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sunnyie-eve · 2 years ago

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22 | You Sound Ridiculous

Series: Valentine Addams | Wednesday

Paring: (Xavier Thorpe x OFC Addams! Tyler Galpin x OFC Addams!)

Word Count: 1859

Warnings: death, false accusations, kissing, betrayed by someone trusted

21. More Than.. | 23. It’s Him

"Look at this. Lucas gave me information his father was looking up before he was murdered. He was investigating Laurel Gates. He started after Outreach Day. According to British police Laurel was presumed drowned, but no body was recovered. And the Gates mansion was purchased a year ago by a 90 year old candy heiress. She mysteriously died and gave all her belongings to her caregiver, Teresa L. Glad." Wednesday walks into my room as I was on the computer.

"Anagram for Laurel Gates. So she secretly bought her old house and comes back to Jericho as someone else. Why? To get revenge on all the people she blames for her family's misfortune?" I turn to face her.

"The Mayor, the coroner, our parents. Most of all Nevermore. The Hyde is doing all of her bidding since she controls it." Wednesday smiles, "Now we just get Dr. Kinbott to confess she's Laurel Gates."

"We? What do even you have to say it's her?"

"The flowers in her room at the mansion are the exact same flowers she took when visiting Eugene in the hospital. I mean it's so easy for a psychiatrist to slip in and out of a hospital undetected. Why would someone so overqualified want to be here? To crawl through outcasts minds till she found one to manipulate for her revenge." Wednesday goes on a rant explaining her reason.

"Wednesday, that's not evidence. Nothing really pinpoints Dr. Kinbott." I stand up from my desk.

"You want to know why you've changed? It's all because of her. She got into your mind." Wednesday steps closer to me making me roll my eyes.

"You sound ridiculous, Wednesday."

"Explain to me why you randomly changed then when you didn't want to?" She raises her voice.

I just stare at her like she lost her mind, "I didn't not want to, I was just confused to new things." I try explaining to her.

"No, you changed when you started your session with her."

"Have you ever thought that maybe I just wanted to change deep down and I did because I felt comfortable for once to open up to show that I keep locked away deep down? Enid and especially Tyler know parts of me that not you, Pugsley or even our parents don't know about." I step closer to her.

"You really are a disappointment. Kinbott got to your head and made you this way and made you not see the truth about her or Xavier."

I just stare at her shaking my head, "You're jumping to conclusions with no sold proof to back up you stupid theories. Hopefully you feel stupid when you turn out to be wrong with you accusations." I shoulder check her leaving my room.

I wish I knew who the real Laurel Gates was and who the monster was just to make Wednesday feel stupid for being so wrong. I mean yes, Wednesday had a theory compared to me but flowers aren't enough evidence. Then for Xavier having secret sessions with Kinbott wasn't odd, especially if you didn't want anyone to know you were seeing someone to talk about your life and problems.

"Thought you were ignoring me?" Xavier's video brings me out of my thoughts and I notice I walked all the way to his shed.

"Wednesday has officially lost it. She believes Kinbott is Laurel Gates who unlocked you, the Hyde, during your secret sessions." I take a seat on a stool.

"And her evidence?" He turns to face me crossing his arms.

"Kinbott brought Eugene the same roses that we found at the Gates mansion in Laurel's childhood bedroom. You're the monster because you paint it without ever seeing it and you show up after things or always around before something happens. But if she uses that logic then Tyler is in the same boat with you there in being around. I just can't wait till she's proven wrong. And she thinks I'm different now because Kinbott has got to my head as well making me not see the truth about her or you."

"That's just theories with no sold proof to back her up." Xavier walks over to me.

"I know, and I told her that. I know you aren't the monster and there's no way Kinbott is Laurel. I have no clue who the real people are and I wish I knew to make Wednesday feel stupid. I feel like I would already know or seen some hint because I've had some physical contact with everyone I talk to. I just want this to be over with. I don't want you, my friend, or the first therapist I like and trust to be falsely accused of murdering people."

"You're right, I may have not believed in you since day one but you've believed in me since day one. You're way more of a true friend than me." He sits on the stool next to me.

"If what Rowan told Wednesday is going to happen... if she never came and it was just me would all this still go down like it is? It would have to be because the murders started before she showed up. So if I never came as well..." I look at him.

"I wish I had answered for you." He looks at me as well.

"Oh, I hate you Nevermore." We both laugh.

"So Enid slipped... How was your second date with Tyler?" Xavier changes the topic messing with his hands.

"Good, but Wednesday was there. He decorated the crypt for a picnic and a movie. He asked do I like scary movies and I got excited but I got slightly tortured watching Legally Blonde. So that literally was a horror movie to me but I hated to admit I secretly liked it deep down."

"Enid got you used to the color pink?" He chuckles so I nod my head, "As much as I hate Tyler... I happy he makes you happy. You're my friend after all and I care about your happiness. And I mean it. I promise from now on I will stop with my sassy marks about him. I still hate him but I'll keep it locked away around you."

I lean over giving him a hug, "That means a lot to me. Really, Xavier."

"You're actually hugging me?"

"This is your one chance to hug me back because I don't give out free hugs." I tell him so he hugs me back.

I headed into town to check on Kinbott because I'm sure by now Wednesday has already been by accusing her being Laurel Gates.

"Dr. Kinbott." I knock on her door not getting an answer. "I'm not here to accuse you like Wednesday did. I'm here to check up on you." I wait for a response and still get nothing so I go in to see her laying in a pool of blood. "Dr. Kinbott." I rush over to see her struggling to breath.

"Val." She coughs up blood.

"No, no, no. Don't talk, just keep breathing." I tell putting a hand over her wound to stop the bleeding as I pull out my phone with my other hand calling for help.

"He..." She tries speaking.

"He? He who? No, don't try talking. Just hold on then you can tell Sheriff Galpin who did this to you." I say seeing she wasn't going to make of help doesn't get her faster. "This is a small town! Why are they taking so long!"

"You...him." She closes her eyes as help rushes in though the door.

They take her to the hospital and Sheriff Galpin takes me to a room to question me, "You didn't have a session today so why did you go see Dr. Kinbott?" He asks me as I sit looking at my recently washed hands.

"Wednesday went to go see her accusing her of being Laurel Gates. She thought she was the master of the Hyde. Her stupid evidence was roses we found at the Gates mansion because she brought Eugene the same roses. I didn't believe in her little theory... I wanted to come check on and when she wouldn't answer I opened the door to find her in a pool of her own blood."

"Did she manage to say anything to you while being awake?" He asks so I look up at him,

"I'm shocked she tried saying my name. Said him then me and him. I told her not to talk because it would make things harder for her. I told her to save it to talk to you who she saw but... I know she isn't going to make it. There was too much blood. I regret not saying say his name."

Sheriff Galpin sighs taking a seat next to me taking my shaking hands into his so I look at him, "She won't be able to say his name in that much shock. She kept it short and what ever words she could form. Don't feel guilty for telling her n't to talk."

"Why are you comforting me, Sheriff?

"Because I can tell this is effecting you. Once I found out your full name, I did my research on you since my son took a liking to you. Knowing what you did to people in your past and trying to kill people yourself... I can see you aren't the same girl anymore because your hands wouldn't be shaking nor would you feel guilt." He tells me.

"Why still comfort me, someone you hated around your son, but not comfort your own son about topics? I get it's hard to talk about but he's your son. If you don't open up, you'll lose him in a different way." I take my hands back from him.

"For starters; I want to make sure you're fine because you mean a lot to my son. You make him happy and that's all I want for him. And I know I need to open up with him but it's hard for me. The things after her pregnancy with Tyler that lead up to her passing... I don't want him to know." Sheriff Galpin looks away from me.

"If all you want for him to be happy then talk to him. He really needs that from you. Not just being nice to me. He needs you more than me. You're his father. I'm just a outcast girl he likes."

"He takes after his mother a lot but in that case he takes after me. I'm going to check in on Dr. Kinbott. Weems and Wednesday are out in the hall." He gets up leaving the room and I follow.

"Are you okay, Valentine?" Weems gets up walking over to me while Wednesday stares at me.

"I'll be fine." I force a smile.

#wednsday addams #wednesday #xavier thrope fanfic #xavier thrope #tyler galpin #tyler galpin fanfic #xavier thrope imagine #tyler galpin imagine #enid sinclair #bianca barclay #ajax petropolus #yoko tanaka #eugene ottinger #divina wednesday #kent wednesday #tyler galpin x oc addams #tyler galpin x oc

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caitlynlynch · 3 years ago

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Looking to earn some extra money? Enjoy audiobooks? Picky? I might have an opportunity for you!

So it seems like I'm finally going to have to accept that there are not enough hours in the day to do everything I want to do, which means it's time for me to outsource some work. THE JOB: Audiobook editing and proofreading, 4-10 hours per week. Full training provided. I book work 3 months out and can guarantee work until at least the end of January, but it is dependent on ME continuing to get booked! THE PAY: $40 (US) per FINISHED hour. I estimate it will take about 2 hours to make 1 finished hour when you first start, maybe getting down to 1.5: 1 as you get quicker. I will pay weekly via Paypal. WHAT YOU NEED: Familiarity with the British English accent and how words are pronounced differently to American English. A reliable computer, an internet connection that can handle download or upload of large files which you have access to on a daily basis. The free software Audacity and a Google account so you can access Google Drive. Good headphones, earbuds, or a speaker and a quiet place to work. The ability to read the text at the same time as you are listening... this is how my screen looks when I am working:

The top half of the screen is the 'waveform' in Audacity and the bottom half is a Google Doc. I read and listen at the same time. If I find an error, I mark the place in Audacity and then flip to another Google Doc and make a note of what has to be done to fix it. I'll provide a couple hours of training via Zoom until you're comfortable with what I need from you, paid at half rate, and any time you have a question after that you can just shoot it through and I'll get back to you as quick as I can. I record mostly romance, though I'm currently working on an epic fantasy. If you don't like/can't handle listening to sexy scenes, this might not be the job for you. If you have triggers you need to avoid, just tell me: I can ensure I handle any chapters which might be a problem (I recently narrated a book with miscarriage, for example, and found myself in tears more than once!). Think this might be the job for you? Shoot me a DM here on Tumblr and we'll have a chat. EDIT: I think I found someone. Thank you to everyone who signal boosted. For those folks who reached out and actually already have mad audio skills and want to get into the audiobook editing space - you're actually overqualified for what I'm looking for, and I'd be underpaying you, but I do have a resource to share. Please check out this FB group. https://www.facebook.com/groups/140624362803564 This is where a LOT of audiobook editors and narrators hang out. Proper job oppos do come up in here and there is a lot of info and skill sharing too.

#job opportunity #audiobook editing #time to outsource

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golden-ariess · 3 years ago

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Would you rather be in debt to Tommy Shelby? Or be stalked by IT Steve?

You can't ask me things like this and expect me to be able to chose 😩. I would choose IT!Steve

Just imagine with me for a moment...

Email after email poured in. The moment you sifted through three of them sending replies back, ten more came and took their place.

Being understaffed piled even more work on your ever-growing checklist. The stress of it all began to chip away with you. All of it being more than normal. You stayed late, came in early, barely able to spare a moment for yourself.

It wasn't long until you decided to take a peak at Indeed to see if they had and current listing that fit your area of expertise.

By the time you caught up with work, Noon had been long gone and the ache in your stomach led you downstairs to find something to eat, even if it was just a short break.

________________

The week hadn't been kind to you, to say the least. Steve watched you trudge through the hallways. You looked exhausted. A large cup of coffee accompanied you throughout the day.

That wasn't you. His girl was stressed, and he didn't know how to help you beyond deleting emails you didn't need before you got to them.

Steve, for the first time in a while, felt helpless.

A soft ping alert from his desktop let him know you'd finally locked your computer and were inactive for the past five minutes.

He couldn't help but sigh in relief you'd taken a break.

Steve didn't waste time logging into your account. The least he could do was make sure emails had been sent and your inbox wasn't in disarray while you were gone.

Replying here, deleting there. He managed to knock a majority of your list out. Closing unnecessary tabs you had left open would only slow you down. He wanted you to get home as soon as you could tonight.

He hated the fact he hadn't been able to watch any of your favorite series with you lately.

Upon clicking away tab after tab. The last one he was to close out cause his blood pressure to rise. You were thinking of leaving.

This was the last thing he needed to see today. Unbeknownst to you, Steve had also found himself coming in and staying late, just as you did. You needed someone to lean on. Even if you didn't know, it was him gently holding you up in the ways he could.

He clicked his way through the jobs you had saved. Each one he saw you were overqualified for. This was desperation he was witnessing.

Steve knew if you left, he would simply follow. But Steve knew he couldn't handle being without you. There had to be something that could be done to make your department more barrable.

Clearing your browsing history as soon as he could, he finished up right before you logged back on.

Your manager was an ass who regularly wanted reports on messages that were sent between everyone in your department, and non work related things that were being looked up on company time using the companies equipment.

The last month while the department scrabbled. Barley meeting deadlines. He watched your boss sat back in his office playing online poker of all things on company time using the companies equipment.

The answer was obvious at that point. He has to go. Honestly, fresh new leadership was needed. Looking at the jobs you saved, Steve was sure your manager would land on his feet, eventually. The job market was open.

With a log he'd kept of all his search history. He had solid proof to send to the higher ups that suggested maybe your boss wasn't as invested as the company's growth as everyone else.

This is why I would choose Steve. He would take everyone down for me. Including capitalism. A man after my heart.

#s replies #I had to really give a good example as of to way #the lovely queenoftheworldisdead #💛💛💛#IT!Stalker Steve #dark!steve rogers x you

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bestworstcase · 4 years ago

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farran rereads lost lagoon: chapters 3-4

- a shot-put ball, according to my cursory research, weighs in the neighborhood of 6-16 pounds. leila howland expects me to believe that princess “hoisted an adult woman 70 ft into the air on the daily with nothing but a pulley and raw upper body strength” rapunzel has a hard time picking up a shot.

anyways

- rapunzel thinks about how she used to talk to herself in her tower when she was isolated (and lonely) but stopped once she came to corona, and this girl looked like she was talking to herself, and it gave rapunzel this weird sense of familiarity! now what in the world could that mean? its so subtle i can’t quite put my finger on it.

again, romance novel.

less sardonically - i will say that tts cass has never struck me as an especially lonely person. yes, rapunzel is quite possibly her first ever close friend, but cass also appears to be on pleasant terms with her coworkers and has at least one or two friendships or mentor-type relationships among the guards (stan and pete). animals in tts are anthropomorphized enough to qualify as humans, and cassandra is unequivocally friends with owl and fidella. she is friendly if not friends with at least one coronan citizen (monty). she’s utterly unfazed by crowley’s crabbiness. she’s able to get along with the pub thugs. in vardaros she befriends vex with ease and makes herself right at home among the citizenry at large. there is zero friction between her and lance - at most she rolls her eyes when he’s being ridiculous. and out of the main cast, cassandra is the one who seems closest to varian in s1 - like, she has actual bonding moments with him.

THE POINT BEING, cassandra may not have a lot of close friends, but she is nevertheless personable and demonstrates the ability to adapt herself to suit a variety of social environments. maybe i’m projecting here - i have very few close offline friends because my preference for in-person socialization is for it to be very casual - but taken together this doesn’t scream ‘lonely person’ to me. it instead says ‘person who finds social fulfillment in a wide net of friendly acquaintanceships’ and possibly also ‘person who finds close, emotionally intimate relationships worthwhile but very demanding to maintain, and so seldom or never seeks them out.’

this, absolutely, a very subjective reading of her character - it is just as plausible for cass to be someone who is socially competent but feels inwardly unfulfilled until rapunzel comes along. but even in that reading, this implication that cassandra is as deeply lonely, as thoroughly isolated in corona as rapunzel was in her tower is baldly absurd.

- i think i will have more thoughts about how arianna is characterized and the relationship she and rapunzel have with each other later in the story. for now it feels rather mechanical, and like arianna exists in the story to facilitate cassunzel happening.

- cassandra comes across to me like she has an anxiety disorder written by someone who doesn’t quite know how to convey how that feels? she catastrophizes: what if rapunzel thinks cass attacked her? will she get in trouble? but then she stops to make snide comments about rapunzel’s security detail ‘[falling] down on the job’ and concludes with an impressive amount of certainty that rapunzel isn’t going to make a big deal of it, after all. that… isn’t how anxiety works?

then, immediately, she finds a note from her father scolding her for slacking off—making it clear that she is indeed in trouble, like she feared—and her response is to scoff and throw it away. zero concern about being in trouble. zero worry about the consequences she might face for refusing the pointed “offer” of being rapunzel’s lady-in-waiting. like… this isn’t anxiety. i’m positive it’s meant to convey anxiety, but it comes across as cassandra just being… melodramatic and rude and grumpy. like a teenager. it’s unpleasant. and it bears very little resemblance to tts cass, who expresses a clear and consistent anxiety regarding the security of her job and the looming threat of a convent.

- secondly: “Friedborg reported that you missed your afternoon duties AGAIN. Please be advised that this is unacceptable. The queen is looking for a lady-in-waiting to serve Princess Rapunzel. It would be a great opportunity for you, and you must show the queen how prepared you are to train her in the ways of the court.” i am 100% convinced that howland thought cass was rapunzel’s age or younger. if friedborg is effectively cassandra’s direct supervisor, and she is reporting absences to cassandra’s father instead of addressing this with cassandra directly, the only explanation that makes sense is that cassandra is not of legal age.

- “Ladies don’t wield weapons, lead military strategy meetings, or race on horseback. Ladies do needlework, flower arranging, and hairstyling.”

sighs.

i am not going to argue that corona, in any incarnation, isn’t culturally sexist. it is. there are no women in the guard, no women in trades, no female business owners in the vein of monty or xavier or feldspar. besides rapunzel and arianna - who as the monarch’s spouse has very little in the way of actual political power - there are no women in the upper echelons of the government. besides cassandra, the only gnc women around are criminals. cass is denied even a chance to join the guard for no evident reason, even though her father allows eugene - a man he openly despises - to take the tests and then begrudgingly hires him when he passes. no one sees an issue with this, even though cassandra is demonstrably overqualified.

however.

howland makes this cultural sexism explicit text, and she does so in such a way that it implies something pretty horrifying about the already pretty horrifying corona-saporia unification backstory.

i am talking, of course, about general shampanier. you know, the female saporian general whom herz der sonne married when the two kingdoms were unified. the female saporian general who personally dueled der sonne for hours, according to under raps. the female saporian general who, forget military strategy meetings, led an entire goddamn army. i will accept the possibility that shampanier did not ride horses, because rapunzel’s return suggests that saporians have some sort of cultural objection to that. but this book predates rapunzel’s return by a large margin, and it isn’t canon anyway, so odds are the general shampanier of this story rode a warhorse at some point or another in her illustrious career of being the general of an army!!!

this woman - general shampanier - became the queen, the wife of arguably corona’s most historically important king, at a defining moment in coronan political and cultural history. tts and lost lagoon would both have us believe that this was a romantic, peaceful union between two people and two nations, but a few hundred years later - this. ladies don’t fight. ladies don’t belong in the war tent. ladies don’t ride horses. cass takes these things for granted as facts of life. but general shampanier did all of those things, and she did them extremely well, and she became corona’s queen.

WHAT HAPPENED?! WHAT HAPPENED TO SHAMPANIER’S LEGACY?

how did corona go from a warrior-queen to this, in just a few hundred years? the most plausible answer is that the background radiation of sexism and, perhaps, anti-saporian bias was powerful enough to unravel any cultural impact she may have otherwise had, deep enough to render her an outlier, an aberration, an exception to the rule that women do not act like that.

even arguing here that ‘lady’ specifically means ‘noblewoman’ doesn’t add up - because, again, general shampanier became THE QUEEN. you don’t get more noblewoman than that!

it feels unfair to judge this book with details added in season 3—such as the fact that shampanier is evidently not buried with herz der sonne—but this total lack of a cultural impact from general shampanier, queen of corona, feels very telling even without taking those tidbits of extra-textual information into consideration.

and good god, saporia hasn’t even properly entered the narrative yet! this is only the tip of the proverbial iceberg!

*deep breath*

moving. on.

- continuing the theme of cass being a child larping as a guard recruit: she has a closetful of weapons which she maintains to the exacting standards of the handbook, but skips out on her job to “train” in secret because evidently she’ll do ANYTHING to get on the guard except, you know, demonstrate a modicum of responsibility with the job she has now.

- moreover while i think cartography is a neat hobby for cassandra to have, it… doesn’t make a lot of sense if it’s part of some nebulous plan to ~prove herself worthy~ of being on the guard. like, cartography straight up isn’t a relevant skill, and while knowing the countryside could certainly be helpful for guard work in the event a criminal goes to ground in the wilderness, it’s like… it’s like if i applied for my current job, which is in software/tech support, by focusing an intensive amount of energy on teaching myself spanish. fluency in spanish is a useful skill and one that i could turn into an asset within the bounds of my current job, and it might be the deciding factor in me getting hired over someone else with equivalent experience and skill in computing and tech support (which is what the job involves) because, yes, some of our clients are ESL spanish-speakers. but it’s—there’s a disconnect. if i were in a tight competition to get this job i would be pouring my time into sharpening my programming skill and polishing up a portfolio of relevant work. i wouldn’t be devoting hours upon hours to learning spanish. right?

on the other hand—if cartography is a hobby cassandra is passionate about, and she’s 16 or 17 or 18 and she really likes the idea of being on the guard and really feels like she can do it and is bored with her dumb teenager job and desperate to get her dad to make her a guard without actually grasping what being a guard entails or the kind of work it involves or what she actually, realistically needs to do to have a shot, then… yeah, skipping work to play pretend with her weapons and convincing herself that her favorite hobby is totally going to prove to her dad that she’s ready to be a guard!!! makes perfect sense. it’s no different from tts varian tunnel visioning so hard on this fantasy of ‘i’ll surprise my whole village with hot running water and then my dad will be proud of me!!!’ that he neglects basic safety measures and accidentally blows the whole system up. it’s not realistic. it’s a fantasy. it’s play.

- the only time cassandra brings up eugene’s criminal past in tts is to mock him for being a loser. like. literally. the plot of fitzherbert pi kicks off when she calls him a “two-bit hood” and then when he fires back that flynn rider was a LEGEND!!! she fires back “key word being was. and… what is it you do now?” and that’s the only time she brings it up. granted this is 6-7 months into their relationship but… still, frankly i never got the impression that “former thief” was anywhere close to the top of cassandra’s list of reasons for hating eugene. he’s just a dick. she doesn’t like him because he’s a huge selfish jerk and she warms up to him after her starts behaving better.

- rapunzel goes to the ty lee school of flirting. just… laugh really hard at everything your crush says even if it’s not funny.

- despite my… intense and rapidly growing dislike for how cassandra is characterized in this book, her experiencing an actual physical reaction when rapunzel enters her space without permission is good. it’s about the boundaries. it has always been about the boundaries, and rapunzel crossing them, and the intractable messiness that arises from that.

- in fact: how many times does rapunzel cross boundaries in just this one little scene? oh, let me count the ways!

1 - when cassandra goes to shut the door, rapunzel ducks under her arm to enter the room. (eugene attempts to enter as well, but cass succeeds in blocking him.)

2 - missing or ignoring cassandra’s first “go away” hint about only playing individual sports.

3 - missing or ignoring cassandra’s second “go away” hint (“I let the silence get awkward.”)

4 - arranging cassandra’s invitation to the feast of elodie the great with the captain beforehand, so cass can’t use him as an excuse to decline.

5 - missing or ignoring cassandra’s obvious discomfort with this news, taking cassandra’s attendance at the feast as a done deal, and skipping straight to asking cassandra to sit next to her.

6 - in response to cassandra’s very diplomatic signal of not wanting to do that (“I sit wherever I’m assigned”), she declares that she’ll make sure cassandra is assigned to sit next to her.

7 - touching without permission, which makes cassandra flinch.

all of which results in cassandra making what she considers to be a “tactical surrender.” and then shutting and locking her door, because she feels so rattled. as i recall, lagoon is actually a lot mellower on the boundary violations front - and rapunzel actually learns better over the course of the story, which is probably the biggest reason that lost lagoon is not canon and cannot be canon to tts - but it feels worth writing this sort of thing out because, well. it is one of the dead horses i keep clobbering.

#lost lagoon reread #-cries in worldbuilding-#rta

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myveryownfanfiction · 4 years ago

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“Dunder Mifflin, this is Erin.” The normal drone of the office played in the background and I fixed the spreadsheet that Dwight had sent over.

“Honestly Dwight. How did you mess up my client list so bad?” I looked over the top of my computer to see the man in question shrug. “Everyone is thrown all over the place.” My gaze fell back on the sheet. “For crying out loud!” I gently kicked Dwight’s desk while he looked at me with an innocent expression.

“What’s wrong now (Y/N)?” his voice gave away that he knew exactly what was wrong.

“I think you know exactly what is wrong Schrute.” I narrowed my eyes at him. Dwight just shrugged his shoulders and clearly bit back a laugh. “Why did you have to….” We were cut off by my phone ringing. “Hold up.”

“Hello! This is (Y/N). How can I help you with all your paper needs today?” I put on a fake voice while I narrowed my eyes at Dwight again as he got up and leaned over my desk. He swatted my hand as I tried to stop him from accessing my computer.

“I’m emailing it to myself so I can fix it.” Dwight whispered as he did what he said. “It was a prank. Jim thought it up.” I shooed him away as the voice on the other end of the phone finally responded.

“(Y/N)! It’s Jo.” The CEO of Sabre rarely called Scranton but if she did, it was important.

“Oh! Hi Jo! Good to hear from you!” I dropped the customer service voice I was using. “What can I help you with?” Dwight and Jim gave me a look. I responded with a confused look of my own.

“I just wanted to let you know that the new manager is coming in today. He’s going to need an assistant regional manager. After going over the possible candidates, I thought you would be perfect.” Jo explained.

“Thank you very much.” I said, my eyes widening at the news. “What do I need to do?”

��Basically what I want you to do for Robert California is what Dwight did for Michael.” Jo said. I chuckled and opened my mouth to respond but she cut me to it. “But better. Without all the problems and issues that occurred while Michael was there.” I nodded even though she couldn’t see me.

“Sounds good.” I noticed the pair of pranksters watching me so I asked for their benefit. “So it sounds like you went with Robert California after all.” Jim’s eyes went wide and Dwight looked between the two of us.

“Yeah. After all those other so called candidates he was the best candidate. Albeit a little overqualified.” Jo clarified. I nodded and watched as Jim let his head fall on his desk.

“When should he be here and is there anything I should do before he gets here?” I was rapidly scribbling on a notepad trying to get a bunch of questions for Dwight down before Jo told me it was a lost cause. We jumped as the door opened with a bang. “Nevermind Jo. He’s here. I’ll keep you updated. Bye.” I slowly hung up the phone before moving to stand up. “Mr. California! Welcome….” My hand hung in the air where I had held it out for him to shake. Robert California had turned around and walked out of the office after taking one look around the room. I ran to the conference room where I saw his car peeling out of the lot. I turned around and looked into the camera that had followed me and shook my head. I couldn’t form any words as I rushed back to my desk and dialed Jo’s number. “Jo?” I breathed when the phone was picked up.

“What’s wrong dear?” From her tone, I could tell that either she was concerned by the way I sounded or someone had already called to let her know that Robert California had left as soon as he arrived. “(Y/N)?” I snapped out of my thoughts as her voice carried through again.

“He left.” I choked out. “Robert California left. He walked in, saw Phyllis cough, and walked out. He just drove off. He left.” I was close to hyperventilating and I could see Pam trying to get the cameras away from me as I leaned over my desk, trying to catch my breath and keep my cool as I waited for Jo to respond. “Jo I don’t know what to do. He’s gone. I don’t know if he quit or is coming back or what. But he’s gone Jo.”

“(Y/N). Sweetheart. You need to calm down.” Jo’s calming voice came over the phone. “Where are you? In the office?”

“Yeah. My desk.” I breathed out. Dwight was already unlocking the door to Michael’s office. Somehow I knew that is always what it would be to me, no matter who occupied that space.

“Go to Michael’s old office. Lock the door. Call me back. You don’t need the whole office watching you right now.” Jo hung up and I quickly made my way through the door that Dwight was holding open. I nodded in thanks and quickly sat down to call her back. The call didn’t last that long and by the end of it, I had ushered Jim and Dwight into the office with me.

“It looks like one of us will have to take over until Jo can get out here and pick the new manager.” I said. “Well, not you Dwight. Sorry.” Jim shook his head as soon as I started talking.

“You’ll have to do it. I won’t. And Dwight can’t.” Jim held his hands up in defeat while Dwight nodded in agreement. “Don’t worry (Y/N). You can do this.” Jim put his hand on my shoulder. I watched in shock as they filed out of the office. Taking a deep breath, I stood up and walked into the main room.

“Can I have everyone’s attention?” I called out timidly. Everyone turned towards me and Pam gave me a thumbs up. “Since Robert California left and Jo needs time to get up here to figure out the new manager, she appointed me acting manager. Jim is the assistant manager.” I shot him a look that clearly said I was getting back at him. “Jo should be here by next week so you won’t have to put up with me for too long.”

“Does she have anyone in the running?” Andy spoke up. I turned towards him and shook my head.

“If she does, she didn’t tell me.” I told him. I turned back into Michael’s office, just catching Erin’s thumb’s up to Andy. I smiled as I sat at the desk and started to catch up on the work that was piling up without a manager. It was going on the third day when Jo called back. “Hi Jo! What’s up?”

“(Y/N), have Andy move into Michael’s office. He’s going to be taking over as manager.” Jo said. I could tell by her tone that there was more she wasn’t telling me.

“What is it Jo? There’s something you aren’t telling me.” I worried my bottom lip as I motioned for Dwight to get Andy.

“You know me too well darling.” Jo sighed. I held up a finger for Andy and furrowed my eyebrows. “It’s going to come out sooner or later so you might as well hear it from me.”

“Jo what happened?” I was becoming worried at this point.

“Robert California is now the CEO of Sabre.” Jo finally told me. My jaw dropped.

“He’s what?!” I exclaimed. “How did he convince YOU to give him your job?!”

“He’s very persuasive.” Jo muttered.

“How persuasive does someone have to be to give them your own job?” I was frantically trying to get the attention of Jim, Pam, and Dwight. Andy finally took pity on me and waved them in.

“Honey, I think you know.” Jo said nonchalantly. I ran my hand down my face while nodding.

“Yeah. I think I do know.” I muttered. I decided I was going to keep that little piece of information to myself. “So what happens now?”

“Andy takes over. Everything will run as usual.” Jo calmly explained. “Robert California will be there either later today or tomorrow. I’m not really sure when. He will become your go-between with the board. Anything you would normally go to me for, go to him.” I sighed and acknowledged the decision. “Don’t worry sweetie. I will be there if you ever need me. You have my number. Everything will work out.”

“I hope so Jo.” I shook my head. “I really hope so.”

“Good luck. Give the office my love.” Jo hung up and I let my head fall onto the desk. Finally composing myself, I stood up and offered the seat to Andy.

“You’re manager now Andy.” I applauded him as he took his seat. “Remember with great power comes great responsibility. Use it carefully.”

“So does that mean Jo made a decision?” Andy looked up at me. I bit my lip.

“Yes and no.” I tilted my head back and forth. I was trying to keep the information to myself but I knew I couldn’t. Everyone was looking at me expectedly. “Jo made a decision. But it wasn’t about the manager.”

“Then what decision did she make?” Pam asked. I sighed and hung my head.

“She decided that Robert California is going to be the new CEO and he will be operating out of Scranton.” I finally told them. “Jo thinks he should be here either today or tomorrow. And I’m guessing I’m still the assistant manager.” We stood in the office for a little while longer before we all went out to do our own work. True to Jo’s word, Robert California showed up about an hour before the day ended.

“Andy. (Y/N). Would you please join me in the conference room?” Andy and I shared a look as we sat down at the conference table. Robert took a seat across from me while Andy sat next to me. “Since this is a new experience for everyone, I thought it would be a good idea to get to know each other. Starting today, I will be alternating between having meetings with the two of you. I’ll start with (Y/N) and I’ll see you tomorrow morning Andy.” Robert stopped talking and waited for Andy to leave the room. It took him a while to get the hint but when he did, Andy gave me a sympathetic look before going out to join the rest of the office.

“So what are these meetings going to be about Mr. California?” I asked. I thought that if I kept it professional, I would get in his good graces quicker.

“Robert is fine.” He said as he stood to close the door that Andy had left open. I nodded as he took his seat again. My eyes flicked to the door before focusing on him again. “The first couple will just be getting to know each other. After that, it will most likely be about the effectiveness of the office and what can be done to improve sales, morale, and so on.” Robert pulled out a notebook, opened to a blank page and wrote my name across the top. I swallowed as I watched my name appear letter by letter.

“Sounds good.” I choked out. Robert threw me a smile before focusing on the paper again.

“So how long have you been working here at Dunder Mifflin?” The pen was poised above the page in an almost taunting gesture.

“I think it’s been about,” I paused in thought. “3 years now.” Robert wrote it down before looking up at me.

“That’s been a long time. Was this meant to be a permanent thing or just temporary?” He looked slightly amused by the thought.

“At first I thought it would be temporary as they weren’t really looking for someone to stick around but then they saw my sales reports and figured it would be a good idea to keep me around permanently.” I explained. “Which honestly is rather amusing if you think about it. Especially considering that there were people from Stanford that were supposed to stay here but ended up leaving.” Realization slowly dawned on me. “Which might explain why they kept me around.” Robert chuckled and I smiled as he jotted that down.

“Is this a place that you would like to continue to work?” Robert looked up at me. My mouth moved but no words were coming out. Robert sensed my shock and quickly held up a hand. “Oh! No. No. No. I’m not asking that to fire you later! I’m just curious. You said you worked here for three years. That’s a long time at one company. I’m just curious if this is something you would like to continue to do in your life or if you think there is something else out there for you.” I sighed as his words relaxed me.

“I’m sorry.” I apologized as I shook my head. “After all the calls with Jo and having to take on the role of manager for a while before finally becoming the assistant manager, I might be a touch…” I sing-songed my head, looking for the right word.

“Concerned?” Robert suggested. “Or would anxious be a better word?” I smiled softly at him.

“Anxious would be the perfect word thank you.” I cocked my head as Robert reached across the table to gently touch my hand.

“You have no reason to be anxious. Especially around me (Y/N).” Robert soothed. “I have all the faith in the world that you are going to be an amazing assistant manager. Especially since I am very certain Andy is not going to be much better than your previous manager.”

“You got to meet Michael Scott?” I questioned. Robert chuckled.

“No. Unfortunately I didn’t.” Robert patted my hand. “As much as I would have liked to have a conversation with him, I got all my information from Jo.” I nodded and started to reach towards my pocket.

“That actually makes sense.” I said as I pulled out my phone. “Okay. So there are actually two reasons for this.” I held up the phone.

“First. I have videos of the various things that Michael did here. Pretty much all of them are funny. A couple are sad. And the last one is actually his engagement because no one else thought that it would be a good idea to get it other than on the documentary.” I unlocked the phone and pulled up the videos. “Second. I have his phone number. If you ever want to talk to him, I can introduce the two of you.” Robert smiled as he took my phone.

“Oh dear.” He chuckled as he saw the thumbnail for the first video I queued up. “I take it, it is going to be very interesting.” I nodded as he motioned for me to take the seat next to him. Once seated, I pressed play on the phone. The remainder of our meeting was filled with the two of us watching videos of the office’s many shenanigans. When we exited the conference room, we were a little surprised to find everyone left. “We were in there for a while.” Robert muttered as he looked around the empty office.

“We should have kept a better track of the time.” I chuckled. Robert nodded as he went back into the conference room to gather his few belongings. I went to my desk and gathered up my stuff. I waited for him by reception. He joined me a couple of minutes later. We headed downstairs together in a comfortable silence.

“Do you need a ride?” Robert asked as we walked outside. I shook my head.

“Nah. I’m good.” I pointed at the Ford that was left in the lot. Robert nodded and started to head towards his car. “Nice car.” I smirked as I followed him. He looked at me astonished.

“You know cars?” he asked. I nodded.

“I know older ones better.” I shrugged. Robert chuckled and shook his head. “I still know this one is a great one though.”

“I’ll have to take you for a spin in it at some point.” We shared a smile as Robert got into his car. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow (Y/N).” He waved as he drove off. I waved back and headed to my own car. Getting in, I sat there for a couple minutes before a smile made its way onto my face. Shaking my head, I pulled out of the lot and headed home.

“Maybe he won’t be that bad.” I said to myself. Giggling, I couldn’t deny the next thought that popped into my head. “Maybe I’ll take that chance if it arises.” When I got home, I went to bed happy and thinking of the man that had already wormed his way into my heart.

#james spader #james spader imagine #james spader fanfic #james spader fanfiction #james spader x reader #robert california #robert california x reader #robert california fanfic #robert california fanfiction #robert california imagine #the office #the office fanfic #the office fanfiction #the office imagine #the office x reader #dunder mifflin

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olicitysecretsanta · 5 years ago

Text

Love In An Elevator

For: Mirka @kuningatarmirka by @jennonthewire

Love In An Elevator

Another way Oliver and Felicity could have met, involving elevators and mistaken identity.

“Hi. I’m glad you could finally make it.”

One year earlier…

Felicity Smoak is having the kind of day that makes a person wish they’d never gotten out of bed. Overqualified for the grunt work she slogs through in IT at Merlyn Global, answering to a boss who’s so incompetent she can’t fathom how he even graduated college, and being the only woman in her entire department leaves her feeling less than stellar most days. But today is particularly awful, so much so that she grabbed her purse and walked out of her cubicle with no plans to return — which is how she now finds herself alone in the elevator at three twenty in the afternoon, several hours before she would normally clock out.

Leaning back against the cool metal of the elevator wall, she closes her eyes and tries to breathe deeply. Usually when she pictures abruptly quitting her job, it’s on the heels of telling off her boss and maybe programming his ringtone to elephant farts. She might still do that, actually.

Lost in thought, she doesn’t notice the elevator has stopped until a man steps in. He’s tall with broad shoulders snuggled into an impeccably fitted suit. She’s trying not to stare but it just can’t be helped. He flashes a polite smile then turns to face the door, and it’s a moment before she can tear her gaze away. He’s unfairly handsome. It’s stupid, really. No one should be that good-looking, and yet here he is.

“I love you.”

Did she just hear him right? Who tells random strangers they love them? Maybe he said ‘I love your shoes’ because her panda flats are really adorable or ‘I love ewes’ because he’s a big fan of sheep. Or what if this is some kind of time travel thing and he’s her husband from the future come back to replay their meet-cute? If she’s learned anything from years of Doctor Who watching, it’s that time is wibbly wobbly and anything is possible.

Except that this isn’t a TV show and she hasn’t said anything back, which feels rude? Maybe he’s just a guy who wants to spread happiness around. There’s nothing wrong with that.

“I love you, too.” The words are out of her mouth before she can stop herself, and she watches in utter horror as his back stiffens.

He turns to her slowly, lips pursed and eyebrows raised to the ceiling. She raises her hand in a little wave and tries to smile, but she stops midair when he also raises his hand and points to his ear.

And the Bluetooth he’s wearing.

Because he’s on the phone.

And not talking to her.

If the ground opened up and she fell through to another dimension, one where she hadn’t just told a complete stranger on an elevator who’s talking on the phone that she loves him, that’d be great.

When the elevator stops an eternity later, she’s out the door and through the lobby in a flash. She doesn’t even take a breath until she’s out on the sidewalk. Although now she’s unsure what to do as her car is in the parking garage, which is the level where she meant to get off but didn’t?, meaning she likely exited on the level Elevator Man chose, which means he could be around here somewhere.

Frack.

“Hi. I’m Oliver Queen.” The voice is smooth and soothing, and of course, belongs to Elevator Man. He’s likely trying to not startle the weirdo who just emotionally accosted him, and is now staring at him bug-eyed as if he’s a figment of her imagination. And maybe he is? Likely not, as the universe isn’t that kind to her today. Or ever, really.

Wait. Oliver Queen as in… Queen Consolidated. As in the C-E-fracking-O of Queen Consolidated! Frack, frack, double frack! Of course he’s Oliver Queen because her day literally could not get any worse.

“As I recall, you’re the one who told me you loved me. Can I really be all that bad?” Oliver Queen is standing in front of her, smiling.

Felicity closes her eyes tightly, realizing she’s just said all of that out loud and wishing she could teleport to anywhere but here.

“Yeah, you did.” Is he laughing at her?

“Are you laughing at me?” She jabs a finger into his chest. “Because listen, mister. I was just trying to not be rude. When someone says ‘I love you,’ the most obvious answer is ‘I love you, too.’ And frankly, I’ve had a really terrible day so sue me if my brain wasn’t exactly thinking clearly enough to contain my mouth.”

“I’m sorry,” he atones.

“Actually, don’t sue me. Please. I think I just quit my job and I can’t really afford attorney fees at the moment.”

She doesn’t realize he’s removed her finger from his chest and is holding her hand in a light grip until he says, “How about we start again? Hi, I’m Oliver Queen. And you are?”

“Felicity,” she replies, looking down at their clasped hands. Oliver moves to shake hers, “Smoak. Felicity Smoak. It’s nice to meet you.”

Oliver releases her hand with an easy smile. “Not so bad, right?”

“No, not so bad,” she teases back.

She immediately misses the feeling of his palm in hers, which is insane because he’s a complete stranger she just met and is also the best friend-slash-competitive rival of her boss’s boss’s boss’s boss’s son, Tommy Merlyn. Well, maybe ex-bosses now.

“Hmm?” She’s broken from her thoughts by his hand waving in front of her face.

“I asked if you wanted to get a cup of coffee. It seems like you could use one.” There’s that easy smile again.

She should say no. After all, she basically just quit her job and should get home to start planning her next steps. Rent doesn’t exactly pay itself.

But instead she surprises herself yet again. “Yes. Coffee would be nice.”

Felicity can’t say she’d ever imagined sitting across from Oliver Queen while drinking coffee, or that she’s thought about Oliver Queen that much at all.

But that’s exactly what’s been happening for the past three hours, as they’ve talked and shared and laughed. Oliver is an incredibly good listener. He never interrupts, just nods and asks thoughtful questions when she’s said something he doesn’t quite get.

“So, if working for someone else is ‘literally killing your soul,’ then why not work for yourself?”

“It’s not that I haven’t thought about it, Oliver. But starting your own company isn’t that easy. I have a small amount of savings that would probably cover the cost of branding and maybe advertising, but I’d be my only employee and my office space” — she air quotes — “would be the spare bedroom in my townhouse that you can’t currently see the floor of because it’s covered in spare computer parts.”

“People have started successful businesses with less, Felicity.”

She doesn’t think he understands what a risk it would be if it didn’t pan out, and tells him so.

“I don’t want to be offensive here, Oliver, but you’re a literal billionaire. You can afford to take risks with your money. I can’t.” Sitting back in her seat, she sips her second cup of coffee as a break in the conversation.

“Felicity.” Oliver leans forward slightly, elbows on the table. “I may not understand what it’s like to have money issues.” She snorts at that and he can’t help but smile a little. She’s charming him and she doesn’t even know it. “But I do know, very well, what it’s like to be in a job you hate — how much it takes from you, how hard you have to work just to keep your head above water.”

Placing her mug down carefully, she regards Oliver with a shrewd look that lets him know she’s figured out more than he may have been meaning to tell her.

“You don’t like being a CEO?”

It’s his turn to sip his coffee mindfully, deciding what feels comfortable to tell a stranger that also technically still works for your main competitor.

“I feel like I can trust you, Felicity.”

“What can I say? I just have one of those faces.” She’s hoping to lighten the sudden heaviness that’s taken over their conversation, but realizes quickly when his face falls that she’s said the wrong thing.

“Hey. You can trust me.” Felicity stretches her arm out across the table and turns her palm up, encouraging him. He takes her hand, and she squeezes softly.

“Thank you. And not really, no.” He shakes his head. “When my father died, there was just this assumption that I’d take over the company. My sister is still too young, although I think she’d make a much better CEO than I do. She’s ruthless,” he quips. Felicity smiles a little, and nods for him to continue.

“I’m not cut out for it. My dad used to bring me to QC when I was a kid. He’d sit me in his office, and I’d pretend to sign documents and give orders. It was some of the only time I got to spend with him. The company kept him away, and then so did his extracurriculars.” Oliver frowns heavily at that, and Felicity doesn’t have to ask to know exactly what he means.

“I don’t want to be my dad, Felicity. He worked himself to death, and when he was home, it wasn’t any better. My parents fought constantly, which was better than them not fighting because at least they weren’t ignoring each other completely.” He holds her hand a little tighter. “That’s not going to be me. But, the company needs someone to lead if for no other reason than to save the jobs of thousands of employees. I can’t make a different choice, not yet at least.”

“Thank you for telling me that, Oliver. I know it can’t be easy to talk about.”

He nods. “Easy with you, it seems.” The blush that creeps up her neck and onto her cheeks makes him smile.

“I feel the same way, which is kind of weird, right? Seeing as we just met?”

“I guess. Or… not.” He smiles and Felicity can’t help but smile back. “Felicity, would you like to go out to dinner with me?” “I don’t want to read too much into this, but are you asking me out on a date?” Her voice squeaks just a little. “Like an actual date? Like a date, date?”

“Well, sure uh…” he stumbles. “The implication being with dinner that you’d uh…”

“Usually I’m the one talking in sentence fragments,” she interrupts.

Oliver smiles then and huffs out a laugh before his face turns serious. “Felicity, would you like to go out to dinner with me?”

“What about your girlfriend?”

He pauses, “my what?”

“In the elevator earlier, you said ‘I love you’ to someone. I guess I just assumed —”

“Ah. That was my sister, Thea, on the phone earlier. She was trying to sweet talk me after her report card came in the mail. She’s seventeen and in danger of not graduating. I hired her a tutor, which she’s against.” He leans back in his chair, “but with those grades she’s out of options.”

“You’re a good brother, Oliver. She may not appreciate what you’re doing for her now, but she’ll thank you later when she’s walking across that stage to get her diploma.”

“I don’t need her thanks, but cooperation would be appreciated,” he laughs. “So, dinner?”

“Yes,” she nods, biting her lip to hold back the smile threatening to overtake her.

After her conversation with Oliver, Felicity goes home to crunch numbers and figure out just how she could make starting her own company work. She emails her resignation to Merlyn Global, and resists the urge to tell her boss exactly what she thinks of him, and then sets to registering her business name and applying for necessary licenses. Within a few days Smoak Tech is officially launched, from Felicity’s spare bedroom and with only one employee. But it’s everything, and she feels the universe is finally on her side.

She and Oliver talk regularly and still meet for coffee, at what’s now their usual place, more days than not, but they haven’t scheduled their date. If Felicity is honest with herself, the reason isn’t that she’s been too busy but rather that she’s purposefully avoiding the situation.

Oliver is kind and patient. He seems to get her despite them having known each other for only a few weeks. She tries to joke with him about her abandonment issues, make light of the situation so she doesn’t seem as broken as she feels. But Oliver isn’t having it.

“You don’t have to be funny for me,” he promises.

She sighs heavily. He really does get her.

“When I was a girl, I hated myself. I thought I was broken. That no one could, or ever would, love me.” She turns away then, feeling tears prick her eyelids. “It’s the only way a child could grow up when their father abandons them.”

Oliver is silent as she talks, but the space between them isn’t uncomfortable. He nods patiently, encouraging her.

“All I ever wanted to know was why, you know?” She swipes her fingers underneath her glasses hoping to save mascara from running down her face. “What was so wrong with me that he would leave?” “Felicity…”

“It’s okay, Oliver.” She smiles at him a little. “I don’t need you to make it better. I just wanted you to understand. I’ve already made a huge change in starting Smoak Tech and leaving a job that paid me, not to mention the health and dental benefits were excellent.” He chuckles at that and some of the tension leaves her body knowing he hears her. “I just… can’t start anything else new right now that I’d want to give my full attention to.” She leans over the table they’ve each come to think of as their spot and cups his cheek in one hand. “And I know that whatever this is between us deserves my full attention. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us now. Do you understand?”

He places his hand over hers, and leans into her palm just a little.

“I do. We can wait,” he starts. “Oliver, I can’t ask you to do that —” “Stop interrupting.” She folds her lips together and it earns her a smile. He removes her hand from his cheek, but doesn’t let go.

“You’re not asking, I’m offering. Let’s be friends. See where it goes.” He shrugs a little. “I like you, Felicity. I care about you. And I want you in my life. If you’re not ready for anything more than friendship that’s okay.” “What if I’m never ready?” she asks quietly.

“Then I’ll be happy to be your friend.” He’s so matter-of-fact in his answer that Felicity can’t help but be wary. It can’t be that easy.

“Except it is,” he challenges. When she blinks, he adds, “Out loud again.”

“Of course it was.” She rolls her head back and stares at the tin-lined ceiling. “I don’t want you to think I’m dangling maybes, Oliver.”

“Hey. Look at me.” He continues when he has her attention, “You’re not dangling anything.”

“So, we’re friends?”

“We are.” His mouth quirks just a little in that way he has that lets her know he’s amused by her. Felicity nods in acceptance, still holding his hand.

“Can we still go out for dinner, though? I’m really craving Italian.”

Over the course of a year, she and Oliver foster a friendship — one that becomes a cornerstone of her life in Starling. Building a start-up is exactly as hard as it sounds, some days even more so, and leaves her little time for herself let alone to nurture relationships. But Oliver is there anyway, supporting her from the sidelines. He reminds her to call her mother once a week, and cheerleads her into taking a weekend off to visit Barry and Iris: “They’re your best friends, Felicity, and you haven’t seen them in months. Smoak Tech might be an infant, but she can manage without her mom for two days. Trust me.”

Whether it’s bringing homemade lasagna to her office after hours because he knows she’s still there — “You can’t tell me you’ve eaten anything other than coffee and M&Ms because I won’t believe you” — or providing a listening ear at two in the afternoon or two in the morning — “You can always call me, Felicity” — he’s quickly become her best friend.

He’s the only person in her life who doesn’t make her feel guilty when she reads texts and forgets to reply, or drops off the grid for days at a time lost in perfecting some minute aspect of a security code she’s creating for her client. Instead, he reminds her gently to shower and sleep; and on the days she’s particularly tired and weary, offers up a foot rub and her favorite glass of red wine. They spend Sunday mornings at Oliver’s apartment where he prepares them brunch — “I like cooking for you”— a passion of his that Felicity wholeheartedly appreciates given her own lack of culinary prowess.

A few months after they meet, Thea is arrested for driving under the influence, and Felicity is the person Oliver calls to go with him to retrieve her from the police station in the middle of the night. She holds his hand on the car ride to the precinct, and reminds him to go easy on his sister — “She needs her big brother who loves her unconditionally more than a lecture right now.”

When Thea is given probation and mandatory community service, Felicity offers her an intern position and makes it her personal mission to help Thea find things she’s good at to invest her time in that don’t include shopping or partying.

Of course, the side effect of Thea working closely with Felicity is the opportunity for her to keenly observe just how her brother and his favorite blonde genius interact. After watching them dance around each other for what feels like years, she takes it upon herself to point out to Felicity what their “friendship” — “Yes, I’m using air quotes appropriately” — looks like from the outside, while they share dim sum she’s ordered in for lunch.

“You two know you’re dating, right? That’s what this is like, you’re not just friends.”

“Of course we are, Thea. Your brother is my best friend,” Felicity counters.

“Right, but you’re also in love with him.” Thea points a chopstick in Felicity’s direction, but in a subtle effort to avoid questioning is stuffing an entire dumpling in her mouth.

“It’s fine, you know. He’s in love with you, too,” she shrugs casually. “Anyone can see that… well, except maybe you.”

“I’m not in love with your brother, Thea,” Felicity tries, forcing the words from her mouth in a way that even she can admit doesn’t sound the least bit convincing. “Really,” Thea deadpans. “And that’s why you’re six different shades of red right now and I wouldn’t even be able to make out what you just said with that second dumpling you just stuffed in your mouth if I didn’t eat lunch with you every day.”

Felicity attempts a side eye that comes out more like a quizzical grimace.

“I’m going to take that look to mean you know I’m right.” Thea collects her take-out box and napkins before standing. “I’m not saying you have to do anything about it right this minute but…” Thea closes her eyes for a moment and when she looks at her again Felicity is struck by the sincerity she sees in her expression. “You and my brother. I don’t know. You just work. You’re smart and capable and you challenge him. He’s grumpy and annoying —” “I like to call that brooding,” Felicity interrupts.

“Yeah, that,” she snorts. They both share an eye roll at Oliver’s expense. “But he’s also happy. You make him happy. He trusts you, and you know Ollie so you also know how hard that is for him. He’s taken on a lot since Dad died and left him the company. He never wanted that.”

“I know he didn’t,” she mumbles quietly.

“Right,” Thea nods, “which just makes my point for me. He confides in you, relies on your opinion. You help him see there’s more to life than QC and responsibility. You’re his person, Felicity.”

She turns to leave then, not waiting for a response, but stops in the doorway. “I’m not saying you have to do anything about it. Ollie and I didn’t grow up with a great example of what a relationship should be so I know love stories don’t always end up happy.“

“Yeah, line forms behind me on that one.”

Thea’s smile is small but kind. “But we can’t let our parents’ mistakes influence our decisions, especially if it means we miss out on the possibility of love.”

Felicity purses her lips together as she regards her young protégé. “Thea Queen, when did you get so wise?”

“It’s a gift,” she responds with a shrug of her shoulder.

Felicity mulls over what Thea said on the drive home that night. Could Oliver be in love with her? She replays in her mind conversations she’s had with him over the past year.

If you ever need to tell someone about your day, you can tell me.

Is that judgment I’m hearing? Pride.

You’re not gonna lose me.

Thank you for always being on my side.

No other place I’d rather be.

I know who you are. You’re the man that I believe in.

Nothing worthwhile ever comes easy.

You’re remarkable.

It’s been a quiet dream she’s kept to herself all these months: of him feeling the same and their making a go of it — being in love and happy, having a partner to rely on, their own team of two. She’s not wanted to say out loud that she’s in love with Oliver. It’s felt too risky, made her too vulnerable, too fragile. What if it didn’t work out? She’d lose her best friend and the man she loves all at once. But when she looks toward the future, she can’t imagine it without him. He’s her always.

And she just wants a chance to be his.

He’d texted her earlier that day asking if she wanted to stop by for dinner, and she’d replied with a quick “We’ll see, hopefully yes,” but that was hours ago. Whatever he’d made for dinner was probably cold by now, and maybe he wouldn’t even be waiting for her still.

In what is the second impulsive life decision she’s made since meeting Oliver Queen, she makes a u-turn and rather than continuing on her drive home heads toward Oliver’s apartment. She doesn’t have a plan outside of tell Oliver you’re in love with him, which as far as plans go is not the best. Oliver deserves an entire monologue of all the ways she appreciates him, and just how much he means to her.

You’ve opened up my heart in a way I didn’t know was possible.

You’re always saying how you want me to be happy. The thing is, as long as you’re in my life I am.

I love every moment that I’m with you, no matter where we are.

We found ourselves in each other.

Love is too small a word.

The elevator ride to his floor feels like the longest of her life, and is incredibly ironic considering the last time she was in an elevator and told Oliver she loved him; back then, she was hoping the Hellmouth that’s very likely under Starling would open up and swallow her whole.

What a difference a year can make.

It’s the ding signaling she’s reached the penthouse that brings her back to the present, and directly across from Oliver’s door. She’s been here hundreds of times and never felt nervous, but now she’s concentrating on her breathing and making sure she puts one foot in front of the other.

“It’s now or never, Smoak,” she whispers to herself. “Go get your man.”

She raises a shaky hand to knock, but pulls back at the last second to take another calming breath. Closing her eyes tight, she raps against the wood in quick succession. It takes Oliver less than thirty seconds to answer the door, yet it feels like an eternity as every scenario of how this could go horribly wrong flies through her head.

“No,” she steels herself. “You deserve this.”

When the door opens, Oliver stands in front of her wearing that soft Henley she loves to steal on movie nights when she’s cold and those jeans that give her not-so-platonic thoughts every time he turns around. But it’s his socks that get her. He’s wearing the pair she picked up for him in the airport gift shop after her last visit home. The words Fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada are written across his toes, and she can’t help but grin.

Even when she’s not here, she’s with him. The smile on his face mirrors hers, and she takes his outstretched hand to lead her inside.

“Hi. I’m glad you could finally make it.”

#arrow #olicity #olicity secret santa #goodbye olicity #submission

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nickhembery · 5 years ago

Text

trigger warning: shit gets dark

I've been thinking about writing this for a while. It's going to be a long one, because it's going to tell a story of a long period in my life. It's going to get into a lot of banality of office work, and its going to go to some dark places, because it's also the story of depression. My depression. My sink into some pretty dark thoughts and the path out of them.

The story starts in 2007. I was a year out of university with a degree barely worth the paper it's printed on, so was struggling to find a job. A task made a lot harder because I still didn't have any idea what I wanted to do for a career. So I was going from short temp job to short temp job, feeling kind of down. When one day I get a text from an agency that had given me a few jobs. "Want to be working Monday?" I think it said. I replied in the affirmative. I was given an address and told to be there at 8.30am on Monday. I said I would be there.

The company I had just agreed to work at was at the time a freshly independent arm of Zurich bank. It operated in a very niche area of financial services. When you want to get a mortgage, insurance, or some other financial thing, you can go to a bank. Or you could pay someone else to go to the banks and find the best deal for you. These people are called financial advisers, they go and talk to random people and convince them to act as intermediaries to the bank, and doing this they earn commission. This commission can vary, unless they are part of a large group, not quite a union, of similar advisers that can collectively bargain better commission rates for the advisers. That's what this company was, an intermediary for an intermediary, a company that only dealt with other companies and to the public at large is invisible.

My job at the company was quite simple. When the financial advisers sell things, they earn commission, that commission comes from the bank, goes through the company, and on to the adviser, except when the computer system failed to process it. My task was to look at these system failures, figure out why they failed, get them working again and the money passed on to the adviser. It sounds quite slick when you say it like that, except it was monotonous, easy and boring. There were only actually about six reasons that a payment failed to process automatically, and quite quickly you got good at spotting what the cause was with just a glance at the data. From there, it was simply a case of following the steps and pushing buttons in the right order to get things moving again. After that, you moved onto the next payment in your list of payments to deal with. Because there was always more.

That, in a nutshell, was my job. The digital equivalent of the old-timey footage of the factory worker doing the same thing over and over. I was there to correct a failure in an automatic process, and at any time could be made redundant when they figure out how to stop it happening. But this is where things take a dark turn. I was never made redundant. In all the time I was at the company, no one ever changed the system in an effort to effect the automatic processing. It was easier for the company to employ me, and a lot of other people, to push the buttons in the correct order, than it was to get someone to actually fix the system. That's a heavy thing to carry with you. You're not worth enough to be a saving if you're made redundant. So you sit there, working your tools on the conveyor line.

Let's talk about the tools for a minute. Those didn't change much in my tenure either. The thing the advisers used to send us information about the things they sold changed twice. It started they were using paper. Then a digital system was built over a few years by many, many contractors. But it basically didn't work, so was scrapped and replaced in about two years after launch. There was one particular time when £10,000 had been spent on a button that would stop some errors happening. It didn't work, so we saw no difference. The thing that all our records of payments were stored on was excel spreadsheets. Thousands upon thousands of records per sheet, switched out monthly. We were using it like a database table. Information was constantly being entered and changed, by multiple people at once. So it broke a lot. You'd try to save changes and you'd get an error message. The source file was corrupted, or deleted. When that happened there was a twenty-minute procedure to fix things and get back on track. It happened at least once a month. IT apparently spent a long time trying to solve it. One time they announced they had solved the problem, and while they had, they also caused an even worse problem, so I demanded we be rolled back immediately. We were rolled back after the second instance. The last tool we had was the main database and payments system. Every record on the spreadsheet already existed on the payments system, but there was no way to retrieve records in the filtered form we needed on the fly. So we went between the spreadsheet and the payments system, sorting things out and amending data. The payments system in a word, sucked. It crashed four times a day and you had to reset it on your computer. Once a month it went down for the whole company for about an hour. Imagine you're typing an email, you hit send and you get an error message. You restart your email client and it doesn't want to open. You ask the person next to you to check their email, theirs is broke too. You ask around, no email for anyone. Then someone has to call IT and report that email is down. Then you wait, and no one can do anything without email. Every month, the tools we relied one would break down and we had to wait for them to be fixed. And neither of those was changed.

One more thing to talk about in the structure of the job. Crunch time. You ever have a big deadline, where a lot of work needs to be done in a short space of time so everyone has to put in extra hours? And it's really important so everyone is expected to come in and help out, because you have to hit that target? How often does that happen for you? In this job, there was one every single month. I mentioned the spreadsheets were swapped out monthly. That's because our cycle of work was on a monthly pay run cycle. Everything that came in during the month was processed in the same month. Well, mostly. 99% was the average. And you'd think okay, so you see what you get at the start, figure out how many then work to the speed so you're done at the end, right? Wrong. Stuff keeps coming in throughout the month, and all of it has to be done. This includes the mammoth file that comes in three to five days before the deadline, and is equivalent in size to half of all of what you've done in the month to that point. Three days to process thousands more payments. And this was routine. Every month, the file lands and everyone gets to work on it. The spreadsheet and system crashes frequently happened during these periods. One time the bosses did trial offsetting the mammoth file to the following month so there wouldn't be crunch for us. But the bosses upstairs didn't like it, so it was put back. A crunch period. Every single month. It's worth pointing out that this was my first proper job, so I didn't actually know this was abnormal. So I just got on with it.

So this is all pretty sad. The work is easy to the point of mind-numbing boredom. The tools break frequently. Nothing is being done to make things better. Periods of high stress all the time. What do you do? You try to leave. Except. I was hired as a temp in July 2007. Made permanent in late 2008. Then the financial crises happened. No one was getting out. Every job advertised was crap or worse. It was a while before it was worth job hunting seriously again. And that didn't go well. At one point I talked to a career's adviser because as I put it "the phone doesn't ring", no one was interested in me. I was overqualified for the crap and underqualified for everything else. Trapped. Doing the same crap, over and over, in a monthly cycle, over and over. I had already identified and openly talked about how I disliked the job. I described myself as a professional button pusher. Or, bored office worker by day, insane video gamer by night. Or, everything positive in my life is outside of work.

The positive things. They were there. I had met a group of friends that are still with me today. My family were and still are incredibly supportive of me. I travelled, going to various events and seeing strange sights. And I found the thing I wanted to really do for a career. In 2011 I was a founding member of a writing group in which we all read and critiqued each other's work. And while I could be cutting in my comments, I was honest and very good at it. And I enjoyed it. Pursuing that, I looked into how to do it for a job. It's very tough when you're not ten years younger than I was, doing or done an English degree at a better university than I went to, or just had decent connections in the industry (that I didn't have). So, freelance work. What a mess that is. Various websites offer connecting freelancers to customers, but those are fiercely competitive, to the point that it's a race to the bottom, working virtually for free, if you find work at all. The freelance market is a full-time job to find part-time work. Not fun. Something I started doing was seeking out courses on proofreading in order to boost my profile. And this is when things get very, very dark.

In 2014 I received the results of my third (I think, it might have been second) attempt at one of these courses, and I didn't make the cut. Feeling sad and not having anything else to do that day, I went out to the gym. Driving along a dual carriageway, I noticed that there wasn't a barrier in the grass verge between the opposing lanes. I thought about veering across and causing a head-on collision. What stopped me was the thought "no, that's really rude to the other driver". The thing about low-burning anxiety is that you're constantly afraid of strangers. What if they attack me? What if he tries to mug me? What if that bus jumps the curb and hits me? All of these things are imagined external threats. This thought of veering my car was the first time it would be me causing the damage, so it flagged immediately as something that shouldn't be there. In a bit of a daze I continued to the gym, worked out for a bit then went home. When I arrived I switched my computer on and googled "depression test". I found seven online tests on various sites, and did all of them. The results across the board, were that I was seriously depressed. I sat back, and thought about this for a moment. Then I thought that the suicidal thought incident probably triggers a thing in them for maximum safety. Anyone that thinks of killing themselves is automatically told to seek help. So I did all the tests again, and this time I left out the suicidal thought bit and lied a little for good measure, saying I wasn't as bad as I really felt. The results were the same. Heavy depression. Get help.

I quickly arranged an appointment with a doctor, got a prescription for anti-depressants and various reading material. At the time I was struggling to read for long periods, my attention wasn't holding, so I got a couple of audiobooks on depression and low self-esteem. I figured there was a lot of overlap. I also met with a therapist, and attended a seminar series to talk about my issues. The cause of this sadness was immediately obvious. The job. But, I couldn't quit. When I had met with the career's adviser a few years previous, the same one that I had told "the phone doesn't ring", I had asked about quitting so that I could become 'immediately available' as some ads requested. He advised me against it, stating that those currently in work were 40% more likely to find new work. The logic is there, you're proving that someone wants to hire you, so the new people should too. Though I sometimes wonder on the accuracy of the figure. But what to do when the job gives you depression and you can't quit? I decided to give myself six months to learn about my condition and let the medication kick in, then start job searching with a seriousness hitherto unseen. I have no idea if I just used 'hitherto' correctly. Anyway, learning.

How does depression work, and how do you cope with it? In reading (listening) and talking, I learned about various coping mechanisms, and that somehow I'd done everything right. It was part of how the job was so identifiable as the cause. I didn't do anything other than the job that didn't give me happiness, reward or satisfaction. Like going to the gym. That started because I was feeling pains in my arms and shoulders from lack of exercise, so I joined up to make that go away. Exercising is highly recommended to depressives because of all the endorphins. Another was staying up late. Lying awake in bed is classic bad thoughts time, so I avoided it as much as possible. I would stay up on the computer until the early hours, then I would climb into bed and play a different game, keeping going with that until I was almost passed out from exhaustion. Only then would I switch everything off and go to sleep. It wasn't healthy, but it kept the bad thoughts at bay. Living with other people also helped greatly. They could keep an eye on you, make meals so that you actually ate, and be someone to pretend to be normal for. One time I was alone in the house for a while, and it took me three hours to get out of bed, wash and dress. Wouldn't have got away with that if anyone else had been home and needed to use the toilet. But the most important mechanism by far, was the first one.

Most people when they work listen to music. A radio is the classic. These days it’s youtube or spotify. But I didn't listen to music, because it wasn't enough of a distraction. I could do my job, listen to music and daydream at the same time. And they weren't good daydreams. So I listened to podcasts and audiobooks. Thousands upon thousands of hours, I heard quiz shows, tech news, movie reviews, historic stories, short stories, random rants and books and books and books. I didn't talk to my colleagues much. I would arrive, switch on my PC, plug in my headphones, and be silent for most of the day. I didn't like saying good morning to people, I can't recall why, and I thought it would be horrible if all I said to people was goodbye, so I didn't engage them unless absolutely necessary. Sometime people ask how I could work and listen to spoken word at the same time. I always equated it to driving and listening to the radio. I was looking at shapes (numbers) and hearing words. I kept the two separate in my head and kept going. If I had to write an email I would pause the audio. Needless to say, with all the silence, I wasn't popular. I didn't care. I really didn't want to be there, so I did my best to pretend I wasn't.

Slight tangent, how often does the phone ring at your work? Once a day? Once a week? Several times a day? Well, when I started at the job the phone would ring a lot. Because as well as being the correction mechanism for the automatic system, we were also the second line support for the contact centre. A payment would go wrong, an adviser would call up, the person they reach wouldn't know anything about it, so they would call us. Again and again. And these were important calls, our customers the advisers couldn't just be ignored, no. So there always had to be someone to answer the phone, which meant everyone couldn't be on lunch at the same time, which in turn meant that everyone had a set period when they went to lunch. From twelve till one or one till two. The team was split down the middle. You left on the dot and you were back on the dot. Annoying, but also strangely fortuitous. Because it gave me a set period every day of non work. Where I could leave and partake of another activity. Some people went for walks, or read a book. Me, I wrote. Many thousands of words. Then I edited. Then other stuff, I'll get back to that later. The 'wrong' part about this rigidness was that unlike my job, things changed for the contact centre. What was once six people and no clue was grown to twenty who were well trained and knew their stuff. My phone stopped ringing. They didn't need us anymore, but the rigid lunch times stayed. I wonder why. Anyway, the writing I did in my lunch breaks was a great coping mechanism, gave me a massive sense of accomplishment. "What did you do at work today?" "I wrote 1000 words" In my lunch break.

That was all stuff I was doing by accident when I was diagnosed. After the six month to learn and let the meds kick in, I really got going. It was here that I started my annual goal setting, which has featured heavily in the blog before. "In the coming year I will X, Y and Z". I wrote many drafts of books. I learned to touch type. I learned how to animate. I tried several times to learn how to code. I tried and failed and tried some more. But the big thing was that I put on the list was to get a new job. And here is why it took so long to come off anti-depressants and declare myself well: job searching is hard. You write a CV, you search for jobs in your area, you put in applications for every one you think you could get, and you wait. Every day, searching, writing, applying. I also signed on with almost every job agency in the area. For the most part the experience was the same, you go in, fill out forms, sign up, lots of smiles and handshakes, you leave, you never hear from the agency again. Attempts to contact them are ignored or brushed off. There's a couple specific stories to tell here. One agency approached me and asked me to sign up, I happened to have a day when I could come in as I was also going to the dentist. I told them what time I would drop by and to let me know if that wasn't good. The day came, I drove over, got buzzed through the door, sat in the reception area, and waited. For an hour. I went back outside, got on the intercom again and was buzzed inside again. This time someone turned up and told me politely that she couldn't help me as she oversaw a different area, the person I was there to see was busy, and they also don't take walk ins, so please leave. I left. At half past four that afternoon I got an email from the contact saying sorry but they don't have time that day, is there another time I'm available. I did not reply. Another story. One time after applying I got a call, it was from the agency that listed the ad. They had me on file, I had signed on with them two years previous, but could I please come in and sign on again. I replied that none of my information had changed, and I had never actually left the agency's rolls, so why did I need to sign on again? She agreed and ended the call. I never heard from them again. To this day I am confused as to what people who work in job agencies actually do.

Back to my search. Every day I checked a few different websites and applied for whatever I had a shot at. When you do this everyday, you're effectively staying current in the market, seeing stuff the same day it's posted and you can skip the things you've seen before. The upside of this is that you're not wasting time on old listings that already have lots of applications. The downside is you see how few jobs are being posted day to day. But still, you apply, and you actually get results. People call you and invite you in to interview. Things get more frustrating than when dealing with agencies. You get a date, time and location. You make arrangements, put on your suit, show up. You smile, you shake hands, you answer their questions. They say thank you and goodbye. It's some time until you hear from them, or from a representative. The answer is always no. The reason for why it's no is rarely there. Occasionally you get told that one of the other candidates was better in some way, which is understandable. The rest of the time, nothing to tell you why. One time I got the call that I hadn't been selected, and when I asked why they said "client suitability". I asked what that meant, they replied that I didn't tick all the boxes that they wanted. I asked which boxes were lacking. We went round and round a little until I backed them into a corner, and they admitted that they didn't know why I wasn't chosen. I just about held back from asking why the fuck they bothered to call. Just.

After about two years of searching, applications, rare interviews, no feedback, I decided to do something about it. I got in touch with careers advisers again and they forwarded me to a local office where I could be given a mock interview. I wanted to know why I was being told no all the time, and I was determined to get an answer. The nice group sent me a list of questions ahead of time to make prepared answers for, which was good. On the day I suited up, went along and we sat down. The questions were all generic, as they couldn't do an interview for a specific job. It was all about my skills, what I could bring to the table, my goals. I answered everything as best I could. The mock interview ended and I asked what I'm doing wrong. I was told "that was great, I'd hire you on the spot". I think that's the worst bit of feedback I've ever received. No advice or ideas on why I wasn't being selected. The best they could offer me was to flat out ask how I did on the day to get immediate feedback.

We're into the final stretch now. The last year at the bad job. I didn't know it yet of course, I was still getting rejected all the time and had days when I felt I could lie down on the floor of the office and go to sleep in the middle of the day. It's worth noting this period because things got a little better, and they also got worse. What to go over first. How about promotions? The entire time I worked at the company, I was not promoted. I was the same grade the day I left as the day I was made permanent staff. The way to get promoted and the raise that goes with it was to make your boss like you. That's a bit difficult when you're unsociable, depressed, and your immediate superior is an idiot you refuse to talk to. Really, on paper she was my manager and was responsible for my annual assessments. In practice, her boss handled those for me and I refused to go back. So no promotion for me. It was promised by the CEO in that last year that the company would formalise the way to get promoted. You don't need to be liked if you're good at what you do, I think. That method was yet to be published when I left, likely because there was so many people that could rightly kick up a fuss at being passed over in the past. So there's that. Next, bonuses. The company, when it was formed, was an offshoot of Zurich as I said. Being a limited company, there were shares available that could only be held by certain people, including employees. These shares were allocated out to the staff as bonuses each year on the reason that one day the company would be sold and everyone would get a big payout. Well, in my last year with the company, it was announced that these shares actually had an expiry date. Ten years after allocation, if the company wasn't sold then the shares were void. All that promise of a payout evaporated. The company wasn't going to sell, the plan was to go public. But, bonuses for the staff. What to do instead? Well, they instituted a "long term incentive plan", where on four-year cycles staff would be given a moderate payout by the company. The first cycle would start the following year, and as a reward to all the staff that had been with company for a decade already, they would be getting *slightly* more than people who had joined yesterday. No one cheered. Related to bonuses, annual raises. Inflation is real, you need to keep pay going with it. But how much? That is what the annual appraisal determines. For a long time you were given a score out of 150. Most people got 85-95. Reasonable. It got you a modest bump in pay. In the last year, the system was changed to grading out out of five. Not five hundred, five. The lowest you could get was a one. Things got a bit more black and white. And, I was given a two. Not because I had actually done badly, but because I wasn't fulfilling my potential, apparently. No, I don't know what that could look like. So a few months later (after the boss' boss had changed) when everyone was getting letters about how much they were getting extra, I didn't get a letter. That two cost me all possibility of a raise. That grates. What grates more is that also in that last year a new guy was hired to the team who had no more responsibility than me, but was hired to a the upper grade (with the extra money). Similar to the money situation, was the wellbeing situation. Every year the company ran a survey to see how the staff felt things were going. Every year I filled it out and told them how miserable I was. In the last year, it turned out that everyone in my team had filled out the survey to similar effect. 40 people who all worked together weren't happy with their lot. So one day we were excused from normal duties (button pushing) and taken next door to a hotel to sit in a conference room and talk. We were shown graphics of our survey results and asked what could be done to improve those scores. What weren't we happy about? What could be changed? Being someone who had given this a lot of thought, I was able to answer. I spoke of all the problems, the unmoving, the boredom, the being ignored. And after that day, nothing changed. I sometimes wonder if anything ever did. By far, the strangest story of that last year is when I was asked to train a new hire. I didn't want to, but the bosses insisted. What's strange about this is that the person exposed a flaw in the hiring system. They were a simpleton. I taught them the basics of how spreadsheets worked, once answered a question with "you asked me that yesterday and wrote down what I told you", and I corrected their work again and again. It would be called amazing if it wasn't tragic. The job that was so easy and boring it gave me depression, was too hard for this person. Eventually, an excuse was found to fire them. And new hires after that described tests they took before being taken on.

The incredible thing about this entire journey, is that I don't remember the most important part. The day I applied for my current job. I can't remember seeing the ad, or filling out a form, or writing an email. That single, critical moment that would see my life change is missing from my memory. It was the job hunt of course. Searching every day, the phone ringing occasionally, always being told no, what's the point of remembering a single application? So I didn't. And it was a surprise when the phone rang to invite me for an interview. Naturally, I suited up and went along. I remember the clock on the wall over the interviewers' shoulders. I remember finding a fleck of white in the glass of water I had been given and looking up to see if the paint was peeling off the ceiling. I can't really remember the questions. I can remember when my car stopped on the drive home. The battery had died, I had to get a jump start to get home then order a replacement. Aside from the car trouble, it was just another interview. So it was a greater surprise when I got the call about the second interview. When I went along, one of the people I had met the first time remembered me and said hi. I was shocked, I also didn't remember them. I met the people that are now my bosses and spoke to them. I recall near the end I asked the 'how did I do?' question, and expected to get a non-answer. I was told that so long as I did well on the test then I had it in the bag. Okay then, more pressure please. They had told me about the test beforehand, and I brought along my own pens for it. One day, I hope to interview an assistant or replacement proofreader, and I'll ask to see what pens they brought. By far, the biggest shock was when I got that phone call, and was told I had the job. I can't recall exactly what I said, but I doubted that it was real, wanted to know if they were sure, something like that. After that call, I had to collect my thoughts and hold back from bursting into tears. I went back to my desk and immediately handed in my notice. It was within two days either way of eleven years after I had started at 8.30am on a Monday.

The month of my notice was an epilogue. Word spread that I was leaving. I smiled more than I ever had. People asked how I'd gotten the job, I told them about the journey. No one asked me if I was sure, I was the guy that said "I would love to be made redundant". But there was the meeting. In the larger team of 40, I was in a pod of eight. We all worked on the same stuff. This pod included the guy who was hired to be above me, and the idiot boss. A few days before the meeting, she asked me if there was anything I did that I thought other people would need to take care of when I wasn't there. I had a list. I wrote it down, and this list was put onto the agenda for the meeting. They were going to hear about all the busywork I did when there was nothing else to do that was actually really productive. On the day, we stood and left our desks to go to the meeting, the boss turns to me and asked me to take the minutes of the meeting. I told her that as I was doing the explaining and handover, I was going to be doing a lot of talking. She said, and I kid you not, "But last time you did the minutes it was really funny". I put my foot down and refused. In the meeting, no one quite believed what I was doing when they weren't watching me. The small things that kept everything moving. Keeping a spreadsheet updated. Pushing a button off and on each day. Checking for data entry errors. The majority of this work went to the grade-above guy. Finally, the day came. I left on a Friday. The following Monday I did my new commute to the new office, with new people and new work. I try not to look back, to get angry. But things keep bubbling up, so I thought I would write it all down here.

I have to recognise through all of this how lucky I was. Friends and family were there to support me. I had the resources to maintain my coping mechanisms. I caught the problem before it became an issue big enough to interfere with my work. I live in a time of the Internet that I could search for a phrase like "depression test" and find free resources. I live in a country with free healthcare, so saw doctors, pharmacists and therapists for no cost. That same country has subsidised medicine, so for the same cost (less then £9) as any other prescription, I got custom-made bottles with enough liquid to last a month. I was given a medication that gave me no ill effects on the first try. Said medication didn't become ineffective while I was taking it. I had the support and energy to keep working and job hunt at the same time. Four and a half years of living in a house of cards where anything could have brought it all crashing down. And then where would I be? Maybe back on the dual carriageway, looking at the gap in the barrier. But I was lucky, and now I'm here.

I stopped taking the antidepressants six months into the new job. Aside from a little lightheadedness of withdrawal, nothing happened. No exhaustion. No sadness. No lack of appetite or inability to sleep. It was over. I don't like saying 'cured', and I can't say 'free', because in a sense I'll never be free. This happened to me. All of it. And I can't just forget it, pretend it didn't happen. For starters it's eleven years of my life, I can't sweep that under the rug. I guess what I can do is learn from it, and keep it as a warning. Know the red flags in case it happens again.

If you've read all of the above, thanks I guess. It's definitely the longest blog I've written to date, and will likely be the longest I ever write. It took several days to pull it all together. While the events are true to the best of my recollection, it is possible that I'm misremembering them, putting things in the wrong time or attributing to the wrong person. If you or someone you know is experiencing depression, and don't have a good societal infrastructure to go to for help, I recommend talking to friends, family or colleagues. There's the cliche of the person that attempts suicide and survives, then the self harm being labelled 'a cry for help'. Don't let it get that far. Be open with your feelings, and encourage others to do likewise. In the end, it's okay to admit that you're not okay.

#mental health #working life #bad job

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minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong · 6 years ago

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Sweet Dreams Chapter Two

Lucid dreaming: The process of being aware that one is dreaming. Some researchers believe that in lucid dreaming, the individual may be able to change the outcome of the dream or control their degree of participation in the imaginary (dream) environment.

Description: Lee Eunbyul has been plagued with hellish nightmares since she was a child. Not the sort of nightmares you may be familiar with. There are no monsters to evade, no serial killers to outrun, no auditoriums of classmates in front of whom to stand naked. Instead there is just…darkness. Endless darkness. With professional help, the dreams come less frequently. But after moving away from home to live with her sister, Eunbyul’s nightmare returns, only this time it’s different. This time…she’s not alone.

What would you do if you had the chance to change the outcome of not only your dreams, but your life?

Genre: Romance, Drama, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn

Pairing: Namjoon x (f) OC

Word Count: 7.3k

Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Producer!Namjoon, Bookstore Clerk!Seokjin, Potter!Jimin, Producer!Yoongi, Dancer!Hoseok

Warnings: Frequent mentions of mental illness, infrequent swearing and mentions of alcohol

A/N: Hello! I’m trying out links for this chapter to see if Tumblr eats it, since I don’t know if links are working now. But anyway, here’s chapter two! Thank you guys for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please don’t be shy and send feedback, critique, questions, theories, and comments my way. I’ll be sure to respond to all asks I receive within a day of receiving them!

And again, if you want to follow my Twitter, my username is @/plzpunchmebts. I’m super active over there and hopefully in the future I’ll do some livestreams/chats with you all!

- Mercury

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Weekly updates: Sunday, 1PM (PST)

Namjoon

I rubbed my eyes as the breaking morning light filtered in through the swaying curtains beside my bed. Sighing, I pushed myself up onto my forearms, then onto my legs, then onto my feet. I padded over to the window, stifling a yawn, and grabbed the frame. I’d left the thing open all night, having fallen asleep too suddenly to remember to close it properly, and now mosquitos flew in lopsided circles around my lamp. Also left on overnight. I groaned and pulled the window shut, shooing the mosquitos with squinted eyes. I checked the clock on my black wall. 4:03 AM.

Quietly, I followed the scent of coffee and sauntered out into the living room where Yoongi sat, legs crossed on the couch, flipping through a book on Greek mythology with one hand and holding a mug in the other.

“Morning,” I said, like every morning.

“Mm,” he replied, like every morning.

I suspected Yoongi hadn’t even bothered to go to sleep, and the purplish bags beneath his eyes didn’t help. The apartment was spotless as usual. Yoongi wasn’t one to let mess pile up, and I was grateful at least for that. What he lacked in socializing, he made up for in peace and cleanliness. I slipped along the cool wood floor and wandered into the kitchen, pouring myself a generous cup of coffee from the pot Yoongi had left on.

“Crazy dream?” asked Yoongi. I found the heart of his question in the words he didn’t say. You never wake up before noon. You okay?

I hummed and settled down at the table, running my finger along the polished trim. Everything in this apartment was pristine, lined with precision and placed with care. That’s how Yoongi was. Even before we met at his studio, he struck me as the diligent type.

I guess I felt like I could learn something from someone like him.

With a sigh I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t remember.”

“Hm,” said Yoongi with a gruff cough, pausing to flip the page in his book.

And that was that. With a few words exchanged between us, I was left to watch the morning sun arc across the blemishes sky outside the wall of windows facing the ocean. I was left to think.

Sometimes I wished he was more talkative…

The bus rattled down the sun-drenched street and I watched buildings pass by in silence. Normally, I’d have worn headphones but at Yoongi’s request, I’d left them behind so he could work on a beat at home. I rested my head against the window and shut my eyes with a heavy sigh. Why don’t you just talk to him? Those were the words replaying in my mind. Hoseok always was startlingly astute, in an oblivious sort of way. Of course, my friend of twenty years could say something so blasé like that without knowing what it meant for me. Tell him you wanna write music.

Just tell him.

A pang rang through the bus, signaling the approach of my stop, and I gathered my backpack and cell phone, standing with my hand on the rail overhead. “Ah, sorry,” I mumbled as an older woman stood beside me, stumbling with the unsteady stall of the bus.

She turned to me with a weathered smile and patted my arm. “Thank you,” she said, gently sliding down the aisle with both arms swung out as if she could fall over at any moment.

I watched her, uneasy, as she made her way to the exit. But as she exited, someone else entered and in their haste, they brushed a shoulder against the old woman’s chest, knocking her back slightly. I jumped, rushing to catch up to her, as she grabbed hold of the rail beside the exit. I placed a hand on her forearm to steady her, and again she offered a smile.

“Hey,” I shouted, turning to see the perpetrator was staring at the scene, eyes covered with a ball cap, short, curling black hair sprouting from underneath.

Upon closer inspection, the hapless bus-rider was a young girl, although with her face downturned it was hard to tell much about her beside her unimposing height. I scanned her from head to toe. Narrow shoulders, drowning in a shirt three sizes too big, shorts just barely visible underneath the hem, tanned legs and dirty tennis shoes. But my eyes lingered on her hands. Small, balled into fists, her index fingers were digging into the skin of her thumbs, picking as she stared at the old woman in the exit.

“I-,” she began, and her voice was almost too soft to hear over the engine.

“You gonna pay?” asked the bus driver, eyeing her impatiently.

The girl jumped and turned to him, swiping her pass and shuffling with her shoulders pinched and her head down until she found an empty spot. The spot I’d taken before. I sighed and stepped down toward the woman, offering my arm to help her out onto the street.

“Oh thank you, son,” she said once the both of us were safely on the sidewalk.

Sparing no time, the bus sped off down the road. I watched it for half a second before returning my attention to the woman with a smile. “Don’t worry about it,” I said, bowing. “Sorry about that,” I added, and I wasn’t sure why I apologized for that stranger. It wasn’t my apology to make, anyway.

She shook her head. “No, that’s alright,” she said with a simple smile before turning on her heel and waving goodbye. “Take care, sweetheart!”

I returned the smile along with the wave, but something wasn’t sitting quite right with me. As I turned on my heel towards the studio a block down, it hit me.

That girl on the bus was oddly familiar.

“How’s the project coming along?” asked Jisoo as he stood over my shoulder, gazing at the monitor with his specs sliding down the bridge of his nose.

I cleared my throat and nodded. “It’s good. The music will be automatically triggered when the player walks past this line, so I made sure to line it up properly,” I said, pointing with an index finger at the screen.

Sound design in video games was laborious work, and even more so when the sound is music. Footsteps, fighting noises, slashing sounds: those could be left to the programmers without a second thought. But music? That was the sort of thing that had to be implemented by somebody who understood dramatic tension, timing, placement. Of course, should the programmers decide they don’t need the help of an indie commercial freelance company for their music design, they could probably do a great job. But contracting us was a convenient way to take nonessential work and pass it to someone qualified to handle it.

In my case, overqualified.

“Good,” said Jisoo, but it was clear he was only half-listening as he stirred his coffee with a grimace. “That scene gonna be ready by tomorrow?”

“I mean…,” I began. It was the first I’d heard of such a short deadline. Quietly, I settled my nerves and met Jisoo’s eyes through the glare of his glasses. “Sure,” I said, reluctant.

His face split in a smile, wrinkles around his lips deepening as he ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Great,” he said, patting my shoulder once. “We’re counting on you, Joon.”

Joon.

I swallowed hard and cleared my throat, turning back to my computer with a tense smile. “I’ll get to it then,” I said as he gave me a thumbs up and meandered down the hallway, out of my tiny, shared office.

I sighed, resting my cheek in my hand, and stared at the screen. Tiny characters idled in a wide, green field, awaiting my command to test if I’d placed the song correctly. I already knew I had. Of course, I should have been grateful to have a job in the first place. Albeit unfulfilling, the work gave me a steady income and despite the well of disappointment in my chest whenever Yoongi left to work in his own studio with real musical artists, I shouldn’t have been sighing all the time.

“Yikes,” said Jungkook from beside me, a young programmer who’d snagged the job at our company straight out of college.

He eyed me from his desk, only feet away from mine, and pushed his headphones back to rest against his collarbone. He was still a kid, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to work on games for the rest of his life. Really, working with a producing company was probably the best option for him. And every day you could see it in the way he moved that he was passionate. His round, inquisitive eyes were always landing on something new on his monitor, nimble fingers always typing away.

I doubted the kid had ever been apathetic about anything in his life.

“Yeah,” I breathed, glancing out the window to my right. Fresh sunlight poured in from outside. A fine day…

“You really gonna get it done in time?” he asked, refocusing on his screen as he popped a convenience store sausage in his mouth. He chewed on it, never looking away from the monitor, eyes alight.

I shrugged and leaned back in my chair. “Guess I gotta,” I said, still watching the day. In the distance, just below the horizon, I watched the train tracks as the afternoon train chugged by, windows glinting in the light. “It’s a crime to be inside on a day like this, though,” I remarked with a sigh.

Jungkook chuckled. “That’s what old people say,” he said, still munching.

I rolled my eyes and propped my headphones back up against my ears. “Everyone seems old to you,” I said. “Because you’re still a baby.”

Jungkook furrowed his brow and shot me a petulant look. “I’m a grown man.”

I chuckled and nodded, waving my hand to dismiss him. “Sure thing, big guy,” I said, continuing to set the music trigger just so.

The evening sun had long descended by the time my feet hit the pavement outside, and my hands and mind were exhausted. I wrung my wrists a little as I sighed into the nighttime air. The city was quiet, quieter than Seoul at any rate, and as I meandered toward the bus stop the simple sound of my cell phone ringing had me jumping. I fumbled with the phone for a moment as I fished it from my back pocket and slowly peered down at it.

Hani, displayed the screen and I raised my brows.

“Hello?” I asked as a white hatchback sped past, kicking up dirt on the street.

“Joonie,” she whined, and I could tell she was drunk. “I miss you.”

I gripped the bridge of my nose and nodded once, shutting my eyes against the yellow glow of the streetlamp overhead. “Uh-huh…”

“Come get me?”

I felt my chest constrict just a little. My mistake for answering in the first place. My mistake like always. “Where are you?” I asked carefully.

She mumbled something, words slurring together, before returning her attention to our phone call. “I’m at that bar by the beach. The pretty one.”

I knew the one. Sighing, I nodded. “Be there in ten,” I said, not awaiting a response as I pocketed the phone and began jogging down an alleyway, following a straight path to the shoreline.

Hani was right about one thing, anyway. The bar was pretty. In the summertime, when the air is fine and the clouds don’t linger too long, the beachside bar opens its windowed doors and extends its seating to the patio, right along the sand. The entrance was nestled deep beneath a canopy of light, sun-bleached wood beams and curling greenery, twinkling lights glowing on strings that wrapped around the entire patio.

Didn’t need to be a genius to know where she was. Quietly, I maneuvered around dancing bar patrons milling about in the gaps between tables and lounge chairs and made my way inside. The interior was dark. Not my style, really. But Hani always liked it here, which meant I spent plenty of drunk nights here. I approached the bar on the far wall and that was when I saw her.

Back on display from the low cut of her black dress, her brown hair waved over one slender shoulder and I saw her smile in profile. Perfect teeth, full cheeks rosy with alcohol and youth, eyes half-shut as she slapped a man’s arm. Gently, I approached her from behind and placed a hand on the small of her back, creating a wall between her and the man beside her. Her bright eyes landed on me and her smile went wider. She laughed, a loud, reverberating sound that pierced my ears even over the bumping music. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around my shoulders and held tight, standing to her feet.

“You’re smashed,” I remarked as I smelled the alcohol on her breath.

She giggled, running her fingers along the skin of my neck. “Hm…,” she mumbled, eyes shut as she swayed in front of me. “Let’s go walk on the beach.”

I placed my hands on her upper arms and guided her hands back to her sides, fixing her with a pointed look. “No, Hani we’ve gotta get you home-,”

“I wanna walk!” she shouted, the famous Hani pout on her ruby lips.

I swallowed hard. “No-,”

“I’m walking with or without you.”

And with that, she swung around in a grand circle and, with crossed arms, stomped across the bar and onto the patio where she paused, back still turned, and waited for me. Of course, she didn’t mean it. She just wanted me to go with her. And she knew how to bend me to her will. She always did.

I sighed, pressing my index fingers firmly against my temples. I didn’t need this today. Or any day, really. But as I opened my eyes I saw her peering at me over the slope of her shoulder and was powerless once again. Wordlessly, I rolled my eyes and followed behind her as she giggled and led the way out onto the sand.

It only took her a few steps to remove her strappy heels and fan her long hair out behind her with a huff. “Too hot,” she mumbled, adjusting the strap of her silk dress. “I’d go naked if I thought you wouldn’t hate me for it,” she teased with a glance my way and a cheeky grin.

“I wouldn’t hate you for something you did while you were drunk,” I said, crossing my arms as I matched her slow, stumbling pace.

The beach was serene, only a few people wandering through the sand. We walked parallel to the crashing, navy blue waves and each step took us further and further from the businesses lining the north side of the beach. We were getting close. Just around that cliffside, if we clung to the rocks, we’d emerge on the other side. All alone there.

“Joon?” she asked, staring up at me with round eyes.

“Hm?”

“Did you hear anything I said?” she asked, furrowing her dark brow.

I clamped my mouth shut and let my eyes fall to my feet on the sand. “I…sorry,” I said with a sigh.

“We’re almost there, aren’t we?” she asked with a nod. “I’ll forgive you this time because we’re almost there.”

I inhaled sharply through my nose and turned my eyes toward her. She was bathed in silver moonlight, fair skin glowing. Beautiful. “Why were you out drinking?”

“Am I not allowed?” she asked with a smirk.

I sighed. “It’s a weekday, Hani.”

“And I don’t have work tomorrow so what’s the harm?” She groaned and shook out her hands with a disgruntled huff. “You’re so stiff. This is why I broke up with you.”

There it was. “Hani, you need to go home.”

“And you never fight back,” she mumbled. “Making me the bad guy for saying anything in the first place.” She examined her hand for a moment, pouting.

“I don’t think it’s good for us to keep seeing each other,” I said carefully, choosing my words with care. I watched her expression go from sulky to petulant in a blink. She turned to me, eyes sharp. “It’s not healthy.”

She scoffed. “Why not?” she asked. “We were friends before we started dating, weren’t we? Why can’t we be friends now?”

“Because I don’t see you as just a friend and I think you know that,” I said, scanning her.

She opened and closed her mouth like a hinge before settling on closed and turning her head toward the shoreline. She stopped walking, crossed her arms, and watched the water for a long, silent moment.

“They’re finalizing it,” she said quietly as her eyes went distant. “My parents.”

I blinked at her. “They’re…really?”

She nodded. “That’s why I’m out tonight,” she said, voice soft against the water. “Mom called this morning and told me. Like it was nothing for her.”

“Hani…”

“Like it’s easy,” she said, wiping beneath her eyes with her free hand. “I texted Sooyoung but she didn’t reply. She saw it though. Just…didn’t reply.”

Gently, I came to rest beside her. I thought about wrapping an arm around her small, trembling shoulders and holding her close. But the intoxicating scent of her rosy perfume even from this distance was enough to keep that idea at bay. Instead, I simply rested my palm against her back and gave her a pat.

“I’m worried Sooyoung is gonna start up again,” she said with a sigh as she scratched her nose. “Like she did last year. I dunno…a divorce is a big deal for someone her age. She’s sixteen now, you know? Did I tell you that?” she asked, peeking up at me with glassy eyes.

“I know, Hani,” I said, smoothing my palm against her back.

She sniffled and nodded. “Yeah.” She sighed. “I don’t want her to be stupid like me.”

“You’re not stupid,” I said softly, shaking my head.

She smiled, but it wasn’t all there. “You don’t have to lie. I make stupid choices. Like tonight. Calling you. I just…I want her to grow up without making the mistakes I made, you know? I don’t want her to be twenty-four, drunk, crying on the beach with her ex-boyfriend.” She shook her head. “Or worse.”

“Stop thinking about all that, okay?” I said, patting her back once more before dropping my hand. “You need to get home.”

She eyed me sidelong, long eyelashes stained white against the moonlight. She was calmer now, more reasonable. Softly, she sighed and nodded her head. “Okay,” she said.

I nodded and turned back toward the bar, but I’d only taken one step when I felt her small hands wrap around my sides, clasping at my stomach. She rested her cheek against my back and my whole body went stiff. I felt her chest against me, her arms firm around my torso. And just like that, she held onto me. Like a life preserver, keeping her afloat. And it might have felt nice if it wasn’t so cruel.

“Thank you, Joonie,” she said softly against my back.

I cleared my throat and patted the top of her hand. “Let’s…let’s get you home.”

Hani: Thanks for everything tonight, Joonie.

I stared at my phone screen, holding it right above my face as I lie on my back in bed. I sighed and let my felt hand fall against the comforter, squinting at the phone. The message sat like an omen before me, like the promise of something I didn’t dare to hope for. I knew better than to respond. I knew better than to answer her call in the first place. I knew better than to meet her for coffee or dinner or movies after we ended. I knew better than to respond.

Namjoon: Of course. You know I still care about you.

Hani: I know. I care about you too :-)

I felt my chest constrict. How stupid. I slid my phone to rest on my nightstand and caught the time out the corner of my eye. 11:15. I had to be up early tomorrow to work on the game. Really, I should have been asleep an hour ago.

And here I was. Still stuck where I’ve always been.

I shook my head, giving my chest a few hard pats. If I thought about it too long, I’d end up moping. Instead, I simply stayed there, resting against the plush of my pillow, staring up at the ceiling until my heavy eyelids drifted shut and my breaths came more slowly.

Huh. I glanced around the depthless blackness and blinked a few times. Lucid dreaming again? I furrowed my brow and gave my jaw a scratch. Well, Hani hugging me probably did something weird to my brain. I stretched my torso this way and that, cracked my knuckles.

“Good timing,” I said to myself as I took a sweeping look around. “What’ll it be tonight?” A smile crept across my lips as I rubbed my palms together.

“Namjoon?”

I jumped, a scream escaping me from someplace deep in my chest, and whipped around in a half-circle towards the source of the voice. And that’s when I saw her. My eyes went wide, gaping, as the memories came flooding back in a wave that nearly bowled me over.

Standing in a baggy sleep shirt and too-big patterned pajama pants was the girl from the night before. Eunbyul. Her hair was a mess of black curls waving around her chin, furrowing her strong brow at me. Like the night before, she possessed a sad, quiet kind of charm. With slightly downturned eyes and clothes that looked like they might swallow her whole, she was the sort of person you wanted to take care of. The kind of person you worried didn't take care of themselves.

She pushed round-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose with a sniff and gave me a squint, face flushed. Had she been crying again? Was she scared again? She remembered my name, but did she remember everything else?

Suddenly, my heart was racing and so was my head and anxious questions began swirling around my mind, impossible to ignore. But when I spoke, none of them came out. Instead-

“You’re here again,” I said, unable to stop myself.

She blinked at me and for a long moment, we simply locked eyes. Neither said anything, perhaps both of us being too wary of the other to speak. But after an endless silence, she cracked a crooked smile, revealing bright teeth and a pleasant pinch in the apples of her cheeks.

She chuckled, rubbing the bare back of her neck. “Ah, uh…yeah. I guess,” she said, voice soft. She had a peculiar sort of voice, breathy, almost uncertain. I was certain I’d recognize it anywhere.

I opened and closed my jaw a few times, struggling for words, before simply settling for a laugh. “Well, uh…hi,” I said with a smile.

She returned it, albeit hesitantly. She crossed her arms over her torso and her eye went hazy with thought. “Say, did you remember the dream from last night?” she asked, brows knit as she met my eyes once more.

I shook my head. “Not until I saw you.”

She set her lips thin and fixed me with a serious upward glance. “Same here.”

“Huh…”

She paced around in the dark for a moment, mouth pursed in thought, pausing every few paces to adjust her glasses. “I wonder why…”

I chuckled. “Well,” I began, taking up the space beside her and matching her pace, stride for stride, “the memory is unreliable. Some people can’t remember their dreams at all unless they write them down right away.”

She halted her pacing and crossed her arms, looking up at me. “This feels different though, doesn’t it? Like…I don’t know, like the memory of the dream just got wiped completely.”

“If you’re gonna keep getting hung up on all the details that don’t make sense, you’re gonna be here all night,” I said, then laughed. “No pun intended.”

She scoffed. “How can you be so blasé about all this? Aren’t you…freaked out?” she asked, voice getting quieter as she lost her steam.

I shrugged. “None of this adds up anyway. So why not just enjoy it?” I asked, cocking a brow with a smile.

“It’s…it’s not that easy, you know,” she said, then sighed. “You’re…I guess you’re more adaptable than me.”

I paused a moment, scanning her. Her somber eyes were set on the nothing beneath her bare feet, arms wrapped around her torso like she was holding herself together at the seams. I swallowed hard and thought for a moment, focusing hard on a memory.

When I opened my eyes we were standing in the middle of an empty footpath, blooming trees and bushes creating a blanket that stretched on before us. Vibrant pinks, oranges, and yellows dotted the foliage that sloped downhill before us, like a mural. Down the path, a pond and a few traditional buildings. The sun was tempered by gently rolling clouds, and the sky felt limitless overhead.

And there were no people besides us.

After all, my brain couldn’t conjure all the faces I saw that day.

She blinked at the scenery around her, wind rustling through the trees, caressing the baby hairs along her temples. Her eyes went wide, lips forming an O, and her hands fell to her sides as she whirled around a few times, looking at the view from all angles.

“What-,” she began, then looked back at me, wild. “Namjoon, what’s all this?”

I smiled and stretched my arms out wide, embracing the abundance around me. “The Garden of Morning Calm,” I said. “I came here when I was a kid. Back when I lived in Sangdo-dong.”

“You lived there too?” she asked, brows high.

I nodded, taking a few easy steps down the path. She jogged to reach me, still staring up at me, imploring. “Yeah, when I was young. Anyway…I just…,” I began, feeling sheepish under her disarming gaze. I glanced away, toward the horizon line, and cleared my throat. “This place makes me feel calm, so I figured maybe it would do the same for you.”

She slowed down a little, watching me from behind for a moment before catching up once again. She stumbled a little over her pajama bottoms. “I-it does,” she said, catching herself before she tripped. She kept her eyes down, watching her feet carefully, as she found her pace beside me. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” I said with a sigh. “I know I must seem…kinda nonchalant about all this but….” I shrugged and took a deep breath of the fresh, autumn air. “I dunno. This place…it’s pretty incredible.”

“Funny,” she said with a soft chuckle. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve been terrified of this dream but…you’ve been enjoying it, huh?”

I smiled. “It’s like a little vacation from life, I guess,” I said, and I almost regretted it. Way to go, I thought with a cringe, saying something sad like that to a stranger…

But to my relief, she simply offered a pensive hum and a nod. “I never thought of it that way.”

I blinked at her, silhouetted against the fall foliage and vibrant sun, and saw in her expression nothing but a pensive quietude. Like I could have said anything she she wouldn’t have thought I was strange. I felt my cheeks warm a little, and cleared my throat.

“Up here is a gazebo,” I said, pointing up ahead.

She squinted down the path and smiled softly. “Nice,” she said.

I chuckled. “Those glasses…you weren’t wearing them last night,” I said, reaching out to guide them up her nose again. “The nose pads are too far apart.”

She jumped a little at my touch before settling and squaring a look at me. “Well, they’re old,” she said with a little purse of her lips, crossing her arms as we neared the gazebo. “I didn’t want to be a bother when I got them fitted, so I just said they were fine.”

She led the way inside, ducking her head just a little as she crossed the three-stepped threshold into the structure. Crawling greenery stretched out across the exterior, and some of the vines reached through the cracks in the ceiling, but it felt nice in the shade. Gently, she took a seat and exhaled, patting the tops of her pajamaed thighs. She glanced up at me as I stood in the center of the rounded room and raised her brows.

“You gonna sit?” she asked, taking a peek at the space beside her on the dark wood bench.

“Ah…sure.” I quickly joined her, aware of the slightly awkward space between us. Despite being in this dream together, we were strangers after all. What could we really talk about?

“I had an appointment today in Sangdo-dong,” she began, watching her bare toes. “With my therapist.”

“Therapist?” I asked, then shook my head. “Sorry, didn’t mean to pry.”

She chuckled. “Not like either of us will remember this in the morning anyway,” she said with a shrug. “But…yeah, a therapist.”

I inhaled fresh air and sighed slowly. I knew I shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t pry, but she was right anyway. What’s the use in holding back in a situation like this? “What for?”

“Anxiety,” she said with a sigh. “Since I was young. Before the dreams even.”

“Ah,” I said, nodding. I eyed her, careful not to say something insensitive, and saw again that thoughtful, distant look. “How did it go?”

“Not well.”

“Oh…”

“I told him I’ve been struggling trying to figure things out, and he told me I needed to spend more time thinking on it,” she said with a scoff. “Imagine that. Thinking more about something I think about all day.”

“What’re you struggling with?” I asked, and regretted it right after. Too far, definitely. She’d fix me with a glare and we wouldn’t speak anymore. She’d be rightfully put off.

“Trying to find something that makes me feel like a person,” she said with a single nod.

And with that, my heart rate slowed. Such a simple sentence, but it packed a punch. “I understand that,” I said.

She glanced at me. “How?”

“Well…sometimes it’s easy to get swept up in the swing of surviving and forget what it is that makes you feel alive,” I said, and against my will my mind returned to the beach last night, staring at the slope of Hani’s shoulder, her eyes glittering. I cleared my throat and leaned back.

She smiled. “Seems like you need to talk more than I do,” she said, raising her brows.

I swallowed hard and focused on my clasped hands. “Just…someone from my past.”

“You don’t have to be vague with me,” she said with a laugh. “Like I said, I won’t remember anyway.” She seemed…lighter tonight than she had before. Almost like something bobbing in the water, coming up for air and staying there, suspended.

“My ex,” I said, sighing. “She’s…she’s difficult.”

Eunbyul raised her brows. “You fighting?”

I smiled. “No, no. Nothing like that, just…we can’t seem to get a clean break, you know? Like…we can’t move on from being around each other. Even though it’s unhealthy,” I said, then shook my head. “I’m sure you get it.”

“I don’t,” she said, stretching her torso this way and that before settling and meeting my eyes, innocent. I furrowed my brow, and she maintained her gaze. “I’ve never dated.”

“Huh?” I asked, surprised.

She laughed. “I don’t really know how to interact with people,” she said with a nod. “Or maybe…I can interact if there’s no pressure. Like right now. If I don’t feel like I’m in the way or being a burden.” She waved her hands. “Anyway, tell me more so I can understand.”

I blinked at her, at the round, flushed apples of her cheeks, the flashing whites of her eyes as she turned her head to look at the trees swaying before us. “Um…,” I began, thinking. “Well…we’ve been friends for a long time. So breaking up was tricky, you know? What was our relationship supposed to be from then on? Did we go back to friends? Did we cut ties? Did we slowly distance ourselves?”

“Ah,” she said, nodding. “I see.”

“I think…for me, the healthiest option is to completely remove her from my life, you know? It’s no good for me to keep spending time with her.” I wrung my hands a little and sighed. “I can’t figure out where the boundaries are anymore.”

“Have you talked to her about it?” asked Eunbyul, poking her big toe against the wood floorboard.

“I…kinda.”

“Kinda isn’t really good enough,” she said, still poking, eyes transfixed on her foot, hands gripping the bench seat. “In relationships, you have to be explicit to avoid misunderstandings. Communication is the most important thing,” she said, then chuckled. “Although I’m not the authority on all that.” She paused her poking and met my eyes with a gentle, knowing smile. “If you don’t know where the boundaries are, you gotta place them yourself.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but my thoughts evaded me the longer she looked up at me, strands of waving hair falling behind her glasses, touching the tops of her eyes. It looked like she expected something from me. Not a response or a reaction, not really anything like that.

It seemed like all she expected was for me to understand her.

I nodded. “That’s…shockingly astute,” I said with a laugh, rubbing my jaw as I finally broke the tense eye contact.

She smiled and leaned back against the bench. “I wanna try showing you something,” she said, standing to her feet and padding gently toward the center of the gazebo. She turned to me. “Just…try to see it in my head?”

“See it, feel it, hear it, smell it,” I said, then smirked. “Taste it, if you can.”

She laughed and nodded. “I’ll…I’ll try tasting it then,” she said as she shut her eyes tight.

For a moment, nothing changed. Just the same gazebo, the same scent of damp wood and crisp air, the same sunlight stretching in shafts between branches. But after a few moments, I saw something on the horizon. The sky was bleeding from cerulean to navy blue, stretching slowly overhead. The scenery went fuzzy before disappearing entirely and emerging again, morphed. The geological features began to sharpen as Eunbyul simply stood there, eyes shut, a charming wrinkle between her brows as she concentrated. And, before I knew it, I was standing in the middle of a desert I didn’t recognize, midnight sky above and orange sand underfoot. I scanned the area and saw open space in every direction, rock stacks eroded over time standing erect around the horizon. In the sky was a portrait of stars, so many I couldn’t possibly count them, and small shrubby bushes punctured the iron-red ground as it extended endlessly.

Eunbyul opened her eyes and, without sparing a single moment, broke into an infectious grin that pulled her eyes nearly shut and exposed her canines. She turned around a few times before laughing and clapping her hands. “No way!” she exclaimed, and her voice echoed through the canyon.

I smiled. “What’s this place?” I asked.

She turned to me with a wild, breathless smile and I felt my heart kick up. Just a little. A warm desert wind swept through the valley and kicked up dust, playing with the ends of her dark hair. “I went camping once on a vacation to the US. With my family. This was my favorite night. Nobody around, just us,” she said with a nod, bending her neck so she could stare right at the sky. She pointed. “See all the constellations?”

I raised my brows and glanced up with her. Indeed, it seemed the stars, although innumerable, were positioned perfectly. I recognized the Big Dipper, dangling in the sky like it was pouring stars onto black and blue canvas of sky.

“Do you know a lot about constellations?” I asked.

“Gaeul taught me on this trip,” she said, grinning, then snapped her fingers and pointed at me. “Sorry, Gaeul is my sister.” She was still smiling like mad, and her eyes were alight for the first time since we met.

I nodded. “Tell me something about them,” I said, smiling gently as I sat down on the dusty earth.

She joined me, holding her knees close to her chest, and pointed at the sky. “That’s Ursa Major,” she said, and I followed her eyes to the big dipper. “The ladle is just part of the bigger constellation, you know? It’s supposed to look like a bear.” She laughed, and the sound was soft, almost like an exhale. “In Roman myths, it’s all about Jupiter and Callisto and jealousy and turning into bears, but I like the Korean myth better.”

“What’s that?” I asked, dropping my eyes from the sky to her.

“There was a widow who had seven sons, and became fond of a widower across the river. Her sons wanted to help her cross the water, so they each put down a stone for her to walk across. The mother didn’t know her sons put the rocks in the water. But she was grateful so she blessed the stones and when her sons died, they became stars,” she said, smiling so softly it was barely there. Just a tilt of her lips.

I watched her as she spoke, barely lit by the moon and the stars, eyes aglow. It was familiar, like before with Hani. But this felt decidedly different. Everything was different.

If only I could remember it in the morning…

“That’s a beautiful story,” I said with a smile.

She turned to me and nodded. “I think so too,” she said, then sighed and gave my shoulder a pat. “You’re a good person, Namjoon. I can tell.”

I chuckled. “And you’re not as bad at socializing as you think you are.”

She smirked. “I told you,” she began, leaning back on her palms with a sigh. “Low stakes make it easy to say what you want without being scared.”

“I wonder why we keep ending up here together,” I pondered idly.

She smiled. “You’re the one who said not to get hung up on the details that don’t make sense,” she said, then turned her head to look at the stars again.

“You seem awfully easygoing,” I remarked with a laugh.

She grinned and her eyes went small again. “I see what you mean now,” she said, sighing. “About this being like a vacation from life.”

I watched her for a moment before I felt something tugging. Just like before. And, from the way her eyes got round and her shoulders pinched, I was pretty sure Eunbyul felt it too. We locked gazes, neither one saying anything, and struggling against the pull in my chest, I reached out my hand, extending it toward her.

She blinked at it before, wordlessly, she took it in both of hers and shook it up and down. “Until next time,” she said with a serious look my way.

I nodded, letting my hand fall against the dirt. “Until next time.”

I awoke with heart palpitations. Blinking rapidly, I rubbed my face and patted down the sweat that had begun to dot my forehead. I glanced toward the clock on the wall. 4:03 again. Grumbling, I turned over onto my stomach and smashed my face against the pillows, yanking my blankets over my head.

“Stupid brain,” I mumbled into the sheets, exhaling long and slow.

I tried to force myself back to sleep, tried to will my brain to power down like an old desktop computer. I rolled onto my side, curling my legs up toward my chest. When that didn’t work, I thumped over onto my back once more and spread my arms wide, like I was physically begging for the embrace of unconsciousness. Long seconds ticked by, marked with the sound of my clock, always ticking like a metronome.

“Ugh,” I groaned, sitting upright with a frown. I glanced around the room and saw my phone still sitting on the charger. If I wasn’t getting back to sleep, the least I could do to sate my hyperactive brain was scroll mindlessly through Twitter.

I grabbed for the phone and unlocked it, but before I could tap the little blue app icon, I noticed a new text message in the bottom corner of the screen. I raised my brows and opened it. Sent at 2:39 AM.

Hani: Call me please.

Panic.

I jumped up and sat on my knees, typing her number in by heart. I pressed the phone to my ear and listened with bated breath to the dial tone. It was taunting me, every painfully slow drone and the endless pauses between. I counted five rings before they stopped altogether and I was met with nothing but radio silence.

“Hani?” I asked, frantic, breathless.

She sniffled on the other end and I collapsed against my bed with relief. “Hey.”

“Jesus, what’s wrong?” I asked, words stumbling into one another like a clumsy line.

“Sorry, it’s just…,” she began, then sniffled again. “It’s Sooyoung.”

“Fuck, Hani, is she alright? Is she safe?” I asked, heart hammering.

“Yeah, yeah she’s fine,” she said. “God, I’m so sorry. I keep doing this.”

“Hani what happened?”

She paused a moment before taking a shaky breath in. “She called me drunk.”

I was silent, just listening to the arrhythmic pattern of her breath. “Hani…”

“It’s fine, I called my folks and they found her in the basement. But…fuck, I dunno I got, like, a glimpse into her future,” she said, then paused. “And it looks a lot like mine.”

“Hani, are you alright?” I asked carefully, resting against the pillows with furrowed brows. “Have you slept?”

“Can’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Joonie,” she said with a sigh. “I just…Joon, could I…could I maybe come over? Watch a movie or something?”

I stiffened. Bad idea. Horrible, terrible, really bad idea. Blurring more lines, crossing more barriers…at this rate, I’d be heartbroken until the day I died. It wasn’t like I was her only friend. She’d always been popular, and even when we were dating she’d go to Joohee before she’d ever go to me with a problem. Why now did it seem like she needed me so profoundly?

If you don’t know where the boundaries are, you gotta place them yourself.

I felt my stomach pang a little. Where had I heard that? Gently, I patted my chest in the hopes of settling my heart down. I knew what the right decision was. It was painfully obvious to anyone that I couldn’t let her come over, let her cross the threshold and reenter my intimate space. I knew the implications.

I sighed and braced myself, holding the phone close against my hot cheek. I shut my eyes, ran a hand through my unruly hair, and nodded my head. “Um…,” I began, opening my eyes only halfway to stare with disappointment at the clock across from my bed. “Yeah, Hani. Of course.”

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snarky-badger · 6 years ago

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Oooooo—an Ultron idea for you!! Reader works at a computer store, and recently stuff has been going missing. But there's never any alarms, and the cameras just keep malfunctioning for no reason. It's just a mystery, until one night she's closing and forgets something inside after locking up. Instead of having to turn everything on and back off again, she just uses her phone light except now it seems like a horror game, and suddenly she gets the feeling that she's not alone anymore.

I had fun with this one. Again, its open ended in case someone wants more.

Sorry for the day and a half of quiet from me. Been distracted.

There was nothing you hated more than getting blamed for something that wasn’t your fault.

For three weeks, after you closed up the Best Buy you worked at, things - laptops, processors, motherboards, various circuitry and parts - had gone missing. Of course, your boss blamed you, as you were the last one in the store. But there were cameras everywhere, and you’d been filmed multiple times, closing up shop and leaving without the stolen merchandise, so there was nothing he could do.

Still, it irritated you.

It wouldn’t happen at the same time, either. There was no pattern, no reason. There weren’t any parts showing up on eBay, or in pawn shops. And every time, the cameras showed nothing. Naturally, you’d thought that someone had merely looped the footage, but your boss, the supposed Mr. Know-It-All, had waved your idea aside.

You’d been tasked with putting extra security tags and stickers on every box, every computer, sometimes doubling up the tags - it was an insult, you usually worked at the Geek Squad desk - but you weren’t in a position to argue, so you did it. Honestly, you were doubtful that it was a walkout thief, the cameras and security scanners at the doors would have caught them.

You boss had even put chains on the loading dock doors and back doors every night, and it had been interesting to watch him fume in the morning when the chains were found neatly coiled up on the floor, the padlocks locks sitting atop them.

Honestly, everyone was baffled. You were mainly pissed, but what could you do? Nothing. That was what. Someone was getting in, and there seemed to be no way to stop them short of hiring a twenty-four-hour guard - but corporate wouldn’t spring for the extra money.

So things continued on like that for another two weeks, your boss almost having an aneurysm every morning and the employees taking bets on who was responsible - there was a rather large pot going on. The top guess was a ghost, of all things. Your money was on some hacker desperate for parts.

But you kept your nose clean, and away from your boss. Closed up every night, waving at the cameras, and then heading to catch your bus.

Until one night, you forgot your MP3 player in the office.

You cursed, lowly, and headed back inside, not bothering with the overhead lights as you used your phone’s flashlight option to guide the way. Passing through the isles to the back offices was eerie, like something out of a Doom game. You half expected to have something jump out at you as you stepped into the pitch black office, but nothing came.

Shaking your head at your own stupidity, you grabbed your MP3 from it’s spot next to the computer you’d been debugging and deleting porn viruses off of, then headed back out, locking the back door behind you - you didn’t dare leave it open, the safe for all the cash was back there. You’d never hear the end of it if that was stolen.

You were heading back to the main doors, cutting through the gaming isle, when something rustled in the rear of the store. The light from your phone illuminated about five feet of space around you as you spun towards the sound, your heart in your throat.

Fuck, was the thief already in the store? You couldn’t be sure over the sound of your breathing and heartbeat, but you thought you’d heard movement, footsteps.

Shit, now what? Run, and get fired for not protecting the store? Call the cops?

But if you called the cops and it was nothing, you’d be a laughing stock.

Well, fuck. You’d have to check it out.

You weren’t being paid enough for this shit.

Hands shaking, making the light from your phone wobble dizzyingly, you headed towards where you thought you’d heard the noise, biting your lip to stay quiet. Wove through the isles, trying to keep your footsteps silent. Which, you realized, was useless, considering you were holding a bright shining beacon telling everyone where you were.

Giving up on stealth, you quickened your pace to the back of the store, hoping to either surprise the thief or at least just hurry up and figure out what was going on so you could leave, please and thank you.

You turned the corner, leaving the camera isle and heading into the isle with the external hard drives and walked right into a wall.

Cursing, you stumbled backwards, tripping over your own feet and landing on your butt on the floor. Your phone clattered to the tiles, spinning, the light dazzling you for a moment. When it stopped, you looked up and gaped.

There was a giant metal man staring down at you with glowing red eyes.

Naturally, you screamed.

Abandoning your phone, you scrambled to your feet and ran. Got, maybe five feet away before darkness enveloped you and you slammed face first into a massive display of radio controlled cars.

You hit the floor, a car bouncing off your head, as you sprawled across it’s numerous brethren, and out the door went your decorum. “Son of a bitch! Fuck!”

Heavy footsteps approached you. You were too addled to move, especially when you reached up to pull yourself to your feet only to have the rest of the display topple onto you.

“Are you alright?”

The slightly metallic, yet rich, voice that came from the metal man towering over you made you blink. He was carrying your phone, angling the light so it wouldn’t blind you. “You’re the thief.” Oh yes, brilliant deduction Sherlock. Fucksakes. “The fuck, man! I keep getting shit over the stuff you take!”

Crimson eyes blinked down at you before a laugh rumbled out of him. “Ah. You’re the one that closes up the store. Wasn’t expecting you to come back in. I thought you’d gone for the night.”

The calm, conversational, tone of his voice threw you off. “Forgot my MP3,” you grimaced, wincing as you shoved toy cars off of yourself. “I’d call the cops on you but no one would believe me.”

“I’d rather you didn’t. I…. Well, there’s a reason I’m ransacking a Best Buy instead of stealing top of the line parts. What’s the saying? I’m trying to keep things on the down-low?”

You squinted up at him, blinking when he crouched down. Close up, you could see that he had a sort of red cloak on him, a feeble attempt at hiding his metal form. Tiny metal pieces, like an intricate puzzle, made up his amazingly expressive face, crimson eyes like camera lenses focusing on you. "What, not a fan of eBay?“

"That would require an address. Besides, seeing your reaction, it isn’t as if I can stroll into a Post Office and rent a mailbox.”

“It’ dark and you scared the crap out of me,” you snapped in your defense. “I was expecting some moron in a ski mask not Megatron’s mini-me.”

Another chuckle left him. “Can’t say I’ve ever been compared to a Transformer before.” He tilted his head at you curiously. “Do you need help getting up?”

“What I need–” you paused to kick at one of the boxed up toy cars that were scattered around you. “Is a drink. I hope to hell you already looped the cameras, because I don’t want this clusterfuck plastered all over the lunchroom.”

Those crimson eyes of his widened a little. “Well, well. And here I took you for a run of the mill retail worker.”

“I am and overqualified run of the mill retail worker. I’m just not as stupid as my boss. Or my co-workers. There’s a betting pool going on over you. Half the staff thinks this place is haunted.”

He laughed again. “Well, I could try skulking around.” He grasped the edges of his ‘cloak’ and held a bit over his face. “Phantom of the Best Buy? Though I think I’d have trouble trying to get an organ into the basement.”

You snickered. “We don’t have a basement.”

“Hence the trouble,” he straightened, rising to his full height, towering over you again, then held a hand out to you. “Here, up you get.”

You hesitated a moment, then took his hand, gasping when he lifted you up onto your feet as if you weighed nothing. The fingers around yours were warm, not cold like you’d expected for a man made out of metal, and you felt him give you a gentle squeeze before letting go.

“There we go. Nothing broken?”

“Nothing but my pride.” You sent a look at the scattered remains of the display. “I’ll clean that up in the morning. Y'know, if you need stuff in bulk, we got a shipment of parts in today. It’s still in the back.”

One metal brow arched upwards. “Aiding and abetting a criminal now?”

You shrugged. “What the hell do I care? Boss’ll just blame me for it anyway and make my life hell whether you take it or not. Sides’ I figure that if someone as advanced as you obviously are is stealing from a Best Buy that you’re kinda desperate, so go for it.”

“Advanced?”

“I figured that calling you a robot might be rude. It’s the best I could come up with.”

“Ah. Well, thank for that then. Being called a 'robot’ is a rather touchy subject.”

“Hence the vagueness. You have a name or….?”

He shifted a little. “If you don’t know who I am, then it’s probably best that I don’t tell you.”

“You realize that I’ll just start googling 'giant technologically advanced metal man’ as soon as I get home, right?”

A very human sigh left him. “That’s not a good idea. Not unless you want SHEILD and the Avengers banging on your door.”

“Fucksakes. You’re big time, aren’t you? Fine, fine. I’ll drop it.” You ran a nervous hand through your hair, then blinked when something occurred to you. “Y'know, you’d be better off ransacking the warehouse the next town over. It’s one of the main shipping centers for all the stores in the region. Loads of merch there compared to the low stock here. Probably save you a few trips.”

He blinked. “That wasn’t listed on the directory I found on the servers.”

“Wouldn’t be. It’s just a warehouse, not a store.”

“Hm. And you’re alright with this? Most people wouldn’t be helping me.”

“I prefer to think of myself as different than 'most people’. Also, I get paid minimum wage, no benefits and my boss is an asshole. My loyalty to this place vanished about three months ago when they denied my sick leave because I wasn’t full-time.”

A disgusted noise left him. “It’s deplorable how this country treats it’s retail workers.”

“You have no idea. Speaking of, I’m going to be late to my other job. Gonna need my phone back.”

He eyed you a little warily. “No photos.”

“Pfft. As if I expect you to hold still long enough for a shot. Also, you could probably drop-kick me across the store, and I’m not a good flyer.” You made a little 'gimme’ gesture with your left hand, smiling a little when your phone was deposited into your palm. “Thanks.”

He watched you quietly as you checked it enough to insure that you hadn’t broken it when you’d dropped it earlier. “It still works, don’t worry.”

“It hit the floor. I worry.” Deeming it alive and well, you tilted it so the flashlight would still illuminate your odd companion without blinding either of you. “I need to go. Remember, all the good stock is in the back.”

“…Thank you.”

“Welcome.” You turned to leave, pausing when a large hand landed on your shoulder.

“Wait.” He sounded hesitant, and he was watching you again. “I have a crazy idea.”

“Does it involve me getting arrested for property theft?” you asked with a raised eyebrow. “Because I’m not really into vertical bars and I hate the colour orange.”

“Trust me, I can keep you safe. How would you like a job?”

“…a what?”

“You’re on the Geek Squad, right? I cross referenced your name with the employee roster. So you have at least a basic knowledge of computers and operating systems.”

You had no idea where he was heading. “Yeah?”

“I need another set of hands to help gather some supplies. Someone smart enough to be able to build a computer from scratch. And maybe a little help searching through that warehouse.”

That implications of that made you hesitate. You may have been lax about a giant metal man stealing from your workplace, but becoming a thief yourself… that was something completely different. “Why would you need me to help you build something? I mean, hell, look at you. You don’t need me to put a system together. If you can hack into the servers, you sure as hell are more than capable of dealing with some hardware.”

“True. But at the moment, I’m still just one person. I can only be in one place at a time. Which is… irking, trust me.”

“…can I give it some thought?”

He looked surprised that you were even going to consider it. “Of course. Here, pass me your phone for a moment.”

You did so, watching as he pulled a cord out from his left forearm, connecting it to your phone. The screen flickered a little, and you worried, before he hummed in satisfaction and disconnected from it again. “I upgraded your security and added a new app. You can contact me with it when you come to a decision.”

Blinking, you accepted your phone back again. “What kind of security?”

“Ah. The untraceable, unhackable kind. Don’t want just anyone contacting me, after all.”

A smirk tugged at your lips. “Telemarketers?”

“Telemarketers. Trying to convince me that my computer needs servicing.”

The dry, unimpressed, tone of his voice and the absurdity made you laugh. “Yeah, okay, you win the 'most annoying telemarketer’ award. Tell them you don’t have a computer, it makes them go nuts. Alternatively, tell them you’re from IT and you intercepted their call due to a problem, get them to confirm the type of phone they’re on , then google the reset setting and get them to follow the instructions. It’ll fuck up their phone for a week.”

That pulled an actual belly laugh from your odd companion, and you grinned when he mimed wiping a tear from his eyes. “Oh, that’s cruel. I love it. I’ll try that next time.”

“It’s highly entertaining on a petty level,” you grinned, waving a little as you turned to leave. “I’ll call you in a couple of days. I just need a bit of time to wrap my brain the insanity of this situation.”

He chuckled again. “Take your time.”

“See you around, Mr. Thief.” You left him behind as you headed for the front of the store, going through your interrupted custom of locking up the store. It was only when you were waiting at the bus stop for your ride to your next job that you took a good look at your phone blinking at the new icon that had joined the others, your brain power screeching to a stop at the name of it.

Jesus wept.

“ULTRON?!”

#snarky is writing #ultron #ultron x reader #reader x ultron #filled prompt

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wenevergotusedtoegypt · 6 years ago

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Feeling discouraged about work.

Part of the restructuring that was announced today involves a coworker getting what essentially amounts to a promotion. As the head of a newly created department, he’ll be in charge of the event that he completely botched in April/May (which would have been much worse had I not forced my way into the project despite pushback from him), as well as several others he will also botch (because he’s botched most things in his current position too). He will now be supervising a coworker I like and feel is highly competent, and I predict she’ll leave within the year as a result. The project from earlier this year is like...one of the few things I still liked about my job, and because he doesn’t like me, I assume he’ll find a way to take me off it next year (and if he doesn’t, it will probably be miserable since I’ll have little recourse when he screws things up with him being at the head of it all).

This guy has been awful since day 1 (he’s been at the organization a little shorter than I have), but the previous head of the organization had a soft spot for him and so he always got away with everything, even though it’s near-universally acknowledged that he’s lazy and incompetent. I had gotten the sense that the new head saw through him, but apparently that’s not the case given this move. I knew he was going to be shifting to a new position, but I had assumed he would be shuffled off to the side somewhere he could do less damage, not raised up and put in charge of davka a project he recently massively screwed up!

(And it’s not just my personal bias against this guy talking here - my boss said behind closed doors, and I quote, “I predict that department is going to be a triple homicide” given the people who have been put in it.)

Another person who got a big promotion is not as awful as him, but is being given exponentially more responsibility than she has now and she...doesn’t really manage her current position properly as it is. The department she currently runs has allowed tens of thousands of dollars not to be paid by clients just in the past year because she hasn’t bothered to put someone in charge of tracking it down. Like...??? Her department is also always super disorganized and last minute, and she once referred to an email I wrote her as the “rudest email she’d ever received” to my boss because I politely requested that they try to think ahead after making several extremely last minute requests in a short time.

And another person, who routinely ignores organizational policy and hardly knows how to use a computer despite this being required by her job, was elevated to a senior staff position (though her duties aren’t really affected).

Overall the STRUCTURAL changes that are being put into place make a lot of sense to me, but the personnel decisions are nonsensical. I had a lot of hope for the new head of the organization but I’m really losing faith in his judgment after this.

I guess I also didn’t realize how much hope I was putting, in the back of my mind, in the potential of some magical new position being created by this restructure that would be so much more interesting than my current one and I would be able to switch to that. There are new positions being created all right, and certain vacancies left by other staff moving around, but with all of them I’m either totally unqualified, overqualified and anyway uninterested, or (in the case of one position) initially interested to find out more but then it turns out they basically already know who they’re going to hire. I feel stuck...it makes no sense to look for another job before the baby (besides facing discrimination legal or not for being obviously pregnant, I would likely be ineligible for a lot of maternity leave stuff if I started a new position so close to the birth), and then I have to come back for at least 6 months afterwards or else pay back my maternity leave pay. So I’m basically locked in for another year-ish, and I don’t see how to enjoy this position or how to get a different one within the organization, and someone I like is probably going to end up leaving, and I’m probably going to get kicked off one of the few projects I enjoy because an incompetent person who doesn’t like me (because I hold him accountable) is now in charge of it. Getting moved to a desk I really do not want from a desk I really like is just the icing on the cake.

I don’t know how to reignite my motivation.

#work

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pike-the-monstah · 6 years ago

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whining below the cut because i’ve had too much caffeine and i need to vent

i am so goddamn sick of painstakingly tailoring my resumes and cover letters for every single fucking position i apply to and filing out all their stupid repetitive forms over and over again and triple checking everything for typos (even though they have typos in their job description) and meeting all of the requirements for the job and not even getting a fucking phone screening for all that work for 70+ positions when i have a decent degree, good grades, and some computer experience

and i am so goddamn sick of getting the same advice over and over again of “just keep trying!” and “do you tailor your resume/cover letters?” and “apply for things you aren’t qualified for/are overqualified for!” and “look for connections!” like it’s some groundbreaking new idea that i’ve never thought of when i’ve been doing that this whole goddamn time. i couldn’t even get a fucking interview for a cashier position at a store where i had already worked as a cashier.

i am so fucking sick of feeling like no one in recruiting is fucking listening or gives a shit at all. like i am busting my ass off to make these applications the best they can be and i busted my ass for four and a half years to make it through college with supposedly marketable skills while also working during most of it but i might as well just have been doing nothing for four years and putting random shit on the applications for all the response i get.

it’s so hard to keep giving every application all the personal attention it needs when there’s a 99% chance it’s just a waste of time and they’re not even gonna bother looking at your profile. it’s so hard to keep searching for jobs when you know you’re not gonna hear back from two-thirds of them no matter how much effort you put into the application.

i never expected to “be entitled to a job” or get a job for nothing. that’s why i worked my ass off in college and for the past six months. never mind that a job shouldn’t be a privilege when it’s just doing someone else’s meaningless shit for them just to survive. it’s not like i’m trying to be a fucking movie star here, i’m just looking for a goddamn office job. my standards aren’t that high. i know whatever job i get is probably gonna be mindnumbingly boring anyways. i just want something that pays enough for me to fucking live off of. i tried to find internships in college. i didn’t get any. now every internship wants only current college students and every “””””entry level””””” job wants you to come with a year or two of training already.

i haven’t even been looking that long comparatively, i’m still just over a month out of college. i can’t imagine how people manage to do this for a year or more. i want to scream.

#not cr #personal #i am so frustrated with the whole process #and the end goal isnt even 'happiness in a perfect dream job' its literally just 'making enough income to survive'#like #it just #doesnt matter #no response at all

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get-well-soonish-blog · 6 years ago

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Balancing out the Scales

I know, I told you last week that I’d share really embarrassing photos of myself this week, but I’ve got some word vomit to let out first. The pictures aren’t going anywhere, don’t worry. But they can wait so I can get this out of my system.

So, recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about work-life vs. personal life and how to balance the two. When I first started my job up here in the North Country, I didn’t really have any friends. I also didn’t have much to do outside of work because it was fucking cold and snowy every damn day, so work became my life a little bit; the scales tipped only to that side. My days began to revolve around how much time I’d have after work to get things done (which was none. I’d go home and eat and shower and sleep. Not fun), eight+ (closer to 9-10) hours of my day being locked in to a computer at a desk, and answering work emails even after I’d gotten home. I wanted to be the best. I was DETERMINED to prove that I was overqualified for this position and that I deserved a raise and a promotion by my 90-day review.

L O L.

While I am good at my job, nobody is perfect and I’m no exception to that rule. There was so much I didn’t know and needed to learn. I was arguably out of my league and unarguably in over my head. And so, I struggled. Not only with the tasks I was given at work but leaving those tasks at work and coming home to a life outside of them. I felt like my day wasn’t over once I left because I was struggling and I needed more time to jam in new concepts, learn client branding, and keep up with social calendars. I was literally dreaming about training modules and certification exams, client work and meetings with my supervisor. You can imagine that after a few months of this, I was beginning to lose my mind and it showed.

I’d love to tell you that my 90-day review was full of praise. And on one end, it was. My supervisor stated that my coworkers love my positive attitude, my willingness to take initiative and self-motivation. She said that she could tell my wiliness to understand every aspect of my job proved my strong work ethic and curiosity. But she also mentioned that I had trouble PRIORITIZING MY TIME and that I was taking longer to learn and complete tasks that she’d hoped. Shocker. I knew this was coming. I’ve struggled with attention problems my whole life and being in a completely new setting with tasks I’d never performed before proved to challenge my attention in a way it had never been challenged before. Spelling and grammar were brought up as weaknesses because, to be fair, they were the least of my concerns with all of the work and learning I was doing. It may seem small to you, getting a user handle wrong, but for me in my position, it’s a ding. It’s a sign that I’m not being as meticulous as I should be. It also means credit isn’t being given where it is due and it’s a huge no-no, to say the least. I was super embarrassed by this critique. I know I make mistakes, but so does everyone else I work with. The difference is those types of mistakes for someone in my position matter more. They signify laziness and carelessness but I felt I was being anything but lazy and careless. I just didn’t have time for tight proofreading when everything else was taking me so long to get through. After I was done with what felt like a true beating, my supervisor went on to ask how my work/life balance was panning out; was I adjusting to life in the North Country?

I had no idea that that question would seep its way into my review. I thought we’d just be talking about work. Not my personal life. I wanted to say that I’d found a good balance. But I hadn’t. Not after those first 90-days. I tried not to well up, but she could see I was struggling. So, she pried a little and got it out of me that I wasn’t so good at leaving work behind at the end of the day. I told her I’d been going to therapy because I felt off and part of that was because I felt that work was consuming me. I told her about the way I learn; I’m a hands-on learner and I tend to know I’m proficient in something once I can teach it to someone else. I hadn’t felt like my learning style was nurtured or at least even accepted and there were frustrations on both ends due to this.

I nervously waited for her reply. Would she suggest the field wasn’t for me? Or would she say that agency life isn’t for everyone and maybe I should look into other options? Or worst of all, was she going to tell me that the North Country wasn’t my home? I’d heard so many employees say this upon me moving here. I felt tested; only the strong survive.

Her response was warm and sympathetic. She really listened to what I had to say and actually made a note to ask people how they learn in future interviews. I felt heard and comforted. She told me that she wished she’d known I was struggling earlier. She told me that meetings with her are a safe space; that I can express to her any doubts or questions about ANYTHING, work or personal. This made me really almost lose it. I felt such a sense of relief like all of these months of frustration were being washed from me. My ass didn’t feel so much like it was on the line anymore. I felt valued and appreciated.

After having my review, I immediately began to loosen up. Not with my work or my work ethic, but with my overall life in general. I’ve deeeefinitely stopped dreaming about work. And I’ve become more patient with myself in learning. I’ve been slowing down which has actually sped things up.

Though my review didn’t go as I’d hoped (I did not get a raise or a promotion. But after 90-days, who does???), I got much more out of it than I thought I would. Some sanity. I took my supervisor’s time prioritization notes to heart, and began to prioritize projects at work as well as at home. I don’t always adhere to my plan, but when I do it looks something like this: wake up slowly *important for a cranky monster like myself*, prep breakfast *I usually, bring it to work with me and eat it later because my tummy isn’t ready at 7:30 am*, get ready for the day, go to work, werk werk werk, leave work and all of my tasks with it, go home. And then from there, I choose between dinner with friends, working out and meal prepping, being lazy and sitting on my couch to read a book or watch shitty reality TV, showering, and going to sleep (I’m a nightmare without enough sleep so it’s not something I’m willing to sacrifice during the week. I’m in bed by latest 10 and hopefully asleep before 11 every. Single. Night). My weekends are for me. I do not bring my laptop home anymore and I do not answer work emails on those glorious days off.

To say the least, I’ve learned not to strive for perfection. Striving for perfection means you don’t need to grow; you don’t need correcting or improvement. I’ll always need to grow. I’ll ALWAYS need correcting in order to improve. Remember, my name is, Katie I-do-everything-the-hard-way Pasternak. It’d be a shame if I stopped living up to that now. Ordering my day may seem small or like *duh, Katie, everyone needs to do this to stay sane, we all survive off of routine, it’s human nature* but for me, balancing didn’t come naturally; it’s not in my nature… I’m more of a lets-just-go-with-the-flow kinda gal. So, I’ve had to trick myself into making a flow into a routine. This flow, so to speak, is necessary in putting some weight on the other side of the scale. Sure, sometimes it’s likely to lean more one way than the other, but never will it ever again fully drop to one side. I can promise you that.

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hope-for-olicity · 7 years ago

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Revelations

Upon reading of Felicity with another man, Oliver has a revelation that he may have waited too long to make his intentions clear.

So this is my first submission for the Olicity Hiatus Fic-a-Thon 2018 organized by @thebookjumper - the prompt was Revelation. Also available on AO3.

This story is set early in Season 6 with a few changes from canon. Curtis dies, on the island, Thea is fine and Felicity has her own business.

Oliver sat down at his desk in the Mayor’s office. He rubbed his hands over his face, let out a sigh. He did it. William was at school, he was at work, everything was under control.

He couldn’t lie, being a single father to a boy who just lost his mother, while being the Mayor and the Green Arrow was taking a toll on him. He felt like he was treading water. He worried if he stopped for just a moment, he would drown.

Enough self-pity. He turned to look at the mail his assistant left of on his desk. He began picking up the envelopes when a familiar face caught his eye. There was Felicity Smoak in all her glory on the front of Starling City Business magazine. She got the cover. It made him so proud.

He quickly flipped open the magazine to read the profile on the love of his life. She looked beautiful in a fuchsia dress with bright pink lipstick. God, he missed her. Yes, he’d seen her last night in the bunker but he felt like that was only in passing. He was burning the candle at both ends, that left no time to spend on his personal life. Felicity said she understood that he had to focus on William but how long would a woman as wonderful as she is willing to wait.

He glanced back down at the article. Felicity talked about the tragic loss of her partner in her first business, Curtis. He knew Curtis’ death was not something she nor the rest of them were anywhere near over. It hurt him to think of her grieving alone. Thea had checked in on her, a girl’s night, she said Felicity was withdrawn and wasn’t open to talking about it even with her constant pestering.

The rest of the article talked about Felicity’s newly launched Smoak Technologies and the spinal chip which she now had the legal right to mass produce after taking her other company Palmer Technologies to court for the patent. The headlines were amusing when she won, Smoak Sues Herself and Wins. Another moment, where Oliver was very proud but watching from a distance instead of by her side.

He knew Felicity had thrown herself into her work to help deal with the loss of Curtis. He was glad she was making such strides but he could see the sadness in her eyes. He looked down at the end of the interview where the reporter began inquiring about her personal life, her love life to be precise. The reporter asked if there was any truth to rumours that she was dating actor Chris Pine. Felicity said you know I don’t comment on my personal life but suffice it to say I’m happy.

I’m happy?! Oliver sat up straighter in his chair. Was she really dating Chris Pine?? He knew she had a long-standing crush on the actor but he wasn’t aware that they’d actually met. Had she moved on? It suddenly dawned him there was no reason for her not to move on. It’s not as though he’d given her any hints that a future with him was possible.

Upon their return from the island, they agreed that Oliver would focus on William. But since then, he quickly looked at his calendar, six months passed. If he knew Felicity, which he did, he knew she would never push him. She would put William’s well being above all else. She was emphatic about William needing his father so he knew he was making the right decision. But now….

William was doing so much better, he was still going to therapy but he was in school and making friends. He talked more, even joked with Raisa. Getting Raisa to come help out was one of the best decisions he’d made. Oliver remembered growing up how Raisa just got him and now she got William too. Things with William and him were improving but still on shaky ground.

It suddenly dawned on him that William would probably really like Felicity, well everyone liked Felicity but William liked Felicity things - comic books, computers, video games and he was really smart. Maybe it was time for them to meet again.

Oliver’s phone rang. He saw his receptionists number. “Yes, Mary.”

“Mayor Queen, your 10 o’clock meeting is in five minutes in the boardroom, Mr. Lance is in there now greeting the board members as they arrive.”

“Thanks, Mary, I’ll head in now.”

*****

Felicity was currently running her business out of her loft. She met with clients in restaurants so she decided to save on overhead until she actually had more than one employee. Currently, it was just Alena and her, she was hoping to add Thea Queen very soon.

In fact, Thea was due to arrive with lunch any minute. She wanted to lure Thea away from the Mayor’s office, she wasn’t sure how that would go over with Oliver. So, she decided to take the bull by the horns and ask Thea if she would even be interested in such a position.

Thea had such potential, she whipped the Mayor’s office into shape when she was Chief of Staff, the girl had people skills and manners ingrained in her by Moira Queen, she would be an asset wherever she worked. Felicity wanted that to be Smoak Technologies.

Felicity just finished tidying up her workplace when she heard the knock on the door. She opened the door to see Thea holding a tray of Big Belly Burger drinks in one hand and food in the other.

“Oh, let me take that from you!” Felicity quickly grabbed the drinks from Thea, she put them on the table.

Thea closed the door, followed behind Felicity. “Thanks!” Once she put the food down she quickly pulled Felicity in for a hug.

Thea released her. “So, sister-in-law what can I do for you?”

“Haha, very funny, Thea. Let’s eat the food while it’s hot. I’ll tell you my proposition.” Felicity took a seat, began taking the food out of the bag Thea brought.

“Oooh, consider me intrigued.” Thea dipped a french fry in ketchup. “I’m all ears.”

“Well, first I’d like to say if you are not interested, just say so. No hard feelings. All cool.” Felicity was starting to feel nervous.

Thea reached across the table to touch Felicity’s hand. “Hey, it’s okay. Just ask me. You are starting to worry me.”

“I was just going to say I’ve always admired you, Thea. You as a woman and as a professional. What you did with Verdant all those years ago and all the work you have done at City Hall. You impress the hell out of me.” Felicity smiled at Thea, she could see Thea was surprised by her words.

“Wow, Felicity, thanks. I mean thank you. I had no idea you saw me that way. It means a lot as I really respect you as a professional and you are the smartest person I know. That you would think so highly of me…” Thea smiled.

“Now, for my pitch. I’d like you to come work for Smoak Technologies. I believe you have a lot to offer. I really need the best when setting up my business. You know my core product is the chip stimulant that Curtis created. It costs a lot to re-create per each patient’s specifications and most people with spinal cord injuries don’t have that kind of money. So I need someone to help with fundraising. Both holding events and finding private donors to help aid in this process. Once we have established ourselves with the chip, I will begin introducing other products which will hopefully help improve the lives of others. You know, I want to work on that shiny beacon of hope we talked about before. So, what do you think?” Felicity began to fidget, she really wanted Thea to say yes.

“I think hell yes! Where do I sign? Seriously though, Felicity, you are giving me the opportunity of a lifetime. To use my skills to help you, help people. This would be a dream come true.” Thea jumped up, then stopped. “Can I hug you? Would that be unprofessional?”

“Not unprofessional at all. Come here!” Felicity held Thea tight they weren’t sisters-in-law yet but she would always consider Thea a part of her family. “I’m so so glad you are interested. Now, we can talk about the issue at hand. Do you think Oliver will be okay with me stealing you away from the Mayor’s office?”

“Are you kidding? Ollie will love it! He loves you! He’s so incredibly proud of what you are doing. I think he’d be thrilled for me to come work for you. Quentin is doing a great job as Chief of Staff, they no longer need me over there as a consultant. The only question is when can I tell him?” Thea laughed.

******

Oliver heard the knock on his office door. He finished signing his last document for the day as he looked up. “You’re not Mary.” He smiled.

“Nope,” Thea smiled back. “Mary stepped away, just wondering if you have a moment for your sister.”

“Always.” Oliver got up, greeted his sister with a hug. “What brings you by?”

“I have news!” Thea smiled brightly.

“Good news from the look on your face. So sit,” Oliver gestured toward the couch, he followed. “Tell me your news.”

“Felicity has asked me to come work for her at Smoak Technologies! She has big plans and she explained how my skills would help make that happen. She thinks I’m great!” Thea was practically bouncing in her chair.

“That’s fantastic, Thea! I agree with Felicity you would be an asset to Smoak Technologies. Good on her for stealing my overqualified staff.” Oliver joked, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice. Of course, he wanted Thea to go work for Felicity. They would compliment each other greatly. It was a marvelous opportunity for Thea but he would miss her. Truthfully, the only time he saw her nowadays was at work. Perhaps, it was time for a family dinner. William met Thea once, he knew Thea was dying to see her nephew again.

“Oliver? Did you stop listening? Are you okay? Are you mad that I’m leaving? Felicity was concerned but I told her you would be okay. Was I wrong?” Worry was creeping into Thea’s voice.

Oliver patted Thea’s hand. “Hey, sorry. Momentarily distracted. Not mad at all. So happy for you and Felicity. I was just thinking I would never see you if you leave City Hall, then I thought how it would be nice to have you over for dinner. William is doing better. It would be nice for him to see his aunt again.”

“Really? I can see William? That would be amazing! When do you want me to be there? Can I bring a gift? I mean, I missed so many birthdays so I’ve been buying things...can I give him something, PLEASE?!” Thea batted her eyelashes at her big brother.

“Of course you can bring him a present.” Oliver smiled, he really should have done this earlier. “How about tonight? I was going to make pasta. We can celebrate your new job. I miss you, Thea.”

“Tonight it is! Why don’t you swing by my office on your way out, I’ll head out with you?”

“Sounds perfect. How about a half hour? I just need to check some emails. The rest I can bring home.”

“Great! I’m going to let Quentin know about my new job. I’ll start packing up my desk.”

Oliver watched Thea walk away with a bounce in her step. He was still grateful she was alive, she was unconscious when he found her on the island. Luckily, she woke up shortly after. She had given him quite the fright.

*****

Thea: I told Ollie! He’s happy for me

Thea: When do you want me to start?

Felicity: That’s so good! Welcome to Smoak Tech!!!

Felicity: I understand you may need to tie things up at the Mayor’s office

Felicity: But I’d like you to start ASAP, I’m trying to put this event together for next weekend

Felicity: Could really use your expertise

Thea: I can be there tomorrow at 9

Felicity: Wow that would be AMAZING

Felicity: We can talk salary tomorrow...I promise I will pay you

Thea: No worries, I know where you sleep :)

Felicity: Hahaha

Felicity: See you tomorrow

Thea: Can’t wait

“Aunt Thea, who are you texting?” William wandered over to sit on the couch with Thea.

“I was texted my new boss, Felicity. I let her know I would start tomorrow. She seemed happy.” Thea smiled.

“Is this the same Felicity who was on the island?” William picked up the TV remote like he didn’t care about the answer.

Thea watched as William turned on the TV. “Yes, she is the same Felicity from the island. William, have you seen Felicity since the island?”

“No, but I guess she’s been busy. She seems really nice. Look she’s on the front of the magazine Dad brought home.” William got up, he brought the magazine to show his aunt Thea.

“Well how about that. Well done, Felicity.” Thea chuckled as she looked at the magazine.

“She’s pretty amazing, isn’t she?” Oliver stood looking down at his sister. “Dinner is ready.”

“I’ll go wash my hands.” William darted from the room.

Thea followed Oliver into the kitchen area. “William hasn’t seen Felicity since the island? What’s going on Oliver? I knew you were busy but I had no idea. Is this why you keep asking me questions about her? Do you ever see the woman you are in love with?”

As if he didn’t feel guilty enough, now he had his little sister pointing out his flaws. “Thea, I saw Felicity last night.” Yes, he’s defensive.

“Seeing her in the bunker before and after you change doesn’t count, big brother. You better be careful or she might move on to someone knew.” Thea teased.

Oliver’s faced grimaced before he could stop himself.

“What? Is there someone new? I’m shocked I can’t believe it! I don’t believe it! Who do you think she’s seeing??” Thea’s voice was rising as she became more excited.

“Who are we talking about?” William came into the kitchen.

Thea and Oliver responded at the same time, “Nobody, Felicity!”

“Oh, maybe now that Aunt Thea is working for Felicity we can see her again?” William looked hopefully at his father.

“Of course, we can see her again. She asks about you, buddy, I just wasn’t sure you were up for visitors.” Oliver said softly.

“Well, I’m not up for visitors but Felicity would be nice. Unless you don’t want to hang out with her.” William spoke the last words quickly as though embarrassed.

“Ha!” Thea couldn’t help herself. “Your father always wants to hang out with Felicity. Don’t ever let him tell you different. Now, back to the other topic, who do you think she’s seeing?” Thea began twirling her spaghetti around her fork.

“I didn’t say she was seeing anyone. It’s just the magazine reporter asked about Chris Pine.” Oliver looked down at his plate in disgrace. He’d never be able to compete with a gorgeous actor.

“Chris Pine? As in the actor? Now, I’m intrigued. Maybe she can set him up with me.” Thea smiled.

“Weren’t you listening, Thea? I just said Felicity might be dating him herself, she’s not going to set you up.” Oliver could feel his anger increasing the longer this conversation continued. He had to admit when it came to Felicity he became rather caveman like - Felicity mine - summed up his feelings.

“Ollie, Felicity is not dating Chris Pine,” Thea spoke with a serious tone.

“You don’t know that, Thea. Besides, there is no reason she couldn’t be. Chris Pine would be lucky to date her.” Great, now Thea knew he was defensive.

“Oliver Queen,” Thea put down her fork, waited until he looked at her before continuing. “Felicity Smoak loves you. She will always love you. She’s not dating Chris Pine or anyone else. Hell, I think she’d turn down Chris Hemsworth for you!”

Oliver was puzzled. “Who is Chris Hemsworth?”

William took the opportunity to jump into the conversation. “Dad, Chris Hemsworth plays Thor.”

“Oh,” was all Oliver could think to say.

“My point, dear brother, is Felicity doesn’t want anyone else ever. You are her always, she is just waiting for you to give her a sign. If you ask me, she’s been pretty damn patient. Time for you to step it up.”

Thea used a tone that made her sound like their mother, not that Oliver would say that out loud, somehow he knew it wouldn’t go over well.

“In fact, why don’t you drop over now. I can hang with William until you get back. He hasn’t had enough Thea influence in his life yet.” Thea winked.

“But…” Oliver wasn’t sure what to say. “The dishes…”

William got up, began collecting the plates and silverware. “I can load the dishwasher, Dad. Aunt Thea’s right you should go see Felicity. Maybe you could invite her over here sometime.”

“It’s settled. Go.” Thea’s tone brooked no insolence.

“Okay, I’m just going to change.” Oliver began walking toward his room.

“Wear a blue shirt - Felicity likes you blue shirts,” Thea called after him.

*****

Oliver knocked on the loft door carrying flowers. He was suddenly having second thoughts about the flowers, were they too much?

Felicity opened the door. “Oliver? It’s nice to see you.”

Oliver held out the flowers.

Felicity took the flowers. “Wow, for me? Thanks. Come in. Can I ask why you brought me flowers? Not, that I don’t love them. I do...it’s just that we haven’t really spent much time on our own. Not that I’m mad. I understand you have responsibilities. It’s just I missed you a lot so the flowers are nice...I’m going to stop talking now.”

Oliver shuffled his feet, giving away his nerves. “Please don’t. I love listening to you talk.”

“Wow, flowers and compliments. Oliver, you are killing me.” Felicity blushed.

Oliver stepped forward cupped Felicity’s cheek. “I’ve really missed you too.”

Felicity stepped forward so they were as close as possible. “Do you think kissing, might help with that?”

Oliver nodded before quickly capturing Felicity’s lips. Felicity sank into Oliver. She just gave into the feeling of being in his arm again. One of Oliver’s hand remained on her cheek but his other hand moved down her side and back to cup her butt, pulled her closer still.

“God, Felicity,” Oliver broke the kiss for a moment.

“I hope that’s a good God?” She looked up at him nervously.

“Felicity, I’ve missed you every second. I love you. I needed to say that because I had a revelation today that I might not have been clear about that.”

Felicity pressed a quick peck on his lips. “No, you were clear. I knew you had to take care of William. I agreed, remember?”

They were still a breathe apart, Oliver growled, “I remember but that was months ago, then Chris Pine.”

Felicity was confused. Then it dawned on her. “The article. Oliver, I met Chris Pine at a party recently. I totally fangirled it was embarrassing for him and me. You know about my celebrity crush but that’s all it is. I love only one man, named Oliver Queen.”

Oliver kissed her again more passionately. Felicity really wanted this continue so she pulled back for a moment. “Oliver, how long do you have?” She was a little out of breath, quite frankly dazzled. “I mean, where is William?”

“William is home with Thea. Both encouraged me to come spend some time with you. So, I’m in no rush. Do you have something you need to do tonight?” Oliver asked suddenly realizing she might. He looked down at her, noticing for the first time she was in pajama pants and a tank top.

“Just you, Mr. Queen.” She hopped in his arms. “So you had a realization that you needed to make it clear you loved me, how about you show me?”

Hope you liked :) I’m tagging some people but let me know if you would like to be tagged or untagged.

@memcjo @wherethereissmoak @green-arrows-of-karamel @mel-loves-all @spaztronautwriter @charlinert @tdgal1 @oliverfel4 @vaelisamaza @coal000 @miriam1779 @laurabelle2930 @onceuponarrow @cruzrogue @lageniuswannabe

#Revelations #olicity hiatus fic-a-thon #Olicityhiatusfic #OHFAT #olicity fanfiction #MyFanfic

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pucketknife-blog · 7 years ago

Text

WE’LL CALL YOU~ self para [G]

↪ TAGGING: Noah Puckerman ( @pucketknife ); mentions of... pretty much everyone that manages a shop at JIH AND ELVIS THE DWARF MONGOOSE BLESS; ↪ LOCATION/TIME: NYADA Campus’ JIH Marketplace; May 11th & 12th; Friday afternoon and Saturday morning and afternoon; ↪ SYNOPSIS: It do take nerve! Puck tries his best at being “normal”. It starts with getting a job. Don’t call us, we’ll call you; ↪ WARNINGS: language if any, but nothing major. this is like 14 mini paras in one aka the longest para of all time rip my writing lol;

He’s got a pile of resumes in his hand and nothing but time ahead of him. He’s made sure to schedule every interview at least an hour apart from each other and split them into Friday and Saturday, even fit them to his classes so he doesn’t miss any more. Still, Puck’s hands are sweaty as he walks past Notos Towers as he heads to the JIH Market.

He doesn’t know what to expect. His eyes fall to his curriculum vitae, nothing on it but his personal data and one item that says “Trained Slayer” on it, the date of his thirteenth birthday, a dash, and the date of the sentencing. He downloaded a form from the internet trying to look professional, but it feels like he was reaching. He can’t even put himself as an A-ranked Slayer anymore.

He feels stupid.

However, it’s not like he has a choice. Puck likes eating. He likes being able to pay for his own expenses. He likes being self-sufficient. He doesn’t particularly like clothes, but he likes not getting arrested for walking around naked. Besides, at that particular moment in time, Puck doesn’t have anywhere to fall back onto. He’s on his own, and, even if the times were trying, a Puckerman never gives up.

( Even when other Puckermans are still debating if he could be considered as a Puckerman or not, that is. )

Ergo, him standing there, in a marketplace filled with laughing students, playing nice and being normal and getting a part-time job --or a few, if he manages to succeed.

The mere thought of what his father would say if he was still alive makes him sick to his stomach, and not for the first time in his life, he’s really glad his old man didn’t live long enough to see him where he is now.

He steps into the office of NYADA postal services, just a few people around coming and going, and he approaches the main desk to ask for the manager.

“It’s Amram Puckerman,” he tells the girl. “I believe they are waiting for me? I have an interview scheduled for today.”

She types something in her computer, then gives him a solid nod. “Yes, of course. You are welcome to wait for mr. McNaab right there,” he adds pointing at the chairs under a shelf of flying piggy bank deliverers. “Please, take a sit. He will be with you as soon as he’s free.”

He nods back and sits down, unsure of what comes next. What’s he supposed to do once inside? He’s never been in a job interview before. Are they going to ask him to fit him for a messenger bag? Is he supposed to know anything in particular? Is he overqualified? Or worse, is he underqualified?

“Amram Puckerman,” A whiny voice calls after him a moment later, and he stands up so fast the chair behind him menaces with falling back.

“Yeah, yes, here! I mean... That would be me.” He raises a hand awkwardly, and the old man peaks at him from over his rectangular glasses. They kind of look like envelopes, Puck thinks, but grandpa looks like he’s got little time to deal with bullshit, so he makes no comments and follows him into his office.

He keeps the introductions short, speaking only when he feels a question is directed towards him and hands his crappy resume. Mr. McNaab has to make a double take in between the resume and him a couple of times, but he doesn’t ask. He thinks that’s going to be something he needs to get used to. Maybe he’s read his name on the news. He wonders if that will affect his chances of making it in.

“So, tell me, Amram --may I call you Amram?” he asks politely putting the sheet of paper down and interlacing his fingers as he locks his bright honey-gold eyes on him. “Do you believe that the punctual delivery of mail can contribute to student happiness and health?”

Puck raises a brow.

“Excuse me?”

Mr. McNaab grimaces, but he repeats the question, this time slower. However, it doesn’t really help Puck to hear it again.

“I guess?” he answers. Mr. McNaab is not amused. “I mean, sure. Some students... need the support of their families, right. Like, their gifts? So it’s... like, super important... to get their shi- their stuff. On time. Sure.”

The old man’s expression doesn’t change as he speaks, and Puck can feel a drop of sweat slide down his temple.

“It’s important to keep people communicated,” he tries in a desperate attempt to fix it. “I’m sure it’s not easy to do it, but I’m willing to learn everything necessary to be good at it. I’m a morning person and I wake up before the sun is up, so if you give me a shot, you could have someone delivering mail even before the sun is out. I am also a really fast runner, so I can guarantee my deliveries will always be on time.”

Mr. McNaab nods slowly and his eyes go from Puck, to his resume, then to Puck once more. “Well, that’s most definitely something we like to see. At least you are willing to commit yourself to this job.”

“I am,” Puck adds quickly, almost talking on top of him. “I’m very good at following orders, and I don’t get tired easily --I’m in great physical shape.”

The old man dips his chin again.

“Good. Very, very good.”

He doesn’t say anything else as he stares at Puck intensely, and he squirms in his seat.

“So... Do I-” he starts, but Mr. McNaab raises a hand.

“Thank you so much for your time, Amram.”

Puck frowns, but presses his lips together and doesn’t say a word.

“We’ll call you.”

WITCHKEA looks just like a Common store he’s seen almost all over the country, full rooms in display for someone to point at and buy in it’s entirety. Puck doesn’t really understand what drives people to spend so much money in furniture when he’s managed to survive his whole life with a tent and a sleeping bag, but he’s still applying for a job there. Maybe he doesn’t get it, but he could probably lift one of those armchairs over his head without almost no effort at all --he thinks it’s a reason enough to get hired.

“Have you ever made a purchase at WITCHKEA, Amram?”

Mr. Edison Syven looks like 1800′s oil painting brought to life. His white blonde hair is slicked back into a high pony tail adorned with a white bow, at tune with his white vest and slacks. He walks among the furniture as a model would walk on a runway, fingers grazing at the items as if he was caressing them. Puck shakes his head as he follows him through the store.

“Here at WITCHKEA, we believe comfort is everything. Do you believe in comfort as a root for happiness?”

“Sure,” he shrugs involuntarily, and he’s happy Mr. Syven is more focused in wiping a spot on a mirror and smiling at his reflection than him.

“Tell me, mr. Puckerman, why do you think a properly furnished dorm room is essential to student success at NYADA?”

“Comfort?” he asks, and when the other man looks back at him with a raised brow he knows he should’ve answered that some other way. “I mean,” he clears his throat, “It’s important for students to feel at home so... they don’t get... stressed.”

Oil Paint Gent doesn’t seem to love his answer.

“Thank you, mr. Puckerman.”

“I’m really strong,” he adds in a desperate attempt to save himself, but something tells him he’s too late.

“We’ll let you know,” Mr. Syven smiles, yet the gesture never reaches his eyes. “Thank you for applying.”

He steps into Wholefoods Market and sees nothing but a line of cashiers, gazes blank as they pack groceries like robots. He swallows hard.

This was his future now, wasn’t it?

“Hello! Welcome to Wholefoods Market!” a thin redhead with a surprisingly low voice calls out excitedly, and his huge grin kinda makes Puck want to punch him in the face. “My name is Petey! How can I hep you today?”

He opens his mouth to ask for the manager, tell him he has an interview, let him know he’s desperate for a job, but nothing comes out. All he can see is Petey’s smile and the manic way in which he’s staring at him intensely, almost as if it was a hopeless cry for help. He turns his head to the cashiers, none of them smiling.

This was never gonna be his future.

“You know what, Petey?” Puck taps his shoulder a couple of times, offering a fake smile. “I’m good.”

He turns on his heels and walks out, leaving Petey and his crazy smiling as he waves him goodbye. First dead than dead inside.

“Amram Puckerman, here for an interview?” He leans into the counter as the cute girl on the front desk types into her tablet, sending her a seductive smile. American Witchpparel was never a place where Puck thought he would work, but seeing the girls that worked there really made him want to change his mind. “Here for your number, too, if you’re up to it,” he flirts shamelessly, smiling as the brunette looks up to meet his eyes.

“Mizra will see you now, Puck,” she smiles back, and he raises a brow at the use of his nickname. “What? I watched the NAO,” she shrugs and he can swear she’s batting her eyelashes at him before pointing to the office.

“Of course you did,” he winks as he straightens up. “I’ll see you later?”

“Maybe,” she singsongs, and he feels a boost of confidence. If he fucked it up, maybe she would speak up for him. Even if she didn’t, maybe he’d come back anyway.

“Hello, you must be Amram,” Mizra greets him as she opens the door for him and points at a chair. “You’re interested in becoming a part-time Sales Associate, if I’m correct?”

“Yes ma’am,” he nods handing her his resume before sitting down. “I... don’t have any previous experience, but I’m a quick learner.” And my smile can sell pretty much anything, specially to rich white girls, he wants to add, but he doesn’t. Just in case. So he smiles. He gives her his best, most seductive self and hopes that’s good enough.

“It’s exactly what we need! At least you’re honest about it!” she covers her mouth as she lets out a little snicker. Puck takes that as a win.

“So, Amram,” she starts sitting at the edge of her desk as she looks back at Puck. “What do you think about the phrase ‘dress to impress’? What does it mean to you?

Puck’s smile falters. “What’s it mean to me?” Nothing. Absolutely. Nothing. “Well... I’m more of a ‘dress for the occasion’ kinda guy myself...” he shrugs. “I see clothes as...” Annoying, most of the time. “A practical thing.” What.

“What?” Mizra asks.

“What.” Puck shrugs.

A long pause.

“I’m... not sure I follow...” she tries again, gently.

“I don’t really care how I look, I’m mostly into durable clothes. Like, the ones that won’t set on fire, or wont tore easily when I’m in the field?”

More silence.

“I’m not sure you will be a good fit for this job, mr. Puckerman.”

Puck gulps. “I can do this,” he says, then takes off his belt in a quick sweep, turning it into a whip.

Mizra jumps off the desk and yelps.

“OHMYAETHER, GET OUT!!!”

He doesn’t even try to ask for a second chance as he apologizes and puts his belt back on, hurrying out of the office. The door slams behind him and he sighs deeply.

Well, there goes working among the pretty girls.

“Cheer up,” the girl at the front desk tells him as he walks towards the door, and makes her way up to him, taking his hand in hers and pressing an American Witchppparel card with her number on it as she stands on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “You’ll do better next time. Call me,” she whispers in his ear before walking away, flipping her hair and swinging her hips as she walks back to her workstation.

He lets out a snort and grins to himself as he walks away, saving the number to his phone’s contacts. At least it was not a total waste of his time.

The smell of Cookery & Cauldron makes his stomach groan and bark, but Puck doesn’t let that stop him from trying to act professional as he introduces himself to Patrick and Ersatz Spitz. They seem nice enough, and the shop is inviting. It’s not his dream, but at least it’s not Wholefoods Market.

“What does being a good customer advocate mean to you, Amram?”

Puck has no idea what ‘customer advocate’ means, but he thinks it might have something to do with being a waiter. Patrick and Ersatz’ piercing blue eyes fall on him, and Puck thinks about having them looking over his shoulder every day at work, which doesn’t help him relax.

“I think customer service is super important,” he blurts out. “If you make people feel good enough, they’re gonna come back all the time. Even if the food is not good enough,” he shrugs.

Their smiles falter. Both Patrick and Ersatz Spitz wince a little bit.

“I’m not saying yours is bad!” he adds hurriedly. “I’ve honestly never eaten here before, but the smells right now are pretty phenomenal.” There is a pause of silence, only interrupted by Puck’s stomach protesting again. “Sorry. But, eh... yeah. It’s like, if you treat people well, you make them feel comfortable and at home, it just makes them feel good. They feel like they’re among friends, so they tend to come back for more, right?”

He looked back at the couple, who were now nodding at him silently.

“And I can juggle,” he reaches. “And I do a mean Barak Obama impression, too.”

Just give me chance, Puck begged in his head. All I need is one chance.

By the exchange of looks between the Spitz, he wasn’t sure if he was going to get it.

He steps into The Spa at NYADA taking a deep breath as he is welcomed by the scents and aromas of the place, its warmth seeping into his skin and making him feel relaxed for the first time in the afternoon. Even if he doesn’t know the first thing about Spas, he thinks this wouldn’t be the worst place to be working on the downtime. At the very least, he can predict he’ll be chill, something that he can’t say very often.

“Missus Graeme will see you now, Mr. Puckerman,” the boy on the front desk tells him, his cheeks blushing green as he smiles up at him. “Please, follow me.”

The changeling guides him through a long hallway, doors to each side with different signs that list the special treatments, until they get to the other side and he opens the last door to reveal Millicent Graeme’s office.

“You must be Amram,” she greets him with a smile as he takes both his hands in hers and kind of bows. Puck does the same, just in case. “Please, take a seat, love.”

He does as he’s told, smiling back at her without being able to help himself. Wow, this Spa place was powerful.

“Hi,” he grins. “Thanks for having me.”

Her eyes seem to sparkle as they crinkle in upside down half moons, “Of course, everyone is welcome here at The Spa at NYADA, dear boy.” She takes the resume the changelling hands her and reads it over, brow quirking and smile faltering only slightly.

“Oh,” she sighs, and Puck can swear she looks disappointed. “Well. That’s unexpected.” Still, she puts the curriculum down and looks back at Puck.

“Tell me, Mr. Puckerman, do you have experience or knowledge in physiology and therapy?”

He shakes his head. “I... have some experience in healing others on the field...” he tries. “I can also carry a lot of weight on my shoulders.”

Ms. Graeme lets out a soft, airy giggle.

“That is very interesting, dear. Now, can you tell me something about the scents, and essential oils that help you relax after a long day?”

“E-essential oils?” The only oils Puck knows about are cooking oil and the one that goes in the car. He stays silent for a moment. If he weren’t under the influence of whatever it is they put in the air in this place, he’d be nervous again. “I like the smell of cinnamon and mint,” he offers as a last resource.

“You are a such a sweet boy, aren’t you, mr. Puckerman?”

He raises a brow. He doesn’t know how to reply to that.

“Thank you for your time, love,” she smiles again.

“Okay...”

“I’ll let you know.”

He doesn’t know why he’s trying anymore, but as she smiles, he does the same, too. His smile stays on until he steps out of the shop, when it falls, just as his shoulders and the realization that that was probably a terrible interview. He hates reality.

He schedules his interview at Madame Jason's for Friday morning before his classes, and as the bells chime as he walks into the shop, he is greeted by Ermis Johannes themself.

“Good morning, Puck! The same as always?” they ask with a smile as they reach for their amazing Babka.

“Ye- wait, no, actually,” he stops himself. “I am here for an interview? I kinda need a job and I thought, what could be better than working in my favorite shop in the JIH, right?”

Ermis laughs as they walk around the counter and guides him to one of the empty tables near the window. Once they settle down, they reach out and take the sheet of paper Puck is holding out, brow arched as they read.

“It looks like you don’t have much experience with baked good, don’t it?” they snicker as they slide the page back at him.

Puck shrugs and gives them an apologetic smile. “I’m a quick learner? I can also make some mean-ass waffles,” he offers. “C’mon, I gotta be one of your best customers,” Puck smirks. “Maybe you’ll end up paying me in nothing but baked goods, huh? Seems like quite the offer to me...”

Ermis shakes their head, amused. “You are quite the character, aren’t you, Puckerman?” They roll their eyes at him. “I’ll give you a chance, just for that. How about you tell me about your favorite homemade family recipe, what does it mean to you?

Puck is taken aback by the question. In the back of his mind, an alarm rings. He can almost smell the fain aroma of freshly baked Challah, the taste of the Babka heavy on his tongue, double chocolate chocolate because he’s earned it. The faces are blurred. He can almost hear the voices speaking in gibberish, out of tune, calling his name, his first name.

He shakes his head. Too real.

“Does rice count as a homemade family recipe?” he only half-jokes.

Ermis laughs. “I’ll let you know, Puck. Now, c’mon, let me get you your Babka --aren’t you late for class?”

After class, he doesn’t even bother leaving his backpack in his dorm. Instead, he heads directly to Magical Best Buy and asks for the manager. Soon enough, Ayal Varfolomey walks up to him and shakes his hand. “You’re a little late, but it’s fine. We are in the down season, but we do not tolerate tardiness when school is on. If you want to work here, is important you know that.”

Puck nods, letting them know it was a one time thing of his course running late, and it won’t happen it again, but he’s not sure if Varfolomey is even listening.

“You don’t have any experience with altered electronics, I see...” Ayal points out as they rearrange their cufflinks.

“I don’t, but I’m a quick learner.” He seems to be saying that a lot in these interviews.

“I doubt it,” the employer dismisses him before looking into his eyes. “At least you’re a New Age. So, Amram, what’s your favorite kind of altered electronic?”

Puck doesn’t know how to react to someone like Varfolomey. In other circumstances, he would’ve probably walked away, but he had already walked out from another shop the day before, and his options were limited. He couldn’t take the risk anymore.

“Well, after being hacked when I came to NYADA, I started using magic antiviruses in my computer, so I’d say that’s among my favorites...” he points out, but by the way Varfolomey is raising their eyebrow told him he isn’t selling it. “I also bought a tiny necklace that works as a one tera disk.”

Ayal smiles, cold and clearly unimpressed.

“We’ll let you know, mr. Puckerman. Thanks for stopping by Magical Best Buy; may I interest you in our new collection of Gonzalo the Dragon USB flash drives?”

“Please, sing for us the classic Commons melody ‘The Candy Man Can’ from the iconic movie Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, while you glide around the shop on this rolling ladder!”

“Excuse me?” Puck blinks incredulously as he looks at Valent Antigonus, surrounded by his smiling employees.

“‘The Candy Man Can’! It’s my favorite song. Everyone here has done it!” he squeals excitedly as he points at the people around him, who nod eagerly. “Do you suffer from stage fright, mr. Puckerman?”

“Not really, I just...” he replies as he scratches his head. Antigonus stares at him, eagerment visible in his eyes. He shrugs his shoulders. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

Puck settles himself, grabbing the rolling ladder that sits to the side as Antigonus claps and cheers. “Go for it, mr. Puckerman! We believe in you!”

Oh, how wrong they all were in believing in him. Because Puck is not as well versed in Common music as he thinks he is, and he starts blurting out Christina Aguilera’s version of ‘Candy Man’ at the top of his lungs instead.

🎶 ‘I met him out for dinner on a Friday night He really got me working up an appetite He had tattoos up and down his arm There's nothing more dangerous than a boy with charm He's a one stop shop, makes the panties drop He's a sweet talkin' sugar coated candy man A sweet talkin' sugar coated candy man’ 🎶

He’s kind of getting into it, too, shaking his head to the imaginary music as he glides around the shop to the best of his abilities. He has to admit, it’s kind of fun.

It’s not what Valent Antigonus expects, but he respects the effort. He doesn’t tell him he’s got the wrong song up until after he finishes the first chorus.

Puck would feel stupid if gliding in that ladder wasn’t as enjoyable as it was. He kinda wants to have another shot. He kinda wants the job.

Familiarsmart is bigger than he thought it would be, and as he waits for the manager, Puck can’t help but look around. There’s a huge variety of unnecessary things for animals and familiars, a really cool cowboy hat he thinks would look great on Elvis included, and he’s about to grab it so he can see how much it is when someone taps at his shoulder.

“Puckerman, yes? I’m Saleem Katmandu! Why don’t you come with me? Let’s talk.” Her smile is warm, as it is the hand she places on his arm as she guides him to her office in the back of the shop.

The room is small but cozy, the soothing smell of incense heavy in the air. Puck takes a sit in a puff opposite the one she takes and tries not to look stupid as he sinks deeper and deeper into it, but he probably fails.

“So, you’re interested in working with us?”

He nods. “Seems like a really cool place to work, not gonna lie,” he shrugs a shoulder. “You guys have all kind of good stuff out there. I’m pretty sure Elvis would go bonkers if he saw it...” he smiles back at her.

“Is Elvis your familiar?” she asks excitedly interlacing her fingers and tilting her head. “I would love to meet him, if that’s okay with you.”

Puck wants to say no, that Elvis a hurricane and he will destroy everything on his wake, but her eyes glisten with hope, and Puck feels that denying her this would be like taking candy from a child. So, he smiles.

“Of course, I don’t see why not.” He reaches for his Grimoire inside his pocket, trying not to fall in the process and only half-succeeding. As the book lays on his palm, it starts growing in size until is about as big as his hand, and he opens it to summon him. A blink of an eye later, Elvis jumps out of the pages and lands on the desk to their side.

“FREEDOM!!” Elvis yells at the top of his lungs into Puck’s brain, but all that comes out of his mouth is a ridiculous squeak that makes Saleem giggle.

“Well, aren’t you a delight,” she smiles at Elvis as Puck silently begs him to not fuck up. “Elvis, do you want a snack?”

“Do I want it!” Elvis is quick to jump on top of Puck’s head and land on the manager’s extended hand, taking the treat into his little hands and chomping on it loudly.

‘Be nice, be nice, be nice,’ Puck repeats in his head. ‘Do not screw this up, Elvis, or I swear, you’re not coming out in a whole month.’

Elvis, however, doesn’t have time to listen to Puck whine. He’s all over that tasty treat ms. Nice Eyes hands him and is humming as he savors it. “This is SO good, you need to get me more of these, WOW. Hey, can I be her familiar instead?”

Puck rolls his eyes, “I think he really likes you.”

Saleem’s eyes don’t leave Elvis as she speaks, a kind smile plastered on her features. “I like him too... You’re a little sweetheart, Elvis, aren’t you?” She tickles his stomach with her finger, and Elvis pretty much melts in her hands.

“Ooh, yeah, right there,” he purrs, and Puck is a second away from snatching him away. His little foot taps against Saleem’s palm rhythmically as he leans into her touch.

Still, she doesn’t seem to mind it. She doesn’t even look back at Puck as she follows up with the interview. “Tell me, Amram, how did you meet? Why do you think your relationship with Elvis is important?”

Puck thinks about the question as he watches Elvis lay down on her hand, rubbing himself against her as he keeps making really weird sex noises in his head. Damn, he was a kinky fucker.

“We met way back when,” Puck starts, and then gives her a short version of the story. “He found me in a time of my life in which I felt very alone, and he... kind of became my best and only friend. He can be a bit sassy and annoying at times, because he’s super demanding and he won’t let me cut his nails and he keeps jumping on me and scratching me, but... at the end of the day, he’s always there, y’know? He knows what to say to make me snap out of a funk or encourage me when I need a buddy. He helped me get more in tune with my magic and myself, he helped me understand my powers and, even if he’s got quite the mouth, he’s always been very supportive... in his own way.”

He smiles, and Elvis looks back at him as he lays on Saleem’s hand comfortably and hugs her finger with his tiny hands. “Dude, that was so beautiful,” he mocks him. “C’mere, I wanna kiss your bald-ass head, I wanna smooch your ugly face.”

“Shut up,” Puck snorts rolling his eyes at him, but he’s still smiling.

“You two are adorable,” Saleem chimes in, and in that moment, Puck is sure she heard every singe word Elvis said to him. He doesn’t ask.

When he walks into his next interview in the Coughing Coffee, he’s feeling somewhat confident. He thinks his interview at Familiarsmart wasn’t as bad as every other he’s had this far, and even if he doesn’t want to go on record on it, he believes he might have that one in the bag. He would never tell him, but it probably was thanks to Elvis, who has once again had crept into his Grimoire --he has considered keeping him around, but upon second thought, he was pretty sure he didn’t have the manners to be freed in a public space like the one he was walking into right then, specially not during a job interview. Specially not with so many tasty treats displayed around.

With or without him, Puck is not feeling as crappy as the day before. For the first time since his sentencing, he thinks maybe he could make this work. Just being a student. Having a couple part-jobs to support himself. Get his degrees, at least major in Engineering and Jewish studies --he believes he can get somewhat of a normal job with those. He could design shit. He could fix shit. He could teach. He could blend in.

It’s not ideal, but he has an option. Quinn wasn’t wrong. He does have something to look forward to.

He introduces himself to the manager and follows him to a table far away in a corner of the shop. Mr. Yanick Haanraads sits up straight as he watches Puck closely, just as if he was trying to find what was wrong with him. Puck straightens up himself, smoothing a hand over his chest to fix his shirt, looking down to make sure there were no stains before he looked back at the other man.

“Well,” mr. Haanraads starts, his voice low and soothing, “Why do you want to work on the Coughing Coffee?”

Puck sighs, and he stops himself from shrugging just in time. “I think you guys have the best coffee in NYADA,” he chooses to say with a solid dip of his chin, and he’s not lying. He also think it’s the most expensive in school, but that’s beside the point. “I think, if given the chance, I could... learn to be an amazing barista.”

“Learn?” the man repeats, and he picks up Puck’s curriculum vitae and reads it, brows raising in surprise. “Oh. You don’t seem to have any previous professional experience brewing coffee or other hot beverages. I understand now.” He puts the sheet down and gives him a tight smile. The silence that sets between them makes Puck fidget in his seat.

“I make coffee in my dorm a lot,” he chimes in, and the manager nods.

“Of course you do,” he comes back, clearly unimpressed. “Tell me, mr. Puckerman, what type of coffee bean you consider to be the best and what’s, in your opinion, the ideal way to prepare it and consume it?”

Puck is startled by the question, brows raising in surprise. “Type of coffee bean?”

Yanick Haanraads arches a brow.

“Black?” Puck tries.

“Thank you for coming in, mr. Puckerman,” the man says politely, and Puck’s chest deflates. The interview is over.

“Thanks for your time, mr. Haanraads. I’ll show myself out.”

Dick's Sporting Goods seems like an easy bet, and Puck walks into the shop with much more confidence than he’s had in almost every other job interview he’s got this far. He’s not so much into sports, but he’s always been an athletic guy, he’s sure he could fit in Dick’s Sporting Goods with ease and almost no effort. That’s if he manages to get through the interview without screwing it up.

“Amram Puckerman,” he repeats for what it seems the hundredth time in the past few days as he shakes mr. Pertu Leoni’s hand.

“Ah, yes. Yes, we were expecting you, Amram,” the short man nods as he squeezes his hand. The Italian accent is heavy on his tongue, and his grip is much stronger than he thought it would be. However, even if the man didn’t smile up at him, he appears to be willing to give him a chance.

After a quick round of introductions and Puck letting him know a little about himself -what he studies, what sports he likes, what was he looking forward in a job- the manager looks back at him with intensity in his gaze. “So, tell me, are you a guy who likes to display your school spirit?”

Puck chews on his bottom lip and shakes his head. “Honestly, not really. I’m more of a solo player, most of the times.” He knows it’s not what the man wants to hear, but he hopes at the very least he values honesty. “But I have no problem in being a team sport when necessary. In fact, I was one of the Thundercats, the NAO semifinalists. I think you could say I was kinda getting into the school spirit?”

“Aha, aha, and, do you think sporting events are events are important to student unity?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that. Because, really, who cares about student unity. It’s not like this school will be the rest of his life. This is supposed to be nothing but a stepping stone in his path to success and eternal glory. Yet, he wants to do good. Working in Dick’s sporting goods sure sound better than WITCHKEA.

“I think so, yeah,” he replies, very little conviction in his voice, but he really wants to try. So, he appeals to the only thing he knows how to do well: he gets brutally honest. “The thing about sporting teams and sporting events is that with the whole team spirit, they give you a sense of belonging, and a sense of having something to fight for. Most of these kids, they’re not really used to fighting. Growing up in the field as a Slayer, I think it’s kind of different. We learn to trust ourselves, but also rely on others to achieve our goals. We are a team, because we have no other choice. Relying on each other, how well you can work among other people, can make the difference between living and dying. We train others to make ourselves stronger. Passing the torch is as much of an honor as it is to yield it, you know what I mean?” he sees himself drifting from the point and clears his throat. “What I mean is, sporting events are like the field I work on, but in a controlled environment. You get to learn about your own strength, and by being part of a team, you make each other stronger. You learn to share and to work together as a unit, which is really something many kids who come here never been through before. I think... it’s a healthy and ‘fun’ way to grow. And that’s... well, it’s nice. To belong somewhere.” He gives the manager a smile, sadder than he wishes it was.

“That is one way to put it,” the man nods solemnly. “Thank you, mr. Puckerman.”

He has no clue what that means for him, if his response was enough or if he had just buried his chances, but he knows for sure the interview is over.

“Thanks for your time, mr. Pertu Leoni. I’ll wait for your call.”

He notices the smell of dust and old paper heavy in the air as soon as he walks through the door of Grim & War, and he sniffles as he makes his way to the counter and rings the little bell. As he waits, his eyes drift to the floor to ceiling shelves stocked to its maximum capacity and wonders what kind of things are just sitting there. Puck has never been a big fan of books, but he can understand the appeal. Books aren’t practical, and he’s never been one to read more than what’s absolutely necessary for him (aside from Fight Cub). He respect books, of course he does. He just... rather watch the movie.

“Are you Amram Puckerman?” Mr. Moore smiles at him, lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s nice to meet you, my name is Lazarus Moore. I’m the manager of this store.”

As he tells him a little bit about the history of Grim & War, Lazarus leads him through a mini-tour guide of the shop, pointing at shelves and telling him which section is which and why, how to guide the readers from the best sellers that he wouldn’t buy, to the treasures in the back, those that make his eyes sparkle and sigh in content.

“What kind of experience do you have with magical texts and literature, mr. Puckerman?” Lazarus asks when the tour comes to an end and they stand on the front desk again, and Puck gulps as he works out a way of saying he’s not an avid reader in a way that doesn’t get him dismissed as a candidate for the job immediately.

“I guess you could say, I don’t have much experience with them,” he finally confesses with sincerity. “I’ve never been an super into reading, but I’m slowly but surely learning the appeal of a good book.”

Well, maybe not full sincerity. He’s running out of options, after all.

“My family likes more the kind of hands-on approach of learning, but since I started here, I’ve found myself relying on books and magical texts a lot. If you’d ask me the same question a couple of years ago, I wouldn’t have been able to reply at all, but today... I wanna say, I’m a work in progress. I enjoy reading about things I find interesting as a hobby, specially things that revolve around engineering and constructing things. I’m trying to... train myself, if you will. Make it a habit, reading a little bit everyday.”

“It’s always a good way to start,” Lazarus nods and gives him a little smile. “Are there any books in particular you gravitate towards?”

Puck chuckles and shrugs a shoulder “I’m a bit basic when it comes to literature, so I was hoping maybe working here would somehow... educate me? You see, the only books I read are the Torah, text books on Slaying and weaponry and Chuck Palahniuk. Mostly Fight Club. Several times. Someone I care about gave me some books on engineering that have become my favorites, too.” He can see the manager is amused, and even if he knows he has little to no chance there, he takes that as a good sign. “But, I’m open to suggestions... Is there something you can recommend for me?”

Finally, Lazarus teeth shine through from in between his lips, flashing him his pearly whites as he nods in excitement. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He’s been in Jiggly's more than once before, sometimes with Finn and sometimes alone. He finds it to be a great place to unwind after a long week, so as soon as he walks in, he waves at the staff as he sits on the bar.

“The usual?” A blonde boy at the bar asks as he sets shot glasses in front of him, hand already reaching for the houses’ best Tequila, but Puck puts his own over the glasses and shakes his head.

“Can’t. I’m here for an interview, actually. Do you know where Bert is?”

“Office on your nine,” he points at it with his chin as he wipes the dust off the exhibited bottles. “You think you can keep up with me behind the bar?” he teases him with a smirk. Puck shakes his head as he stands up.

“Oh, Rudy,” he chuckles as he walks away, “You know no one compares to you, babe!”

He laughs as the blonde shakes his head, knocking on the door and waiting for the manager to let him in.

“Mr. Puckerman, no?” Bert asks once he’s sitting in front of him. His bushy brows take over half of his face, expression menacing as he glues his eyes to Puck’s. “Do you have any previous experience in bartending and mixology?”

He sighs softly as he tries to say ‘no’ in the nicest way possible. “It depends on what you call experience,” he chooses to say looking back at Bert. “I’ve done my fair share of bartending for the Guild, but no one’s ever payed me for it.”

Bert doesn’t laugh. Instead, the corner of his lip twitches up and he nods his head. “Funny. You’re funny. I like you. Tell me, what’s your favorite drink? Please describe the best way to make it for me.”

“Favorite drink?” Puck has always been into beer and tequila before fruity cocktails, but he’s lucky his father used to be such a big fan of a good Old Fashioned. “Is there anything better than an Old Fashioned? Just some good bourbon poured on a Angostura bitters saturated sugar cube, a slice of orange and a cherry... In my opinion, it’s even better if it’s a Maraschino Cherry, but my father preferred to use fresh ones. Whiskey works fine, too, but bourbon is ‘for real men’. Or at least, that’s what my dad used to say.”

“Your dad seems like a smart man,” Bert nods solemnly, and for the first time in his life, Puck silently thanks his father for literally beating that recipe into his brain.

He leaves the interview at Black & Deck Her for last, knowing it was going to be the easiest one. After two days of talking to people and begging them for jobs he doesn’t want, Puck finally gets to the one shop he really wouldn’t mind working at. As he watches the display of weapons sitting in the window, he finally feels at home. He’s got this one in the bag.

“It’s nice to meet you, ms. Deck Her,” he says with his most charming smile as he shakes her hand. “I’m Amram Puckerman, here for a job interview?”

“Ah, yeah,” she eyes him carefully. “The Slayer, ain’t ya? Yeah, Davis said something about ya stopping by...”

Puck tries not to take the way she’s looking at him personally, and hopes she’s not one of those people who think ‘Slayers are murderers’, but he’s pretty sure hating on the people who buy from you would be a stupid choice, so he chooses to believe that’s just the way she looks at people in general.

“Well, I’m very interested in the open position you have. Not only I have a good deal of experience with weapons, but I’m also majoring in engineering --I kind of want to expand on my weapon manipulation abilities and be able to create new weapons that are more effective and practical for the field.”

“Weapon manipulation?” she asks, a spark of interest glistening in the corner of her eye. “Do tell...”

Puck smiles and points at an empty cup on the table, “May I?” She nods, and the Slayer wraps his hand around it, an orange flash covering it for a second as it shifts into an RE-45 autopistol. He shows it to the manager, then closes his hand around it and the flash covers it again. He opens his hand to revel a classic Bowie knife, and when he places it on the table and moves his hand away, the knife turns back into the cup.

“That’s a first,” Hilda Deck Her quirks a brow at him. “New Age?”

“Yes, ma’am. Developed that myself,” he states proudly, and even if her face is inscrutable, he knows there’s no way she’s not impressed if she’s as much into weaponry as she is.

“So,” she blurts out a second later as she plops her elbow on the counter, chin resting on the palm of her hand. “What kind of weapons do you practice with? Why do you like them?”

“I’m trained in multiple fighting styles, so I have basic knowledge of how to use most traditional weapons -firearms, swords, the eventual bow and arrow, though personally I’ve always preferred a crossbow, knives and other things- but I usually lean into guns I can yield in one hand. I tend to combine a lot of body combat with weapons and magic, and the good thing about guns is that you can always use them with one hand and punch with the other,” he shrugs with a little smirk. “I think they’re practical, easy to use and effective. Plus, who can resist the smell of gunpowder?” he adds with a teasing wink. He doesn’t get much of a response, and he shrugs a shoulder as he continues. “If I don’t have a gun, my second choice would be a handy combat knife, mostly because of the same reason. They give me the freedom to fight freely and a good back-up plan in case things don’t work my way.”

Ms. Deck Her nods again, writing something down on his resume before she looks back at him. “Seems like you know your way around weapons, huh?”

Puck smiles at her. “I could always learn more. If you’d let me, that is.”

He really wishes she would.

/// Do you want to help Puck get a job? 👉🏿 Call me, maybe? The Survey. ///

#nyadajobs #paras #para: self #para: we'll call you

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