#but entry way could be inside or outside and entrance hall suggests a separate room

[nordic-language-love]

english has a perfectly good word for shinkansen (bullet train) and yet no english speakers here seem to use it they literally all just say shinkansen

#there are a lot of words where we do actually have an english word but most people use the japanese word #but there are subtle differences between the english and the japanese so it makes sense #like genkan #you could translate that as an entry way or an entrance hall #but entry way could be inside or outside and entrance hall suggests a separate room #whereas genkan is specifically the area in a building where you take your shoes off #it's rarely a separate room it's usually just a small area #and then there's onigiri #you could say rice balls but that suggests they're spherical and they're not #onsen is another one #you could say hot spring but that doesn't cover the fact it's a resort/spa area #but shinkansen... it's a bullet train. that's what we call it in english. there's no small differences #i guess bc (a) shinkansen is easier to say and (b) no english signs here say bullet train they all say shinkansen

[frightfurtabby]

Himikiyo Week 2021 Day 2! Bookstore Ambience

// Likewise with yesterdays entry, amino crossposting to be added later. i feel this one’s pretty damn cute

later edit- all links will be collected later in an individual post that will act as a guide/directory.

Word count: 1837

Link

AO3- https://archiveofourown.org/works/34138636

Amino- https://aminoapps.com/c/danganronpa/page/blog/himikiyo-week-day-2-bookstore-ambience/d3DX_eE8Sbum1JjvngPBwrwNV6mNR1eD7WR

A first date, depending on who you asked, was either more nerve wracking or less so than you expect. Kiyo wasn’t sure which they’d agree with but nonetheless they were fretting. Pacing back and forth in their office at the university. A cute teacher from another department had ended up inviting them out on a date, like a date date. They’d been on the job for a few years now but hardly socialized much outside the other anthropology staff who were understanding of at least some of their eccentricities.

Then just before the start of the previous semester the college hired a new batch of professors including one taking a spot over in the English department in a room in just the opposite hall. So they would see her often in the mornings downstairs in line at Coffee place, usually she was to the back of the line and they’d cross paths when Kiyo was going up with their usual order. The first sighting was like this, and entirely by chance as the anthropologist had to turn to answer a colleague briefly and eye contact was made with the cute redhead in line just over the other’s shoulder, Himiko Yumeno.  

They soon hit it off, spending time talking to each other in between class periods in one room, the other, or in the previously mentioned cafe. About work, future plans, what they did in their spare time. Kiyo was always busy doing work, research generally and most of their interests revolved around it and there were days in a row just immersing themself in study. It was like that for as long as they could remember, though what in particular they were fascinated by changed over time.

Legends of monsters, legends of heroes, artifacts left behind, Asia, North America, Africa, they’d deep dive into something and come out the other end being aware of enough to teach their students in extreme detail. Little did they know at the time but in a moment of serendipity just before they met Himiko they felt a pull toward researching the history of magic. And then it turned out that she was interested in that as well.

There were very few days they didn’t find a chance to talk. They had a shared routine every day, and now was a step up.

Kiyo adjusted their collar and tie before straightening out the skirt a bit more and wondered if it was all a little too formal and they were overthinking this. They did tend to do that kind of thing after all. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too much of an issue, Himiko was definitely understanding of that kind of thing, they knew that much already. There were also the times they’d complained of that trait and she called it “adorable.”

It was to a bookstore with a cafe in it, so they didn’t need to be terribly formal. Kiyo remembered that it was taking place at around 8 tonight and looked over at the clock and realized that it was much sooner than they thought. She would be showing up any moment. Time went somewhere while they were lost in thought so they quickly put on their shoes, grabbed an umbrella just in case and headed out to the bus stop that was only a few blocks away.

The couple met while Himiko was sitting on the bench still, tapping away at her phone to text Kiyo to make sure everything was alright.

She looked up after hearing footsteps and sighed in relief. “You never seemed much like the type to show up late.”

“My apologies.”

“You also never seemed like the type to straight up ditch either, so…” she blushed and looked over down sheepishly. “I was getting a little worried something happened and you couldn’t pick me up as soon.”

“I got a bit distracted. I-” their explanation started as they took a break with her to sit and rest, arm wrapping around her shoulders.

“Was trying to make yourself extra cute for me?” the redhead teased, putting an arm around them right back and leaning in cutely..

“I… yes, I won’t deny that.” It was a cloudy evening and the autumn breeze blew downed leaves past where they had sat and began to cuddle on the bench. “You know how it is sometimes.”

“Yeah, I remember the time you genuinely didn’t grasp that the poetry I had been showing you for your input was, in fact, about you.”

Kiyo chuckled. “Oh god yeah, that took me a few to even have an inkling of it going on. I just might be the most useless lesbian ever.”

“Mmm, you’re useful for warmth sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?”

“Hehe, y-you know what I mean. Like right now, it’s a bit chilly but you being here makes it not so bad.” The first date was finally here, after they had planned it to be a day they were both free. So the woman was going to savor every moment of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The couple approached the doors of the date location holding hands, under the umbrella. Skin made cold by the walk over in spite of hands sharing warmth. Small flecks of rain along the top of the umbrella dripped down. Inside, Kiyo instantly felt the warmth of the building. It wasn’t a long trek at all, if it was they would have done this by car. Everything around here was luckily close to the campus, including home.

The umbrella was put back in its holder, so as not to drip all over the place. It would be rude to do so.

Kiyo turns and gives Himiko a peck on the cheeks. “Food and coffee first, darling?”

The shorter woman nodded and smiled. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan.”

It was just to the back left corner from the entrance. Rows and rows of enticing books had to be passed by before you could reach it, but who would come and not buy anything? Romance, sci-fi and fantasy, Manga and light novels too were all present.

After ordering, they got one booth to share, and sat down at the same side. Kiyo’s umbrella, bag, and jacket sat on the ground on the very inside corner. Everything they had ordered would be coming up, and luckily there wasn’t that much of a line on evening’s like this. The barista was even a student from university and had recognized them. It was awkward at first but Kiyo joked that it would be interesting to see which class would become fully aware they were dating first.”Let’s turn it into an experiment. Who has more Gossips attending their lectures?”

And they were glad that put her more at ease. It felt nice gently rubbing Himiko’s shoulder with their hand as she leaned in and placed a kiss on their cheek.

“Well, I sure hope it’s not mine. That’d be a pain.” she said to play into the gag a bit more. “Besides, it’d be fitting for your class.”

Kiyo feigned offense, mock gasping “Hey now what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, just you observant types over in anthropology, always wanting to know everything you can about how people work. I can see that tendency being correlated.”

They had told her previously they thought about doing more research for a paper about something like that after listening to some of their colleagues, ironic though it may be, gossipping about student rumors.

“Point taken.” Kiyo returned her smooch with their own, directly on her forehead.

The coffee and tea arrived first. So the talk continued with the added benefit of drinks. Himiko changed the subject to books on her to-read list. “You know there’s this new book I’ve been thinking of assigning in a future quarter, I’d have to read it first.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s about this girl that finds out that she has magical powers and gets some training, eventually she encounters a strange, beautiful spirit and they fall in love. I always feel like courses need a little more gay love. Oh, and the author is too, so the representation is genuine.”

KIyo nodded and listened. “That’s very good. Perhaps we’ll get a couple copies? I’ll pay. I’ll also be getting a few things that have been on my list for a while.”

They held hands, sat so close. Hans resting between both of their legs. It was such a good time to fit in cuddling any time there was a little lull in the action of the date. Some time to lazily place kisses.

Right on cue the meal arrived. Breakfast for dinner was a classic, from the bacon egg and cheese on croissant to the pie slices as a dessert. Reluctantly, they separated to more easily eat and drink.

“This is as good as it usually is, mmm, actually, it’s even better.” Himiko said, taking their hand again.

“I agree. I don’t know if coming alone will cut it for me any more.” Kiyo leaned in and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Shall we move on to the next leg, or savor this moment some more?”

The food was finished or wrapped up for later.

After a few more minutes cuddling in the booth, the couple looked through the aisles closer to the cafe portion first and Kiyo’s stack started, growing through each section until they had to split the load and have Himiko carry some.

“Sheesh, I thought you were only getting a few.” she complained, intending it to be lighthearted.

“My list is quite long.” Kiyo replied with a chuckle.

“Guess this is why you needed the bag then. If this was only a few I have to imagine it’s as long as you are.”

“Oh my~” the tall one replied, complete with suggestive eyebrow wiggling.

“Kiyo! Not like that, I meant your height. Did Iruma from the Engineering department teach you that one?”

As that line of discussion thankfully ceased the couple came to the one Himiko was looking for, it was up front on the display close to the cashier. She picked up one copy and put it on her pile and handed the second over to Kiyo.

“We could have, like, a little book club date. Just the two of us.” If only it weren’t so difficult to nuzzle close due to all these books, she thought.

“I think I’d enjoy that. Your company is always a pleasure darling.” They briefly leaned up close, cutely brushing against her before leading the way to check out.

Himiko blushed. “Yeah this was nice, we should do it more often.”

With a couple of coupons Kiyo kept in their pocket the price was cut down, but still cracked 12,000 yen. They stuffed the back full and carried it over their shoulder. Umbrella similarly along their back for if it would be needed again.

Arms wrapped around each other, the couple walked out and noticed the rain had stopped for now, and it would be dry on the bus trips back home.

#himikiyo week #himikiyo #himiko yumeno #korekiyo shinguji #college professor #au #bookstore #first date #writing #fanfic #danganronpa #danganronpa v3

[eeveevie]

Salvation is a Last Minute Business (10/18)

Chapter 10: Your Head Always Loses

Madelyn returns to the New England Medical Center, and coordinates with Sergeant Danny Sullivan to keep Nick safe while the hunt for Eddie Winter continues. After delivering heart-breaking news to her partner, she travels to the state house to speak with Hancock and MacCready in the hopes they may have a lead. Later, while mourning their loved ones in a downtown church, Madelyn learns a new truth about Deacon.

“When your head says one thing and your whole life says another, your head always loses.” - Frank McCloud as played by Humphrey Bogart (Key Largo, 1948)

[read on Ao3] x  [chapter masterpost]

April 14th, 1958

By the time Madelyn and Deacon reached the New England Medical Center, the entire plaza had been barricaded, swarms of police vehicles surrounding the building while uniformed officers patrolled the perimeter, denying entry to anyone without hospital authorization. Local newshounds had crowded the emergency bay as well, clamoring for an interview with passing investigators and doctors. The chaos was more than Madelyn anticipated, the police attendance more abundant than she’d seen in recent months. The Boston Police department had been slow to respond to the increase in crime; disappearances, kidnappings and murders, most, if not all related to the gangland fight for territory. Rampant corruption had everything to do with their indifference—nearly the entire city had been bought out by Eddie Winter. She had every right to be suspicious of their presence, unsure of who to trust.

Piper had instructed them to enter through the side entrance, but Madelyn wasn’t convinced they’d be let through. Even if she managed to push forth some charm and use her credentials from the District Attorney’s office, it wasn’t a guarantee. The two circled the crowd, looking for a way forward. While Madelyn scanned the sea of people for a familiar face, she couldn’t help but glance to Deacon, who was uncharacteristically keeping his distance a few paces behind. He had donned his black wig and shielded his eyes, hiding any trace of the man she’d seen in her bed when she awoke just a few hours prior. For all the times he’d shown her comfort in the past, he wouldn’t touch her now, hadn’t done so since she roused from fainting.

The usually chatty Railroad agent was quiet now too, hardly speaking a word as they traveled from her apartment to downtown. Combined with the grief of Jenny’s death, Nick’s fate, and Winter’s whereabouts, Madelyn couldn’t make room in her heart for the turmoil their rift caused her. Separated by a few inches, it might as well have been miles with how her chest was aching. She clenched her fist, nails biting into her palms so she wouldn’t be tempted to reach out to him, desperate as she was to feel his hand in hers.

As they approached the entrance, a police officer predictably held them back with an outstretched hand, silently deferring to the throng of reporters. Madelyn dug through her purse for her identification, but the cop would not take the paper documentation, or give it a second glance.

“My partner is Nick Valentine, he’s a patient here. Jennifer Lands is—” she hesitated—was—and found her voice again. “Please, you have to let us through.”

The officer shook his head. “Ma’am, this is a secure scene. We’ve had enough loonies try and make their way into the E.R. this morning, we don’t need another one.”

He turned away, dismissing her in full. If she wasn’t frustrated before, she was now. Before she could argue or suggest that Deacon make himself useful and distract the guard so she could slip inside, another person came rushing towards them with enthusiasm. The man was shorter than her, and looked fresh out of college, baby-faced without a hint of stubble. He stuck out his arm, correcting his stance when he realized he’d shoved his notepad in her direction instead.

“Buster Connolly with the Boston Bugle,” he greeted in a rushed voice, as if his press credentials weren’t pinned to his coat. “Did you say you were with Nick Valentine? I could’ve sworn I recognized you! You’re the broad he’s always with, right?”

Beside her, Deacon bristled, but remained silent. She smiled politely, used to the microaggressions based on her gender that almost always erased her career accomplishments. Did anybody remember she was a lawyer anymore? Judging by how young Mr. Connolly was, his mishap was forgivable. Still, she was wary of his sudden interest and refrained from greeting him in kind—the Boston Bugle had its own problems with corruption when it came to covering Eddie Winter’s crimes.

Buster anxiously glanced to his notes. “Can you confirm the validity of the rumors that Eddie Winter was shot and injured sometime within the last forty-eight hours, and that there is currently a manhunt underway to locate him?”

Madelyn maintained composure, even as the memory came back in full force, flashes of Winter taunting her as he crushed her windpipe until she found the strength to fight back. Regret gripped at her with vice-like talons—if her aim had been deadlier, Buster wouldn’t be asking her these questions. If she’d had the nerve to kill him when she had the chance, Jenny would be alive.

“No comment,” Deacon answered for her, and she nearly flinched when his hand rested softly on the small of her back.

The young reporter frowned, flipping through more pages. “I have been tracking leads and rumors all across town, following the Valentine Detective Agency’s progress. Seems to me you’re the only ones that give a damn. There’s way more than what the police and media are telling us, but the higher-ups won’t let me publish anything on a whim.”

“I don’t have the same freedoms as that Public Occurrences paper does,” he lamented, practically staring at her in a similar way Dogmeat would when begging for table-scraps. “You gotta help me out. Is what they’re saying true? Is Eddie Winter behind everything that’s gone wrong in Boston?”

Piper’s voice echoed in her mind—freedom of the press—and she nodded.

“Yes,” she responded. “Yes, its all true.”

Buster scrambled to a fresh page, eager to write down the details, but he wouldn’t get a chance. The officer at the side entrance turned to face them again, pointing at her and Deacon.

“Miss Hardy was it?” he questioned, sheepishly. “I’ve been instructed to let you by. Sergeant Sullivan is inside waiting. He’s should be at the nurse’s station.” He instructed, pulling back one of the barricades so they could step through. “I uh…sorry about before.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

Just as Madelyn stepped through the doorway, she looked back to Buster, who was observing the entire exchange from the sidewalk. “Write the article.”

The inside of the hospital was just as bustling as it had been outside, nurses and doctors scrambling to work around the cops and detectives crowding the halls. Last night the emergency room had been a ghost town, but today almost every bay was occupied with freshly injured. In the center of it all, Sergeant Danny Sullivan stood, directing his men to different areas of the building and reading over reports passed to him by passing officers.  

“What the hell happened?” Deacon muttered, surveying the mayhem.

Madelyn wondered the same, moving to where the Chief Sergeant was dismissing the last of his force. “…and send an extra squad to city hall. Don’t know if the bastard is brazened enough to attack the mayor, but after this…”  

Sullivan rubbed at his jaw, deep in thought before performing a double-take in Madelyn’s direction. Instantly, his expression transformed into one of deep sorrow—a look she was all too familiar with. She wasn’t about to dismiss his sympathy, however, regardless of how new their alliance was.

“Miss Hardy,” he sighed, with a small shake of his head. “I didn’t think we’d be seeing each other again so soon, under such…grim circumstances.” His eyes flickered to where Deacon stood to her left, his hand still pressed against her back. “Is this your…?”

Sullivan’s subtle suggestion made Deacon drop his arm to the side, and she straightened, sucking in a breath so she wouldn’t overreact. In the past, he would’ve jumped at the opportunity to joke about being her significant other. Given the situation, it hardly seemed appropriate now. Nevertheless, the loss of contact left her cold. She steadied her resolve, knowing it was not the time to worry about her tumultuous feelings for the man.

“Sergeant Sullivan,” she greeted with a small gesture. “This is Deacon. I may have mentioned his work with the agency.”

“What is it that you do, exactly?” Sullivan asked, light eyes studying him carefully from head to toe as they shook hands.  

Deacon offered a small shrug, a glimmer of his usual self shining through. “That’s a need to know basis.”

Madelyn redirected the conversation, needing answers to the questions burning in her mind. “What happened?” she asked, voice breaking as she fought back a sudden wave of emotion.

Sullivan released a long sigh. “What we gathered from witness reports is that a group of Winter’s men attacked the hospital just before daybreak. They took hostages, including Miss Lands. A police force showed up, but it was a mix of his pocketed men and straight cops. All hell broke loose as soon as I arrived on scene.”

He pointed to the various medical bays. “We’ve got a few downed officers, two nurses, and one of Eddie’s,” he swallowed, the grim expression returning. “One fatality.”

Jenny.

Madelyn nodded, shifting her gaze to a far corner where the lights were dimmed, curtains drawn tight to prevent entry. Outside, two heavily armed officers stood guard, giving the appearance they were protecting a priceless set of jewels rather than a corpse. Jennifer Lands was precious, however, deserving of such safeguarding. The guilt threatened to suffocate Madelyn as she thought—if only Jenny had been under such careful protection when she was alive.

“Where’s Nick?” she barely managed to ask.

“Safe. He woke up an hour ago,” he explained with a deep frown. “He doesn’t know about…” Sullivan shifted uncomfortably. “He’s under the impression we’re here because it was a failed attack on his life.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t?” Madelyn countered.

“Until Winter is caught, I don’t think any of us are safe,” he responded. The sergeant further contemplated her question, fingers tapping at his chin. “I’d like to move him to a new, secure location, but I’m not sure if he’ll agree.”

At least Sullivan understood who he was working with. Nick wasn’t conscious when she’d set up their arrangement, and even before the Eddie Winter case, had never gotten along with the sergeant or Boston’s finest. Considering he was awaking to a new reality in which Eddie Winter was still free and his fiancé was dead, Madelyn wasn’t sure how her partner would react.

“I’ll talk to him,” she said, realizing she’d be the one to tell him about Jenny’s fate—a heavy burden, but it wouldn’t be right if the news came from anyone else.

Sergeant Sullivan escorted the two around the nurse’s station to the opposite side of the emergency bay, to the farthest room with a door. The blinds in the window had been drawn shut, either to stop bystanders from peeking in, or to prevent Nick from seeing more than necessary. A well-dressed detective stood guard, nodding to his superior as they approached. On the other side of the door, a body stood from the row of waiting-room chairs.

“Blue?”

Madelyn didn’t hesitate to embrace Piper as her friend rushed towards over, arms wrapping around her in a tight circle. The usually sarcastic and chipper reporter was now sobbing, face burrowed in the fabric of her friend’s coat. Madelyn consoled her, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over—if she lost poise now, she’d never be able to face Nick.

“It all happened so fast,” Piper’s muffled voice whispered by her ear. “Jenny—she, she’d stepped out for only a minute and the next thing I knew, Winter’s men were attacking. I shouldn’t have let her out of sight—”

Madelyn hushed her, wanting to take away the blame. If anyone was responsible, it was her—for letting Eddie Winter escape and live out his revenge plot fantasies. Nobody else deserved to shoulder the weight of that blame. Piper slowly pulled away, rubbing at her eyes before releasing a shaky breath. She regarded the two men standing astride with mild discontent but quickly refocused on Madelyn.

“I couldn’t tell Nick,” she spoke, the devastation and exhaustion clear. “He was too delirious, wanting an update on Winter, asking about you…” Piper pursed her lips, preventing herself from weeping once more. “Asking for Jenny.”

There was no stopping the tears now, hazing her vision as she blinked them away so they’d slide down her cheeks. With a small nod, she moved to open Nick’s door, but Piper stopped her, turning her away for one last hushed exchange of words.

“Did—did something happen between you and Deacon?” she asked, glancing over her friend’s shoulder to where he was standing out of earshot with Sergeant Sullivan. Was it that obvious? Madelyn didn’t have the time to explain it was more of a non-event that was causing the palpable tension in the air.

She frowned, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Not now.”

For once, Piper didn’t dig for more information. The two exchanged one last solemn look before Madelyn slowly let herself into the hospital room. The fluorescent lighting wasn’t as harsh in the small space, but the smell of antiseptic tickled her nose. Nick was propped up in the bed, the thick swath of bandages visible through his gown. He was still connected to an IV, and judging by the way his head rolled, they were keeping his pain managed.

“Hey doll,” he rasped, the green of his eyes dull when they slid open to look at her in the doorway. “Why all the tears?” his lips pulled to the side in some semblance of a smirk. “I’ve never felt better.”  

God—she choked back a sob—she was going to break his heart, and her own in the process. Hesitantly, she approached and stood next to the bed, gasping when his hand reached out grasp hers. Her knees were trembling—hell, her whole body was shaking with the overwhelming anxiety of what she had to say. Nick’s eyebrows furrowed, sensing there was something wrong. He studied her face, eyes lingering across the bruises around her neck. But she shook her head, preventing him from speaking.

“Nick,” she gripped his hand tighter, bracing herself to that spot. “I—I’m so sorry—”

He was perplexed. “What? What for?”

Madelyn didn’t miss a beat. “Jenny.”

It was all she needed to say.

Nick squeezed her hand hard—reactionary—and then simply let go. She watched his face, the clench of his jaw as the realization set in. Their eyes met, silently confirming the horrible truth—Jenny, his Jenny was dead. Madelyn had never seen Nick cry, but there was a first time for everything. Silent, as they streamed down his face and left tracks on his skin. She hadn’t known what to expect, but somehow, the subdued reaction was all the more unnerving—like his soul had departed, leaving behind an empty shell.

Then, he asked the inevitable. “Where is Winter?”

Unable to hide the truth from him, she answered honestly. “I don’t know.”  

Nick recoiled, expression swiftly shifting as the anger bubbled to the surface. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I—” Madelyn gaped, stumbling over what to say. “I shot him.”

She left out the details in-between, even though the marks on her skin were clear as day. She continued, struggling to stay in check—quickly spiraling when it wasn’t fair to Nick, who had every right to his emotions.

“I had to help save you,” she explained, tentatively resting her hand against his arm. “He—he got away.”

“He should be dead!” Nick barked, tearing away from her.

Madelyn flinched at the sound of his voice, echoing through the room. She couldn’t deny him the rage, however—he was right—and it was her fault. No explanation or apologies would ever suffice for the grief she’d caused. Nick started to shift from the bed, blinded by his fury.

“I’m going to find that bastard and blow his brains out!”

The door to the hospital room swung open, two nurses shooing Madelyn away as they practically pushed Nick back into the bed, one deftly administering a sedative that had him complacent within moments, and unconscious the next. Piper and Sullivan stood in the doorway, watching intently, parting to make room for her exit. She nearly collapsed in the closest chair but knew she couldn’t succumb to the darkness yet.

“Do you have any leads on Winter’s possible location?” she asked, surprising the two with her demeanor.

“Miss Hardy, I’ve got the rest of my best men working this, and officers on loan from Salem and Nahant combing the city,” he explained, trying to set her at ease. “You don’t need to do the legwork anymore.”

“Yes,” she argued, glancing to Piper who understood the determination and remorse she was carrying. “Yes I do.”

The reporter nodded at the sergeant. “We have our own resources. Our own informants. Blue just might turn up something your best men can’t.”

Sullivan relented with a long sigh. “Please, at least take a police escort—”

“No,” she protested, flicking her gaze to where Deacon was leaning against the opposite wall, expression unreadable as ever. That is, until she spoke, and his lips twisted into a frown. “I need to do this alone.”

The group said nothing, though she wondered if any of them truly agreed with her sentiment. Regardless, she had a plan, and needed to follow through with it.

“I’ve placed my faith in you Danny,” she said, glancing back into Nick’s room with a solemn expression. The sergeant silently nodded, understanding her meaning. “Don’t make me question that choice.”

The Old State House used to be the seat of Massachusetts government, until the New State House was built to replace it, standing tall for over a century. While Mayor McDonough occupied the new building and city hall, the Old State House doubled as a museum and John Hancock’s base of operations. One of the last places of refuge in Scollay Square, the mayor’s brother had built a reputation for himself as a trusted member of society. Still a somewhat shady character—you wouldn’t want to double-cross him—but he took care of his own. Fed the hungry, ran grassroot campaigns for the underprivileged, and was currently running a fierce campaign in an effort to kick the older McDonough from office. While Madelyn had limited run-ins with the man in the past, she knew he was somebody she could trust. Especially when it came to helping Nick and hunting down Eddie Winter.

Of the people, for the people—she regarded the red banner strung from the overhead balcony before entering the building, noting the sign that directed her upstairs if she was looking for ‘the offices of Mr. Hancock’. On the second story landing, she was greeted by a familiar face, though his actions were troublesome.

“Robert?”

MacCready grimaced at the formal use of his name, briefly pausing in his pacing to regard her as he took a long drag of his cigarette. He had never quite looked his age, but right now, he looked even worse for wear.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, glancing around. “Is everything okay?”

“I should be asking you that,” he responded, shaking his head. “Heard what happened at the hospital. To Nick,” he frowned, stopping to frown. “To Jenny.”

“But Eddie Winter is still out there? And here I am, a rat that helped you guys chase him down!” he continued, rushing through his words as he smoked through one cigarette and lit another. “I could be next!”

Madelyn sighed, wringing her hands together as she listened to the fear in his voice. Sullivan had made a similar notion—nobody was safe. As long as Eddie Winter remained free, anybody could be his next victim. She was about to offer her sympathy when the door behind him creaked open, revealing Hancock.

“Look who it is,” he greeted with an easy grin. By his side, a young boy was holding his hand, nervously hiding behind the trail of his red coat. “Did I mention how your pacing is scaring the kid?”

MacCready straightened, flicking his half-smoked cigarette to the ground, snubbing it out with his boot. “Sorry.”

“You ask me to babysit, and this is the thanks I get?” Hancock softly laughed, encouraging the young boy to step out from behind him. He crossed over to the mercenary, gripping his hand instead, switching his curious gaze towards Madelyn.

“This is Duncan, my son,” MacCready explained. “Can you say hi to the pretty lady?”

She smiled, maybe for the first time that day as Duncan waved his little fingers in her direction. “Hello.”

Hancock noticed her disposition and waved her over to his office. “Okay, the grownups are going to chat now,” he teased, earning an eyeroll from MacCready. “Bye-bye Duncan!”

“Bye-bye, John,” the little boy responded. “Bye-bye, pretty lady.”

Hancock hovered his arm around her waist as he led her inside, gesturing her to sit in the large, leather chair before his desk. Instead of sitting in his chair, he leaned against the sturdy oak, and crossed his arms.

“First, I want to offer my condolences,” he said, lips twisting into a grimace. “I know Nicky and I aren’t close, but it ain’t right what they did to Jenny.”

Madelyn nodded, twisting her fingers into the fabric of her dress. “That’s why I’m here, actually.”

“What, for sympathy?” Hancock smirked.

“No,” she furrowed her brows, remembering how difficult the man could be. “For help. Eddie Winter. He’s still out there. I want to know if you know anything, if you’ve heard anything.”

Hancock’s eyebrows jumped up in surprise, but he relaxed. “That’s a big ask, sister. But I’m happy to oblige. Winter is no friend of mine.”

“There were rumors that the police knew Eddie was planning on going after Valentine and Jenny, but it seemed so outrageous that nobody wanted to believe he’s be so brazen to go after a civilian.”

Madelyn knew there was truth to that based on the holotape with Eddie Winter’s vague threat. To hear there was more behind his recorded warnings, that the police knew—she was horrified. Though, it explained why so many corrupt officers showed up at New England Medical Center, only to cornered by Sullivan and his team. Jenny’s death, it seemed, was inevitable.

“I’m going to say something controversial, but hey, its kind of my shtick,” Hancock shrugged. “Did you ever stop to think Jenny was allowed to die, so they’d have something concrete to go after Winter for? This city doesn’t give a shit about mobsters being offed. But a beautiful, innocent dame?”

He cocked his head to the side, raising his hands. “Talk of the town.”

Her gut reaction was to stand and punch the blonde man’s grin off of his face. Reason and sensibility held her back as she thought about what he was suggesting. One person came to mind.

“Do you know anybody at the Boston Bugle?”

“Why?”

Madelyn shifted in her seat. “If we can’t find Winter the old-fashioned way, it’s time to lure him out. Scare him out with what we know. Piper’s tried with her smear campaigns, but it isn’t enough.”

Hancock nodded, understanding where she was heading. “Yeah, I got connections. And if they aren’t willing, I can be…persuasive.”

She stood, grasping his hand in a firm handshake. Surprisingly, the man pulled her into a loose hug, patting her affectionately on the back. When he pulled away, there was a subdued smile pulling at his lips.

“Whatever you need, sister.”

It was late by the time Madelyn left the Old State House, and common sense told her it was best to head home. Yet, she refused a ride from Hancock and neglected to share a cab with MacCready, insisting she would be fine on her own as she wandered aimlessly down the sidewalk. Walking alone in the dead of night in Boston Common—any rational person would call her crazy. Maybe she had a death wish. Or maybe, she was hoping Eddie Winter would surprise her from some dark alleyway and she’d get a second chance at taking him down. Realistically, though, she wasn’t sure if she’d be capable even if with a new opportunity for revenge. That belonged to Nick, and Nick alone.

Madelyn headed west, lingering for a long moment by the park gates. She hadn’t been there since early January, and before then, she had avoided the area ever since Nate’s murder. Instead of drifting towards the spot in the street where she’d lost a part of herself years ago, she stared down at the strip of red brick that signified the Freedom Trail. She studied the bronze plate, frowning at the red paint that had faded over time.

“Dame like you shouldn’t be out this late.”

Deacon. She twisted around to find him leaned against the nearest streetlight, hands tucked deep into his coat pockets. It mirrored their first—second—meeting, albeit the tone and dynamic between them had changed significantly since that cold, snowy night. Even so, she was glad to see him, heart a nervous pitter-patter in her chest when she thought about the circumstances keeping them apart.

“Nice to know you’re still following me around,” she responded lightheartedly, offering a small smile.

He approached—careful measured steps before he was standing in front of her with a similar, hesitant expression. “Of course,” he replied. “Someone’s got to.”

“Come on,” he said next, raising his arm to silently encourage her to link elbows.

Madelyn reciprocated, savoring the sensation, unsure of how long the physical contact would last. They had crossed an unspoken boundary—almost kissed—and now, she feared their bond would never be the same. It was selfish of her to want more, how greedy she felt to have his hands on her body, but it wasn’t meant to be. For now, she’d take what little comfort she could get.

She didn’t ask him where they were going as he led them further away from Boston Common, closer to Trinity Plaza and the library. It wasn’t until they circled the street corner and paused that she realized his intended destination—Trinity Church. The tall building, with its exquisite arches and stonework, stained glass windows shimmering in the moonlight stood as a sanctuary in the center of the Back Bay district. A beacon of hope to many, but to Madelyn, the sight made her anxious.

“Come on,” Deacon encouraged again, gently tugging her along when her feet didn’t budge from the sidewalk. She steadied herself, gripping his arm tight as she moved. If this is where he wanted to go, then she could find the resolve to follow.

Inside, the church was devoid of congregants, the lone priest silently acknowledging the two as they passed through the corridor and between the many rows of pews. Deacon led her towards the front corner of the expansive building, their footsteps echoing off the vaulted ceiling as they went. He stopped before the small dais of burning votive candles and shifted his arm to gently hold her hand. Growing up in a devoutly Catholic home, she was more than familiar with their intended use, and figured Deacon shared a similar upbringing—with all his biblical references and insistence on Railroad safehouse locations being abandoned churches, she’d be surprised if that turned out to be another one of his lies. She was only confused as to why he’d brought them there now. Madelyn couldn’t remember the last time she’d prayed, let alone in a church, and she hadn’t lit a candle for someone since Nate’s funeral. The memory had her trembling, squeezing Deacon’s hand so she wouldn’t collapse to the floor in a fit of tears.

“Remember when I said it couldn’t get much worse?” Madelyn recalled, swallowing the lump in her throat as she watched the flickering flames. “I’m afraid I was lying.”

“I do it all the time,” he responded with a cynic, half-smile and then reached out for a loose taper, passing one to her free hand. She dipped the end into the flame before passing it along to a new candle, watching as the wick ignited.

“For Nick,” she whispered, repeating the action for another name, the prayer silent in her mind. “For Jenny,” her voice wavered as she thought about how fresh that grief was. Some wounds never healed. Her vision was hazy with tears when she spoke again, lighting one last candle. “For Nate.”

Deacon’s grip on her hand tightened and she glanced to him, watching intently as he mimicked her movements, lighting his own candle. She figured that lone flame signified all the Railroad lives that had been lost—friends and colleagues that he couldn’t protect—like High Rise, or Henry.

He sighed. “For Barbara.”

Madelyn stared at his profile, unable to respond. An overwhelming sense of curiosity was begging her to ask—but she remained silent, releasing a shaky breath only when she realized she’d been holding it in. He turned his head, ever so slightly, and she knew he was looking at her through the darkened shades. She could feel the rapid beat of his pulse along his wrist, terrified he would pull away. But he stayed perfect still, just watching her.

“I’m a liar,” he suddenly spoke, not in the usual teasing manner he admitted to. This was anguish—regret. “Everybody knows it. I make no secret of it. Because the truth is, I’m a fraud. To my core.”

She didn’t know what to say, baffled at where this sorrow was coming from. Then again, maybe the events of the last few days, weeks and months had finally caught up to Deacon, and she had been the catalyst. Pushing him too far by asking too much of him, revealing too much of his true self. As if she didn’t have enough regrets.

“When I was young—God, how long ago now—I was…” he winced, eyebrows knitting together. “I was scum. Violent—”

Madelyn interjected. “We all make mistakes.”

“These weren’t just mistakes,” he protested. “You have no idea what I did.”

She gave him the chance to explain, and he did, continuing with a heavy sigh.

“Freshman year at Massachusetts Bay, I ran with a gang,” he started. “This was when all the crime families still had their footholds in Boston, and the Gunners had their fair share of crime statistics. We were the University Point Deathclaws—sounds cliché, but we were ruthless. Terrorized South Boston and Quincy just as much as those Gunner bastards.”

“Were you really that bad?” she asked, chest tightening. Madelyn wasn’t sure if it was in fear of the truth, or sadness that he’d held this back from her for so long.

“Worse,” Deacon muttered, turning away. “We kept egging each other on. Started with some property damage, graduated to some beat downs. Then, inevitably, a murder.”

Madelyn refrained from reacting, even though her heart was racing—so loud, she could hear it pounding in her ears. He had to be selling her another one of his lies, but there was a certain level of sincerity in his tone that told her otherwise. It was all true. He didn’t say anything for a long time, fingers twitching in her grasp, unable to look in her direction.

“Believe me when I say I didn’t know what they had planned to do that night until I was called up to help dispose of the body. That was enough for me,” his jaw tightened. “It was his eyes. Those eyes haunt me.”

Deacon continued, the burning candles reflecting off his shades. “As soon as I was able, I turned my brothers in, turned witness for the prosecution, and walked away scot free. It wasn’t fair, but back then, I only cared about getting as far away from the Deathclaws as possible. I broke all contact, transferred to D.C. and moved on with my life.”

“Then one day I found someone,” he said, pausing to release an uneven breath. “She saw something in me I didn’t know was there. Barbara, well, she was…She just was. I didn’t deserve her, but I married her all the same.”

Madelyn swallowed down the pain that burned at her throat, unable to ignore the way her stomach twisted into knots. Another woman—a woman who had loved him, and who he had loved in return. She cursed at the jealous thoughts running through her mind, knowing she had no right to them. Not when she had experienced a similar past—a profound love that had slipped through her fingers, lost forever.

“We were trying for kids,” he admitted, digging the knife in further—but he had no way of knowing that she and Nate had similar plans before his death. “Being with her made me feel like the whole world had a chance. She could do that to people.”

It was incredibly difficult to force herself to speak, to sound genuine. “She sounds special.”

“She was,” he responded. “The Claws found out about where I was, came to get their revenge. There was…blood.”

“I—I’m so sorry,” her breath left her in a strangled gasp. Even though she could infer the answer, she had to ask. “They…they killed her?”

Deacon glanced her way. “Yes.”

“I don’t remember much clearly after that. I know I killed most of them—self-defense maybe, but I must’ve made a big impression. The Railroad made contact, helped me disappear. They were sympathetic, seeing I’d just lost my wife. And, well, what I did afterwards.”

“I had no idea,” she murmured, shellshocked by his confession. He’d killed—found the revenge she’d been denied after losing a beloved—she wasn’t sure if she should be terrified of him, or in awe.

“Nobody does,” Deacon replied, nearly broken. Her heart leapt at the realization—she was the only one that knew. “I don’t even know why I lie anymore. But I can’t tell the truth. Everyone—Tom, Dez, Carrington, you…” he trailed off with a despondent sigh. “They deserve to be in the Railroad. I don’t. I’m everything wrong with this whole fucking Commonwealth, just as bad as Winter’s men who’ve been murdering and corrupting the city.”

“Charmer, you’re—” He squeezed her hand like it was the only thing keeping him rooted to that spot. “I don’t deserve—”

The words died on his tongue, leaving her to speculate what he couldn’t say. Madelyn always knew they were two sides to the same coin but didn’t realize how alike their pasts were. They had walked mirrored paths to end up in that exact moment, clasped hand-in-hand like two converging souls finding their way back to one another. Nothing had ever left her so confused, yet so full of clarity at the same time, every past flicker of emotion she’d held for him validated in one single moment. Fate had brought them together—a cruel fate—but fate nonetheless, and Madelyn didn’t want to let go.

“Why tell me the truth now?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

Deacon’s response was an action—simple enough—the gentle swipe of his thumb across her fingers, over the spot where she should’ve been wearing her wedding ring. She understood immediately, thinking back to the shared moment in her apartment and his hesitation to kiss her. But now, he’d lowered his emotional guard, let her beyond the walls where no one had been in years. He needed her to accept him for who he was—not just devoid of his disguises and gimmicks—but without the lies and stories. All the flaws, the mistakes—he needed her to understand he was still seeking atonement for the past.

So was she.

Madelyn caught him off guard when she turned towards him, gently tugging on his hand so he’d face her properly. He stared at her expectantly, lips parted as if he had something to say. Their conversation still weighed heavily on her mind—she wanted to kiss him, but there was still too much grief consuming her heart. Without saying another word, she wrapped her arms around his torso, pressing her face against his shoulder as she hugged him, hoping it would be enough. Instantly, his arms enveloped her, tucking her tight against his chest as he rested his chin on her head. Wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, she felt at peace, listening to the pounding of his heart.

“I’m in your corner, Deacon,” she said, quietly mumbling the words into his shoulder, echoing a sentiment he’d shared with her before. “I’m with you, till the bitter end.”

#fallout 4 #noir au #deacon x f!solesurvivor #madelyn hardy #deacon #nick valentine #piper wright #robert joseph maccready #hancock #danny sullivan #this chapter was the ultimate doozy in terms of ouch emotional pain #plus a tender church scene #there's some use of canon dialogue here but hey #8 chapters left? jfc

[mamajeanetc]

India Part 3:  Jaipur

We had another early wake-up call as our first stop for the day was The Amber Fort, which derives its name from Ambikashwara -- the local name for the Hindu god, Shiva.  If we didn’t get there early enough there would be a long wait for the elephants, it would be crowded and hot!  Just a few miles outside Jaipur, near the village of Amer, it was about a 20 minute drive from our hotel.  We stopped as we approached to get a view from the road. 

There’s a parking lot just beyond where we are standing.  From there you can ride an elephant up to the fort, walk or hire a jeep.  The travel agent had booked an elephant ride as part of our package and fortunately there were only a couple of parties in front of us in line.  Here are the elephants waiting to go to work, some of them painted with detailed designs: 

Each elephant is allowed to make 4 trips to the fort each day.  We rode Chandra: 

Here are a couple of views on our ride up to the fort: 

The white bus in this photo is on the road where we stopped and took the photo as we approached. 

There was a section where quilts were being sold -- all with elephant designs!

There were also several photographers running along the side of the road taking photos and shouting their names at us -- hoping we would meet them at the top and buy our photos. 

But we had our personal photographer, Sanjeev, who had my phone and had caught a ride to the top in a jeep.  He got this photo of us inside the fort: 

This was the view as we entered the fort: 

After we said good-bye to Chandra and our driver, Sanjeev went to get tickets and Tim offered his assistance:

We spent the next couple of hours touring the fort which is quite extensive  as the original structure was modified and added on to for about 150 years.  The ruling family lived there at times, so it is sometimes called the Amber or Amer Palace. 

The Ganesh Gate is named for the Hindu god who takes away all obstacles in life and is the main entrance to the private palace.  It is a 3-level structure covered in frescoes.  Above the gate are lattice covered windows where the women of the royal family could watch functions going on in the big courtyard.

This is a view of one of the internal gardens from the level above it. 

This palace did have internal bathrooms.  Sanjeev demonstrated proper positioning -- he occasionally went off on tangents of a more personal nature than one would normally expect from a tour guide. .  .  awkward!

They also had a hot tub!  In the photo below, the left side shows the actual tub.  The photo on the bottom right shows the fire pit underneath a room next door to the hot tub.  The water would be heated there and then piped into the tub!

Summers are very hot in this part of India.  Frankly, October was pretty hot!  There was no central AC so the people liked to sleep outside.  But of course the men and women slept separately and the women were not allowed to sleep in the open.  So, this hall of mirrors was constructed as a sleeping place for the women during the hottest times of the year.  There were some open walls, but the ceiling and internal walls were covered in mirrors; they’d light a few oil lamps and the reflection off all the mirrors gave the effect of sleeping under the stars. 

This wing of the palace was the “ladies apartments”.  There are multiple entries, stairs and hallways, allowing the king to visit whichever wife or concubine he wanted without everyone knowing where he was going. 

Sanjeev waited in the courtyard and suggested Tim and I go check out the ladies apartments.  We walked in and went up one set of stairs.  As we decided which way to go a young man employed to sweep came out of a room next to us and motioned us to follow him.  He spoke little English, but enough to clearly express his thoughts on American politics.  He asked where we were from.  When I said “The US” he stopped, turned towards us and bowed as he said “Obama”.  Then he turned away said, “Trump not good man” and walked on.  He took us to the top level on the outer wall where we had a view of the nearby Jaigarh Fort where he had us pose so he could take a picture (for which we, of course, tipped him). 

There is a tunnel connecting these 2 forts, just in case an escape route was needed.  It is accessible from 3 different parts of the fort.  We were able to see a small section of it, using the flashlights on our phones. 

Back in the courtyard outside the ladies apartments, this pavilion was a place where the royal ladies could meet.  There were curtains hanging which made 12 separate entrances.  The king, or maharajah only allowed 4 women to meet at a time. 

As we were leaving we saw these huge iron vats.  With a fire underneath, they could be used to cook for the entire army . . . or to just boil oil if there was an enemy approaching!

We left the Amber Fort and met a local guide who took Tim and I on a tour of the village of Amer and a trek in the hills outside the town and fort.  In town we visited a couple of temples. 

A particular type of basil AKA known as tulsi or holy basil is highly revered in the Hindu religion -- you will find a pot of it outside many temples and homes.  It is used for medicinal properties but there are guidlines for Hindus as to when and how they can cut and use it. 

At every Hindu temple there is also a bell hanging somewhere near the statue of whatever god/goddess the temple is for.  Worshippers reach up and ring the bell as they approach, which serves 2 purposes -- 1. to let the god know they are approaching, 2. the sound waves chase away any evil spirits in the area. 

We also saw another stepwell in Amer.  Like most stepwells there was a small temple at the top -- strategically located to both protect and give thanks for the water source.

And we saw that by mid-morning the streets of Amer are jammed with traffic as tourists try to get to the Amber Fort.  We were there on Mahatma Ghandi’s birthday which is a national holiday so there were more people than on a typical Monday. 

We narrowly escaped disaster due to this traffic.  We turned down a very narrow side lane and were walking single file down a slight incline.  There was a ditch running along the side of the road with a few inches of very dirty water -- probably sewer.  A guy trying to escape the traffic jam decided to back down the lane -- at a good pace.  I heard yelling and turned when he was just inches from hitting me. Tim later said I “pulled out my ninja” --  I slammed both my hands against the back of his vehicle and at the same time jumped my feet across the ditch.  There was a wall on the other side of the ditch so not a lot of room.  I used my arms on the vehicle to brace myself so my feet were against the side of the ditch.  My left toes got a bit wet, but otherwise all was fine.  Several local men came running down the street and after making sure I was OK they turned and started yelling at the driver.  We made a quick escape.  

Although there are many old buildings in Amer which are falling down, on the edge of town we saw this haveli (a traditional townhouse or mansion) that has recently been restored. 

Leaving town we passed a place where cow dung was spread out drying, to be used as fuel. 

We thoroughly enjoyed walking in the hills for the next hour or so -- no people, no traffic, no noise!  This is a view looking back at Amer.  You can also see a portion of “India’s China wall”. 

We saw a couple of peacocks from a distance and found some feathers on the path. 

Part of the time we walked along a dried up canal that is used for channeling water downhill into a dam during the rainy season.

We ended our trek back down the hill at the dam. 

Sanjeev and Mr. Singh were supposed to meet us near the dam but we called and told them we would walk through the village and meet them so we wouldn’t get caught in the village traffic jam.   Once we met up we headed back to Jaipur, stopping on the way to see the “Lake Palace”.  Built in the middle of a lake bed, it was also known as the “summer palace” because the royal family would go there during the summer because it was cooler than the fort. 

The palace is 5 stories high, but how many floors were usable depended on the water level.  Right now only 2 stories are above water. 

Back in Jaipur we stopped at an artisan workshop where they do fabric stamping and also make rugs.  At the entrance we were given a brief demonstration of the stamping.  

Using 4 stamps with different colors of ink he created this elephant: 

Nearby we watched a couple of guys stamping large pieces -- sheets or tablecloths. 

Inside we saw how hand-woven carpets are made.  It starts at this loom where this guy ties individual knots so quickly his fingers are a blur. 

He tried to teach me how, which was a few minutes of good entertainment, but not very productive! 

Once the whole carpet is woven they take it off the loom, turn it upside down and go over it with this torch which kind of seals the fibers together. 

Next, a special tool is used to go along each line and separate the knots. 

Then a woman goes over the top of the carpet with scissors, trimming all the threads to the exact same length.  The manager told us this is the most important and most difficult job because the work has to be so precise. 

Finally, the carpets are hand-washed, dried and taken to the showroom.  Of course, we also were taken to the showroom after our demonstration -- seated in comfortable chairs, served beverages . . . and shown carpets!

We weren’t in the market to buy, but enjoyed seeing some of the different styles and the military-like precision with which the guys working in the showroom would roll out the carpets.  There were 2 types of wool, silk and camel’s hair.  Although Tim thought the silk was prettiest, the camel’s hair was definitely the softest on bare feet! 

Leaving the artisan workshop we were definitely ready for a lunch break before we continued our tour of Jaipur.  I realize as I write this that I didn’t take a lot of food photos during this trip.  Don’t get the wrong impression -- the food was great.  We enjoyed every dish that we had.  But a lot of Indian food, even though delicious, doesn’t necessarily make a pretty picture.  However, we did have a couple of photo-worthy meals . . . stay tuned.  The interesting thing about this meal was that after we finished our meal they brought this plate to the table and we had no idea what we were supposed to do with it. 

The little bowl on top is crystalized sugar; the other dish is anise seed.  Your supposed to scoop a spoonful of each into your hand and then put the mix in your mouth and chew it to freshen your breath.  We did see this on a few other occasions but I don’t like licorice so never partook. 

We went to the old city of Jaipur after lunch, where we started our tour at the City Palace.  Much of the royal palace has been made into a museum, but there is a portion of it (the yellow) that still serves as a residence for the royal family of this area/state.  Although India is now a democracy and not ruled by royals, they still exist as figureheads.  When the small flag is flying the king is home. 

Photography is not allowed in most of the inside museum areas, but we saw lots of paintings of royal family members and gatherings over the years, weapons and textiles.  Displays in the courtyard areas included buggies through the ages: 

There were 2 of these “gangajali”  or silver jars.  Each one is made from 14,000 Jaipur silver coins which were melted down. The process took 2 silversmiths 2 years to complete.  The jars stand 5′3″ and weigh about 345 kgs. each.  Each has a capacity of 900 gallons.  In 1902 the Maharaja Sawai Madho Singh II was traveling to England for the coronation of Edward VII.  He did not want to drink water from a foreign land (pretty ironic coming from India!) so he had these filled with water from the Ganges river and took them with him. 

Hard to get a good photo with all those reflective surfaces, but you get the idea!

Our next stop was “Jantar Mantar”, an ancient observatory.   It is a collection of 19 architectural astronomical instruments completed in 1734 and now a UNESCO World Heritage Site.  The instruments allow observation of astronomical positions with the naked eye.  I certainly didn’t understand how they all work, but that someone was able to figure it all out was pretty impressive.  This is one of a couple of variations on a sundial. 

And this represents half of a celestial sphere which is used to find positions of stars and planets.  It has a pair which represents the other half of the sphere. 

I didn’t understand this next set of structures well enough to explain, so I’m providing a photo of the information we were provided: 

I just know that I’m a Scorpio

And Tim’s a Gemini:

From the observatory we took a short tuk-tuk ride to our next stop -- always an adventure! 

As you can see, a tuk-tuk is not a very spacious vehicle -- the 2 of us filled one seat and Sanjeev was sitting across from us, facing us.  Supposedly in India there is a limit of 3 people/tuk-tuk, but we frequently saw more.  One day we counted 11 heads and wondered how many little kids we’re in there that we couldn’t see! 

Our next stop was the “Hawa Mahal” which translates to Palace of Winds.  It was built in 1799 and was essentially a high screen wall built so the women of the royal family could observe everyday life in the street below, as well as festivals, without their faces being seen.  Constructed of red and pink sandstone, it is a 5 story structure with 953 small windows and intricate latticework.  The latticework also allowed for air flow which cooled the entire place during the hot summer months.   This is the view from the street:

And the view of the street from inside: 

Many of places were structured so 2 women could watch together -- 1 standing up and one sitting or squatting on the floor. 

Finishing our tour of the Wind Palace, we met another local guide who took us on a tour of a local area filled with markets, shops and artisans.  Our guide had grown up in this area and knew his way around this maze of little streets like the back of his hand.  We started on a street that had “utensil” shops -- which basically meant all kinds of cooking/kitching equipment: 

We turned a corner onto a street with shops that were making special sugar candies for the upcoming Deepavali (Indian New Year) holiday in a couple of weeks. 

We passed shops with bangles, clothing, food, household goods, etc.  The streets were quite narrow: 

Originally constructed as multi-level homes, most of the ground level is now shops while the shop owners continue to live in the upper levels.  As you can see, the streets are quite crowded:

And there were motorcycles everywhere. 

Most of the time we had to walk single file and we were constantly dodging the motorcycles.  As we entered one intersection our guide was in front of me and Tim was behind me.  The guide crossed, but as I started across I could see motorcycles coming from both directions.  I was in the middle of the intersection with no where to go so I closed my eyes, put my hands over my head, and screamed.  The motorcycles stopped and I made it across.  Our guide kind of chucked and said, “The motorcycles will usually stop.”  It’s the “usually” that bothers me!

We walked through a large produce market with beautiful fruits and vegies:

Just around the corner was another market area where the vendors were done selling for the day.  Rather than pack up any unsold produce and carrying it off, they leave it there and the cows in the area (who know what time of day this will happen) come for dinner. 

Tim had cracked the screen cover on his phone and had been looking for a new one the whole trip.  On our walk through these narrow lanes we came upon a place that had one and the guy put it on for Tim -- not exactly Best Buy, but they got the job done, and at an excellent price! 

We passed several cows wandering .  . . this one seems to have gotten into a bit of a tight spot. 

The building in the background with murals is a Jain temple.

Our guide knew of (and had a key to) a building which was a guesthouse at the time of the original construction of this area.  It sits vacant, but unchanged.  This is the front door. 

On the ground floor there was a large gathering room.  Of course, the men could gather here, but the women, who could not be seen, could observe from the windows above. 

The ceiling gives you an idea of how it was once nicely appointed. 

Upstairs we used the flashlights on our phones to make our way down the very narrow hallways where there were several small guestrooms and a couple of communal bathrooms. 

On our way back to meet Sanjeev and Mr. Singh our guide took us on a short-cut through a bridal market.  There must have been 100 shops in a row selling everything you need for an Indian wedding, but clearly the major emphasis was on what the bride would be wearing.  In many shops we saw young ladies with family and friends looking at all the colorful options. 

I think there were 2 shops for the grooms, and they weren’t nearly as colorful. 

As we approached the gates of the City Palace, our designated meeting spot, we noted that the street which, when we had arrived a few hours earlier, had been lined with food carts and other street vendors, and full of honking cars and motorcycles was now relatively quiet and goats were cleaning up any food scraps left behind!

Sanjeev asked on the way back to the hotel if we wanted to clean up and then go to a nice restaurant in the downtown area for dinner.  We’d been on the go for about 12 hours and I’d defied death twice . . . we were definitely ready for a shower and a quiet dinner at the hotel!

[disrepairhouse]

Chapter 9 - Aftermath

“I heard she likes sitting off in dark corners just waiting to scare people.”

“What?  That’s creepy.”

Itara shot a spiteful glare over her shoulder, catching the attention of her two barely-whispering classmates, watching their faces flush at the realization that she heard them.  They turned back around, whispering much quieter, and Itara continued on through the cafeteria, grumbling angrily under her breath as she headed for the empty staircase again.  Kipper wasn’t with her today, though, so she would be eating entirely by herself.

Word had spread annoyingly fast around her school after the New Year’s party, even though only two actual classmates were even there. It wasn’t the worst rumor, having everyone think she was creepy and that she liked to scare people.  It wasn’t the first time people thought she was creepy and if anything it kept them further away from her, which she preferred.  Though, if anything, she actually wanted them all destroyed rather than just scared.  So no, it wasn’t the rumor, itself, that bothered her so much… it was the fact that Camilla had been the one to spread it.  No doubt it made its way to Sceira, as well, and the last thing she wanted was to give Sceira any kind of material to further mock her with.

Huffing, she dropped down on the bottom two stairs and set her lunch in her lap, glaring at the wall as she picked at her food. Maybe she’d get lucky and the school would be attacked again.  Maybe it’d even be destroyed completely and she’d never have to come again.  As if she’d ever been so lucky.

With a sigh, she set her food aside and pulled the worn black notebook out of her backpack, flipping through the pages filled with scribbles and notes and sketches, scanning over them to make sure there was nothing new.  The last entry was the previous night’s.  Nothing from today.  Nothing from the future.  Still. Nevertheless, she closed her eyes and tried searching out for the timelines, or even just the shadows, to see if she could feel them at all yet.  She tried opening a portal, summoning a monster—since they’d been appearing again, after all—or manipulating the shadows.  But there was still nothing.  Like reaching out into a void.  Nothing answered back.

Opening her eyes again, she stared out at the wall in front of her, leaning forwards on her knees and sighing.  “I know they’re still there… so why can’t I access them?”

“Access what?”

She nearly shrieked at the sudden voice, whirling around and scowling at the grey-eyed mobian standing at the staircase entrance. “N-None of your business!” she hissed, shoving her notebook back into her backpack and grabbing her lunch, jumping to her feet, “if you’ve come to mock me, save your breath!  I’ve heard it all already.”

“I’m not even here for you, Itara,” Sceira scoffed, “I was just passing by and heard you talking to yourself again.”

As her face flushed up, she was briefly grateful that the pseudo-scorpion couldn’t see, glaring off to the side, “I was just th-thinking out loud.  L-Leave me alone.”

“I don’t know what you’re always up to, Itara, skulking about and mumbling to yourself all the time, but I hope you know it won’t fly,” the other girl warned, narrowing pale eyes in the hedgehog’s general direction, “we don’t need any troublemakers here.”

Itara studied her carefully, narrowing her own eyes, but scoffing and looking away again, “what I do is no concern of yours.  Or anyone’s, for that matter.”  Wanting to get away before she said anything more, always on the verge of threatening people with the full extent of what used to be her power, she shoved her way past Sceira and into the hallway, “I suggest you keep your nose where it belongs, Sceira.” She heard nothing more from the other mobian as she continued down the hall, heading outside, instead, since her stairway spot had been impeded on.  She would need to find a new hiding spot.  Somewhere further from everyone.

Maybe she could go back up to the roof during lunch.

Checking her phone one last time, she looked at the time and up at the train station signs.  She was finally out of the Hellscape called School, but she didn’t entirely feel like going back home just yet.  There were things she’d wanted to look into since the incident on the roof, but RK kept refusing to take her into town to look into the shrine, finding new reasons every time she asked.  Well, just because she looked like a child, didn’t mean she actually was one.  If she had to ride the train home on her own, anyway, and since it went through the city, she could just go herself.  She didn't necessarily need someone with her to visit her father’s shrine in Soleanna, but she would have felt better going with RK.

She did text him and let him know she was going, just in case. Her main solace was that no one else remembered the previous timelines.  If not even Shadow recognized her, no one else should, either, even if she ran into someone, they wouldn’t know her.  It would be fine, as long as she got off at the right stop on the train ride over.  She’d never taken a train before recently and, while she knew how to get to school and home, she wasn’t sure where the rest of the stops led.  Surely the heart of Soleanna would be easy to pinpoint, though.

Once the train pulled up and she found a spot closest to the large map of railways and stops, she pulled her notebook out and drew it out for herself on an empty page.  She always had a good half hour or so between stops so she figured she would have plenty of time to draw out what she would need.  She made note of everything the speaker said at each stop, scribbling as many notes as she could, tracking what went where.  When the train grew more packed, she figured she was likely close to where she needed to be but still wasn’t sure which stop was the correct one. And she refused to ask the mortals.

When the speaker mentioned a ‘Soleanna Station’, it jolted her out of her thoughts just in time for the train to start slowing.  Keeping her notebook out, just in case she needed to draw more maps and directions, she pulled her backpack back on and wiggled her way through legs and taller mobians to reach the door.  She barely tripped her way out onto the cement platform before the doors closed again.  Huffing, she straightened herself back out, looked around to make sure no one was mocking her, and turned to find another map.  Luckily she knew the actual streets of Soleanna well enough that once she determined where she was, she could find her way.

Checking her phone again to see if RK had responded yet, she tucked it away when there were no messages and continued her search for a map. Why did humans have to be so tall, though?!  As if it wasn’t bad enough that she was small even for a mobian, the humans were so much taller, and so tightly packed into the station, it was all she could do to stay on her feet, let alone find what she was looking for.  Stumbling, and half-shoving, through the crowds, she found a far wall and decided the streets were an easier option.  She could find her way from there.

“Excuse me, are you lost, little one?”

Itara’s ears flattened at the childlike tone, resisting the urge to growl, and looked up at the annoyingly tall human towering over her.  He looked as though he worked in the station and, to anyone else, had a friendly enough face, only wanting to make sure a small child didn’t get separated from their parent.  But to Itara he was a nosy human mocking her for being small and insinuating that she couldn’t find her way on her own.

“I’m fine,” she explained, with barely disguised irritation, causing the man to jerk back in surprise.

“Right, of course.  You just looked a little lost; did you get separated from someone?  It’s easy to lose people around here but I can help you find them.”

Sighing, Itara waved him off, “I d-didn’t lose anyone. I’m by myself and I know perfectly well where I’m going, thank you.  Everyone is just too tall and in my way.”

“Oh, I see, okay then.  Well, there’s always someone in those little buildings there if you ever need anything, alright?”

She glanced over at the small, four-walled room set up on the edges around the platform.  They had one door and three of the four walls had large windows in them to see the person inside.  The one the man was pointing to was empty, suggesting he was normally there.  Looking back up at him, she nodded curtly and turned away again, “I’ll remember that.” Not that she would ever need help from anyone, anyway… except maybe RK.  And Kipper… once in a while.  But they were the exceptions.  Turning towards the stairs leading up to the streets, she continued her way out. Despite what she told the man, she was still lost, but knew she’d find her place once she was back in the open air. She’d travelled all across this city, multiple times, in multiple timelines, both intact and destroyed. She didn’t need help finding the center.

Then again.

Now that she was thinking about it, she did usually have to use inactive time travel powers to get to places on time.  It wasn’t exactly uncommon for her to get a little lost and have to write out her own directions for her past self.  It was also a little easier to find the center of a city when it was completely flattened and she could see the center from several miles away.

Scratching her cheek, she gave a long look around, studying various signs and looking for familiar buildings, realizing more and more how little she actually paid attention to her physical surroundings.  Well.  Still, the center shouldn’t be that difficult to find!  She’d just walk towards the sun, surely that would lead her to the shrine.  Nodding with her decision, she set off; taking careful notes about everything she passed so just in case she happened to get lost, she would at least know where she’d already gone.

She followed the setting sun down the longest stretch of road she could find, passing a number of shops, diners, and tall buildings, some of which she recognized.  From the original timeline.  They were some of the few buildings to remain somewhat intact in what came to be known as Crisis City.  A shudder ran up her spine as she passed them, prompting her to pull her coat closer around her and briefly wonder why she had to wear a skirt even in winter.  As much as she liked her loose-fitting clothing, even she thought the skirt uniform was a poor winter choice.

The longer she walked, the lower the sun got, and the colder it got; and yet, she was still no closer to finding the shrine than she started out.  Huffing out loud, she stopped to glare around, catching the attention of some passersby, but straightened back up when her phone went off.  Pulling it out of her coat pocket, she checked the text, which mostly boiled down to RK telling her to get home before it got dark, and huffed again.  She refused to go home until she accomplished what she came to do, and she told him as much before shoving the phone angrily back in her pocket.

Fine!  She would ask someone!  Her feet were starting to hurt and it was cold, she wanted to hurry up and find her dad’s shrine so she could yell at him for making her suffer like this!  Looking around, she waltzed into the nearest shop, which happened to be a small restaurant, and walked angrily up to the counter where a yellow hedgehog stood, punching numbers into the register.

“I need to find Solaris’ Shrine!  T-Tell me how to get there!”

The hedgehog jolted at the rather sudden outburst, leaning over the counter to meet her eyes, staring curiously.  “Uh,” it took them a moment to register what she even asked before shaking their head, “oh, uh, sure.  It’s in Town Square just a mile or so that way,” they pointed down the street in the direction Itara had come from, causing her to grimace.  “If you follow the road this way and then take a right on main, it’ll take you right to it,” they continued, looking around before looking down at her again, “did you get separated from your parents? Do you need me to call someone?”

Itara huffed.  Again with this.  “No.” She turned towards the door, stopping after a moment and muttering a small, “thank you for the directions.” Walking back out of the restaurant, she sighed loudly at having to go all the way back.  That’s what she got for following the sun, apparently.  How dare her father lead her astray like that? Well, she could yell at him for that, too, once she reached the shrine.  She got another text from RK, but she was too angry to check it this time, and instead focused on hurrying back down the street… without tripping. If she could run without tripping over her own feet, she would have, but the best she could do was walk quickly. At least the city sidewalks weren’t covered in ice and snow like the sidewalks in the neighborhood.

By the time the shrine finally came into sight, the sun was nearly gone under the horizon and Itara was utterly freezing and tired and extremely cranky.  The lights around the square, shimmering off the fallen snow that coated various statues and buildings, along with the long stretch of orange and pink sky was a lovely sight, but Itara was far too irritated to look at it for long.  Once the shrine was within sight, she stormed right up to the water’s edge, glaring at the towering stone torch-like structure in the middle of the square.  The massive torch and surrounding buildings sat at the center of a great, deep pond, the sparkling orange sky dancing off the nearly black rippling waters.  A stone statue with great, widespread wings stood on a pedestal in front of the main structure, the bright red gem in its chest glinting in the torchlight.

Itara stared at the statue from the railing around the waterway, wishing she could get closer, wanting to make sure her father heard her, but knew the only way over to the small inlet directly in front of the statue was by boat.  And she still couldn’t float.  Sighing, she glared towards the setting sun, watching it fall behind the horizon, before directing her glare back to the stone statue.  The square was busy as always, despite the cold and the setting sun, but Itara had found a relatively empty area to study the shrine from.

“I hope you know… I’m mad at you,” she threw out, her glare firmly on the statue.  She could see the small chipped slashes where the monster had likely attacked before being run off even from her spot.  “I don’t know why you aren’t answering me… and I don’t know why I can’t access my powers, but I hope you at l-least know I’m mad at you.  B-But I also intend to… I’ll also look into the monsters that attacked. As much as I can.  Without my powers, I-”  She stopped when a couple walked near her, keeping a sharp eye on them until they were gone again, then back towards the statue, “in either case, I hope you at least answer me soon.”  Staring down towards the water, she studied the sparkling lights, about to turn and leave when a much larger orange glow appeared in the water’s reflection near her.

Looking up again, she caught the brief sight of a glowing, burnt orange creature running away from the square and tilted her head curiously.  She had only seen it for a split second before it disappeared, but it almost looked like… one of Iblis’ Biters.  She knew that shape well enough, she’d recognize it anywhere, even at a glance.  First one of Gaia’s Nightmares, now a Biter?  What was going on?  She hesitated only a moment before jumping away from the railing to follow it towards the alley it had disappeared into.  Normally she would avoid Iblis’ creatures as much as possible, the Nightmare already tried attacking her, there was little reason a Biter wouldn’t, as well.  But on the off-chance that it was, in fact, some form of response from her father, since neither Iblis nor Mephiles technically existed anymore, she didn’t want to miss the opportunity.

She crossed the square to the alleyway, giving only a quick look around before walking down it.  It was an empty enough space, just a small road between buildings, no one was around.  The further down the alley she walked, the warmer it got, much to her utmost comfort. The source of the heat walked out from around a far corner before long, revealing the—much smaller than she was used to—smoldering Biter.

She stopped, unsure whether or not it planned to attack, the creature doing the same as they stared one another down.  When it didn’t attack outright, she glanced around before reaching a hand cautiously towards it, “I-it’s okay… I won’t hurt you… you’re made by my dad, right?”  It was strangely comforting, seeing the creature again, as many terrifying memories as she had with them, it had been so long since she felt that familiar warmth.

But just as she thought the Biter might actually recognize her, or at least confirm it wasn’t a threat to her, it moved into a defensive pose and growled viciously, exposing it’s long, molten fangs, its tail whipping angrily behind it.  Panicking, she held her hands up in defense, taking a couple steps back, “n-no, d-don’t… i-it’s o-okay, d-don’t-!”  Her words went unheard, however, as the creature crouched, causing Itara to lock up in place.  She couldn’t even duck out of its way and, instead, felt her spines crystallize, worsening her panic.

As the Biter leapt, likely taking the altered form as a threat, Itara could only snap her eyes shut, her ears pinning back at the sound of the growl, screeching in horror when it knocked her over.  Its body was heavy and pinning her down, the once comforting heat turning scalding to the touch as the molten fangs hovered dangerously over her.  Her hands burned as she tried pushing its massive jaws away, fiery claws stabbing into her sides, her own crystals stabbing uncomfortably into her back where she landed on them.

When she thought she couldn’t hold it any longer, however, as her arms were far from strong enough to really keep it at bay for any period of time, there was a sudden whirring through the air and the creature screeched in pain as it flew further down the alley.  A light thud sounded beside her and it took her until someone pulled her back to her feet and talked to her before she focused enough to realize what had happened. Wide, horrified purple eyes met shining, confident green ones as the taller blue hedgehog looked over her.

“…Alright, there?  Hey, it’s okay, it’s gone now,” he grinned, “but man, this place has been busy lately!  You should be careful from now on, there might be more of those things.”

“Y-You!”  Itara jerked back and away from the other hedgehog, pulling her hands back and nearly tripping over her feet. He jumped, reaching for her again before she fell back against the concrete.

“Well that’s a reaction I don’t normally get,” he laughed, making sure she would stay on her feet, seeming to not notice the utter panic his mere presence was causing.  “C’mon, why don’t I get ya home?  Those look like some bad burns, you should get them taken care of.”

Itara, however, only stared in wide-eyed horror, taking another unconscious step back.  Of all the mobians.  All the hedgehogs.  Why did it have to be him?  Sure, he obviously didn’t recognize her, just like Shadow didn’t, he wasn’t even saying anything about her crystals, but just being in such close proximity to Sonic, especially right after being attacked, was too much for her to process properly.  She had little control over herself as she stammered out the first response that came to mind.

“Why are you even alive?”

“What?”  He jerked at the response, having not expected it and crossed his arms in thought, raising an eyebrow, “that creature wasn’t that difficult to beat.  I mean, I guess it looks pretty tough but it’s no big deal for me.”

Itara shook her head, taking a moment to calm herself and mentally sighed at his cluelessness.  Well, it benefitted her at the moment, but it did little to calm her irritation.  She thought she’d finally gotten her response from Solaris, seeing the Biter, but then it attacked her.  Now to see Sonic so closely again, considering the last time she saw him was no fond memory of hers, it was too much.  She closed her eyes tightly, trying to calm herself.  Sonic spoke up again, but she heard none of what he said. Instead, only a dizzying wave of confusion came over her and a growl echoed through the alleyway.

Opening her eyes, her brows furrowed when, instead of Sonic, she saw the Biter again.  She had expected it to get back up, but not so soon and not in front of her.  It had been behind her a moment ago.  In addition, Sonic was gone.  She was facing down the alleyway the other direction again and the Biter had moved back into a pouncing position.  What happened?

She had little time to contemplate it as the creature pounced again.  This time, being more distracted by the repeat situation than the creature, itself, she dove out of the way with a small yelp.  The heat of the creature flew over her, but as she moved to get back to her feet and try to run, a crackling and sharp rush filled the air as the creature screeched and thudded against the ground.  Expecting Sonic again, Itara prepared herself to face him before pushing herself back to her feet, turning around and looking up… only to meet an entirely different set of eyes.

“Y-you-?!”  Déjà vu. Shaking her head, she stared up at the half-robot, half-human looking man with the long, glowing blue sword in hand. It was the same one from the incident in the shopping center.  He had been studying the now halved creature, but looked over to her when she spoke.

He studied her silently, then questioned, “are you unharmed?”

Itara looked down.  Her knees were scuffed from diving out of the way, but the burns and wounds from before were gone.  Looking up again, confused, she nodded slowly, “I’m… f-fine…”

“Very well, you should get home, then.  This place has grown dangerous.”

“Who… are you?”  He looked down at her again, the glowing blue sword retreating back into its handle as he turned to face her.  “I don’t… recognize your design, is all.”

“My design?”  It was his turn to raise a curious eyebrow, though it was a movement lost to his helmet.

“I mean,” Itara frowned, unsure how to ask without giving too much away, “you aren’t a creation of Robotnik, are you?”

“No.  I was-”

“Itara!”  Both Itara and the humanoid robot looked towards the alleyway entrance, Itara nearly jumping out of her skin, as RK appeared, eyeing the other bot cautiously. There was a short silence before he continued, “I told you not to come out here, what are you doing?”  He glanced towards the halved creature, looking between the two, studying the alleyway, before resting his sights on the tiny hedgehog again.  He could guess what happened to a degree, but he would ask later, once they were home, “come on, it’s getting late.”

Itara frowned, looking between the two bots, curious about ponytail, but edged towards RK.  She gave one final glance back at the other bot with uncertainty, “th-thank you for… saving me.  What’s your name?”

He remained silent, studying the two, before looking away, “My name is Zero.  You should be more cautious in the future.”  With that, he continued down the alleyway while RK pulled Itara up onto his back.  Itara watched after him until RK left the alleyway and he was out of her sight, sighing afterwards and leaning against the big, fluffy robot.

“So what happened?”

“I’ll explain when we get home,” she sighed, closing her eyes, wrapping her arms tighter around his neck, “but I think I might have accessed a timeline.  I don’t know if I just saw an alternate possibility, or I actively went between the two.  But I saw two different outcomes.”

RK looked over his shoulder towards her, turning back after a moment, “In any case, answer your phone when I call you.  Just because you aren’t actually a child doesn’t mean you can’t get hurt, as you just saw.  Even when you had your powers you weren’t exactly untouchable.”

Itara sighed loudly and dramatically, “fine, fine. But don’t think I’m done looking into what’s happening!”

“Of course you aren’t.”  Itara nodded with finality and the rest of the trip home was relatively silent.  Once they were out of the city limits, RK ran the rest of the way and once Itara was changed and warmed up—after a short bout with Metal Sonic regarding her need to be chased after—she explained the events of the day.  She started with all the annoyances during school, ensuring her hatred of the entire situation was known, and then continued on to her trip to the city. She conveniently left out getting lost, though.

When she explained about the alternate situation Metal Sonic took sudden interest in the conversation and pressed for more information regarding her unusable powers.  Kipper, for once, remained silent and in doll mode throughout the evening.

#Disrepair House #Itara #Zero #Metal Knuckles #RK #Sonic #Metal Sonic #Iblis Biter #Solaris #Chapter 9 #Arc Two #Aftermath #Robo-knux #sonic the hedgehog #mega man #alternate timelines #parallel worlds #fanfic #fanfiction #sonic fanfic #askblog #team as family #slice-of-life #comedy #drama