especially for e-mail communication, saved in my favourites here on Tumblr for reference.Oh and let yourself some slack. There’s a learning curve. Sometimes having WRITTEN that scary e-mail is the most important part. Just get the ball rolling. There’ll be so many mails more … and if you need to do a silly dance after sending a scary email, do it. Nobody’s judging. Unless you have a cat.So, phone calls. They usually don’t happen. If people want to call and it’s for a book cover or something similar tell them no and that you’d rather have all the information in writing. Which is better anyways. For your records and because it’s much harder to misunderstand or forget something typed. Now, I’ve had phone calls happening this year for my tv work. Sometimes it’s quicker to receive feedback and explanations ‘in person’ and people call. They’ll ask up front though and you can set a date/time. Nowadays you can usually opt for Skype, too, which was possible with one team I worked with, which I was very grateful for. Skype is for some reason easier for me than phone calls, probably because I feel more in control having the screen in front of me and being able to see other people’s expressions, gestures.Before the first call I was still incredibly nervous. Chattering teeth nervous. I couldn’t concentrate the whole effing day. But the job paid well enough that I could risk deciding to tackle nothing besides the call that day. (I made other plany for the day, but nothing important and I was fully aware I’d most likely end up not doing it. It was more a gentle … when you feel up to it, draw. But if you need to watch 4 hours of Netflix and then spend an hour writing down your worst fears to get through this that is absolutely FINE.) I know myself by now. Stuff like this will keep me from being functional for the whole day, so I won’t force myself to be it despite it all. Keeping it easy, prepare what I can, most of all deep breathing.The calls got less anxiety inducing with every time and I even started to look forward to them because the team was lovely to work with and I loved the job. (And it felt so professional! Like. Yes, fill me in on the news. I got this covered. Expect sketches in a hour. Expect final on your desk tomorrow.) So know what you can expect of yourself, don’t bring yourself down. You’re good at other stuff. I’m great at working by myself for a long time and it makes me grow fast as an artist. I’m not good at phone calls. One of these things is MUCH more important to find work.Nevertheless, I had to do an actual phone calls with another team. It was horrible. The people were perfectly sweet, but that phone was basically gliding through my sweaty fingers. Make sure to get all the important info in writing even if they’ve explained things to you on the phone. Even if you took notes. even if you’re afraid they’ll think you didn’t listen to them. Or are stupid. Better safe than sorry. I once didn’t catch that other people having a meeting was meant as a deadline for me which ended in one very relaxed evening and one panicked all-nighter to make it in time. So rather than do that write a ‘thanks for the talk, can you confirm this info I noted down, thank you’ e-mail. Especially when you’re like me and a part of your brain just shuts down when on the phone. (On the phone I can forget my name and birthday.)Finding clients … well most clients have found me. I’ve e-mailed some art directors I’d like to work with (find that address, Write ‘Hello, I’m an illustrator, would love to work with you some time, here’s a link to my portfolio. Maybe add 2-3 (low res) jpgs.) and sent out postcards, but I’m not good at doing that regularly and most jobs come from people finding my work on the internet. So submit your work to blogs and magazines (e.g. illustration age), be active on social media. Put your e-mail address somewhere where people can find it easily. I’ve actually had some good job inquiries from people who’ve found my work on Behance. I update that portfolio maybe twice a year, so it doesn’t take as much effort as Facebook or similar sites.Oh this got quite lengthy. There’s a cup of tea getting cold somewhere …Seriously, check out that Dear Art Director blog. It is invaluable info, no matter which part of the industry you want to work in.

Peloton News – G17 tour – Halfway between the Sun and the Moon.

At least once a year for the last 6 years, we have been away on a cycling tour.

It all started with JT and I and a trip to Majorca.

Here’s a fact for you, long brushed under the carpet of time. I actually arranged most of the riding and routes on the first trip. Yep.. I did.

I Google-Earthed each route to make sure it was an actual road and not some farmer’s track. I mapped them, Garmin’d them and then sent them to JT.

All was well.

Some of the iconic long-time favourites were first born here. Col De Sa Batalla, the decent into Soller.

There were also a couple of howlers in there too. The strip in Magaluf… not my finest cartographical moment. JT trying his best to hide his ‘WTF-face’ as we glided down the main strip on a casual Saturday afternoon. Since this point, his patience his shortened considerably and his control-freakery at all things planning has well and truly taken a Japanese knott-weed grip on the roster.

I didn’t mind handing the planning gauntlet back in all honesty. It’s easy enough to do, but the absolute merciless hammering you get from the baying Peloton should you as much as put a wheel wrong takes what little shine there is off the whole process. That and the constant squeaky-wheel that is our diminutive friend, always asking for a progress update. He would see it as delegation…. But that would assume that some level of responsibility had passed to allow minor decision making…

‘Big assumption’ the little man would no doubt counter.

At times I’ve felt very much the beaten-wife…” I just do it to keep him happy… you know… for a quiet life and all that”

I say all that though… but I know that deep down… every member of the Peleton loves his ruthless efficiency at planning and organising. For most of the team, all that is required of you is to follow a list of instruction on what to pack (I mean, it’s like a professionally guided tour, it really is) and then turn up at an airport on the time written in the e-mail (plus numerous reminders).

Turn up, go where told, cycle, arrive home. Bosh. That’s it But, as long as Gaudeix are going on tour, JT will plan it and sanction the decisions, I’ll sort the caps and the shirts (for the Grande Tours) and then completely exaggerate everything via the printed word and everyone else will turn up and contribute to making these trips what they are… a great experience. Each and every one.

This edition of Peloton news will take a slight departure from the usual recounting of tour heroics.

Yes, I will be covering some of the big moments as we work through the following process…. however I feel a slight shift in format is required to keep things a little fresh.

‘Feedback… it’s the breakfast of champions’…well, so sayeth an old Peloton laggard…. a man who hasn’t edged his cycling beak out of the comfort of his nest (meringue?) for some time.

I couldn’t agree more.

In my stationary cupboard team (I’m proud of each and every one of them), we have deep and intensive feedback sessions…. Not so much your classical 360 degree feedback (i.e. the ‘to me, to you’ type session so favoured by many a progression management guru). No, I like to call mine the 180 sessions… I tell ‘em what I think… if they know what’s good for ‘em, they listen. Easy.

And so my little Peletonistas…. The price of a tour ticket is a seat at the 180 degree listening post. Pin ‘em back please, I feel wisdom a coming…

Dripping

Pros

·      Excellent preparation this year.

·      Did the most miles

·      Talked up his ‘yellow cap’ chances (more to follow on that subject)

·      Didn’t bonk

·      Looked like a giant in some photos

·      Has invented a new shade of pink (Dripink)

·      Didn’t crash

·      Shouted extra rides

Cons

·      ‘Yellow cap’ effort…. A little like that old Morecombe and Wise sketch… all the right clothes… just in the wrong order…

·      Still surging (although much enhanced ability means he now troubles those ahead as opposed to those behind)

·      Still saying a ‘hail Mary’ on every landing. “I always say it and we always land safely”… difficult to argue with… I’ll let Macca stew over the best way to explain correlation

·      Animal cruelty or butchering a pair of beautiful white leather Rapha shoes…. Which is the most morally disturbing?.. … answers stapled to a cat to the usual address please

JT

Pros

·      Got yellow (just).

·      Solid riding

·      Down-hill ability in marginally sketchy conditions was excellent. I watched whilst tailing him. Unusual.. but in mixed conditions, he’s too fast for me.

·      Booked the flights… did all the initial ride prep a couple of years back when he was in one of his awkward ‘between jobs’ situations…. You know the ones…. where he gets rumbled for extracting cash from a large corporate, then somehow manages to get even more cash from said corporate and then lands a promotion with another corporate… who export him to solve a problem (but still give him cash)… realise he ain’t letting go… and then…(it’s a strange noise if you’ve ever heard it)… the corporate just sighs… JT rubs one dry hand against t’other…. And the family moves on. (As an aside, I’m running a book on JT retiring at 50, golden handshake, golf handicap down to single figures, member of an exclusive club…. 3/1. I’m hedging that with an outside bet with the local bookies that sees him busted for snorting coke of the arse of a transsexual rent-person…8/1). Still… he asked for and took no credit for any of the planning this year…. but he deserved it. Well done sunshine.

Cons

·      He still likes to gently wake me at 3am by drinking 2 pints of water in a way you would imagine a parched elephant with a heavy cold might attack a half empty bath…. Seriously… I thought internal organs were going to felch from his nose…

·      People-tolerance levels still only marginally warmer than sub-zero

Damo

Pros

·      Every year we see a little bit more of the true cyclist. Crushingly consistent at the top of the pack

·      Nearly aced yellow as well as pink

·      Aced pink (not just a wrong righted from the year of JT’s catastrophic ‘we’re leaving the Euro’-type pronouncement either… )

·      Shoes

·      Bike

·      Bike

·      Bike

·      Cannondale

·      Bike

·      For Damo.. was surprisingly un-grumpy…and… rode back more than once for a straggler.

·      Bought me breakfast a few days later

·      Relentless replaying of the ‘red nose’ gag on Moley. It was a narrow bandwidth of attack, but it was superbly executed.

·      Cyclist mentality

Cons

·      Has a habit of being dismissive of exceptionally difficult rides. I remember Paris Roubaix… My Comment: “Fuck that was tough eh Damo… I ain’t doin that again…ever”……reply: “was alright.. I’d like to do the full route. It’s only as hard as you make it”.

·      A quiet Mr Sock this year

Macca

Pros

·      Well kitted out… as per…

·      New shit on his bike (it’s like a ‘where’s Wally’ game with Macca… we all know he’s got new shit going on…. But who can spot it?).

·      Consistent riding from the Robot

·      Bought me lunch and talked soothingly to me at the airport. Thank you Macca.

·      How the fuck can a man have that much time off work, not cycle and lose weight… I mean what the fuck…. If I had had a quarter of the ‘leisure time’ that our flying man has had… I would be the size of a house… even our old chum Amesy… he has to work 14 hour days just to keep his biscuit habit the right side of obsessive.

 I genuinely think Mark is half-man, half-machine. I’m going to have a chat with his roomy, Damo. I have a theory that when he goes to bed, he secretly plugs himself in to charge. You can bet your he’s got an Apple lightening connector…. Perish the thought that he would have something as vulgar as a kindle re-charging point.

A little like his over-sized iPhone charging case, Macca has additional spare batter capacity. We saw it a few years ago when he dressed all in white and revealed his penis to the world. (I say penis, on reflection I think we’ve found his charging point.)

Cons

·      Less tolerance than Trump (or should that be fewer, Mark?)

·      Has perfected the withering look (closely followed by the sarcastic smile). This little beauty is normally reserved for Dripping and I when we have the temerity to propose some sort of cycling knowledge… I mean… the very thought….

·      One of 2 people who constantly correct my grammatical meanderings. (In my view apostrophe’s should be used gushingly and with abandon)

Colchester Mac

Pros

·      Enthusiasm

·      Enthusiasm

·      Enthusiasm

·      Dug deep and rode consistently

·      Nearly witnessed our joint demise atop Stelvio… who’d have thunk it… both nearly killed by a motorcycle falling from the sky

Cons

·      Shouting 2 words and 2 words only at Italians (‘Bon journo’… I can still hear it at night when I listen to the wind on cold evenings)

·      Descending as if riding a tandem. Why have the safety of distance when you can have the knife-edge of proximity!

RTA

Pros

·      Very very nearly got Pink.

·      Very strong riding

·      Modest

·      Sacrificed the most difficult climb… one he would have aced.. to support Drip… top effort RTA and it didn’t go unnoticed.

Cons

·      Only one thing here to see folks…. The fake home-made Rapha shoe.

Moley

Pros

·      Took the stick from Damo with broad shoulders

·      Always smiling…

·      The seminal tour moment for me goes to Moley.  Day 3 had me looking deep into my soul… I’ve never crested a more difficult combination than Mortirollo followed immediately by Gavia. I genuinely think it took me near to my cycling edge of pain. But Moley… he laughed in the face of my anguish and he went deeper…. I’ve never seen a man so wracked by the utter effort and ensuing exhaustion… the day Moley crashed through the saloon doors atop Gavia, cowboy-style, slumped down in his seat…. Tears in his eyes, will live with me a long time….a truly heroic effort. No one worked harder that day.

·      Best bike bag by some margin

Cons

·      Starts talking about his chances of winning pink a good 6 months in advance

·      He has publically confused the sun with the moon. Tricky heavenly bodies to differentiate, admittedly. One a sphere of hot plasma, about 300,000 times the mass of the earth, accounting for 99.86% of the total mass of the solar system…. The other a debris strewn dead lifeless satellite with a reflectance marginally greater than asphalt…. I mean it’s a tough spot even with a sharp eye….

 And finally….. me

Pros

·      Didn’t fuck up the planning

Cons

·      Nowhere near enough mileage

·      Didn’t make nearly enough of the Moley ‘moon/sun-confusion’ moment

·      Nearly killed a man in a wheel chair along with the pensioner pushing him

  …and there we have it. Another one is under the belt and locked into the memories

My final reflection takes me back to Damo’s comment in the Alps a couple of years back….

‘Wherever you are, be there’..

When I ride in the mountains and I look up…I am always, always there. Always. The high mountains…..my favourite riding.

Tour selection for G18 will start shortly.

Ride safely my little fuckerettes….

Hoppo

Season 2, Episode 2- “Heart Me”

hey, it’s me! here i am, back at it again. (i’m gonna aim for once a month with these, because, like, emotionally i am not down with spending 4 hours a week doing nothing but analyzing csi cyber. i have shit to do. like not watch csi cyber.)

if you’ve lost the plot a bit, i’ve got a list of all my recaps here. some quick stats for people who don’t want to read all that shit

times the writers didn’t actually know how computers or other electronic devices work- 65

times someone should have been fired or arrested for bad policing or hacking- 45

times brody should have been sent back to jail- 7

van der geek death toll- 4

times the writers forgot how time works- 22

times the writers forgot how the police works (for example, that there are other police and fbi divisions, including people who are qualified to do CSI shit)- 28

times i wanted to steal krummy’s lunch money- 53

times they used the holodeck that they invested millions of taxpayer dollars in- 4

times they use l33t sp34k to convey that someone is a hacker- 7

times vdg is a bad parent or partner- 13

times avery does bad psychology- 33

characters named ricky skaggs- only 1, unfortunately

times IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU- ALL OF THEM GET OFF THE COMPUTER

Triggers for this episode- alcohol, stalking, blood, drugging, kidnapping, basic entitled dude bullshit

we open at a hot, hot nightclub that's apparently an old castle or some shit. It's full of attractive young people drinking and dancing and using apps, so you know shit's going to go down. Raven is there with a friend, Tracy, and she asks tracy how she found this place. Tracy used an app to find it, so she's going to be the victim in this episode. She tells raven what she's been missing working every friday night- namely, “major male hotness.” man, i've really missed the csi cyber writers interpreting things that an actual human being might say. While they chat about the male hotness, some guy hearts them both on heartmate, an app which is not at all like tinder. They make fun of him for being a loser, a skill that raven needs to leverage more often in her professional life.

just as they team-reject this guy, some guy walks up behind tracy and hits on her. He asks if he can buy her a drink, and she turns him down, and he's like “hey that's cool I go to alcoholics anonymous” and she's like “samesies” and it's kinda weird and uncomfortable. He tries to pick her up, but she tells him she has a boyfriend, so he fucks off out of there, giving us a nice view of the fact that, in this incredibly packed busy nightclub, there's a solid 10 feet of space between the bar and any people. Tracy laughs and reveals that she lied about having a boyfriend to him. “But this guy,” she narrates as a guy hearts her on heartmate, “unf, hell to all the yeses.” these writers! They're so good at talking to people! The guy who hearted her walks over and starts nuzzling her, and rejected club guy watches from afar, glaring.

Afterwards, raven and tracy leave the club and hop in a cab. Rejected club guy opens up heartmate and clicks onto raven's profile. He somehow uses the distance feature to track her down, despite them being in a cab and him being on foot. When he gets there, he calls the police to say that he's worried, because his neighbour might be in danger and the guy's still in there. Oh, you sneaky boy!

a swat team breaks into raven's apartment, where tracy is sleeping on the couch and raven is apparently full naked in the bedroom. Wait, how did he know what apartment she was in? There is no way that heartmate is that precise in distance tracking, and even if he saw them through the window or something, I think “my neighbour is in trouble, I heard gunshots? Oh, where she lives? Uh, let me find a street number…. Yeah I don't know her apartment number, but I know the window faces the street and I think it's the third floor….” would not raise some questions.

one week later, raven is chatting with brody about the SWAT team. Brody, I know it's casual friday, and apparently permanent casual friday for you now, but I think you still have to wear your id. He asks if she knows who called the team, and she teases him because apparently when the swat team was called, he snuck out via the fire escape! Wait, what? Did she go home with tracy then call brody over to bang? Or was he waiting there all night in her apartment all alone? We know they're not roommates because apparently the knowledge that they were in the same apartment would be trouble, even though they're talking loudly about how they're totes magotes banging in their workplace, but whatever.

meanwhile, avery is looking at a tablet in her office, and db walks in with a baby binky in his mouth. Oh, so this is going to be one of the weird fetish episodes. Db says that he didn't get them so mommy avery could give bad baby db a spanking, but actually because they're bluetooth enabled and can detect the baby's temperature, location, and what medications the baby had. I don't know why he bought seven of them, but, like, whatever, you do you, dude. He asks how avery's doing, but before she can answer, van der geek wanders by to tell them that they have an update on the “infamous” (a word which here means that we've never heard his name) garth rizzo. You know, normally i'd say this guy might be a friend of ricky skaggs, but idk, he seems like a rat to me.

garth rizzo is otherwise known as “the most hated man on the internet.” he runs a revenge porn site called shamedexxx.com, which kindly places big black censor bars over the women's tiddies. Wait, even with the censor bars, is it still fine to just bring up porn on the big screen in the cybercave? Why did they have to give his website the hit? Anyway, vdg makes a point of how he really, really wants to arrest this guy, but he hasn't actually done anything illegal yet so they have to prove he's been hacking people. You know, guys, far be it from me to criticize vdg, but, like, this is the first time ever in his life that he's ever given a shit about due process. It's a bit weird that the first time he doesn't just show up and tackle a guy to the ground is the porn guy for jilted exes. I'm just saying, mister “i know what it feels like to want to murder your ex-wife!”

they explain what revenge porn is, and then raven glances at her phone so avery tells her to leave while they go through all the victims, track them down, and contact them to get their devices and see if they've been hacked. This guy hasn't even committed a crime yet! Are there seriously no proven hackers left?

raven goes to get a latte with tracy. She's been having hella computer-based problems. Her utilities were shut off, then her mail was put on hold via an online form (oh, no, not the mail! Like, seriously, it's been a week since they met club guy [also spoiler, it was probably club guy what did it] and it's 2015, it's not like anything important comes in the mail) and then she got fired from her job for sending an e-mail to her coworker about how she was going to tell his wife about the affair they were having. It's notable that he did not get fired for that same affair. Finally, two days ago, she got kicked out of her apartment, because she apparently e-mailed the landlord and requested to end the lease. I am not an expert on DC rental law, but I think 5 days isn't enough notice for your landlord to completely shut you out of the apartment. Did he get a new tenant, despite not showing the apartment to anyone because otherwise she would notice? If not, why would she not just sign a new lease under the same terms?

Then she went to the cops, and the cops told her that they couldn't do anything because she didn't know who hacked her. That's, like, the best cop-work i've seen ever? “sorry I know there has been a crime but I can't help you because you have not already solved it on your own, and we can't kick it to the cyber division because they're too busy tracking down every woman in revenge porn on the internet to see if they've been hacked.” raven offers to check out her computer and shit to see who hacked her, and just then her phone gives her a notification to let her know that her bank account has been emptied. Because that's a thing that happens, I guess.

meanwhile, back at the cybercave, vdg is telling someone on the phone that they're being unreasonable. He then gets back to work immediately, but avery stops him with an “elijah, there comes a point where whatever's going on in your personal life starts to reflect on your work.” yeah, and that point was halfway through the last season when he started emotionally abusing coworkers, destroying physical evidence, and committing some pretty serious police brutality because he was mad that his wife wanted to get her dream job and take the daughter that she was more or less raising on her own with her, but you were pretty much down with that noise.

It turns out that he was on the phone with his father, who had been refusing cancer treatment. This is a pretty personal and nuanced issue, which vdg boils down to “it's not fair to MEEEEE that he's chosen to go gently into that good night.” how dare he, when he could be taking care of my daughter for me!

time for a sick cyber-montage, in which raven hacks into tracy's bank accounts! We see that, instead of just transferring the money out, the hacker purchased several expensive things that just happened to add up to the exact amount left in her bank accounts. That takes skill. I would have expected the bank to call her about it, because usually banks do that when you spend several thousand dollars in three minutes, buying multiple TVs in one transaction, that sort of thing. She could also call the bank and explain that she was hacked- oh wait shit never mind I forgot that would make sense. Or maybe that cop from earlier also runs the bank. Who knows.

Anyway, she finds an odd ip address. The hacker is a guy named kyle bristow, which raven tells avery. Avery goes “listen, one case of bank fraud doesn't require the whole cyber division.” no, avery, it just needed raven, and she solved it. The rest of the cyber-division can keep working on trying to find what this one guy who is, I cannot emphasize enough, innocent of everything except being a scumbag, might have done wrong. Avery agrees to send van der geek out, as long as raven stays to work on garth rizzo.

vdg's gun is out! He sees a blood trail leading from kyle bristow's front door, which is oddly even and symmetrical, but stops abruptly at the end of the walkway. He runs in, gun out, and sees that someone's murdered kyle before he got the chance. Rough day for vdg.

Kyle was murdered by being beaten to death with an ugly bookend he had on the mantelpiece. Vdg wants to give this case to the actual police, but avery says that raven proved he was the hacker (because it's not like the hacker could be his wife, because girls don't know computers) so there's a cyber element to this case so it belongs to the csis cyber. Kyle apparently had two phones, one of which was a burner phone with heartmate on it. Far be it from me to judge a cheater, but if you're going to cheat on your wife, why not use your real phone and hide the app somewhere? It's way less suspicious than just having a whole other cell phone. The heartmate phone has some very angry messages from tracy, with the positively incriminating messages of “DUDE. UMMMMMMM – you're MARRIED????? WHAT. THE. HELL.” and “You lying, cheating bastard. Is this some sort of sick game????? You're gonna pay for this. I could seriously kill you.” so they conclude that tracy is the murderer. Then we see tracy with blood all over her hands flashing back to the crime scene.

Intro at 11:26, although really we could stop here.

the definition of the week is cyberstalking. It's like stalking, but cyber! Thanks, csi, we needed that one spelled out for us.

raven and krummy are calling people up about the revenge porn. Krummy's entire interaction goes “I'm pretty sure this is your photo. Yeah. There's a naked photo of you online. No, this is not a prank. I'm an agent with the FBI. Hello? Ehhhhh well.” you got your typical-krummy-asshole-behaviour in my trying-to-deal-with-society's-objectification-of-women! Do they not have some sort of civilian-facing staff who could be doing this, instead of getting the best hackers in the world to waste time doing a job they're not qualified to do?

Raven is stressed because tracy, and krummy goes over to help, but raven takes the first opportunity to talk to literally anyone else. Unfortunately, that means van der geek, who tells her that tracy probably did a murder because she used to be an alcoholic. JUSTICE

for those who are interested in a sweet krummy cosplay, you can get his shirt here.

tracy leaves her motel room. How did she get a motel room? She has no money. Club guy is waiting outside, and follows her in his car after she turns her phone off. Once she's out of the area, he calls the police again to say that he found a murderer!

meanwhile, brody is explaining online dating to DB. Brody refers to the burner phone as kyle's sidepiece phone, and DB clarifies “side piece phone? You're saying that tracy was brody's mistress?” for any square old white dudes who may be watching. Kyle and tracy had been talking for a month, and she had been asking to meet for weeks. They then go over the messages we've already seen, because the episode needed padding. It turns out that kyle had also told tracy he was starting to fall in love with her, and DB goes “without ever meeting?” and brody goes “welcome to the world of online dating.” I mean, like, as someone who has dated online, it's a lot more likely to get unsolicited dick pics than love confessions, but hey, whatever, i've never been on heartmate. Nelson explains how tinder works, and then uses a girl as an example of how the app documents how often you cross paths, without noticing that the app also says she is literally 10 feet away from him. Db tells him to heart her, because apparently it's cool if the whole cybercave is a hotbed of fucking. Db is not into online dating, and tells brody that he's more into waiting for serendipity to strike. Brody asks if serendipity is an app. Get it? Because he's young! And they only know the apps and how to disappoint their elders!

raven is getting interviewed by the detective on tracy's case about how they found the murder weapon in tracy's hotel room, and she gets mad and says tracy was framed. She also lies about brody being in her apartment. Apparently they found tracy's fingerprints all over the crime scene. Raven leaves, and The detective then gets mad at avery and says that she needs to pass the case onto the police, because there's a clear conflict of interest on the cybersquad. We're supposed to think he's the bad guy for this. Avery says that it's clearly a cybercase, because it involves a computer, and that regular cops can't solve it. You know, it might help if there was another cybersquad, because apparently being on the cybersquad means that you will need to help solve cases that are directly related to your coworkers. Then again, I guess another holodeck that they never use would be a big investment.

The csis cyber legal guy tells avery that she needs to get on garth rizzo so he can close the case file, because if garth rizzo gets arrested for non-revenge-porn reasons, that means he can start lobbying for stronger revenge porn laws. That's… that's not how things work. You can still push for somcething to be illegal, even if the guy who does it hasn't done any other crimes. No wonder the legal guy is so chill about everything that happens in the cybercave, he doesn't actually know how laws work.

meanwhile, in the cybercave, we see that the only time that kyle's real phone and his burner phone were in the same place was at his house during the murder. They figure it out by tracking the data points on the heartmate app on both phones, despite the fact that kyle supposedly didn't have heartmate on his real phone.  That, and the fact that he types in lowercase on heartmate and using proper grammar with his wife, mean that the phones were used by two different people. They have to prove it with science, though. DB yells “Microbials” and runs the fuck out of that joint.

meanwhile, raven is telling a woman that her photo has been used as revenge porn. “i took that photo years ago,” the woman says, as a photo comes up in which she looks exactly the same, down to having the same makeup and hairstyle. It looks like she took the photo hours ago. Anyway, revenge porn is still bad and raven promises to hack the devices.

db is using everyone's unique face-germs to prove that the burner phone hadn't been used by kyle. “microbials are a new identifier, as unique as fingerprints.” Wait, why can't they just use fingerprints? That's still a thing that exists. Anyway, the germs are different, so the burner phone wasn't kyle. Glad we finally solved that mystery that the viewers have known the answer to since the beginning of the episode. Avery concludes that all the data from the sidepiece phone was all “cyberstaged.” we have a word for that, avery. It's “staged.”

club guy, meanwhile, is calling tracy's mom, pretending to be a detective. He asks where tracy is, and her mom tells him that she sent her a money transfer. What a garth rizzo.

at the cybercave, they're narrowing down who the catfisher was. They refuse to use the word “catfish” for some reason. They use the data from heartmate instead of the regular cell phone location data for some reason. He was following tracy around a bunch, so they triangulate the heartmate connections that aren't with tracy. Avery looks at his fake profile to psychoanalyze him because she hasn't done that in a while. “he chose kyle's photo. A handsome man, because our target has low self-esteem about his own appearance.” or because you don't catfish with ugly people, you dingbat. Some rando drops by a tablet that says kyle didn't do the hack, but that the hack came from a computer at a frame shop. Looks like tracy was FRAMED YEAHHHHHHHHHHHH. nobody makes that joke and it’s upsetting.

at the frame shop, they confirm that the hack was made from the employee computer and that he used a photo of kyle that he had brought in to have framed. They could have compared the schedule that they got from the heartmate matches with the employee schedule and catch their guy, but this episode still has a solid 20 minutes or so.

Wait, why would you catfish with someone who lives in the same town? That's asking for your mark to go up to the person in real life if they see them around and try to start up a conversation. they do realize that, like, there is a whole internet with pictures of pretty people on it, right? Here's my human lie detector analysis- this guy is bad at his crimes.

raven is stressed about rizzo and tracy, and has some emotions like “what if i'm wrong about tracy?” this loses some impact because we know objectively nobody in the cybersquad is ever wrong.

Tracy drops by the convenience store to get the money her mother sent her, but the transfer was cancelled- sorry, cybercancelled. She only has ten dollars in her wallet, and asks how much a sim card is. What a coincidence, it's exactly ten dollars! When she goes out to put the new sim card in her phone, however, club guy puts on a baseball cap and goes to talk to her. Oh, no, he slashed her tires and she has no access to money and he's offering her a ride!

She gets in his car, and he starts getting weird about meeting at the club, so she turns on the phone with the new sim card.

Cut to Brody and Raven, who are hanging around the cybercave. A computer beeps nearby, because they've been tracking tracy's heartmate profile. As raven helpfully explains, heartmate will keep tracking you even if you get a new sim card! Wait, why would she spend her last ten dollars on a new sim card, then? That's not even something that really plays into the narrative. Anyway, Brody goes to call VDG, and raven gives him this look which I guess is supposed to be concern but comes off more as “wait, vdg? Do you want her to fucking die?”

club guy, meanwhile, is getting all weird. “so, how's your boyfriend? Must be nice to have a boyfriend? Someone you can trust? Because he isn't a LYING LYING SLUTFACE? Have you ever heard of the red pill?” luckily, the cops track her down and bring her in and she looks completely freaked despite the fact that, you know, she's at least 10% safer in prison. 20% if VDG isn't allowed in.

tracy gets interrogated by avery. She says she didn't kill kyle, but she doesn't remember anything because she blacked out and she keeps seeing images of his body on the ground and lots of blood, so, like, not the most watertight of cases. Avery tells her she was catfished, without ever using the words “catfished” because we can only use one new term this week and we needed cyberstalking spelled out to us. She pulls up a picture of all the guys who work at the frame show, and tracy points club guy out for us. Turns out his name is holden. She doesn't mention him going all serial killer on her, which I think is a relevant detail in a murder case. Turns out holden was catfishing for weeks to find out that tracy likes amy schumer, tupac, and watching tv in her Pjs. Tracy is completely shocked that a guy on the internet who she has never met and who didn't send any more pictures besides his propic is not who he says he is, because she grew up in an amish community or something, I guess.

avery tells the legal guy that tracy clearly didn't do it. It's clear that she was drugged and holden got a hotel room, took her unconscious body there without anyone noticing, and planted all the evidence! Wait, how did he get the hotel room? Most hotels won't let you use someone else's credit card to check in, and she was out of it. If she even had a credit card- she seemed pretty convinced that the ten dollars was her last. Did he get the room with his own credit card? How did that not come up in the investigation? He then sent the messages from tracy's phone after taking her from the scene, which can be easily verified as false given that heartmate tracked the time she was at kyle's house and presumably also tracks the time messages were sent. But, like, they're not going to do that for some reason. I guess that's giving up.

avery goes to ask nelson and krummy if they have any evidence that tracy didn't do it, and they don't, because she was at kyle's place in the window of his time of death. Avery yells enzymes and runs out with db because talking is for the pre-cyber era.

It turns out that db's got an experimental testing method to test the enzymes of kyle's muscles so that they can determine the exact time of death, and it's proven that tracy didn't do it. Avery then goes to db and is like “wait how experimental is this?” this was your idea, avery!

yay, tracy's free now. Raven comes out as an fbi agent to her, and she's chill about it. Tracy gets a new phone and laptop that are completely hackproof, and they give her a hotel room. Hurray!

meanwhile, van der geek is driving his daughter, michelle, home. He Is a bad enough dad that she asks “why didn't grandpa pick me up from school? Is he okay?” because it's completely unthinkable that vdg could do some gotdang parenting without his dad being dead. Vdg, being a good comforting person, tells her, “yeah, it's cool, he's just asleep.” she asks if they can get ice cream because it's friday and grandpa always got ice cream on fridays. Wait, what? The club night was explicitly on a friday. Then, when tracy met with raven, it was also a friday. The next day was when all the stuff after that happened- we know because VDG told raven that the murder had happened yesterday. And this is the day after that, which means it's sunday. Is michelle trying to trick her dad into getting ice cream? You're gonna be a great cybercriminal someday, kiddo! Hack time itself! Anyway vdg starts crying and michelle comforts him and it's very heartwarming, but we never know if they do get ice cream.

in comes the legal guy, to point out that the enzyme thing isn't going to fly in court. Yeah, if only they had an exact time for all of tracy's movements and proof that the messages were sent from her phone later. Anyway, avery's all “it's not recognized now, but it will be in the future! There's real science to back it up! You know I do things in an unconventional way!” he still gets mad because they let her out on this experimental evidence, instead of the real evidence that exists. Like, I can't stress this enough. There is evidence that, at the very least, she left the area way before sending an “alright i'm walking in the door now” text. That should at least shed some doubt on the story.

tracy is walking down the street, and gets a text on her new hack-proof phone about how she looks good in blue but she should be wearing an orange jumpsuit. Turns out holden found her anyway! She calls raven in distress, and raven is all “that's impossible!”she goes to krummy, who explains that holden was actually tracking raven, and he followed raven into the fbi, and then used a cell catcher to get tracy's number. That sounds wrong but whatever, i'm not a tech guy. He's got a fake heartmate profile by the name of brad, so raven calls tracy up to let her know not to contact anyone named brad and to just stay in the hotel room. I mean, like, tracy, don't pick anyone up on heartmate. Now is not the time. I don't care if you want to show off your swanky hotel room.

tracy is bad at listening. She opens up a new heartmate account by the name of “amy” and tells “brad” she wants to meet for a drink in 20 minutes. Wait, what? Why? Why would you do that? You're under police protection! You don't need that! Holden accepts, because, yeah, he's spent a month tracking this chick and has finally stalked her down to her hotel room, but might as well take a break to buy a shitty margarita for some rando heartmate girl at 3 pm. You've earned it, holden.

Tracy also steals a box cutter from the hotel lobby on her way out, which is fucking rude. Luckily, avery comes in to let them know that tracy never checked into the hotel, and raven opens up all the heartmate users' locations to figure out that tracy made a fake profile.

so they track down holden, which is easy enough and I don't know why they didn't do that earlier. Tracy's plan was to just walk, like, ten feet behind him and then stab him on the street, so raven stops her from stabbing him and holden is under arrest and tracy isn't going to jail for anything, even though she was just about to try and kill a guy despite being pretty much safe from him. Hurray, all the people we're supposed to like are gonna be okay!

Avery says “let's get tracy home” despite the fact that, you know, tracy doesn't actually have a home. Raven asks how avery found her, and it turns out that avery slipped one of db's  tracking pacifiers in the pocket of her jeans without her noticing. Has whoever wrote this episode ever worn women's jeans? You're not getting a penny in those shitty pockets without being able to feel it.

in the elevator, avery talks to vdg about his dad and he says he's real sad. Then she goes to talk to db and chides him for doing the enzyme thing, despite the fact that it was her idea. Avery, you're a bad boss. They talk for a bit about how the infamous garth rizzo is still at large, so I guess that the season villain is gonna be a guy who has not yet done any crimes. Then db mentions he keeps getting push notifications on his phone. Turns out brody created a profile for DB on soulmatestop.com, against his express wishes! It's not even a free site, it's just on a free trial period! DB's username is “dollabill” and brody and krummy go “DOLLA BILL YOOOOO” and it's…. this show is bad, guys. They make comments about db's virility and he says he's not comfortable with the situation and the show fades out on this blatant workplace harassment. Catfishing is cool when you're a good guy!

So, the tumblr site crashed the first time I wrote this out, so I had to rewatch the episode to make the commentary again. And you know what? This is a boring-ass episode. No wonder it took me a year to get to it. At least it had some half-decent basic social commentary, wrt entitled dudes. I guess they had to get all the good good social justice shit out there before the next episode, because that's the black lives matter episode and, guys, it's not good. It's a bad time.

Logging off the cyberweb, see you soon.