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aster-aspera · 3 years

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One place to fall

@badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: Can’t go home

Relationship: Jon/Martin/Tim/Sasha

Warnings: food, Jon just generally being a bit sad? Idk, if there’s something you want tagged, feel free to tell me

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Jon woke up that morning with a strangled gasp, the afterimage of his dreams still burned into the back of his eyelids, keeping him from falling back to sleep. He rolled over, expecting to find the comforting warmth of one of his partners to keep him company in the lonely hours of an early day. Instead, what greeted him was the cold grey wall of Georgie’s guest room. It didn’t take long after that for the memories to flow back.

Three days. He really should stop expecting them to be here at this point.

They’re not here, they can’t be here, and he can’t go home, not for a long while, not till the police stop suspecting him for a murder he didn’t commit.

He sighed, rolling over onto his back when aches started running up his side. He stared up at the off-white popcorn ceiling, trying not to think of how Tim was probably sprawled out over Martin and Sasha, stealing most of the blankets and driving his sharp elbows into their sides. He tried not to miss Sasha’s warmth against his side and the sound of Martin’s soft snores. He always used to complain about their sleeping arrangements, but now he would do anything to be back in that bed.

He groaned and rolled over a few more times, trying in vain to find a position that was comfortable enough to attempt sleep again, not that that would go very well, with the nightmares plaguing him as soon as he closed his eyes.

Eventually, he conceded and got out of bed, grabbing his cane from the wall and taking a moment to work the stiffness out of his limbs. He limped into the kitchen and smiled at the Admiral when he raised his head sleepily. He wondered if he could convince the others to get a cat when he got home. If he ever got home.

The smile slipped off his face and he turned to open the curtains, letting in the greyish light of an early dawn. The Admiral mewled plaintively at his feet, pushing against him. He bent down carefully to run his fingers along the cat’s back, closing his eyes for a moment and just letting the feeling ground him.

He straightened and made his way over to the cramped kitchen, intent on making himself a small breakfast to keep him company whilst he waited for the world to wake up. He reached towards the cabinet over the sink, and for a moment expected their mismatched collection of mugs with ridiculous quotes and terrible puns. He shouldn’t have felt the disappointment he did when instead it was just a shelf of plain white cups.

He shut the cabinet door a little more forcefully than strictly necessary, breathing deeply against the sudden swell of emotion in his throat.

In the scope of all that had happened to him, this should have been minor, this should have been fine. It was just Georgie, the person he had used to love, the person he still cared for. And his partners were really just a phone call away.

So why then, did it feel like he was breaking? Why did every little reminder this wasn’t his home tear something apart deep in his gut?

Home had always been his safety net, and now, he had nowhere to fall.

And now he just had to sit here, stare at the blank walls and hope the police would finally realise he hadn’t been the one to kill jurgen Leitner. Every day that hope felt a bit further away.

He opened the group chat he shared with the others. There were no new messages, of course not, none of them were awake yet. Six am was a bit early even for Tim. He scrolled back to their conversation from last night.

A picture of Tim grinning into the camera while a pot bubbles over behind him.

Sasha: Tim’s cooking tonight, send help

Martin: If the house burns down or he poisons us, I want you to know I love you

Jon: I’m sure it won’t come to that.

He scrolls back down to the bottom of the chat, a small smile on his face at the easy conversation of last night. It wasn’t the same as being there with them, but it was a small comfort.

The three dots that signalled someone was typing popped up on his screen and he noted with surprise Sasha was already online.

Sasha: Youre up early

Jon: I could say the same for you.

Sasha: Needed to pee

Jon: Yes, I suppose that makes sense.

Sasha: So what’s your excuse

Jon: My back hurts again.

Sasha: :(

Sasha: And is that the only reason?

Jon: No

Jon: I miss you.

Sasha: Darling

Jon: I’m alright, I just wish I could see you

Jon: In person that is.

Sasha: We could come over?

Jon: I don’t think that’s wise.

Sasha: Yeah, i guess

Sasha: We miss you too

A swarm of emotions bubbled up in Jon’s throat at the words, threatening to spill over in a mess of heartache and sorrow and fear. They press against the bounds of his throat, choking him, filling him with so many feelings he could not even begin to parse them out. He just wanted to go home.

He swallows it down, tucks the whole mess into a corner of his mind and puts down his phone. He doesn’t want to bother Sasha, or any of the others. He’s already put so much on them, dragged them into the fear and confusion that was the archives, he had no right to bother them with more.

And he knew he was just being dramatic, he was a grown man, he should be able to handle being away from home for a while. He just needed to get himself together, focus on the next step.

He picked up a stack of statements from the coffee table, slipping on his glasses and burying himself in the comforting rhythm of paper and pen. At least this was something he still controlled, still knew how to do.

Georgie appeared at some point, giving him a disapproving glance to find him working so early and coraling him into eating breakfast with her. She can’t stay long after that, and both Jon and the Admiral watch her leave with the same forlorn air.

Jon looked up from his work as a heavy knock resounded from the front door. His first thought was that it was Georgie, back from her errands early. But she would just have let herself in, and Jon knew for certain she had her key with her when she left.

And who did that leave? The police? Some avatar coming to settle a score? Gertrude's killer finally come to finish the job?

Every option was bad, and every option would not let a flimsy door stop them. He stood up, walked into the kitchen as calmly as he could with dread and paranoia hanging over him like a dark cloud and grabbed the largest knife he could find. The knock came again, and he could hear indistinct whispering from behind the door.

Multiple people then. That wasn’t good for his chances. He gripped the knife just a little bit tighter.

“Hey boss, open up,” came a familiar voice, one he used to hear rough and sleepy in the mornings and soft and loving in the evenings. His heart brightened in a momentary thrill at the thought of his partners, or at least, one of them, being on the other side of that door, so close to him again after all those days without them. And all he had to do was open up that door and pull them into his arms once more.

That thrill was almost immediately dampened again as he realized they should not be here. It was why he had left in the first place. They were too connected to him, too wrapped up in his messy web of conspiracy and paranoia. If the police saw them here, if Elias saw them here, they would be leading all of it right to Georgie’s doorstep.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” He told the door and tried not to think of the warm hands behind it.

“We’re not supposed to do a lot of things,” Came Sasha’s amused voice.

“Like date each other,” Tim filled in, “But here we are, so you going to let us in now?”

“No, the police could find out, and you might get Georgie in trouble and there’s just so many reasons this is a bad idea.”

“Jon please, we’re worried about you, Georgie said you weren’t doing well,” Martin said softly

Jon sat down on the couch heavily, knees protesting from standing up too long. He stared at the door.

“And standing out here is probably a lot more risky than being in the apartment, so best let us in.”

He sighed. You never could argue with Sasha’s logic. The others looked up victoriously when he finally unlocked the door.

“There he is!” Tim crowed, as Sasha and Martin offered him a warm smile while bustling into the apartment, both laden with grocery bags. Sasha pressed a light kiss to his forehead as she passed and he tried not to start crying at the feeling.

“You have to leave,” He said as he shut the door, “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Martin and Sasha didn’t look up from where they were unloading piles of vegetables and snacks from their bags.

“What? No, hey guys, I missed you, happy to see you all?” Tim complained as he draped himself over Jon’s back. Jon scowled at him.

“Jon, stop being stubborn, we’ve all been through hell the past few weeks, and right now we just want to be here to keep you company,” Martin said in that firm yet gentle voice of his.

“You really shouldn’t be alone after all that,” Sasha said as she dumped out a tupperware container into a pot.

“I’m not alone,” Jon said grumpily, “I have the Admiral.” Though he had apparently decided to make himself scarce for the time being. Jon cursed him for the betrayal.

“Are you saying you prefer the company of a cat to ours?” Tim asked, pulling them both back onto the couch and settling a blanket over them.

“Maybe,” Jon pouted, burrowing into Tim’s chest despite the fact that he was still upset with them, “He doesn’t uselessly endanger everyone to come give me cuddles.”

“Well we’re here now, and we’re not leaving till you feel better.”

“And admit it, you’re happy we’re here,” Martin said, apparently finishing up with his preparations in the kitchen and curling up next to Jon on the couch.

Jon did not want to admit it, but something warm and content curled up in his stomach, the warm feeling of home returning to his bones. A warm and savoury smell drifted through the room, clearly coming from whatever Sasha was warming up on the stove.

This apartement did not look like home in the slightest, the walls and ceiling all wrong, the furniture hard and uncomfortable and unfamiliar. But with all of them here, and that familiar smell of soup and Tim’s conditioner surrounding him, it wasn’t all that bad.

Sasha sat down on his other side, handing everyone a bowl of soup and giving Jon a gentle kiss on his knuckles. Martin pressed one to his temple and Tim just ruffled his hair fondly.

A few words were exchanged between them, but Jon didn’t bother paying too much attention. He knew he should still be angry, or at least have a firm conversation with them on what they had agreed on. But not now, not when they were here and he was home and for a moment he could forget all about Leitner and the institute and just be safe.

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gigi-sinclair · 4 years

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This is entirely for @draculas-gay-daughter, because of this.

Also, the research for this has awakened in me an actual desire to learn to make candles, so thanks for that new quarantine hobby!

It's like, what do they call it, ASMR.

That's what Edward tells himself. Some people find it relaxing to watch strangers pop plastic wrap or flick dry paint brushes or whatever. He happens to find it relaxing to watch Tom Jopson talk about the intricacies of making candles.

He doesn't know how he first landed on “Brighten Your Day With Candles.” Some winding path of Youtube “recommended videos” he wouldn't be able to retrace if he tried, but the moment he found it, Edward was entranced. He watched every one of Tom's ten-to-twenty minute long videos immediately.

Nine months and thirty-four new videos later—Tom took off the weeks of Christmas and New Year's, leaving Edward bereft over the holidays—Edward understands no more about candle making than he did before. Tom, however, is endlessly fascinating.

Edward can't say exactly what it is he finds so alluring. Tom is handsome, with his flopping dark hair and his five o'clock shadow, but Edward sees handsome men all the time. He's clearly very intelligent, but Edward works with some of the biggest minds, not to mention egos, in the country.

There is something else, something which leaves Edward unable to look away. When Tom says, “Adding too much fragrance can, unfortunately, lead to curdling in soy candles” with a look of heart-wrenching empathy in his big eyes, Edward wants to gather him in his arms and give the man a good, solid hug. When he says, “I had news from viewer Jamie in Nova Scotia that they've solved their ongoing issue with wet spots!” Edward wants to kiss him in celebration. And when Tom leans forward, the V-neck of his shirt revealing a patch of dark chest hair, to confide, “Today, we're going to talk about the length of your wick,” Edward offers up a mental apology and reaches for his fly.

Edward thinks his obsession is secret, until one evening his flatmate George says, “Thanks for staying out when I had Emily over the other night.”

“It's fine.” It is in Edward's best interests not to be about when George and his girlfriend get together. There is only so much saccharine sweetness and over-the-top pet names he can handle.

“I really appreciate it. So does she. We wanted to get you a gift.” It's only then Edward notices the bag, printed with pink flowers and the words “It's a Girl!”, in George's hand. “Sorry about the bag,” he adds. “It was the only one I could find.”

Where? Is the question Edward doesn't ask. “That's not necessary, George. Really.”

“Open it!”

Edward tries not to sigh as he opens the gift bag. George's gift-giving history, while admirable in its efforts, is remarkably poor in its execution. The last thing Edward needs is another “Purrrrrfect Friend” mug with a cat’s tail as a handle, or a T-shirt with a Sasquatch on it. It's the thought that counts, he reminds himself, even if that thought is, when it comes to George, quite often incomprehensible.

This gift is just as strange. Edward stares at what appear to be squares of white wax, a roll of string, and several tiny bottles, until George, still smiling, explains, “It was Emily's idea. I told her how you're always watching that candle making channel on Youtube, and she said you're probably dying to give it a go yourself.” He looks at Edward, his expression expectant. “It's great, right?”

“Right.” Edward smiles. “It is. Great. Thanks, mate.”

The next day, Edward buys a pair of headphones.

***

One Wednesday nearly a year after Edward first found him, Tom finishes a talk about gel wax, then leans back on his stool. All of his videos are filmed in the same kitchen, with several little cactus pots on the windowsill and a gleaming sink, spotlessly clean, in the background. Edward wonders if it's Tom's own kitchen. If the rest of the room, or the house or flat, is as tidy as what he shows. If he lives with anybody. No one else is ever on the videos, although that doesn't mean Tom doesn't have a friend or a flatmate or a partner behind the camera.

“I'm really going to miss you,” Tom says, putting the gel candles aside. Edward's heart seizes. “But I won't be making any new videos for the next little while, because I'm going on a book tour!” He holds up the book, also entitled “Brighten Your Day With Candles”, he's been showing for the last few weeks. Edward ordered it the first time he saw it. He feels like he owes Tom at least that much. “I am so excited,” Tom says. He looks it, but Edward has never seen him be anything but sincere. “Unfortunately, it's just in south east England at the moment—sorry Jen in San Luis Obispo, I can't make it out to California this time, although I would love to someday—but I would really like to meet as many of you as possible. My complete schedule is below. See you soon!” He waves. Edward is about to scroll down to the comments, then hesitates.

What would he say if he met Tom in person? That he thinks Tom is the most incredible man he's ever seen? That he's watched every one of Tom's videos multiple times, and still knows nothing about making candles? That he often pictures Tom talking authoritatively about long burn times and multiple layers while Edward blows him? It's disgusting, inappropriate, probably illegal.

With a shake of his head, Edward puts the thought of meeting Tom Jopson entirely out of his mind.

***

At one time, Edward loved his career. That was before the company president died suddenly and his role was taken over by two co-presidents, promoted from within, who have a long history of conflict and have used Edward as a go-between, the miserable child of an unfriendly divorce, for months now.

It saps Edward's energy to the point that he doesn't have the will to look for another job. He just goes to work every day, suffers, and comes home to brighten his day with candles. Until one night, when George meets him at the door.

“Don't take your coat off,” he tells Edward. “We're going out.”

“I really don't feel like...”

“You will. Trust me.” Edward doesn't. They're great friends, but Edward doesn't trust him a bit. The feeling is vindicated when they arrive at the local Waterstone's, and George pushes him inside.

Tom is even more beautiful in person. His stubble looks like it's deliberate rather than the result of a long day, although Edward has always found that very charming in itself. He's wearing a smart white button-up shirt, and the smile he directs at the woman in front of him is so brilliant, Edward feels weak.

“No.” Edward turns to go.

George stops him. “Why not? It's the guy you like, isn't it?”

“It's...I don't...What am I going to say?”

“That you're a big fan? Even though you still haven't used that candle stuff Emily and I got you?” George looks at him pointedly. “Get him to sign your book.”

“I don't have it with...”

George reaches into his satchel and presses “Brighten Your Day With Candles” on him. “Get in the queue,” he says, in that imperious tone he sometimes has. “I'll wait in the café.”

Edward's stomach churns, but he follows George's direction, joining the queue behind a middle-aged woman and her teenage daughter. There are two other people ahead of them. It’s long enough for Edward to regret his entire life up to this point, not long enough to gather the wherewithal to walk away.

When Edward reaches the table, Tom's smile becomes even more brilliant. “You're Edward, right?”

Edward's carefully thought out opening words—“Good work”—disappear. “How did you...”

“Your friend George sent me a message.” Of course he fucking did. Edward is going to kill him. Is actually going to put his hands around his throat and...“He told me you'd be here.”

“Hm.” Edward has no idea what to say. His mind is entirely blank. He searches desperately, a quest which eventually arrives at, “Yes.”

“You like my videos?” Tom holds out his hand. Edward shakes it, then, face burning, realizes Tom was reaching for the book. Edward drops it onto the table. It thunks loudly.

“Yes,” Edward repeats.

“Do you have a favourite type of candle?” Tom opens the book and turns to the title page.

“Wax ,” Edward replies, because his brain has apparently given up on this situation as entirely unsalvageable.

Tom laughs, as if that was a joke. He scrawls something in the book, then closes it and hands it back to Edward. “Thanks for watching, Edward. I really appreciate a loyal viewer like you.” He holds Edward's gaze as he says it.

Edward swallows around the lump in his throat. Edward has never done well in front of others. If he and Tom were alone, Edward might be able to come up something halfway coherent. Maybe. They're not.

“Thanks,” he says. He could swear Tom throws him a wink as he walks away.

It's that, along with the general humiliation, that leads Edward to duck out of view between Interior Design and Gardening. He opens the book to see what Tom wrote.

The words “For Edward” and a scribble that could be Tom's signature lie across the title page. Beneath that is a series of numbers. It takes Edward a moment longer than he wants to admit to realize it’s a phone number. He's not that lucky, usually. But he's also not this stupid.

His heart still hammering, Edward takes out his phone. I'm not really an idiot, Edward types, then sends the text before he can think twice. He glances at Tom, deep in conversation with a young woman in denim overalls, and goes to murder George.

Two hours later, Edward is sitting on the sofa at home when his phone trills. You don't seem like one. It's too kind. Just like he expected Tom would be. Can I buy you a coffee? Or better yet a drink?

“Who's that?” George asks, without looking up from his laptop. He doesn't need to. His entire body exudes smugness.

“Mind your own business,” Edward says. But, he adds silently, thank God you never do.

***

The rest of Tom's flat is as tidy as the kitchen he shows on his videos. It's also, amazingly, less than half an hour's drive from Edward's place. In addition to that, Tom has a day job at a shop Edward has passed hundreds of times, which he's always derogatorily classified as “candles, crystals and shit” and avoided.

“So if you hadn't been such a snob, darling,” Tom tells him, with a smile and a kiss, “we might have met a long time ago.”

Edward can't deny that. He can, however, deny that it's a good idea for him to join Tom on screen.

“Don't worry.” Tom sets up his phone on its tripod and comes back around the counter. “Just pretend it's not even there.” He kisses Edward again, on the cheek, then turns to the camera. “Welcome back, everyone! We have a very special guest today. This is my gorgeous boyfriend Edward, and we're going to help him make his very first candle!”

Tom posts the video later that evening. Not long afterwards, the comments start appearing. Normally, Edward would avoid them—he knows what Youtube commenters are like, and he never wants to see any criticism of Tom—but this time, he looks. To his surprise, there are several remarks about him. “Edward's so cute!” “OMG ur bf is the sweetest!” And, “That Edward guy really is great. I think you should have him on every episode.” The username beside that one is “PianoMan86” and the picture is the same one George uses on Instagram.

Bloody George. Fortunately, Edward thinks, looking at the slightly lumpy candle he produced with his own two hands, he has the perfect gift for him.

“Edward!” Tom calls, from his room down the hall. “Are you coming?”

Before they met, Edward assumed Tom would be the kind of guy who lights a million candles in the bedroom. In fact, he only ever lights one, but it never fails to have the perfect luminosity and fragrance for the mood.

“Yes.” Edward puts down his phone and hurries to join him. As amazing as he is on Youtube, Tom is unspeakably better offline.

#draculas-gay-daughter #niche youtube au

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paradoxicalpatton · 4 years

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Wearing Our Hearts On Our Sleeves (Ch. 1)

Title: Wearing Our Hearts On Our Sleeves Chapter: Prologue, Chapter 1 Word Count: 2054 Ships: Logicality, Prinxiety, Dukeceit Summary: Logan Bright, a Police Officer, is trying to find his father’s killer, and solve the case that led to his death once and for all. Throughout his investigations, Logan meets an eclectic bunch of people. A paramedic who owns 2 cats yet is deathly allergic, a 911 operator with severe social anxiety, twins who happen to be a firefighter and a forensic scientist, a cps worker who is a compulsive liar, and a 7-year-old boy who’s parents were murdered. Warnings: brief mentions of drugs, guns, and hostages. implied past murder Taglist: @tinysidestrashcaptain @avocados26 @shadycreatorrebelpersona @jadedmidnight @suicidalcitrusfruit @virgils-angels @human-being-kinda AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23046337/chapters/55408117

[July 12th 2019, 8:03 am]

Walking into the Police Precinct as an officer for the first time was, admittedly, a huge ordeal for Logan Bright. It’d been his dream for many years to follow in his father’s footsteps, to become a detective like he was, and to finally be recognised as an officer reinforced the fact that he was one step closer to achieving that goal. After he had signed in and introduced himself to the captain, Logan made his way down to the equipment room to officially receive his gun and badge, as well as the other necessary items he needed. However, as he turned around to leave the room, he was stopped by a group of 5 or so detectives, each one giving him a look up and down as if they were deciding for themselves whether or not he should be employed there.

“Well fellas, look at what we’ve got here. Fresh meat. I wonder how long this one will last.” The detectives began to laugh, making Logan feel as if he had to adjust his appearance with his posture straightening and his hands clasping together behind his back.

“Say, rookie, what’s your name?” Logan looked the man who spoke in the eye as he replied, trying to hide the proud smile threatening to form on his lips.

“Bright. Officer Logan Bright.” It was then that the laughter faded, the detectives glancing between each other as if trying to find an explanation. Only a few seconds passed before one of the detectives at the back of the group stepped forward with a look of disbelief in his eyes and hesitantly placed a hand on Logan’s shoulder.

“Logan… You’re Daniel’s son, aren’t you?” Logan nodded and a smile broke out onto the man’s face as he pulled the young officer in for a hug.

“I’m Clark, Clark Phillips, I was your father’s partner. He used to tell me so much about you. You were so little the last time I saw you.”

“You knew my father?” Logan gently hugged back before pulling away and adjusting his glasses, a small action that caused Clark to chuckle.

“I did, yes. You’re so much like him, you know?”

“No I- I didn’t know that.” Before Clark could respond, Logan’s radio crackled and a voice came through, calling Logan to go and begin his first patrol. With a quick goodbye to Clark and the rest of the Detectives, Logan was on his way, a small smile resting on his face for the rest of the day.

[March 3rd 2020, 12:38 pm]

Logan had finally gotten back to the precinct after a busy morning on patrol. He’d been an officer there for a little under eight months and Logan had enjoyed every minute of it. And although he enjoyed structure and schedules, the monotony was starting to become just a little tedious. He’d become an officer to give back to the community, but deep down he knew he was far more focused on finding the man that destroyed his family. So Logan decided he’d talk to Clark and see if he could take a look at his father’s murder file, a small favour he could pay back one day. Luckily, Clark was kind enough to sneak out a few case files for Logan to read through when he wasn’t out on patrol.

Clark had given him the files a week ago and Logan still hadn’t read a single one. He’d had plenty of time to go through them, his patrols had been quiet and he didn’t have anything to do during his breaks, so why hadn’t he read the files yet? If he was honest, he was scared. He was scared that when he’d open up those case files that all the pain and hurt that he felt would come flooding back. He was scared of finding out what happened to his father. He was scared that he’d never find the killer.

Logan was afraid.

He’d spent his whole life hoping that his father would walk back through his door, that he’d finally come home after so long and rebuild a relationship that was once lost. So he was afraid of those hopes being shattered if he opened the files. Logan was tempted to give them back, to keep pretending that someday his father would return. But he’d made a promise to his mother before she died that he’d find the murderer, and Logan Bright has never broken a promise. So this was where he was now, sitting at a spare empty desk, his father’s files in front of him, and a shaky hand hovering above the manila folders; and with great hesitancy, he opened them.

[November 29th 1997, 11:54 pm]

Detective Daniel Bright pulled into the car park opposite the abandoned factory. He’d recently been investigating a case regarding one of the biggest drug dealers in all of Florida and had followed a lead to where he was currently sitting, watching and waiting for any movement at all. He was so close to finally cracking open this case if he could get even just a photo of the transaction and the parties involved.

Before he knew it, a black SUV pulled up across the road, multiple men with guns exiting the car. Daniel picked up the camera sitting on the seat next to him and started taking pictures of the men, but as he did so his blood ran cold. Emerging from the other side of the car was a young couple with guns to their heads. Any wishes Daniel had to stay in the warmth of his car and gather intel were thrown out the window, he knew more men were bound to arrive with even more guns than the last car full. So without a second thought, Daniel got out of the car, his fingers gripped tightly around his gun and made his way over to the factory, looking for another way in.

Slipping through an open window in the back of the factory, Daniel snuck along the inside of the wall, going from stacks of crates to shipping containers to find a better vantage point. Eventually, he found the perfect spot to sit and hide where he could see the couple, kneeling on the ground hand in hand. Daniel sat in silence watching and waiting until finally, the factory doors opened and another group of men walked in. As the second group got closer, one of the men from the first stepped forward. Daniel shuffled closer in an attempt to hear what was being said.

“Y’all can stop right there, that’s close enough. Where’s the boss?”

“He’s taking care of some other business real quick, he’ll be here any second now.”

Daniel carefully began to move more to the right to try and get a better look at some of the men from the second group of men when he felt cool metal touch the back of his head. Slowly, Daniel put down his gun and stood up, being sure to let whoever as behind him that he didn’t want any trouble. As he turned around the gun that was previously on the back of his head moved to his forehead, the safety clicking off as he did so.

“I’m sorry Daniel, I didn’t want to have to do this. I’m sure you understand.”

[March 3rd 2020, 10:23 pm]

Logan’s apartment that night was eerily quiet. All the lights were turned off except the television in the living room, a soft blue glow being cast across all the furniture. A plate with half-eaten dinner was left on the small dining table and all the pots and utensils used were left piled in the sink.

Quiet sobs could be heard coming from Logan’s bedroom. There, lying curled up in the fetal position under his duvet was Logan, dressed in a baggy shirt and sweatpants with tear tracks down his face. After he’d read his father’s murder files he’d gone straight back to work and kept busy for the rest of the day. Logan didn’t want to go home that night and be alone with his thoughts. He knew that the walls he’d built all those years ago would come tumbling down if he was left by himself, and that’s exactly what happened.

For 23 years Logan truly believed his father might have come home and in a heartbeat that small slither of hope he had was snatched away. That night Logan finally came to a realisation that was a long time coming, it was just something he didn’t want to admit. He was really, truly, alone. Logan doesn’t have any friends, it’s just a rule of his. He’s worried that if he lets people get too close to him that he’ll lose them. So he keeps everyone at a safe distance, but after being alone for so long, it began to take a toll on him.

Logan had moved from his position on his bed so that he was sitting in the corner of his room, staring at the adjacent wall with his legs pulled up to his chest. The tears had finally stopped, but the deep feelings of brokenness and emptiness inside of him were still there, haunting him. He wanted his Mom back. He wanted his Dad back. He wanted his family back. He wanted to fall asleep and wake up the next morning to the smell of his mother’s blueberry pancakes and the sound of his father complaining about the news. Logan just wanted to feel loved again.

Wiping his face with the back of his hands, Logan pushed himself up off the floor and slowly made his way to the bathroom, turning on the tap and splashing his face with cold water before grabbing his glasses. Once he’d dried himself off Logan walked out to the kitchen, turning on a light and rinsing off the dishes before putting them into the dishwasher and turning it on. The sound of the dishwasher beginning its cycle was more than welcome in the silent apartment, the feeling of loneliness that’d been hanging over Logan’s head slowly disappearing. As he wandered into the living room Logan picked up the large knitted blanket that he kept on the back of his sofa and wrapped it around himself before he sat down, grabbing the television remote and scrolling through Netflix until he found a documentary on space he hadn’t yet watched.

~*~

“Look Lo, a shooting star! Make a wish!” Logan looked up at his mother from her lap, she had her eyes closed and a soft smile on her lips.

“Mommy, what’s a shooting star?” Sarah opened her eyes and admired the young boy in her arms. Logan smiled as she turned him around, resting his head on her chest.

“They’re little pieces of rock that fly through the sky called meteors.” Daniel wrapped his arms around his wife’s shoulders and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek as he explained what shooting stars were to his son.

“Wow...” Logan tried to stifle a tired yawn by pressing his face further into his mother’s shirt, to no avail. His parents laughed quietly as Daniel carefully tried to pick Logan up so that Sarah could stand up. Once she had, the pair walked down the hallway to Logan’s room and tucked him into bed, both of them sitting on either side of the bed.

“Why doesn’t Mommy sing you a song to help you sleep, huh?” Sarah smiled at Daniel and leant down to press a kiss to Logan’s forehead before beginning to softly sing.

“When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are.” Logan closed his eyes as his father joined in, the blanket around him being tucked in ever so gently.

“Anything your heart desires will come to you… If your heart is in your dream...” Logan slowly drifted off to sleep, the sound of his parents quietly singing to him comforting him.

~*~

Logan placed the television remote on the coffee table in front of him along with his glasses and pulled the blanket tighter around him, making himself comfortable lying on the sofa and closing his eyes, a sweet melody escaping his lips.

“No request is too extreme… When you wish upon a star, as dreamers do."

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crimsonblackrose · 4 years

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When looking up things to do I thought going to a museum full of art and old books might be fun so I took the train and then a bus to the National Palace Museum. The bus drop off is a short walk from the entrance for groups, since the public bus stop is also near where tour buses drop off. The first floor is where these bus groups check-in and is also where the gift shop is. However for people or families you’ll want to go up a floor to the regular check-in. Prices are 350 NT$ (US$11.33) per adult. There are several discounts available for international students with ISIC cards, groups or kids.

Before going through security you need to remove any food or drinks from your bag. There’s a section of coin lockers for you to store your things, but small purses or bags are fine. But if you have any water bottles or food they want you to write your name on a paper, tape it to the bottle or container and leave it in the room with everything else, then when you’re ready to leave you can go back and get it.

The museum is three floors and I started on the top floor. I figured it’d be easiest to work my way down. The first part I went to was “Art in Quest of Heaven and Truth” which included jade and some other precious stones.

I learned, in this section, that there are two different types of jade. They’re called jadeite and nephrite. Between the two nephrite is more common and can be found in more places around the world while there are far less places that you can find jadeite. Usually when I think of jade I think of green gemstones, but in reality nephrite can be white, yellow or red as well as different shades of green. Jadeite can be lavender or black as well as green, yellow or white. Jadeite is dense and hard while nephrite is tougher. It was really an interesting thing to learn that these two things made up what we call jade.

But after awhile I got bored of looking at precious jewels and jade. The next section I visited was about incense. I really expected the “Scents of Heaven” to be interactive with locations where you could smell the different scents of wood and was quickly disappointed.

The exhibit was more about Agarwood and the tools and containers for incense. Agarwood comes from a type of aquilaria tree and their resin which covers the wood and is used to make incense.

While there were some things about tools for incense as well as various containers there were also things made out of agarwood, including sculptures, carvings and jewelry.

After leaving the agarwood I visited a section with a long line that tour groups tended to hover around. It turned out to be one of the most famous things on display.

The jadeite cabbage is a beautiful carved piece of jadeite that looks like a head of cabbage and also has some bugs and creatures intricately hidden among the leaves. It was my favorite piece of jade (jadeite/nephrite) that I saw at the museum. I also soon found a nice break from jade and jewels to find a section on illusion and art of optical illusions. It was a bit small but fun.

There were a lot of sections of historical pieces.

On the second floor there was a section on “The Phenomenon of Yixing Ware”

Which essentially was a bunch of interesting looking tea pots. In Yixing County there is a lot of clay that gets used to make these pots and ceramics.

The second floor also held my favorite exhibit which was a collaboration with the local zoos and aquarium. It was for kids but also one that clearly everyone had a lot of fun putting together.

Essentially they had gone through their archives and found their best examples of animals among the art they had and compared the paintings with what the animals actually look like. This included the 12 Chinese Zodiac (+the cat).

And then they had sections of just the animals and information about the animals or the paintings. They also included information about conservation and how we can help these animals or learn more about the dangers they’re facing.

But my favorite paintings included a section where they discussed how historically artists painted animals. It took a lot longer to get around then it does now. Before airplanes and cameras were invented artists had a couple options when someone commissioned them to draw an animal. They either needed to go to where those animals could be found and study them as much as they could. This included days of hiding in the wilderness with paper and trying to commit everything about the animal down. (A great example of this is the beautiful tiger painting I included in the section about the zodiac). But sometimes the artist couldn’t go that far away and would have to instead listen to stories about what those animals look like and use their imagination to draw the animal. And thus you end up with this lovely beast.

It’s a lion. I love it. I love its big floppy dog like ears and concerned face. But it only rivals my love for this mildly accurate but super grumpy toad. The toad was from a much bigger painting but was a close up, and is probably one of my favorite pieces.

After learning about animals and history and art and conservation the section changed to the aquarium’s collaboration which included a ton of really gorgeous pieces.

I really loved this section for kids. It was truly my favorite part of the museum and I’m kinda bummed it was so short lived. It was just up for the summer. I hope they continue to have fun kid content like this. Afterwards I went down to the first floor which included the exhibit: “Compassion and Wisdom: Religious Sculptural Arts”.

And the exhibit I was most excited for: “Rare books and historical documents gallery”.

I guess I’m not sure what I was expecting. I think I was expecting a more in-depth deep dive to why these books are considered rare and a bit about their contents. But a lot of it is government agency documents and books. Which are beyond my scope of understanding on multiple levels. So I mostly just studied the way they were bound and housed.

You also couldn’t take pictures of a lot of them.

I spent most of my day at the museum. A lot of time wandering around looking at things. It was a good way to escape the heat outside. If you get thirsty, while there is no water allowed, there are water fountains on every floor and you can drink there, you cannot carry the water cups with you though, you can only drink in those designated areas.

When I was done I picked up my water bottle from the lockers and then tried to find my way to the restaurant. There’s a cafe in the museum but I wanted lunch.

I ended up going the wrong way. I went down the shaded tree path which led me down into the open courtyard. Instead, I should’ve just walked towards the parking lot and headed in the direction of the library.

I was looking for the restaurant/cafe called Fu-ch’un-chü. The entrance in down the hill behind this sign.

The entrance is here. First when you enter pick your seat, look over the menu and then when you’re ready go back to the front and put in your order and pay. Then it’ll be brought out to you.

I ordered beef noodle soup which a friend was very adamant I have while I was in Taiwan. It was 250NT$.

I also ordered their caramel milk tea iced which was 120 NT$ and came with some crackers. All the caramel flavor seemed to be drizzled on top and not actually through the entire drink which I was disappointed in.

After sitting and eating for a bit I went back to the main museum building, looked around the gift shop then waited for the bus to go back to the train station. Please note that the stop to get off at drops you off a couple blocks away from the station.

The National Palace Museum Taipei When looking up things to do I thought going to a museum full of art and old books might be fun so I took the train and then a bus to the National Palace Museum.

#art #art exhibits #art museums #beef noodle soup #cafes #Fu-ch&039;un-chü #museums #Taipei #Taiwan #the national palace museum #the national palace museum taipei #travel

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lilaswordsandthings · 6 years

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A/N This is the first section of my new Criminal Minds AU Fanfiction for #IllegalcerebralsAUChallenge. This chapter was getting really, really long, so I decided to split them up, so each “Episode” is going to have multiple chapters that are part of it.

[September 16th, 2006 Seattle Washington 3:30:AM]

“Yeah Boss, I’m in…” Breathed a deep, raspy voice.

The person the man was speaking to said something, but whatever it was, was too quiet for the little girl listening to hear. She cowered under her bed, sure that whoever the man was, he was a threat to her and her family.

She’d finally fallen asleep, only to be woken up a few minutes later, by someone throwing a flower pot through her second-floor bedroom window. She’d woken up with a jolt, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. Her head swiveled around the room, her eyes having instantly adjusted to the dark, cut she couldn’t see anything at first. Catlike, she dove under her bed, where she now lay hidden, lying flat on her belly, her thin, linin bed-skirt all that was hiding her from whoever was in her house.

“Don’t worry about it, trust me, they’re not gonna wake up. All I have to do now, is grab the kid and I’m out of here.” The man said.

The little girl shivered with terror as the man’s heavy footsteps came closer and closer. It was all she could do not to scream when she heard the hinge creak as her bedroom door swung open.

“Now…” The man said. “If I were a little girl, where would I hide?” He asked himself, as he rummaged around the room.

She let out a small squeal as she heard him swear when he hit his foot against the large toybox at the end of her bed.

“Ha! There you are…” He exclaimed as he grabbed her by her ankles and pulled her out from under the bed.

[September 16th, 2006, Quantico Virginia 7:00 AM] The FBI’s SRU (Super Natural Response Unit) was tasked with dealing with any and all crimes involving or victimizing America’s growing population of what were collectively called Mystics. Mystics, served as the official, and politically correct, umbrella term for all manner of Vampires, Werewolves, Mermaids, Reapers, Witches/Wizards, Shape-Shifters, basically if it wasn’t your ordinary, everyday, run of the mill human, it was their job to take care of it. All the unit’s members were some form of Mystic themselves. The unit’s youngest member, Dr. Spencer Reid, was a Vampire. On this particular day, they’d been called in just as the sun was rising. He’d learned to take precautions on sunny mornings like this one, specialized sunscreen, sunglasses, long sleeves, gloves, anything to make sure that as little sunlight touched his skin as possible, driving his antique Volvo to work instead of walking to the train station, also helped. Upon his arrival, Reid made a beeline for the coffee bar, filling his travel mug with double-shot espresso and pouring in a small vial’s worth of donated blood, before sweetening it with five tablespoons of sugar. Unable to wait any longer, he took a deep gulp of the hot mixture. Caffeine still did its job, but there was no substitute for blood, not only did it have a smooth, salty flavor that he would never get tired of, but it refreshed him in a way he couldn’t quite articulate. When he set his mug down, he heard the heavy, clomping, unmistakable footsteps of his favorite werewolf, who then howled right in his ear, making him jump. “Geeze Morgan… do you have to do that?” He asked, turning to look at him. Morgan looked almost human at the moment, despite the fact that they were still in the throws of the full moon, sunlight had erased almost all visible traces of his wolf form except for luminescent golden wolf eyes. Still, Morgan could always speak perfect canine, howls and all, no matter where they were in the lunar cycle. “Morning Reid…” Morgan said with a chuckle, his elongated, dog-like teeth still showing as well, with the harsh light coming in through the window, they, and Morgan’s glowing eyes were all Reid could see. “What’s got you so jumpy this morning?” “Have you looked outside lately?” He asked. “What’s the matter? Too bright out there for ya Vampire Boy?” Morgan asked jokingly. “Seriously though, I thought Vampires burst into flames in direct sunlight, so how does sunlight feel to you guys?” He asked. “It’s kind of like a human getting a vat of ice-cold water dumped on them, only once it’s been on you for about ten seconds or so you realize that the water is actually a mild acid and it starts to feel like your skin is burning wherever it touched.” Reid explained. “As for just looking out a non-UV protected window, imagine getting that substance in your eyes.” “Ok ow…” Morgan agreed. “Yeah, not pleasant. Interestingly enough, although the common image of Vampires bursting into flames in direct sunlight is a stereotype, there actually is some truth to it, there are at least five different known forms of Vampirism, all with varying degrees of solar intolerance and all with differing abilities, weaknesses, and needs.” He replied in his characteristic ‘much more than you ever really wanted to know’ way of his. “I’’m what’s called a Moroi, sunlight is painful for us but wouldn’t actually be dangerous unless we went sun tanning at the beach, which no Moroi in their right mind would do anyway. Vampirs are the ones that spontaneously combust in direct sunlight.” “Noted…” Morgan said, trying to digest everything Reid had just told him. “Morning guys…” Came another familiar voice as Emily Prentiss stepped through the glass doors. As always, she wore a long, hooded cloak, as her decapitated head hovered just a couple of inches above her neck. Emily was a Dulahan, the grim reaper of Irish folklore. Her head turned, ninety-degrees to its left, independent of its body, so that it was facing them. Her eyes locked gazes with Morgan, as though transfixed by the glowing wolf eyes the full moon forced him to keep on full display. “Morgan, I think you forgot to change back completely…” Said. “Seriously, those eyes are just creepy.” “Says the girl whose head isn’t attached.” Morgan bit back. “Besides, you do know the full moon lasts for three whole days, not just one night right? Sunlight allows me to change back for the most part, but the eyes and teeth aren’t going anywhere until the full moon actually ends.” “So tonight when the moon rises you’ll be forced to go full wolf-mode again huh?” “Yup… what about you? You planning on walking around like that all day?” He asked. “Well, I could anchor my head to my neck with a collar, or I could just carry my head, but it will stay like this unless I do something with it.” She replied. “Um… guys…” Came another familiar voice. It was the team’s technical analyst and resident fairy, Penelope Garcia. She was floating just a few inches off the ground as her wings, which could appear pink, purple, or blue depending on the angle at which the light hit them, fluttered behind her.“I hate to be the one to rain on the morning parade, especially on such a nice day, but we have a case. Hotch, Rossi, and JJ are already in the conference room.” With that, the they followed her into the roundtable conference room. Reid was grateful to leave the blinding light of the front hallway for the section of the building’s sixth floor that served as the headquarters for the FBI’s newest unit. Their office was much more Mystic friendly, the windows were polarized to keep sunlight radiation out, there was a mini fridge in the corner with bottles of human blood, donated by willing feeders and delivered on a weekly basis, and wolfsbane serum, wolfsbane serum allowed werewolves to retain their normal personalities and control their behavior when they were forced into full wolf form by the full moon. The conference room that they used to present new cases was up a small flight of stairs on a landing above the rest of the office, next to it was a library of both ancient and modern texts concerning all manner of mythical creatures. The rest of the team was already there, Hotch stood, staring at a picture of a little girl on the monitor with a furrowed brow and a worried look in his red, cat-like demon eyes. Rossi and JJ were sitting on the far side of the table, both in human form. As Reid took his place at the conference table there were several photos of the same young girl with a narrow frame, delicate features, inky black hair, and glasses with rounded rectangular lenses in the files in front of him. She looked human, but the closer he inspected the hard copies of the photos, the more certain he became that she was actually a vampire, and more specifically, a Moroi, like himself. She was extremely pale, as though she never went out in the sun without some sort of protection; and her upper and lower canine teeth were noticeably elongated, the fangs of an immature vampire who had yet to lose and replace them with her longer, sharper, adult set. Though she didn’t seem to be more than five or six years old, she was tall for her age, like all Moroi, and as if the teeth hadn’t been enough of a giveaway, the way the camera flash had hit her glasses told him that her lenses were polarized just like the windows in their office, meant to keep her eyes safe from the painful, blinding effects of the sun. JJ, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed Kirin, floated out of her seat in her human form and grabbed the remote off the table in front of her and began the briefing. “This is five-year-old Raven Blackwell, she’s a young Moroi who disappeared from her home in Seattle Washington last night. Her parents, William and Harper Blackwell are Dhampirs, people who carry Moroi genes in their DNA but have few vampire traits. They enrolled Raven in a local public school because there was no night school for Mystics within a hundred miles of their home. When neighbors from across the street went to check things out, They found the parents dead on the floor of the master bedroom, and Raven missing. Her bedroom window was broken. There was a flower pot from the garden on the side of the house lying broken on the floor at the foot of Raven’s bed. The best guess right now is that the Unsub used the flower pot to bust the window open and then used a ladder to get up to the second floor.” She explained. “Well whatever happened, we have two deceased victims and a missing little girl, there’s no time to waste. Wheels up in twenty.” Hotch ordered. [8:10 AM, On the Jet] Reid: “Alone yes, that’s the keyword, the most awful word in the English tongue. Murder doesn’t hold a candle to it, and Hell is only a poor Synonym - Stephen King

“I don’t get it.” JJ exclaimed. “How does a five-year-old get kidnapped out of her bedroom in the middle of the night? Home is where I a child should feel safe.”

“That bothers me too. The whole family were pretty low risk.” Emily added.

“So the one thing we know for sure, is this Unsub definitely enjoys a challenge. Taking out both parents and kidnapping a little girl is ballsy. The question is, who are we even looking for? Is it a single Unsub? Are we looking for a team? Are they Mystic and if so, what kind? Male? Female?” “Motive is gonna mean everything for this case. If she was taken by a pedophile it’s likely that it was another Moroi. Sexually motivated unsubs rarely cross racial lines. As for male or female, we all know the statistics there. Women typically abduct infants, men take children.” Morgan pointed out. “That’s true. However, as we all know, not everyone is on board with the recognition of Mystics as citizens, we can’t rule out a hate crime carried out by humans who may have resented the presence of a Moroi student in a school filled mostly with ordinary humans.” Hotch added. “We need to figure out why she was taken and we need to do it fast. When we land, Morgan and Prentiss, go see what you can learn from the ME, Reid, Dave, go to the victims’ house and walk the crime scene, and JJ and I will coordinate with the CARD team and local authorities.” Hotch ordered.

#illegalcerebral's au challenge #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #JJ #Spencer Reid #David Rossi #Aaron Hotchner #Emily Prentiss #Penelope Garcia #Derek Morgan #alternate universe #mythical creatures

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osang171819 · 6 years

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A Quarter Canvas

By Rosario Patino-Yap

Borja St., Caritan Sur:

The last of the moving van left. I had spent the morning running around the bungalow that had been home to Harold and me. I wandered through the house to see if anything precious was left behind. No, nothing was forgotten. Except for the potted mums that lined the curving pathway. They were newly-watered and weeded. Looking up the heavens in colorful blooms.

My “sunny side up” house echoed in silence. The sunshine yellow house earned that monicker because of my penchant for the color. Inside, no single bric-a-brac that had filled up every nook and cranny was left. The miniature windmill replica Harold bought in Bangui, Ilocos Sur, the rattan hammock that had hung in the verandah, the butaca that had soothed my aching body and soul – all were spirited away in the giant snails called “Aloha Moves It.”

Outside the house, the children played “tumbang preso” and “sha-tong. Summer was when children played these indigenous games of tag. Every now and then, the patpat flew in the air and the children scampered to catch this thin sliver of stick. The morning air was punctuated by gleeful shrieks from the children. So carefree and dead to the cares of the world. The reality reared its ugly head when an ambulant peddler hollered “taho” in the distance. While the neighborhood maglalako shouted off her paninda for the day.

“Ano ba Totoy? Kay aga-aga magtatambay ka na naman dine sa tindahan ko?” Manang Luning’s voice boomed inside her sari-sari store. She was asking for the nth time why Totoy loitered early in front of her store. “Hala, dun ka sa DOTA.net magtambay,” she shooed away the teenager. Like swatting a fly off of one’s food.

“Naku naman, Aling Luning, hindi po wi-fi area itong tindahan nyo,” Totoy retorted. He sheepishly lumbered away from the store.

A dog barked at an unseen cat. The hum of a washing machine had started a neighbor’s day. A balmy air blew and the clothes that hung from the clothesline flapped about madly. They made snapping sounds. In my mind, I had hung clothes out to dry in that clothesline, too. I had carefully slipped shirts into plastic hangers. I had clipped pants onto the line so they dangled there like rows of people doing headstands. They evoked images of torsos, their arms and heads chopped off by some unseen hands.

I stood near the window for a while listening to these familiar sounds. It seemed a cacophony of loved and hated realities of Borja Street. As I stood in the window, I knew my co-teacher Nica was getting ready for work. Armed with her shoulder bag and a luggage that carried her instructional materials, she waited for the tricycle. Nearby, Bryan was displaying wares in his e-bookstore. It promised another busy day for him.

Rousing myself from the reverie, I dusted off the dust and cobwebs that clung to my skinny jeans and tattered halter top. How did these silky threads reach me? I wondered. Tracing the source of the cobwebs, I stood transfixed for a moment at the intricate web. An industrious spider might have spun from one window grill to another when we were not looking. I suddenly noticed the errant tears on my cheeks - and hastily wiped them.

My feet led me to the master’s bedroom - just my OC self doing her work. I unlocked the built-in drawer I seldom opened. I cannot even recall what was in it. I took out a set of keys and tried each one of them. I finally inserted one and the lock clicked open. The air of many years escaped the moment I opened the drawer. It was strange how the years can seep into thing. It called to mind sepia pictures taken by a photographer who had to cover himself together with the huge camera.

A silent gasp escaped from my parched throat. There, hidden in the back panels of the drawer, forgotten and tucked for what seemed to be ages, was Samuel’s painting. It was a “thank you” present he gave me. Weathered and old, the canvas smelled musty.

I took the painting out of the drawer. I gingerly touched it, fearful by doing so it might crumble or smudge off. It seemed cool and soft to my touch. I turned it around. I squinted to read the scrawled note on the edge.

“Dear Ma’am Rhodora, you were the powder keg that sparked my interest to achieve and have a life. Till we meet again. Your best student Samuel”

How long has it been since the painting was given me?

Primero High School

The acacia-lined campus was abuzz. Everywhere, academic discussion and multiple intelligence tasks filled up every classroom of the landmark high school. I sauntered proudly to my room in the Special Program in the Arts building. It seemed another ordinary day for me. I looked forward to some colorful exchange of ideas with my budding artists and grandmasters.

“Mune kamu ta balay na artista yra” greeted me in the stairwell. It welcomed everyone to the abode of the SPA students. A peep into the rooms was like a show window of aspiring dancers, singers, painters, writers and media practitioners. It had always seemed like a preparation for the annual arts festival. Or of the local Pavvurulun.

“Yeah!!!! SPA rocks!!!” Samuel slurred as he strutted inside my classroom during recess. Bloodshot eyes, fleeting eye contact, tottering steps- tell tale signs of something bad. His arm had wounds which were probably self-inflicted as he was wont to do. I worried at the ease of how he sneaked in. After all, “The Terminator” was known for his hawk-like vigilance at the gate.

Seeing me as I enter the classroom, Sandra my student, intercepted me.

“Teacher, iba po ang amoy ni Samuel,” she muttered under her breath. But it was loud enough for me to hear. He was telling me that Samuel reeked of liquor. Even without this information, I knew Samuel was drunk.

As if on cue, Samuel noticed my presence. With pleading eyes and a plaintiff wail, he whimpered, “Teacher, may I just talk to Giselle? Di po nya kasi sinasagot ang mga text ko.” He informed me of their usual lovers’ spat. Gisele had refused to answer his text messages again.

He staggered towards Giselle’s seat but he tripped on his shoelaces. Just as soon, he vomited.

“Oh no!” Giselle screamed in embarrassment. Her scream was like a clarion call for chaos. The class turned into a bedlam. Everyone tried to avoid his outstretched flailing arms. And the gooey puddle of his lunch. Some ran to the back of the room. A few climbed my table. Others rushed out to call the guards. All the while, I stood in the middle of the surging tide.

Samuel was plastered on the floor. The room hushed into silence. Then, like a torrent of rain, his tears came unbidden. The silent and shameless tears that he seemed to have kept at bay fell. It stained and wetted his immaculate uniform. He was curled like a baby inside his mother’s womb and he sobbed inconsolably.

Trying to put some semblance of order inside my classroom, I pulled him up. All 65 kilos of him was forcibly pulled by my small hands. The force - or lack of it, I did not notice- sobered him. He looked lost and embarrassed all of a sudden. He turned to look at the faces of classmates who gawked at the spectacle.

“I am sorry. Oh I am so sorry,” he repeated.

A whistle was sounded. The class was a Red Sea that parted to let the rushing “Terminator” in. Two others were in tow.

“Teacher Rhodora, are you okay?” he asked while he surveyed the situation. The ruckus had reached the guard house and the guidance services. Poor Samuel, he reminded me of a prisoner walking towards the guillotine. His shadowed face cast me a forlorn look.

“Honey, are we set?” my husband Harold’s voice brought me back from that day. Back to the present where I now sit and listened. I smiled sheepishly for being caught unaware then I replied,” Yup, just about.”

I reached for his hand and I stood up. As if hearing his voiceless question, I added, “It’s just that I wanted to double check the house before we left. Then here, I remember the painting given by a former student,” I added.

Harold, noticing the cubism painting in my hands, reached out and brought it into the light. He examined the painting of a mysterious lady with a poignant sad look on her eye. An empty rattan crib before her. The painting seemed to echo my disillusionment of trying to conceive for the longest time. It seemed a dirge to my failed attempts at motherhood. Bittersweet and the pain unfathomed. A silent scream that I have quieted.

“Dear Ma’am Rhodora, you were the powder keg that sparked my interest to achieve and have a life. Till we meet again. Your best student Samuel” Harold read. He stood silent for a few moments. Lost, too, in the message that the painting whispered.

“How long has it been since he was advised by the school to transfer?” he asked.

Again, nostalgia beckoned me. A wave that rushed back to shore after straying in the ocean. The memories came back unbidden after five years.

After thorough investigation and several “call parents,” Samuel was advised to leave the school. He violated rules and regulations. His classmates were somber on the day he said goodbye. I had a fleeting remembrance of him when he first came to my freshmen class. All innocence and raw Ben-Cab talent. I knew then that with proper tutelage and constant practice, he would be a grandmaster. But where had all the innocence and that raw talent gone? What happened in between, I sadly pondered.

I recalled the week after he transferred school. I had my classroom all by myself. The periodic exams were set for the next day hence classrooms had been thoroughly cleaned. Classes were shortened for the purpose. The smell of newly-applied floor wax hung heavy in the air. The armchairs were one seat apart. All systems go for the exams.

I sat to enjoy my late lunch of lechon carajay, eggplant omelet and tomatoes laced with boneless CK bagoong. An iced cold soda perspired beside my Tupperware. And the chewy yema I made the night before promised sweet heaven. That sumptuous feast of deep fried pork and fish sauce plus the caramel could lull one to sleep on that balmy afternoon.

The birds chirped on the ancient acacia trees that dotted the campus. The lilting melody of the ice cream vendo machine could be heard in the distance. The orbit fan hummed and it joined their symphony. Ah, one of life’s simple pleasures, I sighed.

Suddenly, I heard a soft- it not, timid- knock on the door. Samuel stood outside it. He entered the room carrying a big package wrapped in newspaper. He looked his usual old self – immaculate but different school uniform, polished black leather shoes, sun browned face and Gatsbied hair. He walked his cocky walk and a shy smile crept on his lips. I saw a glimpse of the freshman that he was three years before. He came near me and off-handedly gave me the package.

“What is this?” I asked in surprise. I reached for my soda to wash down the last of the carajay.

“It’s a gift, teacher. Open it,” he replied.

“Oh you shouldn’t have bothered.” I felt uneasy for what looked like an extravagant gift. But I fumbled to unwrap the gift. I looked at him. He gazed out of the windows –avoiding my gaze. I waited for him to say something. I knew he had much to say.

“I thank you for never giving up on me, Teacher Rhods” he went on after what seemed like forever. “I realized now that I needed your criticism and your pieces of advice. You kept on at me, despite the others giving up. That had kept me grounded. It put some sense into my muddled head.” He smiled shyly when he said this.

“Oh, that’s what teachers are for,” I replied. I might have sounded flippant to him. Disbelief on the sudden change probably showed in my face because a cloud flitted on his black eyes. But he regained his ground and continued.

“Maybe, God wisely designed the human body so that man can never kick his own self nor pat his own back. Through my rebellious period, you were my parola.”

I tried to swallow the air that blocked my throat. Emotions rendered my tongue immobile. To be compared to a lighthouse echoed in my head. I tried to say a wisecrack or a sensible advice. Nothing came handy.

“Oh by the way teacher, I drew that painting for you. A keepsake.” With those words, he walked away as quickly and as silently as he entered.

“Earth to Rhodora. Paging my dear Rhodora. Whoever saw my sweet Rhodora, please direct her to where I stand.”

The voice of my husband reverberated in the silent room. His voice and his smiling face jolted me from my reverie - the second time that day. I noticed that I have been revisiting the past. I laughed so happily that he couldn’t help but join me in my laughter.

“Tell me honey,” I asked Harold, “What did my student mean when he said I was a powder keg?”

Kissing my hand and holding me in his arms, Harold answered, “Maybe because you had stepped on stage in his darkest moment and had led him out of the dark, then you stepped down and watched him move forward. But your single act of gesture has become the ember that will keep him on the right track wherever life leads him.”

That made sense.

“And maybe, just maybe,” he said sotto voce, and with a twinkle in his eyes,” because you never seemed to grow old, a fresh red rose ever since. The guidance you showed had ignited his passion to live. And hopefully, his passion for the visual arts because he seemed to have lots of promise.”

A wistful sigh escaped from me. In the distance, a bus sounded its horn. A neighbor’s dog barked at the playing children. Manang Luning’s voice competed with the local radio station. The din sounded so familiar that it brought back memories of happy years spent in my “sunny side up.” I don’t know when I started thinking of it as my “sunny side up” home but it always warmed my heart.

The memories came back so vividly. A movie reel that had gone backwards. I could hear the sounds and see the pictures again. It brought to my mind the nights when there were power outages. Everyone was outside his house and just sat under the moonlit night. The mosquitoes were swatted as everyone swapped local tales and rumors. The balut vendor would pass by and offer his pampalakas ng tuhod na balut or penoy as aphrodisiacs for the men. The ubiquitous barbecue stood laden with barbecue, hotdog, isaw, betamax, and iud. I saw the children playing hide and seek or san pedro till fatigue and sleep beckoned them. Online games, tablets, and X-box were unknown then.

It replayed scenes during summers where the popular halo-halo stands dissipated the sweltering heat. If not swarming these ice havens, the children used to have a grand time climbing up the fruits trees. They would help themselves to Lolo Ifan’s mangga, duhat and kallupit. The old folks would do their siesta under the trees or played tong-its.

Again in my de javued mind, I recall Nino, Julius, and Jessem playing ungoy-unggoyan while Chloe and her sister Jiya straddled their trainer bikes. Everyone seemed unmindful of the unending investigation of the SAF incident, or the milk tea poisoning or the corruption of government officials

But it was time to move into our new home a block away from the old one. It was time to savor the good life after a couple of years eking out a living. It was time to quit renting the “sunny side up.” And it was time to leave the painting to the new lessee of the house - Samuel’s long lost father.

Sometimes, life is serendipitous. Who would have thought that the man who wanted to rent the “sunny side up” was his father? Again, I looked back on that meeting with Samuel’s father. Seeing him again who accompanied his father earlier that week - pieced together the puzzle.

“My wife and I parted ways. Looking back, the blow was hard for Samuel to understand,” he broached.

“So he rebelled,” I said softly. My heart aching for those children caught in the crossfire of dysfunctional marriages. It was sad how more and more families throw in the towel and quit the fight for family.

Talking to him for some time that day opened the door. It answered the questions that crossed my mind when his son stopped painting and quit being top student. It filled the gaps of those times when nobody responded to my “call parents”- those letters that requested parents’ meeting.

Samuel that day, a picture of his old self, reassured me,” I am okay now, Ma’am. Life may not be fair but it is still life I would like to live.”

In my mind, I watched them walk away together. A father and a son trying to be family despite being a far cry from the ideal.

We had spent our days and nights in this house. I had slept on my butaca, its rocking motion soothing me on those turbulent nights when I had to come to terms with my miscarriages. The motion was like my mind, moving from today to yesterday and back. But the present has a clearer purpose now.

With light steps and a radiant smile brought about by knowing I had helped a poor child get his acts together despite his dysfunctional family, I hooked my arm onto Harold’s arm. We walked out of the old house and headed east to where our new “ube-ice cream colored” house awaited us. In the distance, I saw the sun diffusing its yellow light on the world. I looked up and welcomed it.

#myearnestdreamwithmyharold

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fuck-customers · 7 years

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Re: Customer Nicknames

Saw an ask this week about nicknames for shitty or creepy customers. I got some.

Underwear Lady - When I worked at a women’s plus sized clothing store, we had underwear out on tables (You buy the pairs individually and we had deals for like 5/$35 for the “cheaper” ones and 3/$33 for the “good” ones.). We had this woman who would always come in with the same damn routine. She’d make a beeline for the underwear and touch it all, say how much she loves our underwear, etc. and we knew to keep watch on her because past employees had said she’d stolen A LOT of it. So we would literally stare at her the entire time she was in. One time, I’d hidden behind a jewelry display and saw her attempting to stuff a huge handful of them in her purse. So I popped out and asked if I could put those on the counter for her. She shoved them back on the display and left.

Madonna - Same clothing store. This woman was stuck in the 80′s, big hairspray hair and all, and always had something pink on. ALWAYS a bright, crayon pink. I’m talking pink T shirt and sneakers with leopard print leggings that were clearly too small for her. She was one of those lovely customers that only bought discounted items, wore them out for the weekend, and then returned them within a week later. She and her husband were super rude and she would always treat us like we were her personal shoppers. One manager would always sing the line "Like a virgin" as the "warning" that she was here.

BO Fedora - Older woman who came into the above mentioned clothing store often. Always wore a fedora, sometimes with a feather, and smelled so badly of BO that we’d have to Lysol the front of the store when she was done (she really only hung around the front to look at the T shirts and wear to work pants).

Shower Cap - A regular who was recently banned from the library I currently work at. Named for always wearing a shower cap. Obnoxious person who always reeked of pot and who would sit here almost open to close, only leaving to go eat. She’d just sit in a chair reading books (that she couldn’t take out because she owed us a few hundred in lost item fees) and then think she was being sneaky by hiding them in the reference section. Also, she sucked on her hands and it was disgusting because ew, people have to touch those books to put them back when they find them. She was banned for being part of a group who we finally caught on camera dealing drugs in the library.

Croissant - A girl who popped up relatively recently. She has stolen multiple books (both donations and library books) by taking the dust jackets which have the barcodes, call numbers, and “tattle tape” (that tape that makes the sensors beep at the doors) off and sticking the naked books in her backpack. She’s been asked to leave the Children’s Department multiple times because she’ll hole herself upstairs where their fairy tale collections are and just lay all her stuff out on the floor, take her shoes off, lie down, eat, etc. She’s also left the library some days and came back wearing completely different clothing like she’s disguising herself (one day she scared the SHIT out of my coworker by randomly appearing next to her in the stacks while wearing a near-opaque veil on her hat, lmao.). My coworker named her “Croissant” because as she’s trying to get… whatever is going through her head across to us, she’ll randomly switch out of her normal speech into a French accent and also sometimes randomly switch to speaking French (either real French or gibberish with French-sounding syllables. I personally don’t speak it, so I wouldn’t know from listening to her at the pace she’s speaking.).

Rotting Leg Lady- A patron who only comes in when it’s warm out and then complains it’s too cold anyway. She has this gross, nasty, odorous, festering wound on her leg that she refuses to get looked at because "the doctors work for the government and I don't trust them" (Damn government doctors. Probably putting chips in all our brains, guys!). APPARENTLY, according to one of our security officers, we can’t call the police to do a welfare check or whatever on her because seeking medical attention is her choice or however he explained it. This woman literally smells like roadkill. She’s completely computer illiterate, which really sucks for us because we have to help her and actually stand close to her and that rotting appendage. Any time she leaves, we use Clorox and Lysol sprays and the smell still does not go away. It’s so concentrated underneath that computer desk that I would honestly not be surprised one day if I thought she was here and found a dead cat or something in the library. She’s been asked to leave for the day multiple times because other patrons complained about the smell. Once, she made the entire grand reading room (think a relatively small store in the mall) stink and her argument that she shouldn’t be made to leave was literally “It’s not dripping on the floor today.” She’s been banned from the movie theatre a friend works at a few buildings down because she’d sit there, sleep in the lobby, leg wound oozing on their fucking floor, stinking the place up like a dead animal, and then not even see a movie. I mean, I sort of do feel bad for her because of the leg, but then when she's totally rude to us because we won't sit and use the computer and fill stuff out FOR her (it's against policy. We cannot handle your information like that even if you give us permission.) and that we can't just stand there and babysit her the entire time because she's not the only patron in the library, all of that goes right out the window.

#submissions #fuck customers #submission

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mommyofmanyhats · 5 years

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Top 16 Funny Mens Halloween Costumes

Halloween is right around the corner and it is the perfect opportunity to start looking for Halloween costumes. If you want to go with something a little different, think about wearing a funny costume. These become a lot of fun when you go to events or just want to wear the costume to work. Here are this mom’s top 16 funny mens Halloween costumes for this year.

Hilarious and Family Friendly Mens Halloween Costumes

Dad jokes and embarrassing your kids are the perfect addition to these family friendly Halloween costumes for the man in your life. Here are a few of this mom’s favorite funny costumes sure to be a hit this year.

Ace Ventura Pet Detective Costume

Crack the case with this Ace Ventura Halloween costume. It includes his button down shirt seen in the movie, along with a pair of striped shorts. Of course, the pink tutu is included! You just can NOT reenact your favorite Jim Carrey scenes without his pink tutu! Finally, the wig fits easily on your head with an elastic band and features the Ace iconic hairstyle. You will have no problem tracking the clues and getting to the bottom of things while wearing the ensemble.

Captain Obvious Costume

You can be the one at the helm, stating the obvious announcements at your next costumed affair as Captain Obvious. This red jacket with official-looking cording and medals will give you the authority to state with confidence that someone is dressed as a cat or another person has fallen down when they trip on the door jamb, because who knows when the so-called obvious facts just might save the day!

Reno 911 Costume

How great are your legs? This Reno 911 costume is super fun and funny Halloween costume! You can wear the shorty shorts that Lt. Dangle wears in the popular television show. This brown costume includes the shirt and shorts from his police uniform, along with a belt and police badge. Complete the costume with other accessories for the police uniform costume, including wigs and sunglasses.

Lost Dog Funny Costume

This is a hilarious Lost Dog Halloween costume that is all in good fun. This oversized costume is made to look like a woman who is looking for her puppy, when it is actually stuck to her rear end. The costume is one size, so that it fits most teenagers and adults. The dress is pink polka dots so you will be sure to stand out. It even includes the wooden sign.

Monkeyin’ Around Costume

This fun monkey costume has the appearance of a person with a monkey riding on their shoulders. It is an adult size costume in just one size, so it should fit most adults. The costume is one piece, and pulls on covering your body from neck to feet. All you need to do is put on some shoes and decide how to do your hair and makeup. The bodysuit is in multiple colors and has a cute monkey on the back as if it is riding on your shoulders.

Whoopie Cushion Costume

Pranks these days… all elaborate in their conception, secretly filmed no doubt, and then uploaded to Youtube… you kids with your cameras, your technology! *shakes fist* Back in our day we didn’t have any of that, and we still managed to make ourselves laugh at the expense of others. Just look at our old whoopie cushion. Put it under an unsuspecting person’s couch cushion, then when they sit down you got that hilarious toot noise! Look at the diagram on the front; someone probably drew that in 1952, and we still laugh about it to this day today. The whoopie cushion will never go out of style, and this costume proves that fact.

Lunch Lady Costume

When I hear Lunch Lady I immediately think of Adam Sandler’s song, oh wait maybe I’m dating myself here. Grab this iconic Lunch Lady Halloween costume and you can start making those sloppy joes extra sloppy for all your friends. Not only do you get the dress and food-stained apron along with the goofy wig, but you will also get a little extra junk to add to your trunk. The padded butt cheeks are truly the cherry on top of this hysterical costume. Get your hands on some cookware filled with party favors to complete this fun new look.

Upside Down Costume

The costume creates the optical illusion that we’re standing on our hands even though—spoiler alert— we’re not! The upside down costume consists of a unisex romper to create the appearance your hands are actually your feet. Stuffed shoes are at the end of legs that you can stuff w/ newsprint or tissue. The stuffed head hangs between your legs to play a fun Halloween trick on anyone who catches a glimpse of you. A mesh inset at the top of the costume ensures you’ll be able to see where you’re going.

Price Is Right Contestant

Come On Down!

Whether your gameshow dreams lie with the Plinko, Punch a Bunch or Hole In One, there’s only one place to start and it’s behind a microphone and a number board.

All This Can Be Yours

This costume is great for a game show party, showing up to the actual game show to really blow Drew out of the water, and Halloween parties. You’ll get the number board, the microphone, and the name tag so Drew will know who to call a winner.

Funny Inflatable Halloween Costumes for Men

Inflatable has been all the rage the last 2 years in Halloween costumes, and it all started with that T-Rex costume and memes. Everywhere you looked was people waddling around with those short arms and wagging tail. Start a new trend this year with these great inflatable mens Halloween costumes ideas.

Inflatable Sumo Wrestler Pick Me Up

When you go to a sumo match, start munching on popcorn and wearing a foam #1 glove, you should know you have gone too far. You weren’t really in trouble until you got to the ropes and started giving the wrestlers tips.

You’ll look like you’re being carried by an angry Sumo wrestler when you inflate this hilarious costume! All you need to make it work is four AA batteries and the windbreaker material will puff right up. The sumo wrestler’s face looks very irritated so you can pretend to be in a lot of trouble while your tiny inflatable flails around in front.

Inflatable Red Wavy Arm Guy

Incredibly bendy inflatable red wavy arm guy. Really bendy inflatable red wavy arm guy. I can hear the chant in my head over and over again, but I can’t remember which show it’s from. This inflatable red wavy arm guy will certainly stand out at any party!

Inflatable Man in Tub Costume

You will no longer have to fear falling into puddles. Finally, you’ll be able to easily clean up after eating barbeque pork ribs at the local rib shack.

The Inflatable Man in Tub Costume is lightweight and easy to get into, the tub is guaranteed to stay inflated while you party thanks to a battery operated fan. It also comes with a cute shower cap and yellow rubber ducky, which is attached to the edge. It’s the perfect way to make a splash at your next costume party.

Provocative and Slightly Dirty, but Funny Mens Halloween Costumes

Some people just can not help themselves. It’s risky, dirty thoughts all day long. If that describes you, then these costumes are going to perfect for you. So here are this mom’s favorite slightly dirty, funny mens Halloween costumes.

Happy Cactus Costume

See what I mean, it’s you, you have the dirty mind. This really is just a cactus. Promise. Our prickly friend here comes complete with the green cactus and orange clay pot.

Genie and Magic Lamp Costume

Do you just want to be rubbed? There three rules every genie must know: no wishing for more wishes, no bringing the dead back to life, and well there was one more I think. Oh ya! No mortal can wish for another mortal to fall in love with them! This last one is generally the real tough one for people to follow, so all genies must be prepared for wishers to try to come up with innovative ways to get around that problem… Like perhaps wishing for things that others tend to love. (Of course, that never works out either.)

So, with all that in mind, we feel that you’re ready to go out into the world and tackle the legion of mortals seeking your attention. Before you go out into the world, be sure to don your traditional genie garb, this Genie and Magic Lamp costume. A hot genie all bottled up for countless generations, just waiting for someone to rub your lamp the right way and release you from your containment, and unlimited cosmic power to boot!

The green polyester vest with bright gold accents will give a clear call to your mystical nature, the decision of shirt or no shirt is your choice. Your gold tasseled hat is certainly an additional giveaway. Golden wrist cuffs keep you bound to your oaths—no removing those, ever! A vivid polyfoam lamp belt features gray smoke netting and clear instructions for anyone unfamiliar with the rules of making a genie come to grant their wishes! Make some magic happen, but remember those rules!

Squirrel with Nuts

This squirrel Halloween costume is both cute, funny, and well a little nuts! It is a lighthearted costume appropriate for just about anything. Only YOU can make this a family friendly costume, or a nutastic costume with your attitude. Whether you are trick-or-treating, attending a Halloween party, or even going to work or school, you will have a great time. It is in a grey color and is made of polyester.

Banana Flasher Costume

What is easier and more fun than wearing a big yellow banana for Halloween? This is another costume that is not only funny, but easy to wear no matter what type of event you may need it for. The costume itself is inexpensive and perfect as a last minute option. Sometimes you just don’t want to think too hard about your costume. Along with giving everyone an eye peeling experience, you’ll be sure to get plenty of laughs…

Finding The Perfect Funny Mens Halloween Costume Accessories

Attention truly is in the details. With every costume, there are those little things that will take an ordinary costume to a first place, prize winning costume. Here are a few accessories to think about when planning your funny mens Halloween costumes.

Funny Halloween Eyes

No costume is complete without the perfect set of funny eyes. There is something for everyone here.

Halloween Costume Wigs

It’s not always the easiest thing to get the perfect hairdo to go with your costumed look unless you have a costume wig. A wig can easily and quickly change your Halloween look in the blink of an eye. There is something for everyone and every costume. Check out some of the wig options below.

Halloween Makeup

Put that finishing touch on your look easily with Halloween makeup. Whether you plan on dressing up like a frightening zombie, the Terminator, or a wicked witch there are several makeup kits out there that will do the trick. There are also specialized makeup kits that are designed to help you look like your favorite pop culture figures and movie.

More Halloween Ideas

Are you looking for more Halloween costume, decoration, and party planning ideas? Check out these posts for some more of this mom’s recommendations:

Top 29 Easy Scary Halloween Costumes to Scare Your Socks Off

Cutest Costumes for Babies and Toddlers

Best Costumes for Couples

Halloween Party Food Ideas

Planning a Halloween Party

Do you have a favorite funny Halloween costume that we should add? Comment below, we are always looking to expand our list.

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from Mommy Of Many Hats http://mommyofmanyhats.com/top-16-funny-mens-halloween-costumes/

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