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labyfic2021-01-18 05:18 am
jalenstrix) wrote in labyfic2021-01-18 05:18 am
Entry tags:
Challenge #39: Turnabout
Title: Turnabout
Description:
Department Chair Sarah Williams considers leveraging a picture of Jareth’s unusual attire choice for departmental purposes, and generally enjoys a bit of payback. Written for a challenge involving a particular picture of a rather wholesome-looking David Bowie.
This is part of the larger "It's Academic" series at FFnet.
Word count: 823
~~~
I held the picture up to the sunlight and grinned. “How...wholesome of you. Even the hair. Very...sunlit wheat in a field.”
Jareth’s eyes narrowed. “You will burn that image.”
“I will do no such thing. It expresses a bright and cheery mien, and I will gladly add it to the departmental infographic on acceptable attire.”
His features compressed into an expression of martyrdom. “Why would you do such a thing?”
“Because I can?”
“Your cruelty is boundless.”
I shrugged. “You’re the one who got himself stuck in these particular terms of agreement. Blame the fates you managed to royally piss off.”
He pressed his fingers to his forehead and shut his eyes. “I do. Every day. Destroy that picture, if you please.”
“I don’t please. You’re a member of the department I chair -- my very own graduate student in point of fact -- with all that entails for chain of command. As you were so fond of telling me once upon a time: suck it up, buttercup.”
“I said no such thing.”
“Maybe not those exact words, but the sentiment was identical.”
“Never.”
I peered over my glasses at him in my best Librarian Stare of Doom. “Need I remind you of the Fae Solstice celebration two winters ago at that goddawful pit of vipers you call a council? What was it you told me, ‘Stop whinging’? And what about that horrible pre-event for the council’s mid-summer summit last year? Who thinks jumping off a damned cliff and shapeshifting is a fun icebreaker? But I believe your response to me when I noted this was ‘Buck up’? And need I remind you--”
He held up a weary hand. “You have your governing bodies, and I have...had mine. Accommodations must be made.”
“Precisely. And I govern this departmental body that you are now in. Accommodate. It’s not like I’m asking you to wear this white and tan sweater with those adorable snowflake things on it and the penguin scarf to the department holiday party.” I paused. “Actually-“
“No. Absolutely not.”
“It would demonstrate exactly the cheery mode we’re aiming for.”
“No.” He crossed his arms fitfully and slouched into the office chair. “You have no power over me in this domain.”
“I could direct my discretionary funding somewhere else besides your project.” I tapped my chin thoughtfully. “How would you pay your experimental participants then? Such a pity.”
He glowered. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”
“I think I’m enjoying this just the right amount. I owe you. You’ve got years of making me miserable in the name of ‘education’ to make up for.”
His lips twitched in a suppressed smile. “You learned much under my tutelage.”
“Just as you’ll learn under mine. You’ve only begun to scratch the surface of literary computing, and we’ve got four and a half years left of this doctoral program for you to make your way through. And there just happen to be department holiday parties along the way.”
He closed his eyes briefly. “Is this a fate worse than the one I avoided? Only the Moirai know. And are presumably laughing themselves silly over it.”
“Oh, woe is you. I guarantee this party’s no worse than the Winter Fae ball that time.”
“Do you?”
“That party had ravening dream monsters with hooked tentacles that slithered from the shadows to consume your sanity if you didn’t pay close attention.”
“And what do you call that....provost person who always shows up and makes eyes at you?”
“A sucker who has funding to spare. But he’s a threat to no one’s sanity.” My lips flicked up in a smile. “Also, it’s beyond adorable that you’re jealous. Though not very becoming in a graduate student. You know very well that advisor-student relationships are verboten.”
He stared at me for a long moment. “Sometimes I truly, truly hate you.”
“And I’m quite sure I said those exact words to you on numerous occasions during your aforementioned tutelage of me.” I stood up and made ushering motions towards the door. “I believe our conversation now is done. See you at the department party.”
“I will not wear that sweater.”
“What’s that sound? Is it experimental participant funding fluttering away? Could be.”
“Cruel, Sarah. So very cruel.”
I smiled sweetly. “And generous. You wouldn’t believe the participant funding I got my hands on this quarter.”
His head drooped in defeat. “I’ll wear the sweater.”
“And the scarf.”
He glared up at me.
“And the scarf,” I repeated, my smile even wider.
His glare could have vaporized glaciers. “And the scarf.”
“Brilliant. And a smile.”
“You ask for the impossible!”
“Oh please. You’re lucky I’m not asking for that hair too. It’s so very, very wholesome.”
He threw up his hands. “Fine. But I expect full funding support.”
“It’s nice to expect things. We should have a talk sometime about expectation management.”
“Sarah!”
I waggled my fingers at him. “See you at the party.”
Description:
Department Chair Sarah Williams considers leveraging a picture of Jareth’s unusual attire choice for departmental purposes, and generally enjoys a bit of payback. Written for a challenge involving a particular picture of a rather wholesome-looking David Bowie.
This is part of the larger "It's Academic" series at FFnet.
Word count: 823
~~~
I held the picture up to the sunlight and grinned. “How...wholesome of you. Even the hair. Very...sunlit wheat in a field.”
Jareth’s eyes narrowed. “You will burn that image.”
“I will do no such thing. It expresses a bright and cheery mien, and I will gladly add it to the departmental infographic on acceptable attire.”
His features compressed into an expression of martyrdom. “Why would you do such a thing?”
“Because I can?”
“Your cruelty is boundless.”
I shrugged. “You’re the one who got himself stuck in these particular terms of agreement. Blame the fates you managed to royally piss off.”
He pressed his fingers to his forehead and shut his eyes. “I do. Every day. Destroy that picture, if you please.”
“I don’t please. You’re a member of the department I chair -- my very own graduate student in point of fact -- with all that entails for chain of command. As you were so fond of telling me once upon a time: suck it up, buttercup.”
“I said no such thing.”
“Maybe not those exact words, but the sentiment was identical.”
“Never.”
I peered over my glasses at him in my best Librarian Stare of Doom. “Need I remind you of the Fae Solstice celebration two winters ago at that goddawful pit of vipers you call a council? What was it you told me, ‘Stop whinging’? And what about that horrible pre-event for the council’s mid-summer summit last year? Who thinks jumping off a damned cliff and shapeshifting is a fun icebreaker? But I believe your response to me when I noted this was ‘Buck up’? And need I remind you--”
He held up a weary hand. “You have your governing bodies, and I have...had mine. Accommodations must be made.”
“Precisely. And I govern this departmental body that you are now in. Accommodate. It’s not like I’m asking you to wear this white and tan sweater with those adorable snowflake things on it and the penguin scarf to the department holiday party.” I paused. “Actually-“
“No. Absolutely not.”
“It would demonstrate exactly the cheery mode we’re aiming for.”
“No.” He crossed his arms fitfully and slouched into the office chair. “You have no power over me in this domain.”
“I could direct my discretionary funding somewhere else besides your project.” I tapped my chin thoughtfully. “How would you pay your experimental participants then? Such a pity.”
He glowered. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”
“I think I’m enjoying this just the right amount. I owe you. You’ve got years of making me miserable in the name of ‘education’ to make up for.”
His lips twitched in a suppressed smile. “You learned much under my tutelage.”
“Just as you’ll learn under mine. You’ve only begun to scratch the surface of literary computing, and we’ve got four and a half years left of this doctoral program for you to make your way through. And there just happen to be department holiday parties along the way.”
He closed his eyes briefly. “Is this a fate worse than the one I avoided? Only the Moirai know. And are presumably laughing themselves silly over it.”
“Oh, woe is you. I guarantee this party’s no worse than the Winter Fae ball that time.”
“Do you?”
“That party had ravening dream monsters with hooked tentacles that slithered from the shadows to consume your sanity if you didn’t pay close attention.”
“And what do you call that....provost person who always shows up and makes eyes at you?”
“A sucker who has funding to spare. But he’s a threat to no one’s sanity.” My lips flicked up in a smile. “Also, it’s beyond adorable that you’re jealous. Though not very becoming in a graduate student. You know very well that advisor-student relationships are verboten.”
He stared at me for a long moment. “Sometimes I truly, truly hate you.”
“And I’m quite sure I said those exact words to you on numerous occasions during your aforementioned tutelage of me.” I stood up and made ushering motions towards the door. “I believe our conversation now is done. See you at the department party.”
“I will not wear that sweater.”
“What’s that sound? Is it experimental participant funding fluttering away? Could be.”
“Cruel, Sarah. So very cruel.”
I smiled sweetly. “And generous. You wouldn’t believe the participant funding I got my hands on this quarter.”
His head drooped in defeat. “I’ll wear the sweater.”
“And the scarf.”
He glared up at me.
“And the scarf,” I repeated, my smile even wider.
His glare could have vaporized glaciers. “And the scarf.”
“Brilliant. And a smile.”
“You ask for the impossible!”
“Oh please. You’re lucky I’m not asking for that hair too. It’s so very, very wholesome.”
He threw up his hands. “Fine. But I expect full funding support.”
“It’s nice to expect things. We should have a talk sometime about expectation management.”
“Sarah!”
I waggled my fingers at him. “See you at the party.”