#anyways we got the go ahead from another supervisor to just. do our own thing and make it work and if our manager bitches

[gardenhotspot]

work was so 😬

[respectable-username]

Because I'm obsessed with Hivemind Etho, here's another little story with them for the @hermitcraftheadcanons Hermitopia AU. As before, this is just a quick piece that's only been lightly edited because of the time constraints of this community AU.

This is also some setup for a potential future confrontation for somebody else to write.

---

The two Ethos stood at the door to the apartment, waiting for the hour to strike.

It was all they could do to not to brush the hastily cut and dyed hair away from one of their selves' forehead, or fight against the overly tight suit and tie, or scratch at the cheap surgical mask that sat in place of their regular cloth face covering, or the makeup that tried to conceal their prominent eye scar. The other self pulled their jacket closer, trying to extract enough comfort from it for the both of them.

The clock struck 7am. Etho knocked.

A few minutes later, the door was pulled open by a bleary-eyed Mumbo in a dressing gown.

"Hello– oh no what are you doing here please don't hurt me please don't hurt me."

The undisguised Etho pushed through the doorway as Mumbo backed away from the Unrestrained villain, now fully awake.

"Your ID card," said the Etho, entering the room.

"What?" said Mumbo.

"Your ConCorp ID pass," clarified the Etho, holding out their hand. "Give it to us. Now."

"Um, I don't think I'm supposed to do that," said Mumbo, desperately searching for something to grab.

The Etho's eyes bore into Mumbo, cold, unflinching, unwavering. One looked right at him while the other seemed to look right through him.

"Um, right, ok," said Mumbo. "Uh, can you pass me my bag? It's in there."

The disguised Etho entered the apartment and grabbed the briefcase sitting by the door, opening it and grabbing the pass inside, clipping it onto their own trousers. They closed the bag and held it beside them.

"Um, ok," said Mumbo. "I– is that all you wanted?"

"Your phone too," said the undisguised Etho.

"Please no!" Mumbo pleaded. "I can't lose that. What if there's an emergency and I need to call for help but I don't have my phone so the apartment burns down or if somebody gets hurt and I can't call an ambulance or–"

The Etho took a step forward. "Your phone," they repeated.

"Ok ok please don't hurt me," said Mumbo, retrieving his phone from his pocket and holding up both hands.

The Etho grabbed the phone and tossed it over their shoulder at their other self, who caught it flawlessly.

The Etho looked between the cowering Mumbo before them and their other, disguised self. About the same height. Hair roughly similar enough to pass. The ConCorp-issued suit didn't fit quite the same, and the face mask was an obvious difference, but it was close enough if nobody gave them a second glance.

And, having been observing Mumbo for the last few weeks, there didn't seem to be anybody who would give Mumbo a second glance.

The disguised Etho turned silently and left. The other Etho shut the front door and turned the lock, trapping them and Mumbo inside.

***

The disguised Etho walked up to the ConCorp entrance at 8:53am. This seemed to be the average time of Mumbo's arrivals. They walked towards the turnstiles and swiped Mumbo's pass.

"Everything alright?" asked a receptionist behind the main desk, presumably concerned by the face mask.

The Etho coughed. "I'll be fine," they croaked.

"Sweetie, if you're feeling unwell, you should be at home, resting," she said.

"Got stuff to do," croaked Etho, walking forward into the elevator before any further questions could be asked.

"Where's your office?" the Etho at Mumbo's apartment asked, sitting in a corner of Mumbo's couch from which they could see the whole room.

"Um, at ConCorp HQ," said Mumbo, fiddling with a teabag.

Etho sighed. "Precise directions from the elevator please," they said.

"Oh, uh, straight ahead down the corridor, last door on the left," Mumbo said.

The "Mumbo" Etho followed the described path and scanned their pass to enter the room.

The kettle clicked. Mumbo poured the boiling water out into the mug. The Etho in the apartment tensed, ready to spring away at any sign the hot contents would be flung towards them.

"And what's your password?" asked Etho.

"For what?" said Mumbo.

"Your ConCorp laptop," said Etho, the faintest wisps of exasperation creeping into their otherwise carefully controlled voice.

"I am so getting fired for this," sighed Mumbo.

"Better your job than your life," Etho replied flippantly.

"Of course," said Mumbo hurriedly. "It's – oh gosh I can't believe I'm saying this aloud – it's BMX4lyfe95!"

The Etho at the office typed it in. Finally, the internal network was open to them.

They started working to set up a reverse proxy to tunnel out from behind the firewall. Another of their selves at home was already positioned to connect to the network tunnel as soon as it was opened.

Mumbo poured milk into his mug, throwing away the teabag and walking over to the lounge. The Etho already on a couch got ready to jump, but Mumbo just sat down across from them and took a sip.

Mumbo stared down into his mug. "You're a hacker, right?" he asked, his eyes not looking up.

"One of my talents," said Etho cautiously.

"Since they're gonna fire me anyway, can I ask a small favour?" said Mumbo, still acting like his tea was the most fascinating thing in the room.

"Depends," said Etho.

Mumbo drummed his fingers against the mug. "I have this friend, Iskall," Mumbo said. "He's one of the office workers at ConCorp. I made his cybernetics after he got injured. But they keep breaking in weird ways and I don't know why. His explanations don't make sense! The metal I use doesn't melt like that from accidentally touching a stove. They shouldn't buckle like that from tripping into a wall. They shouldn't shatter from falling down a flight of stairs. I'm... I'm just worried for him. Is he in danger? What isn't he telling me?"

The Etho on the couch was quiet for a few seconds. "You only have partial access to the VEX files," they said. "There's a lot I can't find here."

"It's so creepy how you do that," said Mumbo.

Etho ignored him.

The Etho at home let out a quiet cheer as they managed to connect through the tunnel into the ConCorp network. They started browsing, collecting, and saving as much information as possible.

The Etho in the office switched their focus to finding some sort of privilege escalation vulnerability that would let them access the more secure files.

"Erm, I probably should have asked before," said Mumbo. "Would you like some tea? Some breakfast?"

"I'm fine," said the Etho in the apartment.

"So, uh, do you have any hobbies?" asked Mumbo.

"Please don't small talk," said Etho. "I'm busy."

"Oh, ok," said Mumbo. "Can I go grab a book or something then? Since, y'know, I don't have my phone or laptop or anything."

Etho nodded. "But if you call for help," they said, "I will know about it and I will make you regret it."

"Of course," said Mumbo.

The Etho in the office kept prodding at the ConCorp intranet. What they needed were the credentials of a superior, maybe even the Director himself. Hmm, it seemed from this directory structure that the Director was Mumbo's direct supervisor. It would only take a few hours to set up some sort of spear phishing attempt that would let them pivot directly onto the Director's computer. As long as they didn't get caught first, of course.

Etho opened Mumbo's calendar and declined all meetings that day that wouldn't look suspicious to avoid. There weren't many meetings to sort through.

"How often do you get visitors to your office?" Etho asked Mumbo.

"Iskall usually comes for lunch when he's not swamped by a project," said Mumbo. "Otherwise, nobody else just pops 'round usually."

"How about your boss?" asked Etho.

"He's busy," Mumbo said. "I have to go to him if we ever talk."

The Etho in the apartment nodded, settling back to focus on what their other selves were doing.

***

Hi Cub, Etho typed. Can you review this interface I made? It should let us remotely view what's happening with our heroes through their cybernetics. With some extra work, we could get actual video from their perspective to send to the media!

Etho sent the message, then sent the file with their exploit. The exploit was covered by a very quickly and poorly thrown together interface which returned the live location of a GPS receiver they had found in the lab.

They left it a few minutes, stretching back in Mumbo's desk chair as they waited for a reply.

Finally, one came through.

Hey Mumbo. Great prototype! We'll probably need to pass off development to the actual software engineering team, but this is a great initiative. I'm proud to have a thinker like you on our team!

Etho allowed themselves a smile as they checked to see if their exploit had worked. There it was, a tunnel open on the expected port right into the Director's machine. Jackpot.

The Etho at home pivoted through the new tunnel and started scraping as much information as they could.

"Your friend is a mercenary," the Etho in Mumbo's apartment said, making Mumbo jump at the sudden sound.

"Wait what?" said Mumbo.

"Iskall is a mercenary and assassin for ConCorp, working for them in exchange for ConCorp saving his life," clarified Etho.

"Iskall, a mercenary?" Mumbo said. "No no no no no. That can't be!"

"That's what his file says," Etho said with a shrug. "Either way, I've got what I need. I've called you in sick for the next week, and I'm keeping your pass to enforce that. Your phone will be returned, but I've programmed it to inform me if you let any part of today slip. I hope you understand."

"Uh, thank you, I guess," said Mumbo.

"I'll be here with your belongings in half an hour," Etho continued, standing up.

"What do– oh, right," said Mumbo.

"And don't do anything stupid," said Etho, opening the door to leave. "As thanks for your assistance, the nHo will try to keep you safe from any upcoming confrontation. But if you break this trust, that guarantee will not hold."

"I understand," said Mumbo, gulping at the idea of having to further betray his company, his friends.

The Etho left his apartment.

[mintaka14]

Coryphée

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

Chapter Six – Coda

“I heard,” one of the seamstresses said from her workstation, “that the results of the concours are going out today.”

And of course, the backstage staff knew before the dancers themselves had even received the letters of offer or rejection. Marinette shifted on her stool and frowned down in concentration at the old costume she was unpicking, one laborious stitch at a time.

The names of the new premiére danseuses and premier danseurs were tossed around, and Marinette only paid them half a mind, until someone asked, “What about the new sujet? Who got that one?”

“Oh, Mireille Caquet got the promotion,” someone else said, and Marinette put down the seam ripper in surprise.

“Not Lila Rossi?” she asked, and the girl across from her started laughing.

“Not in a month of Sundays,” Nicolette snorted. “That one’s never going to make it out of quadrilles, I can tell you that, and bad luck to her. Always so rude, and I don’t envy anyone who ever gets her for fittings.” She giggled. “We always make sure Mlle Rossi gets the last pick of the gowns and wigs, the one that’s always just a little bit too tight or a colour she doesn’t like much.”

Marinette couldn’t help the gasp of laughter that escaped her.

“Did you know her?” someone else asked Marinette.

“Of course she did,” Nicolette said. “Marinette was in the corps until she grew a brain and got out.”

Marinette just smiled and picked up the seam ripper again.

“Besides, I heard there’ve been discussions going on,” Pascal said from his workstation as he concentrated on the placement of another sequin. “Lila Rossi pissed off the wrong person, and the Director of the Conservatory himself got involved. They’re not going to renew her season’s contract when it finishes soon.”

That provoked an uproar in the atelier, and Marinette’s seam picker fell from her fingers to bounce on the floor.

“But… she was a permanent contract! She said she was permanent.”

Pascal was shaking his head gleefully. “No, no, chérie. She was a seasonal.”

There was a knock on the atelier door, and a ripple of excited murmuring ran through the room.

“Marinette,” one of the seamstresses said in a singsong voice. “Your boyfriend’s here.”

And Luka was leaning against the doorframe, his gorgeous blue eyes only on her.

“Ready to go, melody?” he asked, and Eloise Marchand waved her off with an indulgent smile.

“There’s nothing that can’t be done tomorrow,” the costume director told her. “We’ll all be packing up soon anyway. You go and enjoy your evening.”

Marinette ignored the giggles and sighs as she carefully put away the costume she’d been working on and gathered up her things. It was all good-humoured, and Nicolette whispered, “You’re so lucky” as Marinette passed her.

“I know,” she whispered back, and then Luka took her hand, his smile lighting up, and she followed him out the door. All the way down from the sixth floor they talked about inconsequential things, and how his search for an apartment was going.

“I mean, I love the Liberty,” Luka sighed, “and I’m going to miss Ma and Jules, but I’m really not going to miss Jules banging on the wall or making comments any time you come round.”

Juleka had been having way too much fun with playing spoilsport lately. Marinette felt the embarrassed fire rising in her face, and changed the subject. She eyed Luka thoughtfully, and brought up a suspicion that she’d had since Pascal had shared his piece of gossip.

“I heard a rumour today that Lila’s seasonal contract with the company is getting cancelled, and that the Director of the Conservatory of Music was involved. You wouldn’t have had anything to do with that, would you?” she asked, and he cast his eyes up.

“I may have had a conversation with my mother’s ex-boyfriend who just happens to be the Director of the Conservatory,” he said with feigned innocence. “The subject of Lila may have come up.”

“Luka!” She shoved his arm gently, and then sighed. “I could almost feel sorry for her. She was never going to get ahead in the company, and I think she knew it.”

“She put glass in your shoes,” Luka said, and she shouldn’t have found that rumbling growl in his voice as sexy as she did. Distracted by that thought, it took her a moment to realise that he was watching her.

“Do you wish I hadn’t said anything?” he asked her, and she subjected that to some consideration.

“No, I think I’m glad you did. If she’s done things like that to me to get what she wants, she’ll do it again to someone else if she’s left unchecked,” Marinette said. They’d reached the entrance hall, and Luka held the door open for her. “That recording was only going to hold her back for so long.”

He took her hand again as they crossed the courtyard and passed under the huge and embellished stone archway, and steered her in the opposite direction when she started to turn towards the metro.

“How do you feel about dinner at Midi12 tonight?” She gave him a startled glance, and he shrugged self-consciously. “I finished my thesis today, and I feel like celebrating, and galette.”

Marinette stopped and flung her arms around him. “Luka! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I still have to edit a couple of things, and get my supervisor’s okay on it, but… it’ll be ready to hand to her when she gets back from Madrid in a few weeks. The research component’s all done.”

She glowed up at him. “We definitely need to celebrate.”

Palais Garnier loomed majestically behind them. The sky above the streets was still waiting for sunset, but the late afternoon air was starting to grow heavy and the golden light from the cafes and restaurants spilled over the grey slabs of concrete under their feet. It was starting to turn cooler, and the figures around them were hurrying a little now. Marinette leaned into Luka’s warmth, and he put an arm around her as they walked.

Marinette shot him a mischievous look. “You do know Papa does much better galette than Midi12?”

“Tom does better pastries than anyone,” Luka agreed, then his grin became a little wry. “I’d just kind of like you all to myself for a little while before we have to head home.”

“I like the sound of that.”

The umbrellas outside the Palais Garnier restaurant were furled behind the stone balustrade and hedge, but they could hear the distant clink of china and cutlery, and the soft hum of voices from the early patrons. Classical statues gazed down indifferently from their perches along the balustrade, and the huge iron streetlamps weren’t lit yet. They made dark, spiky silhouettes against the thick blue sky.

“So how did things go for you today?” Luka asked, running his thumb along the edge of her hand.

“Well, it wasn’t finished the thesis exciting, but Mme Marchand has me going through the costume archives right now, and I’ve been unpicking some of the old costumes to try and match fabrics. It’s fascinating, the way it was constructed. I’m learning so much, and so much of what I did when I was on stage makes a lot more sense now. She said she’ll take me to the fabric warehouses with her the next time she has to source something.” Luka grinned at the little skip of enthusiasm that she couldn’t suppress. “It’s going to be exhausting once my course gets underway, trying to juggle that and the residency program, but it’ll be worth it. I’ll get to work on the next season costumes – Adrien said his father’s sponsoring again, so they’re going to be stunning.”

Luka was watching her with a half-smile. “You saw Adrien?”

“I caught up with some of the company for lunch today, and Adrien was there.”

“How is he?”

Marinette giggled. “He’s started sneaking out to date the daughter of one of his father’s business associates, so he’s happy.”

“Sneaking out? Does his father disapprove or something?”

“I don’t think so,” Marinette said with a  shrug. “I think Adrien’s just developed a taste for sneaking around. He’s got a lot of years of rebellion to catch up on, apparently.”

Luka laughed. “You’re a bad influence, melody.”

“He’s heard a rumour that next season is going to be La Bayadère, and I love the costumes for that. The colours are just glorious, and I’m really looking forward to seeing what M. Agreste’s take on it is.”

“Any regrets that it won’t be you wearing those costumes?” he asked.

“Not really. No. I mean, I have the odd moment when I miss that feeling, but I’d much rather be making them than dancing in them.”

They turned away from the Palais Garnier in its opulent grandeur, an isolated island of magnificence, into the noisier streets where the rumble and honk of traffic was overlaid with voices and conversation and laughter. Buildings and shops crowded above Marinette and Luka as they strolled towards the crêperie, lost in their own world.

“So, no regrets?” he repeated quietly, and Marinette knew he was asking about more than just costumes. She couldn’t help laughing.

“I got away with the heist without going to prison, I got into a course that I’m loving for a career that I’m excited about, and Mme Marchand got me into a residency that most people in theatre design would kill for, even though I haven’t got my qualifications yet.”

She lifted her hand and brushed her fingertips along the line of his jaw, loving the feel of his breath on her palm as he leaned into her touch.

“And I get to go home with the man I adore,” she said softly. “No regrets. Not ever.”

There was something in the way that Luka was looking at her that brought a blush to her cheeks and left her heart stumbling in her chest.

“What are you thinking?”

He ducked his head until the blue tips of his hair shadowed his eyes, but she could see the soft smile curling the corners of his mouth.

“I can’t tell you, because you didn’t want me to get too far ahead of myself. Ask me again when you’ve finished your degree.”

Her eyes widened.

“Oh,” she said, a little breathlessly. “Oh. Okay.”

They walked a little further. Marinette glanced up at him.

“That’s a whole three years away,” she said pensively, and his eyes were back on her now. “Would you tell me if I asked when I’ve completed my residency?”

There was that quality of stillness in the way he was holding himself, as if he didn’t quite dare to believe what he thought he was hearing. “That’s... June. End of June.”

“Is that too soon?” she asked, and gave a faint squeak as Luka kissed her hard, and kissed her again, and again until they melted into softer kisses, heedless of the people passing by. Her hands came up to tangle in his hair, and his arms were around her, pulling her close while life moved on around them. Perhaps there were a few frowns, or a few indulgent smiles, thrown their way, but neither of them noticed.

“June, tomorrow, today, whenever you want,” he breathed when they finally came up for air, his voice a little husky. “I’m yours, melody.”

And Marinette pulled him down for another kiss, too happy to speak.

[sa-gt-tarrius]

Liars Ahead: Proceed with Caution

Warnings:

Foul language, needles, lots of injuries, character death. Tread carefully!

@cakercanart @secret-shifters

This fic is a bit gritty, moreso than what I usually write. If it’s too much for you to handle, or if it’s just not up your alley and you don’t really like the harsher elements, please feel free to let me know! I’d be happy to edit it down to make it less angsty.

***

No one knew exactly how many secrets MIRA Incorporated kept under wraps.

Their kind of work demanded secrecy, of course. When a company is involved in such groundbreaking fields, they are bound to draw prying eyes. MIRA specialized in relativistic aeronautics, atmospheric engineering, and long-term spacefaring. These terms were new-age babble that roughly translated to “living in outer space.” MIRA studied things that science fiction nerds could only dream of seeing. 

However, MIRA understood that profits would tank if any old Joe Schmoe could walk into their headquarters and leak their data. It was no surprise, then, that the employees of MIRA knew so little about their own company. Most workers had to stay on their assigned floor for their entire careers. Three whole levels of clearance were required to use the fancy upstairs bathrooms!

But there was one thing that was no secret to anyone: MIRA was planning something big. Something amazing. And whatever it was, it was going to happen soon. Excited whispers swept through every office and laboratory���the company had something in store that would rock the world. 

But to Henry Newground, this was all a bit underwhelming.

Henry had been tirelessly working at MIRA HQ for five years. He was an accountant for MIRA’s payroll, which meant he spent most of the day staring at lists of numbers and rummaging through file cabinets. When he was first hired, Henry naively believed that he could climb the corporate ladder and become an astronaut if he just worked hard enough. But alas, it was not to be—even after long years of no sick days and lots of overtime, Henry was still a simple accountant. He fought tooth and nail for a goddamn raise, so it was no wonder that his dream job was a mere fantasy. 

At least, that’s what he thought. But then a letter appeared on his desk one morning. 

Mr. Henry Newground,

We at MIRA have accepted your application to join our spacefaring and research apprenticeship program. Enclosed in this letter is a Level 10 Clearance Card. You will need it to access the upper office on the 50th floor, where more details will be provided. Please come to the office as soon as your shift ends. 

Kind regards, 

Elliot Rose 

Chief Executive Officer of M.I.R.A. Incorporated 

At first, Henry thought this was just a joke. His boss Kerri didn’t mention the letter all day, so she must’ve not known about it. (Either that or she had been in on it the whole time. She was a well-known jokester, after all.) And none of Henry’s coworkers spared him a second glance as he quietly left at five o’clock to head upstairs. 

The security guard at the elevator tried to turn Henry away, which seemed to confirm his just-a-prank theory. But as Henry fumbled over a frantic apology, trying to explain that he must have been set up by his coworkers, the security guard spotted a shiny blue rectangle dangling from Henry’s neck: a Level 10 Clearance Card. The guard opened the elevator door without a word, ushering the confused man inside and pressing the button for the fiftieth floor. 

“Ms. Rose doesn’t usually let people into her office,” the guard murmured as the elevator ascended ominously. “You must be helping with that big project they’re talking about. All the nerds upstairs won’t shut up about it.”

“Sh–she said she’d give me details when I got to her office.” Henry spun to face the guard, his face scrunched up anxiously. “Do I look okay? I didn’t have time to put on a suit…”

“You look fine. Stand up straight, we’re almost there.”

Given the air of mystery surrounding the upper floors of the building, Henry had no idea what to expect. But what he didn’t anticipate was to be met with a gust of wind. Henry shielded his eyes as a glare of sunlight began to burn his retinas. He was outdoors—on the roof of the building. It looked like a helicopter pad, only much, much larger. 

The security officer cleared his throat, gently ushering Henry out of the elevator. He jutted his finger towards the other side of the launch pad, towards a hallway that led back inside the building. “Just follow the path for a bit, and then take the left path at the fork. If you make it to the greenhouse, you went too far.” 

“Er, thanks…”

“And make sure you knock. Ms. Rose hates when people barge in.”

Henry nodded tentatively. He took a deep breath and marched towards the entryway, determined to get to the office before chickening out. 

The upper floors weren’t that unusual, Henry thought as he trotted along. He passed by a smelly locker room, a tiny medical bay, and a grimy computer room. Nothing about this place seemed particularly flashy or elite. Henry was starting to think he was on the wrong floor. 

Henry made the left turn, as the guard told him, and arrived in a small alcove with three rooms. One of the rooms was a lab of some sort, although it was barren and empty for the time being. The room ahead was filled with bushes and shrubs, with a large glass tube in the centre. And the last one was closed—a sign reading “please knock” hung nearly on the doorknob. 

Henry knocked three times and yanked his hand away like the wood was searing hot. 

Then the door creaked open. 

No one knew much about Ms. Elliot Rose. Even the managers and supervisors scarcely spoke of her at all. Henry honestly had no idea what to anticipate from her, aside from the cutthroat ruthlessness most company owners tended to have. But instead of a snide, fierce woman who could tear him apart with a glance, the woman standing in the open doorway was hardly remarkable. She was just barely taller than Henry, no older than thirty, and her red hair bristled out in all directions like she hadn’t brushed it in days. Her eyes were bagged and sunken, almost sickly, and her gaze was panicked and wild for a moment before locking onto Henry. 

She frowned. “Can I help you?”

“Ms. Rose?” Henry tried, unsure if he was truly talking to the CEO of the largest corporation on the planet. “My name is H–Henry Newground. I was told to come here at five, I–I have a clearance card if you need to see it—”

“Oh, right. Henry.” The woman suddenly straightened up, swinging the door open fully and gesturing for Henry to enter. “Thank you for coming. I’m sorry to inconvenience you like this.”

“It’s fine. I’m sorry for the delay.” Henry stepped inside, clearing his throat in a sorry attempt to appear composed. The room was nothing special—just a small office with four computer desks and a box-shaped radio. The woman took a seat at the messiest desk, leaning back into the chair. Henry claimed an empty chair from a desk nearby, bouncing his leg anxiously. “So, um… about this spacefaring program…”

Elliot Rose smiled, sinking into the chair cushion and leaning back. “I’ve looked over your application and was very happy with what I saw. I think you have potential, Henry.”

“Thank you,” Henry sputtered, baffled and giddy that the CEO was singing such high praises of him. “I’ve always loved learning about space, you know. That’s why I applied for this job. Even as a kid, I—”

“That’s great, Henry,” Elliot hummed, slipping out a gaping yawn before continuing. “Anyway, I just wanted to run a couple of things by you before we send you off. You got your master's degree in microbiology from Harvard, correct? I’ve also heard you’ve taken courses in astrophysics.”

Henry nodded eagerly. “That’s right. I’ve also taken extracurricular classes on geology, I was the leader of the chess club… a–and I sold drinks at the campus football games,” he finished lamely.

“You see, Henry,” Elliot drawled, twirling a pen with her fingers, “I have thirty-four other applicants with higher education than you do. Half of them have three or more doctorates. I don’t care much about your education.” She leaned forward, crossing her arms firmly over the desk. Something glinted behind her eyes—it was impossible to read. “But you have special skills, ones that could greatly benefit my crew.” Elliot leaned forward, crossing her arms firmly over the desk. “Our coordinators are getting ready to send supplies to Polus on a small dropship. The trip will last about two days. I want you on that ship before it takes off.”

“Y–you want—” Henry choked on his breath. “You want me to go to space?”

Elliot smirked. “Is that a problem?”

“I–I just— Y–you don’t— W–well—“

“Use your words, Henry.”

“I’m just…” Henry sputtered, struggling to find words to say. “Don’t I need training?”

“You don’t sound very excited… I thought you would be happy about this. Didn’t you apply to join our spacefaring program last year?”

“I mean, yeah.” Henry shuffled in his seat awkwardly. “But my application was turned down. I didn’t have enough education for it. Why do you want me now?”

“Things change,” Elliot laughed. “I’d like to personally ask you to join the Polus crew and help document alien life.”

The two fell silent. 

Elliot smirked coyly. “Is that a yes?”

“I–I mean, absolutely,” Henry sputtered. “I’m just… a little confused. Are you sure you’ve got the right person?”

“I most certainly do,” Elliot replied. 

“Okay,” Henry muttered, unsure of how he managed to get into this strange situation with no warning. “So… what now?”

“Go home, get some sleep, and come back here tomorrow. Same time, of course. I’ll get you all the details by then.” 

“Okay.”

“Have a good night, Henry.”

“Th–thanks.”

Henry’s head was still spinning as he made his way out of Elliot’s office. 

“You alright, buddy?” the security guard piped as Henry entered the elevator, his eyebrow raised curiously. “You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

“I’m fine.” Henry gripped his forehead, fighting off another dizzy spell. Butterflies were forming in the pit of his stomach as the elevator descended. “I just need to go home.”

And that’s exactly what Henry did. As soon as he fetched his lunch kit from the office fridge, the young man hopped into his SUV and drove straight home. Not even bothering to change out of his work uniform, Henry collapsed on the bed. His head continued spinning. 

Surely this was a big joke. 

Elliot herself said that many people were far more qualified than he was. So why was she so adamant about having Henry on her crew? It made no sense. 

Henry knew he wouldn’t have gotten any answers that night, not by muttering and mumbling into his pillow like a lunatic. He’d have to get the details tomorrow like Elliot told him to. So instead of uselessly mulling it over, Henry plucked his phone off the side table and quickly dialled a number. The phone barely had time to ring before someone on the other end picked up. “Hey, sweetie. How was work today?”

“Hi Henry, it was good! What about you?”

“Well, I–I was called into a meeting by the CEO. She said she wanted me in her spacefaring program.”

“Oh, that’s… hang on. Are you serious? They accepted you?!”

“Yeah. She asked me to help with some research. She said she was impressed by my application and—”

“You’re going to space!” A young woman’s voice bubbled ecstatically over the phone. She laughed and giggled, even belting out an excited shriek for good measure. “I’m so proud of you! I knew you’d get in, I just knew it!”

“You did, yeah.”

“God, I wish I could be there right now,” the woman chuckled. “I want to give you a big hug.”

Henry smiled faintly. “Thanks, sweetie.”

“I’m going to go buy a bunch of chocolates for you today. I don’t know if it’ll get delivered before you leave, but it can at least be a welcome-back present.”

“Oh, you don’t have to, Sigrid,” Henry replied. “How would you even send it? The post office won’t accept packages that big. I don’t even know if a box of chocolates would fit in the mail truck.”

The woman, presumably named Sigrid, huffed indignantly. “Well, fine. I’ll just think of something else.”

Henry had never actively sought out a relationship. He was too focused on work to consider dating, and his social circle wasn’t large enough for him to start dating around. And yet, for three years now, Henry had been in a lovely relationship with a woman named Sigrid Brandson. She lived in northwestern Canada (according to her), far away from any large cities, and Henry wasn’t yet lucky enough to meet her face-to-face. 

The reason? Sigrid was a giant. 

There few places giants and humans could casually be together—and much fewer ways to travel to each other—so they usually spent their time on the phone or video calls. Henry didn’t mind much, although it was disheartening to have never kissed Sigrid even after years of being committed. 

It was thanks to Sigrid that Henry learned to speak and write Riesian, the language of the giants. When the two first met on an online fan forum, Sigrid spoke very little English, and Henry didn’t even know the Riesian language existed. But with time and effort, the two were able to cross the language barrier, eventually teaching each other their native tongues. 

“Do you know where you’re going?”

“Yeah, she said I’m going to a planet called Polus. They have a research base set up there.”

“Polus?” Sigrid repeated. “Oh… that’s… that’s nice.”

It was then that Henry realized Sigrid’s voice had become a tad crestfallen. He frowned. “Everything good?”

“Just… be careful out there,” Sigrid murmured. “I know it’s probably fine and I’m worrying about nothing, but make sure you stay safe, okay? And call me if you can. I’m so proud of you, Henry.” She suddenly stopped speaking English and switched to Riesian. 

“Bai tcho eim, honey.” 

Be safe.

***

On the days leading up to takeoff, Elliot had been vigorously training Henry. He learned how to fix wiring issues, how to power up engines, how to use the weather nodes, and how to examine and sort specimens that were brought into the base. Henry was very quickly becoming a rather competent spacefarer. 

But still, Henry was on edge. Despite the training and the reassurances from Elliot, something didn’t sit quite right. But none of that mattered—before he knew it, Henry was stuffed into a white spacesuit, complete with the MIRA logo and the American flag emblazoned on the shoulders. Dozens of people swarmed around him, talking to each other and furiously taking notes. A brisk wind punctuated the murmur of the crowd. 

Elliot knelt before him, her hands running along the fabric to make sure the suit would fit Henry. 

“You’ll be accompanying Aesir Vidstrom while you’re on Polus,” she said as she worked. “He’s the new chief of medical staff. He’ll meet you at the landing site and help you get settled in.” Elliot fiddled with the straps on Henry’s waist, tightening the suit until it fit. Henry was quite a few inches shorter than prior astronauts, so his spacesuit needed to be altered before he could use it. “You’re to stay with Aesir at all times unless he says otherwise. Is that clear?”

Henry nodded and glanced away, choosing to stare at the looming spaceship atop the crowded launchpad—a dropship, Elliot had called it. The ship was fairly large, about eight meters in height and width, and the nose stretched outwards almost twelve meters. The jet black paint glistened in the early morning sun, and Henry’s nose crinkled at the smell of something burning. 

“And remember, my crew is always on standby. We’ll be ready to help you whenever you need it.”

“Th–thank you, ma’am.”

“Don’t mention it.” Elliot finally stepped away from Henry, admiring the finished spacesuit. “I think you’re ready. Let’s get you out of here.” She turned around, facing the crowd, and raised her voice. “Five minutes to takeoff!”

“Five minutes!” someone screamed over the din. “Fire up the reactors!”

“Starting reactors! Diverting power to the left and right engines! Standby…”

“All clear, ma’am! Someone get Newground on board!”

“Let’s go, Henry.” Elliot shoved Henry towards the dropship. The large metal plating began to slide up, similar to a garage door. A pair of men in uniform guided Henry up the steps and into the cabin of the ship. Ten plush seats lined the walls—Henry took a tentative seat in the closest one, the farthest to the left, and began to buckle himself in. The men in uniform quickly left as the engine roar increased in volume. The other staff members gathered along the edges of the launch pad in anticipation. 

“Good luck, Henry!” Elliot hollered, waving her arm up over the crowd. “You'll do great, I know it!”

Before Henry could reply, the door began to slide shut. The ship shivered and groaned, and within seconds, the whole thing began to rise and sway. Henry barely had time to squeeze his eyes shut before the ship suddenly lurched forward at unimaginable speeds. 

The poor man clenched his seatbelt like a lifeline. He knew takeoff would only last a minute or two, and yet the ordeal seemed to last a lifetime. Henry felt his body being squished against the chair, constructing his lungs and preventing him from breathing. As much as he tried to, he couldn’t even scream. 

And then, as quickly as it began, everything started to slow down again. The roar of the engine faded somewhat, and the whole cabin gradually stopped shaking. Henry wasn’t quite confident enough to get out of the seat, so he remained strapped in, gasping heavily as he tried to soothe his racing heart. 

Finally, when everything was calm, Henry shakily unbuckled himself and rose to stand. As he shuffled through the cabin, he took the time to properly examine the interior of the dropship he would be riding in. There were various steel crates scattered about, each containing canned rations and various tools. A small laptop was placed on the smallest crate, detailing the dropship’s velocity, fuel levels, turbulence, and current distance from Polus. He made a mental note to check on it later to make sure everything was normal. 

And then, on the starboard side of the ship, a solitary window glimmered.

Henry dared himself to peer outside. 

He paused, then gasped.

Even after seeing outer space countless times in photographs and videotapes, Henry was still gobsmacked by the vast starry void before him. To his right, the planet Earth was rapidly shrinking as he blasted further away, and the sun was a mere speck of light in the distance. This wasn’t a fantasy anymore—Henry was hurtling through the solar system in a spaceship, making his way towards an alien planet. 

A childish grin crept onto his face. 

This was it. After years of daydreaming, Henry was a real-life astronaut—his younger self would be so proud. Henry was so ecstatic that his earlier anxieties and frustrations were completely forgotten, left behind on his home planet. 

In less than two days, Henry would arrive on Polus to begin his spacefaring apprenticeship. He kept thinking about Sigrid, imagining all the stories he’d get to tell her when he got back to Earth. 

This was going to be amazing.

He just hoped nothing would go wrong. 

***

The trip to Polus was progressing faster than Henry ever expected. He wondered how MIRA’s ships could move so quickly and yet use so little fuel—it was a blessing of science, to be sure. 

But by the twentieth hour of the trip came and went, Henry felt anything but blessed. 

There wasn’t much for entertainment in the dropship. Henry could only fumble around on the laptop, gaze out of the window, or pace the cabin a few times. The boredom was excruciating, but the anticipation was even worse. Luckily, Elliot had reached out to him a few times via video calls, answering questions and keeping him company during the arduous journey to Polus. 

“Any turbulence today?” she asked. 

“None,” Henry replied. “No asteroids, either. Everything is fine so far.”

Elliot smiled. “Good. The dropship has a bit of a reputation for rough rides, so I was worried about engine damage. Seems like I was worried about nothing.”

The two made idle conversation every four hours or so, which was a welcome distraction. As much as Henry adored being in space for the first time, he couldn’t deny how lonely and boring it was. And having someone like Elliot to guide him was another welcome addition, even if her presence unnerved Henry somewhat. 

Two more days passed. Henry was munching on his lunch ration. He’d opened the package to find sliced canned meat—bland and oily and smelly. But with the addition of some crackers and canned oranges, the meal made for a decent lunch. However, before he was even halfway finished eating, a rumbling began to overtake the cabin. His lunch contained tumbled onto its side, spilling cracker crumbs all over the floor. Henry instinctively latched onto a nearby crate, trying his best not to fall over as the entire ship swayed. 

A synthetic voice rose over the fray. “Entering the Polus mesosphere,” it announced in a polite, monotonous tone. “Current velocity: 326 miles per hour. Engine temperature: nominal. Distance from indicated landing site: estimate of 833 miles. Please fasten your seatbelt and prepare for landing.”

Henry was knocked to the ground as the shaking intensified. The ship was approaching Polus, and fast. He crawled to the nearest seat, restraining himself a bit too tightly in his haste. The voice continued droning on as the ship entered the planet’s atmosphere. 

“786 miles… 721 miles… 678 miles…”

And then a deafening screech sounded from above. Henry winced and tightened his grip on the seatbelt as the ship suddenly did a nosedive. 

“504 miles… 452 miles…”

A siren overhead wailed loudly. Bright red lights flashed in the corners of his eyes. 

“310 miles… 259 miles…”

Something was very, very wrong. 

“199 miles… 97 miles…”

He braced himself. 

“12 miles… 2 miles…”

Everything went white. 

***

“Come on, don’t die on me.”

Black dots continued to bounce in Henry’s vision as his mind stirred. The young man let out a miserable groan, clutching his forehead painfully. 

“That’s it… Wake up, little guy…”

Henry paused. It took him a moment to realize that the voice overhead wasn’t speaking English. It took two more seconds to realize that the voice was extremely loud, almost like it was coming from a speaker. 

Both these mysteries were solved as soon as he opened his eyes. 

A monstrously large figure loomed above, blocking out the light of the bulb dangling overhead. Ginormous eyes, hazel and bright, were locked onto Henry’s trembling body. And it—he—was smiling gently. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” the giant man murmured in Riesian. “I’m not gonna hurt you, little guy.”

Henry swallowed hard. He took a moment to gather himself so he wouldn’t have a panic attack, then turned his attention back to the giant face hanging above him. The huge, strange man cocked his head curiously. “Ah geez, I hope you’re not broken or anything… That would suck.” The voice boomed and shook Henry’s core, even though the giant was trying to speak softly. Henry couldn’t even keep eye contact without his heart dropping, so he kept his gaze locked onto the giant’s chest. He only barely noticed the white MIRA spacesuit the giant wore, identical to Henry’s suit in every way aside from its massive size. “Oh yeah, you can’t understand me, huh? Maybe we have a translator lying around here…”

“I–I am fine,” Henry fumbled in awkward Riesian, forcing his voice not to waver. He wasn’t even sure if he was even speaking correctly—but he was too nervous to care about his grammar. Fluency was the least of his problems. “I am okay.”

“Sweet.” The giant nodded, froze, then gasped. “...Wait, you can understand me?”

“I d–d–do.”

“But you’re human.” The giant’s face descended further—huge strands of curly brown hair brushed along Henry’s stomach. “Humans don’t speak Riesian.”

“Y–you’re right,” Henry murmured, flinching away from the enormous eyes drilling into him. “It’s a long story.”

The giant suddenly scoffed, his sheepish half-smile giving way to a full grin. “Cheeky bugger, huh? The name’s Aesir. What’s yours?”

“You are Aesir?” Henry perked up. “Aesir Vidstrom?”

Aesir’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh, yeah. You’ve heard of me?”

Henry licked his lips, trying to remember some difficult Riesian words. “You are a… scientist. A space e–explorer. B–b–but Ms. Rose… never said you are a… giant.”

“How about that,” Aesir laughed, stroking his chin. “Never thought I’d meet a human like you.”

Thinking for a moment, Aesir snapped his fingers in a sudden realization. 

“Oh, wait—then that would make you what’s-his-name, right? HQ said some random new guy was on his way. But they never said you’d be a human. That’s MIRA for you, I guess… If they were stupid enough to wreck your ship, then they’d forget to mention that.”

“Wreck my ship?” Henry repeated slowly. Memories began flooding back into his mind. The alarms, the flashing lights, the sudden nosedive…

The dropship crashed. 

“Wait, then I—” 

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, buddy.” The giant winced when Henry scrambled to sit up. “Take it easy, yeah?” Aesir paused for a moment, tapping his foot a few times. “Actually… Wait here for a sec, alright? I need to grab something.”

With that, Aesir moved away to shuffle out of sight.

With the enormous face out of his vision, Henry was able to sit up and finally assess the surrounding area, hissing a bit as he aggravated his injury. He was sitting on a mattress that stretched several meters in every direction. The blue sheets and white pillow were reminiscent of a gurney, like ones you might find in a hospital. And sure enough, upon closer inspection, the room appeared to be a small medical bay, white walls and smell of disinfectant included. There were three other identical beds lined between curtain barriers, just like the bed he was sitting on. Henry peered to the right. He could see the silhouette of Aesir leaned over a countertop through the wall of curtains. 

What was he doing over there?

Henry forced himself to speak. “This is Polus?”

“Sure is,” Aesir replied from beyond the curtain wall. “You were lucky you made it this far on that hunk of junk—if your ship malfunctioned any sooner, you might’ve crashed into an asteroid or something.” Aesir came back into view, sidestepping the curtain to approach Henry. “Now stay still.”

“I… uh…” Henry held up his hands, carefully scooting back a few inches. Aesir hadn’t come back to Henry empty-handed; in his left palm, the giant cradled a glass syringe filled with a bluish liquid. The needle was almost six feet tall, taller than Henry was. “I–I do not need that.”

“Yes, you do. Come over here.” 

“It is t–too big,” Henry wavered, curling in on himself as Aesir continued to approach. “Nothing hurts. I am… un–uninjured. Do not need that. Do not need it.”

Listening to Henry’s trembling voice and weak attempts to dissuade him, Aesir’s face fell. “Look,” he whispered, getting onto his knees to kneel by the bed, “don’t make this harder than it needs to be. When we’re in medbay, I’m the boss.” The giant slowly reached out his free hand, grasping Henry’s shoulder with his enormous finger and thumb. His other hand, the one bearing the syringe, began to drift closer to Henry. “Now stay still, or this will hurt more than it needs to.”

In a fright, Henry leapt away from Aesir’s hand in a frantic escape attempt. He scrambled across the sheet, making a beeline for the white pillow at the head of the bed. 

“Shit—” Aesir cursed under his breath, tossing the needle to the side. He made a lunge forward, both hands outstretched, reaching for Henry’s tiny form. Before Henry could reach the pillows, the terrified human being suddenly found himself encased in musty, cramped darkness. His stomach sank when he realized what just happened—Aesir had trapped him in his hands. 

A feeling of intense vertigo overcame him as Aesir stood up straight; he felt himself being slammed against the giant palm beside him. Despite being very obviously trapped, Henry continued to squirm, searching in vain for an opening to crawl through. He pawed at the skin surrounding him, growing ever more desperate. 

And then a light shone through the fingers above him. “Stop being a brat,” Aesir muttered. Henry opened his mouth to retort, but his breath hitched in his throat when a sharp pain pierced his lower back. He let out a strangled sob, trying not to thrash around and hurt himself more. 

Aesir hummed contentedly. “There we go… nice and easy.” The needle retracted as quickly as it was injected. Henry took the moment of reprieve to dry his eyes and ease his pounding heart. “Told you it wasn’t that bad,” he chuckled. “Just be thankful it wasn’t worse.” 

Henry refused to reply—he focused on keeping his eyes locked downward. Aesir’s lack of empathy was beginning to unsettle him; although the giant paid lip service to Henry’s discomfort, he ultimately seemed to care very little about the pain and terror he was causing. 

Aesir, oblivious to Henry’s plight, lifted his hands to his face, staring down the sniffling, petrified human with unbridled excitement. “Well, now that you’re all drugged up, I figure we’re good to get your suit back on. Don’t want you freezing out here, you know.”

“Suit?” Ah, yes. They were in space, after all. It made sense that he should have to wear a spacesuit, even if they were indoors. “O–okay.”

Aesir pulled his left hand away from Henry, reaching for the nearby countertop. His hand returned quickly, dangling the white spacesuit with his index and thumb. “Legs up, bud. Let’s get you dressed.”

“I can do it,” Henry said quickly, knowing exactly where this conversation was going. 

“Yeah, nah,” Aesir chuckled. “Doctor’s orders. Now hold still this time, you brat.”

Henry huffed pointedly, knowing that he wouldn’t be getting out of this. With heavy reluctance, Henry slowly raised his legs into the air, allowing Aesir to slip the pant legs on, followed by the sleeves and the helmet. Unfortunately, the visor was cracked along the upper edge, but Aesir urged him not to worry. “The glass is three layers thick,” he explained. “You’ll be fine until we can get a replacement.” Surprisingly, Henry didn’t quite believe him. 

Henry had only just gotten the suit fitted (or rather, Aesir did the fitting for him) when someone suddenly spoke up. “Aesir.”

At the sound of the firm, strange voice, Henry flinched. His eyes landed on a figure standing in the corner of the room, dressed in a bulky green spacesuit. Henry couldn’t see her face—the light of the room reflected off the visor, obscuring whatever was behind the glass. Henry briefly imagined that she looked like a war veteran, stoic and hardened, probably with lots of scars decorating their skin.

“Oh, Svikari!” Aesir whirled around at the voice, clearing his throat and donning a lopsided grin. “What brings you here?”

“I came to see the human.” The woman, presumably named Svikari, barely budged as she spoke. It was like she was a statue with a voice of its own. “But I see you’ve taken care of things. I’ll be on my way, then.”

Aesir choked on something. “W–wait! Hang on a tic, alright? Why the hurry?”

Svikari cocked her head, acting as though Aesir’s question was incredibly stupid. “I have work to do. I came to see how the human was doing, and now I have to go.”

“Well, hang on,” Aesir stammered, fumbling over his words. “How about you come with me to storage today? I have to do some refuelling there.”

“I don’t have any tasks in storage today,” Svikari replied curtly.

“Come on, boss,” Aesir urged, lowering his voice. “It’s safer in groups. You know that.” He perked up a bit, raising his cupped hands. Not expecting to be jerked upward, Henry was almost launched off his palms. “A–and I know you wanna meet the human! He’s kind of bratty, but I think you’ll like him.”

Svikari paused. “Hello, human,” she said softly. “I trust you’ve been treated well?”

Henry hesitated. What was he supposed to say? He was tempted to start ratting off all the bruises he was getting thanks to Aesir, but he bit his tongue. Would he get in trouble if he told the truth? This Svikari character seemed far less sympathetic than Aesir, so perhaps there would be no point in complaining. They might even hurt him even more for speaking up. So he swallowed his pride and nodded slowly. “Y–yes, I am fine.” 

Svikari paused, glancing between Henry, who shuddered under her scrutinizing gaze, and Aesir, who smiled hopefully. 

“If you’re that afraid to go alone, I suppose I can come,” Svikari sighed. 

“I’m not scared!” Aesir retorted, tightening his painful grip on Henry. “I just don’t wanna get jumped in there.” Shrugging, Aesir once again prodded Henry in the stomach, chuckling as he did so. “I guess if an imposter shows up, I can use Henry as bait. You wouldn’t mind, right bud?”

Svikari laughed in reply, although something about her tone seemed… off. Henry wasn’t able to tell if the laughter was genuine or sarcastic. Henry said nothing at first, focusing on clutching his stomach to keep himself from throwing up. 

“I–imposters?” Henry finally coughed. “What are imposters?”

“Oops.” Aesir winced painfully. “Uh, well… we weren’t supposed to tell you.”

“I see no harm in explaining,” Svikari interjected. “If he’s going to stay here, he should know.”

“But Ms. Rose said—”

“I’ll handle Rose. Just keep your mouth shut.”

Aesir groaned, scrunching up his face in discomfort. “I mean… you’re the boss, dude. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. She’s scary when she gets mad.”

“Thank you, Aesir.” Svikari nodded, finally turning her attention back to Henry. “I assume Elliot never told you about the strange happenings on this base?”

“N–no.”

“I thought not. It’s in her best interest to keep this all a secret, after all.” Svikari folded her arms, exuding that terrifying, ominous energy that only giants were capable of. “Elliot probably told you that we found life on this planet. The life forms we discovered are what we’ve been calling imposters—carnivorous, man-eating shapeshifters that we’ve been trying to get rid of for the last few months.”

Henry felt his stomach drop. Carnivores? Man-eating? Shapeshifters? Someone had to be pulling his leg at this point. “Ms. Rose said you found plant life,” he countered quickly, not willing to believe Svikari’s wild claims. “She said nothing about aliens.”

“That’s because she was lying.”

“B–but why would she lie?”

“Telling people would be bad for business, I guess. Who knows what goes on in her head.” Svikari shrugged weakly. “Imposters have been wreaking lots of havoc lately. They kill the lights, mess with the reactors, cut off the oxygen supply… and I’m willing to bet they caused your ship to crash.”

“You’re right,” Aesir gasped. “I didn’t even think about that. They probably messed with the radio signals or something.” 

“We’re pretty sure we got rid of them for now, at least.”

“Don’t speak too soon,” Aesir corrected. “Remember what happened to Tor?”

“Of course I do,” Svikari huffed. “It took Bastion weeks to get the blood out of the carpet.”

Oh, dear god. 

There was no room for doubt, then. Henry began to tremble, tears causing his eyes to glimmer. What sort of cruel joke was the universe playing on him? After so long, he manages to achieve his dream of becoming an astronaut, only to find himself stranded on a faraway planet with malicious giants and man-eating aliens. Some malicious deity had to be laughing their ass off right about now. 

“Aww, don’t worry, little guy!” Aesir cooed behind his visor, bouncing the human seated in his hand. “Big bad imposter people can’t hurt you out here.”

While Aesir continued to coo condescending reassurances, bouncing his hand in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture, Svikari stared thoughtfully at the minuscule human. Henry had no idea what was going on in that strange head of hers. Henry simply gripped the coarse fabric of Aesir’s glove, trying his best not to descend into a full-blown breakdown. 

“We should be going,” Svikari said suddenly. “Let’s take care of refuelling so I can finish my tasks.” 

Aesir hummed in agreement. “Okay. Let’s go.” 

***

If Henry was being frank, which he usually wasn’t, he’d say that Polus was a bit… underwhelming. If he wasn’t looking at the dank, snowy, barren landscape, or the abnormally large scale of everything around him, Henry would truly believe he was still on earth. Still, Aesir seemed determined to remind Henry just how small he was at any given opportunity. He’d croon, poke, and tease him incessantly, despite Henry’s continual whimpers of disapproval. 

Thankfully, it didn’t take long for Aesir to fill up the fuel tank in the storage room, which was a cramped little building in the centre of the base. Svikari decided to just follow Aesir around until all his tasks were done, with the promise that Aesir would return the favour afterward. 

Svikari offered to carry Henry while Aesir worked. The giant was visibly hesitant about this proposition, refusing the offer the first few times Svikari asked. But eventually, Aesir relented, and Henry had been relegated to riding in Svikari’s hands. Henry sat in silence, rubbing his newfound bruises absently. He briefly wondered if someone would give him painkillers if he asked, but he pushed the thought away. There’s no chance they’d even consider the idea. 

“Almost done,” Aesir announced after a while, leading the group down a long hallway. Small patches of snow crunched beneath their boots as they trudged along. “I just gotta check the oxygen supply. Svikari, what tasks do you have left?”

A beat of silence passed before an answer came out. “O–oh, I need to fill the air canisters,” Svikari said quickly, stumbling over her words a bit. “And then I have to upload some data to HQ.”

“Cool.” Aesir glanced behind him, eyeing Henry with a cheeky grin. “You good back there, pipsqueak? Need anything?”

“No,” Henry mumbled. 

Aesir laughed, unfazed by Henry’s sneering tone. “Alright, don’t get your panties in a knot.”

After his initial wave of terror had passed, Henry found himself becoming increasingly agitated. He was upset with Aesir for terrorizing him in the lab. He was angry at Elliot for sending him to Polus. And he was mad at Svikari, too. He didn’t have a reason to be, but darn it, he was mad anyway. 

Henry was broken out of his thoughts when something brushed against his shoulder—a thumb. “Hey.” Svikari tapped him gently, her head tilted to the side. “You look upset. Is everything ok?”

With her intimidating presence, Henry could barely keep his eyes on Svikari. His eyes drifted to the ground, locked into his feet as he replied quietly. “Yes.”

“It doesn’t look like it,” the giant prodded. “Did he... Did Aesir hurt you? You don’t look too good.”

Henry bit his lip nervously. “N–no, he didn’t.”

Svikari sighed. “You’re lying. I can tell.” She adjusted her hands, swiveling Henry around so he had to face her completely. “Tell me what happened.”

“I–I...” Henry backpedalled, scooting as far away from Svikari’s looming face. He found his back pressing against Svikari’s curled fingers, and through the shimmering glass, he could almost see two pleading eyes locked into him. “H–he didn’t mean to. I just... wh–when he tried to give me those medications, I tried to run away—”

“What?” Svikari frowned. “Hang on, back up. What medications? What are you talking about?”

“U–um, he didn’t say what it was. Maybe it was a painkiller.”

“...Did he use a needle? Was it a blue liquid?”

“H–how did you know that?”

Svikari fell silent. She glanced towards Aesir, who was walking a ways ahead, and her muscles tensed. “That wasn’t a painkiller,” she said lowly. “It’s an experimental drug that our old medical chief was working on. We aren’t allowed to use it until we test it, since it killed our test subjects a few days ago. Aesir seriously could have killed you.”

Henry’s heart dropped into his stomach.

“I knew something was fishy,” Svikari growled, her grip on Henry tightening slightly. “Aesir was just an intern until our old medical chief got killed by impostors. No one thinks he’s cut out for the position, but we don’t have anyone else who’s even remotely qualified.”

Silence overcame them for a few minutes.

“Aesir,” Svikari finally called, a hard edge lining her voice. “Can we talk?”

Aesir stopped in his tracks. He turned to Svikari questioningly. “Hey, boss. What’s up?”

“About that drug you were working on... Have you tested it lately?”

Aesir paused, tapping his foot as he descended into thought. “Hmm... No, I don’t think so. Not since the rats died on me.”

“I see.” Svikari huffed indignantly. If she weren’t holding Henry, she most certainly would be crossing her arms. “So you haven’t used it at all since then?”

“Nope.”

“That’s funny,” she laughed. “Because I’m pretty sure you used it on the human this morning.”

Aesir’s arms and shoulders locked up.

“Am I right?”

“...Did he tell you that?”

“No, I figured it out.”

“Oh.” Aesir looked down at Henry, a faint scowl crossing his face before he turned his attention back to Svikari. “Don’t tell anyone,” he breathed. “Please. I could get fired.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Svikari snapped. “You weren’t worried about killing him? God, it’s just like you to pull a stunt like that. You only care about yourself.”

“I–it’s not like that, boss. I promise.”

Svikari groaned, rubbing her face with her free hand. “I won’t tell anyone. But you have to get your act together or I’m bringing this issue to the captain.” Her fingers curled inward, shielding Henry from Aesir’s view. “And until then, I’m revoking your jurisdiction over the human. He’ll be accompanying me from now on.”

“But I—”

“Is that a problem?”

“N–no, ma’am,” Aesir replied shakily. “You’re the boss.”

“Good.” Svikari nodded firmly. “Now, then... let’s finish our tasks before I change my mind.”

Aesir nodded, ducked his head, and continued walking in silence. His footsteps clomped much faster than before, but Svikari continued at her usual slower pace.

“I’ll take care of this, Henry,” she whispered. “Don’t worry.”

Way to make an impossible request. Henry wasn’t just worried—he was terrified. Not only did Aesir try to make him a test subject for his weird new drug, but now he had to face the wrath of the very giant that could have killed him. The only thing standing between himself and Aesir was Svikari, who Henry wasn’t even sure he could trust.

Svikari probably meant well. At least, Henry wanted to believe that. But something was off about her that Henry couldn’t quite pinpoint. The way she carried herself, her odd way of speaking, her constant bouts of silence… She was weird. No one would deny that.

But there was something else. Svikari wasn’t just strange—she was downright creepy. She obviously knew much more than she was letting on, and Henry couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d met her somewhere before. 

And then a thought struck him. 

Henry craned his neck up to look at Svikari’s visor, and through the glass, he could almost spot the outline of two large eyes. “How do you know my name?” he asked. 

“You told me earlier, remember?”

“No, I didn���t. I never told you my name. Neither did Aesir.”

“Oh.” Svikari slowed to a stop. She glanced at Aesir, who was too far ahead to hear them conversing. The giant huffed and lowered her voice, a frantic tinge lining her words. “I’ll… I’ll tell you later.”

“No. Tell me now.” Henry wasn’t sure why he felt so brave all of a sudden; maybe he was fed up with being constantly treated like a child, or maybe he was just experiencing an adrenaline rush. But he felt he had nothing else to lose at this point—Henry wouldn’t be giving up until he got an answer. “What’s your deal?”

“Deal?” Svikari laughed nervously. “I… I don’t have a deal. I’m just Svikari.”

Henry found it a bit strange that Svikari was caving so easily to his interrogation. She had no problem shutting down Aesir, so why was she losing face in front of a human? It made no sense. But Henry was beginning to put puzzle pieces together. Svikari knew Henry’s name. She was invested in keeping him safe. She was able to tell when he was lying. And here she was, her tail tucked between her legs, being verbally grilled by a human being. 

This Svikari person… seemed awfully familiar.

“Are you?” Henry glared daggers at Svikari’s visor. “Because I don’t think you’re telling the truth. Is that even your real name?”

“It’s—!”

 “Tell me the truth!” Henry hollered, throwing his arms to the air in frustration. “I’m tired of being babied! I’m tired of you two hiding things from me! Tell me the truth right now!”

“Okay, okay!” Svikari hissed. “Keep your voice down, alright? I don’t want Aesir listening.”

At that, Henry sobered a bit, tossing a cautious glance at Aesir walking ahead. Luckily, he didn’t seem to have heard anything. “So out with it,” Henry snapped, facing Svikari with a scowl. “What’s going on?”

“...You were onto something when you mentioned my name,” Svikari said slowly, every word hushed and deliberate. “Just so we’re clear—my real name is Svikari. But you wouldn’t know me by that name.”

“You used another name,” Henry finished, the dots finally connecting in his mind. “When you talked to me.”

The giant’s empty hand falling limp at her side. “I… I was hoping we’d get to see each other on peaceful terms, and… I wanted it to be on Earth, to be honest.”

Henry swallowed hard. “You… You’re Sigrid.”

Svikari smiled, trying her best not to look intimidating. “It’s nice to meet you, Henry.”

“This is impossible. I–it can’t be you. You’re a—”

“You fellas good back there?” Aesir called, swivelling his head around to peek at the pair. “Sounds like a real bout you’re having.”

Svikari cleared her throat. Her hands lowered, taking Henry out of her field of vision. “We’re fine. Just keep going.”

Aesir simply shrugged. “Alright.”

The group hooked right when the hallway abruptly ended. They found themselves standing before a small room secluded in the corner of the building. Something akin to grass lined the ground, and a large, towering tree stood proudly in the centre of the room. Embedded in the trunk of the tree was a small monitor, complete with wires looping in and out of the bark. While he couldn’t be certain, Henry wagered that this was the oxygen supply Aesir mentioned, although he didn’t expect the oxygen supply to be a plant of all things. 

“This won’t take long, ma’am,” Aesir stammered as he stepped into the threshold of the room, bending over to peer at the monitor. His face contorted into an expression of disgust. “Yeesh. Who messed with the RAD settings?”

“Beats me,” Svikari hummed.

“Whatever... Hang on, I just gotta fix this mess real quick.” With that, Aesir fell silent, sliding his fingers rapidly along the screen. Svikari simply stood nearby and waited, while Henry fidgeted anxiously. He couldn’t get their earlier conversation out of his head. Svikari’s words—or rather, Sigrid’s words—echoed in his brain, rattling his thoughts around. 

Svikari, meanwhile, was extremely quiet. Henry gazed at her, opening his mouth to ask a question, only to have a giant finger press against his mouth. Shh. 

Henry blinked, a little unnerved by how Svikari was acting, but nodded slowly. Svikari lifted her head and peered at Aesir, who was still focused on the monitor screen. Then, moving as slowly as possible, Svikari knelt down and tilted her hands, sending Henry sliding onto the grass below. 

It took Henry a moment to orient himself. He diligently wiped off the grass that clung to his suit and looked skyward just in time to see Svikari approaching Aesir from behind. The human watched intently as Svikari snuck up on Aesir, a kitchen knife clutched tightly behind her back, wondering what she was up to.

… 

...A kitchen knife?

Before Henry could even think to look again, he was subjected to the sound of a hideous squelch. There was a flash of red, a pained grunt, and suddenly Aesir collapsed to the ground, motionless. 

Svikari loomed ominously over the limp body, her hand still latched onto the knife that she’d plunged into Aesir’s back. Murky blood was beginning to pool at her feet, staining the grass a horrid shade of crimson. And then Svikari’s head pivoted like an owl, boring her gaze into Henry. 

“Don’t scream,” she heaved.

“Y–you—” Henry’s hands flew to his mouth. “You killed him.”

Svikari faced Henry fully. She extended her hands slowly and carefully, taking cautious steps forward as she spoke. “I know. Just… please stay quiet,” she whispered as she drew closer. 

“G–get away from me,” Henry choked, stumbling backwards and throwing his hands up to protect himself. “Please, don’t— d–don’t kill me.”

“Henry!” Svikari suddenly exclaimed, speeding up and making a beeline for Henry. “Be careful, you’re going to—”

Seeing Svikari quickly approaching, Henry made the split-second decision to spin around and bolt. But by the time he noticed the gaping crater in the floor below, it was too late. His foot whizzed through thin air, and with no further fanfare, he tumbled down into the pitch-black abyss. Time froze—a shout echoed from above. 

Then he hit the ground. Hard. 

Something snapped. Henry yowled in agony. He found himself unable to budge without pain coursing through his battered limbs. Tears began welling in his eyes, but he fought the urge to sob—crying would make it hurt even more. Thankfully, his visor was still intact, although the same could not be said for his bones. He simply laid motionless on his stomach, his arms and legs spread out, praying he would just pass out already.

“Oh no.” Svikari’s voice echoed off the crater walls, but Henry couldn’t see where she was standing. Even if the human was able to move his head and look around, the darkness cloaked everything in the vicinity. There was no telling where the giant was, but she was close. “Henry… It’s alright. I’m going to help you.”

“N–no,” Henry hissed, weakly hacking out the taste of copper from his mouth. “Not like this. Please.”

“Stop that. You’re hurting yourself. Please… let me help.”

“But you killed—” Henry couldn’t restrain himself anymore. He began to cry softly, despite how much it hurt him to do so. Every sniffle was excruciating, wracking his body from the inside-out. “You’re an i–imposter, aren’t you? And you’re going to kill me next.”

“No no no, honey… I would never hurt you.” Svikari’s voice was right next to his ear at this point. A huff of hot breath washed over Henry, rustling his hair. Wasn’t Svikari wearing a helmet, though? How could he feel her breath? “Listen… you’ve gotta trust me. I’m going to get you out of here.”

Henry cast a bitter glance to the side, unsure if Svikari was even standing in that direction. “You’re a liar.”

Svikari didn’t grace Henry with a reply. Instead, two long fingers slowly and deliberately dug beneath his stomach and hoisted him into the air. Henry squeezed his eyes shut as he was pressed against Svikari’s chest. Maybe this would be quick and painless. He could only pray at this point.

“Let me think…” Svikari inched her way forward, snaking through the dark underground pathway so as to not jostle Henry too much. In his daze, Henry failed to realize that there was no way Svikari could fit into the crater, let alone move around freely. But the only thing he was focused on was making peace with his life, knowing that he was about to die at the hands of the one he loved more than anyone else. 

Suddenly, Henry was blinded by sunlight. Svikari had begun crawling out of another crater located outside of the building. The holes in the ground seemed to be interconnected. But how did Svikari know that? And where was she planning on taking him? 

Before Henry could voice any of these questions, a deafening alarm sounded from above. He looked up just in time to see a flashing red light next to a speakerphone attached to the roof nearby. “BODY REPORTED,” a voice blared. “ALL PERSONNEL TO THE OFFICE. REPEAT, ALL PERSONNEL TO THE OFFICE.” 

Svikari swore under her breath. She lifted Henry out of the crook of her elbow, quickly swooping him towards a pocket located on her chest. “I’m gonna need you to stay quiet for now, alright?”

Henry’s breath hitched, eyeing the pocket warily as his legs were swallowed by it. “Why do I—”

“Shh.” Svikari cut him off. “Just trust me. I’ll explain everything once I take care of this.” With those ominous words echoing in his head, Henry was once again plunged into darkness, trapped in the front pocket of her spacesuit. 

There was no way this would end well.

***

[fxkthatdairy]

The Principal’s Office Part Four~ Grayson Dolan

Overview: (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N) was the new 5th grade History teacher at The Dolan’s Private Academy in New Jersey. She moved across the country to teach at the school. On the first day, an unexpected visitor stops by her classroom to check in on her. What happens when they fall head over heels for each other?

Warnings:Extreme fluff, slight smut

(Y/N) woke up that next morning around 9:00 and slid out of bed still in a state of bliss of her date with Grayson last night. The furniture was to be delivered around noon so she jumped in the shower real quick. She put on a pair of comfortable shorts and a old t-shirt. She threw her hair in a quick messy bun and went downstairs to make breakfast. She decided to make some pancakes, bacon and eggs. She texted Grayson that the delivery truck would be here around noon and he texted that he was on his way. She turned on some George Michael on her speakers as she cooked. She heard the doorbell ring and paused her cooking to go answer the door. There stood Grayson and as anyone could tell his twin brother.

“Good morning,” she greeted Grayson with a hug and stuck her hand out to shake Ethan’s hand, “I’m (Y/N), you must be Ethan. It’s nice to meet you. Come on in. I’m making breakfast.”

“Nice to meet you as well.” He said and they walked in. She went back to cooking and turned her music off so that she could make conversation with Grayson and Ethan.

“So I’m making pancakes right now and there is bacon and eggs on the island. The plates are in the cabinet near the fridge. Feel free to make yourselves a plate.” She said with a smile as she flipped the pancake. They both nodded their heads and grabbed a plate and made them a plate of food. She placed two pancakes each on their plates and made her own plate of food before sitting next to Grayson on the bar stools. The delivery people rang the doorbell and (Y/N) let them in and they began bringing in the packages and placing them where they were supposed to go. Grayson and Ethan went to help and (Y/N) told the movers where she needed the stuff to go. One of the movers were getting a little too close to (Y/N) then Grayson’s liking. He could tell she was getting uncomfortable and that was seriously infuriating him.

“If you ever need anyone to show you around town sweetcakes, give me a call.” He said and he tried to hand her his card and she refused.

“Please do not call me that and I’m seeing someone at the moment who has showed me the town so I’m not interested.” She said uncomfortably as the man was really in her personal space.

“Don’t worry sweetcakes, he won’t care. Trust me.” He said with a wink and (Y/n) shivered from the cringe. This set Grayson off.

“HE definitely would care. Now would you kindly leave her alone before I call your supervisor and have you fired and reported for sexual harassment.” Grayson said and wrapped his arm around (Y/N)’s shoulder. The feeling of his arm around her shoulder made (Y/N) feel more secure and relaxed.

“Sorry man, didn’t know she was yours.” The man walked off and went back to work. Grayson was definitely going to being telling the supervisor about that employee. Grayson rubbed (Y/N) back soothingly before getting back to work. They weren’t technically dating but that small gesture made (Y/N) feel protected and as if she was in a relationship. The movers unloaded the whole truck and then left, leaving Grayson, Ethan, and (Y/N) to put together the furniture. (Y/N) needed to go grab some food for lunch so she went to Subway, leaving Grayson and Ethan at the house to continue putting together the dining room table as they were previously doing. As soon as she left, the brothers began conversing.

“You love her man. I can tell, you’ve never been this way about anyone before. Have you asked her out officially yet?” Ethan asked.

“No, not yet. Last night on our date, I kissed her and she kissed back. I just got nervous and didn’t ask her to be my girlfriend. When that asshole was talking to her like that, I wanted to punch his teeth out. I feel like she’s my one man.” Grayson said as he screwed in the base of the table.

“Then you need to ask her out dude. I saw the way she looked at you, she loves you Grayson. If you don’t ask her soon it might be too late.” Ethan said as he helped put the last piece of the table together.

(Y/N) came back with the food and handed it out to the guys and ate her food as well. After they finished eating, (Y/N) tried to help as much as Grayson would let her. Truth was Grayson was raised to never let the lady do the hard work, no matter how hard it was on him, he shouldn’t let the ladies do it.

“I can help Gray, I know how to use a screwdriver.” She said as she stood over Grayson who was pouring sweat.

“It’s okay (Y/N), I’ve got it.” He said panting as Ethan handed him another screw.

“I am going to help Gray. You’re dripping in sweat and sound exhausted.” She said and took an extra screwdriver and some screws and began to help screw in the parts to the couch. Grayson sighed as he knew she was going to help anyway.

A few hours later and they were almost done. They had done everything except for (Y/N)’s bedroom. The Twins were currently working on putting together her wooden bed frame while (Y/N) was putting together her TV Stand. She set up all the cords and had the TV completely put together. She even put together her nightstands by herself. Sweaty, tired and out of breath, they all high-fived each other as they had finished.

“Thank you guys so much.” She said as she laid down on her hardwood floors to cool her body down. Grayson sat down right beside her.

“No problem (Y/N). I was half I could help. Well I’ve got to go, my mom needs my help with something.” Ethan said and gave you a quick hug before walking out.

“I’m going to stay a little longer, if you don’t mind.” Grayson said from the floor.

“Of course.” She said and sat down beside him leaning her head against his shoulder.

“I know I’m going to be sore tomorrow during class. No heels for me.” She said with a laugh. It was only 6:30 and she had a good two hours before she had to start getting ready for bed.

“Definitely,” he said, “(Y/N) I’ve got something to say but I’m scared I’m going to scare you away.”

“Go ahead Gray, nothing you say is going to make me leave.” She said a placed a hand on his shoulder.

“(Y/N), I love you. I know this all seems so sudden but when I laid eyes on you in the store I fell hard. I know this is fast and unusual because I am your boss but let’s throw away labels and look at what’s underneath. It’s just me and you and I fucking love you more than I’ve loved any girl. You are beautiful, intelligent, loyal, trustworthy, honest, and the kindest human. I see myself growing old with you and having a family with you. So please be my girlfriend? I’ll promise to love you, to care for you, to be there for you, to never let work I refer with us, to hold you, to trust you, to rely on you, and to be loyal to only you. So please be mine.” He said sweetly looking directly into her eyes for any signs of rejection. He saw the cogs turning in her brain but she didn’t didn’t give any signs of rejection so he still had hope.

She took a deep breath and dabbed the little tears that were welling in her eyes, no one had every said anything so sweet and from the heart like that to her. “Grayson, you are the most kind-hearted, respectable, honest, trust-worthy, handsome man I know. Of course I would love to be yours. You’ve shown me a side of life I didn’t even know existed. I’ll be your girlfriend Grayson.” She said and kissed him gently on the lips. He kissed back and pull her on top of his lip deepening the kiss. He began trailing his kissed softly down her neck and across her collarbone.

“Gray we are all sweaty.” (Y/N) moaned as Grayson kept softly kissing her neck.

“You’re right. Let’s take a shower.” He said with a smirk and picked her up with ease. (Y/N) let out a small squeak and Grayson carried her to the bathroom.

———————————————————————

Don’t we love cliffhangers 😊😏 Things are about to get really interesting up in here. I promise the next chapter will be longer. As always I hope you guys enjoy. If you have any requests, concepts or blurbs let me know. If you want to be on the tag list let me know 😊💛 love you guys 😘😍

Tag List: @pineappledols @frickin-bats @sweet-dolans @graysavant

[sparxwrites]

(written to “american love” by smallpools, which is a bit of a nadi anthem tbqh. neidyasset ainseelie is my character from a dnd campaign by @ladyofrosefire. for my fellow players: beware, there are Minor Spoilers here for the much-hyped eventual Meeting Of Nadi’s Family, in that this fic is primarily about nadi’s family. if you don’t care about that, then feel free to read on!!)

cw for shitty/manipulative parenting, a dubiously healthy relationship with alcohol, and an excess of teenage angst

[ao3]

The butler let Nadi in, as always. A new one, since the last time she’d visited – a young man, either an unusually pale Drow or half-Elven, smartly dressed in the Ainseelie livery of ivory and gold and already looking tired of his job.

She kept her eyes down, mumbling a thank you as he let her through the heavy wood-and-wrought-iron front door. No sense getting too friendly, all things considered. Her mother’d never been too good at keeping butlers – or any kind of serving staff for that matter. It rankled, she knew, just one of the many pricks at her mother’s noble pride.

He took her bags, too, foisting them off onto a more junior staff member moments later. She kept her satchel, one hand clutched around the strap across her chest, but the rest were spirited away before she had time to take more than two steps into the entrance hall. Quite how the butler thought he could get them to her room before she got there, she wasn’t sure, but–

“Neidyasset!” Lady Luarine Ainseelie’s voice rang out through the large entrance hall.

Nadi froze, eyes still on the pale, veined marble of the floor. That was how, apparently. Relying on a little family reunion. Unfortunate.

She’d assumed her parents would be out, given her deliberately-awkward mid-afternoon arrival, but apparently not. There was her mother on the stairs – in an elegant, understated dress of pale silk to compliment the deep purple of her skin, gold-set diamonds hung around her throat in thin, dripping strings, and a perfect smile pasted on her perfectly made-up face.

Her father stood a full two meters to the side, one step down, in starched cotton dress pants and a shirt rolled up to his elbows, both in a shade of ivory to tone with his wife’s gown and accented with gold buttons. His expression was as flat and unreadable as ever, lips pulled into a thin line and his eyes hard and cold.

“Lady Luarine Ainseelie,” said Nadi, forcing a smile onto her face that was somehow even more fake than her mother’s own painted-on one. “Lord Istas Ainseelie. It’s good to see you.” She offered a clumsy attempt at a curtsey, then gave up on it half way through as a bad deal and segued into a stiff bow.

Istas snorted, softly and humourlessly, at the graceless display.

The look his wife gave him out the corner of her eye was positively glacial, though her smile never wavered. “Neidyasset, darling, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Mother?” she said, expansive generosity in every word. A lie. They’d been through this little script enough times for Nadi to know the reaction if she opened with Mother. “Honestly. So formal!”

“Mother. Of course. ” Nadi straightened up, carefully correcting her posture and ensuring her shoulders weren’t up around her pointed ears, clasping one hand around the other wrist at the small of her back. “I… had assumed you would be out making social calls, given the hour and the season. I would have sent ahead to inform you of my arrival, otherwise.”

Luarine smile widened, though it still didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, water under the bridge,” she demurred. “The servants will sort everything, regardless. It’s just good to have you home, Neidyasset. How have your studies been?”

“They’re going well.” Nadi’s fingers tightened around her wrist, trying to remember this particular bit of the script, what lie she’d used last time. “It’s– you know. Business as usual. Research, reading, experiments… my supervisor’s hopeful that I’m very close to a breakthrough, but it’s always a little slow going when you’re on the cutting edge of arcane research.” She shrugged, dipped her gaze in what she hoped was a modest gesture, not a suspicious one. “I won’t bore you with the technical details, but it’s groundbreaking work. We’re taking mathemagics and philoarcanosophy to previously-unconceived-of heights. Very exciting.”

It was a lie, but mostly a white lie. Nad reassured herself with that, even as the nape of her neck prickled at the deception, even as she fought to keep from breaking out into a guilty cold sweat.

There was absolutely no need for her family to know about her missing supervisor, after all. About the faculty’s ambivalence towards finding her a new one. About her stagnating research, in light of her recent academic suspension. And definitely no need for them to know about the impromptu Feywild trip. The mere thought of her mother learning that little tidbit was almost enough to make her shudder.

Though if Professor Egreth was gone for much longer… well. She’d burn that bridge when she got to it.

“Oh, how exciting!” Luarine turned to Istas, with a smile that showed too many teeth. “Our own little Neidyasset, on the cutting edge of arcane research. Aren’t you just so proud?”

“I am indeed,” said, Istas, drilly, looking as though he couldn’t care less. As though he would prefer to be literally anywhere else, having literally any other conversation. His gaze was fixed in the middle distance, on a point on the far wall somewhere well over the top of Nadi’s head.

For perhaps the first time in her life, Nadi felt a fleeting sense of kinship with her father.

“We’re both very proud,” said Luarine, fussily smoothing her hands over an imagined crease in her skirt, not so much as batting an eyelid at her husband’s lack of enthusiasm. “I can’t wait for your graduation, Neidyasset. I’m sure you’ll be the talk of the town.”

Nadi, not sure what to say to that particular little performance-cum-threat, offered a respectful half-bow in response.

She was rewarded with a high, insincere laugh from Luarine. Istas gave no response whatsoever, save for crossing his arms, as though he were also waiting for the rigmarole to be over – though far more blatantly than Nadi was.

“So formal! Always so formal, our little Neidyasset.” Luarine eyed her up and down, taking in the mismatched boots, the scuffed trousers and oversized jumper, the goggles still perched atop Nadi’s head. “Though not so formally dressed, unfortunately. You’ll want to clean up before dinner.”

“Why? Do we have company?” Nadi fidgeted absently with the strap of her satchel, trying to not grind her teeth at the extended eye contact, the extended pantomime of politeness. She wanted nothing more than to disappear to her room, but her desire was subsumed beneath familial duty, beneath her mother’s pointed stare.

Like a butterfly on a board, she was pinned in place until Luarine decided otherwise.

“Though Talice will, unfortunately, not be joining us this Heartsease – she’s been asked to play a vital part in the ceremonies at the temple, can you imagine! Our Talice! – but the Lord Ainseelie has kindly lent us Veyris back for the holiday.” She failed to hide the note of distaste in her voice, despite the smile still firmly in place. “So she will be joining us. And I’ve invited the Lady Sabine’s family to dinner tonight. She, unfortunately, is otherwise engaged, but her sister and brother-in-law will be joining us! And their daughter, too – who I’m quite sure I told you about in my last letter.”

The letter had, if Nadi remembered correctly, made much of exactly how eligible Lady Sabine’s niece was. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from groaning. Yet another futile matchmaking dinner – and on her first evening home, too. What fun.

“So we must all be dressed appropriately, and on our best behaviour,” concluded Luarine, with a singularly pointed look at her daughter. “It’s very important to make a good impression. And, of course, we’ll be having family over for the next few nights after that – the Lord Ainseelie and some of his entourage,” again, the ill-hidden distaste, “tomorrow, I believe, and the Arganans the day after, And then, of course, it’s the family ball. I’ve taken the liberty of acquiring a suitable outfit for you, since I assume that you have failed to do so.”

Nadi ground her teeth a little harder, her mother’s tone sliding between her ribs more effectively than any dagger. “Thank you, Mother,” she managed after a moment, her voice perfectly flat. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“Yes, I thought so too. Anyway. Busy busy busy! An exciting few days ahead of us. And it’s lovely that you could join us. Finally. After your absence, the last few holidays.” There was no missing the icy note in Luarine’s voice. No missing her pointed disapproval, even buried as it was beneath layers of courtly courtesy.

“Mmh. Well. Academia’s time consuming, unfortunately,” lied Nadi, through her teeth. She’d spent Silver Night drinking copious amounts of sweet, spiced rum and doing shots of brightwine with the other Starspire postgrads in her student flat’s kitchen, until she’d passed out at the table in the wee hours of the morning. She’d spent King’s Day before that in the bed of some mathematics undergraduate, half-drunk and drowning her worries in easy, meaningless sex. “I’m glad I could return home for Heartsease, though.”

Another lie. Nadi felt sure her mother must know, because she’d never been much good at lying – but the polite, insincere smile pasted onto Luarine’s immaculately painted face never faltered.

Perhaps her mother hadn’t noticed. Perhaps Luarine just didn’t care, so long as the pretense at happy families was maintained.

“Luarine, dear,” interrupted Istas, before Luarine could launch into more barbed platitudes. “As thrilling as your entrance hall interrogation of our daughter is, perhaps you could save it for dinner? I’m sure she’d prefer to run along and get… cleaned up.” He, too, eyed her well-worn lab outfit, and the corner of one lip curled up in distaste. “She looks sorely in need of a bath, after all. And a change of clothes.”

Nadi tightened the hand around her wrist until she felt sure she must be cutting the circulation off, and dug the blunt nails of her other hand into her palm until it ached.

For a split second, Luarine’s expression cracked, and a look of frustrated loathing flashed across her face – though Nadi missed it, busy sinking nails into her own skin and staring into the middle distance. Then it was gone, tucked neatly behind her near-flawless mask once more. “Oh! Of course. Quite right, husband dearest. She must be quite desperate to refresh herself.” She regarded Nadi for a long moment, and then flapped a dismissive hand at her. “You are excused. I look forward to continuing our conversation at dinner.”

“Mother. Father.” Nadi bowed once more, a little more gracefully this time, and then fled.

She didn’t run, but she did walk faster than was probably seemly, her boots echoing against the marble in the cavernous entrance hall and the hallway leading out of it. Down a corridor to the right, a turn to the left, up a staircase spiralling hidden behind an innocuous door, out into another hallway on the second floor, a sharp right turn–

The door to her bedroom clicked shut behind her, and Nadi inhaled properly for the first time since setting foot in the house as she turned the lock.

It took a long moment of just remembering to breathe, her slumped against the solid wood of her door, before she found the energy to pull herself up. She wandered into the centre of the room and, looking around. It was exactly as she’d left it, last time she was home – the furniture lavish and elegant, dark wood and lacquer and metal, but sparse.

The four-poster bed dominated the room, draped with deep purple silks and beautifully embroidered linens. A writing desk sat under one silk-curtained window, along with a high-backed chair and her bags. In the corner was a tall, thin armoire, and a capacious chest of drawers.

Otherwise, the room was empty – no rugs on the flagstone floors, no personal effects, no artwork. What little clutter she’d had was currently occupying every available surface in her student room, leaving her bedroom at home looking distinctly un-lived-in. Which was appropriate, really, given how rarely she returned to it

Nadi sighed, and set her satchel down on the desk, with a dull thump that echoed in the empty, high-ceilinged room. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned her familiar to her shoulder.

An irritated-looking raven popped into being with an angry squawk, nearly sliding off her shoulder before righted himself – hitting her in the face with one large wing, and grabbing at one of her many earrings with his beak for balance. Even once he was settled, he kept tugging on it, nibbling at the point of one long, obsidian ear until Nadi swatted him off her shoulder.

“Vyrrd,” Nadi chided, without any sort of heat in her voice. She tugged her goggles off her head, setting them down on the desk beside her bag, and dragged a hand over the close-cropped fuzz of her glittering, silvery hair. “Fucking hells, though, right? Fucking hells. Encounter one survived. Fifteen minutes down, four days to go.”

Vyrrd ruffled his wings at her, indignantly, from his new perch on the footboard of her four-poster bed.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Mother bitches terribly when you’re a rat, though, so, you know. Suck it up for a few days. We’re both making sacrifices here. I’ll give you pizza after.” A suspicious croak. “Loads of pizza. I promise.” A less suspicious croak. “As much pizza as you want. Which is gonna be like half a slice, because rats have super tiny stomachs. Dumbass.”

She toed her mismatched boots off and left them by the end of the bed, padding over in her socks to the old, elaborately-carved wardrobe in the corner. When she opened it, it was already full of the clothes she’d brought home for her visit – the staff must have at least partially unpacked for her. The thought sent her stomach into an uncomfortable curl. She wasn’t a fan of other people touching her stuff.

Hanging on the far right of the rail, though, was the outfit her mother had mentioned. Nadi took it out, and held it up to the refracted light of the crystalline chandelier, appraising it with a critical eye.

The shirt was thin, bordering on sheer, a deep, cool charcoal that highlighted the blue undertones of her obsidian skin. It was unadorned, so as not to detract from the suit it was designed to accompany – a darkly iridescent, exquisitely tailored waistcoat and trousers. The fabric of the slim trousers caught the light in unusual ways as Nadi twisted the hanger back and forth, the dark fabric picking up oil-slick hints of green, blue, purple, and pink in every crease and fold. The waistcoat went a step further, the front covered entirely in exquisite, carefully-arranged raven feathers, sleek and gorgeous, its fastenings disguised beneath the plumage.

Hung next to it was a jacket, no doubt also carefully tailored to her measurements, made of the same iridescent fabric as the pants and the back of the waistcoat. It was lined with a silk so deeply purple-blue it was almost black, and buttoned up to the throat with silver buttons stamped with the Ainseelie crest.

“The bitch’s got good taste in clothes, if nothing else,” murmured Nadi, running a finger down the front of the waistcoat and sighing at the texture of feathers against skin. “And you’ll match beautifully, Vyrrd, huh? Lucky you.”

Vyrrd, now underneath the bed and undoubtedly hunting for months-old crumbs, communicated his disinterest in Drow fashion with a half-hearted croak.

A cursory check of the wardrobe floor found a new pair boots, sturdy and ankle-high, polished to a mirror shine. There was new jewellery in the jewellery box on her desk, too, as Nadi had known there would be. No new earrings or rings – her mother had given up on that particular battle a while ago, irritably resigned to Nadi’s assortment of diamond studs and platinum hoops and mismatched finger jewellery – but there was a new string of diamonds, so small they’d do little more than catch the light in a fine sparkle, long enough to wrap several times around one wrist.

“Pretty,” she murmured, absently, testing the drape of it over her fingers and tilting her hand back and forth to make it catch the light. It glittered, beautifully, like a line of tiny stars across the inky darkness of her skin. It would turn into a constellation when worn, she had no doubt, throwing delicate points of light across the oily darkness of her clothing.

She dropped it back in the jewellery box, pleased but disinterested, and wandered over to join Vyrrd in poking around under the bed.

There, directly under where her pillow would lie on the mattress above, was her faithful old loose flagstone. Or rather, loosened flagstone. She’d rather deliberately cracked one corner of the enormous slab in her youth, and pried it up to carve out a small hollow beneath in which to stash anything she didn’t want her mother’s prying eyes to find.

She was pleased to discover it as undisturbed as ever – though she had no doubts that if her Luarine had found it, it would have been the first thing out her mouth the minute Nadi walked through the door.

Nudging aside a couple of books, a sheaf of papers, and a small pouch, she pulled free a heavy bottle of amber liquid. Dwarvish whiskey, old and extortionately expensive, pilfered unnoticed from her father’s collection several years earlier. It was still half-full, and Nadi hummed happily, standing up and letting it swing idly by the neck from her fingertips as she padded over to the ensuite bathroom door.

The bath had been filled, no doubt by the same attentive servants who had feverishly unpacked her belongings whilst she’d been waylaid by her parents. The water in the claw-footed tub steamed faintly. It was probably hot enough to nearly scald, just the way she liked it. It was both gratifying and uncomfortable to realise that someone in this godforsaken house knew her tastes well enough to hew so closely to them, down to even her bathing preferences.

After several years of an – admittedly high-class – student lifestyle, such luxuries seemed both foreign and awkward, an unexpected and delightful-yet-discomforting indulgence.

Nadi set the bottle of spirits gently down on the floor by the edge of the tub, and considered the water for a moment. Her gaze settled on the slow curls of steam from the surface, unfocusing as she tracked the random, meandering path of the vapour. Another increment of tension eased from her shoulders at the minor dissociation, and she exhaled slowly, letting her eyes fall shut.

Her internal deliberation about whether to strip off there and then and climb straight into the hot water, however, was interrupted by an insistent knocking at her bedroom door.

Eyes snapping open, Nadi stifled a groan, shoulders hunching up once more. “Coming!” she called, loudly, making sure to kick the door to the bathroom closed behind her as she left to answer. “Gimmie a moment!”

A cursory glance around her room confirmed nothing offensive in view – the flagstone section had been replaced, Vyrrd was still busy beneath the bed, and the bottle of illicit whiskey was out of sight behind the door of the en-suite. Satisfied within reason, Nadi braced herself, and unlocked the door to her room before pulling it open.

She needn’t have bothered with the pre-emptive stress. No sooner had she opened the door, than Veryris had thrown herself through it, dragging her younger sister into a tight embrace. “Nadi! You’re back! Finally. It’s so good to see you.”

Her vision was, abruptly, filled with the lower quarter of her sister’s head – a deep purple-charcoal cheek and long, silvery braids twisted into an immaculately elegant hairstyle. Her elder sister was everything she wasn’t; long-haired where she was close-cropped, tall where she was short, willowy where she was stocky, sociable where she was awkward.

Sometimes it seemed hard to believe they were genetically related, with the differences as stark as they were.

Nadi tolerated the embrace for a polite, painful count of five, before disentangling herself. “Vey,” she said, voice soft and uncharacteristically warm, despite the lingering discomfort of unanticipated physical contact still prickling across her skin. “It’s good to see you too. How’ve you been? Surviving under the watchful eye of the dread Lord Ainseelie?”

Veyris laughed, a light, high-pitched sound that was significantly more sincere than her mother’s. “I’ve got my townhouse, thank you very much, so I’m hardly under his eye. Or anyone’s, for that matter. And Uncle Rhyldyn is far more interesting to be around than Mother and Father, so you needn’t worry about me. The internship is a dream. I’m learning more about politics than I could ever have dreamed– and I’m almost starting to believe Mother’s theories about him handing off the Ainseelie title to me. I mean, he’s still unmarried, well into middle age, and the kind of duties he’s having me perform–”

She cut herself off, eyes bright with obvious excitement. “Ahem..” Her cheeks darkened a little, clearly embarrassed with herself at such an enthusiastic, unseemly outpouring – enough so that even Nadi could spot it. “Anyway, enough about me. How’re you? How’s school been? You must tell me everything! I’ve been surviving on Mother’s gossip and parliamentary intrigue for months and, I must say, it’s not half as interesting as the stories you come back with.”

For a moment, Nadi considered spilling her guts to her big sister. About Professor Egreth, about the academic suspension, about the Feywild and the strange people in it. About the tiefling coming to crash at her dorm. Or even about just some of it, just the funny bits, just about her brief and bizarre trip to the Feywild in all its improbability and alien beauty.

Veyris would have loved the it, she knew, if only for the drama and high elegance of it all. Her sister had always loved the fey. Or had, at least, loved the romanticised, fairy-tale version of what the fey could be, learned through childhood books and second-hand stories.

In the end, though, Nadi bit her tongue. “Still haven’t got Jazreth expelled,” she said instead, with a toothy grin and a slight pang in her ribs at the lie-by-omission. “I accidentally set a water elemental loose in the lab about a month ago, so. That’s a thing. The vice-provost just loves me, right now.”

“Oh, gods.” Veyris made a hand gesture commonly used to ask for Bahamut’s protection, only half-jokingly. “You’re going to give me grey hairs, Nadi. Grey hairs. Uncle Rhyldyn will ask me where my beautiful white hair has gone, and I shall have to blame you.” Her lips, though, curled into a co-conspiratorial smile. “You’ve got to tell me all about it. After dinner. And over some kind of alcohol, since I know you’re good at swindling that from the serving staff – so I’ve something to look forward to, after Mother’s no doubt extensive interrogation of us both..”

“I’ll bother the cook into giving us some of the good wine. Assuming Mother’s managed to keep same cook as the last time I was here. And assuming I survive dinner,” grumbled Nadi, her good mood soured by the reminder of what was to come. “Mother’s trying to set me up with some nice, eligible Drow heir, again. Because gods forbid I be allowed to finish my fucking doctoral studies without the promise of wedding bells at the end.” She rolled her eyes so hard it hurt.

“Bahamut’s balls, Nadi,” groaned Veyris. Sympathetic as she was to her sister’s exasperation at their mother’s machinations, she found the endless whining more than a little wearing. “Yes, Mother’s endless matchmaking gets a little tiring, but do stop complaining. Or– I don’t know! Do an Aunt Vierayema, or something! Take a year studying abroad, find someone to marry who’s wealthy but just disreputable enough that you stop getting invited to dinner other every week, and then settle down in that ivory tower of yours for the rest of your life, blissfully free of familial bothering. Honestly.”

Nadi’s lips twitched, somewhere between amusement and irritation. “Or find someone very disreputable, and do an Uncle Tobith, and stop getting invited to any dinners, family or otherwise, ever.”

“Absolutely not.” Veyris levelled a finger at her sister, abruptly deadly serious. “Absolutely, under no circumstances, do an Uncle Tobith. Because you’re my sister, and I love you, and I do not want to deal with the enormous mess that would be you getting disinherited and then me trying to re-inherit you when I’m Lady Ainseelie.” Her lips twisted with distaste. “And also because if you run off with a tiefling called Delirium, of all the gods-awfully tacky names to choose, I’m not sure I’ll want to re-inherit you.”

“I was joking!” Nadi raised her hands in a gesture of truce. “I was joking, Vey. I’m not planning on running off with a tiefling any time soon. Or getting disinherited.” She pursed her lips, expression turning bitter. “The family fortune is an excellent incentive to stay on Mother’s good side. Trust me.”

She was abruptly glad, though, that she hadn’t mentioned the Feywild, or any of the people she’d met in it, to Vey. An elf with more knives than manners, a tiefling with entirely the wrong sort of manners, a halfling in the employ of the Baba Jaga, and a half-elven bastard… She could imagine what Veyris might have said about them and, though she couldn’t say why, her sister’s imagined disapproval left her feeling– unbalanced. She’d met this bizarre group of strangers once, unwillingly, in deeply awkward circumstances, and had left with no debt towards them whatsoever. And yet…

And yet.

“Anyway,” Nadi said, her mood abruptly soured for no reason she could put her finger on. “Given I haven’t pulled a Vierayema yet, I should get ready for dinner. I guess. Brace myself for whatever new idiot Mother’s found for me. No point getting myself mildly to moderately disowned if I’m not going to do it in style.”

Veyris sighed. “Yes,” she agreed, with a tired flap of her fingers. “Go– I don’t know. Have a soak in the bath, or something.” She was familiar with her sister’s sharp tongue and mercurial temper, but that didn’t make it any less wearing to deal with – especially when she’d clearly stumbled across some conversational pitfall so well-hidden she hadn’t even known it existed. “And, Nadi? Cheer up, for the love of Bahamut. It’s a few days of dinners and parties, not a bloody death sentence.”

“Not for you, maybe,” said Nadi, darkly, but the corner of her lip twitched all the same. Veyris stuck her tongue out, and Nadi responded in kind, her poor mood lifting for a heartbeat at the childish display of fondness. “Anyway. Fuck off, Vey, I want a bath.”

“As her highness demands,” demurred Veyris, sweeping out of the bedroom door with a grace Nadi had never seen in her before. Clearly, hanging around Uncle Rhyldon had been rubbing off on her mannerisms. “See you at dinner, sister dearest!”

The door clicked shut behind Veyris before Nadi could respond. She was left standing by her desk, in silence, staring at the satchel and the stack of books upon it.

She was seized, suddenly, by the urge to push them off – to sweep everything off, the bag, the books, the papers, the quill and ink, the candles, in a single violent motion, send it all crashing to the ground. To turn it all into a ruined heap on the floor, to scream and not stop screaming–

She picked up the book atop the stack, instead, and padded absently back into to the bathroom. The muscles in her jaw and neck were so tight they hurt, a dull ache at the edge of her senses. Her shoulders were up around her ears once more, and no amount of willing would push them down again.

The bath was still hot, at least. She set the book down on the tiled bathroom floor, next to the bottle of whiskey, shedding her clothes in a graceless heap. The water burned her feet a little, as she stepped in, but she ignored it, gritting her teeth against the bite and sinking her entire body down into it until she was submerged deep enough to scream.

It was only when her lungs started to ache, oxygen-starved, that she resurfaced, gasping for air through the near-scalding water rolling down her face.

Tilting her head back until it was resting on the rim of the tub, she stuck an arm over the edge, groping for the neck of the bottle of Dwarvish whiskey. She needed a drink, clearly. Being so tense hat she was already resorting to screaming where no one could hear was a poor omen for the long weekend ahead.

No, what she needed was clearly a long soak in an obscenely hot bath, and a drink. Or two. Or three. And perhaps a chapter or two of dense arcane theory, as well. That ought to be enough to numb her to the dinner ahead, to leech the tension out of her shoulders and the building headache out the base of her skull.

Her questing fingers found the whiskey, and she grasped it, thumbing the cap off without looking. Sitting up just enough that she wouldn’t choke on it, she took a generous sip, exhaling slowly as the burn of it worked its way down her throat to the pit of her belly. The combination of heat and alcohol began turning her muscles to soft clay, and she let her eyes slip closed for a second – luxuriating in the sensation, trying to grasp at the singular moment of thoughtless peace and keep it.

The moment lingered for a heartbeat, and then it slipped through her grasping fingers, ephemeral.

Sighing in disappointment, Nadi took another sip of the whiskey, and traced the glyph for Mage Hand in the air. She murmured the activation word, and hummed satisfaction as the spectral fingers grasped the book, lifting it up over the bath and flipping to the page she’d last left off. Dense arcane theory it was, then – or rather, it was that or masturbation, and she really wasn’t in the mood.

Arranging herself a little more comfortably in the bath, the heat of the water seeping into her bones and the whiskey turning her head pleasantly numb, she exhaled slowly, and began to read.

[that-fannerd-with-the-glasses]

We're Superheroes, What Could Happen? - Chapter Three

Pairing: Wrightworth/Narumitsu

Rating: Teen and Up

Wearily running his hand over his eyes, he cleared his throat, preparing to put on his best customer service voice and picked up the phone, pressing the button to accept the call.

“Thank you for calling Paysurance, this is Phoenix Wright speaking. How may I be of assistance--”

“Five unanswered texts, three missed calls.”  He stopped speaking, abruptly cut off by the familiar voice speaking to him. “And at last, he finally responds. Remind me to just go ahead and bypass your cell phone the next time I need to get ahold of you.”

Phoenix blinked in surprise, sitting up somewhat in his chair which let off a slight creak as he did so. Of all the people he’d expected to be calling him today, his husband had certainly not been one of them. On his own phone maybe, but the company phone? Highly unlikely.

“Huh? Miles--”

“And before you say anything, yes. I’m well aware that this is the company phone and I’m likely holding up anyone else from reaching you,” The voice continued on, Phoenix’s ears picking up what sounded like water sloshing around in the background, something squeaking alongside it. “But it's not as if I had much of an option when I wasn’t otherwise reaching you. I trust there’s a good reason for that, yes?”

“Well actually, yeah. I don’t exactly have my cell on me right now--” He heard a scoff, and pulled his chair up further to the desk, resting his elbow on it. “Not for the reason you think, I swear. Payne just got tired of seeing it on my desk so he made me leave it with his secretary until my shift’s over.”

“...you’re not serious.”

“I wish I wasn’t.” Another splash sounded on the other end of the phone, followed by a delighted squeak. “Trying to insist I wasn’t even using it that much was like talking to a brick wall, which is to say--pointless. Uh, anyways…”

He craned his neck forward, inconspicuously peering outside his cubicle for any sign that a supervisor or--Heaven forbid, his boss might be walking by. So far, so good.

“--what’s going on with you? Everything okay over there?”

“I don’t know why you believe it wouldn’t be.” A humph, more splashing and squeaking. “Perhaps I just wanted to call and see how your afternoon was going, I’m allowed to do that aren’t I?”

“Hah, right. Five texts and three calls just for that?” Phoenix leaned forward and suppressed a low hiss, his lower back groaning in protest at the sudden movement.   “Even you’re not that extravagant, Miles. Seriously, what’s really going on? Nothing’s broken again, I hope.”

There was a pause. Silence, save for the occasional splash and baby giggles.

“Miles?”

More silence. And what might be a rubber duck squeaking, it was hard to tell. That was answer enough for Phoenix, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, biting back a groan.

“…something’s broken, isn’t it?”

“Nothing is broken, don’t just assume that’s why--”

“Kinda hard not to when half our appliances are falling apart.” Picking up his by now lukewarm mug of coffee, Phoenix finished off what little amount was left before setting it back down. “What was it this time, did the vacuum finally decide to expire on you?”

“Surprisingly no, it's still intact since I last used it.” There was a pop, the splashing now replaced by the sound of water going down the drain. A loud squall of protest followed, as Miles let out a small huff. “No, I fear the laundry machine is our culprit this time. I can’t get it to drain, I’m suspecting it may be clogged.”

“Again? Didn’t we just have that fixed like...last week?”

“Yes. We did.  Though at this rate, I doubt it’d be worth trying to repair it again. We have had it for a long time, after all.” A sigh, another squeak from the duck, which seemed to quell the squalling. “I’m thinking it may actually be high time we consider getting in a new one, or at least looking. I know of a few places that are conducting sales--”

“And unless those sales happen to be a hundred percent off everything, then you can forget about it.” Phoenix sighed. “Seriously, even with the discounts applied we’d still have to pay a crap ton to have someone come and install it. That’s just not something we can afford right now.”

“Well, what else do you suggest then? Because I’m not about to call a repairman again, considering how utterly pointless that would be.” There was a thud as something seemed to have hit the floor. Probably the rubber duck, considering the cry of alarm that came after it.  

“Then don’t, I’ll just--I don’t know, I’ll take a look at it myself or something--” He gave a second glance outside the cubicle, above it this time, and gasped slightly at the sight of his boss erratically emerging from his office, a fistful of papers clutched in his hand.  “Listen, Miles, not that this conversation isn’t y’know...fun, but I’ve actually gotta go now. Do you think we could maybe finish discussing this at a...well, better time?”

“Ah, very well. If you say so.” A particularly booming squeak from the duck this time, the poor thing sounding as if it was having the life choked out of it. So it’d been picked up then, what a relief to have that much confirmed. “I need to go pick up the children from school anyways. I should’ve been out the door five minutes ago but someone decided it’d be hilarious to help Papa in the garden today.”

An all-too pleased giggle sounded adjacent to Miles’ voice, as if to back up his statement. He sighed tiredly, Phoenix snorting.

“She doesn’t sound the least bit sorry for it. I doubt you’re gonna get much of an apology out of her.”

“I doubt it as well, anyhow. I’ll let you go now, see you when you get back tonight. "

“Yeah, right. See you then.”

READ ON A03

[unlockthelore]

Dream Come True - Part II

As much as ____ liked to tease Yumi about her “childish” ways, there was a simplicity and beauty to letting go of the stressors that kept her bound to the circular rotation of the day. Yumi didn’t want to drink her sorrows away and complain over a hot meal, she wanted to live and that’s what ___ appreciated the most about her.

Hand in hand, running across the sand with their shoes tucked in the backseat of Yumi’s car, blouses untucked and hair loose like they were children again. It was late, the sky painted a soft orange flecked with violets and deep blues as the stars began to make their grand appearance.

Warm crisp autumn wind and laughter on the breeze, the waves lapping at their feet as they goaded one another into a game of tag.

True, crunching numbers wasn’t the most exciting job but it did put money in ____’s account and kept her fed. Yumi, with all of her joy and presence, made her feel alive. Once they’d laugh themselves silly, and their clothes were wet from falling more than once into the tide, ___ suggested that they return to the car to dry off.

It was getting later and the warm wind was cooling as evening fell to night, the pair sitting on the car roof and staring up at the stars. Street lamps lining the desolate road on either side cast a fluorescent white glow on the roads, shadows dancing and the gentle hum of insects coupled with the crashing waves and chirping insects.

Yumi’s arm hooked in ___’s own, her head resting on her shoulder and a faint smile offered that was received with a kinder one.

“Are we going to talk about you sleeping?”

___ sighed. She knew that would resurface eventually but she hoped that it would be on the drive home when Yumi was too sleepy to prolong the conversation. “It’ll sort itself out,” she mumbled softly, rubbing her cheek against the top of Yumi’s head. “I mean, what’s the worst that’ll happen?”

“You fall asleep during a meeting and start drooling in front of Minamino-san, ruining the chance of ever having a friendship with him because he’ll always remember you as drool face?”

The silence was deafening and slowly ____ pulled away to level Yumi with a flat stare.

“Your imagination is really frightening, you know that?”

“Think I should be a writer?” Yumi grinned, tucking her knuckle under her chin as she struck a thoughtful pose. “I think that I’d strike the fear in the hearts of many with my thoughts.”

___ snorted, poking Yumi’s cheek and twisting her finger around. “Or mesmerize them with what goes on in that head of yours.”

Yumi whined and batted away her finger with a pout. The pair dissolving into laughter and leaning against one another again. After a moment of silence, Yumi shifted closer and squeezed ____’s upper arm.

“You don’t have to get in the middle of Sanada and I anymore, I know that you don’t particularly like him.”

____’s eyes softened and she sighed. “I’ll get in the middle of you and Sanada as often as I have to if it helps you feel comfortable. Just because I’m going through something doesn’t mean that I can’t be there for you.” She tipped her head to one side, trying to catch sight of Yumi’s eyes. It wasn’t right for her to look so down and although Sanada was at the root of it, ___ knew that there were some things that Yumi had to face on her own. Squeezing the hand caught between her bicep and side, ___ smiled down at her and tapped her head against Yumi’s own, spurring a fleeting peal of laughter.

“I’m just glad that you have more friends besides me outside of work… but it would be good if you had some more inside,” Yumi pointed out, tipping her head to one side. “You know everyone’s names, how to talk to them, but nobody really knows you besides what they see.”

Thinking back to the earlier lunch that they had with Minamino, the way that he seemed interested in hearing more about ___’s escapades from Yumi’s point of view, ___ frowned. Was she really that much of a mystery? She certainly didn’t think so but taking about herself was a little embarrassing and difficult. How much could she say that wouldn’t make her seem narcissistic? And how little would she say without seeming stuck-up?

“It’s hard,” ___ sighed. “If I was more like you, maybe I”d be able to talk to people easier.”

“Well hey, you sassed Minamino like you sass me, so you’re off to a good start.”

___ groaned and slapped a hand over her forehead, tilting her head back. “Don’t remind me of that. I didn’t even mean to. I just don’t get how someone responsible for so many people and themselves could forget lunch of all things!”

Yumi laughed softly and squeezed __’s upper arm. “That’s just the caretaker in you, ____. You’re always looking out for me, I guess you just kinda.. Projected.”

“Onto our supervisor of all people?”

“Well, I didn’t say that you chose the right person to project onto, now did I?”

___ rolled her eyes, pulling her knee to her chest and staring out into the distance. The horizon seemed to carry on forever but she knew that somewhere there was someone else looking out at the same view. Perhaps they didn’t have someone like Yumi at their side, talking and enjoying their presence, and maybe they were alone with their thoughts or hoping someone else was looking.

Maybe they were lonely.

“Earth to ____, Earth to ____!”

The view of the horizon was interrupted by the swipe of Yumi’s hand in front of ___’s eyes. With a few quick blinks, she turned her attention back to her friend who was shivering.

“It’s getting kinda cold, yeah? Get the blanket for me out the back?”

___ Huffed. “Alright, alright.”

As she slid down the side and went to the back to pull out the blanket, she paused. It was a quilt, the same one that her mother made for Yumi after she brought her by to introduce her new friend. A little embarrassing considering that her mother was treating her like she was in elementary school. Making tea, snacks, talking about how she was doing and all — but it was nice. It made her think that this would work out that being in Sarayashiki would be a good thing for her.

Like a dream.

And she met Yumi who made every day like a dream just by existing.

The quilt, checkered red and green, adorned with flowers in the patches sewn atop of it — it reminded her of him.

“Hey Yumi?” ___ asked as she climbed back up with the quilt tucked in her arm.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think that Minamino gets lonely too?”

Yumi snickered. “Now you’ve got an interest in how Minamino feels?”

___ pinched her cheek. “Not like that,” she scolded gently, setting the quilt around them and tucking her knees close. “I’m just thinking… it’s got to be lonely at the top, huh?”

— 幽☆遊☆白書 —

The drive home is a lull with the sound of Yumi’s quiet snoring and the gentle rumbling of the car. __’s cheek resting on her propped up fist as she gazed at the road ahead. Street lamps lining the road lit their path and made the yellow lines on the asphalt shimmer. It might not have been the best idea to stay out this late but she could hardly deny Yumi the comfort. They did have a stressful day after all and every moment should count. Though no matter how much she reasoned to herself that it was the wisest choice from a friendly point of view, her sleep schedule was going to suffer.

Oh well, it wasn’t as if she was getting much sleep anyway.

Pressing both her hands into the worn leather of the steering wheel, she took in a deep breath then sighed, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. And when they opened, she glanced up and squinted.

What was that?

Leaning closer, her chin brushing against the top of the steering wheel, she tried to get a better look at the speck drifting lazily across the sky overhead. It couldn’t have been a shooting star or a bird, it stood out against the night sky and seemed to be flying. And she didn’t know of any birds nearby that were pink and blue. Trying to get a better look at it, she shifted to look out her side mirror but it was drifting too far for her to make out what it was.

With a defeated sigh deflating her chest, she pressed back against the headrest and listened to Yumi’s sleep mumbling. Maybe she just needed to get a bit more rest. She was starting to make up things floating across the sky after all.

A soft chime caught her attention and she glanced away from the road to her cellphone vibrating in the drink holder beside Yumi’s own. Bracing one hand against the steering wheel, she reached with the other and bumped her fingers against the screen, pressing the green call button before tapping the speaker. A soft cry of her name making her wince and quickly tap the volume button, casting a cautious sideways look to Yumi who stirred for half a second then slumped against the window with a soft sigh.

“____, are you there?” The person on the other end called.

“Yes, I’m here,” ___ said with ease, exasperation underlying her words. Of course it would be her brother who was calling. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t check the caller ID before she picked up. “What do you want, Souta?”

“Ouch!” Souta said, and she could just picture the hurt expression that he was making. “Is that any way to talk to your little brother?”

“When he’s being a bother?” ___ asked, taking a dramatic pause for effect. “Yes.”

The shuffling and sputtering on the other end put a smile on her face and she rolled her eyes. Souta hadn’t grown out of his childish habits but he was far too old for her to reprimand him all the time. It didn’t mean that she was going to baby him but at the very least, she could humor him.

“So what do you want, I’m driving y’know.”

“Well, I just need a favor…”

“If you need money, call our parents.”

“Wh—“ Souta’s voice pitched and cracked before rising to a screech. “What would make you think that’s why?!”

“Because I’m your older sister, and I know how you sound when you want something that you know you’re not going to get,” ___ explained with a half-hearted shrug that she knew he couldn’t see. “So, what is it?”

“Hmph. Well, what I was going to ask was if you could housesit for me.”

“… Housesit?”

It would have been easy to say no and end the conversation there but curiosity got the best of her. Souta had moved not too recently and was happy enough to show off his new place although she couldn’t attend because she was on vacation. But he neglected to ever mention where he stayed or just why he moved there. It was a little curious but her parents were simply happy that he decided to move on with his life and be a “real” adult. Whatever that meant.

“I’ve got a trip that I can’t miss and I really need you to do me this favor,” Souta pleaded, his voice softening with a whine. “My neighbors are really nice and they don’t bother anyone.”

“Shame that they have you for a neighbor then.”

“___!”

She sighed and pressed her finger to her temple. Of course, she didn’t want to leave her own home unattended for long but there was less likelihood of someone breaking in. Although she didn’t want to take the chance of that either.

“You do know that I have a job in the city, I can’t just up and live in someone else’s home.”

“Well, why not just go there a few days out of the week and my place on the other? Besides, where’s your job?”

“At Hatanaka Corporation, you know this.”

“I swear I forgot… and let’s see.. Hatanaka…”

From the other end of the line, the sound of pages shuffling and muffled cursing punctuated with soft sighs and quiet grumbling provided a necessary distraction.

“So, how’s your job going there..?” Souta suddenly asked, the soft whine and pleading gone from his voice replaced with the gentle tone that reminded her of their mother. “You don’t really talk about it all that much when I call.”

“Because you don’t call often, and there’s more important things to talk about,” ___ reasoned.

“So are you saying that I should call more often?”

“No way, that’d just be a nuisance.”

“You’re really trying to hurt me with these one-liners, aren’t you?”

Amiable laughter passed between them and ___ shifted in her seat, her lips curving into a smile as she hooked her thumbs in the steering wheel and flexed her fingers.

“How’s your aches and pains?”

___ sighed. “How did you know about that?”

“You said you were driving and that requires holding onto something for a long time, so I just assumed…” His voice trailed off and she knew where this conversation was going. It was one that she had often when her parents were worrying that she worked herself too hard. “If your tendonitis is acting up again, then you should try and relax. You don’t want to hurt yourself, right?”

Glancing aside at Yumi, she smiled faintly. “Don’t worry, I have people looking out for me here so I’ll be fine. Now come on and quit stalling, what about this favor?”

A soft grumbling huff came from the end of the line before Souta whined softly. “That’s the last time I worry about you,” he lied, shifting around papers. “Alright, so Hatanaka Corporation… my place isn’t that far from it. Actually, you should be able to commute a bit easier. You have a car, right?”

“Nope, I’m using Yumi’s,” ___ said, wincing when she noticed her slip-up.

“Yumi!? Whose that? A new friend of yours?!”

“Hey, don’t sound so excited! I have friends too!”

Yumi sniffled and ___ froze as she shifted in her sleep, slowly sitting up and rubbing at her eyes. “___, What’s wrong? Did we crash?”

“… Why would I be talking casually if we crashed?” ___ asked in a deadpan, shaking her head and swatting at Yumi’s arm. “Go back to sleep, you’re tired.”

Souta was blissfully quiet as Yumi fussed before eventually succumbing back to sleep, curled up under the quilt. When her soft snoring filled the air again, Souta sighed.

“So she’s the one that mom mentioned before? Your friend from work?”

“Mhm, she’s just as energetic as you, you two could get along well.”

“Maybe I’ll see her when I come back for my keys when you’re done house-sitting,” Souta chirped happily.

____ Rolled her eyes. “I never agreed, y’know.”

“I know, I know. I’ll leave the keys for you in the mail slot taped to the top…”

“Hey! Hang on, Souta—“ ___ interjected.

Blissfully unaware of ignoring her plight, Souta continued on with a hum. “I don’t have any plants or pets, so you don’t have to keep track of anything. Feel free to stay whenever you want but check in every so often, okay? Thanks sis!”

Before she could form a response, the line went dead and she stared aimlessly at the road ahead. The lights of the city making a glow against the sky in the distance and showing her the way home and to what would be yet another favor for her younger brother.

“Your brother is weird, ___,” Yumi muttered.

___ sighed, smiling exasperatedly. “Tell me about it..”

— 幽☆遊☆白書 —

Kurama sighed, hooking his finger in the knot of his tie and pulling to loosen the proverbial corporate noose around his neck. He didn’t abhor his job but keeping up appearances left him with a degree of discomfort lingering throughout the day. Accustomed to clothing that allowed him to breathe and move freely, the stiffness in his suits and his shirts was difficult to slip into especially when he was not operating under the moniker of Minamino Shuuichi. With a bit of doing, it was easier and he could find it in himself to breathe and meld into the crowds of people flooding the intersections and walking the streets of Sarayashiki.

Botan’s appearance was both a surprise and bound to occur, and while he didn’t expect her to take the inquiry too seriously, it was odd. A haunting melody filling his ears as he recalled his co-worker singing the familiar summoning ritual known and told to children of the Ningenkai. While most considered it to be a simple nursery rhyme, a spoken spell to ward off bad dreams, summoning a baku was no laughing matter. He clenched his jaw as he remembered her yawn and the droop of her eyelids as she tried to stay awake throughout the day. He hardly doubted that one night of calling the baku would have left her so exhausted but apparitions were a greedy bunch.

And sating their hunger was a foolish endeavor.

“Don’t worry, Kurama,” Botan had said with her trademark cheery grin, perched on her oar and looking out at the city skyline. A myriad of colors reflecting in her pink eyes, crinkling at the corner as she flashed him another smile. “I’m sure that it’s just a small spirit so it can easily be banished.”

He nodded at the time. Watching her go in a tentative silence as the sounds of the city washed over him and drew him back to reality. There was nothing to do but allow the Reikai to monitor activity and report any sightings that he might have had — powerlessness that left him far more agitated than he’d let on in the ferry girl’s presence or any other aside from Hiei.

The fire demon was likely waiting for him inside his apartment, a welcomed constant that Kurama needed for the day ins and out with balancing who he was to the public versus who he was in private. Despite Hiei’s surly countenance, he did make for good company once he was settled. And he certainly made himself at home there.

Hiking the shopping bag on his wrist, Kurama made his way across the intersection and toward the apartment building looming in the distance. Climbing the steps gave him a chance to calm himself and loosen his attire, pulling his hair out of its ponytail and undoing his tie. Toying with the buttons as he each one attempted to snag on his finger or a thread in his shirt. A mumbling sigh parting his lips as he reached his floor and opened the door allowing him to walk through and navigate the corridor of doors.

A cool and crisp wind gusted through from the open balcony and he breathed in deeply, pressing his hand to the side of his head to keep his hair from whipping around. Dark red strands obscuring his vision for a moment and a soft gasp caught his attention as he looked up, seeing her.

Still dressed in work attire with her shoes in one hand and backpack shouldered, here hair out of its usual style and feet a bit dirty as if she was walking on gravel.

“___-san?” Kurama asked, tipping his head to one side.

“Minamino-san…” She whispered, her voice softer than the wind. “I didn’t know that you lived here.”

“You either,” Kurama admitted, meeting her half way as she approached.

She chuckled softly and waved her hand. “No, no. I don’t live here. I’m actually doing a favor for someone but it’s late, so I might as well stay the night…” With a sheepish shrug and a lopsided smile that made Kurama want to smile in return. Like this, she looked younger and softer than he expected. A glimpse of something that he only caught when she was pouting and trying to cover it up or talking to Fujimoto Yumi.

“Were you out shopping?” She asked, gesturing to the bag in his hand.

Remembering the weight and what was inside, Kurama lifted the bag up and opened it, pulling out a box of chai tea blend. “I was, I thought that it would help you,” he said, offering it to her. “It’s lucky that I came across you.”

“… You bought this for me?” She said in disbelief, her voice pitching as she scrambled to take it from his hand, their fingers brushing and a jolt of electricity coursing through Kurama’s skin. He pulled his hand back slowly and stared at the tip of his finger before glancing at her as she read over the box and analyzed the contents.

“This is one of those expensive brands isn’t it? I can’t take this.”

He remembered hearing the rumors of how frugal she was and it was a little charming to see her like this.

“I insist,” Kurama paused, wondering if he should continue with how panicked she looked, then adding on. “It’ll help you work ethic so you’re not falling asleep throughout the day.”

The look of surprise on her face coupled with the slight pout and narrowed eyes made him want to laugh. Teasing people was something that he hadn’t grow out of and it was fun when it was someone new.

“Says the guy who doesn’t bring his own lunch to work,” She murmurs, turning away to face the railing and lean against it, her gaze flicking down to the box as she studied it intently. It took a moment and then another before what she said seemed to dawn on her. “Wait, I mea—“

Kurama waved his hand, smiling faintly. “It’s alright,” he says with a hint of amusement at her flustered face. “You aren’t the first to talk to me about my eating habits and I doubt that you’ll be the last.”

Her eyebrow quirked at that then her gaze averted as if she were trying to debate on whether or not she should say anything. He almost hoped that she would. Exhaustion was one of the best ways to find sleep and if she was tired from talking, then she wouldn’t have time to say the ritual. With the box held tenderly i her hands, she shifted slightly and her bag fell to hang from her elbow before she pulled back and let it sit on the ground. Her shoes dropped beside it and Kurama tilted his head at the change in demeanor as she cradled the box between her hands, her gaze sweeping over it once then twice.

“Does it bother you that much?” He asked, leaning against the railing himself after setting the shopping bag by his feet. “You don’t have to pay me back, it isn’t as if it’s a loan.”

She chuckled softly, her head dropping as she brought the box closer to rest her forehead against it. “I really hope it’s not a loan. I don’t think I’m paid enough to actually cover one.”

“I’ll have a talk with finances tomorrow then,” Kurama teased, rewarded with a soft peal of laughter and the tremble in her shoulders as the rigidity in her posture eased.

“Maybe it’s fate meeting you here,” she said after a moment, lifting her head and resting her chin on the top of the box. “Or some sort of shared dreaming that I’m having…”

“A shared dream with who?” Kurama asked, propping his elbow up and resting his cheek in hand. Her imagination never ceased to amaze him in the tail ends of conversation he heard her have with her co-workers.

“Mm, with Yumi… ah, I mean Fujimoto-san.”

Kurama waved his free hand dismissively. “It’s alright, I know how close you are. It’s good that you’re friends. You seem to help each other a lot.”

She seemed to relax at the reassurance and his smile broadened. Times like this, he realized the disparity between his own age and that of his co-workers or those around him. They were younger, subject to feelings that he’d long since come to terms with and understood intimately, and required validation not only from others but themselves. Feelings that were considered childish were abhorred. Self-reliance was encouraged but also led to self-neglectful habits when a person was accosted for being too vain.

His gaze drifted to the distant city lights and he sighed. Humanity still confused him in ways that he couldn’t put to words.

“It’s weird being fussed over.”

Her voice broke through the veil of his thoughts and his gaze drifted to her. A gentle breeze whipped her hair from her face, exposing the good-natured smile and the adoring look in her eyes as she turned the box over in her hands. Pink dusted her cheeks and the change in her aura wasn’t out of adoration or some feeling of romantic interest but appreciation and slight embarrassment. Kurama’s fingers curled, his pinky brushing against the corner of his lips, eyes narrowing as he examined the micro-expressions. From the twitch in the corner of her lips to the way her pupils dilated as she brought it closer to examine the print.

“Is it because you’re used to being the one fussing?” He suggested, suppressing a soft laugh when she bolted upright and turned toward him with wide eyes. “I wish I could say it was a lucky guess but we might be the same in that regard.”

“I would say,” she pursed her lips and leveled him with a flat stare. “You were scolding me for not eating but you didn’t even bring a lunch for yourself.”

Kurama chuckled. “You’re really not going to let that go, are you, ___-san?”

“Absolutely not. Do you know how surprised I was when my supervisor called me out for not eating and then didn’t bring anything for himself? What were you going to survive off of? Sunshine?”

“Well, I have heard from a few that I am like a plant,” Kurama teases, rubbing his chin as if he were really thinking about surviving off of sunlight and air alone.

___ batted her hand at him and he snorted with laughter, pulling his arm aside after she swatted him a few times.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding…” He reassured, his eyes closing as he basked in the breeze. “But is it really that bad to let yourself be worried over..?”

A question that he asked himself more times than he could count but could never find a conclusive answer for. With the steady habit of questioning and answering, chasing himself in circles like a kit trying to capture its tail, it was never easy to simply say yes or no.

“It depends.”

“Huh?” Kurama muttered, the soft noise parting his lips as he opened his eyes, looking at her curiously.

“I think it depends on who is doing the worrying and whether or not you feel that you’re overwhelmed,” ___ clarifies, meeting his gaze. The distant lights’ glow are watered down and faint against her skin but halos her in soft hues akin to a rainbow. Kurama rests his chin against his fist and nods slowly.

“Do you feel overwhelmed, ____-san? Is that why you can’t sleep?”

He wasn’t sure what answer he was hoping for. A flippant response that would send them into another fit of laughter that would last for a few minutes before they parted ways. Or perhaps an honest one that might tell him that there’s no reason to worry.

— 幽☆遊☆白書 —

Kurama’s apartment door closed with an echoing finality, his keys dropped into the bowl sitting on a table by the couch in the living room as he passed by. The plastic shopping bag crinkling as it shifted in his grasp, dropped unceremoniously on the low table near the feet kicked out on top of it it. A watchful gaze followed him as he stepped to the window, giving his plants a bit of his youki then pulling back the curtains. Moonlight filling the living room and chasing away the shadows aside from the one reclining on his couch and sifting through the shopping bag.

“Is she the one?” Hiei asked, the hissing pop of the drink that he wanted punctuating the sentence.

Kurama glanced over his shoulder at him as he downed the contents of it. He still wasn’t sure how he could drink something that spicy but he wasn’t going to question it. Even now, Hiei could be a mystery to him when he wanted to be.

“Her address is already known to the Reikai and they’re conducting their investigations. It’s good fortune that she’s not there,” Kurama explained, his thoughts drifting to his co-worker and the last words that she spoke to him before they parted ways. Sitting on the ledge of his window, he rested his back against the cool glass and folded his arms across his chest. “it should go smoothly.”

Hiei hummed low in his throat, a disconcerted noise that caught Kurama’s attention. “Something about this isn’t right.”

“What makes you say that?” Kurama asked, arching a brow.

“Good fortune goes hand in hand with coincidence,” Hiei glanced his way and narrowed his eyes, crimson irises glowing in the dim silver light. “And we both know there is no such thing.”

Kurama hesitated, letting the implication sink into the air between them, charged with tension unusual to their common silence. “You’re saying it was orchestrated..”

Hiei nodded faintly then crushed the can in his hand, tucking it back into the bag then retrieving another. “I’m saying that this is going to become annoying soon enough,” he corrected, fiddling with the top of the can. “More so than it already is.”

He brought the can to his lips then hesitated, staring at the opening then glancing aside at Kurama with what the youko would say was the utmost skepticism. “And that tea that you gave her, it isn’t from the Ningenkai, is it?”

Kurama smiled thinly. “No,” he admitted, brushing his fingers along the underside of the petals of the Flower of Forgotten Dreams. “But it will help her sleep. And sweet dreams is something any kind soul deserves.”

The silence stretched on but Kurama could feel the weight of Hiei’s gaze and waited for the inevitable shoe to drop from the fire demon’s musings.

“Even you?” Hiei intoned softly, a look in his eyes that made Kurama’s insides warm and his chest ache.

“Hiei,” Kurama sighed, smiling ruefully. “When have I ever been kind?”

[themiddlelayer]

I do not want this

Like the NIN song... I do not want this. I can’t keep doing this. Being this. 

Ever have an epiphany hit you so hard that you literally just say, “Fuck me!” out loud? That’s what’s happening right now.

Doing what? Being what? Well... doing this thing where I feed the fantasy. Being the fantasy. I do not want this. 

My most recent conversation with Jersey has been on my mind since I opened my eyes and started crying. 

Part 1: COVID. He’s a firefighter in New Jersey, right across from NYC. In previous conversations he’d told me about the uptick in calls because people who had never cooked were setting kitchen fires. I giggled, I admit it. 

But he also said that people were “dying left and right” out there. Last night he told me about a friend of his who lost both of her parents to COVID. She couldn’t be with them, and they put their bodies into refrigerated trucks. Utterly heartbreaking. 

He tries not to talk politics but he said that our leadership should be ashamed of themselves. (I totally agree) And then he started talking about moving to Nova Scotia and living together in a tiny house. Another fantasy. But...

Part 2: He is married. When we met in MD he and his wife were living apart and apparently had been on and off for years. But when I tried to ask what their dynamic was, he sidestepped things. Bottom line, as far as she knows they are monogamous and closed. 

Even then there was talk of leaving once his kid was old enough. His kid is now 20 years old. Which set me spinning down another track...

He has been married for at least 2 decades and he’s sitting there on fire duty talking to me about running away from his life and starting over with me. That is my worst nightmare. 

Can you imagine spending 20+ years married to someone only to find out that they were talking to another woman (or more than one, who knows?) on and off for (at least) FIVE YEARS?!? That is such a deep level of betrayal and hurt that it makes my heart ache to know that I’ve been that woman. 

I’d justified it in my own mind... that’s between him and her, he’s the one breaking agreements. There has to be more to the story. It’s just talk anyway and I don’t think he would actually do it. 

And then he said, “Life change is important after all this.” So, would he actually do it now? 

I’ve done this too many times before. I did the unethical non-monogamy from the beginning. Byron and I lost our virginity to each other, then he started dating my best friend... but kept sleeping with me. And when I was sexually assaulted by another friend’s boyfriend, nobody believed me because if I would sleep with one friend’s boyfriend of course I’d sleep with another, right?!? 

I was 16 years old in a relationship with a 31 year old who was literally 3 days out of San Quentin (yes, prison) when we met. His girlfriend was my mother’s best friend and when she threatened to kick my ass, my mother said, “Well, if you feel the need to do it, go ahead!” 

I told the boyfriend before MM that I wasn’t ready for monogamy and commitment but when he realized that I meant it and I was hooking up with a couple from work he freaked out and ended things. I was so proud of myself for being honest. For not being that person anymore. For owning who I was and what I wanted. I had finally found a way to be honest and real and be exactly who I was without hurting anyone. That was 8 years ago.

MM and I actually had conversations about Jersey when this all started. MM was, for lack of a better word, disappointed in me for knowingly getting involved with a cheater. 

Jersey isn’t the only one lately. Another of my first partners reached out to me not long ago. He’s been in a relationship with a woman for a decade. When we chatted, he went on about how I was the one who “made him a man” and that he wanted to come see me. I brought up the girlfriend and all he said was that he’s 42 not 14 anymore and that it would be a ‘business trip.’ 

I do not want this. I’m just a fantasy to them... to more than just those two if I’m being honest. I’ve had several others tell me that I was ‘the one who got away’ and their ‘first love’ and admitted to masturbating to pictures of me decades after we were together. 

It sounds like it should be flattering. And I have to admit that a part of me still loves the attention and the idea that I’m the measuring stick that these men have used over the years with new partners. I’m that amazing. 

But today it hit me like a ton of bricks. I do not want this. I don’t want to be somebody’s fantasy. I want to be somebody’s partner. I want to be a whole person in their eyes much in the way I’ve fought for so long to become a whole person in my own eyes. 

And yes, I love taking sexy pictures and sharing them. I love giving head. I love being tied up and beaten. But I also love deep conversations, home-cooked meals and everyday life with a partner. I shouldn’t have to choose between the two. 

I can be lovable and fuckable. I AM LOVABLE AND FUCKABLE... and there’s nothing wrong with being both, dammit! 

I do not want this... This thing I’ve allowed myself to become in the eyes of these men. 

I think Tor is the closest I’ve gotten to being a whole person with. He’s seen my sexy pics, but we’ve also talked about mental health and relationships and grief and loss... he is literally my supervisor and he sees the work I do and how good I really am at my job. Seeing my ass... seeing me steamed up and soapy in the shower, hearing stories about my sex life... none of that changes the other things I am with him. That is so fucking empowering. 

Is this the lesson I needed to learn here? Is this one of the big clue-by-fours I’ve been artfully dodging that needed to be demolished? Holy shit. 

I really miss drinking right now. 

[libermachinae]

Spark Light

Sequel to “Logic Circuit”

This fic is also available on AO3!

Summary:  Prowl is as comforting as Earth’s new black hole and Bumblebee has turned avoiding grief into a sound career option. After the end of the world, though, certain allowances can be made.

⭐ 🐝 ⭐ 🐝 ⭐ 🐝 ⭐

Bumblebee was dancing when Prowl found him. Music eked out the speakers of a transport shuttle, biolights blended and churned together, and several hundred mechs celebrated their continued existence in the universe by pushing their worn-out frames to just the point of breaking. It was a final farewell to the Cybertronian empire, a blending of Eukarian, Devisen, Velocitronian, Camian, Cybertronian sound and life in a way that many had suspected would never come to pass. Under constellations that even those whose species had lived under would have to reacquaint themselves with, dented, scratched, mangled, torn, forgotten bodies danced until overshot joints gave out, weakened armor buckled, frayed wires snapped, and in so doing they made their grief physical and gave it life.

It was the wrong place to seek out new friends. Bumblebee, every eager, ever lively, persevered for as long as he could, until a familiar voice pushed his designation into the space between songs and his optics threatened to flicker out entirely.

“Well, buddy,” he said, putting on his characteristic grin, “it’s been a while.”

Prowl had led him away from the party, up a slope and into the woods surrounding the refugee city. The low hum of thousands of voices carried through the trees, and between the gaps it was still possible to see the lines stretching outside of the Cybertronian aid stations, where volunteers had been working for hours to find solutions for every problem brought forth, from missing limbs to missing friends. Bumblebee had been with them for a couple hours before his human supervisor realized that he’d been one of the mechs directly involved in the battle. He was issued a firm command to take the rest of the night to recuperate, even though he pointed out that the war had prepared him for campaigns much longer and more grueling than this one had been.

Walking away while people still needed help had been one of the most frustrating parts of this long, terrible day, but at least from up here he could see the lines and knew they were moving. Even just a few hours out, progress was being made.

“It has,” Prowl said, glancing back to Bumblebee after letting himself observe the proceedings below. “Is your new body handling well?”

“It’s Wheeljack’s work, what do you think?” He proudly tapped his knuckles against the Autobrand on his chassis. “Getting back into the fight, it was like no time had passed at all. For I could tell, I’d just onlined from a really long recharge cycle.”

“But that wasn’t the case.” Though it wasn’t phrased like a question, the inquiry was there, and both knew Bumblebee was too good at picking up cues to miss it.

“No,” he said, dropping his hand, “I was aware for most of the last few years. Believe me, there were times I would have done anything to drop into defrag for a few hours, but I guess when you’re only kind of alive-ish your processor doesn’t work exactly the same way. I was pretty limited in what I could do.”

An unspoken answer to an unasked question. He’d worked with Prowl for long enough to be sensitive to the subtleties of such a trade of information, though he would always prefer to be forthright.

“How did you find me?” he asked. Even if he didn’t like the game, he knew how to play it, and that sometimes a risky move like a diversion was necessary to get ahead.

“Windblade noticed you while doing a sweep of the area,” Prowl said, accepting Bumblebee’s lead. “She was concerned but felt it would be out of line for her to interfere.”

“And she knew you wouldn’t be bothered by that ‘procedural nonsense.’” Bumblebee regretted the words as his vocalizer was synthesizing them. No matter how he smiled or the cute way his helm tilted to one side, there was no way to turn them into the casual quip he’d intended. Time had not yet healed that old wound, and all he’d done was exposed the damaged protomesh under the plating.

It wasn’t like he was seeking treatment for it, either. Left untended for so long, the frayed circuits and warped edges had become as familiar to him as any other part of his psyche, the way the war had shaped him to the point that he could not remove its influence and still remain Bumblebee of Iacon. He was his failures, and the last thing he wanted was for those who had pointed them out to think he resented them for doing so. Criticism meant people were paying attention. It was a reminder that his leadership had not existed in a vacuum, that there were reasons more than just personal shame to keep trying to be better. His one relief was in knowing that he’d revealed this vulnerability to the mech he knew wouldn’t try to take any of it back. He’d known Prowl to feel regret on only a handful of occasions, and never once bore witness to him expressing it openly.

“We each found the manner in which events played out on Cybertron to be disagreeable, for our own reasons,” Prowl said now, the burn of his optic as steady as his voice. “It might be inappropriate after all that we have done, and all that we allowed to happen, but I do still consider you my best friend. I wanted to check on you myself.”

The declaration surprised Bumblebee. Not being called Prowl’s best friend, which he’d known for some time and been unable to reciprocate for reasons they were both familiar with, but hearing that the sentiment remained even with the intervening years and numerous mistakes stretching out the space between them.

“And what’s the prognosis?” he asked, doing them both the favor of putting off that conversation for another day.

Prowl stared at Bumblebee; his lip twitched.

“Oh, come on, really?” Bumblebee said, waving a hand. “I’m fine—well, I will be. If almost surviving the war taught me anything, it’s that there’s always a way to bounce back. And anyway, right now, I can’t really say that I’m feeling any worse than everybody else. There are some mechs down there who lost way more than I did.”

He stopped himself before he could go too far down that road, realizing that he was starting to quantify lives in the same way that had gotten Prowl is so much trouble towards the end. Their dynamic only worked so long as he was the subjective one, the one who processed individuals instead of numbers, who couldn’t say how many Autobots were stationed at a given base but could tell you half the staff’s favorite energon supplements.

“Here,” he said, brushing away the carpet of needles and pinecones before settling himself onto the dirt. “We worked so hard to save these stars, why not take some time to enjoy them?” Whatever grit got into their joints and seams now would be a negligible addition to the filth caked to their plating. Dust and mud had combined with congealed energon to leave ugly streaks across most Cybertronians’ frames, paint dulled or rubbed off entirely in patterns that probably could have retold the story of the battle if observed carefully enough. Everyone was walking around with a narrative of what they’d been doing when the world nearly ended, and although Bumblebee would be glad to rinse himself of it once the washrack stations were operational, the sense of solidarity provided him with another reminder of why they’d put their bodies through such torment in the first place.

Prowl sat, leaving space enough between them that a third mech could have joined them comfortably. Gaze angled up,  to the galaxy that somehow felt just as far away now as his home world, Bumblebee allowed himself to sink back into the feeling he had enveloped himself in at the party: spark spinning in its chamber, fuel pump beating against his lines, gyros calibrating, optics sensing, vents whispering. His body was alive, working, its systems operating in tandem to keep each other functioning. For the first time in years, he could not only see the world, but touch it, grasp it, and the burden of that responsibility was one he accepted with gratitude.

Responsibility under the scrutiny of others was much easier to manage than one taken on with no supervision. Managing Starscream had been a challenge not just for the logistical work involved, but because Bumblebee had never had anyone to assure him that it was the right thing to do, especially given his own track record in leadership. At the same time, there were elements of his self-appointed position that his processor longed to dwell on a little longer, memory files initiating playback without his consent and being halted just as quickly.

Late nights spent pouring over datapads, exhaustive lists of information on—stop.

Unshared cubes of celebratory engex after Starscream’s—stop.

Arguments with Starscream of completely forgettable—stop.

Starscream flying low over the rooftops of New—stop.

Starscream sentencing a mech to—stop.

Starscream standing at the podi—stop.

Starsc—stop.

Stop.

Stop.

Queue for deletion.

Bumblebee’s sparked jumped and he immediately unqueued the file, holding it at the forefront of his processor to watch the playback: Starscream spinning on a heelstrut and pushing off his balcony with his thrusters, transforming midair and blasting off across the city. It was Starscream’s usual routine and Bumblebee likely had identical copies for every morning he’d spent in that self-indulgence of a penthouse, but he played it through several more times before returning it to his archives, processor finally sated.

Memories were all that remained of Starscream now, and that made them precious: impossible, irresponsible to discard.

His spark was spinning too fast. Silence wasn’t working; he needed to think about anything else.

“Are you okay?” he ventured.

Physical evidence of the battle was ubiquitous to the point that Bumblebee had stopped noticing its presence, but he hardly had to search for it once he started paying attention again. Like everyone else, Prowl’s finish was dusty and dull, paint rubbed off and armor dented in varying patterns across his frame. He was also littered in surface-level scratches, each of them glinting with jagged bits of shrapnel, and his shoulder betrayed the efficiency of some Maximal’s claws. It was all surface-level damage, which meant he wouldn’t be seen until the next round of medical exams took place, but it was still an interruption of the body and its normal functioning. The shadow occupying one side of his face was as loud and present as it would remain unmentioned, too like the new spaces between the stars.

And yet, his remaining optic burned like all the stars still clinging to life, refusing to be extinguished by this or any other darkness.

“I realized some things, about myself and my work, that I’d never had an opportunity to give voice to before today,” Prowl said. He let his singular gaze drift back to the masses of Cybertronians making their way through what could, for now, be considered their home. “For the first time since our return to Cybertron, maybe even since the start of the war, I feel like what I need to do and what everyone else needs from me actually align.” His lips quirked. It wasn’t a smile, but Bumblebee was under the impression that it was all Prowl was capable of now. “How I feel about such a revelation doesn’t matter; I’m going to do what’s necessary regardless. But I have to say, it’s pleasant.”

“It’s the first time in your life the choice doesn’t have to be a hard one,” Bumblebee said, “that’s probably why it feels good. It’s a relief.”

Prowl had his specialties, each of debatable merit and value, but this was Bumblebee’s: listening, filling in the gaps, forming the words that the speakers themselves couldn’t say but needed to be heard. People talked to Bumblebee because they knew he listened, and not in the way Prowl did, cataloguing information and storing it for later use, usually to the detriment of the subject. Bumblebee listened to understand. Though he struggled at times with sympathy, he still often found himself caring about those who opened up to him, causing him to wonder at times the motivations for even some of the most despicable acts performed in the war, regardless of faction origins. He’d stagnated some during his disastrous attempts at leadership, both for the Autobots and Cybertron as a whole, but the talent had remained, and in the years since he’d had nothing but time to practice and hone it.

Conveniently, it also made it easy for him to set aside his own, far less optimistic self-realizations.

“I’m happy for you,” he said, and though it was sincere, it was also inadequate. On all the planets Cybertron’s war had brought him to, not one had a word that would be able to encompass everything he was feeling in that moment, on that day.

“Thank you, Bumblebee.”

They grew silent and settled, trading glances between the cold stars above their heads and the living ones milling around the valley’s basin. It struck Bumblebee that his earlier search for company had been misguided in the same way his attempts at leading had been. He had a reputation for getting along with everyone, but experience by now had taught him that it only applied in one-on-one scenarios. On the dancefloor, surrounded by mechs eager to grab a drink and dance with the first bot to reach out to them, the energy had been right, but there’d been nowhere for it to go. Passed from dancer to dancer, he hadn’t worried about anyone looking too closely at him, accidentally peeling away the palatable upper layers and revealing that which he himself wasn’t ready to look at too closely. He was hurting, that much was obvious, but so was everyone else, and he’d thought that if he’d reached out to enough hurting mechs then maybe it would meet that need he had to connect and understand the internal structure of others.

He didn’t know how the night would have ended if Prowl hadn’t found him. Most likely, it wouldn’t have; he would have stayed on until the last dancers wandered off with the rising of the sun, and then returned to the aid stations to demand they let him help. As things stood now, he doubted he was going to be able to recharge with all the thoughts spinning through his processor, but better to spend these unintended waking hours with someone who he knew, to whom this day and its repercussions would mean the same as they did to Bumblebee.

“Without knowing what you do now,” Prowl said, “would you have tried to stop Optimus from annexing the Earth?”

The question was unexpected, the curiosity backing it a facet of Prowl that Bumblebee was not familiar with. He turned to look at his companion but received no responding glance.

“You mean, if we hadn’t known it would be our last salvation?”

“Yes. Obviously, it turned out to be in the benefit of our species in the end, but on principle, would you have stood against Optimus Prime?”

Bumblebee leaned back, letting his optics slide over the dance of the cosmos.

“It’s not like I could never disagree with Optimus, we argued plenty of times,” he said. “Pretty much every opportunity he took to leave the Autobots, I pointed out what a terrible idea it was, and I was right!”

“So, you’re saying the annexation was a similarly poor maneuver.”

Bumblebee wilted. He’d started to think that this conversation might avoid turning into an interrogation.

“No,” he said.

“It was a good decision?”

Bumblebee ran a hand down his faceplate, ignoring the bits of dirt that came with it.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t even here for most of it. Can you—Primus, can you not ask me that question?”

“What should I ask you, then?”

“What?”

Prowl finally twisted to look at him, not just his face, but his whole chassis turning to face Bumblebee, who was inadvertently reminded of how much smaller he was than most of the other Autobots.

“You clearly have something on your mind, Bumblebee,” he said. “What’s the question you want me to be asking?”

It took Bumblebee’s processor a moment to understand what was happening. Like he had done for so many other mechs, Prowl was now trying to reach across that void, to help light that space where the self grew thin and words couldn’t reach, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to do it on his own and asking for help to finish. It was a ridiculous request, and unselfish in a way that Prowl alone could achieve.

“What I told you earlier,” he said, words coming in such a rush they nearly scrambled, “ask me why.” He had no doubt Prowl would know what he was talking about. It was the only thing he’d managed to say that night of any substance, and Prowl’s constantly running battle computer would have picked it out and categorized it as such.

Prowl’s optic flashed.

“Why were you limited?” he asked. “Why didn’t you stop Starscream?”

There it was. The question that had been following Bumblebee for years, the one he could never close despite his spark’s aching need for resolution. His fans clicked on as his struggling processor started to heat his core, digging and calculating for the answer that had always eluded him.

“He’s tricky,” Bumblebee said, tracking the distances between stars with his optics, “and not just in the way he lies constantly, although that doesn’t make talking to him any easier, for sure. It’s more like his processor is constantly at war with itself. He’s scared of everything, but also entirely overconfident in his ability to defend himself. He doesn’t believe in anything, but still sees himself as destined for some greater purpose. Every time you think you’ve started to figure him out, there’s a contradiction, or he just sabotages himself to keep from being too predictable, and you can never be sure which way it’s going to go.” He meant it literally. Prowl’s battle plans had frequently been sidetracked by Starscream doing something unexpected, though there was no need to open those old wounds by pointing it out explicitly. “His processor works in layers, and they go so deep I don’t think even he knows what the core really looks like.”

It felt good to say it all out loud, to know that at least one other person might now understand the psychological labyrinth he’d been working through over the past few years, even if it brought Bumblebee no closer to understanding how Starscream functioned.

Had functioned. He realized belatedly that he’d said his whole piece as though Starscream were somewhere down in the valley, barking orders at the rest of the refugees.

“It’s a decent analysis, but it doesn’t answer the question,” Prowl said. “Anyone could tell you that Starscream is a difficult mech to work with. Why is it that your approach failed to yield results?”

Bumblebee frowned.

“I already said what I wanted to.”

“And I’m sure that was very individually gratifying for you, Bee, but you told me the question to ask and now I expect you to answer it.” Prowl’s expression was stern, and Bumblebee realized he was no longer talking to his old friend Prowl, whom he had accompanied on his first trip to a nightclub and had gotten flustered when a certain rookie grounder so much as entered the room. This was Commander Prowl, leader of the soldiers posted on Ark-19, greatest tactician of the Autobot army, and ruthless pragmatist.

He had half a mind to leave right then. He always knew it was possible for conversations with Prowl to take a turn like this, and normally he would find some way to laugh it off and change the subject, but he’d done that so many times that day he knew his defensive optimism was already spent. His tactile sensors were prickling from the extra energy being processed to match his frustration, and he could feel a familiar scowl starting to settle on his faceplate, one he’d hoped would go away once the main threat had been disposed of. It was only by the weight of loss that he stayed down, the knowledge that his spark wasn’t ready to handle another goodbye, especially one done out of anger. The crease remained between his optic ridges, but he did not move away from his spot on the ground.

“I wasn’t good enough,” he ground out.

“Even if that were true, I would expect you to be more specific.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say!” he spat. His anger was being fuel by a tangible, uncomfortable heat emanating from his overclocked processor, and he had to vent out a few cycles of hot air before he could trust himself to say more than static. “At first, I figured it was all just a game to him, so I tried to use logic. Find the moves that help him win and give Cybertron a better future, seemed simple. Except, he always found something wrong with it. Either this person didn’t trust him, or that idea had too many contingencies. I could never solve all the problems to make him confident in anything I had to say.

“So, I changed tactics. If he was going to push against concrete solutions, then I could just work him through theoretical frameworks, explain why certain things were wrong and let him make the logical steps to make the right choices. I know it sounds ridiculous, but he wanted to stay in power, and even he realized he would have to be a decent ruler in order to make that happen. It seemed like a good plan, and sometimes it even seemed to work. But then something minor would happen, one of the delegates would spook him or a disaster outside anyone’s control would cause some civil unrest, and he would go straight back to his old habits. I could never figure out what he needed from me.”

“You didn’t know what someone needed to hear? That’s hard to believe.”

“Well, like I said, he was a challenging mech to understand.”

“You made the galaxy’s foremost war criminal switch sides after a few minutes alone together, yet your years spent with Starscream offered no insights at all into his inner workings?”

Prowl was right: Bumblebee was making excuses again. He leaned forward and touched his face, remembering the unfeeling sensation of the battlemask, how it had acted as a buffer between him and Megatron right up until that last critical minute. Being around Starscream had always left him feeling exposed. Even if the other mech didn’t dig in the way Bumblebee had, he always knew how to push back, peeling away the layers of Bumblebee’s arguments and finding the hidden agendas Bumblebee hadn’t even realized he’d been hiding. Though he never felt the need to question his own intentions, the incronguity between method and motivation had given him pause on numerous occasions.

“I tried to be a political advisor, and then some sort of morality coach, and I was always doomed to fail on both accounts because Starscream already had mechs who could function in either capacity. What he needed, and what I failed to provide for him, was a friend.”

It had been no mere accident, either. Trapped in infraspace, kept apart from his friends and forced to watch as they scattered themselves across the galaxy without him, he’d been in just as desperate need for connection as Starscream. Aware of that desperation, though, and the effect Starscream had already proven to have over mechs much less easily swayed than Bumblebee himself, he had recognized the inherent danger in opening himself up to Starscream in any way that mattered. Even if infraspace had been his eternity and he’d never had to face the Autobots again, even more reason not to let himself be shaped into someone he could no longer recognize. So, with political rhetoric and claims for the common good and one-sided efforts to learn how Starscream’s processor operated, he had held intimacy at bay.

And still despite that, he had come to care for the other mech. He knew he was not alone in that: numerous others who’d been swept up in Starscream’s political dealings had ended up with some stake in their leader’s wellbeing, to variable degrees, but he knew there to be more to the connection than the keeping of Cybertron’s population. That had been the start, and remained the basis for some time, but the moment Starscream stepped into his cell, Bumblebee knew he could not leave the fallen titan to his fate. Had Shockwave never returned, he would have stayed for the entirety of the life sentence, acting as companion to the one person in the universe who needed one even more than him.

A part of his processor kept carefully encrypted finally released, and he wondered if Starscream would have opened the Talisman if he’d known there was someone who would miss him.

His vocalizer was working before his processor had decided how to communicate the thought.

“But something must have gotten through to him. I don’t know if it was actually anything I did, but he sacrificed himself to bring down Unicron. He died a hero.”

“Hm.” Prowl was staring at him, analyzing and cataloguing, calculating future outcomes. Bumblebee could almost see the process at work behind his optic, and he wondered if he’d picked the wrong mech to share all this with.

“I’m sure you mean that sincerely,” he said, “but I do feel it my obligation to remind you that this is the same Starscream who proposed to have Metroplex space bridge to Earth while more than half the population was still trapped on Cybertron.”

“I know, Prowl.”

“I’m just saying.”

“I know, I know.” Bumblebee drew his fingers through the dry upper layer of the soil, relishing the feeling after spending too long dwelling on the time in his life when he’d had no body to do it with. “Somehow, despite that, he ended up a true hero. I just wanted one other person to know.”

That felt like the closest he’d come to saying something true all night. Sure, he’d meant everything he’d said to Prowl, and in a certain context and for practical purposes it was true. All of it, though, was part of the system of layers of his and Starscream’s own making, and no matter what degree his honesty took, he always felt that there was something buried deeper, a further truth, like crystals buried in the roots of ore deposits. The desire to not be alone with his knowledge, though, that was pure. Even if Prowl didn’t share his view, took Bumblebee’s faith as a judgement on his character and nothing more: better that than to live alone with his belief for the rest of his life.

A streak of light flashed across the sky, its beauty reabsorbed before it could even be appreciated, and with a wrench of his spark Bumblebee realized that this was his final farewell to Starscream. The other departed would get funerals, boisterous reminiscences shared over pints of engex, teary quiet moments of remembrance, but there was no one with whom he could share this grief, no one who would understand what they’d been through, the intense bond that had been somehow formed from a conjunxing of desperation, loneliness, and a shared hope for Cybertron’s future. In the coming days he would lack the time to give adequate thought to the questions he still had, and as the present stretched gradually away from the past, memories would become unreliable, recollections of certain events contested until all that remained was a winged silhouette and a feeling of ever more unachievable ambition. Starscream’s eulogy had been written in words only ever spoken aloud, his legacy unforgettable and yet perpetually unclaimed.

“Establishing Starscream’s role in our history is going to be an essential if divisive task in the years to come,” Prowl said, once more reeling Bumblebee back in. “You will likely not find companions to agree with you in equal measure to those who oppose your viewpoint, but I would advise against rising to their challenges. Your skills would be better served elsewhere.” He made to stand, brushing off dust as he righted himself. “From what I’ve heard, an old colleague of mine has taken an interest in the new protoforms developing within Trypticon. She’s hoping to assist in their education and development, give them an opportunity to live lives free of the choices we were forced to make. It’s something to consider.”

“What, becoming a teacher?” The suggestion so surprised Bumblebee that he didn’t think to stand as well.

“Yes. You’re one of the few mechs I would trust with such a responsibility, Bumblebee.”

Prowl’s sincerity gave weight to the air, and for one brief moment, it was like the last several years hadn’t happened, and they were once more brothers in arms, fighting the oppression of the Decepticons and defending innocent life wherever it needed them. Bumblebee could never miss the war, but the links he had formed with his fellow Autobots were such that could only be sustained through a cocktail of mutual need for survival and crushing belief that the cause they fought for was the right one. Despite every well-meaning promise between veteran comrades to keep in touch after the fighting was over, there were some connections that could never be revived back to what they were when life and death were commodities in a galaxy-spanning trade.

The spinning of Bumblebee’s spark slowed, its chamber aching.

“I’ll think about it,” he said.

“Good.” Prowl crossed his arms in front of his chassis, his weight shifting in the direction of the tree line. The moment was over; there would not be another.

“I’m going underground in the morning,” he said, voice still steady. “I’ve picked up some fragile cargo that will need to be stored in a more secure location.”

“Oh. Are you coming back?”

“Most likely, once I feel security is up to my specifications.”

“Well, I’ll be here,” Bumblebee assured, easing back again. “And hey, if the Lost Light’s back by then, maybe we can grab Hound and Ratchet and go out for a drink. You know, almost like pulling the old Iacon crew back together.”

“We’ll see if the timing actually works out so well,” Prowl allowed. It wasn’t a flat rejection, though he did turn to leave. “I suspect you’ll be busy soon enough.”

“We’ll see,” Bumblebee echoed. He liked the thought of being busy, of having a role to play in this fledgling society, but he wasn’t sure what it was supposed to be yet. For a couple hours, he’d thought that maybe morale boosting could be his duty to the survivors, but this conversation had him thinking differently. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be known as the passive listener anymore, even if the alternative terrified him, memories of looking down on his Autobots plaguing his processor.

It would be different this time, he told himself. He would make it so. And if he was really serious about making changes from his earlier tactics, he knew one obvious place to start.

“I’m sorry for what happened to you on Cybertron,” he said. The words came naturally, like they’d been sitting in his processor for some time, waiting for him to discover them. “I was so wrapped up in everything else going on that I didn’t notice, but I should have, and I’m really sorry.”

Prowl paused, back to Bumblebee, the whir of normal systems working louder than anything else in the night.

“Prowl?”

“I heard you, Bee. I… I heard you. Have a pleasant night.”

It was simple, a clean cut. Prowl’s form disappeared into the darkness and Bumblebee couldn’t say for sure if he would ever see it again. He suspected he would; though Prowl liked to disappear from time to time, he never trusted the rest of them to be completely left to their own devices and would inevitably slip back into the command structure to keep things operational. Though everything was different now, it was comforting to think that some of their bad habits might stay just the same.

He looked up to the night sky, wondering if it would always feel incomplete, and tried to guess if his emotions were those that one was supposed to feel in such a moment.

“Finally. I was starting to think you might’ve already found my replacement.”

Bumblebee whirled around.

The glow was the first thing he noticed, light bleeding off Starscream’s immaculate frame while illuminating nothing around him, neither the branches his armor rippled around as he moved, nor Bumblebee’s own plating as he turned himself fully, optics wide and flickering rapidly. He was smirking, of course, lit red optics piercing through the night like beacons calling a ship home.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” he chided as he strode forward, grace betraying none of his years spent in military service. “You didn’t really think I was just going to leave you to manage my legacy on your own, did you?”

He was smiling, not smirking, Bumblebee realized, smiling and radiant and gorgeous, and in that moment, he knew he’d been lying to himself every time he said he was afraid of becoming Starscream’s friend. He’d befriended questionable characters before, offered a listening ear to those who had nothing to offer but hateful rhetoric and come away from it stronger in his convictions and his loyalty to the Autobot cause. The wariness that had plagued him in infraspace, that had him turning his newly-built back on Starscream the first moment he could, was forged from the knowledge that his feelings for Starscream had the potential to run much deeper than any of the thousands of friendships he’d formed in his several million years online.

When Starscream came striding through the trees that night, frame glowing like he’d taken the light of Primus with him when he’d slipped out the doors of death, Bumblebee realized, without needing to say it out loud, that to offer his spark to Starscream would mean never getting it back. Starscream could reject him, belittle him, take off into the cosmos and never return to Bumblebee’s side in whatever years they had left, and still Bumblebee would feel the slow-burning jagged wonderful ache, this new desire to be known in a way that had never been of interest to him before. Though he believed (hoped) Starscream was desperate enough for company that he would not betray Bumblebee for this unfortunate truth, the thought of another mech having that much power over him was terrifying, and he was grateful that it seemed they would now have plenty years ahead to let those feelings develop before a time came for critical decisions to be made.

Worries for the future, then. On that day, with the sky twice as dark as it had once been and the shadows of their past lives draped overhead, mechs of all backgrounds were dancing together, celebrating those stars they had managed to save in time with their mourning for those they did not. Bumblebee and Starscream met in the middle, both talking too fast to understand what the other was saying, their shared lights more than enough to illuminate their new world.

[blurry-fics]

Sunday

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1834

Author’s Note: I’m so excited for this little miniseries! And just to be back to posting again. School is almost over for the summer and I have so many exciting things planned, just you wait! Anyway, in the meantime, enjoy day one of summer camp :)

*      *     *     *     *

“Y/N!”

You spun around at the sound of the familiar voice. A few feet away, Tyler Joseph was stepping off of another bright yellow bus, not unlike the one that you had just grabbed all your stuff from. He held his arms out and you went running over to hug him.

“How have you been?” he asked as he squeezed you tightly.

You stepped away and grabbed your suitcase again, “I’ve been alright, what about you?”

“Great. Really great.”

“Hey, where’s Josh?”

As if he had heard your question, Josh Dun came stepping off the bus carrying his own collection of bags. Upon seeing you, he dropped them and opened his arms for a hug as well.

“Y/N!” he cheered. “Long time, no see.”

“Only about a year,” you laughed as you pulled away.

“That’s a long time.”

The three of you grabbed your things and started down the hill that led to the camp together. It felt nice to be out in the forest again, enjoying the fresh air and summer breeze. Being a camp counselor for a week during the summer was something that you looked forward to every year.

“Are you guys excited to meet the kids tomorrow?” you asked.

“Are you kidding?” Tyler answered. “That’s like my favorite part.”

“Have you thought about what camp name you’re going to use this year?” Josh chimed in.

“I think I’m going to stick with Y/C/N,” you answered. “It’s been my name for five years, so why change it now?”

“Yeah, I think I’m going to stick with DJ Spooky,” he laughed.

“DJ Spooky,” you repeated. “I don’t know that I’ll ever get used to that.”

“What about you, Tyler?”

“Vulture,” he answered plainly.

You nodded. It seemed a bit dark for a camp name, but you didn’t question it. Ahead of you, the camp was just beginning to come into view. Your eyes landed on a familiar blonde figure standing at the bottom of the hill, surrounded by a couple bags.

“Jen!” you called loudly.

She spun around at the sound of your voice and held her arms out to you. You crashed into her, nearly knocking her to the ground with all the momentum you had gained from your downhill run. She laughed as the two of you spun around, holding tightly onto one another.

“How are you?” she asked, holding you at arm’s length.

“Great,” you grinned. “So happy to be back.”

“Are you ready to have the most kickass cabin this year?”

“You know it.”

You and Jenna had been cabin-buddies since you both attended the camp as kids. When you both became old enough to be counselors, there was no question that you two would be partners. Even as teenagers, the two of you were inseparable.

“Hey!” Jenna called to Josh and Tyler, who were about halfway down the hill now. They each waved down to the two of you.

“This is going to be the best year yet, I can feel it,” you smiled.

Jenna leaned a little closer to you, “Are you going to finally admit your camp crush this year?”

“No, shh!” you said, swatting at her arm. “He might hear you!”

Every year, the counselors had a tradition of admitting their camp crushes to one another before everyone got on the buses back home. Despite the fact that you had been crushing on the same fellow counselor for almost three straight years now, you had never built up the courage to participate with everyone else.

“It was an innocent question!”

“Maybe,” you said, already feeling your cheeks get warm. “I mean, we’re going off to college next year, so I might as well, right?”

“Exactly.” Jenna elbowed you in the ribs, but your attention was drawn away by Tyler and Josh.

“What cabin are you guys in?” Tyler asked.

“Five,” Jenna answered, looking down at a piece of paper that she had no doubt been given by one of the supervisors.

“Isn’t that the nice one?” you asked.

“Yeah, I may have done a bit of persuading,” she giggled.

“What about you guys?”

“Not sure yet,” Tyler answered. “We should probably go find the camp supervisor, Josh.”

“Agreed. I need to meet up with Brad and figure out what we’re doing.”

“See you guys at dinner?” Tyler asked, pointing to you.

“Definitely,” you grinned.

The two of them waved and walked off with their stuff. Meanwhile, you and Jenna headed across the camp towards your cabin.

“It smells so nice out here,” Jenna commented. “I wish the camp was longer than a week.”

“At least we get the added bonus of today without the kids!”

“Yeah, but that’s spent setting up.”

“Speaking of setting up, what activity are we in charge of this year?” you asked.

“Arts and crafts.”

“Really? I haven’t been in charge of that one before.”

“Prepare to be covered in paint by the end of the day,” Jenna laughed.

“You know, I don’t think I’ll mind.”

Jenna pulled out the cabin key as the two of you neared the little wooden building. The door took a bit of work to get open, but with a bit of teamwork you managed to get inside. The decorations were simple, mostly just bunk beds with a small sitting area, but there was a little bathroom which was a nice added bonus. There was nothing worse than trying to find your way across camp in the middle of the night.

“This is nice,” Jenna said as she set her stuff down next to one of the bunks. “Better than last year, that’s for sure.”

“Definitely. My legs were covered in mosquito bites by the end of that week.”

“Oh, right! I had totally forgotten about that.”

“What beds do you think we should take?”

“I was thinking these two. They’re by the door and low to the ground, in case one of the kids needs us in the middle of the night.”

“Good call.”

You threw your stuff onto one of the lower bunks and took a moment to sit down and rest your legs. The rest of your day would be spent carrying equipment all over the place and getting everything ready for the kids’ arrival tomorrow, so you would take any moment of peace that you could get.

“Alright, what do you say we get out there and see what they need help with?” Jenna asked.

You sighed and stood back up, “Let’s do this.”

*     *     *

By the time that you and Jenna arrived to the cafeteria for dinner, your hair was plastered to your forehead with sweat and you felt like you might collapse at any moment. You piled your tray high with food and waited for Jenna to finish doing the same.

“Where should we sit?” she asked, looking out over the sea of counselors sitting at tables.

You took a moment to scan everyone, “Wait, there’s the boys.”

Jenna bumped your arm with her elbow as you two walked towards them. You simply shot her a look as a silent way of telling her not to say a word about your feelings.

“My lips are sealed,” she whispered.

“Hey!” Josh smiled as the two of you sat down across from them. “I haven’t seen you two all day.”

“That’s how the first day of camp goes,” you laughed as you took a seat next to Tyler. “All work, no play.”

“At least the rest of the week is basically goofing off,” Jenna chimed in.

You took a long sip of water to alleviate your dry throat. It was nice to finally sit down and rest your legs, even though there was still more to be done after dinner.

“So,” Josh began. “I have to ask…”

“Don’t tell me we’re talking about college already,” you sighed.

“I just want to know what your plans are!”

“I’m starting culinary school in the fall,” Jenna answered. “Figured I might as well make a career out of what I already love doing.”

Tyler and Josh nodded thoughtfully for a moment before turning to you.

“What about you, Y/N?”

“Just community college,” you shrugged. “I’m still trying to figure out what I want to do.”

“What about you two?”

“We’re just going to focus on music and hope it goes somewhere,” Tyler laughed.

“Are you working on an album?” you asked.

“Yeah, we have something in the works,” Josh smiled.

“Any more details?”

“Nope, that’s all you get.”

You laughed and tossed a fry at Josh. It hit him in the nose and fell onto his tray, but he still picked it up and ate it.

“Let me know when I can actually hear it,” you said.

“Will do,” Tyler answered.

You sighed and took a bite of your food.

“Jenna, I never asked, what’s your camp name this year?” Josh asked.

“Still going with Daisy,” she answered before taking a sip of water.

“Daisy, DJ Spooky, Y/C/N, and Vulture. The ultimate team,” Tyler said.

“Speaking of teams, why aren’t you two running the same cabin?” you asked.

Josh and Tyler shared a look before Josh spoke, “You can’t compete if you’re on the same team.”

Jenna shook her head and laughed, “I can’t believe you two.”

“We’re competitive people, what can we say?”

There was a pause as the four of you sipped on your drinks or took a bite of food. The conversations at other tables created a nice hum of noise to keep the silence from feeling too awkward.

“I can’t believe this might be the last year we’re counselors,” Jenna said.

“It’s just an excuse to make this the best year yet, right?” Josh added.

“I guess so.”

“And our cabin is going to dominate at the end-of-week capture the flag match,” Tyler chimed in.

“In your dreams, Joseph!” you said.

He turned to you and raised an eyebrow, but you simply narrowed your eyes in challenge. It only took a few seconds of eye contact for him to break and smile.

One of the supervisors walked over and placed a hand on your table, “Hey, y’all. Ten more minutes of dinner and then we have to get moving. There’s still a lot to do and not much daylight left.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Josh said.

The supervisor nodded at him before walking off to the next table. Ten minutes wasn’t much time to finish your dinner and have a nice conversation with the boys and Jenna.

Dinner eventually ended and the four of you started to walk out of the cafeteria after dropping your dishes off. Just as you and Jenna were about to walk off in your own direction, one of the boys caught your eye. He smiled at you and gave you a little wave before turning and falling into step with his friend. Your stomach filled with butterflies and it was hard to keep the smile off your face.

Maybe they were right, this summer could be the best one yet.

*     *     *     *     *

Taglist

@faceofcontvsions @ohprettyweeper @addictwithaheavydirtycheetah @addictoftwentyone @svintsandghosts

[justheretobreakthings]

Welcome to the Family - Chapter 4

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Word Count: 2,898 (Total Word Count: 9,238) Read on AO3

Story Summary: Lance had been excited about his family taking in a foster kid, eager to get to meet his brand new little brother or sister, who would surely adore and idolize their super cool Big Brother Lance. What he got instead was a sullen, quiet, temperamental teenage housemate with a criminal record and a disastrous haircut.

With a shaky breath Keith turned around and leaned his back against the door, listening for Lance’s retreating footsteps and trying to regain his composure. One of his hands brushed against the knob and he debated turning the lock, but ultimately decided against it. Tania hadn’t mentioned whether he was allowed to lock his door, and he didn’t want to get in trouble if it turned out that it wasn’t permitted.

He waited until he was sure Lance was gone before going back to his bag, peering into it to see what had been messed with. He wasn’t sure what Lance’s aim had been, if he were looking to steal or looking for some contraband or something to report him on. Either way, it was incredibly stupid of him to have been commenting on his finds while he was rummaging through the bag.

Keith paused with a frown. That was beyond stupid, actually. Or it would have been if Lance had intended to hide that he was looking through his things. Had he actually thought that it was just an okay thing to do? Was that some personal quirk of Lance’s or would this be the level of privacy he should be expecting at the McClain house? Keith let out a huff of frustration. He hated no-privacy houses.

At least it seemed that Lance hadn’t dug through more than clothes and CDs. The emergency first-aid supplies and food were untouched where they were stuffed at the end of the bag, and his knife was still safely wrapped in socks and tucked into the inner pocket.

He finished unpacking on his own. It didn’t take long; his clothes didn’t even take up a full two drawers of the room’s dresser, and the only personal touches he had brought with him were the plush hippopotamus now resting on top of his pillow, and the little stack of CDs and few paperback books that he set onto the wall-mounted bookshelf over the desk.

Afterward, he collapsed back onto the bed, trying to think of what to do to pass the time next. It wasn’t as if there was much by way of entertainment in this room - probably by design - but he also didn’t want to go back downstairs and interact with the family, not yet. Tania seemed nice enough, or at least was making an effort to be, but she was also kind of exhausting, and Lance was nosy, had kept following them around and staring at Keith and going through his things. He still had yet to get a proper first impression of Rachel, but his hopes weren’t high.

With a sigh, he decided to hibernate in his bedroom for now. He pulled one of his books from the shelf - a weatherbeaten sword-and-sorcery that he had already read a couple dozen times over by this point - and set to reading it again, keeping his ears open for any sounds from the rest of the household. They seemed to be leaving him alone. He wasn’t sure whether Tania had just told them to give him space, or if they were avoiding or ignoring him; he was grateful for the quiet either way.

He had whiled away a couple of hours with his book before he was finally interrupted by a knock at the door. He looked up, letting a few seconds go by before realizing that whoever had knocked was waiting for his go-ahead to enter, so he said, “Come in.”

The door opened and Rachel poked her head into the room. “Hey,” she said. “Veronica just got home and Papá’s a couple minutes away, and dinner’s about ready, so Mamá needs you to come downstairs now, kay?”

“Um, okay,” Keith said, dog-earing his page and setting his book down on the bed before standing up.

Rachel raised a brow and nodded toward the book. “What, you don’t use bookmarks? Just fold the pages up like a heathen?” She clicked her tongue and shook her head. “For shame, Keith.”

Instantly Keith felt his stomach clench as he glanced back to the book. “No - no, it’s - it’s my book, I swear, I didn’t mess up any of your guys’ books, it’s - I mean, the pages aren’t in great shape anyway, and I would use a bookmark if it was someone else’s, I just didn’t think - ”

“Whoa, whoa, hey, easy,” Rachel said, eyes gone wide as she held up her hands placatingly. “Sorry, wasn’t accusing you of anything. Lance dog-ears his books too, I just like getting onto him about it. I say he’s a monster for folding the pages, he replies that I’m just being a snob with my oh-so-fancy bookmarks, and we call each other names until Mamá tells us we’re giving her a migraine. It’s fine, though. Mark your books however you want.”

“...Oh,” said Keith. “Okay.”

“You good to come down to dinner?”

Keith nodded. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

Rachel led the way downstairs, throwing curious glances his way a couple of times as they walked to the dining room. Keith kept his arms folded tightly and his gaze down as he followed her. He had overreacted about the book, started panicking over nothing, and now Rachel was thinking he was weird and confusing and probably overdramatic or something. Just what he needed to make a wonderful first impression.

A paunchbellied man with a scruffy ducktail beard was just entering the front door and he and Rachel landed downstairs, and another new face, a bespectacled young woman, was already in the dining room helping Lance set the table. Veronica, Keith surmised, and he was certain Tania had told him her husband’s name as well, but he couldn’t remember it.

“You must be Keith!” the bearded man said as he shut the door behind him, a beaming smile on his face. “I’m Manuel.” Well, there was that mystery solved. “Sorry I couldn’t come along to pick you up today, got called into work and just couldn’t worm my way out of it.”

“It’s quite all right, cariño,” Tania said as she bustled through the entrance to the kitchen with a pot of rice in her hands. As she set it down on a placemat on the table she added, “I really do wish that you’d talk to your supervisor, though, your hours have been a mess recently. Rachel, dear, could you grab the ropa vieja from the stove?”

“Oh, it’s just for a little while until our staffing issues are dealt with,” Manuel said as Rachel left. He pulled out the chair at the head of the table and plopped himself into it with a grunt. “Don’t want to get into it with scheduling anyhow, seeing as I’ve taken so many personal days as of late. The Guardalavaca trip last month, and we’ve got Veronica’s orientation and move-in coming up - ”

“Which, for the fiftieth time, you don’t have to go to,” Veronica spoke up. She smirked at Keith. “I’m going to college on the other side of town, and Papá acts like it’s the other side of the country. I’m not even officially ‘moving out’, I only have to live in the dorms during the week. I’ll be home on weekends.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t miss you on weekdays,” Manuel said.

Veronica rolled her eyes. “You didn’t do this with Luis or Marco.”

“Oh, I did, you just weren’t paying attention.”

“Veronica is starting her first semester at the Garrison Institute in couple of weeks,” Tania explained to Keith with a proud smile toward Veronica. “Are you very familiar with it?” Keith shook his head and Tania continued, “One of the best research universities out there, and Veronica managed to land herself an absolutely fantastic scholarship package, my little scientist.”

“Mamá, you’re embarrassing me,” Veronica groaned.

“What is it you’re majoring in again, mija?”

“Aeronautics.”

“That’s the one. Thank you, love,” she added to Rachel as the latter set the main course down in the middle of the table. “You can help yourself to as much as you want, Keith, dear.”

“Thank you,” Keith mumbled as he took a seat. The meaty dish that Rachel had set down - the ropa vieja, Keith assumed - was passed his way. It did look and smell appetizing, and Keith was certainly hungry; he’d only eaten a cereal bar for lunch. But he still played it safe, only placing a small scoop onto his plate before passing the dish along to Lance in the seat beside him, who piled a mountain quadruple the size of Keith’s onto his own plate.

“So, enough about me,” Veronica said as she took her own seat. “Looks like you’re going to be my new little brother, huh, Keith?”

Keith lifted one shoulder in a shrug and started picking at his ropa vieja with the tines of his fork. That was the second time he had been called that today, and he honestly wished they would stop. There were always certain foster homes that would do that, foster parents who would call him their ‘son’ and the other kids in the house his ‘brothers’ or ‘sisters’ and tried to act like they were an official ‘family’. It always just made it that much more jarring when they inevitably sent him packing again.

“Well, in that case, I wanna know a little about you,” Veronica said. “Tell me about yourself, Keith.”

“Um,” was all Keith said. He looked down and stuffed a bite of the ropa vieja into his mouth to keep from answering. It tasted pretty good, he decided, but more importantly it gave him an excuse not to talk. What sort of answer was she expecting, anyway? There was nothing to him worth talking about.

“What do you like to do for fun, Keith?” Manuel prompted when the silence had stretched on for several seconds.

“I, uh…” Keith said, trying to come up with something. “I - I read, I guess?”

“Play any sports?” Manuel asked. Keith shook his head. “Any musical instruments?” Another head shake. “Any school activities? Been in any clubs before?” No, and no.

“That’s something we ought to look into for you, right Keith?” said Tania. “Find something fun for you to do in your free time. Altea High’s got a lot of extracurriculars. And you could always tag along with Lance or Rachel to something. They’re both in drama club, and Rachel is in marching band and Lance is on the swim team. Any of those sound like they’d interest you?” When Keith just shrugged, she added, “Well, we can have Mr. Smythe go over the other clubs and such with you on Friday, see if anything sounds fun to you.”

“Mr. who?” Keith asked, frowning.

“The guidance counselor at the school,” Tania answered. “We’re going to meet with him before the school year starts to get your schedule finalized and get you oriented in the school a bit. There’s another get-to-know-you question, Keith! What’s your favorite school subject?”

“Uh, I - I dunno,” Keith answered slowly. “I’m… decent at science?”

“Another one,” Lance groaned. “My whole social circle is just one science geek after another.”

“Lance, don’t make fun,” Manuel scolded. “I think it’s great, we could be looking at another Garrison student in the family in a few years’ time.”

“Mm,” Keith hummed noncommittally. There was no point in even giving that possibility a second thought. He didn’t have the money to afford college, didn’t have the grades to ever go for scholarships, and the odds that he would even still be in this foster home long enough for the McClain’s to have to be concerned about his post-high-school plans were less than zero. But he didn’t bother saying it. They’d figure it out themselves soon enough.

“Come on, Papá, Keith just got here,” Lance said through a mouthful of food. “It’s too early for you to be trying to push him into nerd school.”

“You know, mijo,” Tania said, “If you took your own schoolwork more seriously I bet you’d be in the running for it too. You have the intelligence for it, you really do, if you would just apply yourself - ”

“I’ve already got a future planned out,” Lance interrupted. “Make a name for myself as a contestant on The Bachelorette, use my fame to market a line of luxury hair-care products, retire in Havana at age thirty-two and die peacefully in my hot tub at ninety-six.”

“See, I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not, and that terrifies me.”

“Serious as a stab wound. I dream big, Mamá. And I thought we were interrogating Keith, not me.”

“Huh?” Keith said, brows furrowing.

“We’re not interrogating him, Lance, we’re just getting to know him,” said Manuel. “Come on, Keith, back on that. What sort of foods do you like to eat?”

“Uh, I dunno,” Keith answered. “Anything, really.”

“How about music?” Rachel asked.

“I already said I don’t play anything.”

“I meant listening to,” Rachel said, rolling her eyes.

“Oh,” said Keith. “Um, I - I like - I like rock, I guess.”

“Any favorite movies? TV shows?” asked Veronica.

“Not really…”

“How long you been in foster care?” Lance asked.

Keith bit his lip and looked down at his lap, his grip on his fork tightening as Tania scolded, “Lance, not the time.”

“What?” Lance asked. “It was just a question. To get to know Keith better, you know?”

“I don’t - I’d rather not, um, not talk about - ” Keith stammered.

“That’s all right, Keith, that’s all right,” Tania said hastily. “You don’t need to talk about your… experience if you don’t want to.”

“I was just curious, jeez,” Lance muttered, lifting his fork and stabbing it into his rice. “Didn’t mean to freak anyone out or anything.”

“Let’s just - let’s just try to be sensitive about the situation, okay, Lance?”

Keith kept his eyes on his own plate as they spoke, and he could feel his face reddening all the while. Okay, so, clearly Tania had some knowledge about his past. He didn’t know if she knew the actual and distressingly high number of homes he’d been through, or details of what had happened with them, but she knew enough to know that his time in foster care had not been a happy story. And she had just made the rest of the family fully aware of that as well, and Keith squirmed in his seat as he felt the others’ curious eyes on him.

“Sorry, sorry,” Lance grunted. He took a couple of quiet bites of his food before quietly adding to his mother, “¿Se nos permite preguntar por la cicatriz?”

“No, Lance,” Tania said firmly, shooting him a glare, or at least a close facsimile of one; Tania’s face really was not designed for anger.

Keith glanced between the two of them, confused. “Wait, what did he say?” he asked.

“Nothing, dearie,” Tania sighed.

“But what - ?”

“That’s something we’ll need to do for you now that you’re in the family, isn’t it,” Manuel said. “Help you learn Spanish. Have you got him scheduled for Spanish at the high school, Tania?”

“Not yet, we’ll be going over that with Mr. Smythe,” Tania answered. “Would Spanish class be okay with you, Keith? Altea has a foreign language requirement, but they also teach French, German, Japanese, and Russian, if any of those are - ”

“Nah, um, Spanish is fine,” Keith mumbled. He returned his attention to his plate. Whatever Lance had said, it was obviously not meant for his ears. Fine. He was used to that.

“Are you enjoying your meal, Keith?” Tania asked. Keith nodded wordlessly and continued eating.

The others tried to pick him apart a little more during the rest of the meal, but as Keith just grew quieter, the focus gradually, and thankfully, turned to the others, discussing their lives and back-to-school plans and other miscellany that wound up becoming a buzz in Keith’s ears. The McClains were a very talkative family, and Lance was frankly a louder talker than necessary. It was all starting to grow exhausting and just a little overwhelming.

The strain may have shown on his face, because Tania didn’t push when Keith turned down the offer of second helpings of the food, and when the dinner was finished, she picked his plate up for him. “Don’t worry about dishes or anything tonight,” she said. “Just focus on settling in for now. Tomorrow we can look at fitting you into the family chore chart. Sound good?”

Keith nodded, taking the fact that everyone was getting up from the table as his own invitation to leave. He pushed his chair in with a scrape and headed upstairs, shutting the door to his room behind him and flopping onto the bed, figuring that’s where he’d remain for the rest of the evening.

Things seemed okay so far. Not perfect, but okay. And unless they were putting on a facade for him to start out with - a possibility that he couldn’t outright dismiss no matter how friendly the family may seem - he could deal with the McClains for now. He didn’t know if he’d actually be able to enjoy himself here, or feel comfortable here, but that wasn’t his priority.

He had given up on the possibility of enjoying or being comfortable in any of his homes. As long as he was surviving in it, that was good enough for Keith.

And he was pretty sure he could survive this one.

[sunlightdances]

Half of Your Heart (1/6)

Title: Half of Your Heart Author: Katie @sunlightdances Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader Summary: All you’ve ever wanted your entire life was to have a job working at a National Park. You finally get a chance, but things are not as they seem. Working in a remote area of Rocky Mountain National Park, you just hope you can get through your first summer. Rating/Genre/Warnings: Eventual M. Fluff, a little angst, and smut. Warnings for canonical descriptions of violence and harsh language. Disclaimer: I don’t own Supernatural, or any characters from the show. Any similarities between descriptions and plot in this fanfic and the TV show are coincidence. My work is not to be posted on another site (except for reblogs) without my express written permission! Author’s Note: This has been a long time coming. I wanted to do another series as soon as I completed my first, and a recent trip to Colorado got my wheels spinning again. Thank you to everyone who has been so encouraging. I hope you enjoy it! Thanks again to @deanssweetheart23 for the banner!

Links are being stupid, so you can find the masterlist for this fic on my blog in my sidebar!

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.

.

Your first thought when you pull your truck up the long gravel drive is that this cannot possibly be the right address. You frown, looking down at the map on your passenger seat, a bright red circle over the area you were in.

When you got your assignment from the Park Service, it was a dream come true. Now though, looking ahead at the derelict cabin ahead of you, it was looking more like a nightmare.

You cut the engine and lean on your steering wheel, blowing a strand of hair out of your eyes. “Okay,” you sigh to yourself, “Let’s go see what the hell I got myself into.”

You haul a bag out of your truck and head up to the rickety front steps, watching carefully so you don’t end up stepping right through a weak spot.

Your interview with your supervisor was suspiciously brief, and you didn’t get a lot of details. He seems like he’s not much for words, so you had just taken it with a grain of salt in the moment. Now? You wish you knew more about the area you were in and what exactly the full extent of your duties are.

“There’s a campground at the Northeast end of the Park. It’s not as popular as our other campgrounds, but we get mountain climbers and hikers out there. It needs some cleaning up. I’m going to send you and another team out there to get started.”

Just then, the door bursts open and two men almost fly through it, each of them glaring at the other, straightening their uniforms as they struggle for breath.

“Sorry we’re late.”

Your supervisor glares at them. “You’re lucky Bobby put in for you, or--” He stops mid sentence, glancing at you. Awkwardly, he clears his throat. “Anyway. Y/N, this is Sam and Dean. Sam and Dean, this is Y/N. She’s new.”

“So are we.” Sam says with a friendly smile, shaking his hand. You’re struck at first by how tall he is.

“The three of you are going to be doing some maintenance. Some of the campsites need to be cleared out of brush, and the main shower building needs some work.” He turns to you, “I know this probably isn’t what you pictures when you graduated, but we all start somewhere.”

“Honestly as long as I’m working here in the Park, I don’t care what I’m doing.” You say honestly, and you can feel -- what was his name? Dean? You can feel his eyes on you. You blush, feeling self conscious.

You supervisor smiles, a little rough around the edges. “There’s an old cabin at the end of the road towards the campground. It’s a little rough, but nice enough. You’re staying there, Y/N. Sam and Dean are going to take up the role of camp hosts and stay in the campground.”

That brings you to now, inside the sparse living quarters you’ve been assigned. You’re not a materialistic person, you don’t care about that, but-- when you heard this campground was remote, they weren’t kidding.

There’s not even a camp store close by, so you make a mental note to make the drive to Estes Park and force yourself to deal with the crowds long enough to do some heavy duty grocery and supply shopping.

A knock on the doorframe as you’re standing there with your bags makes you jump, and you turn around to see Dean, one of the other rangers standing there, a sheepish smile on his face.

“Sorry - I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay,” you smile weakly. “Are you settled in at the campground?”

He nods. “Just down the road. Have you been over there yet?”

“Not yet.” You set your bag down by your feet. “Looks like I have my work cut out for me here, too.”

Dean grins, eyes roving over every inch of your new home. You notice the way his eyes linger on the flimsy lock and the broken windows, and watch curiously as his expression hardens, just a bit. “My brother and I can help you fix this place up. All the way out here… you should at least get the windows replaced.”

You shrug. “The Park Service is supposed to handle all of that. I don’t think--”

“It’ll be faster if we help you do it.” Dean suggests. “Unless you don’t want-- sorry if I’m overstepping--”

“No, no.” You take a step closer to him. “I appreciate it. Thank you. I just-- I’m still trying to wrap my head around all of this, that’s all.”

He’s quiet for a minute, biting his bottom lip. “Well, I don’t think we actually have to get started on the campground until tomorrow. So just walk down there if you need anything.”

“Thanks.”

He gives you a little wave as he heads out the door, and you try not to feel self conscious when he looks back over his shoulder as he gets to the end of the gravel drive.

.

.

.

4 hours later you’re exhausted. You managed to find some cleaning supplies tucked away in a closet and scrubbed down the entire cabin. There’s not much in the way of furniture, but a new mattress was supplied for you, and you collapse into it with relief.

A knock on your door makes you groan, and you barely manage to make it to your feet, shuffling into what is technically the living room so you can answer the door.

The other, taller one -- Sam, your mind supplies -- is there, a shy smile on his face, and a toolbox in hand. “Hi. Dean mentioned you need a new lock put on?”

“What are you guys -- the welcome committee?” You tease.

“Figured it’s the least I can do if we’re going to be doing manual labor together,” He says, grinning.

“I appreciate it. So… have you guys been with the Park Service for long?”

“Ah… no. Not really. A few months.”

You hum non committedly as you watch him get to work, and in the distance you can make out the sounds of families at the campground. It brings a small smile to your face - you remember the trips with your family as a big reason why you wanted to work at a National Park in the first place.

“Always wanted to be a handyman?” You ask, and he snorts.

“Not exactly. You know how it is. Shit duty before you can get the real work.”

You frown. “Yeah.” You stare out the window, admiring the view of the Rockies. “It’s beautiful out here though, I’m just glad to be here at all.”

Through the open door as Sam works, you can see Dean approaching, taking a minute to admire the way he looks in his uniform. You’re not blind, he’s a good looking guy. There’s something there keeping you at a distance though, the clench of his jaw and the way his eyes dart around making you a little unsettled.

“Were you calling me?” He asks his brother immediately, not even bothering to look at you. You bristle a bit, but ignore it.

“What?” Sam looks up briefly from where he’s finishing screwing in the plate on the new door lock. “No. I’ve been here the whole time.”

“I thought--” Dean looks back out the open door. “Never mind. Are you almost done? I need to talk to you.”

Again, you bristle, because it was like night and day with this guy. Wasn’t he just here this morning having a polite, borderline-flirty conversation with you? You roll your eyes at yourself, because you don’t have time to care about this. Sam and Dean are coworkers, and for right now, neighbors. That’s it.

“That’ll do it,” Sam says. “You should be all set. The key is the same, but just a little more secure.” He smiles at you.

“I appreciate it. This place doesn’t need any help being creepy, so at least the lock will give me peace of mind.”

“If you need anything else, let me know.” Sam says, and you watch out of the corner of your eye as Dean rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Thank you, Sam.” You reply, laying it on extra thick, the petty part of you wanting nothing more than to annoy the older Winchester as much as possible. God forbid you actually take up Sam’s offer to help out, not to mention the fact that Dean was the one who pointed out all the repairs that needed to be done.

Men. You’ll never understand them.

The Winchesters leave, and you feel exhaustion once again settle into your bones. You’re finally going to take that nap, and nothing is going to interrupt you this time.

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.

Dean’s shoulders are tense as he and Sam walk back to the campground. Dean can’t shake the feeling that something is off - especially because he knows he wasn’t imagining hearing Sam’s voice earlier as he was doing research.

“You know, you could have been a little nicer back there.” Sam says.

“I was distracted.”

“Still. It’s bad enough she’s getting roped into this whole thing--”

“That wasn’t our call. We had no say in that.”

“I just find it weird that the guy in charge would bring us in here knowing full well what we could be up against but still puts someone out here alone in a cabin. Doesn’t even bother to close the campground.”

“You think he has something to do with it?”

Sam shrugs, stopping as they get to the door of their trailer, pulling it open. “Wouldn’t be the craziest thing that’s ever happened.”

Dean frowns. He can’t make sense of this. The attacks that have been happening were written off earlier on as bear attacks. But after the frequency ratcheted up, no one could pretend anymore. The director is an old hunter friend of Bobby’s and decided he couldn’t handle this one by himself.

“We should go around and introduce ourselves to the campers,” Dean says, thinking out loud. “Hopefully we can get some stories out of some of them and figure out what we’re dealing with here.”

Sam nods. “Good idea.”

They’re both quiet for a minute, before Dean smirks, “Did you see her checking me out in this uniform, though?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Dude.”

“What? She was.”

Sam snorts. “You’re so full of yourself.”

.

Tumblr is being dumb about links, so find the next part by going to my masterlist > Dean fics > Half of Your Heart > Masterlist! 

Tagging friends: @lipstickandwhiskey @deanssweetheart23 @sixtysevenandwhiskey @lastactiontricia

[minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong]

Arranged Chapter Eight

Description: Y/N is a struggling student in Seoul: working multiple jobs, living in a broom closet apartment, and often sacrificing her dignity for the sake of her livelihood. What happens when a handsome stranger presents her with an offer she cannot refuse at the moment she needs it most?

Pairing: Min Yoongi x (f) Reader

Word Count: 6,661

Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Chaebol!Au, Company!Au, Arranged Marriage!Au

Warnings: Coarse language, although not frequently.

A/N: Hi guys! I’m very excited to give you guys this chapter! I’m so grateful for all of you. The support of this story has been incredible. Truly, it’s more than I could have ever dreamed of. I’m honored and humbled that you guys enjoy the story and enjoy my writing. That said, here’s the next chapter! As always, my asks are open for anyone who wants to chat! (Especially if you want to chat about that selfie Yoongi uploaded on Twitter yesterday because I think he’s trying to fight me.) I’ll respond to every message I receive within the day! If you have any feedback, critique, questions, or anything please feel free to send me a message. I hope you guys like the update and please stay healthy and rest up! 

–Mercury

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen, Chapter Sixteen (END)

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“Namjoon what…what the hell are you doing here?” I asked, shaking my head as my hand fell from Yoongi’s. 

Namjoon approached me, his grin never faltering, as he chuckled. “I just got a job here last week! Trust me, I’m as surprised as you are. I heard you got married?” he said, smiling.

I nodded. “Yeah. Uh…this is Yoongi. My…,” I paused as I took a moment to think about how to introduce him. Namjoon and Yoongi had met before, after all. “My husband.” My heart fluttered as I spoke the word.

Namjoon bowed politely, the papers he held close to his chest slipping slightly. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Min,” he said before the stack of papers on top, the one held together by a loose paperclip, slid from his grip entirely.

I gasped and fell to my knees, grabbing the stack before it hit the ground and fanned out everywhere. Namjoon’s eyes went wide at the sight of me on all fours on the hardwood floor. We met gazes and I took a moment to search his expression. Had he really forgotten the experience with Yoongi from a few weeks before? In his face I saw only concern and quickly righted myself, standing to my feet slowly and denying Yoongi’s hand as he offered it to me to steady me.

“Here you go, Namjoon,” I said. I handed him the stack of papers with a soft smile. 

He returned it. “Thank you,” he said. “Ah, I guess I’ll see you at lunch?” he said, raising his brows as his smile deepened, revealing his dimples.

I nodded. “Sure.”

Namjoon bowed to Yoongi once again before walking off down the hallway and into the office itself. I peered up at Yoongi and his expression, much like Namjoon’s, was unreadable. I pouted slightly as he refused to meet my eyes, all previous nervousness replaced now with confusion and frustration. 

“How can he be here?”

“He works here.”

“I got that,” I said with a sigh. “But…why?”

Yoongi peeked at me from above and shrugged before walking ahead into the office. “I hired him personally,” he said, his back growing distant as he disappeared into the sea of cubicles, searching for mine.

I had so many things to ask him, but settled for just following behind him with an angry sigh.

The supervisor appointed to me, Yoongi’s own assistant Jaehee, showed me the ropes and before long I was logging files into Excel sheets and reviewing reports from the different departments. I’d had very few expectations when I agreed to taking this job, but I certainly hadn’t expected for it to be so tedious, so dry. Was this the sort of thing Yoongi did all day? 

Occasionally, I took secret looks over the back of my chair towards where his office was situated, right at the corner of the floor, giving him the best view. Every time my eyes found the clouded glass that separated us, I felt a pang of frustration and…something else. He’d held my hand so tenderly before, with so much care and softness. I’d never been touched that way. 

But he’d also brushed me off when I’d asked about Namjoon. Once again, it seemed that he was making decisions and calling shots without my knowledge or consent. If Namjoon was qualified for the position here and he’d applied, then far be it from me to stand in the way. But if he’d been hired under insidious circumstances, possibly to protect my secret with Yoongi…

Then I didn’t want to stand for my friend being manipulated like a pawn in a chess match.

It was with this cocktail of emotions that I stood from my desk to grab a drink of water at the fountain, several of my new coworkers gathered there. Each of them bowed to me and I responded in turn, but we didn’t really speak. That seemed to be how the workday went: each of us performing our own individual tasks and mingling as little as possible.

“Miss Y/N,” said a voice I’d become far too familiar with from behind me.

I sighed as I turned to see Jaehee, the young short guy, who was standing stiffly beside me. “Hello,” I said to him.

He nodded. “Mr. Min would like to see you,” he said.

I raised my brows. “He would?”

“He wants a report on the analytics you’ve analyzed today,” he said.

“But I’ve hardly analyzed any. I’ve only been working for four hours.”

Jaehee nodded. “I understand, Miss, but he wants to see you.”

The coworkers on my other side chuckled together. “How scandalous to call his new wife to his office on her first day,” whispered one woman to another.

The second woman stared me up and down before setting her lips thin in an effort to conceal her laughter. “I’m sure he wants to do more than just see her,” she said.

I cleared my throat. Suddenly, an enclosed space with Yoongi sounded far superior to an open space with these women as they teased me. I turned on my heel and brushed past Jaehee with a soft smile his way. 

“Did you need something?” I asked as Yoongi’s white door clicked shut behind me.

He had removed his suit jacket and was sitting at his glass-topped desk now, fingers folded and eyes turned to the side to gaze out the window. He’d rolled the sleeves of his button-down up to his elbows. I could see the latticework of veins beneath the porcelain of his skin and had to force my eyes away. His dark eyes slid to the chair in front of his desk and I followed his silent cue, backing the chair slightly so I wouldn’t be too close. He looked at me slowly, almost lazily, and sighed as he took in my expression.

“You’re mad at me,” he said.

I nodded. “A little.”

“Why? Because I hired Namjoon?” he asked, his brows furrowed.

I shook my head. “Namjoon has an IQ of 148. He has experience working for a small business. He has incredible people skills and he’s a Yonsei graduate. He’s obviously an incredible candidate for a position here,” I said. “I want to know if there are any reasons besides his qualifications for his hiring.”

Yoongi sighed and his expression softened slightly. He stood to his feet and reached for something in one of his drawers. He rifled through it for a moment before coming around to the front of the desk and, to my great shock and chagrin, crouching down in front of my knees. I wondered what he was up to, what he might do, but his eyes lifted to meet mine and I felt some of my anger melt. I wanted to run my fingers through his well-styled hair, to touch his neck where the collar of his shirt met his skin. He seemed so soft below me, and it was difficult to restrain myself.

But before I could feel too embarrassed about my urges, his fingers were on my exposed knee, his eyes falling there too. I jerked away from him. “What are you doing?” I asked.

He chuckled softly, his fingers hooking around the back of my knee to pull me back towards him. Carefully, he pulled a bandaid from the item he’d produced from his drawer, an item I could now see was a first-aid kit. He peeled the tape off both sides and gently smoothed the adhesive down on the top of my knee. As I watched him, I became aware of a dull stinging there and was startled to see that I’d been bleeding slightly from a wound I must have acquired when I dove for Namjoon’s papers. 

I flushed as he continued to smooth the bandaid, giving the top of my knee a soft squeeze once he was done. He packed away his first aid kit and set it to the side on the floor, sitting up and leaning back against his desk so he could face me properly.

“I hired him before we got married,” he said.

I raised my eyebrows at him. “You…what?”

He nodded. “We got talking that day at the instrument store. Turns out he’s a business major. He wants to climb the corporate ladder and open his own business someday, like his dad did,” said Yoongi softly, slowly. His voice was low and deep as his eyes focused somewhere behind me.

“So you…,” I edged, trying to get him to reveal more.

He smiled gently. “I asked him about you and he spoke very fondly. He said you’re smart, but a little impulsive. Strong, but stubborn. He mentioned that you were a kind person,” he said.

“He’s too generous,” I said with burning cheeks.

Yoongi shook his head. “No, I think he’s right,” he said. “Anyway, I gave him my business card and said if he was ever looking for a job he could come to me.”

“So it was…innocent?”

He shook his head. “Not entirely. I offered him the position because he seemed like a smart kid. But when you agreed to the marriage, I became a little nervous. I thought he might become trouble, since he was there the day we met, one of the only people who saw us. So I offered him a job on site when he came in for an interview a week or so after you called,” said Yoongi. “I didn’t want loose ends.”

“Loose ends…,” I said. What a way to talk about a human being…

“But I wouldn’t have hired him if he hadn’t spoken so highly of you. By then, I knew you were the person I wanted to partner with. I’m a good judge of character, and I knew you were a good person. So if he could see that in you, then he must be a good judge of character too. That’s what I thought.”

I blushed. “Now you’re being too generous.”

“I still disagree,” he said with a smile my way. “Anyway, mostly I figured that if you were to work for me you might want to have a familiar face around. This workplace can be a little…,” he started, then chuckled and shook his head. 

I nodded. “I know what you mean,” I said as I recalled those women at the water fountain. I wrapped my arms around my torso with a sigh. 

“You don’t look pleased.”

I shook my head and chuckled to myself. “No, it’s not that. I’m…I’m glad you hired him. You’re right about him. He’s smart and he could do a lot of good for your company,” I said. “But hiring him so that I could have a friend…isn’t that too kind?”

He smirked. “I’m a very kind man, Y/N,” he said, touching my calf with the tip of his polished shoe, almost like he was teasing.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” I said, gazing up at him as the city glittered in the afternoon sun behind him. “Sometimes I think you’re the most compassionate person I’ve ever met, and other times I think you’re just…pragmatic.”

“Can’t a person be both?”

I blushed as I pondered this. “I…suppose.”

He smiled and pushed off the desk, coming to stand before me. Softly, as if I may break at his touch, he pushed an unruly hair from my face, guiding it to the side of my cheek. My skin burned and my heart raced as I saw the softness in his chocolate eyes, trained on my face. His lips were still parted in a lopsided grin, and it was all I could do to sit still as he backed away. 

“We’re friends,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “I take care of my friends.”

Friends…

“Hey, Y/N,” said Namjoon as I entered the break room in a daze. I was still thinking about Yoongi, about his hands on my skin, about his eyes looking at me with all that softness…

About what it meant to be his friend.

I shook my head and smiled at Namjoon. “Hey. How come you didn’t tell me you were working here?” I asked.

He smirked and took a bite of his sandwich. “How come you didn’t invite me to the wedding?” he asked, raising a brow.

I blushed and shook my head. I sat in the chair across from him. The break room was nearly empty, leaving the two of us to sit comfortably. “I wasn’t really…in charge of the guest list.”

He chuckled. “You don’t have to explain. I’m assuming your relationship is…nonconventional.”

“That would be one way to put it.”

He offered me the other half of his sandwich, a triangle of white bread and also a triangular white flag. I accepted it graciously and began to nibble at it. “You like him at least?” asked Namjoon.

It was clear the two of us were in an understanding of sorts, but neither of us were putting it to words. Neither of us could. “Yes,” I said with a sigh.

He grinned and patted my arm, his dimples sinking into his cheeks. “Hey! You guys were holding hands this morning. Don’t look so sad.”

“I don’t know what any of it means.”

He pondered this for a moment. “Have you tried talking to Hana about it?” he asked.

I smiled. “The way you said her name just now…,” I said, raising my brows.

He rolled his eyes and glanced away with a smile. “Leave me alone. I have just as much of a right to have a crush as you do.”

“At least I’m married to mine.”

He scowled at me. “But honestly. I feel like she’d know how to help.”

I shook my head. “I feel…distant with her. Every day there are more things I can’t tell her about. I don’t know how to face her.”

“How about facing her honestly?”

“I don’t know if I can…,” I said. “I don’t know where I’d begin explaining things to her. And I don’t know how much I can explain. I’m in a…weird circumstance.”

He nodded. “Well, all I know is she was mopey at the store when she found out you were engaged. I think you’d be kind to at least spend some time with her. Just her.”

I sighed and set the sandwich down again. I didn’t have much of an appetite when I thought about Hana. “What if I wanna be selfish? What if I don’t want to drag her all the way into this? What if...what if I’m scared?”

He thought for a moment before smiling at me gently. “Then you have to be okay with the consequences.”

The rest of the day passed pensively as now and again my fingers would brush the top of that bandaid or my eyes would linger on the clouded glass of Yoongi’s office. I was focused, of course. I wasn’t the kind of person whose work performance was so easily shaken. But I was preoccupied, dazed, and thinking too much for my own good.

Every time Namjoon passed by he offered me a smile and while on one hand I found it extremely comforting, on the other I felt heavy under the weight of his eyes. He was right. Hana deserved to be treated with at least my respect — respect enough to talk to her and tell her how I was feeling. Tell her what my life looked like now that it was completely different.

I had to be okay with the consequences, huh?

“Are you ready to go home?” asked Yoongi from over my shoulder, causing me to jump and turn towards him. 

I rubbed my dry eyes and gazed out the windows onto the dusk outside. Had the day already passed? “Uh…yeah. I’m ready.”

He smiled just barely and nodded, his jacket hanging over his forearm. “Want to grab something for dinner before we go home? To celebrate your first day?”

I pondered this. “No drinking?” I asked.

He laughed and nodded. “Not if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t.”

He offered me his hand to help me from my seat and held onto it for a fraction longer than a friend would. He released my fingers and nodded towards the elevator. I glanced around the office. It seemed Namjoon had already left. Most everyone had already left, actually. We walked out to the street and without stopping Yoongi continued to the left of the building, following the well-lit sidewalk down into the heart of Gangnam. He seemed to know his way and, veiled in the anonymity of the city lights with the daylight’s final display of colors playing out behind his head, he seemed in his element. Natural even. I couldn’t stop looking at him.

But I had to.

Friends don’t gaze longingly at friends.

“Where are we going?”

He peeked at me out the corner of his eye and smiled. “We’re getting pork belly.”

I raised my brows. “You like stuff like that?”

He laughed and nodded. “Don’t sound so surprised. Just because I was born with a silver spoon doesn’t mean I don’t like delicious food.”

“Delicious and…cheap.”

He nodded and a smile danced on his lips, lights danced in his eyes, my heart danced in my chest. He ran his hands through his hair and it softened at his touch, falling gently into half-held waves. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, lazily, before he reached his fingers out toward mine, wiggling them.

“What?” I asked.

“Give me your hand,” he said.

I blushed. “My…my hand? Why?”

“Why else? I want to hold it,” he said. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like it was natural.

He continued to wiggle his fingers, the gesture far too cute for someone as serious as him, and raised his brows. “O-Okay,” I managed to say before lacing my fingers with his.

He sighed and nodded with a chuckle. “You did really well today,” he said.

I shook my head. “I’m just following directions.”

“I looked at you a few times today. When I had to get coffee or use the bathroom,” he said, nodding with a slight pout. “You looked focused. Jaehee praised you.”

I rolled my eyes. “With the way you talk about Jaehee that’s hardly a compliment,” I said.

He nudged me with his elbow. “I’m trying to be nice to you,” he said.

“Why though? You don’t need to.”

He thought for a moment, his hand warm against mine, and shrugged. “I guess I’m thinking about what you said. A few things you’ve said.”

“Which things?”

“You said you couldn’t tell if I was kind or not,” he said slowly. “For some reason…I guess I want to prove to you that I am.”

I chuckled. “It was never a question of kindness. I know you’re kind.”

“You said you didn’t think I was a bad person…I don’t know if I agree, but I want to try, you know? To be a person that journalists write good things about,” he said then laughed. “If nothing else, then just for your sake. It’s not good being associated with me, is it?”

I shrugged. “It’s not bad,” I said. “And I don’t really care about any of that. People can say whatever they want, but it doesn’t change your character.”

“Do you think you know my character pretty well?” he asked.

I pursed my lips as I thought. “No,” I said, and I thought I saw his expression fall only slightly. His grip on my fingers loosened by a fraction, but it was too precious a moment to let go of so I held tighter and gave him a smile. “But I’d like to.”

He turned to me, surprised, and a smile spread across his face very slowly. “Then you’re one of the few,” he said with a chuckle, leading the way inside a smoky restaurant.

“No! No, God. I’ve never,” said Yoongi through laughter.

I joined him. “What-why? I’ve heard skinny dipping is really fun!” I exclaimed, pointing to him with my chopstick as he cooked our second round of meat. 

He rolled his eyes, still laughing, and shook his head. “You say that like you know what it’s like…,” he teased with a smirk.

I gaped. “No! I haven’t!”

He continued laughing for a long moment and I joined him. We’d been playing some sort of lazy 20 Questions game for half an hour, laughing and eating. Something about sharing a meal at a tiny table, watching our food cook, sitting in the hazy restaurant where conversation was so loud we both needed to shout to be heard…something about it had made us loosen up. Like we could afford to have a little fun. God knows we needed it.

“Okay, okay. I have a question,” he said, placing a piece of lettuce to his lips before shoving a slice of pork into his mouth, lettuce and all. It was his strange way of eating meat wraps. I’d tried doing it during our first round only to puncture a hole into the lettuce and earn the incessant teasing of Yoongi. “If you didn’t have to sleep, what would you do with all your free time?” 

I chuckled and wrapped my food like a normal person, giving him a pointed look as I did. “What if I like sleeping?”

He smirked. “So if given more free time, you’d still sleep?”

I shrugged. “Probably.”

He laughed loudly and nodded. “When you say it so seriously like that…I kind of agree.”

“Mm,” I murmured as I chewed. “I’ve got one.”

“Fire away.”

“I saw this on a website once when I had to research ice-breaker questions for a work dinner once,” I said with a laugh. “It’s a good one.”

“I’m ready,” he said, bracing himself against the small round table and setting his chopsticks down to offer me his undivided attention. 

“If you had a clock that would countdown to any one event in your life, like an event that hasn’t happened yet, what event would you want it to countdown to?” I asked with a smug smile. This had always been my favorite question.

He chuckled before he became overcome with thought and his expression changed from playful to stoic. He sighed and pouted his lips, furrowed his brow, set his jaw. He was serious again. “I would want…I’d want it to countdown to the moment when I’m truly content.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Content?”

He nodded. “When I feel like I’m not sprinting anymore. When I can finally rest.”

I peeked at him nervously. He was looking at the meat as it sizzled on the grill between us. “Do you always feel that way? Like you’re sprinting?”

He nodded again. “Ever since I was a kid, there was a lot that was expected of me,” he said, then looked at me with frantic eyes and waved his hands. “Not that I’m complaining! I’m very fortunate.”

I shook my head. “But that doesn’t mean you’re immune to bad things. You can still go through hard times like the rest of us.”

“Yeah,” he said, swirling his beer. “I grew up hearing that I’d be CEO someday, that I’d have to take over. I heard that if I ever slipped up, if I ever showed a face that wasn’t poised and perfect and professional, that I’d risk ruining it all.”

“That’s a huge amount of pressure,” I said.

He chuckled. “I know,” he sighed. “It put a lot of strain on possible friendships. I can count on one hand the amount of people I have in my life who genuinely care for me,” he said. I remembered what Jungkook said. That people seemed to stick around because they had to, not because they wanted to. I felt an odd cocktail of pity and outrage for Yoongi. “I felt like…I don’t know, like I didn’t have any right to drag other people into the stress of my life. Like they didn’t deserve it.”

“So…you isolated yourself?” I asked.

He nodded. “I did. I do,” he said. “There was…there was one girl when I was twenty. In college. She didn’t care about my background. She didn’t mind that I had these…circumstances, these expectations. She was wonderful,” he said with a smile so fond it made my whole body ache. “But she wasn’t from a great family. In the end I pushed her away…because I felt I would be doing her an injustice by bringing her close to me if she’d never be able to stay.”

I blushed. I’d never heard this story before, never even considered it. It hadn’t occurred to me that Yoongi may have been in love before, may have given his heart away before, may have wanted someone like I wanted him before. My heart clenched a little at the way his eyes went distant, like he could see her if he focused hard enough on the crack in the wooden table. Maybe he could…

“That’s no way to live,” I said, then blushed and shook my head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say something like that. It slipped out.”

He smiled, almost sadly, and shook his head. “Don’t worry. I won’t fire you.”

“Isn’t it…aren’t you ever lonely?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I suppose,” he said, then chuckled and turned a few pieces of meat over with his tongs. “Not as much lately.”

My heart raced. Was that possibly because of me?

No. I had to stop thinking things that made me hopeful.

“Hm,” I said, mostly to fill the dead air between us.

Yoongi peeked at me from across the table and raised his eyebrows. “I figured you might understand. You have things you can’t tell people. About us, about…this,” he said with a nod. “It can be lonely holding onto so many secrets.”

Hana.

I cleared my throat and nodded. “What choice do I have?”

He took another bite of meat and chewed on it. He also chewed on my words. After a moment he sighed and gave me a smile. Another one that seemed a little sad. “All I know is that I wouldn’t wish it on someone. Least of all you.” He returned his attention to the meat as it sizzled between us, leaving me to sit in a smothering mixture of indecision and melancholy.

I awoke the next day smelling of smoke. It was in my hair, in my shirt, in my skin. And as I exited my bedroom and found Yoongi sipping his coffee with a bowl of fruit before him, I could vaguely smell it on him too past the sharp pine of his cologne. 

He glanced at me over his glasses and smiled. “Ready for work?”

“I don’t know if ‘ready’ is the word I’d choose,” I said with a laugh.

He smiled and patted the chair beside him. “You can have my grapes. I noticed you eat them in the middle of the night.”

I blushed as I sat down. “You…you saw?”

His smile turned to a playful smirk and he shrugged. “It’s my apartment. I see everything.”

I swallowed hard and stared at him with wide eyes. “E-everything?”

For a moment he stared at me, smirking, before his facade broke and he was in stitches, laughing at me with his eyes pleasantly scrunched up. He leaned back in his chair and offered me a comforting nudge on the calf with his slippered foot. “I’m teasing. I sometimes get up at night to drink some juice or milk and I notice the bag is open and your light is on. I just figured you liked them.”

I popped one in my mouth slowly and nodded. “I do,” I said.

He smiled. “Good. Because I’m not a fan. Eat them for me, okay?”

I nodded and grabbed for another. “If you say so, Boss.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “I’m packing a lunch today. Do you want me to pack you one too?” he asked.

Lunch.

Who would I eat lunch with today? I couldn’t bear the thought of Namjoon lecturing me about Hana again, since his voice was starting to sound eerily similar to the voice of reason. And I couldn’t very well hop into Yoongi’s office uninvited and eat there…

I remembered for only the briefest moment the expression on Yoongi’s face as he told me the story of that girl, a memory I regarded with a pang of sadness in my stomach for a number of reasons. He’d pushed her away because he was scared. He mentioned before that he pushed most people away. He didn’t feel like he had the right to collect kind people in his life, like he would be dragging them down by associating with them. And, as much as that guilt of his made me upset on his behalf, I could understand it.

But his eyes had seemed so somber, so sad.

And he’d said he didn’t wish that on me…

“No,” I said, my voice starting me with its clarity. “I’m, uh…I’m gonna catch up with Hana at the instrument store. Catch up.”

He glanced at me and I was sure he understood what I meant. It was one of those rare moments when I felt more similar than different to Yoongi. He nodded his head with a gentle smile. “I think that’s an excellent idea. Do you know what you’ll say to her?”

“Well…she already knows this is…arranged,” I said.

He nodded. “I figured. She was there that day too, right?”

“Yes. But there are things that I…haven’t told her,” I said, twiddling my thumbs. Like my feelings for Yoongi, or the fact that his father knew too. Like Jungkook. Things that might possibly complicate things for her in the future. “I don’t know…how to proceed. You know the saying, ‘The less I know the better’?” 

He ate around his grapes, letting me pick at them, and speared a strawberry with his fork. “Mhm.”

“Isn’t that appropriate here?”

He shrugged. “Do what you think is best. I trust your judgement.”

“I don’t want her to be used as a pawn someday,” I said, my brows etching into a furrow.

Yoongi smiled. “I’ll protect whoever is close to you, Y/N. I give you my word.”

But could he protect someone from his own father?

I sat on the table in the instrument store, Hana sitting beside me as we closed the shop down for lunchtime. It had been a few days since we’d seen each other, and a few more since we’d really talked, and a few more since things had felt normal between us. She peered at me from beside the cash register, her eyes warm and soft as they scanned my features.

I turned to look at her and gave her a smile. “I’m sorry.”

She raised her brows. “What? What for?”

“For being so distant. For avoiding you.”

She shook her head. “You’ve been busy.”

“I’ve been scared.”

Hana’s soft features went sharp with confusion. “Scared of what? What’s so scary that you can’t even tell me?” she asked.

“I love Yoongi,” I said. “And I don’t know what to do about it.” The truth came tumbling out before I could stop it.

She stared at me with wide eyes. “And how does he feel?”

I hesitated before responding. If someone ever found out about my feelings, about their lack of reciprocation, it might come back to Hana. He might come back to Hana. “I don’t know.”

She laughed and rubbed my back. “Well, that’s nothing to be scared about! So what if you love your husband?”

“And his father…he knows. About everything. I really don’t know how…maybe he ran a background check on me or something. Who knows,” I said with a humorless laugh. “I don’t know what he might do if he finds out you know too. If it gets out it…it would devastate the company. I think he might do anything to keep that information under wraps.”

Suddenly, realization came over her features and she nodded. “That’s why.”

“That’s why.”

“You were trying to protect me?” she asked. “Well, let him try to scare me. What can he take away from me?”

I laughed and wiped beneath my eyes. “Everybody has something to lose. Trust me on that.”

She sighed and nodded. “Jeez. I never thought being the wife of a millionaire would be so complicated,” she said with a laugh, digging her elbow into my side.

I turned to her, her beaming, happy face. I only ever wanted her to wear that expression, that carefree, joyful one. I wanted her to live a life as beautiful as she was. 

But what if the only way for her to have that life was if I wasn’t in it…?

“The store looks nice,” I said, glancing around the dimly lit floor. “Mr. Kim rearranged the brass.”

She sighed. “Hey, I…I never really apologized. For what happened.”

“Why would you need to apologize for that?” I asked with a smile. I took her hand in mine, like Yoongi had done to me, and began rubbing circles. “You didn’t do anything wrong. And I made my choice.”

She shook her head and sighed, pushing her dark hair behind her ears with a shrug. “I still feel like…if I’d just taken the blame like I should have you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

I pondered this. “You say that like I’m not happy.”

“Well…you’re not, are you?” 

I chuckled as I recalled all of the memories I’d already accumulated in my new life: writing thank you notes with Yoongi, dancing to Kendrick Lamar at my wedding, sitting on the swings with Jungkook as he revealed something he otherwise never would have. Even though things were confusing and difficult, I wasn’t unhappy. I was sure, at least, of that much.

“I am, actually,” I said with a laugh and a nod of my head. I squeezed Hana’s small hand. “Happy, I mean. I’m actually…kinda happy.”

She scoffed. “And all it took was marrying a stranger.”

“I guess so.”

“God, well tell me all about it! Tell me about him! What’s he like at home? What’s the apartment like? Have you guys…done anything?” she asked, sitting criss-cross on the counter to face me with a grin.

I laughed and shook my head. “No! Nothing like that has happened and, the way things are going, nothing will,” I joked with a sigh. “And he’s…kinda soft.”

“Min Yoongi. Soft,” she repeated with a smirk.

I nodded. “Believe it or not! He’s actually pretty sweet if I’m being totally honest,” I said, then pouted. “But he teases me. And he’s really straightforward. Normally that’s a good thing, right? But like…he scares me with how honest he is sometimes.”

She laughed. “Tell me more.”

“And sometimes he can be kind of cold. Like a corporate heir, you know? And I have to think to myself, ‘Shit, we are in different leagues’. But then the next minute he’s stuffing lettuce wraps in his mouth and his glasses are sliding down his nose and it’s like…ugh, it’s like he’s cute, you know?” I had begun to speak with my hands, waving them around as I thought of more and more things to say. I could have filled a book with my thoughts on Yoongi.

But before I could write even another page, the bell above the door to the store tinkled and the both of us turned towards the noise to see what had caused it. Standing in the doorway, shutting the glass door quietly behind him, was a man maybe in his fifties, wearing a well-tailored vest and slacks. On his right arm I recognized a watch similar to one Yoongi owned. Something and Mercier was the name, if I remembered correctly.

He turned to us with a smile and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Hello. I’m sorry to intrude,” he said. His voice was low, but lilting. Almost like music.

Hana hopped off the counter and I joined her. She offered him a warm smile. “I’m so sorry, sir, but we’re actually closed for lunch right now.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh? I’m so sorry. I must have missed the sign,” he said, laughing. How had he missed it when it was printed boldly right on the door he’d just walked through?

Something about the man put me off and put me on edge. I watched him carefully as he and Hana exchanged more words. Everything about him from his salt-and-pepper hair to the strong set of his jaw seemed sharp, and his eyes flashed around the room in a way that felt calculated. Hana was a pleasant as ever, and yet this man seemed only to be meeting her in politeness, not sincerity. He seemed to be taking in the store, looking for something that I couldn’t know.

“Ah, well, excuse me. I’m so sorry to have been a bother. I’ll come back during work hours,” he said, bowing his head to Hana.

She returned it and smiled up at him. “You can stay if you’d like! If there’s something in particular you’re looking for, then you can try it out while we continue our lunch.”

The man’s eyes went wide and he nodded. “Would that really be okay?”

“Of course. We don’t turn away business here,” she said with a laugh. He returned it, but his eyes never narrowed. He made me so inexplicably uneasy…

“Well, I am looking for something, if you’d care to help,” he said, finally slinking his gaze over to me. We locked eyes and I felt my whole body freeze. 

“Sure. What can I help you find?”

“It’s not really a what, but more of a who I’m afraid,” he said, smiling her way again. 

Hana cocked her head to the side and nodded. “Um…I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but I’ll give it my best shot,” she said, grinning.

The man nodded. “Well, I’m looking for a young woman who used to work here. She recently got married and the articles said she is a former employee,” he said.

I stiffened and took a small step back. Hana and I exchanged a charged look as her eyebrows knit. She and I were surely thinking the same thing. There was no way he was referring to-

“Her name is Y/N,” he said.

The overwhelming urge to run overcame me. I had to tell my body to remain still in order not to sprint out that front door. Who was this man? And why was he looking for me? I took a moment to settle my nerves and think. If I ran, then I seemed guilty. What if he knew about the arrangement? What if he was trying to exploit me for money — money that wasn’t mine to give? If I ran, he may get more ammunition on me, more proof to use against me.

But if I stayed…

If I stayed I might be able to convince him otherwise. I might be able to understand his motives and ask him what he wanted with me. I might be proven wrong about his intentions.

Or I could be proven right. 

And if I was proven right, then I would be in deep, deep trouble.

I remembered what Yoongi said before I left the house. He said he trusted my judgement. I sincerely hoped I could trust it too…

I stepped forward, a large enough step to see the man up close, and cleared my throat. “That’s me, Sir.”

He met my eyes nodded. “I know,” he said. For the first time since he’d come into the store, he smiled and it looked real. But as he did, I realized that I recognized that smile.

It was mine.

[fgodestinyawakenings]

FGO Destiny Awakenings Fuyuki Singularity: Prologue pt.3

Ritsuka: You're sure it's alright to be late, Doctor? Romani: Of course! It's not like things couldn't get any worse! *Explosions in the control room* Romani: ..... The universe loves to prove me wrong, doesn't it? Ritsuka: Don't test the universe to make it worse!

After bidding goodbye to his sister and Mash, Ritsuka entered his room. Taking a brief nap dashed off when he spotted with a deadpan face. The orange pinkish-colored messy ponytail haired man with green orbs stared back at him.

He was sitting on his bed with a laptop sitting on one of his folded legs. One of his white-gloved hands was carrying a half-eaten strawberry cake, the other holding a fork into his mouth. With the tea set, he had made comfortably well on his bed to unwind.

“E-Excuse me…” Ritsuka asked, still struggling to take in the sight he’s looking at. A crew of Chaldea was casually relaxing in his room.

“Yes… Come in…” The orange pinkish-haired man replied.

“Ah… Hah…”

Ritsuka stood there in silence as observing the man turned back to his laptop. The only noise that reverberated in the surrounding was a bright and peppy song with words of ‘Magi*Mari’ recurred.

A minute again, that said man turned back with his orbs widened in panic. He cried while pointed his fork at Ritsuka, “G-G-Guaah! Who are you?!”

The immediate reaction made Ritsuka jumped and landed his rear on the ground with a loud smack. As a groan slipped from his lips, the ponytail haired man proclaimed, “This is my ‘hooky hangout’!”

At much of struggling to sound intimidating, Ritsuka remained impassive and stared at him. As he realized, the ponytail man faced aside with a vexed frown on his lips. “Who gave you the permission to come in?”

“Someone’s that not your supervisor to catch you slacking off the job,” Ritsuka thought as he exhaled a sigh.

He came closer to the bedside and explained in a respectful manner, “I was informed that this was my room…”

“Your room? This place? Oh,” As the ponytail man realized, he lifted his hand that wore a wristwatch in front of Ritsuka. After the holographic identification card showed, he gave himself a face-palm for that outburst. “So, the last kid finally showed up…”

“Well, who are you?” Ritsuka’s eyebrows furrowed as he inquired for the identity of the strange crew.

“Nice to meet you, Fujimaru-kun. Didn’t think I would run into you like this, but,” The ponytail man faced Ritsuka and presented himself. “I’m the head of the medical department, Romani Archaman. For some reason, people just call me Dr. Roman.

“I don’t know why, but it’s easier to pronounce, so go ahead and call me Roman. Fact is, Roman has a nice ring to it, no? It sounds cool and vaguely sweet.”

“Head?!” At the pleasant friendly grin, Ritsuka froze on the spot at how screwed he was. The childish behavior caused him thought otherwise before introducing. But, he bowed. “S-Sorry to bother you when you’re taking a break…!”

“No, not at all. Really, I’m just a run-of-the-mill doctor.” Romani laugh while waving his hands to ensure the young candidate.

At the friendly grin on his face, Ritsuka couldn’t help but noticed the warmth that came out from the doctor. Unconsciously, he uttered in an audible volume, “The fluffy type, huh…”

“Fluffy?” Romani tilted his head.

Realized what he did, a crimson blush of embarrassment colored Ritsuka’s cheek. “S-Sorry, that’s a slip of my tongue there. Just ignore it, Dr. Roman…!”

“It’s fine,” Romani chuckled. He brought a free hand up to stroke his ponytail hair. “If it’s about my hair, I’m normally pretty busy so I just let it grow.”

“I see…” As Ritsuka nodded, he exhaled a relief in his mind. Though that wasn’t what he implied, it’s good the doctor didn’t grab hold of the meaning. Else, he’s digging his own grave in making his first day here worse.

Romani set his plate of cake on the bed and shifted back to Ritsuka. “By the way, isn’t the Rayshift starting soon? I heard all Master candidates were involved with that.”

Ritsuka raised his hand to the back and rubbed his head. “Actually…”

But, a laughter interrupted by the doctor. Romani grabbed a bundle of paper towel headed to the sink to soak it. “A-Anyway, I think get what’s going on. You’re the rookie who just got here then got on the Director’s bad side?”

Recognized that Romani’s green orbs examined at the particular area, Ritsuka realized the stinging pain subsided and put a wry smile, “Yeah…”

Romani approached him and stuck the warm wet towel on his red hand printed cheek. “Here. This should ease the swelling. Apply and leave it for 15 minutes every day, and it should disappear.”

“Thank you, Doctor Roman.” Ritsuka acknowledged and adjusted towel so it covered more of the area.

Romani grinned back and flexed his hand. A chair from opposite the bed pulled over and paused in front of the bed. With the doctor’s gesture, Ritsuka gave another nod and sat.

As the doctor turned to the espresso machine and pick up two cups, he said in a cheery tone, “Then you and I are alike. Just so you know, I got yelled at by her too.”

“Is that so…?”

Romani nodded assuredly and brought a mug to Ritsuka who uttered a ‘thanks’. “Since all the staff has been sent to help out, I had nothing to do. My job is to look after everyone’s health, but the machines are more accurate at reading the vitals of the mages who are in the Coffins.”

“The Director said,” Romani turned to the side and imitated Olga Marie’s posture. “‘When you’re here, Romani, everyone slacks off!’ Then, she threw me out. So I’ve been sulking here.”

The sad pout turned into a lively grin on Romani, spun back to Ritsuka. “But that’s when you showed up. This is what they called a blessing in disguise right. Since we both have nowhere to go. Why don’t we spend some time and deepen our friendship!”

Romani’s eyes closed with a large grin made Ritsuka stared at him for a minute. Seconds later, he laughed and admitted, “Sure, this is my room, so why not?”

“Yeah. So that means I’m visiting a friend’s room! Woo hoo! I’ve made a new friend!” Romani raised his cup and announced, “To a new friendship?”

The infectious smile made Ritsuka beamed and acknowledged, “To our friendship, Dr. Roman.”

Clang

Two cups knocked against each other, Romani pulled his back to down the hot chocolate. As Ritsuka sipped his, a thought came into his mind and asked, “Dr. Roman, may I ask a question?”

“What is it?” Romani returned to Ritsuka’s bed and seated down.

Gripped his mug a little tighter, Ritsuka asked, “They told my sister, and I were qualified to make a contract with a ‘Servant’, so the staff from here invited us. But, what’s Rayshifting?”

Blinked his eyes in shock, Romani queried, “H-Have you come here without knowing what you will do?”

“Well, they were particularly passionate about inviting us here,” Ritsuka chuckled.

“I see,” With a bright, eager grin, Romani began, “I’ll be glad to explain to you! 

“Chaldea is a research facility and observatory that gathers researchers of every stripe, from sorcery to science.

“All for the purpose of continuing the history of mankind long and strong. 

“Our top researchers have developed Chaldea, a global environmental model.”

“Chaldeas?” Ritsuka prodded.

“It was proposed that planet had souls, so this miniature Earth was reproduced to reflect that soul. 

“‘As long as the light of civilization burns in Chaldeas, humanity is guaranteed to last at least for another 100 years.’

“But, the light has begun to die. If the light disappears that means civilization will end. 

“According to our observations, humanity becomes extinct in December 2016,” Romani added.

“What? Humanity will extinct… In 2016?!” Ritsuka repeated with shock laced in his tone.

A grim expression showed on Romani’s face as he went on, “A close investigation of the report has revealed an unusual abnormality. 

“That’s Spatial Singularity F. 

“We determined from 2004 to 2016 CE, there was a rural city in Japan that was an ‘unobservable area’ and did not occur in history.

“Chaldea assumed this causes humanity’s extinction, and propose the Rayshift experiment to the United Nations, which gained approval. 

“Rayshift turns human into Spiritrons and sends them back into the past to intervene certain events.”

“So,” Rubbed his chin thoughtfully, Ritsuka clarified, “It’s like time travel?”

Romani nodded and continued, “By this means, we can transfer to the past and investigate the cause of the future’s disappearance, then destroy it. And that is the idea behind Rayshift, which Chaldea is trying to conduct.”

“So, we were able to join something that incredible?” Ritsuka’s voice astounded by the explanation. But, the mysterious hint from the hooded figure nagged him otherwise.

“Surprised?” Romani smiled.

“Yeah. So, time travel is actually possible now, huh,” Ritsuka nodded to himself.

At another acknowledgment, Romani questioned, “Now you brought up, you mentioned ‘we’… Your sister is here too?”

“Yeah. She’s on the first mission while I’m the one who got the Director’s bad side.” 

Remembered a thought, Ritsuka drew his hand out. “Sorry, I should say previously. I’m Fujimaru Ritsuka, you can call me ‘Ritsuka’ if it’s confusing to you with my sister and me.”

“I look forward to getting to know you then, Ritsuka-kun,” Romani grabbed his hand and shook it. After doing so, he grinned at him. “If you have any more questions of Chaldea, the healthy, diligent and hard-working doctor here will always be happy to answer any of them!”

-0-

30 minutes had occurred since Ritsuka fired endless questions to Romani. It was to kill time while finding out further about their work here. He was glad Romani had been enthusiastic to reveal all he needed to learn.

Romani concluded his explanation, “And so, that’s the structure of Chaldea. 

“An underground workshop built on a snowy top mountain 6,000 meters above sea level–!”

Brrr… Brrr…

Romani’s wristwatch lit up a flickering light. The doctor lifted up to look at the wristwatch flashed a holographic card of the caller ID from Lev and the symbol which read ‘Sound only’.

Lev’s voice said from the holographic, “Romani, we’re going to start the Rayshift soon. Could you come in case there’s an emergency?”

“Did something happen?” 

“A-Team’s in perfect condition, but B-Team on down is less experienced and they are displaying some slight abnormalities.”

With a minor pause, Lev’s voice proceeded, “It probably comes from anxiety. The inside of that Coffin is like a cockpit.”

At Lev’s worried tone, Romani’s eyebrows furrowed. “Hey Lev, I feel bad for them. Why don’t I give them some anesthesia?”

“Yeah, hurry, will you? If you’re in the infirmary, then you can get here in two minutes.”

“Okay!” Romani replied as the holographic vision returned inside his wristwatch.

Ritsuka who had been listening in from the start of the discussion, made a wry smile, “This isn’t the infirmary, is it?”

Romani flinched and raised one of his fingers with a tense smile, “P-Please don’t mention that… It’s gonna take five minutes from here, no matter what. A-And, I won’t get in trouble for being a little late. Besides, it sounds like A-Team isn’t having any issues.”

Determined to turn aside from the awkward topic, Romani mentioned, “Oh, the man I was talking to…”

“Professor Lev, right?” Ritsuka grinned when Romani confirmed his words. “I met him when he was helping my sister to search for me earlier. He said he was an engineer here.”

“An engineer? That was incredibly humble of him,” Romani chuckled. “He’s the mage who created the telescope to observe Chaldeas, the Near-Future Observation Lens, Sheba.

“A telescope used to watch that pseudo-planet, Chaldeas. 

“Sheba not merely observes Chaldeas but also serves as a surveillance system for most of this facility.

“Also, it was the previous director is the one who established the summoning/unsummoning system, which is the foundation of the Rayshift tech.

“To actualize that theory, the Pseudo-Spiritron Calculation—basically a supercomputer—was provided by the Atlas Academy. 

“All these extraordinary talents have been gathered to carry out this mission.”

“A… Amazing…!” Ritsuka uttered in admiration.

Romani grinned at the young candidate reaction and stood. “It’s pointless for an ordinary doctor like me to be there, but if I summoned, I must go, right?”

Shifted his head to Ritsuka, Romani said, “Thanks for chatting with me, Ritsuka-kun!”

“No, thank you too,” Ritsuka said. He stood up on instinct to send Romani off.

As Romani turned his head, he suggested, “When you get settled in, come by the infirmary. Next time, I’ll treat you to some yummy cake–!”

Boom! Click! Clack!

The explosion sound reverberated and lights blacked out.

“What is this?” Romani wary at the abrupt darkness in the room.

Ritsuka examined around and speculated, “A power outage?”

At his words, Romani turned over as he realized, “No, Chaldea shouldn’t have any power outages.”

In the next second, an electronic voice reported, “Emergency. Emergency. A fire has broken out in the Central Power Station and Central Command Room. Central Area’s containment wall will activate in 90 seconds. All staff must evacuate from Gate 2 at once.”

Both Romani and Ritsuka gasped in shock at the notice. 

The latter repeated with astonishment in his tone, “Fires?”

“Command Room…?” Ritsuka muttered and the mug in his hand slipped. The sound of its content spilled out wasn’t his primary attention. He realized as he recalled the two individuals who had gone there for their mission…

“In the turning events, a terrible catastrophe befalls on you and the world,” The hooded figure’s mysterious voice resounded in his thoughts.

“Ritsuko! Mash!” The two names shouted in Ritsuka’s heart. He rushed out without hesitation.

Romani noticed and called out to him, “Hey!”

The doctor too hurried and followed Ritsuka to the same destination they were heading to.

-0-

Footsteps dashed across as quick as their legs could move along the passageway. The evacuating Chaldea staff running out from the two stated location didn’t hinder them. Upon arriving at the gate, they dashed at the point it opened.

When arrived, they were met by the appearance of a war-zone. Rubbles of damaged roofs and walls scattered across the flooded room. As rubbles fallen to the ground, there were still fires blazing in different parts of the room.

“Horrible…” Ritsuka’s voice mustered to mutter at the sight he witnessed.

Swallowed a gulp, Romani tilted his head high and commented, “Only Chaldeas is safe.”

Followed his gaze, Ritsuka tilted his head high to examine the said black-colored globe remained untouched despite the casualties. 

Romani turned his head and surveyed the area, “This was where the explosion originated. 

“This was no accident, it was sabotage.”

“What?” Ritsuka focused his attention to the doctor.

The electronic voice declared, “Generator operation stopped. 

“Power level critical.” 

Both let out a small gasp and gaze at the black globe. Romani turned to the Command Room and exclaimed, “This is bad!”

Turned behind, Ritsuka gazed at the shattered glass broken by the explosion. 

Despite the visible holographic screen running, the announcement continued, “Switch to the backup generator, error. 

“Please make the switch manually.”

Romani turned back to Ritsuka and declared, “I’m heading down to the underground power station.”

As the doctor rushed off, Ritsuka turned and yelled, “Isn’t it dangerous?!”

“We can’t let Chaldea’s light go out,” Romani replied. He shifted to Ritsuka as the gate opened and advised. “Hurry and go back the way we came.”

“Dr. Roman!” Ritsuka yelled in trying to stop him. But, Romani had rushed off to fulfill the task required to do. With the gate sealed, Ritsuka now left alone in the burning room.

“Containment wall will close in 40 seconds. 

“Those remain in Central Area, evacuate immediately–!”

Ignored the announcement, Ritsuka had decided and sprinted forward. Hopped down and climbed up of each large debris, the sound of water splashing from his footsteps echoed the room. Ritsuka scanned from left to right and yelled, “Ritsuko! Mash!”

Rushed past each of the broken glass pods, Ritsuka stopped and spotted a figure inside it. He examined closer and recognized that it was one of the Master candidates like him and his sister. But by the shattered glass and their body position, they were unconscious from the explosion.

Feared for the worst result, Ritsuka dashed again once more but at a swifter pace. His head examined around as he yelled repeatedly, “Ritsuko! Mash! Where are you?!”

Unknown to him, another robotic voice declared, “System switching to the final phase of Rayshift. 

“Coordinates, AD 2004, January, 30th, Fuyuki, Japan.”

Caught his breath, Ritsuka scanned again and cried out, “Ritsuko! Mash!”

“Fou! Fou!” A weak animal squeak echoed the room.

Followed by a recognizable and panicked female voice responding to him, “R… Ritsuka…? R-R-Ritsuka is that you?!”

As Ritsuka turned and rushed to the source of the voice, the electronic voice proceeded, “Laplace’s shifting protection established. 

“Singularity’s additional factor slot secured. 

“Unsummon Program set. 

“Please start final adjustments.”

Stood above the massive debris, Ritsuka catching his breath met the two origins of the voices. Before him, Ritsuko wearing an orange-white fitting outfit trying to remove the large debris. Fou squeaking again and repeatedly to Mash who was trapped underneath a large debris.

“Ritsuko! Mash!” Ritsuka’s voice yelled at them, getting their attention.

“R… Ritsuka-senpai…?” Mash muttered, mustering her energy to move.

Ritsuko stopped her action and caught the sight of her brother moving to them. “R-R-Ritsuka!”

Upon reaching, Ritsuka’s orbs widened at the somewhat swollen eyes from Ritsuko. Her hands and body shivering as though she was to break down soon. He grasped hold of her shoulders lightly and asked, “Are you all right, Ritsuko?! What happened?”

Ritsuko mustered a shaky nod. “I-I’m fine, Ritsuka… We were about to start our mission. A-And, there was an explosion… B-But, Mash. S-She… She took me out of that pod when it happened. A-And, s-she shoved me when that rubble above her…”

Accompanied her gaze, Ritsuka jaw fell and eyes enlarged. The pool of blood beneath her spread, dyeing her clothes in blood red. Also, her torso covered in dust and bruises with her broken glasses.

“Hang in there, I’ll get you out now!” Ritsuka decided with a calm tone, swallowing a gulp.

“No, that’s…” Mash weakly opposed, watching Ritsuka stood up and moved to the debris.

Ritsuko turned back to the debris and settled, “I-I’ll help you too, Ritsuka!”

“Okay, you pick up the other side, Ritsuko!” Ritsuka ordered and knelt down.

As he reached the rubble, a burning pain scorched both his palms. Ritsuka pulled back and grimaced. It earned a worried expression from Ritsuko, “R-Ritsuka!”

“I’m fine,” Ritsuka assured, stretching his sleeves down to protect both his palms.

As Ritsuka grabbed hold of the debris, the siblings made their attempt to remove away from Mash. The attempt in doing so made Mash protested further, “It’s all… right. You can’t… save… me. Don’t mind me, please… Run.”

“And you’re coming with us, Mash!” Ritsuka groaned, focusing all his power on his arms.

Ritsuko nodded and agreed, mustering from her trembling hands to pick up the debris. “That’s right. We will not leave you here like this…! We’ll pull you out of here… And find help….!”

Mash weakly shook her head and insisted once more. “Please… Just run! There’s no–!”

“Forget it! We’re not leaving you here and that’s final!” Ritsuka and Ritsuko objected with a resolved expression. The pair drew a deep breath, and attempt to lift the large rubble again.

While doing so, a robotic voice abruptly announced, “Warning all observation staff. 

“Chaldeas’ state has changed.”

Turned to the globe, Mash gasped as her purple orbs widened. The Chaldea globe changed from earlier charcoal black, to an intense burning red globe. The announcement went on, “Now rewriting Sheba’s near-future prediction data.

“Unable to detect the existence of mankind 100 years in the near-future on Earth. 

“Unable to confirm human survivors. 

“Unable to guarantee mankind’s future.”

“Chaldeas… Has turned bright red,” Mash muttered. She shook her head then said, “No, never mind, that–!”

“Central Area, sealed.”

THUMP! CLICK!

As it announced, the echo of a large shutter landed on the ground accompanied by a click. The announcement followed up thereafter. “180 seconds till internal containment procedure.”

“It closed… The gate, they closed it,” Ritsuko muttered.

“They shut off, the area. Now, we can’t, get out,” Mash bowed her head and murmured, “Senpais… I’m sorry. Because of me…”

“Mash-chan…” Ritsuko turned her head to Mash.

Ritsuka shook his head and came back, “No, it’s…”

“In the subsequent hours, you and your sister will enter into a contract to turn into a Master. After which, you will come back here at the end of the anomality.

“In that adventure, sorrow with grief and tragic ends will inevitably be there. Yet, as long as you don’t lose sight of the path you’ve determined. The path you’ve walked will be the most extraordinary adventure of your life,” The hooded figure’s mysterious voice rang again his mind.

With a wry grin to himself, Ritsuka assured to them both. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Ritsuka…?” Ritsuko stared at her brother.

Sat on the ground before his sister and Mash, Ritsuka asked, “Are you two okay?”

“Yeah…” At her brother’s gentle grin, Ritsuko nodded and returned the same too.

Mash gave a weak nod and smile, “Yes… Thank you…”

The robotic voice announced, “Coffin vitals: Masters. 

“Baseline not reached.”

“Senpais…” Mash muttered with her head bowed down.

“Hm?” Ritsuka moved his orbs to the bespectacled girl.

Ritsuko tilted her head. “What is it, Mash-chan?”

“Mash-chan, huh…? Didn’t expect you move this fast, Ritsuko” Ritsuka turned back to her sister with a now mischievous smirk on his lips.

Rolled her eyes at the hidden meaning, Ritsuko snorted unladylike. “Oh please, we’re simply friends. And besides, she was the one who saved me earlier.”

“I see,” Shifting back to the bespectacled girl, Ritsuka grinned, “Thank you, Mash. I owe you again.”

Mash gave a weak shook of her head and replied, “No. Because Ritsuko-senpai… Is my friend after all… But…”

“We’ll figure this out,” Ritsuka reassured again. Though their present state caused him doubt their chances of getting out alive.

Strangely, the hooded figure showed him the courage to consider otherwise as he thought. “This looks like the perfect time to test the trustworthiness of his words and the fate here.”

Another robotic voice indicated, “Rayshift requirement not met. 

“Searching for qualifying Master…”

“Um… Sen… Pais…?”

At Mash’s call again, the siblings saw both her hands reaching out to them. She showed a shaky beam and requested, “I’m sorry. Would both of you mind…. Holding my hand?”

“Found,” The electronic voice announced.

“Sure,” Ritsuka responded, dusting his hands onto his shirt before grasping lightly of his right hand to her left.

“It’s all right, Mash-chan. We’ll hold them.” Ritsuko grasped both her hands out to hold Mash’s right hand gently.

Unknown to the three, the electronic voice announced, “Candidate No. 48, Fujimaru Ritsuko reset as Master. 

“Candidate No. 48, Fujimaru Ritsuka reset as Master.”

“Kyuu!” Fou squeaked, noticing that the place rumbled.

Rubbles from roof started to fall to the ground. The resounding impact it made didn’t cower them or the electronic voice as it went on, “Unsummon Program, start. Spiritron Conversion, Start. Rayshift starting in 3. 2. 1.

“All procedures clear. 

“First Order, commencing operation.” 

The last words the Fujimaru siblings before their vision went black accompanied by a vortex of blue light.

End of Fuyuki Prologue

[shieldsmusic92]

So it started in my GCSE years so year 10/11. I originally wanted to be an electrician for some reason! The only reason why I would think I wanted to be an electrician is because I was told that Trade jobs are the best to have as you get paid well and it's a safe industry. By this, I don't mean I was pushed towards it as my family/people around me never pushed anything on me. I guess I didn't know what I wanted to do and just chose that, I remember my Grandad saying to me to be a decorater which I honestly could not think of anything worse.

So anyway I chose to do Electronics as one of my GCSE's which looking back, well no even then I knew it was a waste of time. The teacher did not seem to care and the only thing I remember is making a pencil holder which had little L.E.D Lights, I remember drawing up a design, I wanted it to light up and spin, my teacher said that it was possible to do and got my hopes up to then tell me half way down the line that it wasn't possible. I just think he couldn't be bothered to show me how to do it...

I don't remember the exact moment I realised I didn't want to be an electrician anymore but during my time doing my GCSE's I started listening to a lot more music and thus began my deep interest in music. I started playing guitar, going to gigs and playing in bands.

The end of GCSE's came and I went into sixth form where I studied Music Technology, I didn't know what I wanted to do career wise in Music but I just knew I wanted to be in the music industry. Learnt so much in the 2 years of studying with a great teacher. I learnt about all the technical side so how to record music but also I learnt the theory side of music like composing etc. I really wish I had started music from a young age so I could have learnt more theory based stuff about music.

After Sixth Form I went to University, Leeds Metropolitan University, where I studied Music Technology. I finally knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to be a sound engineer for Theatre, I am a major musical theatre fan, me and my family love going to see shows on the West End in London so this career would be perfect for me. I have to say University wasn't for me, I believe it is a hell of a lot of money and I unfortunately know a lot of people who are in the music industry who haven't studied at University. Although I developed some skills at University and learnt very few new things, I really think it was a waste of time. I did not make the most of University to be honest, I didn't have the typical student life but at least I got a degree out of it.

My first job was at Debenhams, I worked there as a part time sales advisor for 4-5 years but during University I left and started at New Look (fashion retailer) still part time but just wanted something new. I graduated from University and was set free into the real world! I worked more hours at New Look while I decided what to do with my life. I was in bands and was gigging and my dream was and still is to be in a big touring band full time so I decided against the sound engineer for theatre career as it would take up my evenings when I could be gigging but that didn't matter anyway because shit was about to go down.

I met my ex girlfriend through JoinMyBand in my final year of University, I joined her band at the time. We started dating and I stupidly moved in with her after a few months, she didn't work due to health issues and she had a child who I loved, all fine until she got worse and I quit my job to look after her full time!

Let's skip ahead 2 years because that story is for a different time maybe, maybe not.

We broke up on Christmas day 2016. I was jobless but bloody happy to be out of there.

February 2017 I started my job at New Look again except this time in a different store, luckily my old deputy heard what happened and offered me a job as she was Store Manager in the store which I worked at for about 2 years, I was so grateful to her and still am! It was here where I basically realised shit I need to get my life together now, I worked so hard and decided I would try and make it in retail, I wanted to get to the top! I progressed to Supervisor, step 1 complete. I also would like to mention that I met my beautiful wife to be here so that's another step of getting my life together complete.

After 2 years, I moved stores as working in different stores helps to progress in retail. This store was the White Rose store which I worked in after Debenhams so it was nice to be back there again. I was eager to progress but I didn't seem to be getting anywhere, October came and a position came up in York for Deputy Store Manager just Maternity Cover so I took it which was the best decision ever, as stressful as it was, I learnt so much from it.

The maternity cover contract came to an end in February and by this time COVID19 had started unfortunately cutting my time short at my next maternity cover deputy Store manager position at Doncaster, I worked there for 3 weeks then we went in to the dreaded first lockdown!

Lockdown ended and so did my maternity cover at Doncaster so I was unfortunately forced to go back to White Rose as a Supervisor but I owned it, my demeanor had changed and I had a name for myself.

Another lockdown was on the way during the Christmas period of 2020 I progressed to Sales Manager (promotion from supervisor) but only because our Sales Manager was off sick. It was all good, I was on good money and doing well for myself. Lockdown 2 came and I had a feeling that I would be stepped back down to Supervisor during this time, my January wage came through and my payslip said I was getting Supervisor wage again! Knew it...

Therefore I knew this was my time to start looking for a new job. I had done all I can at New Look I did so much for them, worked in many different stores, worked so hard but there just wasn't a higher position for me anywhere and I want to successful and just think New Look would not have been able to give me a position for a very long time especially in the current climate.

I started looking for jobs on Indeed. I applied to at least 100 jobs! I still wanted a Customer Service job as I'm good at it. I came across a job that was for a company called JHS which is a music instrument/accessory distributer, I thought oh this would be cool as its customer service based and its on music so everything I love! So obviously I applied.

We come to an end of my blog, this is what this blog is about, I went to an interview for this job, it was my first interview in a very long time....

I got the job! I officially start tomorrow, I have left retail and I am finally working in the music Industry, no it isn't the sound engineer career but to me it's better. It's Monday-Friday 9-5 all to do with music. My life now literally revolves around music and I wouldnt have it any other way!

Thanks for reading, wish me luck!