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complexgods-backup · 3 years

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Isn’t It Cliché? Chapter 1

Ship: DaiSuga (Haikyuu!!)

Summary: “Suga almost dropped the pen he was holding as he saw what was probably the most handsome man he has ever seen enter the Starbucks. He looked extremely tired, and Suga wondered if he was hungover. He had short brown hair and gorgeous brown eyes, and Suga couldn’t help but notice his biceps straining the fabric of his shirt as he took off his coat. Quickly pushing away any impure thoughts, Suga put on his best employee smile as he took his order.”

Sugawara Koushi moves to Tokyo with a broken heart and a desire to start over and falls for a handsome stranger that frequents the coffee shop he works at. Unfortunately, it’s harder for Suga to get him to open up than he thought. It’s all pretty cliché.

Word Count: 2418

Beta-read by: @mesreves

Warnings: None

A/N: This fic has become somewhat of a passion project of mine, I hope you enjoy it! I already posted 5 chapters on ao3, so feel free to read the rest (and all the tags) on there! I will try and post the chapters as regularly as uni will let me! The fic is under the cut :)

“Fuck, I’m already late,” Sugawara groaned as he finally awoke with his third alarm. It was his first day at his new job and he really needed the money, so being late was not an option and it was already 7:32 am. He dressed in a hurry, popping some toast into the toaster as he gathered all his things. He ran outside his apartment with one shoe still untied, his coat barely over his shoulders, and the piece of toast in his mouth. I can’t get any more cliché , Sugawara thought to himself as he ran down the stairs to run to the subway. Thankfully, there was a subway stop right by his apartment building and he lived only a few stops away from the Starbucks he got hired at.

As he stepped outside, the crisp autumn air hit his face and he instantly lifted his head to smell the fresh air. Autumn was his favourite season, mainly because the world turned golden brown for a few weeks and the sunsets were phenomenal. He couldn’t wait to explore the new city he moved to and watch the sunset from all around the city. He pushed the thought aside as he swallowed the last piece of toast and walked into the station, focussed on finding the right platform. He constantly checked his phone to see which stop he needed to get out at, still unsure about his orientation skills in Tokyo. Even though he visited the city multiple times as a kid, he knew that getting lost was inevitable. He watched the sun rise higher over the city as the subway continued on its journey, cramped full of people going to their 9 to 5. When his stop came up, he pushed himself out of the cart, cursing himself that he was so far back. He hated inconveniencing people.

Despite all the hassle, he managed to be in front of the Starbucks ten minutes early, signaling to his coworker already inside that he was there. Once the manager gave him his apron, she left Sugawara’s coworker to show him the ropes. Although he had already been employed at a Starbucks before, it was protocol to explain how everything worked, so he listened diligently to his coworker, who was called Yamaguchi Tadashi.

“It’s the busiest right before 9 am and after 4 pm, so you’ll be with at least two other people then. Our other colleague will be here any minute, but you’ll only take orders and work at the cash register today. That sound good?” Suga nodded, impressed at how the other took charge. When he first met him after his interview, he seemed so shy and insecure, but he was clearly in his element. Despite Sugawara being two years Yamaguchi’s elder, he did not dare speak informally to him yet, quite frankly intimidated by his authority. As soon as Yamaguchi seemed pleased with Sugawara’s work, a gorgeous woman, no older than Sugawara, walked in, and he couldn’t help but blush a little bit as she turned to him and wished him a good morning.

“I’m Kiyoko Shimizu, I’m the shift manager and I’ll be working the orders with Tadashi today, it’s nice to meet you.” She gave a shy smile and he nodded at her.

“Nice to meet you, Kiyoko-san! I’m Sugawara Koushi, but you can call me Suga.” He flashed her a smile to emphasize how happy he was to meet her.

“Oh no need for the honorifics, we’re all the same age group and I’m not a big fan of formalities. Just call me Kiyoko!” Suga smiled and nodded as she walked to the back of the store to put down her things and get her apron.

Yamaguchi didn’t lie when he said that most people come through before 9 am, as the shop got extremely busy within minutes. Most of the time, the orders were pretty simple and Suga’s endless patience seemed to serve him well. He didn’t mind taking up orders, knowing that making all those complicated drinks were oftentimes less fun to make, especially if it was busy. But Yamaguchi and Kiyoko seemed to know each other extremely well, making their work ethic impeccable.

Suga didn’t even notice how fast the time went by, and when he next looked at the clock that adorned the wall opposite the till he saw it was already 10h30am. The shop was quieter now that most people got their morning coffee before work, and the three could have short conversations between customers.

“So what do you study?” Kiyoko asked, biting down on a cinnamon roll a customer decided they didn’t want after Yamaguchi had already warmed it up.

“I’m in my second year of Japanese Studies and Elementary Education. I transferred here this year because my old uni was not a good fit for me. What about you?” He asked his peers, who in turn said what they studied. Yamaguchi was an engineering major and Kiyoko was in her last Bachelor's year of studying History of Art. They were interrupted as a customer opened the door. Suga almost dropped the pen he was holding as he saw what was probably the most handsome man he has ever seen enter the Starbucks. He looked extremely tired, and Suga wondered if he was hungover. He had short brown hair and gorgeous brown eyes, and Suga couldn’t help but notice his biceps straining the fabric of his shirt as he took off his coat. Quickly pushing away any impure thoughts, Suga put on his best employee smile as he took his order. He tried his best to hide the blush that slowly crept over his cheeks as he heard how gruff the man’s voice sounded.

“I’ll have a caramel frappuccino with three extra pumps of caramel syrup and an extra shot of espresso.” The man said, which surprised Suga for some reason. He didn’t expect the man to have such a sweet drink but he refused to let the shock show on his face as he asked for the customer’s name to write on the cup.

“Sawamura.” He gruffed, barely looking up at the barista. Suga figured he was too hungover and/or tired so he didn’t think much of it as he wrote his name on the cup with a little smiley face next to it, handing Kiyoko the cup. When his order was done, he sat down where he put his coat and immediately plugged his headphones into his phone, and started typing on his laptop.

“He most definitely forgot an assignment he was supposed to write during break.” Yamaguchi giggled as they all secretly watched the man type furiously.

“Do you know who he is?” Suga asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. The other two just shrugged.

“No. He comes here a few times a month and orders ridiculously sweet drinks. He usually stays a few hours.” Kiyoko answered, seeming uninterested. Suga nodded and decided to drop the matter. Soon there were more people coming in and out of the café and Suga was too busy to pay him any more mind. He met one other of his coworkers as Yamaguchi’s shift ended earlier. He was small and energetic, and Suga found out that he studied sports. Makes sense, Suga thought to himself as he smiled at how much energy Hinata seemed to have.

After his shift finally ended, Suga was glad to get back to his small apartment. It wasn’t anything big or fancy, but it was enough for him. There were some unpacked boxes still in one corner of the apartment that he had neglected the entire week in favour of exploring the city. He wasn’t big on decorating except for a string of fairy lights and a big houseplant his best friend gave him when he moved away.

The one thing he was thankful for in his small apartment was his bathtub. Even though it wasn’t exactly the biggest bathtub he had ever seen, he was very fond of it. It was the perfect size for him, even though he had to bend his knees to comfortably have his shoulders underwater. He loved taking hot baths after a long day, letting the hot water ease the aches and pains of the day, getting lost in his thoughts with nothing but two candles illuminating his small bathroom. Today was no different. As he sank into the mixture of bubbles and warm water, he let his mind wander, phone on silent. He mentally planned out the next week because that was when his classes would officially be starting. He made a mental note of all the things he still needed to do before bed as he closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the bath engulf him. Subconsciously, his mind wandered back to that man from the Starbucks this morning. What was his name again? Sam… Something. No, Sawamura, that was it. He couldn’t help but remember how handsome he looked, even though he seemed to be having the hangover of his life. Suga wondered what he would look like with a good night’s rest and maybe if he wasn’t that grumpy or stressed out. Sighing, he tried to push the image of the handsome stranger out of his mind. He was done falling for people and getting into relationships for now anyways, especially with what happened with his ex… He left him with a broken heart and trust issues, and he didn’t think he’d be able to go through that kind of pain again anytime soon.

God, you’re so pathetic , Suga thought to himself. Are you really planning your future with some guy? Just because he’s handsome and mysterious and most definitely out of your league? And most probably painfully heterosexual… Get a grip on yourself.

He sighed and opened his eyes, pulling himself out of the bathtub, drying himself off, and getting ready for bed. Tomorrow was going to be a hell of a day, mainly because he had no idea what to expect from his new University, especially how the people were going to be.

He fell asleep the instant his head touched the pillow, content he could finally fall into a dreamless slumber.

…

Suga woke up with a start, confused as to why his alarm rang even though it was still dark out. When he looked at his phone, he realised that it was not his alarm but, in fact, his best friend trying to FaceTime him. Sighing, he accepted the call.

“Asahi, what do you want? It’s almost one a.m.” Suga groaned, rubbing his face.

“Oh no did I wake you? Sorry! But also I’m not sorry because you promised we’d call today! Didn’t think you’d forget..” Asahi said on the other side of the phone and Suga mentally slapped himself.

“Right, sorry… I forgot… Today was a lot and I just got settled at work and… Ugh… I’m sorry. But I’m here now! How was your day?” Suga asked, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

“No worries! Just wanted to check in to see if you were still alive. My day was alright, I’m getting ready for tomorrow and I’m kinda nervous.” Suga could tell that Asahi was more than “a bit nervous” so he sat up in bed, facing the camera in earnest.

“You’ll do great! Uni is hard but it’s important to remember that every single first-year goes through the same! I promise it’ll be alright!” Asahi only frowned in response to his encouragement, clearly skeptical.

“But you have it so easy, Suga. It’s so difficult for me to talk to new people.” Asahi all but pouted. Suga sighed.

“Yeah I know, but I promise you a lot of people are the same, and you being like that hasn’t stopped us from being friends, right?” Suga prompted, smiling at the camera.

“Yes, but we were neighbours. Also, we’ve been friends since we were 5. You’re kinda stuck with me.” Asahi smiled and Suga just shook his head.

“You’re so stubborn. You’ll be fine! You can always text me if you get anxious but please try and at least talk to one person. Can you do that for me?” Suga asked and he could see Asahi calm down the more they talked.

“Yes, I’ll try. Alright, tell me about your day!” Asahi said excitedly, leaning his face closer to the camera.

“Oh, it was nice actually! I mean it was exhausting but my colleagues are super nice! One of them would get along really well with Noya actually, he has so much energy and is so positive, they’d be the best of friends in no time.” Asahi’s face smiled sadly at the mention of his boyfriend. They’ve been long-distance for four months and Suga knew how much his best friend missed him.

“But yeah the other people are really kind as well. Remember that shy boy that was working when I had my interview? Turns out he is actually a badass behind the counter and he could shit-talk for days.” Suga laughed at that, knowing that Asahi disapproves of anything that has to do with making fun of others.

“I’m glad that your coworkers are nice!! I miss hanging out with you” Asahi said, his face pulled into a frown yet again.

“I do too. But hey I’ll be coming back for a weekend soon and we’ll be able to hang out together!” Suga prompted, trying to stifle a yawn.

“Yes, that’s true. Alright, you look tired, you should sleep” Asahi said, and Suga agreed. His head felt heavy and his eyes were closing despite his will to keep them open.

“We’ll call tomorrow after your first day’s over! I think I’ll be free after 4 pm so just call me when you have time” Suga sleepily smiled at the camera as they said their goodbyes and he immediately fell back asleep.

He awoke the next morning with his first alarm, something that didn’t happen often. He decided to enjoy the morning then, having more than an hour to get to the subway: he had a strong cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal as he mindlessly scrolled through his phone. After sending Asahi a few memes as was his morning ritual, he ran down the stairs to get to his uni. He had visited it a few times before moving, so he was more confident in finding his way from the subway to the doors of the main building.

#daisuga #daisuga fanfic #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu #sawamura daichi #sugawara koushi #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #my fic #reblogs and comments are appreciated!

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petri808 · 4 years

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A Special Mommy

SFW Todomomo. A!Todoroki, O!Yaororozu. written for a twitter event, parent prompt.

It was tough when Alpha Shouto Todoroki was left a single parent raising two young children after his Omega wife lost her battle to cancer the previous year. The woman had been the love of his life, his mate, and it took a heavy emotional toll just to keep it together for the children’s sakes. So, for six months after the funeral, his sister Fuyumi would watch the children while he worked, providing them some stability.

The twins were only 3 years old and understood enough to know their mother was now an angel watching over them. Perhaps it was the innocence of childhood, to be comforted with mystical beliefs. But it was a relief nonetheless how well they were handling the loss. His family had been a lot of help, but he didn’t want to keep relying on them. So, one day his sister suggested he look into hiring a live-in nanny.

“You make enough to afford it Shouto. Someone who’ll come in, do some cooking, cleaning, and be with the children. We’ll still lend a hand, but Ryouta and Shiori could use a constant presence in their life, a surrogate mother in a way.”

Todoroki sighs and hangs his head. “You’re right. Though I don’t even know where to begin looking.”

“Hmm, place a job ad and I’ll help you screen applicants.”

“Thanks Fuyumi.”

Two weeks and several interviews later, Shouto was ready to give up. Each applicant they’d gone though just didn’t fit right to him. In fact, many of them seemed more eager to get close to a single Alpha then be a serious nanny. Until one day at work, he received a call from his sister telling him to drop by her home after work. ‘Ugh…’ not another one, he groans. He just wasn’t in the mood today.

As he walks up to the front door, Shouto immediately hears female laughter coming from inside. He lets himself into the home and goes into the living room where he finds Fuyumi and a pretty young woman sitting at the kotetsu.

“Shouto, come, come,” his sister waves him over. “I’d like you to meet Ms. Momo Yaoyorozu. She’s here for the nanny position.”

The woman stands up and bows to him. “Pleased to meet you Mr. Todoroki.”

“Like wise Ms. Yaoyorozu. Please, he gestures back to her seat. Formalities are not necessary.” He takes a position opposite of the woman. “It appears you two are getting along well.”

“I like this one,” Fuyumi beams, throwing in a small wink at her brother. “Ms. Yaoyorozu has all the right qualifications, first aid training, the works.”

He tips his head to the side, “Tell me, is your father an importer, because your family name is familiar to me.”

“Yes! He deals in beverages, mostly coffee and tea import and export from around the world.”

“Then why would a woman of such family standing and means want to be a nanny?”

She looks down with a slight frown, “well, you see I cannot have a family of my own. I’m infertile so no Alpha would want me.” Momo looks up again with a deep exhale, “but I love children,” she beams, her scent switching to elation. “It was a friend of mine that showed me the ad and suggested I try it out.”

His heart seized up from her words, and the light hint of sadness in the Omegas scent. To live your life thinking no one would want you just because you couldn’t bear a child had to be painful, and yet here this woman was smiling. When he’d arrived, her scent held no sadness which told him she didn’t let this get her down. That took strength.

“You’re hired.”

“Wait, really?” Momo holds up her resume to him, “don’t you want to review my resume first?”

He gently pushes them back to the table. “I don’t need to. My sister approved of it or she wouldn’t have called me, and I believe what you just told me now.” Shouto turns to Fuyumi, “did you tell her what happened to my wife?”

Fuyumi shakes her head. “I thought it best to let you explain why you need a nanny.”

By the time Shouto finishes the story, he could see the woman was holding back tears, because the moisture was evident in her eyes. It only reinforced his decision to hire her. “I am looking for a live-in, you understand? Because my job is a very busy one and the hours vary widely.”

“I’m truly am sorry for your loss Mr. Torodoki. But I know who you are,” Momo blushes. “You’re one of the top heroes of our country so I understand why it would be best this way.”

“Shall I bring the kids in,” Fuyumi questions her brother. He nods and she leaves the room, returning with the two flanking her sides. “This is Ryouta,” ruffling the boy’s hair. “And this is Shiori,” squeezing the girls hand. “They’re three-year-old fraternal twins. Can you say hi to miss Yaoyorozu?” She prompts the children.

“Hi,” they both respond still shying, hiding around their aunts legs.

Momo giggles with a smile, “it’s nice to meet you Ryouta and Shiori.”

“Miss Yaoyorozu will be coming to live with us,” Todoroki tells the children. “She’s helping daddy take care of the house and you while daddy’s at work. Is that okay?”

Both children side-eye each other for a moment as if communicating without words. Then turn back and nod, “otay.”

“I look forward to taking care of you two,” Momo addresses the children. “You can call me Momo.”

“Aunty…”

“Momo.”

“Aunty Momo is perfectly fine,” she beams back. “How adorable!” She looks to the adults. “Do they often finish each other’s sentences?”

“Sometimes,” Shouto answers.

“I think they’re adorable.”

After Fuyumi sends the kids off to play, and leaves to work on dinner, the two adults finish their conversation. Between Shouto and Momo, they figure out when she’ll move in, the room she’ll have, salary, and any other pertinent information. Since this is the first time he’s ever worked with a nanny, they were bound to figure out other details along the way.

“I just want to thank you for this opportunity Mr. Todoroki.”

“Call me Shouto, please let us dispense with the formalities from now on. I’d prefer to feel like you’re a part of the family rather than an employee.”

The woman blushes. “O-Okay, Shouto. It really means a lot to me to do this.”

“No, thank you Momo. Your help is greatly appreciated.”

When he returned home that evening, Shouto felt like a small weight being lifted off his shoulders. The senses he got off the woman put him at ease, or was it her scent? It was calm and very relaxed, a person who is comfortable within themselves. Even though she knew who he was, it was obvious her intentions were focused on the children and that’s exactly what he was looking for.

Ryouta and Shiori meant everything to him. It was a chance to be the kind of father he never had. Them losing their mother so young also brought back emotions from his childhood, because his mother was not in his life for many years. Having Momo around will fill the kind of void that he never had filled, and perhaps will bring the woman her own peace and fulfillment.

After putting the kids to bed for the night, he looked at Momo’s resume. She was educated at a private school, well read and articulate based on the resumes verbiage, and her hobbies were simple enough. Shouto chuckled when he read that part. A tea connoisseur. She also had a very interesting quirk. ‘I wonder why she didn’t go into hero work?’ He dismisses the question for a later time and continues reading its description of a creation classification. The irony of having the ability to create anything, but the bearer is left without the ability to procreate. His brows furrow. Sometimes he questioned why life worked in these ways.

The following week, Momo moves into the Todoroki residence. Having come from money, the size of the home wasn’t a surprise, but the Japanese aesthetics were different than the Western style her father preferred. As she walked the halls and explored her new surroundings, she could still smell traces of the previous Omega, Shouto’s wife, lingering. It didn’t bother her one bit. Life was such a cruel thing to take a young mother away from her children or leave her mate all alone. Momo couldn’t fathom such a loss but knew the feeling of emptiness all too well. It made her all the more determined to make sure the twins had as normal seeming a life as possible.

“Yosh!” She rolls up her sleeves and gets to work setting up her room. It was a guest room, but she swore it was just as large as a master, complete with its own bathroom. There was three hours left before the kids finish preschool and she’d pick them up, so she wanted to get as much as she could done by then.

Time passes by like a babbling brook all smooth and gentle. The Todoroki family truly made her feel welcome and before long, her place in the home was a comfortable one. Momo felt less like a hired nanny and more like a member of the family.

With dinner’s completed, she works with the twins on their homework. At a preschool age it was quite minimal work but important for the foundation of their language skills. She set them up at a low table, the three of them huddled around it with the workbooks next to each other. The lesson today was matching words to pictures.

“Tori,” Momo repeats. “Which picture do you think that is?” At first the kids just stare, their brows furrowed unsure. “A tori is an animal with wings,” she flaps her arms in a flying motion. “So which picture has wings?”

The children point to a bird.

“Correct, Tori is bird!” She claps excitedly. “One more time. Point at the picture and sound out the word.”

“To-ri.”

“Very good! You guys only have one more to go! Okay, uma. Which one is an uma?”

One child points correctly, the other points to a cow.

“Shiori is correct. So uma is horse. One more time, point to the picture and sound out the word.”

This time both children point to the horse, “U-ma.”

“Very, very good!”

Ryouta and Shiori bounce excitedly in the spots, “yay!”

At that moment Momo sees them look up, past her. She turns and follows their eyes, seeing their father standing there with the biggest smile on his face. “Oh! Shouto welcome home! Are you hungry, I can make you a plate.”

He shakes his head. “Are things going well?”

“Oh yes, they pick up very quickly.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it,” he smiles again. “And don’t worry I’ll make my own plate for dinner, thank you Momo.”

“You’re welcome,” she smiles then goes back to the homework.

Shouto walks away towards his bedroom to change out of his costume and shower. But as soon as he was in the safety of the room, he braced himself against the door. ‘I hope she didn’t notice…’ seeing Momo with the kids, it was so… perfect. The juxtaposed emotions of sadness and joy had rushed over him at the sight, making his heart race and his inner Alpha squirm. He just hoped the woman didn’t pick up on the scent change.

That should have been his wife, sitting there with their children as they learned new things. It was unfair she didn’t live to see these moments. But at the same time, to see them so happy and relaxed with Momo warmed his heart too. Even though their biological mother couldn’t be here for them, she was becoming an amazing replacement.

It’s been almost a year since Momo had entered their lives and the vision of normalcy was simply beyond any expectations he could have had by taking on the nanny. Ryouta and Shiori were thriving, the house was tidy, and the Omega was a wonderful cook as well. It felt like a real home. Shouto sighs, ‘and her scent is just pulling to me.’

The woman has never done anything to cross that boundary. Momo was professional through and through. He too was torn no matter how lonely he was, because he wanted to be loyal to his dead wife. But the fact her base scent is setting off his inner Alpha spoke volumes. Friends, counselors have told him it’s okay to move on. But was he actually ready to?

That question was getting harder and harder to ignore, the longer Momo was in his life. He’ll always love his wife she was his first love. But… maybe it was time to move on. His children deserved a mother figure and who better than the woman they’d already developed an attachment too?

But he couldn’t make that decision on his own. Even the idea of courting Momo, Shouto wanted to make sure his children would be okay with it first. If they said no, he would understand. Maybe it was too soon for them to replace their mother and he had to respect it.

So, a few days later when his schedule clears, Shouto gives Momo the day off and takes the kids out for some ice cream. As they sit in the café eating, he decides to pop the question.

“Momo’s been with us for a year already. Do you two think she’s a good fit with us?”

“Uh-huh,” they mumble between the licks. “She nice.”

“I like Aunty Momo,” Ryouta adds.

“Me too,” Shiori confers.

“I’m glad you guys like her, because daddy’s thinking about courting her.”

“What dat?”

“Making her my mate and your new mommy.”

“But we have mommy awedy in heven?”

“Yes, and you always will. She would be another mommy.”

Ryouta sits up and his eyes brighten. “Wow, we gets more mommy’s?!”

“Daddy we spwecial?!” Shiori asks too.

Shouto chuckles and ruffles their hair, “very, very special.”

“Cool!” The kids high five and go back to eating their ice cream.

The Alpha sits back with a smile, well he got his answer. It was a bit of a surprise how quickly they warmed to the idea, but the answer was clear. “Before we go home, let’s get Momo some pretty flowers.”

“Otay!”

“But remember kids, don’t tell Momo about daddy’s plan, he wants to surprise her.”

“Otay daddy!”

With a bouquet of flowers picked out by the twins and a take-out dinner, the trio head back home where they find Momo lounging on the couch with a book and a cup of tea.

“Aunty Momo!”

“Hi, did you have fun today?” She hugs the twins as they rush up and jump on her.

“Dis fo you,” Ryouta thrusts the bouquet at her. “Daddy said he wanna cut you so dis a gwift.”

“Ryo!” His sister whacks him. “Das a secwet!”

“Oops!”

Momo’s eyes widen. “Huh?!” She looks at Shouto, “w-what are they talking about?”

Oh shit! He quickly prompts the kids off her. “Go play in your room till I call you for dinner.”

“Sorry daddy!”

“It’s fine, you’re not in trouble, just please go play so Momo and I can talk.”

“O-tay,” their shoulders slump a little, but they do as their told.

“Shouto, what— did I hear them right?” She felt so blindsided. “You want to court me?!”

He sits down next to her and lets out an exhale. There’s no lying his way out of this without getting into more trouble. “Yes. Today I asked them if it would be okay and they gave me permission. I’d planned on talking to you about it, but I guess Ryouta was just too excited.”

When all Momo could respond with was a deer in headlights stare, Shouto began to doubt himself. “I’m sorry, maybe it was too soon or too forward of me,” he makes a move to get up. “I bought dinner already so there no need to…”

She grabs his arm. “N-No, I’m sorry, it’s okay. I was just surprised. Please don’t rush away.”

“Momo, it’s fine, really. I don’t want to do anything to make you feel uncomfortable. You’ve been such a wonderful addition here that we feel like a real family and I—I don’t want that to stop.”

Her eyes soften along with tone, but hesitation still poured from the woman, “are the kids really that excited about me?”

“They are,” he chuckles and takes her hand, sweeping his thumb over the webbing. “At first, they didn’t understand but when I explained you’d be a second mom, they thought it made them special and they liked that idea. They like you a lot Momo. You’ve given them and me stability after losing my wife.”

“But, what about you?” Again, the fear Shouto smelled coming from the woman was palpable, driving his primal side crazy. “Are you asking me just because they need a mom for…”

This time he switches, cradling her chin and pulling her gaze back to him. “Stop.” His inner Alpha needed to allay her concerns. “I want you Momo.” He ghosts his thumb and forefinger over her skin. “I never thought I’d ever fall for another, but you’ve brought me back to life. My inner Alpha craves more from you and I agree. You’re smart, beautiful, my kids love you, you’re the best person to share our lives with.”

“But you know I could never have anymore children.”

“I don’t care about that. We already have two.”

The moisture built up finally breaks free and the tears trickle through. “Shouto you know I never meant this happen.”

“Neither did I, but here we are.” He smiles. “Say yes, Momo, please be my mate and the mother to Ryouta and Shiori.”

She leans into the hand cupping her cheek, placing her own hand over it. “Yes,” she chokes out in a soft sob and crinkling smile. “I’d be honored to be your mate Shouto.”

He leans in placing a soft kiss on her lips. The flush of heat and burst of scent brought forth from the woman drives him to press deeper into the kiss. “The honor is mine, Momo Yaoyorozu.”

#todomomo #todomomo fan fiction #todomomo fan fics #Todoroki shouto #momo yaoyorozu #yaoyorozu momo #shouto todoroki #shouto x momo #parents #sfw #alpha omega #a!todoroki #o!yaoyorozu #family fic

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rabbiteclair · 5 years

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how do you go about doing research for your fics? i often want to write, but find myself stuck and overwhelmed with the amount of research that’s needed to portray things accurately. i never know where to start looking. got any pointers?

(Standard ‘look I just do this for funsies and have no formal education around writing, so this is all just my own experience and some secondhand advice’ disclaimer applies)

First off, by avoiding research as much as humanly possible. Really. Really. Do yourself a favor.

The way I see it, when you run into a Factual Thing you don’t actually know while writing, you have three options.

Avoid going into unnecessary detail on the thing so that it doesn’t matter that you don’t know about it.

Research the thing in-depth to make sure you get it right.

Give up on getting it Just Right and BS something.

#1 is very nice where applicable! Especially works well for stuff that isn’t very interesting or relevant to the plot.How does one go about making a TV from scratch? Heck if I know. So when I wrote Nitori doing it, I gave only really broad details about the process, and it mostly happened offscreen. No research required!

#3 is a lifesaving skill. This should probably be your default answer on 90% of things. Like, as an example: the bit from Goddess/Girlfriend where Sanae got enshrined. I am pretty sure that a few arahitogami got enshrined during their lifetimes in ye olden dayes. If I searched long and hard, I could probably find out what this process looks like. And, I did in fact start searching when I was writing the fic. But, 1) the odds of readers knowing the Proper way to do things were pretty darn slim and 2) we’re talking Reimu, who happens to live in a fantasy realm where provable gods can walk up to you and steal your french fries, and isn’t a very orthodox shrine maiden anyway. She was probably BS’ing it in character. So hey, make something up and avoid the thirty hours of research.

This is great for things that aren’t ultimately that important, or stuff that’s obscure enough that nobody’s likely to have their experience ruined if you don’t get the details right. Dunno much about historic pub food costs to use as a basis for the prices at Mystia’s stand? Make something up. Dunno how somebody living in an isolated fantasy realm analogous to the mid-1800s could get their hands on refined sugar, or sulfuric acid, or a modern telescope? Make something up. Plus, with some of these cases, ‘what’s historically accurate?’ is a less important question than ‘what would make the story more interesting?’

Which just leaves... stuff that actually needs researched.

And if you get to that point, you should still really ask yourself whether it matters. Will somebody care that you wrote about characters eating sushi in a landlocked region? No, really, think about it. I promise you that the time you spend debating whether Gensokyo could have developed the right sorts of aquaculture techniques to raise freshwater fish that are safe for sushi production could be better spent writing. If somebody still complains about it, look them in the eye and say ‘I don’t fucking know, Sumireko smuggled in another ocean fish, are you happy?’ (Yes this is a topic I spent about eight hours researching back in the day and I am retroactively bitter about it.)

But, let’s say you do find some stuff that legit needs to be accurate. First off, there are two real broad categories here, I feel.

Number one is straightforward factual bits. How tall is a torii usually? What’s a suitable detonator for a modern explosive? How long would somebody have to fly straight up before they hit clouds, assuming they were going a bit faster than a sprint? This is all stuff that you might decide you’ve gotta get right. It’s also stuff that could very well not be that important. When you hit one of these, you really should just leave a note for yourself, keep writing, and research it later. Nothing slows down your progress like pausing every seven minutes to research things that don’t even impact the story. (The Patchouli chapter of Thief of Hearts had a lot of these in the rough draft. Lots of ‘Marisa pointed the telescope at [COORDINATES]. Looking through it, she saw [SOME CONSTELLATIONS].’)

Number two... is, yeah, the stuff that you both need to research, and that matters to the story. If you’re writing a long arc about characters building an airplane, you should probably have a pretty good idea of how airplanes are made. Not only that, but the details shape the story--what kinds of obstacles the characters face will partially depend on your findings. This stuff, you should try to research before you even start writing, when possible.

Apart from factual stuff, it can also be a very good idea to research general... flavor things. Like, if I were writing a novel-length story set in the underground, I’d probably BS a lot of the details, but I’d also read a good bit about spelunking and those weird cave fish and stuff, to just kind of help me get the feel right and give me some general ideas.

... so, with all of those ‘CHOOSE YOUR RESEARCH WISELY’ warnings out of the way, what secrets can I bestow upon you for actually performing research?

idk, Google mostly

Google can turn up a lot, though. Google Books has a ton of old reference stuff available, and if you’re searching on fairly scholarly topics, it’s usually pretty good at finding relevant academic papers for you. Cultural stuff is its big weakness, in my experience: If you want a good overview of architecture styles in regular houses two hundred years ago, or what weddings looked like in the Meiji era, you are out of luck.

Youtube is also surprisingly helpful here. Weird DIY chemistry videos gave me a 10x better idea of how to make chemicals than I got from a day of reading Wikipedia. I found something like a 18-minute documentary about how karakasa are traditionally made that was very helpful for writing Kogasa.

There are two whole online resources I can recommend for Touhou-adjacent topics in particular:

First is The Encyclopedia of Shinto. This is an indexed English translation of one of the main Japanese references on Shinto, so it’s fairly thorough, if a bit high-level in places. Useful for writing shrine/god stuff. Plus, since it’s, you know, a religion, I feel inclined to try harder for accuracy when it comes to Shinto topics.

Second is the Kojiki. As of last time I checked, the only translation available online is Chamberlain’s old clunky one, but it works. Volume 1 contains a lot of bedrock mythological stuff. Touhou references it all over in general, and basically every Lunarian but Kaguya can be traced back to a character in here.

... good references on youkai are unfortunately much harder to find. There are a few English sites cataloguing them, but I don’t trust any of them thoroughly enough to link directly. ZUN plays pretty fast-and-loose with a lot of youkai, anyway, so I feel like actual folktales are best viewed as an inspiration.

oops this turned into an essay didn’t it. Oh well hopefully something in there is useful.

#rabbit does fanfiction #long post #phantomwing

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talix18 · 4 years

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November 22

Today I learned what a Japanese tuxedo is (in terms of tattoos) and that David Lee Roth at 65 has more energy in one hour than I’ve had in my entire life put together. I started listening to his appearance on Marc Maron’s WTF? and spent most of that time laughing or with my jaw hanging open. I lost track of Diamond Dave after his stint as an EMT. Now he’s an entrepreneur with a line of skin products formulated for tattooed skin. Gods bless.

Listening to Dave describe his formal music education made me wonder if that’s not what I ought to go back to school for. Music is the thing I love the most but have little actual education in. I took a beginning theory class in college and some sort of classical music appreciation course in grad school; I even played viola for two years in junior high. I guess by the time I got to college I’d ruled music out as a thing one could start studying. One of my high school friends had been playing cello for her entire life and I remember her missing various activities because she was practicing. She’s now making a living with her cello and I guess her example made me assume it was already too late.

Katelyn and I were talking about going back to school the other night. She’s learning young just how hard it is to make new friends once you’re out of school and I think she’d enjoy it, but we’re both looking at our wallets wondering how to pay for it.

School is one of my happy places. I loved learning, I loved feeling my brain work, I hated studying for exams but loved the feeling of understanding the material. I loved explaining to the class what the teacher meant when they couldn’t parse it and I loved making outline after outline of my study notes until I’d whittled the course down to bullet points. I love having conversations with people who are smarter than I am.

I briefly considered pursuing a Certificate of Higher Learning from Oxford because how cool would it be to be able to say I’m an Oxford alum? The majority of classes can be attended virtually, which is where I admit that I don’t just want to be taking classes by myself. I have a wealth of Great Courses available anytime I want to go ahead and start taking them. I want to Go To School. I want to meet smart people. I want to be surrounded by that energy and excitement again.

Now I’m looking up Eddie Van Halen and learning that he’s been in radiation therapy for his cancer for five years and was just in the hospital after a bad reaction to the drugs. Getting older, as my Gram used to say, ain’t for sissies. Love died for me when Eddie and Val got divorced but I’m glad they’re still friends and I’m thrilled he’s been sober for eleven years. I’m not sure I would have survived a rock and roll lifestyle, but then again, I’d rarely be driving.

(Speaking of the brothers Van Halen, how did I never know their mom was Indonesian? Now I understand why Alex’s eyes have looked vaguely Asian to me for all these years. Apparently Valerie has a cooking show and shared Mama VH’s recipe for something that grabbed Mom’s fancy so I can look forward to that!) (Don’t tell her that I’m a little meh on ham for Thanksgiving. She’s finally cooking Brussels sprouts a new way and I am calling that a win.)

(Mom found a recipe YEARS ago that uses Guinness and had faithfully made her “Relapse Brussels sprouts” every year since. They are fine, but they are mushy, and having seen the way, truth, and light of fresh Brussels sprouts roasted with salt and olive oil, I don’t have the heart to tell her that the Relapse BS just aren’t my favorite.)

This is my fourth day in a row of feeling pretty good, and that’s on less sleep than I normally get. I really hope this is because the medication is working. It’s hard to keep putting one foot in front of the other when you feel like you’re doing it in three feet of water. But I’ve been productive at work and at home and actually considered taking on a work training challenge today. I even started my Christmas shopping! (I hate much of what Jeff Bezos stands for, but goddamn if Amazon doesn’t alleviate most of the Christmas crazy.)

The increased meds are not helping the words come out! I have rare free time in front of a keyboard and nothing to say? Maybe that *is* a sign of increased mental health.

December is flat out insane in my family. Thank goodness my aunt moved away with her 12/4 birthday! There were birthday dinners with Mom (12/2), my aunt, me (12/20), and my dad (12/26). My brother’s birthday is also on the 20th and he’s continued the tradition in the latest generation – my niece will be five on 12/1. Her Aunt Lindsay has decided it’s time we start taking her out for birthday dinners. Basically, the fulcrum of the year tips at Thanksgiving and is just a steep slide into New Year’s. (Which I actually have plans for!)

Christmas shopping is so anxiety-laden for me that I have bad dreams about it all year long. (It’s always the same: December 23rd, I’ve purchased nothing, and the only place open in Walgreen’s.) I can’t enjoy the holiday season until I’m relatively sure what everyone’s getting and honestly, I don’t need any more stuff. Just being together and enjoying yummy food is enough for me. The holidays also mean the Hebert Christmas punch tradition from which I’ve been excluded for this will be the 24th time (I can drink anything I want! I choose not to!). My family are all wine and spirit drinkers and most of the time I look around it, but the holidays really make me miss that fuzzy festive feeling.

So how does one achieve that without using? I need to get back on a meditation routine and I need to make upside-down yoga part of my weekly life. Upside-down yoga always made me a little giddy and we rarely invert in the class I take now. I also need to try on my New Year’s Dress and assess how vigilant I have to be between now and then to make it work. I was having some success with an intermediate fasting routine where I’d restrict my calories for two (non-consecutive) days per week. The beauty of that schedule is that I can maintain it through the holidays. I should have just started this week after the colonoscopy.

But I also had a pretty severe mood crash last year and fasting is not for the unstable. Yes, I’m an emotional eater but you know, I’d rather eat my feelings than wish I could opt out of life. I know how to lose weight; necromancy is above my spell level.

Did I ever mention I was a witch and practiced in a coven for a decade? I’ve just gotten to the 20K word mark and it’s likely I’ll start repeating myself any time now. The coven was made of some amazing people but the actual business of witching just felt too much like work. I went in looking for a spiritual experience and what I got was a delightful social experience. That required a lot of time and 40-mile drives and the stagnation of my 12-Step recovery in that decade was not a coincidence.

Yesterday I got to whip out one of my favorite recovery slogans on a friend: “Religion is for people trying to stay out of hell. Spirituality is for people who’ve already been there.” It doesn’t hold up once you consider religions that don’t have conceptions of hell, but it’s catchy.

(The NaNoWriMo website helpfully breaks down how many words one has to produce per day to get to 50K by next Sunday and it is a little overwhelming. I only need 2235 more today to stay on target! [I am not staying on target.])

Somebody give me a topic! (Give me a beat!) Oh! Yesterday I emptied out one of my spare room dressers, which is something that’s been on my project list for, oh, a long time. All I have to do is patch the hole and that room will be ready to paint, which will let me do the floors in that room and the front. With that done I’ll have my closet annex and yoga station all set up and I will finally live in my entire house. And it should inspire me to do the last three rooms.

I’m excited to set up these last two rooms as functional spaces. I can’t tell you what’s taken me so long to surrender to the idea that I need a room-sized closet extension but look…I have to grab joy wherever I can find it. Waiting for the big stuff to fall into place just takes too long and this bizarre timeline provides plenty of reasons to despair. I don’t understand how people can spend eight hours a day in cubes that aren’t decorated and I am not going to limit myself to one of my life’s compulsions if I have room to store it all. (Vanessa is in Tennessee shouting “You’ll never have room for another person in your house that way!” and I’m shouting back “You and your person bought a new house!”)

I do love my house, though, and getting me out of it is going to take some extraordinary conditions. With any luck I’ll meet a life partner who also loves their house and we can commute and share. I still won’t have enough wall space to hang everything I want to; perhaps a rotating gallery space is required. Says the girl who can’t manage to swap the screens out for storm windows and vice versa every year.

#f**k fifty #nanowrimo

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typetwofun · 4 years

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The Future As A Result of Coronavirus

This post should take you roughly 13 minutes to read

A little over 78 years ago America was attacked by the Japanese in perhaps the most monumental military strike in modern history. The results of the attack were catastrophic for the Americans: 2,335 young men and women lost their lives, 1,143 more were wounded, 4 battleships were sunk and over a dozen more were damaged. In the ensuing world war the United States lost over 400,000 lives and the national debt climbed from $42 billion to $269 billion.

The attack caught the Americans completely flat footed and entered us into the second world war before the country was fully prepared to do so. Hindsight being 20/20, we can play MMQB and say that the U.S. should have been better prepared for such an attack given Pearl Harbor’s vulnerability and its strategic position in the pacific. It was no secret that Japan was taking over the Pacific rim as it needed resources to fuel its war machine. When the Americans established an oil and gasoline embargo on Japan in 1941 leaving them with less than two years of reserve supplies it was only a matter of time before Japan would do something desperate.

Despite our Commander in Chief's dubious leadership qualities and his lack of ability to unify the country, I believe in the future the way we view the American response to Coronavirus will be similar to how we now view the American response to the attack on Pearl Harbor and the ensuing World War. We were proven to be greatly underprepared for both catastrophic events which caused extraordinary damage, significant losses of life and economic damage that will take years to recover from. The only difference is 45 may not provide a speech that resonates throughout the ages like FDR did.

The reason I reference this history lesson is that I hope we can take a moment and think about a few lessons both of these events have taught us:

First off, the United States has always found a way to overcome the obstacle in question despite significant odds and no matter how grim the prospects look. This isn’t the first pandemic we have ever faced and it certainly won’t be the last.

Secondly, we also learn a great deal from adversity and come out the other side with a new perspective and brilliant understanding of previous errors in judgment. The focus on mobilizing for war ultimately led to the invention of synthetic oil & rubber, radar, jet engines, helicopters, and aircraft with pressurized cabins. Our culture has been yielding the dividends for these inventions for nearly 80 years now.

I hope to share a few predictions I have of the innovation and learning I believe will happen as a result of the Coronavirus pandemic and use it as a springboard for discussion. These projections are the way I envision certain innovations developing post pandemic. As with everything there are pros and cons, I will try to build counterarguments and the downside of each thought. But the main focus of this article is mostly about potential upside and there are only so many hours in a day.

I’m also sure in a few years I’ll look back and have the good fortune to observe how off base I was and what an idiot I am. But hey, at least we’re learning.

Oh - one more thing. These are merely opinions and predictions that might spur on conversations of what our world might look like after this is all over with. Please don’t take any of this personally, this isn’t that serious.

Ok, let’s dive in.

Remote Learning Demonstrates It’s Ready for the Big Time

The global pandemic has forced many of the world's learning institutions to switch from an in-person educational model to a remote learning model quite literally overnight. The switch has been an interesting case study and in the coming months and years we will learn of its impacts both positive and negative. Despite being drastically underprepared, our educators are making do with what they have and adapting to continue teaching despite the less than desirable circumstances.

This new learning format may not actually be a great challenge to our students given the malleability of a children’s mind and their sponge-like ability to learn new concepts. Their teachers however may have greater difficulty in adapting. Our public school teachers are trained in how to deliver information in person and how to adapt their curriculum to meet the needs of different learning styles. Our nation’s education institutions also aren’t equipped with the technical infrastructure to pull off this remote learning switch.

Up, Up, Upside

Remote learning has the potential to provide incredible utility to our global population. While I don’t foresee or advocate for public schools moving to an entirely remote model, I do think it can be a wonderful compliment for our nation's public schools and a more realistic alternative for secondary education that is both more cost effective and accessible.

With access to remote learning, students are not limited to the material that is taught by the educators at their high school, university, or trade school. A 10th grader in West Virginia may now have access to advanced Spanish, classic american art or the basics of fluid dynamics education she was previously not exposed to simply because of where she was born. Or a 10th grader in Queens may not have the help he needs on his homework because both of his parents work past his bedtime, but he will now have access to a tutor to prepare for his algebra exam he needs to pass in order to earn his High School Diploma.

One of the greatest challenges underrepresented groups face today is the lack of access to a good education, let alone the best education. The scale of remote learning will allow our best teachers and educators the ability to deliver information to more students across the country and even the globe. Remote learning provides the ability for lectures and workshops to be distributed to students who would not previously have access to such material because of their location or socioeconomic standing.

I have the opportunity to work with some incredibly talented software engineers that deliver training and enablement on the subject of how modern enterprise software should be built in the cloud. Previously a customer had to have both the budget and the engineering talent to validate bringing our engineers on site and this greatly limited the number of students we could reach. Due to the restrictions from the virus we have been forced to pivot to a remote delivery model which has afforded us the opportunity to reach people who previously couldn’t access the training. It remains to be seen if the quality of our enablement is sacrificed, but I believe there is a balance here where a minor sacrifice in effectiveness is worth it if we can reach more people.

Downside

The most concerning aspect of remote learning as it stands today is that students of lower socioeconomic status may not have the appropriate technology to participate in remote learning at home. They are also less likely to have the same level of support from their parents or guardians as their peers in middle and upper class families. This challenge may further exacerbate the gap in income disparity we are currently wrestling with on a national and global level. If remote learning is to be adopted on a more permanent basis in our nation's public schools, we will have to figure out how to ensure all children have access to proper technology and are equipped with a stable internet connection at home.

Attendance for remote learning during the pandemic is hard to track and you can bet your bottom dollar that some students will find a way to use any lack of in person accountability to their advantage. Students from underserved communities as well as kids who are bullied and students with learning disabilities who are more likely to skip school in the current model will have an easier time playing hooky or not paying attention in remote classes.

A drawback my team is dealing with in delivering remote software development enablement is a drastic reduction in the ability to read the room through the screen. It is much more difficult to identify who’s paying attention or who’s struggling with the concepts and who’s at the head of the class.

But why now?

One major obstacle of effective online learning is the lack of connectivity. Internet speeds and useful remote communication tools like Zoom and Slack are fully baked products ready for primetime to host lectures, group projects and one on one tutoring. This is a critical piece of the puzzle that is going through a major litmus test this past month as public schools were forced to switch from an in person teacher led training to virtualized remote training environments essentially overnight.

Orthogonal thoughts on remote education

Inflation of the cost of higher education is a real problem in this country and making secondary degrees cost prohibitive for many Americans. The rising cost of education is leaving many of our young adults with a debt burden that alters their life decisions

Ideas of how to combat this issue such as nationalizing higher education have been discussed at great length. Some states like the one in which I live have already begun to implement such programs. Although this reduces the cost of education for the individual, does it actually lower the cost of education?

We’re not going to tackle that in this post, but I do think organizations like Kahn Academy and Codecadamy have demonstrated how powerful remote learning can be. Imagine if we harnessed this progress and adapted it to our formal education programs.

Possible Near Term Outcomes

Children derive so much utility spending time with their peers at school and I cannot imagine depriving any young person of that necessary social interaction. However I can foresee a mixed model where students enroll in remote classes for special classes not offered at their campus, from home when they are sick, or if another emergency occurs.

Higher education will continue to be disrupted and paying top dollar for a meal plan and a dorm room is no longer required to receive quality secondary education. Leading tech companies are already eliminating the requisite Bachelors/Master’s degree check box for all employees. I expect the rest of the rest of the world to follow suit.

Remote Work Becomes the New Normal

When I worked at Apple Nearly 8 years ago now, I started off as a sales rep in the retail store selling Macs and iPhones. Eventually I got promoted to a B2B sales role which involved me getting an iMac and a phone in a little office in the back of the store. When I was interviewing for the job one of the managers asked me if I knew this job wasn’t just surfing the internet all day in the back office.

That question seems kind of ridiculous to me today and I think the push back a lot of employers have with remote working employees will feel similarly in 10 years. Yes I have more than a few non work tabs going on my Mac at all times, but that doesn’t mean my work is suffering or that’s all I’m doing.

Prior to this pandemic it wasn’t unusual for me to work from home somewhere between 1-3 days per week. This is commonplace for many of my peers, many of whom are very high performing professionals. A lot of people I work with almost exclusively work from home and some don’t even live in a city where my employer has an office. Which has me wondering, if technology companies can work from home effectively, why can’t other organizations?

FWIW I do not buy the argument that people in tech are more disciplined or more trustworthy than workers in other disciplines, I think we just have more practice.

Work productivity tools like Zoom and Slack are so seamless in their integration to our workday already that making the jump to fully remote really isn’t that difficult for most organizations to imagine.

Enter Coronavirus and most of the world seems to be handling the new change quite well. Long term the answer probably lies somewhere between a 100% remote staff like my buddies at Tackle.io and the 40 hour per work week in a physical office. There is too much utility gained from in person meetings and social engagement with our colleagues to go entirely remote. Like education, a hybrid scenario where office space shrinks and employees are assigned 2-3 days to come in to have 1:1’s with their boss, customer meetings, or team get together.

Employee Benefits

Employees benefit greatly from the flexibility to work from home a few days per week. It affords greater flexibility to do chores or errands, easily pick up kids from school, work remotely to tack on a few extra days of travel or on a vacation. Given that the average American spends nearly an hour commuting (almost 8% of waking hours) that’s a lot of extra time added back into your day.

Employer Benefits

The benefits for the organization might not be quite as obvious and there are probably plenty of solid counter arguments, but here it goes: If a majority of your staff was coming in 2-3 days per week you could reduce the amount of office space you need to rent thus lowering your opex. Employee flexibility to work from home will reduce the need for employees calling out sick or for personal reasons. Especially after this global event, the tolerance for people coughing and sneezing in the office will hopefully be lower. Parents who can be home with their kids more often will want to work for companies with flexible work environments. If you have this policy you will attract those people.

Air Travel Disrupted

Do you remember flying before 9/11? I don’t. But I would imagine the impact of this pandemic will force a major overhaul of the way we are screened before hopping on our next flight. I don’t have a good idea of when I expect to fly again, but let’s just say it won’t be until July or August of this year. I would be surprised if the next time I fly I do not have my temperature taken before heading through TSA.

If TSA starts to restrict flying privileges to people registering a fever this will be a major change in the way we travel. If you are told you can’t catch that flight to the Bahamas because you have a fever you will certainly hate it, but this change might help reduce the impact of future infectious diseases.

Doctor-As-A-Service Becomes The New Default

Once upon a time when you were sick the Doctor came to you to make a house call. That kind of service sounds incredible to me because I hate visiting the doctor’s office. For one, that’s where the other sick people are congregated, and I don’t want to be anywhere near that huddled mass. Secondly, it’s one of the greatest bureaucratic tar pits one can get stuck in and just an overall black hole of personal time and energy. Online doctor appointments have shown its usefulness more and more in this time of Coronavirus and I truly hope it is a trend that will stay.

The concept of telemedicine is not a new one. In fact, it’s a lot more widely used than I had realized. My fiancé shared how she has leveraged a remote doctor for several non urgent medical needs in the not too distant past. I recently logged into my medical insurers website and the landing page presented me with two options: “Select Primary Care Provider” and “Connect with a Doctor Online”. Next time I need to visit the doc for something other than my annual checkup, I know I’m going to do a virtual doctor’s visit.

The main utility the teladoc provides is whether or not you should seek in-person medical attention, or can it wait until tomorrow. Additionally, if you need to visit a doctor in person to seek further diagnosis if you should visit the ER or you could just go to the neighborhood urgent care? The National Center for Biotechnology Information estimates that between 13.7 and 27.1 percent of all emergency department visits could be treated at either an urgent care or retail clinic with a potential cost savings of approximately $4.4 billion annually to boot. Imagine the ER with just 13% fewer patients in the waiting room...

Delivery services like DoorDash are now offering pharmacy deliveries so if you’re sick, not only can you visit the doctor from your home but you might also be able to avoid visiting the pharmacy. This kind of service could be quite impactful in preventing future pandemics.

TL;DR

For the most part, I’m very bullish in the future of humanity and more narrowly the USA post-Coronavirus. We have always found a way to take difficult situations and improve them. We are also not perfect and will probably make lots of mistakes coming out of this, but given the relatively low fatality rate of Coronavirus, I believe we will learn from this and be much better off because of it.

Thanks and stay safe.

#coronavirus #predictions

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thewebofslime · 5 years

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We value your privacy We and our partners use technology such as cookies on our site to personalise content and ads, provide social media features, and analyse our traffic. Click below to consent to the use of this technology across the web. You can change your mind and change your consent choices at anytime by returning to this site. I ACCEPT Show Purposes Powered by Jobs Classifieds Book an ad Digital Editions Announcements Directory Login Shropshire Star Search News Sport Services Entertainment News Local Hubs Voices Crime Business Education Health Cash For Your Community 2019 More Find news for your town Catherine Stihler to step down as MEP eight weeks early UK News | Published: Nov 30, 2018 The Scottish Labour politician will leave the European Parliament at the end of January 2019 to take on a new role. Subscribe to our daily newsletter Sign Up A Labour politician who has been campaigning to try to keep the UK in Europe’s Single Market is quitting her MEP post early. Catherine Stihler, who has represented Scotland at the European Parliament since 1999, has announced she will stand down at the end of January 2019. All UK MEPs are due to leave their posts by March 29 next year – the day the UK formally leaves the European Union. Ms Stihler is leaving eight weeks early to take up a new position as the chief executive of global non-profit organisation Open Knowledge International. She said: “It has been a privilege to represent the Labour Party and serve as an MEP for Scotland for nearly two decades. “I was the youngest British MEP when first elected at 25 in 1999 and I witnessed the EU expand and reform to bring nations closer together in the interests of co-operation and peace. “I have seen first-hand the positive and lasting impact that EU membership has had on our economy, workers’ rights, and consumer protection.” Ms Stihler, together with former Scottish Labour leader Kezia Dugdale and MP Ian Murray, set up the Scottish Labour for the Single Market campaign group, calling for the party to back the UK’s continued membership of the trading bloc post-Brexit. Ms Dugdale said on Twitter she was “very sorry to see @C_Stihler_MEP leave elected politics”. The Lothian MSP added: “She has been a phenomenal support to me from the moment I joined the party. “A first class parliamentarian and passionate advocate for Labour and for what the EU is and does. I wish her every success in the future.” Scottish Labour leader Richard Leonard said: “Catherine has been a long-standing and committed MEP, representing the people of Scotland and working with European socialist parties to improve workers’ and consumer rights. “She is someone of deep conviction and principle. We wish her every success in her new role.” Ms Stihler said she was now “relishing an exciting new challenge and opportunity with Open Knowledge International”. She added: “Digital skills and data use have always been a personal passion and I am eager to assist groups across the world to create and share open knowledge and encourage the next generation to understand that information is power which can be used to address poverty and other social challenges.” Tim Hubbard, chairman of the Open Knowledge International board, said it was “delighted” Ms Stihler was joining them. 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alchemisland · 5 years

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The Antiquarian and the Devil's Dog - I

The week we spent cleaning out Great Grandad's house was an eventful one. More exciting at least than the days previous spent in various offices gathering the correct permissions to enter the old place. In the oldest parts of the house damp rotted the old floorboards until they warped, collapsing under their own weight leaving perilous apertures eager to swallow clumsy steppers. Agencies were reluctant to hand over the keys without first checking everyone's insurance ad nauseum.

The old stone stairs leading to the basement, chipped from a thousand previous descents, looked liable to break if one wasn't selective with their boot placement. It's funny, I thought, if you fell through one of those holes and ended up in the basement, you'd be avoiding the dangerous stairs; the lesser of two evils. Note to inform the insurance company of a possible loophole. Desperate to avoid litigation on our part, the agencies agreed that we could enter under supervision.

The world had changed since this place was last inhabited. When the door finally opened, stubborn in its frame after years of neglect, it seemed a room unstuck in time. Dust particles hung in the air and as they danced I wondered what secrets they were privy to, and whether they had been the component atoms of a larger host previously. Even her ghosts were bent and haggard with age, bones wilting in the oppressive dank. A hundred years ago the servants were so afraid of the myriad spectres said to inhabit the long halls and shadowed staircases that they had refused to enter certain rooms, but no such reports have been filed in nigh on seventy years. If those same ghosts existed now, they languished apathetically in the walls, stirring only occasionally to rattle the pipes or drag their boots. Curios and trinkets plundered at the height of Empire decorated every mantel in the house and although it went unsaid, everyone in the family was petrified of stumbling across something less than savoury. Just to be sure we cross referenced some of the dates in our literature and found the Nazi party came a little after Bryn's time. Spared of that anxiety we set to looking, for what we weren't sure. Something of value, some seemingly insignificant object that might illuminate this murky character.

Bryn, God rest him, was a renaissance man in the style of the natural philosophers of his age; a doctor, an artist, a war hero, an antiquarian and amateur archaeologist all rolled into one. Of course it would be remiss not to mention his more illicit interests like bootlegging alcohol and collecting occult manuscripts, but the more sordid of the two pastimes fell by the wayside when he raised his station in society, becoming an educated and respected member of a prominent archaeological interest group. Selous' Sweat they called themselves, in tribute to the conservationist and African big-game hunter of the same name.

Selous some of these artefacts for mad stacks, I thought with a smirk.

Everything in the house had a double coating of dust. Doing our rounds and cataloguing the cabinets of curiosities meant that doors long undisturbed were opened, both literally and figuratively. Turning the handle of one particular door, I saw it led to an upstairs sitting room on a landing between two flights of stairs, one spiralling down towards the sitting room, although there was scarcely room to sit amidst the Grecian urns and Japanese decorative plates precariously hanging from the walls, and the other up towards the darkroom on the top floor. The sitting room was strangely devoid of clutter except for an enormous table. The rounded surface was a dark mahogany, polished until shining with a protective glass covering placed on top.

I wondered why a table, even one so fine as this, was given a room to itself above the other priceless artefacts in the catalogue, which included a Han dynasty vase, the glasses worn by W.B. Yeats in his twilight years and an enormous set of ornate mirrors purchased at auction when one of the grand manors in Kilkenny was forced to liquidate all non-holdings related assets following the collapse of the family after the war. The mirrors, according to the former owner Mrs. Fitzbannion, were the pride of their manor house. Mrs. Fitzbannion hung the mirrors in the centre of the main hall, ensuring all visitors knew the extent of their wealth. The frames were carved to represent natural wonders, a pinecone here, an antler there, and each coated in burnished gold leaf. Gold had faded to brass in the intervening years, as if the mirror losing its place of prominence in its household stole the last scion of lustre from it altogether, and I wondered had the mirror ever been so ostentatious as described.

Inspecting the table, I ran my finger along the protective glass panel and found no trace of dust. Doubly curious. Bryn was an adventurer and had no shortage of vigour in his old age, but he was still not one for dusting. Attributing his longevity and stamina to a liquid concoction that he called Lightning Wine, part alcoholic cocktail, part vegetable juice with a hint of soda water. In truth I had only agreed to help with this jumped-up Spring cleaning session in the hopes of finding a vat of the naughty sauce hidden in a secret panel, which I would ferry out under my coat and imbibe later on with the lads.

I knelt on my haunches to inspect the legs of the table, wondering if they might shed light on the mystery. Clean as a whistle below too. Ivory. That was it. The legs were made of ivory. Holy shit, was this stuff even legal anymore? I heard a story in school that at one time ivory was so coveted they had to remove the tusks from museum specimens to discourage robbers, low-hanging fruit and all that. My sister volunteered in the Natural History Museum in Dublin while studying zoology and recounted wondrous tales over dinner about their storage rooms in the inner-city; numerous thylacine specimens, gigantic Irish elk antlers and wooden storage crates full of elephant tusks, corridor after corridor of specimen jars like one imagines Noah's Ark appeared at capacity. Into the table legs were carved detailed images of warriors armed with spears facing down ferocious lions. No doubt an artwork of such fine craftsmanship was either manufactured by British labourers merely basing their work on an existing tribal peace, or worse, plundered from a deposed native royalty, like that Malaysian ruby. Something else there too, a piece of paper placed under one of the legs to balance it. I pulled the parchment out slowly, like the highest-stakes game of Jenga you can imagine and saw that it was written in blue ink. Unmistakably the spider-like scrawl of Great Grandad Bryn; prone to eccentricity and hyperbole in his cups though. I doubt any of what was written should be taken as gospel, but damned if it doesn't make for a spooky story. The following are the excerpts from what I assume was a field diary, kept as part of his funding agreement with the local museums. They would fund his expeditions and as long as he provided colourful commentary and witticisms enough to draw a crowd. They proudly patronised his occasional dalliances into the otherworldly in the spirit of derring-do! Bryn mentions early in the text that he keeps a formal and an informal diary, the latter only for his own perusal. If what I read is his own private correspondence, then why hide it?

April 1928.

I, Martin Bryn-Kolkiln, wish to commit to paper the strange events of Friday last, April 9th 1928. For the first time in some weeks I have had time enough to sit down and gather my thoughts, my rest of late being much disturbed by strange fancies and day-time delusions. My postprandial scribblings have long been a stable of my working week and no servant dares to stir past my quarters upon noticing the glow neath the door that signals its occupancy. Lately the notepad remains devoid of ink or flourish and I strain my ears to catch the scratching of a passing servant stepping a mite too hard on the creaky floorboard, hoping to catch some snippet of gossip in the scullery that might rouse my wrist to swiftness. In less fanciful terms I have been much beset by idleness and my usual studious nature replaced by bouts of idleness and procrastination. I do not fear that you will judge me too harshly for my slovenliness though once I recount my adventure in full.

I find the drone of chatter where people gather too distracting to complete any semblance of serious writing. Even the purchase of army-grade ear plugs have not relieved the issue, much to my chagrin. Three pairs for a pound, army surplus. Let me say this; if they cannot stop the sound of idle chatter, they aren't going to do much when a whizzing mills explodes just shy of your nape. The seller, one Mr. Kieran Malleus - 'hearin' Kieran' to his friends - in due course will read my thoughts on his wares, in so many crass words as can be mustered in the shrill silence they offer.

Recently I have been away from kith and kin, pining for home comforts in the scalding desert sun, an enormous white offensiveness radiating omnipresent heat. By night when the flaming orb retreats beneath the dunes, the shifting sands hold much latent heat. Torturous for a Kentish gent like myself. I will keep complaints brief. I am grateful of course for the patronage of my peers, and for the many strange and exotic sights I witnessed, including the discovery of a buried idol in the former fertile crescent which spurred my journey to action. Natural sights of great wonder met my eyes at every turn; clear skies above the dunes like reflected water, the night a matte-painting of stars in every hue; twinkling blues shining intensely for a moment only to disappear against the force of its own vibrancy, white and yellow dazzling celestial bodies too winking in turn, and a fiery red one clearest of all. Fayzad, my loyal manservant and foreman, informs me this was Venus. Brutal aerial bombing raids and fierce close-quarters combat destabilized the region. A land rent asunder yielded treasures hidden since ancient epochs, including our idol. In the charred frame of a ruined mosque, a set of dusty steps led us to the idol, stark and malignant in its shadow-haunted grotto. The discovery provided ample fuel for speculation among my wider uneducated workforce, whispered stories of Templar treasure and forbidden Rosicrucian gospels abounded, spreading like wildfire.

The journey from the train station in London towards Matfield in Kent is punctuated with occasional wondrous natural vignettes. Wild horses cresting grassy knolls against the backdrop of God's own country. White blossoms on trees, ranks of saplings, stunted now but enormous come the vernal bloom. I attempted to conduct my preliminary report of sites I'd visited but, through my rubber stoppers, I made out the voice of an inebriated Scot over the din. A veteran was seated in the opposite carriage, alone. The poor creature must have been exposed to gas in some forgotten melee, of which he was perhaps the surviving witness. Across the British Isles there was a thousand such sad scenes. Pineapple gas by the sound, that consistent hack. Each time he flurried, it knelled the end of my creative spell.

Upon returning I informed colleagues and close friends of my intent to convalesce, retiring to my chambers in solitude for a fortnight to document my trip. It came as a reluctant surprise then when a letter arrived, delivered by hand, requesting my urgent presence at the servants graveyard on the grounds of the Powers Estate. The letter spoke of a strange discovery when work for a proposed pleasure garden began requiring the removal of several headstones. The author of the note, which was neither signed nor written in a hand I recognized, went on to state that he or she supposed that their discovery would be pertinent to my historical interest. This mysterious invitation stoked the embers of my imagination ablaze. I was suddenly keen to reevaluate my proposed 'mental wellbeing day', instead thinking perhaps I took those days on the insistence of a friend, nothing more.

I set off that same balmy spring evening, with only a light jacket tossed overshoulder, a saggging houndstooth peak unsteady on my head like an ill-fitting wig and a whistle on my lips; no rain had been forecast. The note went on to describe the dig, which had concluded. My field tools were not required. The closing statement, worst of all, sent shivers through my body. The scribe, although amateur, was firm in his words. Confident in his assessment, they had uninterred the skeleton of an enormous hellhound, three times larger that the most gargantuan of Siberia.

My mind was aflame with vivid images of a shadowy hyena howling, cackling, pooling stinking saliva in the sharp corners of its mouth. I wondered might their excavation have uncovered Black Shuck or some folkloric descendant; an enormous wolf-like creature that stalked the leafy lanes of Suffolk in the 15th century. Standing a keen seven feet, allowing for an inch either end, 200 pounds at a glance, around the average weight of a heavyweight pugilist, the fearsome beast came fearless. When mist swirled underfoot making each step unsteadier than the last, when the wind carried whispers of movement on the moors, Black Shuck had left his cave. So bulky was he that the thudding sound of his footfalls roused the town from sleep and into panic. He came in the night, terrible and formless, gliding unseen like steam. The panicked citizenry heard that same familiar padding, the warning bell would sound, sending the denizens spilling towards the abbey. Room was made for all to shelter in the house of God. Assembled clergymen bolted shut the door, placing large timbers across in a x. The beast effortlessly barged through as if hurtling through a wall of damp paper. A hulking mass of muscle, rippled and bulging as if cast in alabaster. The archives make no mention of how the beast was slain. The last word on the matter is not even a word but a sketch of a boulder by one Father Nestin Goodfaythe, showing where the beast is supposedly interred on hallowed ground, underneath a weeping willow near the west wall of the piper's rest.

I cycled to the train station within half an hour and caught the evening train. Upon detramming, it was only a short stroll past the hamlet to the Powers Estate, a foreboding stone fortress stark against the pastureland. The sky was flecked with silver dots, like an enormous glowing wisp out of space had poked a hole in the fabric of our world, allowing a sliver of otherworldly pearlescence through.

Clouds gathered ominously above the rounded domes of the main compound. Various follies, fountains and statue-strewn walkways decorated the grounds, paling in comparison to the oppressive majesty of the Grand Lodge. The design was an eclectic mix of Eastern and Western classical art styles, rounded arches and marble pillars dappled with grey, obsidian gargoyles with contorted faces, forked tongues lolling out of their pursed half mouths. Other misshapen oddities perched on the buttresses. French tapestries and Roman marbles hung on every landing, enormous paintings of the glorious hunt in gilt frames on every inch of spare wall. Pictish stones looted from Scotland decorated the fish pond, inscribed with mysterious runes that no doubt held eldritch knowledge.

Casement Power, younger brother of the late Lord Richard, inherited no property or bonds. Instead he was allowed an extremely modest annual wage. He spent the days hunting. No scurrying fox or baited badger could satiate his warrior spirit, so he traveled to Africa, there shooting the largest game.

It was there he spoke with cannibal tribes, saw serpents of enormous size unfurl endlessly and slither away into the brown water and met great heroes. He also had collected many curios and tribal artworks on his expeditions. The remnants of his leaden conquests lined the walls as trophies. Enormous mammoth tusks from Siberia carved with runes framed every double door, spears crossed above every mirror.

Somewhere inside, although I can't recall where, the skeleton of the beast that hunted the denizens of Gevaudan is displayed. I know for a fact that this grizzly exhibit exists, it's listed on the manifesto of items in their portion of Stately Homes of England. I cannot verify as to the validity of the article. I'd vouch many a French peasant eats well selling hundreds of such cryptozoological items. Could the hell hound I am to examine be a relation come to England, or worse, brought?

I have heard tales from reputable sources of large cats loose on the moors. Escapees from circuses and private menagerie. Others, former pets released by their owners after quadrupling in size.

Perhaps these amateurs had merely uncovered the remains of an exotic pet. The grounds were no stranger to beasts from the dark continent; crimson parrots in enormous metal cages, striped fish that glowed when moonlight struck on the pond, peacocks from India striding the grounds, ducks from Canada. Would it be completely out of question for a jungle cat to have made this castle its home? I think not.

On his extensive travels around China and Africa studying prehistoric art Richard Power collected many priceless artworks and looted great tombs of their treasures years before the arrival of Western antiquarians. His horde included petroglyphs, gilded sarcophagi and even a mummified cat from a Witch's Bazaar outside Khartoum. If Richard Powers was alive today, he would sit coiled atop his twinkling doubloons with plumes of smoke trailing from either nostril, content to wait for judgement day in the cavernous treasury rumored to exist beneath his house.

Many of the great houses had fallen to destitution, their custodians gathering dust on gilded thrones. The best of their heirs sent to France among the officer classes. Although the bulk of the BEF was made up of working class men, the aristocratic classes were decimated also. Such was the ways of war. These men playing chess with the lives of the small folk would, to fulfill their end of whatever Faustian pact, give up their own sons. Of course not all elderly Lords were callous in sending their offspring away, perchance to die. Many wrote letters to school chums occupying lofty administrative positions requesting exclusion in exchange monetary reward. All such offers were denied.

Powers lost three son. Two at Mons, another at Ypres. The angels had not seen fit to protect them.

That dread sound of motorcycle tyres across pebbles as it stirs to a halt. The clink of medals as the messenger spans the drive. Measured footfalls, a military gait, approaching the door. Closer now, the parent white-faced knowing what dread news awaits.

Folklore and farm chatter aside; the Powers had deep roots here. A Powers had lived on this land since 1640. Who knew what secrets those whispering old stones might yield to those inclined to listen.

Fortunately the Lord has a nephew, strong, sensible and of age. Lord Nigel Power, Earl of Sookford and 3rd Baron of Westian, current custodian of the Powers Estate was not unkind. Scholarly and stoic like the Greek philosophers he admired and quoted in his cups, but always keen to share a nod and wag in passing. Not to give the impression we are acquainted, for I hardly know the man but to don my hat in passing, occasionally commenting if the weather be note-worthily tempestuous.

Already noting my own apprehension, measured steps, breath slowed and women unless necessary, I proceeded toward the gate. Wintry grass crunched understood. Hypnotised by its granduer, I craned to see the lip of the battlements. A fortress grim and impregnable, fit for a martial family.

Arrows, oil and boulders would have rained from on high to decimate prospective invaders. Just then, a gust swept past violently, lifted my tails and carried with it faint sounds of distant war. A whispered scream. Snippets of intense crackling fire. Rhythmic thwacks of loosed bows in tandem. I shivered. I begged the spirits leave me, confine their unrest to the kirkyard.

The last light faded. I approached the iron gates. Each rail was a jagged black spear rising from the capstone. A black bas relief centred the entryway. I pushed it open. It dragged on its hinges, howling in dull flight. A dread chorus, shrill and how long it lasted - I almost placed my fingers into my ears for relief!

This fright rather knocked my senses. I stirred on the threshold and gathered scattered wits. Every loose stone, dancing leaf and singing spring breeze now whispered portents. I resigned to ignoring whatever gnostic Delphian beckoned. I accepted the languid gate swing as a sign of reluctance to permit my entry on the house's part. Old places do not lightly relinquish their secrets.

I immediately turned sharply right upon entering, moving from the winding gravel drive lined with golden cedars down a snaking path trodden through the grass, towards a distant glow I assumed to be the site. With forearm raised against grabbing branches, I fumbled through the darkness, taking little note of the uneven terrain underfoot. I strode toward a copse copse with a clear vantage of the servant's graveyard. The site was cordoned with rope. Torches jammed into the ground illuminated the site, presumably for my own benefit. A small crowd had gathered, huddled together, gnattering around one of the beacons. A man turned and waved upon seeing my shaded form, evidently the letter writer.

Grass grew greyer, more sickly inside the roped area. Scions of jagged rock tore through the topsoil giving the impression of a golem beneath the firmament. This field was the only spot that didn't yield healthy bloom. Small surprise it was designated such a dark purpose. Its owner had little use for land that didn't yield.

A terrible scream rang out as I took my first ginger step toward him. Shrill, unpleasant, razorlike. The banshee's wail, a chorus of seven trumpets that tolled the opening of the seventh seal, the Howling of the Djinn! Hark! The dread screech of a terrible wyrm, phasing through realities in permanent agony.

A bright spark glowed brightly in the sky above the open grave. Unaccustomed to the light, my eyes began watering heavily. I tried sjtitkng my eyes tight, but like raging floodwaters surmounting an impassable object through the smallest grikes and stony slits, they coarsed unheeded. I turned and a strange thing occurred. I found myself back in the thicket, where the branches like fingers had caressed me only a moment before. The light of the site up ahead in the distance. What vile trickery this?

I stared at my hands, barely able to discern their shape in the darkness. I raised them, cupped my face and messaged my crown. I needed to feel the bone and blood underneath. Something tangible now that I was untethered from the real. I needed to be positive I wasn't dreaming. It was bitterly cold. Was it possible to feel cold while unconscious? Doubtful. Sudden nausea stole my legs. I keeled over, holding my stomach, retching onto the damp grass.

The beacons in the distance began igniting and extinguishing in sequence, strobing and contorting, casting long shadows. I tucked my head to my chest, as a hedgehog does under duress. Then all was dark. The beacons doused simultaneously. The wet grass beneath my head changed to something hard and slick, with many sharp points. I lifted one eyelid and saw the gates. I was outside the compound, as if I had never before entered.

The dark contours of the bas relief were more ominous now. The bulbous shapes made my skin crawl. Brushing rocks in my palms on the thigh of my trousers, I winced to my feet.

Yes, the beings that had at first seemed Grecian effigies of perfect men hunting now altered in the pale moonlight. One idle moonbeam shone directly on the relief, as if a cherubim spotlight was held fast. These hulking icons, although lacking perspective, seemed a forbidden sight. I recoiled in horror but dared myself to investigate further. I stooped closer, focusing on one particular figure. Let me first describe the image whole; pitiful, by compare I can only cite passages from Revelations, even they do not convey the full horror I beheld. Lacking the vocabulary to describe the 'otherness' of its shape, Revelations must serve as an imaginative stimulus. The beings were contorted demons. The bodies and genitals of men but coated every inch with coarse black hair, thick and spidery. Enormous round eyes like that of a fish, but where a fish emits vacancy and the black of their eyes reflects rather than radiates, these implied great wisdom. Enormous descrying orbs, omnipresent to witness all events for all of time, as Mathesula.

Where their mouths should be instead jutted enormous jaws like that of the snapping Nile crocodiles, who since antiquity have smiled menacingly beneath the murk. The figure I was hypnotically drawn to had an enormous stinging tail protruding from the end of his tailbone, hanging low off the ground before looping upwards into the sky. A stinger slick with venom poised at the shoulder to strike, dripping evilly. Alone among his number, he was armed with a this pestilent whip, clad in hard black plate no sword would dent, distinguishing him as a leader of sorts, if rank exists within an anarchy of grotesques.

Even as fantasy this folly was something gratuitous. The metal seemed slick, oozing, though no rain fell that night. No hint of varnish in the air. Perhaps twas merely the combination of moonlight trickery and the all-night reading sessions of yesteryear where I filled my mind with all manner of sidhes, dobhar chus and mushrooms out of space. The relief was a ballroom fancy, no more. A remnant of the freakshow era, like some stately houses with curiosity cabinets intact.

I pushed the gate open as a matter of promptness. Again it swung slowly and screeched, reeeeeeeeeeeeeeee - like a vixens wail. Events were playing out exactly as they had only moments ago. Only now, when I entered the dig site was to my left, and much closer besides.

I was sure I had turned right last time. Did the last time really happen? A trick of my own mind or played by something darker. Some being drawn to bored mischief, interfering with the affairs of mortals. Perhaps twas some fancy I took. A moon dream. Lord knows I had heard tales of drunken farmers roaming around small paddocks unable to find an exit, while the faeries peered through the hawthorn barbs in hysterics.

While we are in the realm of loons, perhaps it was an angel's vision of the future. Warding me away from the toothed darkness inside the grave.

To steady my nerves I decided to voice the skeptic aloud into the night. Gases and wisps in marshes were spirits to feudal farmers, before wise men came and dispelled their ignorance with the torch of logic. Perhaps all I was experiencing now was merely some as of yet unexplained phenomena. An unseen chemical in the air released by the digging causing hallucinations. I had been travelling recently, a surefire way to unsettle oneself. Any excuse that steered my mind from abject terror.

I proceeded to the site, only this time no sliding mud prevented passage; the thicket of thorns where I had surely stooped and spied the distant braziers nowhere to be found.

There was still time to turn for home. Trains wouldn't run until morning, I might safely walk the tracks and upon reaching my station, fetch my bike. If I departed and kept a keen pace, I would be abed before the witching hour.

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