I want to make a fic of how one of my ocs ( @karamel-books) met their partner, but unfortunately the answer is that Teatime definitely stalked them (he just…would. It’s in character for him to be stalker bf) and Kara was just enough of a freak to stick around for his good parts.
I might write it tho. I’m just not sure if it’d be any fun to read someone go “oh no I’m being stalked!” To “you know…I can’t fix him…but I can tolerate it because he gets better.”
He’s entirely too young for you – but you’re just tipsy enough not to mind the seven years that separate you, and Jeongguk, well, he never has.
You’ve been on so many dates it's kind of absurd. You can’t recall a single suitor ever taking this long to kiss you, but that is, you realize, just how Jeongguk is. Admittedly, it’s kind of nice taking things slow, or maybe you’re just a masochist.
You slurp ramen and wrestle chopsticks over pieces of meat in between shots of soju. His eyes glitter with mischief and you wonder how it’s possible for you to like him this much already. If Hyejin could see you she would tease you mercilessly, remind you of who you had to thank for it all.
Jeongguk holds your hand in his pocket when he ushers you out of the restaurant and the two of you sway down the street to a nearby bar. He submits song requests to the bar staff and the two of you play pool; Jeongguk significantly better than you.
It’s easy enough to tell when his songs come on because he sings along to all of them and it’s completely unfair that he can sound so good, and still play so well, even though he was such a lightweight the first time you drank together.
You call him out on it and Jeongguk smiles charmingly across the pool table, lining up his winning shot. “My friends have all been giving me a hard time,” he confesses. “They all say they’d die of embarrassment if they were dating someone who could drink better than them. So we’ve been practising.” He leaves out the part where Seokjin commented, “Do you want her being the one holding back your hair?”
Dismissing the subject Jeongguk levels you a playful look and announces, “If I get this shot you have to grant me a wish.”
You’re inclined to agree regardless, but you tell him, “We’ll see,” with all the faux seriousness of someone who’s more dutch courage than genuine.
Of course he does, as smooth as anything, as obnoxiously cool as always. You lower your brows, exasperatedly ask through pouted lips, “What do you want then?” as he saunters around the table towards you in approach. Jeongguk clutches at his chest, overwhelmed by the sudden cute attack and staggering his steps a little theatrically. It does make you smile, just a little bit.
Jeongguk stops short of your toes touching, crouches down to speak in a dangerously low tone and very sweetly asks, “Can I kiss you please?”
Ok, it’s hot and muggy, which tends to pair horribly with me. But Higuchi and Gin said that this is really nice weather and I tend to trust their judgment.
My name is Ryunosuke Akutagawa. I work for the Port Detective Agency, a job that most days yields excitement and a feeling of…knowing you’ve done something right. Of knowing that you’re helping someone. Knowing that, even when you don’t succeed, you’re at least lighting a spark so that others can be pushed to turn towards the light, pursue a future that brings them joy, find a destiny worth striving for…
And some days leaves you standing outside a storage unit in an overcoat in eighty degree heat. I think this should count as a safety hazard.
I’m keeping watch over this unit because my–our–client got robbed last week while she was on vacation, and she’s scared of it happening again.
“Akutagawa? You ok?” Probably not. I did just forget that I was on a phone call at all. But Higuchi is a chronic worrier, so I just sigh and knock my voice up an octave.
“I’m ok. It’s hot as hell though. Mainly I’m just bored.”
“Nothing happening on your end?”
“No. I told you, we’re either walking into a trap, or this case is nothing.” I slump against the metal wall of the storage unit then straighten, regretting it rather quickly. “At least the trap would’ve been interesting…” My mutter is quiet but, I realize a second too late, still able to be heard through the phone.
There’s a giggle and the sound of a pen on paper. Higuchi clears her throat and reads what Gin wrote down. “Ah yes, the dreadful horror of not being attacked.”
“You put me on speaker phone?!”
“We’re bored too.”
“You at least have each other to talk to!”
“Ryunosuke?” My head jerks up, tearing away from my phone. Very, very few people call me by that name, and only one person does while sounding quite so tired. The man who rounds the corner has red hair and wears a button up shirt and vest without an overcoat. He’s also not supposed to be here.
“Chuuya!” I don’t leave where I’m standing, but I rock back and forth on my feet a few times. “What are you doing here? I thought you were working on that murder with Kouyou.”
Chuuya’s steps came to a halt in front of me. He reached up and adjusted my coat. “I was. It was pretty simple though. Honestly Ryunosuke, I understand the coat is necessary, but you couldn’t have worn a tee shirt today?”
“I’m fine. Besides, I like the turtleneck.”
“You’re going to pass out.”
“Then I’ll have only myself to blame.” I straighten up. Chuuya stares at me. He’s worried. He’s worse than Higuchi in that regard.
It’s not that he’s wrong to worry, I think as he takes up a watch position at the other end of the hall, it’s just that he never stops. He’s on guard too much. Besides, this heat isn’t a serious issue. I’ve been drinking cold water and taking plenty of rests to make up for my choice in clothes.
I’ll have only myself to blame. It’s true. I’m an adult. I have full control over whether or not I go out into the heat in winter clothes. Chuuya won’t see it that way though. He never does.
I sigh and bring my phone back up to my ear. Higuchi is having some sort of argument with Gin. It’s difficult to understand, only being able to hear one side, but I can make out the gist.
“It’s not that I don’t want to hang out with you guys, I just see no appeal in it.”
Silence.
“That’s mean. You said you liked trivia night.”
I roll my eyes, lower my phone, then shoot a hissed whisper at Chuuya, “Gin’s trying to get Higuchi into opera again.”
He snorts and sighs, “She’s determined. Any luck?”
“Not so far.”
“I wish her the best of luck.”
“I’ll let her know,” I raise the phone again, “Hey Gin, Chuuya’s here.”
There’s enough time to hear Gin clap excitedly, and for Higuchi to get out “Really?! I thought he was in–” before the explosion. Chuuya notices before I do, I see his shoulders tense and his knees bend, getting ready to grab me.
I’m more proactive.
I send Rashomon out to grab Chuuya’s arm and he kicks off the floor, sending us flying down the hallway and out the second story window.
The second we lift from the ground the three storage units surrounding the one we were looking after explode.
It’s always broken windows and falling whenever he saves me.
Since the very start.
This time I’m prepared enough to have Rashomon catch us before we hit the ground.
Chuuya sticks the landing better than I do. He’s up on his feet after a few seconds. He’s staring at the building.
“I don’t think anyone was in there.” My voice is…shaky at best. Chuuya glances down at me lying on the ground.
“I told you your clothes were going to get you. You ok?” I take the hand he extends to me and roll my eyes.
“In my defense, I didn’t see bombs on the horizon. What do we do now?”
“This was for a woman who got robbed right?”
“Yeah, she said she was scared it would happen again.”
“Yeah well, now we let her know she was right to be.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Word Count: 3021
“Name?” The man at the gate barely glanced up when Dorothy stood in front of him, a dog in one arm, case in the other.
“Dorothy. Dorothy Gale.”
“Dorothy…Gale…how do you spell that?”
Dorothy blinked. “Um. D-O-R—”
“No, Gale.” The man finally looked up. Then he looked down to make eye contact with the girl. He stared at her with an expression suggesting that she was both wasting his time, and a massive idiot.
“Oh, sorry. It’s G-A-L-E. Like a…wind gale?” She offered the man a smile, her left hand tightening its grip on the suitcase handle, her right toying with the clasp on Toto’s leash.
“Mmhm.” The man sucked his teeth and flipped through his list of pages. “Dorothy Gale…Dorothy Gale…I don’t see you on here.”
Dorothy could feel the blood draining from her face, the ground splitting open beneath her, the panic sinking into her very bones, “I-wh-what? What do you mean?”
The attendant let out a heavy sigh and glanced at her, “Calm down. You might be on a different list.”
Dorothy would have sighed in relief, but she was becoming increasingly aware that three people behind her was a family with a three year old boy with the mother glaring daggers at her.
“Wait, are you a child?” The attendant was glaring at Dorothy as well now.
“Um. Yes.”
The man stared at the girl for thirty seconds before ripping a list out from under a box and scanning it, “Well, you could have told me that, couldn’t you? Now you’ve held up the whole line.”
“I-I didn’t know that I had t—”
“Hush. What’s your name again?”
“...Dorothy Ga—”
“Dorothy Gale, right. Ok, you’re in room 42 on the first floor.”
“42 on the first floor?”
The man rummaged through the box that was on top of the list of children's names. “Yeah, 142. Here, wear this.” He thrust a pin at Dorothy.
“Oh, um…why?”
The man took up what was apparently his favorite hobby, looking at Dorothy as though she was an idiot. “So that the staff attends to you first in a crisis. Because you’re a child.”
“Oh, I see–”
“You got a leash for that dog?”
Dorothy blinked. “I…yes? He’s wearing it.”
The attendant sucked his teeth again, while scribbling on the list of names, “Alright, girl, calm down. I was just saying. You know you need to be ok with people telling you things you don’t want to hear sometimes.”
Dorothy tried to think of a possible response to this that was kind and appreciative.
She found none.
The man looked up, “Miss Gale. There are other people waiting to get their rooms and keys. If you need anything else, you can ask someone on the boat, ok?”
“You…didn’t give me the keys to my room.”
The man rolled his eyes and, muttering something about spoiled children who can’t help themselves, fished the key to room 142 out of a fabric keyholder. “Here. Have a nice day.”
Dorothy walked away from the man, the entire interaction having left her feeling shaky and off kilter. A warm hand landed on her shoulder, “Don’t mind him dear. You didn’t do anything wrong there. He’s just embarrassed.”
The voice belonged to a tall woman with curly hair and a kind face. She smiled at Dorothy. “I’m Patricia. You’re Dorothy, right?”
Dorothy stepped back.
“Oh, no dear! I heard you telling Mathew your name. Four times.”
“Oh. That makes…sense. He had me repeat my name a lot. Is that normal?”
“No, Matthew is just a biii…jerk.”
Dorothy stared at the woman, Patricia stared back. “I’m fourteen, I know what swears are.”
“Yeah, and that didn’t start with the same letter, I really whiffed on that one. Where are your guardians?”
Dorothy shifted Toto in her arms, eyes beginning to bulge, “I’m on my own.”
“Do you…need help? You look—”
“Yesplease,thatwouldhelp!”
“I’ve got you. Is this your first time traveling on your own?” Patricia very carefully took Dorothy’s suitcase from her and set it down. After several gulps of air the girl nodded and shifted the grip on her dog.
“Yes. It’s my first time on a boat at all, actually.”
“Oh, that’s so much fun! I love boat trips, they’re my favorite way to travel.”
Dorothy clutched Toto closer to her chest and shrugged half-heartedly while avoiding the mother with the three year old running into her. “I suppose. You’ve been on a lot of boats then?”
Patricia nodded, “I have, yes. I travel with this company quite a lot, in fact I know most of the staff here. That’s how I know about Matthew.” Dorothy’s eyes widened and she took a half step forward, causing Patricia to laugh, “Most of the staff here are lovely people, and again, please don’t worry about Matthew. He’s awful most days and his wife just found out about his ‘trip to the barber.’”
“What’s wrong with his barber?”
“Only that he cuts his own hair.”
This caused the aforementioned man to turn around, glare at the two women, and shout, “Hey! If you’re done gossiping, can you two move it?! You’re clogging up the entryway!” Patricia sighed and jerked her head towards a corridor with a questioning look.
“Oh, no dear. Let me carry your bag, you were turning the same color as a plum earlier. Where’s your room, I’ll drop you off.”
“Oh, 42 on the first floor. Um, Patricia, can I ask you a question?”
Patricia steered Dorothy up a set of stairs, “Go nuts. What’s up?”
“You’ve been on boats before, do they shake often?”
Patricia stopped and looked into Dorothy’s eyes. “Well, rock, yes. On the water you’ll be expecting a bit of a sway, but shake? I don’t think there’s any reason a boat would shake unless we’re in a storm. Why, do you think you’ll get seasick?”
Dorothy shook her head and continued down the hall, hand skimming over the wall, nails scraping against the fuzzy texture of the wallpaper. “No, I’m just…nervous, I suppose.”
The heels of Patricia’s pumps hit the floor with a clip before the dunk sound of the rest of her shoe connecting with the floor as she follows Dorothy. After a minute she speaks up.
“The fear is reasonable. Not that anything will happen to you, but you’re doing something new, and you’re doing it on your own. If you weren’t afraid right now, you’d be, well, really impressive, actually.” Dorothy chuckled and Patricia continued, “The point is, nerves are reasonable when you feel like you’re alone. Humans function worse when they feel isolated. You’re doing something impressive Dorothy, and just doing it is, on its own, an act of bravery.” They stopped at room forty-two. “But, as brave as it is, it’ll feel less daunting if you’re not alone. At six o’clock tonight, the captain will be rounding us up for a pre-dinner announcement. It’s pretty basic, going over rules and such, if you want, you can sit with me and my friend.”
“Really?”
“Absoultly.”
“Thanks Patricia.” Dorothy smiled and took her case back from the taller woman, who nodded and shook her hand.
Inside the room, Dorothy flopped down on the bed. There is no other or better word for the way that the girl stood above the bed, arms outstretched, and let herself fall onto the mattress.
“Oof!” Dorothy slapped the bed, her voice muffled by the duvet, “Good quality.” She popped her head up and smiled at Toto, who was staring at her with a look that is the canine equivalent to exasperation. “Can you believe Auntie Em said the bed was going to suck?”
Toto continued to stare at Dorothy.
“Ok then, be that way. Oh, a brochure!”
Toto sighed as his owner army crawled her way up the bed to be able to reach the pamphlet sitting on the bedside table. “Let’s see what activities we can do while we’re here, shall we Toto?” The brunette flipped open the brochure and kicked her feet as she read aloud.
“Here at Lark Cruises, we offer our guests an open schedule and fine dining, or…no, that says fun dining. Hm. Let’s see…buffet is open all hours, breakfast from 6-10 AM, lunch from 10-6, and dinner from, oh…6-10. They really like those numbers together, don’t they.”
Dorothy sat up and swung her feet as Toto jumped up on the bed next to her. “Ah, here we go! Activities. Ok, so. We have…bingo…and scrabble and…mah jong and…shuffle board…oh! A life drawing class!” Dorothy gathered the spaniel in her arms and hugged him to her chest. “What do you think, Toto? Should we take an art class? Could be fun!” Dorothy picked up the brochure again to check the time of the class, “Maybe I have a hidden talen…it’s only for sixteen and up. Of course.” Dorothy dumped both the brochure and the dog on the bed.
“The whole activities section is only full of boring adult stuff and the one interesting thing in the whole brochure is only for adults.” Dorothy stood up and stalked around the cabin room. “I have nothing to do for this whole boat trip except play shuffleboard or games that use tiles,” Dorothy snatched the pamphlet from the bed and held it up to the ceiling, as if expecting an apology from it, “Or bridge! Oh, yes! I can also play bridge! The national pastime of all American fourteen year olds!” Dorothy flopped back down on the bed with a huff and Toto, in the spirit of support, barked at the ceiling as well, though he didn’t know what the plaster was supposed to do about the activities in the game room.
Dorothy smiled, then remembered she was trying to be upset and nodded righteously. “Thank you Toto. Glad to see you agree.” When the dog looked at her, as if inquiring about what they’d do next, Dorothy laughed, for, at that moment, Toto looked so human. Toto had a penchant for looking more human than he ought to. He hadn’t always been this way, it was something he’d gained while the two had been in Oz. Dorothy suspected that being in a land full of magic and talking animals had changed Toto more than the spaniel had ever truly let on to the girl, because sometimes, like in that instant where Toto looked to Dorothy, with a look in his eyes of tired but loving support, he looked much more real than most dogs did. His eyes did anyway.
Thinking about Oz made Dorothy’s eyes tear up. She laughed a wet and shaky laugh and said, in a voice that she was proud to say, hardly quavered at all, “Well, that was a good rant, wasn’t it, Toto? I dare say Boq would be impressed with it.” The girl rubbed at her eyes, not that she was truly crying, but it was something to do and helped her feel a little more grounded in the cabin room. Her spaniel crawled into her lap and curled up, and the girl laughed a little more, pulling the dog into a hug.
“Oh, Toto. I don’t miss being in Oz, being so far away from Auntie Em and Uncle Henry, feeling so lost and confused. But I do miss my friends. I do so wish I could see them again.” And then the spaniel licked the girl’s face, and she laughed once more, before picking the brochure back up, and looking to see if there were any activities she’d missed.
Patricia was right. At six o’clock, the speaker system came to life, glitching and crackling, but saying with utmost importance that all passengers had to make their way down to the main deck.
Dorothy was still holding Toto in her arms, there were so many people rushing around, finding friends, finding family, refusing to listen to the staff and take a seat, that Dorothy was worried someone might accidentally step on Toto’s tail.
“Dorothy! Over here!” Dorothy turned and saw Patricia sitting at a table, almost alone except for a young man with black hair sitting next to her playing solitaire. When Dorothy walked up to the table, he held a hand out without looking up from his cards. Patricia scoffed and hit him upside the head. “Daniel!”
“Patty, give me a half second, I’m about to win this.” The boy brushed her hand away and snapped a card down in the hearts slot. “Boom! And that’s…not right actually, what?”
Patricia covered her face with her hand. “Dorothy, I’m so sorry. This is my twin brother, Daniel. He is eighteen, he’s just also an idiot.”
“I’d take offence to that if it weren’t tr–puppy! Patty, you didn’t tell me the girl you met had a dog!”
Dorothy laughed and sat down. “Would you like to pet him?”
“Desperately.”
Dorothy held the spaniel out over the table, “Be warned though, Toto is a very good judge of character. He is liable to scratch or bark if he doesn’t like you.”
“I will take those odds.” Daniel scooped Toto up in his arms and, while the dog didn’t seem thrilled about the situation, was neither scratched, nor barked at.
As the crowd of people began to file in and settle down, an older man in a navy jacket stepped up onto a podium. He had brown hair, but it was thinning at the top, and it was brown in a splotchy, uneven way, with tints of an orange-yellow that suggested he got the color, not by the nature of being born, but rather from a plastic bottle. The man cleared his throat and leaned into a microphone, tapping it a few times and saying, “Testing, testing.” All of which are the first instincts that pop into a person's head when they get their hands on a microphone.
“Hello everyone. I am Captain Ryan, I’ll be steering us for our two to four day journey from our starting point here to the destination at St. Louis. We will be moving from the Kaw over to the Missouri river, which will pick up a little bit in speed, so won’t that be a blast?” Dorothy was of the opinion that he had said this in a voice that implied that going faster in a boat that was only held aloft by the laws of physics, something that Dorothy knew from personal experience was much more fragiler than one might originally think, was a fun thing. When the people around her cheered and laughed, Dorothy realized her opinion was the one in the minority and, at that very moment, had the same thought process that many fourteen year olds have, that she was somehow much smarter than literally every adult surrounding her.
Unlike most fourteen year olds, this troubled Dorothy, but she had a tendency to think about others before herself. From the podium, the captain continued speaking in a voice that was somehow both dry but deeply passionate.
“Now, before we let you go to eat, there are a few things. First off, we have plenty of food, more than enough for everyone to have seconds, hell, for everyone to have fourths. So, noting this, there is no need for a repeat of what Carol did last trip, yes?” The captain directed this at a middle aged woman with blonde hair who whispered under her breath, they got what they had coming to them. The captain responded to this by ignoring it with a nervous laugh.
Dorothy leaned across the table to whisper to Patricia and Daniel, “What did she do?”
Daniel looked up from playing with Toto’s ears, a vicious gleam in his eyes, “Elbowed a group of sixty year old women. Said that they were hogging all the gnocchi.”
Dorothy clapped a hand over her mouth, “That’s horrible! Were they alright?”
Daniel snickered, “Keep our voice down. Yeah, they were fine.”
“Besides,” Patricia muttered out of the corner of her mouth, her eyes still on the captain, “She was telling the truth. They had been hogging all the gnocchi.”
Dorothy sat back and thought about this. By the time she’d tuned back into what the captain was saying, he only had two items left. “No hanging over the railings, I know we have some kids here with us, parents, it is up to you to make sure your kid doesn’t fall overboard, we will help them get back on the boat, but let’s try not to have that happen, shall we?”
“And finally, if we encounter an emergency, we have enough life boats to carry double this amount of people. But, we shouldn’t be faced with any reason to use them, it’s looking like it’ll be a wonderful and smooth trip. Alright, that’s all I have to say. Have at the buffet you animals.”
As people rushed out of their seats to grab food, Patricia leaned back in her chair and glanced at the buffet. Daniel passed Toto back to Dorothy and picked up his cards again. “What’s it looking like tonight, Pats?”
“Call me that again, and I kill you by sword. And it’s meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans.” Daniel rolled his eyes and made a gagging motion. “Hey man, you don’t have to like it. Just get me a plate.”
The man slapped the card down on the table indignantly, “Why me?”
“Because you’re the man. Also I don’t want to try to get food in this mess.”
“And I do?”
“Do it or I’m selling your books.”
Daniel grumbled and kicked a leg of the table as he stood up, leaving for the buffet. Patricia called after him, “Get a plate for Dorothy too, would ya!?”
Dorothy, who was about to get up and get her own plate, looked embarrassed, “No, he doesn–”
“Yeah he does. He owes me. And I don’t want you trying to take…Toto, right? Yeah, I don’t want you taking him into there. It’d cause a fit.”
Dorothy nodded and watched as Daniel dodged the blonde woman named Carol kicking him in the leg. She pulled Toto close and buried her face in his tawny fur.
End Notes: Matthew is a white, straight, cis man who is a dick to children and cheats on his wife. He is the real villain of this fic.
Also, I loved writing the scene where Dorothy gets mad at the ceiling. She's not mad for religious reasons, she just has genuinely nowhere else to direct her anger to.
Hope you have an amazing day/night/whenever you're reading this!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Alright y'all! It is done. Enjoy chapter one!
It wasn’t an ocean. It was a river. It would become…if not the ocean, then at least the sea, although Dorothy was quite unclear on what the difference between the two really were.
Dorothy Gale was standing at the pier, staring out at the water of the Kaw. She might be inclined to call it rushing, as Kansas didn’t have many rivers, and she never traveled far outside the state, but in reality the river was slow and calm, and the word ‘rushing’ was just what Dorothy used to describe all rivers.
Dorothy’s hands toyed with the wood grain of the railing, scraping at the varnish with a chewed fingernail. Boats. Rivers. The sea. Well, no. The one solace in this journey ahead of her was that the boat wouldn’t be following the river out to sea, merely taking the riders to St. Louis and then dropping them off. A quick journey, lasting them only a few days. But still, a few days on a boat, where anything could happen.
Dorothy had begged, she had pleaded, she had implored her aunt and uncle to let her take a train to her cousin’s house, but they’d both refused, saying it would be good for Dorothy to ‘step out of her comfort zone.’ She said she felt that there was nothing wrong with staying in her comfort zone if it kept her from getting into a storm and being swept away.
She had lost this argument.
And thus, Dorothy Gale was, as I have said, standing at the pier, staring out at the water of the Kaw. This Dorothy Gale is fourteen years of age, and she has traded her iconic gingham pattern dress for one in solid colors, but still a pale blue. At her side was her dog, Toto, and behind her is her aunt and uncle.
“Really dear, don’t scratch at the wood.” Aunt Em sighed before reaching out to rub Dorothy’s shoulder. It wasn’t easy for the elder couple to send their girl away, even if it was only to be for a few months. But it would be good for Dorothy to get a taste of a city, of people other than them. Dorothy needed more children her age, they had decided, and so that was that. Dorothy was off to see her cousin Mason.
Dorothy spun on her heel, turning away from the railing and its terrible view of that terrible river, and embraced her aunt and uncle tight. She knew that this wouldn't be goodbye forever, but some part of her was truly terrified to leave them, as though a part of her, maybe her brain, maybe her heart, was convinced this would be the last time she ever saw them again. “I will miss you two so much.” Her voice was muffled as she shoved her face into Uncle Henry’s chest and held him. Her uncle chuckled and patted her head.
“My dear girl, you’ll see us in just three months.”
Aunt Em took Dorothy by the hand and stared into her niece’s eyes, her own beginning to water, “I know you’re scared, dear, but before you know it, you’ll be having so much fun, you won’t even remember to write us.”
Dorothy wailed, “Oh, Auntie Em! I would never forget to write to you both! I promise, the very second I arrive and am settled in, I shall write a letter telling you all about my journey. In fact, I shall write you a letter everyday, and send seven letters to you in the mail at the end of the week!”
Her aunt laughed at this, eyes crinkling, “Thank you, my dear, but please don’t hold yourself to that.”
“Now Em, if the girl wants to write us a letter a day–”
“Then she’ll be too busy writing to have any fun, Henry. Do not encourage our niece to become a hermit.”
Henry shrugged at this and leaned down to Dorothy, although the man was not exceedingly tall, and the girl had grown quite a bit since she had been ten, so the action was more performative than anything else. “You write us as often as you wish, my girl, but Aunt Em is right, remember, you’re supposed to have fun on this trip.”
“I know, Uncle Henry, I will.”
“Atta girl.” As her uncle straightened up and cracked his back theatrically, the gates that led to the boat opened, and a man began to let people on board. The brunette girl picked up her dog and case, and turned to her relatives with misty eyes. “Well, I guess this is goodbye.”
Em scoffed, although she was also crying, “Dorothy dear, don’t be ridiculous, it’s only a few months. We’ll see you very soon.”
“Right. Now give us a hug before you go.” Dorothy obliged her uncle’s wishes and hugged them once more before making her way to the ship.
“Well, Toto,” she whispered to the spaniel still held tightly in her arms, “it can’t be too bad. I’m probably scaring myself over nothing. After all, I survived Oz at ten years old. How bad could a boat ride really be?”
A/N: Hey! So. I have been, for over a year, in the process of writing a fanfic about born!Archivist Jon, called Child of the Fears. Child of the Fears is still up, but I recently went through it and realized it's...not very good. So! I'm going through and editing the chapters to be...better. Once I've gotten through all the editing, I'll update that chapters on the AO3 version. I'm also changing the name, because I've kind of always hated the name Child of the Fears. So, here we go!
Word count: 1486
Featured characters: Sasha, Rosie, Tim, Martin, Jon
“And here we go! A whole archive for you to rule over!” Sasha stared at the state of disarray the room was in, while Rosie talked some more about how excited she was that Sasha got the job because “There’s no one who’s a better fit for it then you Sasha!” Sasha nodded with a tired smile
“Thanks Rosie. Do you know when Tim and Martin are going to arrive?”
“Oh, all three of your assistants should be here in the next few minutes if you want to make proper introductions!”
“Thanks Ro- Three? I only asked for Tim and Martin.”
Rosie went very quiet, and when she spoke next it was formal, as her voice always was when it came to something Elias related, “Mr. Bouchard has assigned a third archival assistant to work with you. I hope that’s alright?” Sasha frowned. Rosie could be very…enthusiastic when she got going, but was well meaning and a good person. Sasha couldn’t see why Elias, who came off as a dorky yet stern boss to everyone else (at least to her, Tim, and Martin) scared Rosie so much. She never even used his first name.
“Of course it’s alright! This place is a mess. If Elias wants to throw more random saps in here to help clean it up then he’s welcome to. I just hope they can take Tim.” That was the right thing to say, Rosie laughed, and started to walk Sasha through the rest of the archives.
“Ok so you’ve got the basics, main room, break room, your office, I’ll show you that later-”
“What’s this?” Sasha paused at the doorway to a room with a cot in it. She took a step in, her fingers still lingering on the doorframe, observing the room. Behind her, Rosie shrugged.
“I don’t know, Gertrude used it sometimes when she didn’t want to go home.” Sasha’s face twisted in confusion at that. She turned back to Rosie.
“Was that often?”
“Eh, occasionally. I think it’s always been here, it’s not bad. Humidity controlled, pretty well sealed up.”
“Do we…need it to be sealed up, Rosie?” Rosie froze up again at the question, turning away from Sasha and walking towards the break room. Sasha followed her, mild concern growing slowly. “Rosie? I didn’t mean to offen-”
Rosie cut Sasha off, smiling slightly, “No, it’s fine. It’s just…a lot of stuff here is kinda beat up. Most of it’s kinda trash.”
“Ah, I see. Well, I’m sure it can’t be that bad.” Sasha stepped forward and slipped on a paper that had slipped out of one of the statement folders. Rosie winced and helped her up.
“Yeah…the organizational system is one of those things. Leaves a lot to be desired.”
“Hah…yeah.” Sasha looked around the archives again, trying to disconnect from the excitement of a new job, it was…rough. To put it nicely. There were papers sticking out from every drawer, one of the desks had loads of graffiti on it, and a chair had a leg that had been taped back together with duct tape. Sasha kicked a few more papers that had settled by her feet. “This is…something alright.”
“Digitize it.”
“Huh?”
“Mr. Bouchard said that Gertrude had started on it, or…one of her assistants had, I don’t know, but we’ve got a scanner that can put the statements into the computer system.” Rosie beckoned Sasha to follow her and headed to the head archivist office.
“Wow, yeah that’s a great idea. That’ll be,” Sasha started to follow Rosie and almost tripped again, “Great.”
The office was, as Sasha was quick to notice, the only part of the archives that seemed like it was neatly sorted. She sat down behind the desk and sighed, “It’s beautiful Rosie.”
Rosie shrugged, “I guess. I prefer…well, my desk. Oh, one thing. The scanner doesn’t work on all the statements, no idea why, it’s just…finicky like that.”
Sasha frowned, “Oh. That’s…not great. Do we have to hand type them into the system?”
“No, Mr. Bouchard said you can do an audio recording and put it in instead. It’s just…the recording device is a cassette tape recorder.”
Sasha laughed, “That’s not too bad. Thank you for telling me Rosie.”
Rosie left, but Sasha felt like she seemed odd. She could have sworn she heard the other woman mutter something about, “you haven’t seen that damn recorder yet.” But Sasha tried to wave it off. She ran her hands over the wood of her desk and marveled at it all. This was amazing, she didn’t think it would happen. But Tim was right, she was qualified for the role, and the most excited for it by far. Sasha leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.
Then reality came in a Tim and Martin shaped explosion.
“Hey Sasha?” Oh no. She knew that voice. Anyone who has ever worked with Martin knew that voice. It was a patented “I just fucked something up, and it could be anyting from spilling coffee on a poster to breaking something really expensive, please don’t be mad at me” voice. Sasha sat up with a jolt.
“Yeah Martin what's up?” She called back. If I don’t leave the office then it’s not real.If I don’t leave the office then it’s not real.If I don’t leave the office then it’s not real.If I don-
“Yeah hey so! Martin kinda sorta-”
“On accident!”
“Right on accident.”
“And I’m really sorry!”
“We both are.”
“Cause it’s your first day! I mean technically it’s all of our first day’s. At least in this job.”
Well she had hoped. She wasn’t mad at them. Quite the opposite really, this would probably turn out to be ridiculous, in fact normally Sasha would love a Tim and Martin shenanigan™ if it weren’t for the fact that she was mildly tense about the whole ‘nothing works around here' thing. And the fact that neither Gertrude nor Elias had given her any instructions for the job. Oh right, and there was a new person coming. Sasha stood up and walked to the door which Rosie had closed behind her, Martin and Tim were still beating around the bush outside of it, and seemed very sure she wasn’t going to open it any time soon, so when she did Martin jumped about a foot in the air.
“What’s wrong?” Tim stared at her for three seconds looking like he was having an internal debate. Then “Martin let a dog into the archives.”
“I’m sorry Tim, what?”
“It was an accident and I am so, so sorry Sasha.” Martin proceeded to shrink into his sweater more than seemed humanly possible. Sasha sighed.
When dealing with a Tim and Martin shenanigan™ it is imperative to remain calm. Freaking out in any way will only fuel Martin’s anxiety, and make Tim rush more to fix the problem. This is normally quite funny, but again, time crunch. The only way to get anything done is to take a deep breath and ask simple questions until they both calm down enough to remember that they’re both rational adults.
“How-no never mind, that doesn’t matter. What have you done to get the dog back?”
“We’ve been luring it with some turkey Tim packed in his lunch.”
“It hasn’t worked yet.” Tim looked at Sasha so apologetically she almost hugged him. She sighed and rolled her eyes at him.
“Ok” Sasha started, “First thing we’ll run out to-”
“Um ex-excuse me?” They turned around to see a man dressed in a semi-formal office outfit, with a green sweater vest, and a light blue tie with mist and—Sasha blinked—yes, those were eyes on it. The most notable thing about the man though, was the dog he was holding in his arms. It was fluffy.
“S-sorry does this dog belong to anyone here? I found it wandering the halls.”
Martin sighed with relief and ran over, “Yes sorry! He’s not supposed to be here! I’ll take him, so sorry.” The man blinked as Martin approached, as if he’d never seen a human being before, then smiled and held out the dog. “No worries, s-so he’s yo-your dog then?”
“Oh no, he just got in and I didn’t notice until he was running away. Thank you for grabbing him.”
The man smiled and said “Oh no problem! I was walking do-down here anyway.” He turned to Sasha and asked “Are you Sasha James? The Archivist?”
Sasha walked over and held out her hand “That I am! You…wouldn’t be the third assistant Elias assigned, would you?”
The man stared into Sasha’s eyes in a way that made her feel as though he was staring into the recesses of her soul, but he smiled as he shook Sasha’s hand. “That would be me. Jon Ma-er Sims. Jonathan Sims. Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise! Sorry it was such an…odd introduction, but uh welcome to the team!”
