So most stories take place when Events are Happening, and this means that no matter what kind of job the characters have, theyâre probably not too focused on them. Fanfics, on the other hand, often show the down time. Which means that the writer has to figure out what the hell these characters do in their jobs. Unless the characters have a job the author understands or knows well, the author is often at a loss for what to have the character doing.
So they sit them at a desk and give them paperwork. What is the paperwork for? Rarely specified. It is Paper Work for the characters Important Adult Job they have and they need to read or sign it or something. And thereâs always a line about how Character Hates Paperwork. Doesnât matter if Character is a Mafia Boss or a General or a Diplomat, here they are in an office trying to get out of Doing Paperwork.
Thereâs also a sense of, like, humor and mundanity that comes with it. Like the examples above, it always particularly stands out to me when a dangerous individual is griping about some paper they need to sign or something. The less you can picture Character doing paperwork, all the better to force it upon them. If Character is saddled with Paperwork, theyâre usually now concerned about the physical damages their motley crew causes, because damage = More Paperwork.
Anyway I just think itâs fun or funny, Sephiroth doing paper work and Sawada Tsunayoshi doing paper work and this just in, Tony Stark is doing paperwork. Sorry, Phoenix Wright canât play right now. Yeah, itâs paperwork.
Your Royalty or Nobles in your feudal society should be doing this constantly unless you want to show how they're losing the kingdom and about to be usurped or overthrown.
petitions, speech-writing, complaints, requests, assignations, disputes, judiciary forms, declarations that need signing off on, matters requiring the Royal seal, matters requiring a royal endorsement, pardons, judgments, invitations, rebuttals, census data, crop yields projected or actual, livestock records, water rights, Sumptuary laws, taxes taxes taxes...
even when the royalty look like they're just fucking off to have fun, they're doing Socially Mandated Fuck-Off and Have Fun Time
Tournaments? Gotta show you're manly and virile through sport, or the nobles will supplant you. Feasts? Gotta show you're wealthy through conspicuous consumption, or the nobles will supplant you. Patronizing the arts? Gotta show you're cultured and erudite, or the nobles will laugh at you behind your back and probably supplant you.
Lawyer here. Hereâs some more mundane/modern ones for you:
Invoices.
Intake sheets (information about new clients. The one for my firm is 13 pages and requires an hour long meeting. Then you have to do something with the info gathered)
Data entry for invoices and intake sheets.
Billing. (More involved than timesheets because youâre justifying to clients why youâre getting paid so much).
Form letters.
Taxes. Including 1099s for any contracted work.
Bank statements/accounting spreadsheets. Gotta track how expenses are trending.
Insurance documents.
General messages. Lots of office still use a paper system for missed calls and âimportantâ stuff because it just works better than emails and chats for some people.
Memos. Big enough office to have at least one attorney on payroll? Youâre getting memos about every legal question and concern and contract. Itâs how weâre trained to communicate in formal settings.
And if you want to get into modern military, the forms are numbered, and people will refer to them by either their actual name, or the number. (Have you filled out the 4187 for this? Yes, I filled out the personnel action form.)
If you want to add a rage level, thereâs the Regular Paperwork and then the special hell of Fuckup Paperwork.
Cause thereâs the invoice, and the follow up invoice and the we are about to have a problem follow-up invoice.
Thereâs the incident report and then the I swear I yelled at that worker about this donât be mad at me if they do it again second warning documentation
The requisition form and the it has been six months now get me the fucking thing or youâre gonna hear from Cindy escalations form.
For law firms, there's also the 'I am asking nicely for you to send me this legally mandated document' and then the follow-up 'My please was a social nicety, I am no longer asking, I am telling you to send me this document or explain to a court why you refuse to do so' which, depending on the type of law, can fill a significant amount of the day
-Case Review! This applies in some areas of law but it's basically checking through the case, seeing the status with your own stuff and the court's stuff, often writing a brief summary of your review, and making an action plan for next steps. Depending on the type of law and where the case is in progress this can take anywhere from 5 minutes ("ok nothing new in the court file, nothing's changed on our end, we're still waiting on the court") to, uh, several hours or days ("we're preparing for hearing and I need a full summary of every single thing including an index.")
-Indexing! This is where you take the evidence in a case and make a markup reference document with every citation you think you might need (e.g. a spreadsheet with like... Evidence ID 5F, page 32, [date] date of service, x-ray report, and then a description of what the x-ray report says). In large firms this can often be gruntwork and may be done by attorneys or paralegals. Most attorneys hate it, some of us love it, and some of us love it in moderation. For instance, I love indexing in moderation, and another unit will sometimes give me overflow work where it's like "ok these are 9,000 pages of medical records and we need to know which providers signed things on which dates" (for investigating billing fraud for, like, hey buddy you were at a conference that day how'd you see a patient???). Not all cases get indexed. As an example, if it's like a 5-page major fuck up record? No indexing needed. 9,000 pages? Indexing very much needed.
The British should put a time limit on the Monarchy.
Not like declaring a republic tomorrow, but deciding on a date in the future that ends the British Monarchy.
And there's a perfect date for it coming up!
October 14th, 2066.
A thousand years since the Battle of Hastings. A thousand years of this one specific bloodline ruling England.
Call time on the Monarchy after exactly one thousand years. Nice, and neat.
Even better: Charles isn't living 44 years. He'll be gone in about twenty. Now William? He's what, 40? Yeah, he can live another 44 years. His great grandmother was over a hundred, his granny was 96, William can make it to 84 barring accident or assassination.
So on October 14th 2066, William the Last steps down a thousand years after William the First won the crown.
Nice, neat, and fair. William gets the crown he's been waiting forty years for already, but ten-year-old George grows up without expectation of it.
July 23rd 2006. When the MV Cougar Ace transport ship capsized, an unidentified liquid leaked into the water. It formed a perfect Mandelbrotâs fractal pattern. In the following months, strange fish were reported in the area.
September 2006. Hurricane Julia approaches the US East Coast. Its strange fractal patterns and iridescence canât be explained by meteorologists. Organisms put in contact with it would begin developing odd symptoms in the following days.
As the fractal spreads through the atmosphere, its effects first start to be seen in nature, from plants to flocks of birds. The patterns would infect anything they touched, changing their growth and behaviour. The longer the contact, the stronger the effect.
December 2006. The first signs of fractal infection appear in humans. Strains of Rothia Dentocariosa, bacteria otherwise normal in the mouth microbiome, start growing in strange patterns. Their rapid spread would prove hard to control with antibiotics.
Fractal Syndrome is defined as a new entity by the WHO in 2007. First symptoms appear in growth areas such as the skin, nails and intestinal lining. It slowly spreads to the iris, teeth and eventually limbs. Transmission occurs through unknown mechanisms.
No treatment exists.
When the Fractal Syndrome eventually takes hold in the brain, strange behaviours start to occur. Though the changes are unconscious at first, they are visible when crowds spontaneously form into self-repeating patterns. Children start showing fractal conducts earlier than adults.
The Fractal Communion is established as a major religion in 2009, as their numbers explode in the millions. Congregants voluntarily expose themselves to Hausdorff-D2.5, the substance causing Fractal Syndrome. They see it as an elixir capable of miracles, such as curing blindness.
July 23, 2011. Hausdorff-D2.5, the Fractal, is released as a vapour over major world cities in synchronized attacks. As it rains down, it coats every surface.
The attacks are planned by a radical religious collective known as The Branch. Tens of millions fall to the Fractal.
As major population centres across the world are affected by the Fractal, authorities react by quarantining entire cities to avoid its spread.
The struggle escalates into riots and open conflict against government forces. The Fractal is used as a weapon by the besieged fighters.
After the majority of the human population falls victim to the Fractal, a semblance of peace returns.
Around the world, people single-mindedly organize to build fractal megastructures. This purposeless construction appears to be an advanced effect of the Fractal on the brain.
It is estimated that by 2016, every human on Earth has dangerous concentrations of Hausdorff-D2.5 in their blood.
The first to be affected by Fractal Syndrome have seen their symptoms worsen over the years, their initially minor changes gradually becoming life-threatening. Their bodies cannot sustain the level of growth.
Each body, one by one, twisted and failed. Humanity consumed itself under the weight of change it could not control, change too large to adapt. Their only legacy the fading scars they inflicted on each other.
Thereâs something about Locke believing everything Ben says because Ben makes him feel special and Ben lying to Locke precisely because he believes Locke is special that just completely undoes me man
I love how there's a thick, dark substance deep within the earth that was formed by the deaths of billions of lifeforms and has been trapped there for millions of years, that when harvested can weild such great powers that leaders are willing to start wars and slaughter millions just for it, however using said powers causes the very weather of our world to become corrupted, and yet we decide to name it after fucking olive juice.
An Apprenticeâs (Unofficial) Guide to House Garments
based on @energ00n 's apprentice AU! (i'm obsessed with the concept of apprentices making up garment rules)
Wc: 2.1k
The datapadâan older model with discolored spots, showing where servos touched its framingâis the first thing Orion Paxâs optics land on as he walks into his new room. Orion snatches the datapad and tilts his helm as he reads the title over again. A peek at the contents shows that it begins with Hey newbie followed by three exclamation glyphs (an overabundance of any glyph, if you asked Orion).
Orion glances up and catches his own gaze in a mirror hanging in front of him. Itâs strange, seeing two sheer fabric pieces delicately flowing over the hard metal of his armsâheâs hesitant to move his arm joints in fear of tearing it. That, as well as the jewelry occupying the space where his cog would be creates a vision thatâll take some getting used to.
He pries his optics away and down to the datapad again, dermas pinching as his processor whirrs. Prima explained to him how to care for his garment personally and what if, since the datapad looks old, the data was outdated? No, safer to follow Primaâs instructions and not confuse himself.
Orion places the datapad to the side and sets off to explore his new home.
~
Hello newbie!!!
Congratulations to you and your new position! Thereâs so much you need to know before you get started. If you wanna make friends, then youâll wanna keep reading, little mech!
Itâs most important that you know about your House garment. No, no, not how to wash oil stains out of it (though thatâs good to know!), Iâm talking about the meaning behind what you do with it.
Lucky for you, Iâve compiled a list for your easy reference! Learn them well, little mech!!
DO: Wear your House garment at all times! Iâve been told itâs respectful to the Primes. Also helpful so we can tell each other apart. Usually only an apprenticeâs special somebot sees them without it! Even then, maybe not.
~
D-16 has always been a stickler for the rules. Itâs structureâitâs security. He canât afford to slip up and never lets that resolve waver. So how exactly did he let pretty blue optics lure him into a cargo hold that supposedly has a passage leading into the (highly forbidden) archives? D-16 isnât sure.
âOrion Pax,â D-16 hisses, âyou idiot, thereâs no wayââ
Orion hushes him with a digit to his dermas and a wink. D-16 lowers his voice. âWhy did you drag me into this?â
Orion pries the cover away from the passage and lowers it to the ground, a soft clank echoing. âI need you to keep watch for me, âkay? Itâs a tight squeeze for me so you definitely wouldnât fit.â
D-16 frowns, a retort fully prepped in his processor, but then Orion unclips his garment and D-16âs vocalizer short circuits. For a horrifying and long nanoklik, only static emits from his voice box. âWhâPax, what are you doing?!â
âI told you.â Orion rolls his optics. âBarely enough room in there and I canât risk ripping my clothes up. Prima would offline me.â
He slips the sheer fabric over his helm and presents it to D-16 with splayed servos. Primus, help him. It takes D-16 exactly 1.46 kliks to reboot and shake his helm vehemently. âNo? IâŠyou want me toââ
âItâs just my garment,â Orion states, playful but also firm in a way that says I donât have time to argue. âIâm not asking you to do anything else. Keep it safe?â
Just my garment. If Orionâs antics donât get him expelled, his cluelessness would. However, heâs correct about one thing, and itâs that their time is running out.
D-16 half-snatches half-cradles the garment, careful not to let the ends touch the ground. With a deep intake D-16 says, âGo. Before they spot us.â
Orion grins, scrambling his way through the crawl space, leaving D-16 to listen for passing mechs. The fabric feels smooth between his digits.
~
DONâT: touch another apprenticeâs attire, especially(!) without their permission. A passing touch may be an accident but deliberately grabbing is almost like a kiss!!! Donât kiss or put your dermas on their clothing either. That hasâŠintimate implications I wonât discuss here.
~
Orion loves watching Megatronus Prime spar with D-16. The size difference between the two could be laughable, if it werenât for the ferocity that overtakes D-16âs faceplate and the corrections Megatronus throws out to him. Multiple times, Orionâs systems remind him to function as he watchesâhis friend is a vision under his Primeâs tutelage, all gritted denta, radiating optics, and arcing gauntlets.
Once satisfied, the looming Prime kneels before his apprentice and speaks lowly to him. Orionâs audials are unable to pick up whatâs said but the open and hungry way D-16 receives his feedback sates him. Megatronus returns to his full height, nods to release D-16 from his training for the day and Orion perks up at the gesture.
âD!â Orion calls. His friend pads over to whatâs becoming Orionâs usual spot, a barely-there smile on his dermas.
âYou been waiting long?â D-16 asks, setting his practice spear against the wall.
Orion shakes his helm. A white lieâheâs been there longer than he shouldâve but itâs not his fault that watching D-16 fight is so fascinating. âWhat were you learning today?â
D-16 dutifully launches into the intricacies of battle strategy and close-ranged combat. Orion props his helm up with his loose fist as he listensâmostly listens, at least. That task becomes difficult as the jargon grows thick and D-16âs broad servos capture Orionâs attention as they move in small motions.
An idea pops into his processor. âWhy donât you show me?â
A pause, then D-16 scoops up his practice spear, muttering, âItâll look stupid without an opponent.â
Orion hops over the half-wall thatâs been separating them and bounces over to stand in front of his friend. âIâm right here though.â
âNo,â D-16 said immediately. âItâs not safe.â
D-16 cycles his optics and Orionâs lopsided grin grows. âItâs not about that. You donât know what youâre doing and even if itâs not real, I could hurt you.â
âYou wonât,â Orion states, full of confidence.
âI could,â D-16 argues. âThen Prima would offline me for harming his one and only apprenticeââ
Orion begins to circle D-16, close enough to reach but far enough that he could evade it. âI know what youâre doing, Pax. Itâs not going to work.â
âIs it not?â Orion teases as he keeps in D-16âs blindspot, his friend calmly trying to catch sight of him again. He takes a chance while behind him, dashing out and giving the purple fabric of D-16âs House garment a good tug.
âPax,â D-16 chastises. Yes, itâs a sparkling-like move, Orion knows and does not quite care. He does it again, giggles erupting from his vocalizer as D-16âs calmness dissipates.
Orion manages to tug at D-16âs garment twice more before D-16âs arm snaps out, captures the joint above Orionâs servos, and crowds him against the nearby wall. The yellow of D-16âs optics blaze. Orion notices how close they are, how his friendâs weight is the only thing that keeps him upright, and he grins.
D-16 growls, âOrion.â And honestly? Orion isnât sure whatâs going through his processor when his reaction to hearing D-16 say his name is to bite down on the gathered cloth by one of the gauntlets heâd been admiring earlier.
D-16 drops him. His aft hits the ground with a rough clank and Orion cries out, âhey!â
But D-16 isnât listening. His optics are focused on the spot where Orionâs intake fluid darkened clothâs already deep purple. D-16âs expression is horrified.
âOh scrap, D.â Orion scrambles to his pedes. âIt should go away, right? Iâve neverâD! Where are you going? Wait!â
Before Orion can say another word, D-16 runsâno, sprintsâout of the practice arena, leaving Orion there alone wondering what heâd done wrong.
~
DO: keep your garment clean! Itâs polite and respectful, blah blah blah, you should know this. But! What you donât know is that leaving a mark on another apprenticeâs garment, accidental or not, is a serious offense! You tear it, thatâs a show of disrespect to the apprentice and their House and you might have to fight them. On the other servo, if you, say, put a small decal on the cloth, youâre effectively marking that mech as your own. Same goes for intake fluid, though that just tells everyone that you and that bot are...together in a different sense. Catch my drift?Â
~
âIâm sorry, D.â
âWhat for?â
âI donât know but I made you upset, didnât I?â
â...no. You didnât.â
~
DONâT: wear another Houseâs garment!!! Unless youâre ready to be conjunxes. And Iâm serious! Itâs saying your devotion to that mech is equivalent to your devotion to your Prime. Ask yourself, little mech. Would you swear undying fealty to them? Would you choose that mech over your Prime? No? Then donât do this.
(Okay, I might be a little overdramatic, but seriously, donât.)
~
What fascinates Orion is how different the textiles feel from one another. Heâs read about the arts and asked on multiple occasions to speak with the bot who made his House clothes because he must know more. Orion shifts the material of D-16âs garment between his digits, reveling in the weight and watching the fabric fold as he moves.
He drapes a length of it over his arm and turns to D-16, whoâs dozing in and out of a light rest cycle. âDo you think purple would suit me?â
âHm?â
Orion nudges his friend with the bend of his arm still wrapped in material. This time, D-16 rouses, even if only a little. âYour House garment, silly. How does it look?â
âFine,â D-16 says.
âJust fine?â Orion complains. âYouâre the meanest friend ever. You wonât even let me try?â
D-16 resettles his helm. âNot mean. âM honest.â
Orion shoves his shoulder plate, only serving to further tangle himself. âYour honesty is mean.â
âWould you prefer a more elaborate answer?â
âNot anymore,â Orion mutters. This time, he lets D-16 rest as he lays the garment over his lap and smoothes out the wrinkles heâs made.Â
~
Congrats!!! Now youâre fully equipped to take on the social terrain in the House of Primes!!
In case you didnât read all that, basically, keep to your own business and every other bot will keep to theirs. Youâre lucky you have me to help you out with this because I didn't have anyone explain it to me and I broke about every rule before an apprentice told me. I was so embarrassed!!! No need to thank me though, little mech, whoever you may be. Just have fun! Be responsible! Follow these rules!!! I promise, youâll have a better time if you do. Byeeee ;)
~
D-16 might cease to functionâif he hasnât already. On this particular solar cycle, Orion had dragged D-16 into another one of his schemes and deemed his quarters the meeting point. The door slid open, Orion welcomed him inside, and D-16âs optics landed on a datapad that made his spark drop.
That thing isnât supposed to existânot physically, anyway. How did it get here? How in Primusâ glory does Orion have it?!
âD?â Orion cuts through his panic.
âHave youâŠâ D-16 can barely force his vocaliser to say the words. âHave you read it?â
Orion raises an optical ridge. Confused but fond. âRead what?â
A digit points at the datapad, though D-16 didnât consciously give the command for it to do so. âThat.â
âOh that?â Orion ambles over to the offending object. âIt was here when I moved in. Weird right? Maybe Prima put it here in case I forgot what he told me?â
D-16âs joints creak with the effort it takes to stride over and pick up the datapad. âYou donât need it though, do you?â
Please say no, D-16âs processor screams.
Orion laughs, though his confusion melds into concern as well. âNo, I guess notâŠdid you need it? You can take it, if you do.â
And D-16 then and there wishes Orion Pax had chosen a better friend, one who he deserves. Except, D-16 is also selfish and cold in ways where Orion is warmâhe doesnât wish that, in actuality. (It feels kinder to say that he does. Orion deserves kind.)
âThanks,â D-16 says for lack of any explanation that wouldnât be a flat-out lie.
Then Orion smiles at him, as he always does, and pats him on the chest plate, right next to his empty cog slot, right on his garment. D-16 musters a quirk of his dermas and tucks the datapad away from Orionâs prying optics. Itâs hard to feel guilty about it, when Orion seems so content and his servos make his garment so warm.
~~~
A/N: tysm for reading! i'm sorry if i got any details wrong, i read all the comics over again to make sure i got it all correct but just in case i missed something! please check out the main comic if you haven't already. the worldbuilding, writing, and art style are all stunning!
In this exciting and spicy new Romantasy novel, a young orphan noblewoman warrior princess farmer's daughter must become a spy in the court of King Handsome of Europeland and seduce the young king while also winning a series of competition trials and maybe becoming an assassin rebel leader general. Oh and she gets a dragon.
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