#and yet nobody added the Worst Mags Ever

[rune-writes]

Holiday Cookies

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

Shinra Holiday 2020 » Day 1: Bake it til’ you make it

Word count: 1834

Rating: G

Summary: Elena isn't the best cook. As she is trying to make holiday cookies for Tseng, Reno walks in on her.

Note: A bit late, but here’s my entry for the Shinra Holiday 2020 event. This is also my first time writing the Turks, so hope you enjoy :)

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~

“What are you doing?” 

Elena jumped at the sudden voice. Her hand that was stirring another batch of cookie dough jolted to a halt. She knew that voice—that arrogant, half-amused, in perpetual teasing voice. As though he had the entire world in the palm of his hand. Reno stood in the now-open doorway, one brow raised in question. 

How had he found her there? Elena had asked to use the kitchen in the dead of night when all the kitchen staff had gone home. They’d let her, albeit begrudgingly, and lent her the key, making her promise to make sure no one came and stole food from the pantry. Apparently they’d had a case of a thief for several nights, and no, it hadn’t been a rat. 

“Good thing I’m not Tseng, though, right?”

Reno’s scoff brought Elena’s mind back to the situation. At the tilt of her head, Reno made a deliberate scan of the chaotic counter between them. Flour was strewn about, with splashes of milk and butter and egg, and in the center of it all was a plate stacked high with burned cookies. 

Elena’s face went red with mortification. 

“It’s not like no one knows,” Reno went on. “Except Tseng, that is.”

He crossed the kitchen, then sat on a stool he pulled from beneath the counter. He picked a cookie from the top of the stack, burned black and cut into what was supposed to be a gingerbread man, but the edges had crumbled, leaving only a decapitated head. Reno’s smile was crooked, but before Elena could warn him, he had taken a bite off the head. The grimace came almost immediately, his brows scrunched in disgust. 

“What is this?”

Elena looked away and continued stirring the dough, willing her heated face to cool.

“If you’re thinking of giving these to Tseng, I suggest you think twice before—”

“How did you get here?” She cut him mid-sentence. She didn’t need his lecture to know how badly she’d messed up her first batch—and second. And third. Besides, it was two in the morning and she had locked the door. 

“I’m on standby,” Reno replied, as though that justified him visiting the pantry in the middle of the night. “Figured I could swipe a chicken leg or something.” Elena half wondered if he was the one who’d been stealing food, but the thought stopped midway when she heard a soft crunch from behind her. 

Her hand paused. Did he eat another? Those ruined, burned-black, disgusting cookies? Her heart had sunk at the sight of them when she’d pulled the tray out of the oven. But she’d figured the taste mattered more than the appearance and had taken a bite from a tree-shaped cookie. She’d almost gagged. Her second batch had come out still burned, but at least it was edible. Still not enough to present to Tseng, though. 

“You, on the other hand,” Reno went on. Elena glanced at him. He tossed the last of a star-shaped cookie in his mouth, his grin turning wry. “Didn’t expect you to be the sneaky type.”

“What do you mean sneaky?” Reno waved the cookie as if to make a point. Then he eyed the mess on the counter. Elena’s frown deepened. She set her bowl down and turned around to face him, her hands on her hips. “For your information, they let me borrow the kitchen. Unlike someone.”

“At least I didn’t spend a week’s worth of cooking ingredients.” He picked a cookie from the top of the stack, one of the edible-looking ones, and bit into it. His brows drew together, but he still gulped everything down. “Imagine what the chef would say once he sees his storage is empty.”

Reno was exaggerating. Elena was only into her second bag of flour and had only used half a bag of sugar and several eggs. They were only a fraction of what the kitchen staff used daily. She doubted they would even notice. 

“They know I’m making cookies,” Elena said in defense of herself. 

“Bet they didn’t know you’re only just trying it out.” Reno picked another cookie from the plate. He inspected the round and plain chocolate chip, his lips pulled into a deep scowl at the black surface. “Tell me, did you follow a bad recipe, or are you just a plain kitchen disaster?”

“If you don’t have any constructive criticism to give, the door’s that way.”

“I’m just saying.” Reno tossed the cookie back onto the plate before picking another—a cane-shaped cookie with white icing on top. She’d hoped it could have masked the burnt taste, but she’d made the icing too salty. “Don’t be too ambitious if you don’t have any baking experience, and—” Reno swiped at the icing and licked it off his finger. He didn’t bother to hide his revolt. “Don’t mistake sugar with salt, please.” 

That was only one time, though now a bag of icing lay in waste on top of the counter. That would earn her an earful from the head chef. 

Reno exhaled a loud, exasperated sigh. He pushed himself off his stool then moved around the counter, taking the mixing bowl from Elena. “You don’t have enough flour,” he said with a click of his tongue as he tested the gooey consistency of her batter with the spatula. He pinched a little of the batter with his finger, and Elena held her breath as she watched Reno taste it. “At least you used sugar this time.”

“Of course I did!”

He glanced around, then grabbed the measuring cup sitting next to the flour bag. “How many cups of flour did you use?”

Elena bit back her frown as she wondered what Reno was going to do. “Three?” she said. Reno quirked a disbelieving brow at her, and Elena folded her arms. “I followed the recipe okay! It’s not my fault it doesn’t go the way it’s supposed to.”

“Then whose fault is it? The oven?” 

Reno scoffed and reached toward the bag of flour to scoop for another cup. Elena’s eyes grew wide in horror and she was about to stop him. She could do this herself—she had to do this herself. What would be the point if she didn’t make the cookies she would give Tseng tomorrow?

“Just tell him you spent all night at the kitchen,” Reno said, adding half a cup of the flour into the dough through a strainer. He set the cup down, then began mixing the batter. “That’s not exactly a lie.”

“But—” Elena pursed her lips and looked away, ignoring the way her cheeks burned. “Stop reading my mind.”

“Then stop being an open book.”

Elena huffed and gritted her teeth. She could never win against her particularly obnoxious senior.

Reno mixed the batter with the spatula with expert dexterity. He added more flour when the batter was still too viscid, then mixed it some more until the consistency resembled a cookie dough. Elena found herself entranced by the way he moved with ease, the blue in his eyes focused solely on the task at hand.

“Can you really bake?” she asked.

Reno’s laugh surprised her—the sort of startled laughter as if she’d said something stupid. “I’m a Turk,” was all he said, as though that answered everything. She was a Turk herself, but she knew nothing about the kitchen. Though that was nothing new. Her own family had forbidden her to enter the kitchen, even when nobody was home. That was why she had to use the company’s kitchen in the small hours.

What if Reno was only putting on airs and the cookies he made now turned out worse than her own burned batch? What if he was playing her? Elena wouldn’t put it past him. Then Tseng wouldn’t look at her the same way ever again—and not in the way she hoped. 

“You don’t believe me that much?” Elena blinked. Reno was looking at her from the corners of his eyes, a frown playing across his face. “All I want is to save Tseng from getting hospitalized. Now, either you get out of my way or you get me the parchment paper.”

He’d sounded so stern that for a split second, Elena had thought she was on a mission and he was her field superior. She stood at attention, then responded the way she would have as a member of the Turks. It wasn’t until she caught his tiny, teasing grin as she was turning around that she realized he was messing with her. Unease, mixed with exasperation, creeped its way into her heart.

“You’re not pulling my leg, right?”

His delayed answer made her think of the worst. He hadn’t added anything strange into the bowl while she wasn’t looking, had he? She could just imagine Tseng’s expression. The cookie would look good on the outside, but the moment her superior bite into it—the grimace, the disgust, the gag. What if he threw up in front of her? He’d get hospitalized for sure!

“You like him that much, huh?” 

Reno’s eyes were uncharacteristically drawn, a slight crinkle around the corners that made him look... gentle, for once. Teasing still, but kind. In a blink-or-she’d-miss-it moment, his smile turned tender. Then he looked away and resumed his mixing. 

“Relax,” he said. “After tasting your cooking, I fear for Tseng’s life if he has to eat it.” She took offense, her lips pulling into a scowl as a retort formed behind her mouth, but then he said, “Just take it as me trying to express Holiday spirits. I’m being sincere here for once, you know.” 

That was the last thing Elena expected him to say. Holiday spirits? Sincere? Elena never thought those words existed in his vocabulary. For all she knew, her senior’s sincerity only existed on the battlefield when his target stood at the other end of his electro-mag rod. Elena had no reason to trust him, yet she had no reason not to trust him either. Maybe Reno really was doing her a favor. Whatever his reasons had been for visiting the kitchen so late at night, he was here helping her bake cookies when he was supposed to be on standby. Should she take him up on his offer? He’d do things his way no matter what she said.

“Fine,” she finally said. She turned around on her feet, then reached for the parchment papers in the cupboard. She spread it over the counter, but before Reno could scoop the now-thickened dough onto the paper, she held her hand over it, stopping him. “But if Tseng throws up in front of me, I’m going to say you made it for him.”

A pause, in which Reno’s turquoise eyes met her dark brown ones. The grin that spread over his face was almost challenging, but then he laughed a hearty laugh that came from his stomach and shook his shoulders. 

“Deal,” he said, then he scooped the dough onto the parchment. 

~ END ~

#shinraholiday2020 #reno of the turks #elena of the turks #final fantasy vii #ff7 #ffvii #ff7r #final fantasy #fanfiction #ff fanfic #ff7 fanfic

[ellanainthetardis]

 You can also find the chapter on fanfiction.net and Ao3 if you prefer reading there! Let me know your thoughts!

3.

Katniss wasn’t hiding in Haymitch’s classroom. She had simply made the judicious choice of removing herself from the rest of the school before she killed someone. She had a free period and she didn’t want to have to witness another brawl between two boys fighting over a girl or having to get involved because one of the football players thought it was perfectly okay to assault girls in the hallway. One of them had groped Madge that morning and Katniss had almost broken his arm.

She wasn’t sure what was happening to boys but they had been even stranger and more annoying than usual for close to a week. Every time she met Gale he made more or less covert remarks about Peeta and every time she met Peeta he asked if she had seen Gale and if she wanted to hang out as if he didn’t have dozens of other friends he could spend time with.

Even Madge thought the male population was acting really weird. They had even caught the principal giving flowers to his assistant.

“I’ve been trying to reach her for a week.” Haymitch snapped. He had been on the phone when she had come in but she had still taken a seat, figuring that if he wanted privacy he would tell her so. As far as she could tell, he had been kept on hold for a while. “Look, I want to talk to Mags Cohen. She ain’t answering her phone at home. I know you keep track of your Watchers… If she’s missing…”

On the phone with the Council, then. Katniss propped her head on her hand and watched him get more and more agitated, wondering if she should get a headstart on her homework because after school there would be training and patrolling and she wasn’t really keeping on top of the grade situation. Not that she cared much. There were more important things in life. Like making sure Prim had everything she needed and that the vampire population remained under check.

“What do you mean she ain’t missing?” he spat. “She’s eighty. Don’t tell me you sent her out on a mission at eighty?” He paused for a long time and then snorted. “Yeah, good. Get President Coin on the line. Finally. I’ve just been asking for twenty minutes.”  He glared at the phone and then looked back at her. “They’ve put me on hold again.”

“Who’s Mags Cohen?” she asked.

He hesitated and then shrugged, bringing the phone back against his ear. “She used to be a Watcher. She’s a very good friend of mine. And I wanted some information…” He placed his hand on the mouthpiece, which seemed a bit overkill since he was on hold anyway, and frowned at her. “You’re avoiding the new Art teacher like I told you, right?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. For a whole week she had been making unnecessary detours while stealing a peek at the woman every time she could get away with it. She didn’t really see what the big deal was because the woman wasn’t a vampire and she looked harmless – and totally ridiculous, she spoke loud, laughed a lot and twirled her hands in the air when she talked in a theatrical way. And that was without mentioning the clothes. She was always wearing at least one item in a blinding bright color. “Ever gonna tell me why I’m avoiding her?”

Haymitch studied her for a while and then shrugged. “Training exercise.”

That was a lie and she scowled at him. She didn’t like being manipulated or lied to. “You…”

“Yeah, I’m here.” he suddenly said into the phone. “Yeah, Alma, I know there’s a time difference. Sorry for your tea time.” He didn’t sound sorry at all. “I can’t get a hold on Mags.” A pause and then an angry expression twisted his features. “You really think I need a reason to want to talk to Mags? I check in with her every other week, it ain’t normal I can’t reach her.” There was a long pause and then anger turned to worry. “What do you mean a stroke? Why didn’t anyone call me?” Next thing Katniss knew, he was on his feet and pacing the length of the room, almost growling into his cell phone. “I’m her fucking next of kin! And why didn’t Finnick call me, then? I’ve got a right to…” He abruptly shut up and then rubbed his neck. “How bad is it? I could catch a plane tonight…” More silence on his part then. “Yeah. Right. I know I can’t leave my Slayer alone, thanks. Okay. No, everything’s fine here, we don’t need any help. Tell Finnick to call me or I’m gonna strangle him next time I see him.”

He cut the call off and tossed the phone on his desk but he didn’t stop his pacing.

“Is your friend alright?” Katniss asked. A stroke sounded bad.

“Stable.” he grumbled. “Once I get a hold on that little peacock, though… Last week and nobody called me yet?”

She had never seen him that agitated. He wasn’t really forthcoming about his past and she never pried because… She understood wanting to keep some things close to one’s chest. She wouldn’t have liked people asking questions about her parents, her sister or her home life and she appreciated that Haymitch never directly inquired about it. Oh, he had ways of figuring out what he wanted to know, of course, but he never confronted her about that stuff. He gave her her space and she was grateful for that.

Still, she was a little curious. “Finnick’s your brother?”

He had mentioned a brother once and if that Mags was his next of kin… Well, it wasn’t a huge leap to take.

Haymitch stopped pacing and stood frozen, as if she had struck him.

“My brother’s dead, sweetheart.” he said quietly. “Finnick’s… a close friend.”

His voice was calm but she could tell he was anything but. His tone was too controlled, too neutral… Haymitch was hardly ever neutral. Sarcasm was his default answer to everything and anger a close second behind that. When he wasn’t sarcastic or angry, he was bitter. Neutral was… bad.

“Like Mags?” she hesitated.

She wasn’t the only hesitant one. They were on treacherous ground, here.

They weren’t in a habit of exchanging confidences like that.

“Yeah, a bit.” he finally offered. Another beat of silence and then he licked his lips and started toward the window, turning his back on her. “Mags raised me. My house… It was hers. She gave it to me when my first Slayer was called. Maysilee.”

The way he said it was odd, a little dreadful, as if he was waiting for her to connect some dots. He had been raised by a Watcher…. He had said he had known seven Slayers in all but only trained five, herself not included… Were the two Slayers Mags had been responsible for the Slayers in question? But how had Haymitch ended up raised by a Watcher?

“Look, if you want to go to England, you should. I can deal with vampires by myself for a few days.” she offered. What was the worst that could happen? The rumor that there was a Slayer in town had started to spread anyway, vampires were being a little more careful. Lately, on patrol, she mostly found fledglings or very reckless ones.

He turned around and stared at her, his arms folded in front of his chest almost as if he was hugging himself in a weird display of vulnerability. He seemed to be considering it, which told her that Watcher was really important to him because she was pretty sure nothing else would have dragged him away from his duty.

He might always joke about it and claim he had never wanted to get another Slayer but he was as dedicated to being her Watcher as could be. At least when he wasn’t drinking himself into a stupor – that had happened twice so far as she knew of and, to be fair, he hadn’t been expecting her to show up either time.  

She wasn’t sure what he would have said if Peeta hadn’t barged into the classroom right at that moment, looking out of breath.

“Ah good! You’re here!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Have you heard about Woof?”

Haymitch rolled his eyes. “What has he lost now?”

Katniss smiled although she tried not to. Mr Woof was always losing stuff – his marker, his car keys, the solution to his math problems… He was a bit old and the question of his retirement was a recurring joke.  

“His clothes.” Peeta deadpanned, looking at her and Haymitch in turn.

“Good for him.” Haymitch snorted. “That makes one of us.”

That was a piece of information she hadn’t needed and she glared at him.

“And his heart.” Peeta added with a cringe.

Haymitch made a face. “Tell me this is a figure of speech.”

“I wish.” he answered softly. “It’s all over the school. They found him in his classroom. The police is about to take the body away. I couldn’t get close enough to see if there were bite marks on his neck.”

Haymitch scowled and then bitterly snorted. “Guess this settles that. Ain’t going anywhere, Katniss.” Then he strode toward the door and Katniss automatically bolted out of her chair to follow, Peeta falling into steps next to her. Haymitch kept mumbling to himself. “Wouldn’t be bite marks… That ain’t a vampire M.O.”

“Then what?” Katniss frowned. She struggled to keep up with him, the corridors were crowded with curious students and Haymitch had to bark three times for them to go back to their respective classroom before they managed to get through.

“Demon. Cult. A serial killer. Your guess is as good as mine until I can get my eyes on the body.” he muttered.

It occurred to her that it was where they were headed: to see Mr Woof’s body and she stopped dead in her tracks. She liked her Math teacher. She didn’t want to see him naked or heartless or dead.

There was a small group of people in front of Woof’s classroom. Heavensbee, some police officers in uniforms and a couple of teachers…

Peeta had noticed her hesitation but Haymitch hadn’t. Not that it mattered much anyway because she didn’t see how they were going to sneak into a crime scene to get a peek at the body…

“Stay back.” Haymitch murmured. “I’ll try to get a closer look.”

“There were a lot more cops earlier.” Peeta explained in a low voice. “I think there are only those two left.”

They watched Haymitch approach the group with a – fake or not, it was hard to tell with him – concerned expression on his face. He was welcomed into the group easily enough. Miss Tigris was sobbing and Heavensbee was awkwardly trying to comfort her, greeting Haymitch with something akin to relief… There was a lot of talking between the teachers and the cops…

All in all, it was lucky Miss Trinket erupted in hysterics at that moment because, otherwise, Katniss didn’t see how Haymitch would have managed to go in and out of the room undetected. Lucky for them, Trinket’s breakdown seemed to last just long enough for him to slip in and out without being noticed.  

“Do you think she’s alright?” Peeta worried. “I hope she’s alright…”

Katniss took a look at the woman and decided she simply liked having the spotlight directed at her. She really didn’t see why Haymitch didn’t want her to go anywhere near her.

It took Haymitch ten more minutes to extract himself from the group and walk back down to them. He didn’t look happy but, then again, he had just peeked at the dead body of someone he was used to meeting every day in the staff room.

“Someone clawed his heart out. I’m gonna say demons.” he sighed, looking grim. “We’re gonna need to hit the books.”

“Can I help?” Peeta immediately asked.

Haymitch seemed to hesitate but Katniss rolled her eyes.

“He’s just going to show up anyway.” she told her Watcher. “And he’s good at research.”

Peeta beamed at her and it was Haymitch’s turn to roll his eyes. “Okay. Fine.”

“I’ll bring donuts.” Peeta declared

“A little less cheer, kid.” her Watcher chided. “There’s still a dead body.” He paused for a second and then added. “Grab some of those chocolate croissants you brought on patrol the other night if you can, yeah? Those were good.”

°O°O°O°O°

Katniss was turning into a promising fighter but she was hopeless when it came down to research.

Haymitch had her practicing knife tossing in a corner of the library just so he wouldn’t have to listen to her sigh over dusty books any longer. He was also keeping an eye on the clock. With something that ate hearts on the loose, they would need to patrol extra hard  that night. He was toying with the thought of separating to cover more ground but he didn’t like the idea of leaving Katniss without backup.

Or at least a backup who wasn’t a sixteen year-old boy without any demon fighting training but who seemed to be a fixed addition to their future. It was odd being three. Watcher and Slayer, that was how it worked usually, although Haymitch’s experience had never really followed that pattern… First there had been him and his brother and Mags, and then there had been him, Mags and Mabel… He and Maysilee had worked in close quarters with a warlock for quite a while… It had been a tandem with both Alina, Cecelia and Jo but, of course, with Annie there had been Finnick…

Thinking about Finnick made him think about Mags and he shut down that train of thought quickly enough. The younger Watcher had yet to call him back and worrying about it… Worrying about it wouldn’t bring him anything.

He washed that thought down with a gulp of his flask, ignoring Peeta’s disapproving blue eyes. Katniss didn’t seem to mind his drinking habits much but the boy had that judgmental spark in his eyes every time he drank some liquor in front of him. Mostly, Haymitch tried to ignore him. When Peeta had buried as many people as he had and seen as many horrors as he did, he could come and judge him all he liked. Until then, Haymitch would keep on drinking. Besides, he was sober enough. He always stayed sober enough when his Slayer needed him.

He closed the Maleficum and dragged Hellish Beasts And Other Demons toward him, hoping he would have more luck there.

For a while, the only sounds in the library were the regular noise of Katniss’ knives hitting the target. She tossed the knives, retrieved them, tossed them, retrieve them… A weird clock in herself.

“I think I got it.” Peeta said suddenly. Haymitch looked up and Katniss left her practice to swiftly join them around the big round table. The boy turned the book around so they could both see the not so nice illustrations.

“Gross.” Katniss cringed when she saw the pictures. The demon didn’t look nice and what it was doing to those people was even less so.

“Succubus…” Haymitch read out loud, taking the book from the kid’s hands. Yeah, that could fit the pattern… He had never seen one himself in all those years. They were rare.

“They say it’s a demon who can look human outside of feeding times.” the boy summed up. “They go on a feeding spree once every few years. The succubus preys on men and tears their hearts out during coitus.”

“Coitus?” Katniss wrinkled her nose.

“It means sex.” Peeta helpfully offered.

“I know what it means, it’s just… Disgusting.” she replied. “So what? This demon just shows up and…”

“She seduces her victims.” Haymitch cut her off, his eyes skimming the text. “When the feeding period begins, her pheromones tend to make the general male population around her obsessed with sex… More than usual, at least.”

“Explains why all the boys have been acting crazy.” she commented, looking at them suspiciously. “But… Wouldn’t you two have noticed? Why didn’t you say anything?”

He and Peeta exchanged a look. A look was all it took to confirm they had both probably been hornier than usual lately. Men didn’t need to discuss those things.

At least, it explained some things. Like why he had been feeling like a teenager again. His hand had been cramping from all the wet dreams he had been having.

“At least Woof died happy. Poor man.” he muttered.

“How do we kill it?” Katniss asked, bringing the conversation back on track. She was also tossing them disappointed glances as if she had been expecting much better from both of them.

“Pretty much everything will do…” he answered, after having looked the text over again. “Wouldn’t go with just a bow though… Better bring knives too, to be safe.”

“Great.” she deadpanned but she also looked impatient for battle. Vampire activity had been slow lately and the thrill of a fight was in a Slayer’s blood.

“But how do we find the succubus?” Peeta asked. “If she looks human, it could be anyone…”

That stalled them all for a second until Haymitch figured it out and snorted.

“I’m a fucking idiot.” he spat.

“Nobody is going to dispute that…” Katniss muttered under her breath.

He shot her a glare but leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “I knew there was something weird about that woman… Thought she was a spy from the Council, that’s why I was trying to reach Mags…”

But maybe it had just been his instincts warning him and his current paranoia about Coin’s policies had clouded his judgment. What had she said? That she had come back to the States to be closer to her family? When her family lived in Los Angeles? It was probably the Hellmouth that she wanted to get closer to.  

“Who?” Katniss frowned and then realized. “The Art teacher? That’s why you wanted me to avoid her?”

“Miss Trinket?” Peeta cut in with a desolate face. “But she’s so nice… There’s no way she can be a demon. I mean…”

“Think about it, boy.” Haymitch rebuked. “I don’t know about you but for me the whole horny-thing started the day she arrived. And, like I said, she’s fishy. Besides she’s…”

He let his sentence trail off but he could tell from Peeta’s expression that he didn’t need to finish it.

“She’s what?” Katniss insisted, apparently not on the same wavelength.

Hot. Beautiful. Sexy. Feisty enough to be interesting. Take your pick.

“She looks like a sex demon would look if she was human.” he said as diplomatically as he could.

It took almost a whole minute for Katniss to decipher that one. And then she scoffed. “You think she’s attractive.”

He shrugged. “Sweetheart, demon or not, she is attractive.”

“And you think so too?” The question was directed straight at Peeta with the velocity of one of her arrows and the boy almost ducked behind one of the pile of books.

E tu, Brute, Haymitch couldn’t help but think with a smirk.

“She’s… She’s…” Peeta stuttered to a stop and turned toward Haymitch. “How do we check for sure she’s a demon? It’s just… She’s really nice.”

“Yeah, right until she fucks the heart out of you.” he snorted.

Katniss made another disgusted face. “Peeta’s got a point. I can’t just go killing her if she’s not a demon.”

“You think?” He rolled his eyes. “It’s fine. I’ll be bait. When she turns into an ugly demon, you can come to the rescue.”

“You’ll be bait.” Katniss repeated dubiously.

“Are you sure?” Peeta said, just as dubiously.

He lifted an eyebrow at the kid. “What? You want to do it?”

It was mostly a rhetorical question because there was no way Haymitch would have let him do it but the boy still took a second too long to refuse. And his blue eyes darted to Katniss before coming back on him, his cheeks a little red.

“No. Obviously not.” the kid mumbled. “And she’s not that attractive anyway. I mean…”

Katniss’ expression was dark and Haymitch chuckled.

“Quit while you’re ahead, boy.” he advised wisely. “Alright. We’ve got a plan, that’s good.”

“How are you going to play bait when we don’t know where she lives?” Katniss asked. “Do you know where she lives?”

“Do I look like a fucking phone book to you?” he scoffed.

“The school.” Peeta said. “I mean… They’d have her address on record, right? If we can get into Cardew or Heavensbee’s computer…”

Haymitch checked his watch again. It was late enough that the high school would be empty or close to it. He shrugged. “Well… It’s been a while since I last broke in somewhere.”

Of course, it was never that easy.

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #everlark #thg fanfiction

[kalicofox]

ALL RIGHT.

It’s DONE.

I am finished with this monstrosity. JEEZE.

@trustlup​

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

It was, Taako mused as he stalked through the aisles of the Fantasy Costco, hot as shit.

In fact, it was so hot that the Bureau headquarters was practically deserted; most of the other employees had jumped at the Director’s offer of a day off and gone down to the surface. Even Merle had gone, muttering something about having to reconnect to nature because Pan was pissed off about something or the other.

Angus, oddly enough, hadn’t gone, even though Carey, Killian, and Noelle had invited him to go with them to the beach.

Neither had Magnus.

Which left Taako with a dilemma.

Usually, he didn’t have a problem with making shit and eating it in front of people. In fact, when the heat wave had started, he’d been planning on making a nice big batch of ice cream and curling up on the couch to watch the world through the floor window as he savoured the icy sweetness.

But.

Angus and Magnus had holed up in the living room, which, by virtue of being on the bottom of the moon, was in the shade and thus one of the coolest rooms on the moon.

Barely paying attention to the ingredients he was pulling off the shelves, Taako considered his options.

Either one, he could go to the cafeteria and use the gigantic, sterile, empty kitchen to make his ice cream, and then find somewhere where he could eat it without being bothered, or…

Or he could go back to the apartment, use the kitchen he furnished to his own specifications, and have an eager eleven year old help him make enough ice cream for all three of them.

He wouldn’t have to hide up a tree to eat it, or in the Voidfish’s chamber, and he was pretty sure that watching Angus try to churn the ice cream would be hilarious.

Also, Magnus was strong. He’d be good for churning it once it started firming up…

“Did you find everything all right, sir?”

Taako started, blinked, then frowned at the cashier.

“What?”

The cashier rolled his eyes. “Did you find everything you needed all right, sir?”

“Yeah, sure. Of course I did.”

Actually, Taako wasn’t sure what he’d grabbed. He’d just been wandering the aisles as he thought, and hadn’t even noticed when he’d gotten in line to check out.

Still, watching the cashier total up his items showed him that he had, actually, gotten everything he’d need for a truly gigantic batch of ice cream.

Which solved his dilemma for him.

There was no way that he was going to be able to eat all of it on his own.

“All right, Ango!” Taako called, barging through the front door like an elven whirlwind, “Today’s your lucky day!”

Angus blinked at him from the couch, not seeming to notice how Magnus had startled and reached behind himself for an axe that wasn’t there when the door had slammed open.

“It is, sir?”

“It is.” Taako confirmed, sweeping into the kitchen and plopping the bag of ingredients down on the counter. “Today you’re gonna learn how to make ice cream.”

There was a brief pause, then, “I am?”

“Yes,” Taako said, pulling a pot out of one of the cupboards with a clatter and turning to beckon Angus into the kitchen. “And Magnus is gonna help, so no complaining, you got it?”

“Wait, why am I going to help?” Magnus asked bemusedly, following Angus into the kitchen and peering curiously into the bag of ingredients.

“‘Cause if you don’t help you don’t eat.” Taako said simply. “Now, Ango, you’re gonna be the sous chef, so do exactly what I tell you, when I tell you, okay? Leave the actual cooking to me. Magnus, you’re the muscle here, so you don’t have to do anything until almost the very end. That means either get the hell out of my kitchen, or get out of the way. Agnes, there’s aprons over there. Grab one and put it on.”

  -----

If Angus had thought that Taako was a harsh taskmaster during their magic lessons, then cooking lessons turned the elf into a tyrant.

Not one single bit of magic was allowed, at all. That wasn’t much of a problem for Angus, but it was a problem for Taako, who was practically shooting sparks in an effort not to use the small bits of magic that usually made life so much easier.

Angus kept studiously silent when he caught Taako pouring the first batch of custard down the drain because he’d forgotten for a moment and used Prestidigitation to chill it faster.

Magnus, thankfully, seemed to be completely oblivious, alternating between regaling the two chefs with stories about dogs he’d met before, begging for tastes of custard, and carving something small and intricate that he wouldn’t let either of them see.

“It’s not done yet.” He insisted, hiding whatever it was in one palm and gently pushing Angus away with the other, “You can see it when it’s done.”

“Well then you can wait to taste the ice cream until it’s done!” Taako announced with a huff, pouring ice and rock salt into the biggest pot they owned and cramming the second, smaller pot that held the custard into the mixture. “Now make yourself useful and get over here. We gotta mix the shit out of this.”

Magnus perked up, tucked his project into his pocket, and wandered over, peering into the nested pots.

“Is there something I can do, sir?” Angus asked, and Taako squinted over at him, drumming his fingers thoughtfully against the counter.

“Well there’s always the dishes...” he said, and smirked when Angus’ face fell slightly. “Tell you what, boychik. There’s fruit in the fridge. Grab what you want, and start cutting. I’ll show you how to chop it into the ice cream after you’ve tried it plain.”

“Yessir!” Angus grinned, and tried not to bounce as he headed over to see what fruit there was.

 To Taako’s surprise, Magnus actually managed to keep up the steady churning until the custard had frozen to the point it could be considered ice cream. Granted, the guy was basically made of muscles, but those were hitting muscles, not mixing muscles, so he’d half expected to have to take over a few minutes in.

“So we can eat it now, right?” Magnus asked, looking down proudly at the smooth, pale yellow contents of the pot.

“Not yet.” Taako said, whisking the pot out from under Magnus’ nose and slapping a lid on top of it. “It’s gotta freeze a little more before we can eat it.”

“What?! But then what was all of that for? I thought I was making it freeze!”

“Well yeah,” Taako said, rolling his eyes and turning to tuck the pot into the freezer, “you did. But now it’s gotta freeze more or it’ll melt too fast.”

“Oh, I thought we’d be able to eat it right away...”

Taako froze. The sheer disappointment in Angus’ voice was just…

Dammit.

Taako sighed, turning away from the freezer and plopping the pot back down onto the counter.

“Agnes, make yourself useful and get the bowls and spoons. Magnus, get that stupid grin off your face before I burn a fucking spell slot on you.”

Thankfully, Angus had been too well trained by the magic lessons to look too hard Taako’s sudden change of heart; instead he scrambled for the cupboards as Taako grabbed one of the bigger serving spoons and started scooping.

“Thif if sho gooot!” Magnus mumbled around a mouthful, his eyes closed happily.

Angus hummed in agreement, shooting Taako a thumbs up with his free hand and trying not to bounce in his seat.

Taako watched them for a moment, then sighed, dug his spoon into his bowl, and took his first bite.

It wasn’t bad. Not the worst ice cream he’d ever had, but not the best. It was just vanilla. No frills, nothing special about it. It was just ice cream.

“Yeah,” He said out loud, “it’s not bad. Good job, Ango.”

“Thank you sir!” Angus beamed, and Magnus pouted.

“What about me? I helped too!”

“Oh yes,” Taako said sarcastically, “You helped so much. Good job stirring the fucking cream. Nobody else could have done that.”

“Thank you!” Magnus grinned, and settled back in his chair, spooning more of the ice cream into his mouth, “This is really really good. I’ve never had ice cream before.”

Angus gaped, “Really??”

Magnus nodded. “Yeah, it wasn’t really something that we could get super easily when I was a kid, and then I just never really had the chance? So yeah. It’s really good though! I like it a lot!”

“Well I made it, so of course it’s good.” Taako sniffed, then added, “And Angus made a decent sous chef, so yeah.”

The three of them trailed off into silence, each focusing on eating their treat, and it wasn’t until Taako scraped the last of the cream out of the bottom of his bowl that he noticed that Magnus’ eating had slowed, then stopped, and he was frowning into his bowl.

“What’s wrong, Mags?” Taako asked, trying to ignore the way his stomach was clenching.

Magnus never stopped eating if there was still food in front of him.

Something was wrong.

“It’s nothing,” Magnus said, flashing him a quick grin, “I’m just full. I guess ice cream is really filling!”

“Really?” Angus asked, craning his head to peek into Magnus’ bowl. “Would you like me to finish that for you, sir?”

“Yeah, sure pipsqueak. Have at it.” Magnus said, and slid his bowl over to Angus, who pushed his own empty bowl to one side and dug in happily.

Yeah. It was fine. Magnus just wasn’t hungry. It was fine. Taako and Angus had both eaten the exact same ice cream, and Taako knew that he felt fine, and judging by how fast Angus was plowing through his second helping of ice cream he felt fine too.

Everything was chill. It was all good.

Still, Taako’s heart was pounding as he swept the two empty bowls off the table and went to dump them in the sink.

Behind him, something gurgled, low and loud, and Taako froze.

“Sir? Are you okay? You look like you’re in pain!”

“Yeah Ango, I’m fine. I guess the ice cream didn’t really agree with me, or something.”

Taako’s hands weren’t shaking.

He meant to drop the bowls in the sink that hard. Really.

“Sir? Are you all right?”

“Ugh, this really isn’t sitting well with me at all.”

“No sir, I meant Mister Taaco. Are you okay Mister Taaco? You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine, bubeleh.”

His hands were clenched into fists, but he wasn’t sure when that had happened. All he knew was that he was shaking, and they couldn’t see. He couldn’t let them see him shake or they’d know that it was his fault.

He had to-

He had to go.

“I’m gonna hit the Fantasy Costco real quick. Pick up some tums or something for Magnus. Be back in a few.”

He didn’t look at either of them as he fled, trying desperately not to look like he was running away.

Can’t look like anything’s out of the ordinary. Gotta play it cool. Get off the moon and go to ground, and everything’ll be fine.

He wasn’t sure what he told Avi to get a cannonball as fast as he did, but whatever it was worked, and it got him on the ground near the Icerim Mountains, as far from the Bureau as he could get by being launched out of a cannon on the moon.

As soon as the glass cannonball was out of sight, drifting back towards the Bureau, Taako turned south, summoned Garryl, and rode hard.

 It took only took him a couple of hours to get close to the nearest town, and Taako dismounted and dismissed Garryl without a word. His hat got pulled off and stuffed into the bag that held all of his components, and a flicker of prestidigitation turned his immaculate black Cloak of the Manta Ray brown with road dust.

Shaking fingers combed the elaborate braid out of his hair, then rolled it into a functional bun and tied it out of the way. Another flicker of prestidigitation made his umbrastaff look older and more worn.

Nothing to see here, folks. Just an ordinary, down on his luck traveler. Only good for a couple of tricks that might be enough to earn a meal or a bed.

Fuck.

No.

It was fine. Taako gives a shit about Taako, only. No one else.

 -------

It took Angus and the Director a week and a half to track Taako down; the task made harder by the fact that, seemingly at random, he would just up and leave the town his bracer tracker said he was in, and end up somewhere completely different only a few hours later.

Carey, Killian, and Noelle had offered to go after him, but been overruled by not only Merle and Magnus, but the Director herself.

“We don’t want to spook him.” She’d said over their protests, glaring them into silence. “Taako knows what you three do, and if he thinks for an instant that you’re coming after him professionally, and not as his friends, then he may do something drastic that would make it impossible for us to find him again.”

She let that statement hang in the air for a moment, heavy and ominous, then quietly dismissed the Regulator team, turning back to her desk, where Angus was sitting on a spare chair and studying the map that tracked where every active bracer was.

“Do you really think he’d do that?” Angus asked quietly, trying to hide the tremor in his voice, “Cut his own arm off to get rid of the bracer?”

The Director sighed wearily, slumping into her chair and staring down at the map. “Honestly Angus, I don’t know. I’m not even sure why he ran.”

Angus hesitated for a moment, then, haltingly, told her what Taako had told him during one of their magic lessons. About Glamour Springs, and the people who had died because of Taako’s cooking. He told her about how, after they went to get the Chalice, Taako had tossed out his innocence offhandedly, like it didn’t really matter, but then promised to teach him to make ice cream sometime this summer.

“And then Magnus got a stomach ache, so Mister Taaco said he was going to get stomach medicine from the Fantasy Costco, but he never came back!” Angus was flat out sobbing now, “This is all my fault! If I hadn’t asked, then Mister Taaco wouldn’t have gotten scared, and he’d still be here and I’m so sorry I ruined everything!”

The last word was a long, drawn out wail, and the Director’s face crumpled a little as she reached over and pulled Angus close.

“None of that. This is absolutely not your fault, do you understand me Angus McDonald? You are not to blame yourself one bit for that ridiculous elf mistaking an allergic reaction for having accidentally poisoned someone.”

Angus choked back a sob and blinked his watery eyes up at her. “A what?”

“An allergic reaction.” Lucretia said calmly. “Magnus is lactose intolerant. I thought he was aware, so when it came up during the pre-hiring medical screening, I never said anything. Obviously I was mistaken and should have.”

“Oh.” Angus thought about that for a moment, absentmindedly pulling his handkerchief out of his pocket and blowing his nose into it, “So does that mean that Magnus can’t ever have ice cream?”

“Pretty much,” the Director nodded, “Now. Are you feeling a little better?”

Angus nodded, “Yes ma’am.”

“Good. Where is our wayward Reclaimer now?”

“Somewhere in the Ashenwood,” Angus reported, wiping his glasses with the clean part of his handkerchief and then peering back at the map so that he could point out the little dot of light that represented Taako’s bracer. “I think he’s heading toward Mulsantir or Two Stars, but I can’t be certain. He’s really gone all over the place.”

Lucretia hummed thoughtfully, tapping one finger idly against the lower edge of the map, then nodded. “Right. We’re going to send two groups. Merle and I will go to Mulsantir, since that’s closest to where he currently is. You will go with Magnus to Two Stars. If you find him, you are to kick him as hard as you can, and then drag his skinny elven ass back here by the ear, do you understand?”

Angus stared at her, his mouth slightly agape, and Lucretia quickly reviewed what she’d just said, then grimaced. “Forget that.” She ordered, massaging her temple with one hand, “It’s been a long week. Just… try to convince him to come back, all right?”

“Yes ma’am!” Angus chirped, and slid off the chair he’d been using and darted out of the office, talking rapidly into his stone of farspeech before the door even swung shut behind him.

 -------

Taako rolled in to Two Stars just after noon, more than ready to just call the day quits already, find the nearest shitty inn and start haggling with whoever the hell owned it so that he could do some easy, showy magic in the main room. He’d gotten lucky at the last town; he’d been able to make enough in tips to stock back up on components he was running low on, but that’d left him short on food when he’d had to drop everything and get the hell out of dodge.

Who knew that having a talent for pissing people off was so dangerous to one’s health?

Oh right, he did. Or at least he had, before he’d started hanging out with Merle and Magnus.

When the hell had he forgotten, anyway?

Something in the back of his head twitched; that odd sixth sense that anyone who regularly sees combat develops, and Taako paused mid stride, then mentally swore at himself and forced himself to keep walking. Just act natural. There’s nothing wrong, no one here could possibly know him. It was probably just some asshole rogue, casing him to see if he had any shit worth stealing.

Joke’s on that poor sucker. The only thing that looked visibly valuable was the fuckin’ bracer, and there was no way that was coming off; Taako would know.

Three seconds later something hit him in the small of his back and wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his sides. He was halfway through the spell for Blink when he realized that it hadn’t been an attack. It was a kid.

A kid who was babbling half-sobbed apologies into his back, and, from the feel of the glasses frames digging into his spine, trying to hide his tears in the dirty, dusty cloak.

He finished casting Blink anyway.

 As soon as he was in the ethereal plane, Taako stepped away, turning around to see that yeah, it was Angus, his arms now clutching thin air with a look of absolute devastation on his face.

“Angus? Where’d you go?”

Magnus fucking Burnsides shoved his way through the marketplace crowd, looking around for Angus. The smile on his face dropped off when he saw the boy, standing stock still in the middle of the road.

“Ango what’s wrong? What happened?”

Taako knew that tone in his voice. The tone that completely lost all of Magnus’ customary joviality and said ‘I’m fucking serious now, so tell me what I want to know or shit will start breaking. Starting with your face.’

“I saw him,” Angus croaked, sniffing hard, “I saw him and I couldn’t help myself, so I-” he sniffled again, “I ran up and hugged him, and then” Angus hiccuped, “he got away. He cast a spell, I think it was Blink, and I don’t even know if he knew it was me, but I had to tell him how sorry I was and that I missed him and I wanted him to come back and I’m so sorry sir, really I am I didn’t mean to scare him away, I swear, I jus-”

Taako had seen enough.

There was leaving so that he wouldn’t hurt anyone, even on accident, and then there was just being an asshole, and apparently at some point in the past week he’d crossed the line from one to the other.

 He’d make sure that Magnus explained later. Even if he had to burn a spell slot on the jerk to get him to talk.

“Scare who away, bubeleh?” He asked, Blinking back into the physical plane, well out of reach of Magnus and taking care not to look directly at the fighter.

“Mister Taaco!”

Angus flung himself across the short distance separating them, and, running off some insane instinct, Taako dropped his umbrastaff and caught him. Magnus took a couple of steps forward, stooped down and grabbed it, then straightened up and looked down at him with an odd, crooked smile.

He was stuck. He wouldn’t leave without the staff, and he sure as hell couldn’t take Ango with him wherever the hell he’d need to go next, but…

“Ready to come back to the Bureau?” Magnus asked, his head tipped slightly to one side, “Merle and the Director were really worried about you.”

What?

“What?”

Angus squirmed in his arms, shifting until Taako put him down, then took one careful step backwards and peered up at him through damp eyes.

“Please come back, sir?” He said, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, “I’m sorry I asked you to show me how to make ice cream, and I know you probably never want to teach me anything ever again, but please come back? We really miss you, and the moon isn’t really the same without you, and Merle is so much more grumpy if you’re not around-”

“You want me to come back?!” Taako rocked back on his heel, half turning as though he expected to see a firing squad lined up somewhere along the market, “Magnus I almost killed you!”

Magnus shrugged, “I almost die a lot, no big.”

Taako stared at him, and after a moment Angus cleared his throat.

“Actually, sirs, apparently Magnus has a milk allergy, and the Director thought he knew, so she didn’t say anything.”

Taako paused, then, slowly, straightened up to his full height. “So… I didn’t fuck up? Lucretia did?”

Angus paused, then nodded. “Yes sir, I suppose you could put it that way.”

“Well all right then!” Taako grinned, snapping his fingers to get rid of the dust and dirt and minor illusions that coated his things, “Let’s go! Papa needs a hot bath and a bigass meal. You have no idea the sort of shit I’ve had to put up with this last week.”

Grinning, Magnus turned around to lead the way out of Two Stars back toward where they’d left the cannon ball, leaving Angus standing, stunned, in the middle of the marketplace.

Just before they were out of sight, Angus heard Taako ask, his voice seemingly casual, “How the hell did you guys find me, anyhow?”

#this took me #WAY too fucking long #taz #Taako #Magnus #Angus #angst #playing with Taako's trauma #this is what happens when you make people forget things #Lucretia

[inhalareexhalare]

“Let Him First Cast a Stone at Her”

Two occurrences in this early morning:

(1) I brushed off Ms. Len when she asked if I could deal with her bank deposit on my way, since yesterday I experienced the worst long wait ever. That particular bank has poor manpower and technology. Now I regret letting that opportunity to help pass me by.

(2) Reyna’s all anxious again from her mistakes at work. She thinks they’re minor and careless, but it’s exactly the simplicity of the mistakes that makes her feel bad about herself. Simple mistakes that she could have avoided, she thinks.

To Reyna:

Kung may mag-judge man sa iyo, sabihin mo walang kwenta siya JK HAHA

[If anyone ever judges you tell them they’re fucking useless JUST KIDDING HAHA]

Sabi nga ni Jesus sa Christianity, "He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her."

[Jesus of Christianity did say,...]

Remember, walang may karapatan na husgahan ka. Ginagawa mo ang pinaka-best mo, at alam mo yan.

[Remember, nobody has the right to judge you. You do the very best that you can, and you know it.]

Pero kung gusto mo ng improvement anyway, pwede mong i-note nalang yun para new habit na haha "always doublecheck" :) Malamang magkakamali ka pa rin kasi di naman tayo robot, pero magiging mas konti na probably ang frequency! :D

[But if you want to work on self-improvement anyway, you can note it instead to turn it into a new habit haha “always double-check” :) You will certainly still make mistakes since we aren’t robots, but you’ll probably less frequently miss it! :D]

I still feel bad about Ms. Len hahahuhu

Oh wait! She responded in e-mail! Yay she would like to take my re-offer of doing that deposit (as long as it’s on the wayy)

From Ms. Len:

Wait for a moment.I will go there.Thank you very much.

To Ms. Len:

Thank you so much for taking the trouble! Noted!

2019-02-28 08:40 Philippines Thursday

I.. 

I am seriously trembling, fuck.

I am overwhelmed with excitement as I crave for this social development.

Ms. Len and I hugged. She said sorry for the trouble, but that she also really appreciates it, because two secretaries that sit adjacent to her cubicle like to pick on her schedule. They spread weird rumors about her taking too long with errands (and are suspecting that Ms. Len is busy chatting with people and having fun despite it being the time for work.) 

So this is quite a help in saving her time. I told her not to mind them. I love them as individuals, but they’re letting their perspectives run over Ms. Len this time. Those two are known for having less responsibilities as Ms. Len as people also say that they are unreliable or slow. Which makes them not understand how Ms. Len can possibly have so much errands/responsibilities to be running out and back to office the whole day.

For people who some others belittle, they should understand what Ms. Len must be feeling if they just try. :<

People just like to pick on other people. Especially if they don’t think getting to know others better is worth their time. Let’s try to break the cycle, shall we?

2019-02-28 09:32 Philippines Thursday

I ran into Richel, one of my cousins, who is now in her early college years. I was able to properly express my pleasant surprise. It’s been so long that I thought we’d have a lot of troublesome ice to thaw between us but hey, we were good. I told her that I missed her (and I didn’t know that until I said it), and she met me with similar enthusiasm and told me that she and her family would actually love to have lunch together with me someday.

I thought I’d be allergic to her since ever since I left home, I hid from my relatives ( I didn’t like to be talked about or pried on, and I didn’t want unnecessary burden on my dad and everyone although I think this absence of mine might have just worsened the gossip fuel haha) But we were cool. She didn’t know how to talk to me but in the spur of the moment I initiated so that was a surprise.

I wonder if I should take them up on that offer? I dislike feeling like I have to explain myself, but isn’t that exactly what socializing is about? Helping each other understand each other?

Okay, a part of me still doesn’t want to, but I guess I should. If they initiate of course. I am technically sent the invitation through someone else’s intention, but I don’t want this gathering to be started by me because then it would be as if I want to push my ideas onto them.

Nevertheless:

Mission: Share Your Opinion.

2019-02-28 11:27 Philippines Thursday

Waaah. I couldn’t share my opinions at our meeting. I couldn’t even speak up or make a sound. Even when Dr. Virg started lightening up to me with jokes on my silence.

I just didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t relate to them. Worse, I couldn’t find my voice. My voice was also weak even when it was Dr. Seth asking. I guess the whole, general air can give so much effect on comfort. I saw them somewhat as a group of people I couldn’t relate to. 

Retirement? Salary? Nationwide competition? The only thing I could relate to was that scandal they talked about around a certain graduate who lied for years to their parents regarding studies and even graduation. That student made up a lot of stories which sounds so familiar to me because my brother did that before. 

So I could only empathize. Troubled, repressed individuals who don’t know who to go to for help. Or just plainly can’t because they’re no t used to asking for help.

I couldn’t speak because I’d just be adding fuel to their gossip. 

I had no idea what to do at all, although I did my job right when it’s about business.

I don’t understand what Dr. Virg and some others in the room expect from me. If they were in my position, I wonder what they would talk about? I could be the clown/joker and say some pretty stupid things just to get a laugh and a level of comfort, but that wouldn’t be me.

Hm. Whatcha think, reader?

I really believe now that small talk is important, but what could I possibly talk about? I’m clueless here...

All I can think of for now, is improve the volume of my voice. Be adventurous with it. Don’t let their expectations intimidate you.

But I’m severely lacking in improvisation in this case. Strange. 

Do I really just lack information? Is that it? But their topics are too irrelevant to me.

Seriously, what do you say to:

“Ey, Lobo. You and Phoebe should be hosts to this event. Haha!”

Don’t worry it wasn’t an attack. Or at least that’s how I heard it. Phoebe is an apparently soft-spoken staff member. I could only smile or chuckle along.

I have no idea what to say. Hm. If I do have to give an opinion though, I’d ask if the event was undercover because I’m too quiet to host it. I wonder if they’d relate though. I have pretty weird contextual language, just like anyone does when there’s a huge gap in culture.

What if, instead, I say, then the event would be chaos, because I'd make a pretty speechless and therefore powerless host. Hosts exist to control the flow. I exist to observe the flow.

...

...too serious? This has always been a kind of problem haha

I like this part of me, but most don’t relate.

But I think I’ll try my second idea next time. My way of showing affection is adding some flavor and insight into things.

-

WAIT. I think I found another hole. I’m too busy looking for a short response, since I know they don’t think of me highly yet for me to steal more than a minute out of one turn.

(1) Do they actually think that? If so, there’s nothing to do about it. I can only shut up, or be fake.

(2) Maybe they don’t think that. If so, then I should give myself a push and try.

(3) The truth is that I really just don’t know what they think; So I must try, and keep trying. Unless it’s really evident that (1) is true, then that’s the time I drop it.

I should give it tries.

Mission: Steal Time, Test Waters!

But I still think I wouldn’t have gotten this idea at the time, since I keep thinking about the comfort levels of the other speaker and what they are probably expecting out of me. So, a revision of the previous mission:

Mission: Share Your Opinion (Think Underlying Concepts)

2019-02-28 15:14 Philippines Thursday

Huh. I don't feel so attached to Karu now, even though it's nighttime.

I'm actually pretty happy and excited on my own.

I'm genuinely excited for his gig tonight and for his net gigs, and for his new flute!

Even though I won't get to hear it until maybe a weekend morning.

You know what? I don't feel bad at all. I watched a few short films, snd then manga, and then pondered for a bit on what I could develop in that collab story I have with Nynaeve.

And I'm going to bed pretty darn happy.

I am absolutely comfortable right now.

Hm.

It feels so free to rid yourself of unnecessary reins.

Chains that shackle unnecessary burdens like self-expectations, obsessions, self-depreciation, etc...

Why did I want Karu home at night before again?

The anxiety was triggered by extreme loneliness and envy. Unforgiving to myself for having such feelings, I would beat myself up and fixate on things about myself, and then I wouldn't be able to stop with the obsessive thinking if I didn't remember to do my calm spell and breathing exercise.

Now, I just have peace. Freedom. So much freedom that I find it easy to set other people free. Set Karu free.

I guess it's hard to find peace if you're looking for it. Peace is in everything around you; in everything that taught you important lessons; in everything that you love to do; in everything that you discover new.

You don't do tricks and hacks to get the peace of mind that you crave for; you just do things for reasons that actually matter to you—you do things for getting better, and for growing up.

Don't rush it, but don't delay it.

Don't resist it.

Literally be yourself and always find ways to enhance yourself.

This was Pa's truest words, when he wasn't held down so much by the pressures of society: (I was crying tears at the age of 19, having experienced my first of societal/social failures—flunking a subject.)

"I don't need you to be the best out of everyone. I want you to be the best of yourself."

2019-02-28 22:41 Philippines Thursday

What is this. I'm still not afraid of getting up in the morning!

Because how do I know it’s all gonna work out? I don’t.

Focus. IT'S A LEAP OF FAITH.

2019-03-01 06:00 Philippines Friday

PS watch Spider-man: Into the Spider-verse!

#chrono7 #social #progress #mission #goal #relative

[shitmodelmanagement-blog]

Paper Mag

UPDATE 3/6/18: @shitmodelmgmt has now taken down its "Blacklist" of those accused, citing growing pressure and threats to her personal safety and that of her loved ones.

While she specifies that many models reached out to thank her for her efforts, the Instagram account has also been labeled a "defamation machine" by various people named, many of whom are trying to figure out her identity in order to sue for libel.

In a lengthy statement posted to her Instagram story, @shitmodelmgmt explained the list's retraction:

"Blacklist going down at midnight — I'm getting too many death threats and threats to 'find my family' and 'make me sorry I did this,'" she wrote. "I'm still not sorry for protecting models from future negative experiences. Thank you so much to the thousands of people that supported me through this scary but important movement."

She continued: "Someone had to do this. I know it's crazy that a meme account ended up being the person to do it, but it was just time. What would you do if you had thousands of horrific stories? Would you just go to bed at night knowing you had a way to help? ...I'm not the kind of person to stay silent. And maybe I'm too bold. but I couldn't wait around for 'change.' Because it wasn't coming. Not until someone spoke out, no matter how scary it is."

The creator also addressed those who have sent her names of abusers that she had not yet uploaded to the list, saying she would be adding names until the list was unpublished, and asking them to screenshot.

—

Mario Testino. Bruce Weber. Terry Richardson. Names once championed by fashion's gatekeepers are now black-marked for their alleged longtime abuse of models. Over the past six months the media has diligently pursued stories of sexual assault survivors, but social media is frequently the one getting there first.

First, the "Shitty Media Men" list (a Google spreadsheet for journalists to anonymously share allegations of harassment), though never intended to be public, became an outlet for women to air the publishing industry's dirty laundry, and now a memes-for-models account, @shitmodelmgmt, is offering a similar platform with its "Blacklist." Its nameless founder, who's a former model herself, wants to provide a resource to survivors with a list of names of the accused (photographers, stylists, agents, designers) that she suggests models avoid.

In our post-Weinstein world, the list has exploded. Models are submitting their stories directly to @shitmodelmgmt, who reads and verifies others' claims via screenshots or gut instinct, and adds the names to her list. For those who have three or more accusations from separate people to their name, @shitmodelmgmt will add an asterisk. Some of the men, she says, have 30 or more accusers.

The legality of the list remains for now in a gray area. In the "Blacklist" introduction, the creator writes, "Every name on this list was sent to me by other people, and I am simply reporting what was said to me. This is not my personal opinion, I am reporting the experiences of others. Until proven, these names are simply allegations. This does not discredit any experiences shared with me; as I am reporting what was told to me over direct messages, I'm formally stating that the claims are allegations. Take from that what you will." She says that she's received numerous cease and desist letters, which she has ignored, saying, "I'm not afraid because I know that they are afraid."

The introduction adds, "Remember that YOU are the victim. Not the abuser. Not the predator. Not anyone else. And you have the right to be ANGRY. Coming out with your story is terrifying, but naming your abuser can help keep other potential victims safe."

In an interview with PAPER, the "Blacklist" creator speaks out:

Are your emails blowing up?

I'm getting thousands. It's insane. I feel like Justin Bieber. It's crazy.

Have you considered revealing your identity?

I was considering coming out on it a few times, but I'm so glad that I didn't because I would be scared. My mom is scared that people are going to come find me and stalk me and I'm like, "No, I don't think anyone knows." I mean I told a few people, but it's so much better like this.

Tell me about @shitmodelmgmt's inception.

I've been a model for so long, and [it's] the reason I started the account two years ago. I'm really shy, so people can walk all over me in my jobs, and I kind of let my agents tell me what to do all the time. I was always making jokes about my life on Twitter, [and] I wanted to make a meme account that other models could see. It wasn't even really anonymous, but then it started getting so much traction.

How did that evolve into creating the list?

Ever since I started it people were like, "Thank you for being a voice for models." So that's just been my thing, I guess. Slowly it became this place where I low key exposed people. People were so glad to see that, and agreeing with me. I would take really long hiatuses from it because I get anxiety, but I came back a few months ago and I put on my story, "I'm bored, let's gossip." I did not know this would happen. People started saying like, "Here's some gossip: this agent at my old agency tried to literally molest me." I felt responsible knowing, [and wanted to] do something about it. People were DMing me like, "Please put this on your story." That's when things really changed and I started outing people. All the angry photographers are telling me people are lying. But people don't make this up. This is not something to lie about. I've never met someone that lied about sexual assault in my entire life.

Have any of the guys on the list reached out to you directly or responded?

So many. Almost half of them probably. My entire email is full of these pretend lawsuits and I'm just ignoring them. It's funny because most of the ones that are the worst and most repeated names are the ones that are scared. So that's why I'm not afraid because I know that they are afraid.

You're sending the industry a message?

It's crazy because this hierarchy of people think they're safe because they're at the very top, and it's also designers that have all these employees who know, but they all want to work for that designer, so no one wants to say anything. It takes one brave person to stand up and then it starts crumbling down from there.

Have you ever been nervous to add a submission involving a big industry name?

Yeah, there were some people. There was this photographer that shoots for Victoria's Secret and we were actually friends on my account. Someone messaged me off the fake account with no followers or profile picture. So I asked if they had any screenshots or anything, because if it's someone that's being anonymous then I feel like I can't get back to them. She was like, "No, I don't have any proof or anything." The story kept changing, it was weird. And so I just didn't put them on the list at that point because it is serious to get accused of that. Sometimes there isn't a lot of proof, and I know I have to trust my gut. It's so scary because I have shot with so many of these photographers.

Has anyone come forward to defend one of the men on the list?

Yes. I think it's a little bit annoying to be honest, because everyone has a different experience. They're like, "Oh my god, that is my friend. I go hiking with him every weekend. He would never do that." It's like, I'm so happy that he hasn't assaulted you, but clearly he did someone to else. There's no excuse. You can't defend these people, especially when they have stars by their names... that's serious. Instead of trying to defend him and get him off the list, talk to him, find answers and question him. You shouldn't automatically defend someone. Maybe be a little skeptical, you know?

Everyone's experiences are different?

Exactly, it wasn't happening to you. It's funny because when I was exposing Testino and Weber a long time ago, all of these girls were like, "Oh my god, he's the nicest ever. I shot Abercrombie with him." Like, I'm sure he was respectful because you're not who he's after. This industry is full of enablers. Everyone in charge is an enabler. The agents are so bad about it.

It's a power dynamic?

It's literally this feeling of power. And that's why I hate people who are victim shaming because they have no idea how much power these people hold over you. They control your entire career. Everyone I know has some story, big or small, that happened in this industry. We don't have any regulations, so it's just this weird industry that doesn't get regulated by anything. There's no consequences. It's crazy and nobody understands or knows about it because the people in it get away with everything. It's this weird private thing going on in the world.

Do you see it changing?

I want it to change. It's taken forever and it's still so bad. [Many designers] are like, "We love women, we're such feminists," but you literally only cast size zero models and are promoting unhealthy body standards and eating disorders. That is not right. You're not a feminist, you're not an activist, you're actually the worst.

Have you encouraged anyone to go on record with their accusations?

Some are more open. I put one person on my story, and a model responded like, "Please just ask anyone or tell me anyone that has a story about him and tell him to contact me," because he was in a lawsuit with the person and getting blackmailed. That's the crazy part is they're still trying to get away with it. I've actually been referring models to each other with the same stories. If somebody keeps [getting] reported, I'll just type his name in my email and it'll come up dozens of times. Some of these people are literally serial assaulters, like it's awful. So that's why this is so important.

#shitmodelmgmt #shitmodelmanagement