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colsonlin · 2 years ago

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“Cape Cod”: a good old-fashioned short story (a 45-minute read)

“Cape Cod” is an analysis of our society’s tendency to produce narcissism, sociopathy, and casual dehumanization. It felt so good to get all of this off my chest! —Nina

A lot of how we talk about middle school in America is something I take issue with—like, for instance, that it’s somehow not the most formative experience of our lives. (It is.) A lot of people say “college,” but I had already cycled into an idea of who I was going to be as an adult by then—an A student, a talker, a birdwatcher, a take-no-prisoners observer of human social life. I studied sociology at the University of Maryland. At my retail job now—I work at a Nordstrom in Connecticut—I interact with a dying breed: old rich white women who still buy their cashmeres at the mall. At my old retail job in Farmington I was a cashier. At Nordstrom I’m more of a saleswoman—I don’t hand my customers their purchases after I’m done folding their clothes into the bag, I walk around the counter to deliver their parcels to them personally. I work six nights a week until the mall closes at 11 and on Sundays, Mondays, and Thursdays I drive to my second job at a call center in Southington. I earn enough money to pay for my Hyundai and an apartment above the laundromat, have coffee on the weekends, keep up with my student loans, and map out what the next step will be.

College feels like a million years ago.

Middle school still feels like yesterday.

“Brenda” (not her real name), my supervisor at my old department store in Farmington, was the portrait of managerial incompetence. She was fat and unmarried and all of the associates who weren’t actively helping a customer used to crowd into the stock room whenever she came out of her office, usually to berate one of us for misplacing a store key. We all know a Brenda from middle school. Everything you say is wrong, and everything she says can’t be improved upon. Three of us quit within the first ten months of Brenda’s arrival, and at least one of us later wrote an anonymous email to the district manager about her obvious drinking problem.

My old department store—I don’t want to get into any trouble here so let’s just call them “Not-Quite Sephora”—was in a strip mall. I never knew who to feel more sorry for during the day, myself or the customers who came in. I once explained to my boyfriend that we were kind of like Wal-Mart’s “more youthful older sister”—a high school varsity cheerleader perhaps, but still stuck in the past all the same.

There were ten of us on the first floor—the second floor, “Men’s,” might as well have been a different planet entirely. Brenda acted like she was better than all of us, because she has a master’s degree in “Global Business Administration,” whatever the fuck that was. Brenda didn’t seem to understand that all her master’s degree did was make her look both underqualified and overqualified for her job at the same time. (Her main role, from what I could tell, was assigning holiday bonuses and amplifying customer complaints.)

Not-Quite Sephora has a dying business model, but we were kept artificially alive by a steady stream of suburban glum as the principal anchor of a once-iconic strip mall. The first floor was perpetually understaffed—our Google reviews under Brenda’s mismanagement decayed from 4.2 to 2.8 stars (and this coming from a woman who tends to take “American public opinion” with a grain of salt). The turnover rate among everyone except me, Ashley, and Gabby seemed to be such that a new Chris, Brian, or Andy was being fired every three months. Good riddance, I always thought.

Men don’t understand how to take orders from a woman, and the ones who say they do are liars from the black lagoon.

I understand Brenda.

I really do.

Brenda’s most direct feature was that you couldn’t get a direct answer out of her, ever—it was either caustic sarcasm or happy-peppy self-deprecation. Everything she said was either designed to suppress or to charm. She was intelligent, which was the problem—quick-witted even—she prized competence, prided herself on being everything everywhere all at once (with self-pity), once complained to me in the break room that she was an ex-spelling-bee champion. Appearance-wise, what once made me jolt awake at night was that she tries, she actually tries. Not doing anything to set Brenda off had become something of an obsession of mine by her third month there. I applied to other jobs, but only in non-retail.

Trying to go non-retail—my life in a nutshell.

Brenda took over at a precarious time. Inflation was rising. Covid was either over or about to be over, but either way, brick-and-mortar seemed to be one of its death tolls. Brenda had mousy blond hair, wore black trousers to work, and used to tramp around the store carrying an inventory clipboard whenever she was upset about something. I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to take fashion-merchandising so seriously. Her first day at Not-Quite Sephora, Brenda compared our fitting rooms favorably to the fitting rooms at her old Kohl’s in Florida, now shuttered (“So coming back up here was kind of like coming home for me, y’know?”). Brenda grew up in a trailer park in New Jersey and you can tell.

You can guess what her politics are.

I think what appealed to me most about the Cape Cod trip, if I were to be honest, was the right to tell Brenda that I’d have to take a few days off in mid-September because my boyfriend had invited me on a trip to “the Cape.”

Here was a woman in her late forties or early fifties who had located the profundity of her self-esteem in “competence”—and yet it never finally occurred to her that the only way to be “competent” in your everyday life is to command the trust of those around you. Trust is earned, Brenda, and it’s lost with unreliability. I could never really trust that woman not to not trap me inside a rule without being able to explain to me the reasons—not to not be imperious and self-certain and in self-protection mode at all times—and not to not explode all of her emotional wreckage on me, drenching me in the black mist of her self-absorption. Brenda was always right. Brenda is never to be questioned. (Brenda’s real name is “Karen,” which is why I didn’t want to say it at the time.)

It felt so good to able to tell Brenda that—all of her anxieties about the back-to-school rush aside—I’m going to have to take three days off in mid-September because my boyfriend has invited me on a trip with his three friends to the Cape. (I met my boyfriend a year ago on Opal.) It pained me to be so petty—no, not the reference to Cape Cod, which was just a kiss on the lips, but the reference to having a boyfriend, which was my primary poison. I wore more eyeliner to work, not less, the longer the weeks went by trying to circumnavigate Brenda’s imperialism. I enjoyed looking like a magazine cover while supplicating to her at the makeup counter.

We worked at a department store.

(“—so that’s my life, okay?”)

I could see it already. I love how Brenda, with her master’s degree in Global Business Studies or whatever the fuck she majored in, has to flinch every time who I really was blinked in front of her. I bet you flinched every time you saw me shrug into your office, Brenda, no matter what you called me into your office for, because I know about the Us Weeklies you stole from the front stands—I told Accounting about them!—I know how responsive you are to young women with movie-star looks who had won the genetic lottery. I smile at you, Brenda, precisely because I know how my angelic dimples make you feel. It makes you feel like you want to protect me.

It makes you feel you need to defend your true queen.

Beauty was my one and only power over Brenda, but I can assure you I only used it sparingly (all it took was sparingly with a woman so obsessed with appearances). We don’t talk about being pretty enough, which is another way of saying we don’t talk about seeing only the appearances enough. Seeing only the appearances was how I, prior to this weekend, once saw Cape Cod. What do you know about Cape Cod anyway? What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you mentally google it? I want to leave you now with an image of seagulls.

I matched with my boyfriend last September on Opal.

Now I know what you might be thinking—this whole story basically amounts to one long humblebrag about how I have an account on Opal, lol. No. First of all, I deleted that account six months ago. My boyfriend and I both did, on the same day—that was how we agreed to be serious.

Opal’s cornered the market on young attractive people who like to paraglide to remote destinations—the one and only trick it has up its sleeves is “exclusivity,” which in America is a royal flush. I’ll tell you real quick how I landed an account on Opal. A hedge-fund apparatchik I had gone on two dates with wrote me a recommendation letter after I told him I didn’t think it was going to work out between us, but did he still want to be friends? (And what do friends do?) It was his fault. He was the one who’d bragged to me about having an account on Opal in the first place. He even helped me pick out my profile pictures.

I left the Alma Mater field blank.

Opal’s about what you’d expect—videos of narcissist after narcissist who summer in Thailand. I swiped past all of the alpha males, which took days. Men who were earnest or men who were silly were the only men I could take seriously.

My boyfriend’s in that five percent of men just below the top ten percent that most women don’t know to circle the ocean for. You know the type. He’d be unstoppable if just one or two more things had gone right for him, but as it were, the wrong job, the wrong company, the wrong alma mater, had kept a handsome face trapped beneath a monthly gym membership. You’ll recognize these five-percenters from their personality—pure souls who’d lucked out facially, two sevens on the slot machine, but whose unambiguous victory had been stunted by some existential lemon. Some of them have eating disorders. Some google “male plastic surgery” in the dead of night. In my boyfriend’s case, he’s pansexual. Open-minded women have rejected him, which gives him a chip on his shoulder, and now he thinks he understands what it’s like being a minority. My boyfriend’s the type to care a lot about social issues. I’m not sure he even knows we’re interracial.

His parents have a house in Cape Cod.

His dad’s a federal judge and his mom’s an immigration attorney. Until we met and he started showing me pictures on his phone of his childhood vacation home, I had never really thought a lot about Cape Cod. I only knew it as the brand of a potato chip one step up the class ladder from Lay’s, and as a cultural metonym for white-sand beaches, old stone lighthouses, and the Kennedys. Brenda grew up in a trailer park in New Jersey, but I’m sure she must have learned at her master’s program what Cape Cod was.

Cape Cod was where she wanted to be.

And as it so happens, Brenda?

Cape Cod is me.

I wanted so desperately to tell her but I couldn’t.

I wanted so badly to inform Brenda that I had more important things to worry about than making sure the lipsticks were alphabetized, or that the powders were arranged in alternating shades of rouge and beige: namely, that a splitting image of one of the stars you read about in Us Weekly had a life to live, and she was going to enjoy the fruits of her beauty—fruits that Brenda could only live vicariously through (I tallied six missing issues of Us Weekly over the course of a year; no other magazine had gone unaccounted for during the same period except for a single issue of Better Homes & Gardens, which I found one night crumpled on top of Brenda’s desk).

The way Brenda’s eyes lit up whenever she talked about Mackenzie Davis—I just needed Brenda to recognize my own beauty in the same way! It flipped around, you see, like a head trip—sometimes Brenda bowed to her true queen, and sometimes she said mean things to me. I wasn’t thought of as “intelligent” by Brenda, and I could never tell if it was because of my race or my beauty—the two possibilities flickered around in my head like a dueling candlelight until one night I decided, “It’s both,” and just let it die.

Resentment was brewing between me and Brenda.

Ever since I realized I would have to lie to her about my Cape Cod trip, because September would be the back-to-school rush, and there was no way Brenda was okaying me those vacation days. At Not-Quite Sephora, Brenda’s first rule was: “Just be honest. I want to know everything.”

But do you, Brenda?

Do you want to know how I plan to get out of work during the back-to-school rush, because I’ll be with my boyfriend and his three Yale Law classmates traipsing across Cape Cod? Do you really want to read about a beautiful woman’s life in Us Weekly? (Just steal my diary.) I’ll call in sick. I’ll lie and cough right to your face over the phone, Brenda, and I’m telling you it’s corona. I don’t have to be honest with you about anything because you rule by fear, not trust, and in a world of fear without trust anything goes.

Fear without trust is the animal kingdom.

And Not-Quite Sephora is the animal world.

The night before my last day at Not-Quite Sephora, Brenda humiliated Ashley in the stock room. (Ashley had made the mistake of asking her for paid time off for a wedding in December.) I didn’t overhear it, but I heard about it, which was enough. I have always had a way with words, and I gave Brenda some direct evidence of it by way of a resignation letter I wrote to the district manager—only it wasn’t really a resignation letter, it was more like a record of how Karen McHiggins was a terrible supervisor, sent to Corporate and cc-ed to the entire floor. (What mattered wasn’t that I had cc-ed the entire floor, but that the next morning, every single person on the floor congratulated me.) The group chat I’m in with Ashley and Gabby pops off more than ever now ever since I quit, only I didn’t mean to quit.

I only wanted to take a truthful temperature.

Brenda showed all of her cards when I showed up to my shift the next day. “Nina? My office. Now.”

I made eye contact with Ashley, who was already in her uniform, and we both smiled.

She kind of gave me an eye hug.

I wore nude lipstick that day.

The email I had sent Corporate was subject-lined “Management’s Mismanagement,” and it listed six bullet points about Brenda’s bad behavior (one involved throwing a purse at a mannequin; the last five were instances of emotional abuse). It ended with a paragraph about Brenda’s encounter with Ashley in the stock room (Brenda had called Ashley “unlikable,” “self-absorbed,” “a fucking dipshit”).

I laid out the case like the lawyer I couldn’t afford to be (I had other interests, hobbies, and pursuits in middle school, like not killing myself). Brenda was probably shocked I could write. She was probably shocked I could read, but I wield words as weapons—that’s the only thing you ever have to know about me. (In third grade, I won the spelling bee too.)

How did I dress for work the day after I wrote “Management’s Mismanagement” (and really I should say the morning after, because I sent the email at 4 a.m. and had to wake up three hours to let an exterminator in)?

I looked like a star.

I had even spent the last six months of my life casually coaxing Brenda toward the mixed-race celebrities I wanted her to subliminally see me as. Cape Cod would smile. I’d fit in well there, because in my late forties or early fifties I’d have the sort of personality that everybody at Beach Road would know to be impressed by—I could lift my life up to heights that the bourgeois rabble couldn’t even see. Not a single one of my applications to a white-collar job had ended in a palatable offer. Not-Quite Sephora, founded in Vermont, has a labor-friendly CEO. My benefits were good—I even had vision and dental. “One way or another, I’m bringing up my Cape Cod trip,” was the last clear thought I had before knocking on Brenda’s door.

“Come in,” a harsh voice gruffed.

I opened the door.

“Close that please,” was the first thing I heard Brenda say before she and I even made eye contact.

I closed the door dutifully.

Karen McHiggins was standing next to her desk in red pants and a black blazer. She had tied her hair into pigtails that day for some reason, although her hair was so short that they ended up looking more like ringlets, and her eyes behind her glasses were blue and pixel-like. Brenda made a quick gesture at the floor with her hands, almost like she was trying to say “Enough!”, and then said: “What is going on, Nina—what is going on, because I do not understand you.”

Her voice was hoarse.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her red pants—but your blazer is black?—so I just said, “I—” while panning my gaze to her desk, waiting for her to continue.

Brenda’s desk was a mess.

Just like her thought processes.

“If you have ever had a problem with me, you could have come to me directly. What have I always told you, Nina—” Brenda was now screaming.

Brenda thinks screaming has an effect on me.

She’s right—loud noises do have an effect on me. Elevated decibels have an effect on every animal that evolves through nature. How much do I hate Brenda right now? My eyes are staring into hers—but I don’t see a human.

I see an animal.

The power of volume is that it throbs the ear—and ears desire music. Ears desire harmony. Wild animals make me forget poetry as I bolt into the jungle—how much do I hate the woman screaming into my ears right now? Well, there’s a simple formula for that, and all of us are making it, even if we don’t know that we’re making it. We take how much anxiety we experience from being around a person, and then we multiply it by a factor.

My factor is 1 when that person is equal to me.

My factor is a fraction of 1 when that person is homeless.

My factor is greater than 1 when that person is greater than me.

And for Brenda my factor was 42,137—that’s 1 for every dollar that the winds of Brenda’s turbulence lorded over me, granting me vision and dental.

The ensuing number is a hatred.

How much anxiety was Brenda creating in me? Well, for starters—how much did I distrust Brenda? (And how much did I secretly want Brenda to like me?) All the eyeliner I wore to work every day—it wasn’t for mall patrol, it wasn’t for Ashley, and Lord knows it wasn’t for Gabby.

It was for me.

But maybe a little bit of it was for Brenda.

And how much taller does Brenda tower over me right now?

And how much taller does Brenda tower over me right now? Well, let’s see—I submitted 42 job applications, all non-retail. Interviewed at 11. Final-rounded at 7. Received an offer at two—both in New York, which I couldn’t afford. A young white boy at a social media marketing firm told me during the interview that I was “obviously brilliant” before offering me an internship. By July, Brenda towered over me like a god. I fell asleep at night fantasizing about her supervillain origin story. Brenda complained so much about Americans who weren’t vaccinated that I once asked her if she was a childhood polio survivor. “Where in the world did you get that idea?” Brenda laughed, and I laughed too. “Oh, I was just curious.”“How many times have I told you, Nina…”

My expenses have been going up, thanks to my new boyfriend. (As a matter of fact, I am the type of girl to go Dutch!) Taking over Brenda’s position would mean a four-percent raise. To my surprise, Brenda took off her glasses, put them on top of a crinkled magazine on her desk, and started crying. Like, actually crying.

Two actual teardrops leaked out of her eyes.

Self-pity makes me uncomfortable. It makes me uncomfortable when the powerless do it, because now I have to do something, and it makes me uncomfortable when the powerful do it, because now I have to eat them. When somebody more powerful than me expresses self-pity, I can’t help it: I want to guillotine them. I want to take away their right to exist, but I want to watch them suffer first. If I were God, I’d invent Hell just for Brenda. It satisfied me that Brenda would most likely die without children or a partner. I want all capitalists in the First World to die without children or a partner, but to have afterlives that go on forever.

It still doesn’t seem enough though.

Brenda’s office has a desk, no windows, and a door that leads to the loading dock. A poster on the wall behind her desk, and I was just noticing this about her office now for the first time, was of a lighthouse in Cape Cod. “—the back-to-school rush—” Brenda was saying, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

The ceiling light was fluorescent, and the walls were built of the same beige bricks that made up my elementary school. I once applied to a master’s program in sociology at Johns Hopkins University.

I got in, too.

I hate it here in America—doesn’t anybody else? Is this really that much better than the Soviet Union?

Sympathy for Brenda?

Brenda who lorded over my vision and dental like a bureaucratic algorithm—my boss Brenda?

I did good work.

I was Brenda’s star employee! (I left that part out because I’m not the bragging type.) The only work I couldn’t charge for was the work I didn’t want to do—navigating around the runes and mysteries of Brenda’s uncharted sensitivities like Leif Erikson. The truth was, I hated Brenda for not being able to see me as a beautiful woman just because I wasn’t a beautiful white woman like the pin-up girls she’d gone to school with in New Jersey. Brenda bleeds white guilt, but she rarely ever let me massage any of it toward my favor, except superficially (and you can guess by now how I feel about superficiality). Brenda’s insincerity dehumanized her to me. We humanize each other first as leaps of faith, and then through trust—and nothing about Brenda’s way of existing suggested she could be trusted by me. Not her white guilt. Not her New Jersey liberalism.

Not even her tears.

In fact the longer Brenda cried, the more intensely I wanted to punish her—the phrase “white bitch tears” comes to mind. I wondered if Brenda sincerely didn’t understand that if I could push a button to keep her trapped inside a hole for the rest of her life, I would, and her tears only made me want to push harder. Still, it gave me a start to see—this woman who could take away my ability to not go into debt like checking “Buy Now” on Amazon—reduced before me into a person now trying to trick me into believing she has a soul.

Don’t the workers of the world understand?

Powerful people don’t have souls.

Brenda having a soul would have meant taking my ideas about the BOPUS orders seriously, and not dismissing them out of hand because how could any good ideas come from Nina, the pretty one, if Brenda’s even not-racist enough to see me as pretty (BOPUS is industry slang for “buy online, pick up in store,” and it’s basically brought Not-Quite Sephora to its knees—that and Brenda’s mismanagement). I could divide my hatred of Brenda by a factor to account for the fact that she was fat and unmarried—but whose fault was that, Krispy Kreme? Do you think I actually like exercising?

Are you ready for some real talk now?

I can tell you about the runner’s high until I’m blue in the face, but I’m not built inside like a runner—I’m built inside like a girl who understands that nothing tastes as good as being pretty feels. I don’t know how American society decayed to this point—my Ph.D. dissertation in sociology at Johns Hopkins would have been about the link between an artificial society and the importance placed on appearances, but I couldn’t afford to go, I had actual work to do in middle school (like not killing myself) so I never bothered thinking very long and hard about anything. “Quitting would mean losing my gym membership,” I suddenly remembered.

A new recognition suddenly dawned over me—no gym membership would mean no Cape Cod. It takes a couple hundred months and a couple thousands steps to get there, but trust me, I’ve worked out the odds.

(I make my brain work for me.)

I looked at the lighthouse poster behind Brenda’s desk and said: “Brenda, it’s just—how you treated Ashley last night in the stock room…”

“You weren’t even there!” was what a clear-headed Brenda would’ve said, but Brenda the Tender said nothing.

“I heard about it from Gabby,” I continued. “You know, we’ve talked about this so many times.”

“I know, I know,” Brenda whispered.

“You don’t know how to create a functional work environment sometimes. Groups are held together by trust, not fear.”

I wasn’t quitting.

I was saving everyone at Not-Quite Sephora from Brenda’s bad temper. Brenda’s boss Charles would understand—he’d say, Nina made some good points in this email, but it sounds like you guys have everything worked out, so get back to work—and everyone would move on.

Only Brenda would now be moving into the light.

She would see how her anxieties about Not-Quite Sephora’s declining sales figures were spilling into her paranoias about job security (“And what will I do with all of my competence now that I can’t find a job because I’m old, fat, and ugly?”) and have been spilling into us as sarcasm and curt dismissals ever since her second day on the job. (Her first day was lovely—I was obsessed with Brenda! I even nicknamed her “cool Mom” to Gabby and Ashley.)

How Brenda appeared to me that first day was how Cape Cod once appeared to me too, before this weekend—white-sand beaches, old stone lighthouses, the Kennedys.

Cape Cod had told me a story—and so had Brenda when she first took over Kristi’s post at Not-Quite Sephora (Kristi got pregnant and never came back). Cape Cod’s story was Yale Law, benevolence, intellectualism. Brenda’s story was that she was loud and earthy and understood how to make an entrance—if she’d been honest, she would’ve just said: “I can use my power to make you feel however I want you to feel about yourself. I’m an emotional abuser.”

But the story I heard, because I’m a gullible sweetheart, was “Fun Mom.”

I laughed along amiably to “stressed-out Mom,” bopped along bewilderedly to “not everything is functional upstairs Mom,” and—how do I put this?

I didn’t like the mother who had a master’s degree.

Self-protection was Brenda’s middle name, and nothing I said using the tools of reason or logic could penetrate the fortress of Brenda’s first impressions—that’s the definition of “closed-minded,” by the way (Brenda has a lot to say about closed-minded people—that’s the crazy part).

How we look is the first story we tell each other about who we are. It’s our audiovisual accompaniment to the words that make up the second half of our story—the “spoken half”—and everyone understands that this isn’t fair, everyone understands and then does nothing. Brenda isn’t the only person who learned how to survive in America by going to an American middle school. She’s only lost her temper at me a couple of times, but I’ve been tracking all of them.

I’ve been watching you like a falcon, Brenda.

I’ve been watching you like a true A student.

True A students are out of favor in America for a reason. We’re only mortal, but we’re a little bit supermortal too. Because what I really didn’t like about Brenda was her insincerity—“When have I ever said no to you, Nina?” Brenda was now drying her eyes with a tissue and screaming.

It was a change in the air—a subtle bit of misdirection that she probably thought I was too stupid to catch (I’m not).

I was the powerful one now.

And Brenda McHiggins was now “the victim.”

“You threatened to fire me right after Easter for being late on a BOPUS order,” I treaded carefully.

“Nina, ninety-nine percent of our Google ratings come down to the BOPUS orders—”

“Which is why I said you needed a better system for assigning roles for when people aren’t .”

“Which is why I said you needed a better system for assigning roles for when people aren’t here.”

“But I never threatened to fire you.”

“You told me you’d have my name forwarded to Charles!"

“Exactly!”

“Which is the same as getting fired!”

“That isn’t true, Nina—I would have protected you.”

This statement was so stupid that it almost broke my brain. “Wha—protected me: do you not understand how Charles operates?” Brenda turned her back to me, waved her hand in the air, and said: “I’m not going to go into this with you again” as she looked for her glasses.

“It’s right there,” I said. “On top of Better Homes & Gardens.”

“Oh,” Brenda said without acknowledging me.

Brenda put on her glasses and then sat down into the chair, which made a sound like it was about to snap in half.

This was how she always liked to berate us—from her chair. I had seen that painting of the lighthouse behind Brenda’s desk so many times—it just never occurred to me that it was Cape Cod. Sometimes, I’d overhear Brenda berating Gabby on my way to the restroom and I’d think, “Well, she isn’t wrong—Gabby is kind of stupid—but that’s still not the way you talk to her. You have to incentivize her to trust you first.” (Gabby was the one who first changed Brenda’s nickname from “Fun Mom” to that cunt with a stick up her ass.) Ashley and I burst out laughing. (What else is there to do inside a dying country?)

“Everyone here is so short-tempered with each other because you set the tone. I’ve been too afraid to ask you for three days off in September to go on a trip with my boyfriend for our one-year anniversary because I knew you weren’t going to say yes, so I was just going to take them off as sick days—and that’s not a functional work environment if people are constantly doing things like that all the time, because what you really need to do is go to Charles and ask for more staff.”

“This September—oh, Nina, you got to be kidding me!”

It was the first honest thing I ever heard Brenda say.

I thought about my naïve dream from earlier—how I thought I was going to turn Brenda around.

How I thought I was going to save the store. “The problem is we’re under_staffed_” was what I should’ve said—I get that now, I do, and I don’t know why I couldn’t wear it in my mouth even as it was trying to form in my subconscious. Because other forms were rising in me now too, forms like: “Brenda is a world-class manipulator. She butters you up just to brine you.” (I couldn’t even trust her tears, and if you can’t trust someone’s tears, you can’t trust them to ever find help.) I don’t know how I’d fare if it were just me and Brenda on a deserted island—I could see her killing a cougar for us with her own bare hands, but I could also see her killing me. “I never said that, I just told you I’d have to forward your name to Charles”—Brenda the liar. Brenda who could probably play dead about as well as she could play stupid—any falcon worth its weight in bird could see through it.

“I’ve been having issues with my boyfriend,” I suddenly blurted out.

Where had I learned this from?

Middle school.

“The anniversary trip means a lot to him, and I can’t even say yes or say no—it just hangs there over us, because he knows about the back-to-school rush. And he’s not even someone I—even feel fully comfortable with in some ways. But I’m also scared to lose him, I’m scared every time I come into work on Tuesday because I don’t know how you’re going to change my hours. Everything we do revolves around my not having enough time—I’d have issues building a perfect relationship with him if we had the rest of our lives to ourselves on a deserted island, but every weekend until closing? He works a normal job! He’s tired all the time too, but he makes time to see me and I can’t—I can’t come to you about anything.”

I didn’t cry.

But I did smile in my head:

“Wanna play victim, bitch?”

I could see Cape Cod now—I could see its lighthouse drawing my boyfriend and I closer and closer, I could see us dancing now to The Strokes at midnight like we were back in middle school because I didn’t want this to be the rest of my life, I don’t want retail, I don’t want resumes and cover letters and I don’t want to meet any more Brendas—what I want is for the Brendas of the world to collapse at my feet, but all I can see are the Brendas of the world closing in on me until death and so I need a release, I need to go back to middle school (I was popular in middle school, I can admit that now, I had bee-stung lips, and a bee-stinger too)—I need The Strokes (haven’t you ever made out with a boy in a hot tub while stroking your nails across his abs, parting the hair where his lower back begins?)—“Is this it? … Is this it?”—(my boyfriend and I swimming in the stars of our liberation, and I’ll give him all the vision and dental that he likes)—prey: always just a one-click order away (and we’ll eat lobster, because lobsters hold harms forever)—I the warm body and he the warm arms, holding me in his lanky-panky forever (and if Connor ever got a gym membership I would die—I don’t need a perfect 10, I can settle for an 8.9)—my captors: do they know? Do they understanding I’m not living my one true life? Wearing Ray-Bans while gazing out at the Atlantic from a yacht, because Comfort is my one true God—I’m ready, Mr. DeMille, for my one true closeup to begin. How am I still in Brenda’s office? I’m twenty-seven years old—how am I twenty-seven years old and still smoldering in Brenda’s office? In middle school I listened to The Strokes while everyone else listened to pop hip-hop—another Universe has been calling to me all my life. And all it would take was just a few more thousand steps to get there.

I’ve been running every day since I was thirteen. I don’t even eat my desserts correctly—I just spit and chew.

Ashley and Gabby remind me of who I was back in middle school. I had power over everyone back then except Abercrombie Couture (not her real name). Abercrombie was the class favorite—it’s hard to explain, but among the very-outgoing girls, Abercrombie was Frivolity Personified. And when only the people who needed to see it could see it, Abercrombie was the cruelest human you’ve ever met—she’d ignore you so subtly you’d drive yourself crazy for days asking the other girls if she was mad at you. Back then I had already begun telling myself I was too cool to care—but I still have nightmares about Abercrombie sometimes, about the way she’d say hi to everybody else at the party except me. “I just can’t deal with your emotional up and downs anymore, Brenda! Like I’m sorry—I’ve defended you to Ashley and Gabby so many times! I’m sick of having these conversations with them.”

Abercrombie, I later realized during college, must have been unsettled by how candidly I could talk about her behind her back. That was my little power over her, and I’d like to think I wielded it gracefully. (Abercrombie was dethroned by a lurid sex scandal involving a used condom in eighth grade, and I’d like to believe I led our class to a more open and inclusive place after her dismissal.)

“Three days—where you trying to go, Wuhan?”

“No. The Cod.”

“The what?”

“The Cod.”

“Where’s that?”

“In Massachusetts.”

“You mean Cape Cod?”

That was how quickly I realized I had fumbled the ball—that was the speed at which I realized I had fumbled the fuck-you—the one thing I needed to do correctly and I had fumbled the ball trying to cross the finish line. “It’s the Cape, not the Cod sweetie,” Brenda was already huffing to me by the time I realized my mistake, with a smile on her face. She’ll deny it to this day, and in absolute candor I can’t really say it was a “physical” smile—I don’t remember what it looked like, I don’t remember if Brenda actually huffed or if she even moved her mouth all that much at all, it was more in the eyes, but that bitch smiled.

I grew up in Nevada.

My boyfriend graduated from Yale Law and with him I can see a way out of my life—and I really don’t understand why that’s such a terrible thing to say. And I’m about to lose him—it’s in between the lines, but I can just feel it, I have him wrapped around my little finger because that’s the only way I’d ever have any man who loomed so tall over me, with him it’d be Cape Cod until the end of my days and nobody would ever laugh at me for calling it the Cod again—I’ll just rename it.

My hatred of Brenda in that moment was rivaled only by my childhood hatred of Abercrombie Couture.

But I knew I had to proceed gingerly.

I began to feel like Leif Erikson again—what other uncharted sensitivities do you have, Brenda?

Do white people really have white guilt?

Verbalizing the subconscious is like navigating by stars—Pequod knows where it’s trying to go, it just needs the conscious mind to plot out the steps to get there first—only I couldn’t verbalize any of this, all I could do was feel the mind for throbs like the twitches of a rat’s tail inside the forest below—and I was throbbing for a release, I was throbbing all my middle-school embarrassments, I was throbbing Cape Cod. A woman who understood nothing but appearances stood in front of me, utterly preoccupied with her own self-preservation—neither wise, open-minded, nor beautiful—but who could mean the difference between me and my income, between me and my livelihood, between me and my boyfriend breaking up (which would mean the difference between me and Cape Cod)—and I couldn’t even get anyone on the second floor to take her magazine theft seriously. How do I even begin to tabulate all her subtle knife-wounds to the psyche?

My favorite song by The Strokes?

“Hard to Explain.”

“You can correct the way I say things all you’d like, but it doesn’t change the fact that I live in fear of you—okay? I go home every night and cry. You bully Ashley and Gabby every day but I’m not Ashley or Gabby—okay? You have not created an emotionally safe environment in the workplace and it’s affecting my life—okay? I’m sorry you take yourself so seriously, and I’m sure it has nothing to do with your fear that all the girls who thought you’d never amount to anything in middle school might be right, but if you have to terrorize other people just to feel better about yourself, that’s not how I roll—okay? That’s not me. The way you talk to Ashley, Gabby, Mike, Chris—it’s un-ac-cep-ta-ble, Brenda.”

And this is where my ship was trying to go:

“I don’t think you belong in your position. So that’s what I told Charles.”

I’d set fire to Cape Cod if I could.

I’d set fire to my boyfriend’s lake house, I’d set fire to Brenda’s Us Weeklies, and I’d certainly set fire to the poster of the lighthouse with seagulls behind Brenda’s desk.

“I don’t work here anymore. Not until you apologize to Ashley,” I added quickly.

My speech was now outpacing my life decisions.

“And I’m not going to be manipulated by you anymore, okay? Because you know how hard I work, you know how much I give to this store every day but Wannabe-Nordstrom isn’t my life, okay? I am not living the life I want to live every single day—so that’s my life, okay?”

Were ordinary people in the Soviet Union this unhappy? Has anyone ever bothered to ask them?

The only thing I ever knew how to do around Brenda was say whatever I needed to say to make her feel comfortable.

Like seagulls exploding out of a cove, that was the only thing Brenda ever seemed to value: her personal comfort. I don’t remember how Brenda looked in that moment. She kept darting her eyes between Better Homes & Gardens and the floor, and her glasses were foggy. I gazed at Brenda with a falcon’s stare and said:

“Think of last night as my last straw.”

It’d be worth it, you know.

It’d be worth it to suspend my gym membership for a few months to see Brenda have to swallow the fruits of her own disorder. I hadn’t coaxed Brenda into reacting the way she did to Ashley’s request—I had only coaxed Ashley into talking to her, and that was a sincere act of friendship: “You have to stand up for yourself with people like that, Ashley.”

“That’s easy for you to say, Brenda and you are like best friends.”

“We are not.”

“You have her wrapped around your little finger, Nina.”

“No I don’t,” I said, and then I hit Ashley’s face with a big fat pillow until feathers fell out, which of course never happened because Ashley and I don’t have open and honest conversations about anything. All Ashley said was “You’re probably right,” and I could sense in Ashley’s eyes that she was perceptive enough to understand I was probably wrong—but even I couldn’t pick that up, at least not consciously, so in a way, Ashley doomed herself by failing to correct me.

I was Brenda’s star employee and everybody knew it.

I’ve been an A student all my life.

I’m the picture of good anger management.

Management hates it when you quit. That’s the one thing you can still lord over them, even during a recession (and July 2022 in America was anything but)—replacing an employee costs time, and time is money. Every store manager knows that—even Brenda (her management woes don’t source back to her inability to optimize).

And then Brenda said something so stupid that for a second I almost thought she was parodying Gabby.

“I thought you and I could speak openly to each other.”

Brenda.

Girl.

Just because you tell me about the medications you take for your back problems doesn’t mean we’re friends.

Was this really happening right now?

“I don’t know what you expect me to say,” I told Brenda. “I did speak openly in the email.”

Was Brenda really buying into Ashley’s delusion that management and workers can be just friends?

Or was she just calculating that I—because I’m pretty—was stupid enough to buy into it too?

“Actually, no—the way you engage with others doesn’t seem intended to provide a pathway for sincere and open conversations. You have a ‘No Assholes’ policy that seems intended to make other people suppress their true feelings around you at all times, because anybody who contradicts you is automatically an asshole.”

I didn’t say that.

I just said: “It can be intimidating to speak to you sometimes.”

Even when you try to laugh with me about your muscle relaxants, I laugh back, but what I really want to say is “Brenda, a certain percentage of the population is going to have back problems, and you have given me no particular reason to care about yours.” I think again now about if Brenda and I were stuck on a deserted island. I’d probably have to save her life from the elements from time to time, and that’d build trust between us. “What we’d need to do is charter a plane somewhere, and have the plane crash. That’s the only way to resuscitate this relationship.”

“How many times have I told you, Nina, you can come to me about anything…” and before I could even respond, Brenda began comparing our dynamics to a mother-daughter relationship and I was one second away from saying, “Bitch, that’s your problem,” but I caught myself and said calmly:

“Brenda, that’s the problem.”

Brenda looked at me earnestly.

“Just, that right there—the word you used. I don’t think you really understand other people’s boundaries? I tell you obligatory anecdotes from my personal life because you specifically ask to hear them, not because I want to volunteer them—again, that’s how afraid I am of you, Brenda, because I don’t even feel like I have the right to tell you that my dating history is, actually, now that I think about it, none of your business. And then you lecture me about how I talk to my boyfriend? Again, because you asked to hear the details, and you actually make it so that now I’m thinking about my boyfriend at work instead of focusing on my job, which you then get mad at me for? I don’t think you really understand, Brenda, how your friendliness comes off when it’s mixed with so much—neediness, I don’t know, this need to control everything all the time—to make everything perfect.”

The first time I ever met Brenda, we got along so well that after our shift we went to a Red Lobster on the other side of the strip mall, where she bought me three milkshakes. I told her about growing up with my mom in a trailer park in Nevada and she told me about growing up with her mom in a trailer park in New Jersey—we laughed a lot that night. I don’t even remember what we laughed about, but we were both talkers, Brenda and I, we were both tellers, and we were both showers. I could tell after my first milkshake that Brenda must have floated in the margins of the sub-popular crowd in middle school, and she all but confirmed it on the second (she just had one of those I’ve seen it all energies).

“So how does it feel being back in the Northeast?”

“Honestly?” Brenda said, grabbing a French fry. “I’m ready.”

You couldn’t hear the ocean from where we were sitting, but you could hear a highway.

I understand Brenda.

I really do.

Sometimes at night, while I fantasized about quitting a company whose Corporate was famous for giving their employees vision and dental (and anyway, what else would I do besides marketing or retail? In what other way might I be called upon to serve the good people of America?), I’d climax with an image of Brenda sitting alone at home on a Thursday night (that was Brenda’s day off), crocheting to Fleetwood Mac, with a cat rubbing up against her ankle. The only mystery was how many paintings of beaches dotted her apartment.

I know Brenda doesn’t talk to her mother anymore (“Neither do I!” was probably one of our first laughs), and I’d fantasize about how much she probably secretly admired me—because I was pretty—because I could always talk my way into classes and parties she could only stare through the curtains of (I once helped Brenda create an account on Plenty of Fish), and now it was too late for her because she was already in her late forties or early fifties—and I?

I was bound for Cape Cod.

“What are the locals there like,” all summer long I used to wonder. I work at a Nordstrom now.

And I no longer wonder.

“Oh, sweetie—it’s called the Cape, not the Cod.”

Wasn’t that how she had said it?

Even in her most helpless moment, she was still so condescending—she was still just so frivolously condescending—I mean think about the stakes here, girl, you’re about to lose your star employee right before the back-to-school rush—was the poison dart worth it?

Was the poison tip worth it, Brenda?

“I don’t think it’s healthy for me to work here anymore,” I suddenly blurted out. “You’re not a good influence on me.”

“What can I say to make you stay just through September?”

It was so quick and direct that it snapped me instantly out of my sympathy spell.

Brenda.

There’s the Brenda I knew—Brenda, you’re back!

And you’re still holding onto threads in the air.

This store will dissipate, Brenda. Your job will dissipate, and then you’ll have to go right back out there again and sell your competence at another round on the roulette wheel. (Just don’t end up at another store that sells beauty supplies, Brenda—I don’t think you quite understand what they’re really telling the world.) “I don’t think there’s anything you can say, Brenda. I know how hard the last few months have been for you, and I thought very long and hard about doing this to you. But I have to prioritize my own mental health.”

“You know Charles is only giving me a year.”

Brenda said this with a vulnerability I had never heard from her before.

Her voice was like a child’s.

Guilt—it’s impossible to summon it for a person you’ve already dehumanized. Cockroaches die every day.

My subconscious was churning again—I would have a child with my boyfriend someday, and I would protect her from people like you, Karen McHiggins. “Brenda, you have the mental age of a child,” was what I really wanted to say to her. “When I fuck up at work, who do you think I go to? Nobody—do you understand that, Brenda, because adults take responsibility for their shit.”

But I would have to sugarcoat it, because someone with the mental age of an Abercrombie would be unable to understand that the powerful can’t be friends with the powerless, no matter how hard they tried—and someone with the mental age of an Abercrombie would also need everything sugarcoated for them.

“Brenda, I don’t know how to break this to you but there isn’t going to be any back-to-school rush! It’s not 2019 anymore—Covid killed retail. We don’t know whether we want to be bargain basement or high-end and the middle class is dead, everyone wants either a bargain or an experience! What did they teach you in that master’s program?”

Only I couldn’t say that either, because Brenda would somehow spin it into me losing my cool, which is the one thing I never do—I’ve been one thing and one thing only all my life, and that’s an A student.

“You’ve given your life to a dinosaur, Brenda—move on. Department stores are dead—this isn’t the ’80s anymore. Your image of America—it’s a façade, and I can prove it. It’s that picture of the lighthouse you keep behind your desk that you pilfered from returned merchandise, and I can prove that too. We’re like explorers in an uncharted land. Things are going to fall apart for us in ways we have no templates for, just like they did for all of the generations before us—only they weren’t as trapped inside the façade of returned merchandise as we are! Settled mores are changing. This century could still look like anything—it’s all up for grabs, and more and more people are just beginning to wake up to this new dawn. Maybe what you really need to do is start a YouTube channel. You have the voice for it, you have the charisma, and you have the storytelling abilities—we could all profit from hearing from your perspective, only nobody will because you’re not young, thin, or beautiful, but hey—it’s worth a shot! You’ll have a better chance there at the lighthouse than you do in retail.”

Only I didn’t say any of this either, because I knew Brenda couldn’t hear a word I was saying. Brenda was dead between the eyes—her soul died in middle school, and she’s been dragging the corpses of would-be lives ever since.

“You’re not a particularly smart or competent person, Brenda, and what’s happening right now speaks for itself. You didn’t just get unlucky, Brenda.”

Brenda once whistled to me when she saw me change into a sundress as I was leaving my afternoon shift—“Whose heart are you breaking tonight, Nina?”

“None of your business!” was what I wanted to tell her, but I wanted to let Brenda live vicariously through me—it was the only gentleness I could ever offer her.

“You know Charles is only giving me the year,” Brenda had said, and she was staring into the void now. I could feel her back pain. She had given her whole entire life to Not-Quite-Sephora, six days a week, and on most nights on my way to the restroom I could hear “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac playing from a small Bluetooth speaker. I looked at Brenda and said: “I have no idea what you want from me. It’s not my job to make you look any better than you are at your job. And I don’t know what your agreement with Charlie has to do with anything—in fact, I had lunch with him the other day.”

Brenda lifted her eyes.

“What?” she said stupidly.

“Oh, I’m sorry—I was trying to get a vacation approved. No, Brenda. I needed to talk to him about a few things.”

“What things?”

And then, before I could offer an answer, “What are you trying to say, Nina? Just spit it out!”

“You have a problem, okay? I’ve seen the way you’ve unraveled in the last few months—Gabby and Ashley are afraid of you, Chris is about to quit, literally nobody can handle your emotional volatility anymore. Everybody’s so short-tempered with each other all the time and coming to me for help, and it’s not my job to help them—that’s your job! You’ve created a situation where nobody can even talk to you. We just smile at you out of fear. You don’t command anybody’s respect—you know that, right? So we basically have to operate without a supervisor—you understand that, don’t you?”

It feels good to eat.

I no longer have a gym membership anymore. Instead, I jog every Tuesday and Friday at the public park.

“So yeah—so I guess I just thought it was about time Charlie heard all of this. He’s actually very reasonable if you talk to him in a reasonable way. He said he’d look into opening one or two more positions for us to cover the weekends. But you probably won’t be there to oversee it.”

Not-Quite Sephora was founded as a regional competitor to J.C. Penney in 1991. It never expanded beyond the Northeast, Minnesota, and California, and it’s about to die—it’s only a matter of time. Unless if maybe Corporate in Burlington saw the light and hired someone like me and actually listened to her ideas for turning all of their stores into “experiences,” which is what I’ve been trying to tell Brenda every time she questioned one of my lipstick arrangements. A lot of what I miss about middle school is the taste-test of freedoms I enjoy every day now as an adult: you build a friendship with the highest person who’ll take you in.

That’s how you climb a hierarchy.

Brenda looked at me like a wounded animal.

There really isn’t ambiguity, is there, about which one of us would survive if it were just you and me on a deserted island. A new recognition was forming inside of Brenda, and I didn’t want to be there to watch it settle in—you can’t treat people like you treated Ashley the other night in the stock room, this isn’t the ’80s anymore. Of course, Brenda was too obtuse to work out that I was only bluffing. The truth was, I had talked to Charlie briefly on the second floor, but he just told me to “put it all in an email,” and I knew he was never going to speak to Brenda long enough to ever contradict anything I had just said—Charlie’s not exactly the open type. Besides, Charlie did agree to look into hiring more part-timers, the way Charlie ever agrees to anything—by pretending it was his idea all along. “It’s the unreliability of when customers come in, that’s the problem,” Charlie had explained to me. (“Yes, that’s true. Unreliability is always the problem,” I told Charlie.)

You can’t rely on other people’s testimony when you ask them about Abercrombie Couture.

You have to come to me.

I’ve seen sides of Abercrombie that nobody else has.

“So what’s the dating scene like out here?” Brenda had asked me that first night at Red Lobster, while popping a French fry. I remember trying not to look at Brenda like she was serious. “It’s just men!” I remember laughing to Brenda in front of two tall glasses of milkshake. “It’s just a bunch of men—that’s the only way I know how to put it!”

And then Brenda in her black blazer and black pants laughed too.

Like we were girlfriends.

“I would’ve given you those vacation days, Nina,” Brenda finally said in a whisper. “If I had just understood that you knew what you were doing when you took them—what you were doing to the store—I would’ve given them to you.”

A new sincerity is trying to grow in the air all around us—I can hear its infant-screams, can’t you? (Couldn’t Brenda?) “Oh my God, Brenda. This is about so much more than whether or not I can go on one trip to Cape Cod.”

“That is all this is about to you, Nina, and don’t you pretend otherwise—”

“No, it isn’t.”

“—because you have a fancy boyfriend now.”

“Leave Connor out of this.”

I don’t really know where my life’s going to go after Cape Cod. Colson’s mental health—it causes collateral damage to people (Colson was one of Connor’s three friends that had stayed with us at the lake house). I don’t really think he understands that his actions have consequences on other people. He thinks I’m one of the popular kids who terrorized him in middle school, but the truth is—I’m just a little bit higher or lower on the pecking order than he is. All of us are—all of us down here. I can’t really bring myself to fully hate him for what he did, but then I remember what his life is and I do—I hate him by several orders of magnitude more than I ever hated Brenda. And what Colson and Brenda both have in common, of course, is their dripping self-pity: they’re both absolutely lacquered in it (what is it about competitive social environments that produces so much self-pity anyway, dripping like honey?). I didn’t have too much compassion for Colson when he asked me to feed some of his honey back to him with my fingers. “Money,” I wanted to tell him.

“How much money you have is an easy way to tabulate what your self-pity is worth to me.”

But to be honest, I couldn’t even lift a finger to care.

Cape Cod was only four days ago, but it’s already just another memory now—that’s how all of our weekends are bound to end. Several hundred more of these and then it’s lights out. Connor and I listened to the first season of Serial on the way up, and as we walked through Martha’s Vineyard later that afternoon, we saw fifty migrants from South America file onto a bus bound for a military installation.

There were cameras and cake everywhere.

We’re all participants in this gladiatorial contest to see who ends up in Cape Cod as the sun sets over our lives.

Colson recently wrote a book called A Stick of Dynamite in the American Elite.

I wish him luck.

I have plans for him, you know.

No matter what his next chess move is—I have a plan to stop him. I left Brenda alone in her office that day. I never learned where she went after she was dismissed from Not-Quite Sephora, all I remember is Ashley and Gabby coming over to hug me as I grabbed my purse from the break room, and they both quit two days later. It was because there’s something in my soul that doesn’t like to see other people are in pain—even people without souls like Brenda (Colson doesn’t count because he’s not really a human in my eyes, he’s more like a bad anecdote you shake off)—that I found myself hugging Brenda right before I said goodbye, holding her as she kept saying to me that I’d been like a daughter to her: “Brenda—Brenda, listen to me. My boyfriend has an ex-boyfriend whose stepmom also has a drinking problem, okay? Brenda—are you listening to me? They live in Westport…”

Cape Cod will die.

It’s only a matter of time before it collapses under the weight of its own contradictions. I sail America’s values like Leif Erikson now—other people have built their homes and comforts here, but I don’t mind. I wonder sometimes what Abercrombie Couture anesthetizes her listlessness to these days—HBO? Unsubtle affairs with younger men? “How long before mundane dehumanization bears fruit?” I smile to myself every day at Nordstrom, as I walk around the counter to deliver my customer’s parcels to them personally.

I see Abercrombie sometimes in the eyes of the women I help at Nordstrom. They’re all moms, and if that’s the final meaning of our lives—then yes, I agree.

Let’s all be moms.

You don’t know the Hell I’ll reign over America’s guilty class in the twenty-first century, but you will soon: I will mother the destruction of America’s guilded gilts into existence. I broke up with Connor this morning. Something about his reaction to Colson’s breakdown in Cape Cod just didn’t sit well with me—he couldn’t see through Colson’s insincerity, and that makes me think he might not have what it takes in this life to go where I’m trying to go. At my new job at the mall, I nibble on old memories like a woman who hasn’t eaten now in years. The last person I ate was my narcissistic mother in Nevada—she ruined my childhood—she was the Leif Erikson of my formative years—but then again?

So was my middle school.

College feels like a million years ago. My sorority sisters are all married with kids now. Mothers will do anything to protect their young.

#MeToo.

2022

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softtransbf · 4 years ago

Text

Mister Nice Guy, part 1

Summary: You’re new to the BAU and get along well with everyone, almost. You can’t figure out why the infuriatingly handsome Dr. Spencer Reid seems to hate you so much.

Word Count: 2222

Reader: Trans man, he/him pronouns, no physical description.

Warnings: Alcohol, brief description of a case and therefore murder. Nothing graphic.

(Part two)

~~~~~~~~~~

It was your first day at the BAU, and you were so excited. It took all of your willpower not to skip from the elevator to your new boss' office. You definitely caught a sideways glance from an incredibly handsome man with very expressive eyebrows, but you didn't let it concern you; you'd worked too damn hard for too damn long to let anyone bring you down today. You got to the door and knocked sharply.

"Agent L/N, please, come in," came a voice from inside the room. You took a deep breath and walked through the door.

You'd heard stories about Aaron Hotchner and the BAU- everyone had. Most people only heard the good parts- the heroic tales, the happy endings. But you liked to be prepared, to know the truth of what you were going after, so you'd also paid attention to the quieter whispers. The imposing boss who never smiles, the weird and maybe-pseudo-sexual relationship between the exuberant tech analyst and one of the profilers, the betting pool on whether or not the two female profilers were secretly gay for each other, true crime writer extraordinaire and profiling legend David Rossi leaving retirement to mostly be snarky, and the young agent with multiple doctorates who is smarter than seems humanly possible. You would never admit it, but you were particularly eager to meet the genius. He guest lectured once in your friend's linguistics class your last semester before graduating, and xe wouldn't shut up about him for an entire week. When you told xem that your transfer was approved, xe begged for "a full rundown on what he's like up close and personal" after your first case. But first, you needed to meet with SSA Hotchner.

"Please, take a seat." He gestured to the chairs in front of his desk.

"Thank you. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." You thanked your lucky star that your voice didn't shake.

"It's a pleasure to have you. I heard nothing but the best about you from your previous supervisor. Officially, all the paperwork has gone through for your transfer, but I would like to ask a couple of questions before we get started."

"Of course, sir. What would you like to know?" One corner of his mouth ticked up slightly for a fraction of a second, and you counted that as a major victory.

"First and foremost, why are you interested in the BAU?" You relaxed slightly; you'd prepared for this question.

"Human behavior is nothing short of fascinating. Everyone is shaped by a unique set of experiences, but at the end of the day, we all behave in documented patterns. Everything matters, because it shapes who we are, but also nothing does, because we all end up in one of a finite number of 'shapes', so to speak. No one is the same, but we all exhibit set behavioral patterns. No matter what someone's gone through, at the end of the day, they are still understandable and predictable. I find that absolutely fascinating, and the work that the BAU does with that is incredible. I want to be a part of it, and I have the skill and drive to do so. After all, the BAU essentially wrote the handbook for Crisis Negotiation."

"That is a very interesting perspective, agent." His face was neutral, but you detected approval in his tone. "I only had one other matter to bring up- I see two different first names in your paperwork, and two of your references refer to you with different pronouns. Which name do you prefer, and what are your pronouns?"

You were floored; you'd never had a supervisor so casually look past paperwork outing you. "Y/N, sir, and he/him/his."

"Wonderful. Well, Y/N, welcome to the BAU. Let's go meet the team, shall we?" You nodded and followed him out his door into the meeting room, where the rest of the team was assembled.

"Everyone, this is Special Agent Y/N L/N. He has just transferred from Crisis Negotiation."

"Oh! New guy! Hi hi hi! I'm Penelope Garcia, just call me Penelope, and I do all the tech-y, research-y stuff." She made her way across the room to you as she spoke, talking with her hands.

"Pleasure to meet you, Penelope! I love the look you're rocking, by the way. Those shoes in particular are magnificent." You knew you were being the gay sterotype that you'd spent your career trying to avoid, but shoes that good could not go uncomplimented.

"Oh my goodness, thank you!" she said to you before stage-whispering to the rest of the team, "I like him! Let's keep him." The team laughed, and you blushed. It seemed that Hotchner had wordlessly passed on the duties of making the introductions to her, because she pointed to the agent closest to her, handsome-guy-with-the-eyebrows from earlier, and continued on.

"Okay, so, this is Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Jenifer Jareau, but we all call her JJ, David Rossi, and Dr Spencer Reid." They all nodded, smiled, and/or waved slightly when they were introduced, with the exception of Dr Reid, who looked almost like he was looking at a puzzle. You chalked the feeling in your gut it gave you to first-day nerves.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all, and I look forward to getting to know you all better as time goes on." You were addressing everyone, but something about the way Dr. Reid was staring at you made it difficult to look away from him for too long.

"Wonderful! Now, as much as I wish we could all chit-chat and get to know Y/N better, we do have a case. Last night, a body was found in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park."

The case was interesting, twin injustice collectors, one more mission oriented, the other interested almost entirely on experimenting with different forms of torture on the victims. The former, over the weeks between kills, had started dating one of the local detectives, neither of them knowing of the other's involvement in the case. You were there when that information came to light at the killer's arrest, and you were able to diffuse the situation, ensuring that no one was harmed.

On the flight back, Prentiss insisted on the whole team going out for drinks to welcome you to the team. Hotchner declined, because he needed to get back to Jack, and Rossi said he had "plans with Tony Bennett", but everyone else agreed, mostly enthusiastically. It took significant persuasion from JJ to get Reid to agree to go out with you all. For the whole case, he was abrupt and distant with you, despite your best efforts. You knew it was silly, but you really wanted your coworkers to like you, so you decided you were going to do your absolute best to get him to like you by the end of the night.

"Hey, doc, first round's on me. What'll it be?" You'd noticed during the case that he shrugged off all of your attempts to start a conversation, but you figured that even he wouldn't ignore you under these circumstances.

"Uh, white wine would be great, thanks."

"White wine? At a dive bar? Does this bar even have white wine?" You'd intended to be charming, but, seriously, white wine? Who was this guy?

He opened his mouth, clearly indignant, but he was interrupted by Morgan chuckling from behind you both.

"That's why we go to this dump, newbie. It's the only bar in the area that serves white wine, which is all Pretty Boy here drinks." He winked at you and playfully elbowed Reid in the ribs.

You threw your hands up in mock surrender and chuckled. "Okay, okay, white wine for the good doctor it is. What's your poison? I'm sure word's gotten around that the first round is on me."

"You know, I might have heard something about that, and I most definitely wouldn't say no to a dirty martini." He winked at you, and your chuckle turned into full-on laughter.

You got the bartender's attention and ordered their drinks and a Jack and Coke for yourself. "It's a damn shame you're straight, Derek. Truly a crime against queer men everywhere, although I'm not so proud I can't admit that I'm a bit glad you're not competition."

"Wait wait wait, how do you know I don't like a little meat on the side?"

"So, sidestepping the fact that not all men have penises and some women do, you are so hetero that it's almost painful. Look around; men of all shapes and sizes outnumber women 2 to 1 at least. But you've spent the whole night making eyes at those women over there." You pointed to a table on the other side of the room. "Plus, I may or may not have received a very detailed string of texts from Penelope that essentially amounted to a crash course on all of y'all. I get a feeling that she might like me a little bit."

"My bad on the meat comment- I'll definitely fix that. And speaking of Penelope being a font of information, she's been uncharacteristically tight-lipped about you. What's your big secret, new guy?"

You raised an eyebrow and sipped your drink. "All you need to know is that Hotch, who strikes me as even more protective of this team than he lets on, which is really saying something, knows, and he cares less than any brass I've ever met. And I know for a fact that if Penelope thought it was concerning, she'd have at least voiced some suspicions about me, if not told you outright. I'm not ashamed of it, it's just none of y'alls business. Anyway, the blonde from the table you were eyeing earlier is coming over to see if we've been flirting this whole time so she knows whether to flirt with you or gush about how she's always wanted a Gay Best Friend oh my god. If I'm still here, it'll be both, and I'm allergic to that particular brand of cishet nonsense. Have fun, good-lookin'." You chuckled and patted him on the shoulder as you left, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Reid roll his eyes, down his drink, and walk in the other direction. What is his deal? Whatever. I'm not about to let him wet blanket all over tonight. You took out your phone and sent out a couple of quick texts.

[To: Penelope]: Thank you for not outing me. It means the world to me. Let's get brunch sometime?

[To: Nerd <3]: you sure Reid seemed pleasant when he lectured? that has Not been my experience with him so far. you were right about him being Cute cute, though, damn. a Gay could get lost in those big brown eyes, and in different circumstances I'd climb him like a tree. shame he's Like That lmao

Looking up from your phone, you saw Emily and JJ nearby, so you went over to join them.

"Oh em gee Y/N you're gay? I had, like, no idea! We should, like, totally get brunch and then go shopping! This is gonna be so much fun; I've always wanted a gay best friend!" You rolled your eyes and laughed at Emily's terrible Valley Girl accent. "Unfortunately, I did not spend my time in the closet learning anything about clothes. I only dress halfway decently for work because my friend dragged me to the mall and updated my wardrobe when I applied for this position. It's all xir doing."

"Well, xe has excellent taste." You mentally filed away JJ's effortless use of neopronouns.

"I'll be sure to let xem know! I'm so down for brunch, though." You checked your phone. "Looks like Garcia is too!"

"Damn, you work fast. You'll fit right in here," Emily laughed.

"Honestly, I'm a little bit blown away by how awesome and welcoming you all are. Well, mostly. Is Spencer like this with every new person, or did I somehow do something to offend him?" Emily and JJ shared a look you couldn't quite read before JJ answered.

"Spencer…" she hesitated, "He's going through something right now. I'm sure he'll figure it out soon, and things will smooth out."

So you waited. Weeks passed, and you fit in well with the team. You ended up getting close to Derek and Penelope in particular, and you kept trying to make nice with Spencer. Weeks of cold shoulder and as few words as possible to you while being his normal, verbose self with everyone else. So, three weeks into your new job, on a night out with Derek and Penelope you made a decision.

"Look. It's been weeks, and the guy still won't say more than 5 words to me. I'm done trying to… I don't know what I was even trying to do," you slurred, you’d probably had one drink too many. "Make a friend, maybe? I don't even know. But I'm done. He wants to give taciturn bordering on rude? Then that's what he'll receive. Let's see how Pretty Boy likes a taste of his own medicine. No more Mister Nice Guy." You wouldn't remember the look they shared until much later.

And so, your silent war with Spencer truly began.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x male reader #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #otp: pretty boys

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3laxx · 3 years ago

Text

Built to Last - Chapter 1

Amity hadn't dreamed to spend her summer like this. She had just graduated from a prestigious private school and had hoped she could escape to her own little adventure until her scholarship at the college starts, but instead, her parents decide to pimp up her résumé and make her a supervisor at their newest little project, a mansion in the middle of nature. She would rather be anywhere else, yet as she meets Luz Noceda, she finds construction work very interesting, all of a sudden. And that's totally not due to the fact that Luz is all her gay dreams coming true.

Heya people! I'm back with a new story!

One of my bigger projects at the moment and one of the reasons why I haven't been uploading for over a month xD I started working in my new job! Also got my first paycheck already! And I've been writing A LOT ever since the start of September! So yeah, this is kind of inspired by my work and I've written quite a bit for this already. It's basically just Luz being hot, Amity being gay, and a lot of mad blushes x)

Ao3 / FF.net

---

As Amity’s car came to a stop, she sighed, before pulling the handbrake and looking up to the mansion that was standing in front of her.

Or rather, the structural work she could see. While the shape of the mansion was already erected, with the base and all the walls out of sturdy concrete standing, there was still a lot to do.

Her parents had decided to build a giant new mansion in the middle of a huge land they had purchased, full of forest and beautiful scenery, and it was on her to oversee the construction.

It wasn’t that Amity had any idea how construction worked.

Her parents were on a business trip, like almost all her life long, and her siblings were in the middle of their studies, and focusing on this was of the utmost importance in the Blight household.

Amity was twenty now and had just graduated from an expensive private school her parents had sent her to, to enable a scholarship at a very renowned university.

So, essentially, her summer had been meant to be free and be spent by maybe relaxing for once, maybe even traveling a little, but since her mother detested holes in her résumé, she had to be kept busy somehow.

This meant that her position in overseeing the progress on their new mansion project was registered as “construction project management” and she was required to at least show up once a day and stay for a few hours.

She knew exactly what her parents' plan was.

They believed workers worked twice as fast and neatly when the customer was standing right behind them and monitoring their progress personally.

In short, her parents believed in intimidation.

It really wasn’t Amity’s style to be a fearmonger and do nothing more than to annoy the workers and create tension in their workspace. It was an issue of trust, that Amity had in the companies her parents had hired, but her parents didn’t and she couldn’t understand why.

After years of being monitored down to the littlest detail, she knew out of experience that someone breathing down her neck wasn’t something that helped along with productivity, quality, or speed.

But her parents had put her name on the project, it was all over everyone’s plans and she was an official member of the board overseeing this construction.

It wasn’t mandatory for her to show up to the site in her job description, nor was it mandatory for her to oversee any progress. But her parents had made sure to let her know what they expected of her before they had left. Amity hated that she was so intimidated by her parents to fulfill their wishes even if they weren’t here, even if she wasn’t sure if they were still on the same continent, but she was and so she had driven up here every single day and seen the mansion be built up completely in a matter of a month. Well, construction had already started when she had still been in school, so she hadn’t seen all of it.

Her parents had done that, of course.

Sighing, she got out of the car and headed up to the mansion, located on a little hill, towering above the giant property. It was a holiday getaway, her parents had insisted, even if she believed it was more to house some high-ranking guests, maybe some politicians her parents paid, to get in their good graces.

She mostly had that theory because she couldn’t remember the last time her parents had taken a genuine break from their work. Granted, sometimes they traveled to some holiday homes or some luxury hotels, but even these were sprinkled by meeting someone, having a friendly round of golf to discuss business and such things.

Her parents never acted without their business in the back of their heads.

Shaking her head, Amity freed her thoughts of her parents. She didn’t want to think of them. Coming in a few months she would move far away from them, actually near where they were building this mansion right now, and start her studies. And then she would only have to deal with them whenever they cooked up another business thing and roped Amity in, or at family holidays to keep the illusion of a happy family. She was just glad her siblings would be there with her.

Today, the interior design team would start.

The structural work was done, as far as it went, as were all the systems in place like heating, water, and gas.

Now, they had commissioned a fairly small local company building luxury interiors to do all the decorating in the entire house with floors, walls, ceilings, doing all the interior design of the sanitary rooms and kitchen, as well as all built-in furniture and whatever else Amity could think of.

It wasn’t that Amity knew what was necessary for the installation of everything, but she had self-taught quite a lot of theory through videos online due to a personal interest of hers and at least had an idea of what they were talking about.

Not that she let them in on that.

Whenever she had been there overseeing construction of the structural work, she had done her best to make herself appear as clueless as she could without sounding dumb, so they would be able to relax a little more.

If someone was looking over your shoulder who had no idea what you were doing anyway, it’d always feel more relaxed.

She hoped to at least relieve some of the intended intimidation meant by her parents.

Approaching the estate, she already saw some of her colleagues looking in her direction, some of the actual project managers, and a new site manager that she didn’t know yet. She had long black hair and a relatively tall statue, as well as a rigid posture. She was wearing a suit, too.

Did someone tell her Amity was coming?

If so, and she had decided to wear a suit just for her, that’d be embarrassing.

She appeared to acknowledge her arrival but turned back to another site engineer that Amity hadn’t had the pleasure of being introduced to yet. She looked very similar to the other one, only that her hair was really long, gray, and in a rather messy ponytail.

She also wore work pants and a simple shirt with the name of the company printed on the back and, smaller, on the chest. Amity immediately recognized the symbol on the woman’s chest as the one printed on the van next to them as well, which was a stylized owl, and read Clawthorne Sisters beneath it.

Amity had been excited for them to arrive. Now that the concrete was in place, all the drywall installations were finished and all the necessary cables and pipes were installed, the interesting part would begin. Making everything look like a home, instead of a palace of concrete and ugly pipes.

Or, well…

A house. Make it look like a house, instead of a skeleton. This mansion would never become home to anybody.

Finally arriving at the front door, Amity greeted all the project managers, engineers, and architects she already knew, who didn’t show up every day but had only come here to oversee the start of the interior design, before turning to the tall woman with a clipboard and strikingly green eyes.

“Good morning, my name is Amity Blight.”, she started and held out a hand to the woman, whose eyebrows shot up at the mention of her last name. Apparently, nobody had told her that she would be coming and Amity felt relief flooding her veins when she realized that this site manager had not dressed up for her.

“Lilith Clawthorne, it’s my pleasure.”, she greeted back and they shook hands, before she turned to the other, an equally tall woman next to her.

“This is Edalyn Clawthorne, site engineer and master mechanic of our company. You may direct any questions you have about plans, time management and schedules at me, and any technical questions at her.”, Amity nodded to that and shook the other woman’s hand as well. They seemed to be the sisters after which the company was named.

“Alright, good to know.”, she said but didn’t continue any further, so she just listened to the project managers talk for a while, before looking around and finding the master mechanic missing.

The site manager seemed to notice this.

“If you like, Miss Blight, we can head inside and oversee the progress since this morning.”

To that, Amity nodded, although a feeling of dread pooled in her stomach.

This meant producing the stress her parents wanted. They had explicitly instructed the project managers to inform their workers not to address them or interrupt their tour in any way.

In Amity’s experience, this had always resulted in tensions.

But Ms. Clawthorne was already heading inside and everyone else stepped back to let Amity in first, so she followed.

Just after the door, they each took a helmet from a prepared stand and put it on, since there would be overhead installation going on and the Clawthorne Sisters company had insisted on everyone, without exception, to wear a helmet. That had just made them all the more attractive to Amity, while she already held them in high regard judging from their portfolio and versatility in interior design and luxury decorations.

As expected, the conversations between some workers installing a floor in the entrance area quickly died out and they hunched over, focusing on their task ahead. They stopped as Ms. Clawthorne began explaining how these natural floorboards would be imported for them, ground and finished to feel natural yet soft, while Amity began looking around.

There were a lot of new faces around here since the Clawthorne Sisters had brought all their workers and replaced the construction crew almost completely, safe for a few left-over workers who cleaned up the last of their work and deconstructed some equipment they had used.

Amity mostly noted how young most of them were.

The entrance area was manned by two boys, maybe even younger than her, who were doing some of the easier tasks, managing wires to be hidden by the floorboards by tying them together and treating some sealed pipes. Down the hallway she saw a girl, around her age, managing some wires in the walls and making sure everything was neat and orderly for the wall decorations to be installed on top.

Taking a few steps away from the planning team, she peeked into the main lobby and saw three more people, two boys, and a girl, rearranging some supplies and equipment they had brought to be stashed in the wide space and not be in anyone’s way, looking just a bit older than her.

“Huh…”, she felt herself mumbling, before turning back and feeling all eyes on her as she returned to the group, immediately feeling a blush rising.

“Is everything to your expectations, Miss Blight?”, Ms. Clawthorne asked and she was quick to nod.

“Oh, yes, everything is alright!”, she was quick to assure, but the piercing eyes of the site manager quickly realized there was a question forming, so Amity seized the opportunity, “Just… I’ve seen a lot of workers my age. Do you usually employ younger workers?” To her surprise, Ms. Clawthorne smiled at that, something she hadn’t expected to see today when she had seen the slight scowl she always seemed to wear on her lips.

“We’ve had a few workers leaving the company for their retirement lately, and my sister and I strongly agree to encourage and support the younger generations to get an education in handicrafts. We have assembled a strong team of young employees and trainees for our company and they’ve proven to be very reliable, you can be assured.”

Amity nodded at that and quickly jumped in to reassure that her question wasn’t meant as a critique or concern.

“Oh, I wasn’t worrying! I think that’s very progressive.”, she quickly said and earned a nod from Ms. Clawthorne, giving her the feeling that she had just risen in her respect before the group continued walking through the mansion. Ms. Clawthorne pointed out a few things, explained some others, and they gradually lost more and more project managers and architects to discuss plans in more detail, until just Ms. Clawthorne and Amity were left to walk through the upper level, talking about some decoration elements that would be installed up here in the master bedroom, their conversation having turned rather relaxed and almost amicable after they left all the workers and other project planners behind and had some time to get to know each other better.

Until someone came stomping up the stairs rather loudly.

Ms. Clawthorne, Lilith, as she had assured her, immediately stiffened up and Amity turned to locate the commotion, seeing a tall girl her age come barreling up the stairs with some boards on her shoulder, a wide grin on her face with white teeth that shone against her dark skin in the contrast, as she jogged up the last few steps.

The girl turned, the boards swinging around, and suddenly, Amity saw the boards coming her way, right at the height of her face.

Seemingly just before impact, the girl gave the boards a nudge while Amity was already ducking her head, and a cheerful voice that sounded like it was laughing a lot in her life, sounded.

“Whoops! Duck!”, she exclaimed and the boards went right over Amity’s head, bonking her helmet, before she dared to look up again, watching the girl stopping right in front of her, still turned sideways not to have the boards that she was balancing on her shoulder trying to decapitate Amity again.

“Woah there, that was almost bad! You good?”, the girl chuckled, her not-so-scrawny shoulders shaking in delight, before giving Amity’s helmet a knock with her knuckles. Her ears were almost ringing from the knocking and she ducked her head again, only then did the girl let off, “That’s what the helmets are for!”

Amity managed a nod but the girl was already walking past her, whistling a happy tune, while waving her hand back at them.

“Sorry again!”, she called, before rounding the corner and apparently finding a coworker of hers with which she began talking, her voice carrying away the further she went.

The young Blight was embarrassed to admit that she had stared after her toned forearms and biceps, her slim calves, and her back long after she had vanished behind a wall.

Slowly, Amity could relax her shoulders again and straightened back up, adjusting her helmet, and turning back to Ms. Clawthorne. To claim she was furious was probably an understatement.

Her entire face with a rather fair skin tone was flaming while she looked after where the girl had gone and she was shaking in anger.

Turning away from Amity, probably to shield her from her voice, she yelled after the girl, raising her fist.

“LUZ NOCEDA, COME BACK HERE RIGHT THIS INSTANT!!”, she yelled and Amity couldn’t deny she had flinched before the melodic voice with the slightest Spanish accent called back.

“Just a moment, Lily! Be right there!”, she faintly called, but Amity couldn’t focus. All she could think about was her name that she had just learned, and she swore she wouldn’t forget it.

Luz Noceda.

“You wanted to talk to me?”, the girl, Luz, grinned as she came back, this time without boards, and propped her hands upon her waist. Only now, Amity could get a proper look at her.

She felt her heart speeding up when she took in her whole appearance. Luz was wearing worn-out safety shoes, some loose-fitting shorts, and a dark pullover with the company’s logo printed on her chest with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows, as well as a toolbelt and a helmet on her brown, sweaty, and very messy hair.

Her face was cute and looked like she was a lot of fun to be around, her brown eyes sparkling with joy about something she had just experienced, maybe a joke with a coworker, judging from the volume at which she had been laughing downstairs and down the hall.

Well, Amity had known she was gay, but that gay?

Gulping, she took in the girl in front of her that was about half a head taller than her, then she flinched at Ms. Clawthorne’s voice winning in volume again.

“Luz Noceda! First of all, workplace safety! You know exactly to check your way when carrying big loads. And second of all, you apologize immediately! Do you know who-”

Luz seemingly shrunk more and more with each word her boss was yelling at her, and since she couldn’t bear watching that bubbliness being suppressed like this, Amity acted unthinkingly and cut into her tirade, holding out her hand.

“I’m Amity. Pleasure to meet you.”, she quickly exclaimed, a little louder than planned to interrupt Ms. Clawthorne, but her speaking up had an immediate effect.

The older woman next to her gulped the rest of her sentence and switched her gaze from Luz down to Amity, staring silently.

In contrary to her boss, Luz was apparently delighted. Immediately, her shoulders straightened again and she took Amity’s hand after taking off her glove, grinning.

“Luz. Sorry for slamming the boards on your head, I’ll take better care next time. You the architect’s intern or something?”, she replied while shaking Amity’s hand and she giggled, shaking her head, paying Ms. Clawthorne no mind while she started getting angry again, ready to make Luz three heads shorter.

“No, I’m-… Doesn’t matter.”, she laughed, waving it off, “A-And, uh, don’t worry about the boards, that’s why we wear helmets.”

Luz gave her the finger guns and clicked with her tongue, before pulling on her glove again.

“Alright then, have a lot of fun planning or whatever you guys do, I’ll do more interesting stuff.”

She winked and Amity could’ve sworn she was flirting with her. Which completely distracted her from the fact that Ms. Clawthorne’s eyelid was already twitching in uncontrolled rage.

While Luz sauntered off, Amity caught the attention of her boss again, eager not to let her be too mad at her employee. Trying a careful approach to change the topic, she softly clapped her hands together, winning back Ms. Clawthorne’s attention.

“So… I believe we haven’t talked about the bathrooms yet, am I correct?”, she inquired and Ms. Clawthorne immediately switched back to her polite way, nodding stiffly.

“Yes, Miss Blight, right this way.”, she offered Amity to walk ahead and led her down the same hallway Luz had gone, and she couldn’t stop herself from peeking inside the room Luz and a coworker of hers were preparing to work on, catching a glimpse of Luz’s toned calves flexing when she stood on her tiptoes to mark something on the wall.

Unfortunately, the door went by quickly and she couldn’t see much more of her when she had already walked past, before having to turn back to the topics her parents wanted her to discuss. Which was a lot drier planning and listening and trying to visualize complicated construction plans.

It really wasn’t that Amity wasn’t interested in learning all of this. She loved hearing about construction projects and planning where to put elements to create a harmonizing room.

But now that she had seen Luz?

Well, it wasn’t that Amity was overly starved of seeing attractive people. There were a lot of attractive people in her close environment, some of her friends for example and she couldn’t deny that most of her family’s acquaintances were fairly good-looking as well.

But something about Luz had fascinated her.

The way she moved, the way she was covered in dust and sweat and had still smelled kind of good. The way her eyes were sparkling and how she was so comfortable in her own skin, walking through her life as if she was exactly in the place where she wanted to be.

Amity was fascinated by the honest and self-assured way she was moving, behaving, and acting.

And, well, there was the fact that Luz was just ridiculously attractive to her.

She sure as hell wouldn’t forget the way her white teeth shone against her dark skin and how her muscles moved and-

“I’m afraid I must ask you to excuse me, Miss Blight.”, a firm voice suddenly interrupted her thinking and she looked up from the plan Ms. Clawthorne had spread on a nearby table, only then hearing the ringing of a phone. Mutely nodding, Amity took a step back to grant her some privacy and tried to look back at the plan, making some sense of what she saw. It was some kind of cover for the bathtub, she believed. Or was it for the sinks?

Internally groaning, she shook her head to herself. If she hadn’t spent dreaming about Luz the entire time she would have an idea of what Ms. Clawthorne had been explaining to her and she’d be able to work out what the plan was about.

But, as luck would have it, she got off her phone and turned to her with an apologetic face.

“I’m very sorry, Miss Blight, but I’ll have to cut our tour short here. Some of my workers have started laser measuring the walls downstairs and I��m afraid I have to join them and the architect to work out the plans for that. Do you need me to bring you back to the front door?”

Her chance!

Quickly, Amity shook her head and smiled.

“Oh, no thanks! I will look around a bit more and get back to you before I leave, thank you.”, she excused the woman and without missing a beat, the site manager nodded and left her to her own devices.

It wasn’t that Amity had wanted her to go, but now she could maybe sneak a peek at the attractive worker, Luz, again…?

Tempted to slap herself, she furrowed her eyebrows.

Spying on workers?

How shameful. She shouldn’t do that.

Humming, Amity turned to wander out of the bathroom-to-be and down the hallway again, hearing voices getting louder the closer she drew to the room where she had seen Luz starting her work. But instead of spotting the ridiculously attractive girl, she was met by her rather sturdy coworker with slightly chubby cheeks, a kind face, and dark hair, along with the dark-skinned boy she had seen in the entrance hall already. They both talked quieter when they noticed her wandering past and Amity picked up her pace to be out of their hair as quickly as possible again.

She wondered where Luz had gone.

Maybe she had gone downstairs again to get more boards?

Amity decided that checking it out wouldn’t hurt, so she walked downstairs, past some more surprisingly young workers and some of the management board nodding to her politely, before stepping out of the entrance area again into the fresh air and breathing through.

Behind her, the work was picking up and she began hearing a drill hammering into some concrete, as well as a saw somewhere around the mansion, but she didn’t think much of it, the air was feeling way too nice after walking through the dusty construction site.

Wait a minute…

She had seen Luz carrying up boards from below. Maybe she had cut them to length?

More out of curiosity than anything, Amity stepped off the porch and rounded the mansion, peeking around a corner, only to spot the very same girl she had found herself losing her concentration to upstairs, standing by some trestle legs on which she had placed boards, cutting them with a circular saw. She looked very concentrated and was wearing some ear protection now, as well as some glasses to protect herself from the saw dust.

Amity clenched her hand around the corner of the house when she felt her heart speeding up, licking her lips when she saw how Luz was leaning forward a bit more, the muscles on her elbow coming out.

She wasn’t overly muscular or anything, and Amity didn’t like bodybuilder types anyway, but it showed that Luz had worked in this field for quite some time already, and with being on constructions like this one, she probably got all the workout she needed just by working.

Humming, Amity finally decided to stop being a creep and pretend to be on her phone like a normal human, pulling it out to pretend and tap on it a little while walking out from the corner.

She did her best to appear busy on her phone, but Luz didn’t even acknowledge her.

Better for her, because she could keep staring.

Out of the corner of her eyes, Amity could see the saw dust covering Luz’s forearms, giving them a slight sheet of dust, and she wished she could be closer to watch her cutting those boards in more detail.

But this was getting really creepy. She should stop.

Shaking her head, Amity groaned and looked up to the sky, before shooting Luz one last glance and walking back to the entrance area, putting her phone away.

Maybe she could talk to her someday. Or just listen to her again.

Grumbling to herself, Amity did one last tour of the whole house, waiting and hoping for her confidence to build up again to talk to the cute girl, but when she had walked past Ms. Clawthorne a second time, she supposed she had to wave that wish goodbye.

Bidding her goodbyes to all the members of the project management board, she walked back to her car and sat in the driver’s seat, defeated.

Now she had had the chance to have normal conversations here, the entire mansion was full of young workers instead of moody old men, and she had blown it. She could only hope Luz would be there tomorrow.

Sending a last, longing gaze to the now-abandoned saw sitting on the trestle legs, she started her car and put it in reverse.

Either this had been it or she would have another chance tomorrow.

For now, this was enough for her. But this evening she would deeply regret leaving without having tried anything because when she lied down to sleep, the pictures of an unfairly attractive girl working at the site wouldn’t leave her mind alone.

---

“LUZ NOCEDA!”, a voice yelled from downstairs just before the evening and the young woman currently handling the last of the wires listened up.

“Oh, that sounded like Lilith.”, she noted and Willow snorted.

“Ya think?”, she asked and Luz grumbled when she got up, shooting Willow a look.

“I don’t need your sass right now, Willow.”, she shot back at her friend who just snickered, shaking her head before going back to drilling holes into the boards for tomorrow.

“COME DOWN HERE RIGHT THIS INSTANT!”, made both of them flinch, causing Luz to duck her head.

“You better go, she sounds seriously angry.”, Willow shooed Luz with a handwave, putting her drill into position again.

Luz quickly made her way out of the room and down the hallway towards the stairs, where she already saw Lilith standing at the base of them.

Gulping, she made her way down and Lilith glared at her, making her grimace.

“Uh, yes?”, she sheepishly responded, already scared of what she had done wrong when Lilith turned and waved her to follow. Oh, this was bad.

If she didn’t want to scold her in front of everyone, she was going to get the harshest yelling she had ever gotten. Lilith led her outside, before turning back to the young woman and holding out her finger, her face uncharacteristically red.

“Do you have any idea what you did today?!”, she hissed and Luz pulled up her shoulders, eyes wide.

“Did-… Did I, uh, what did I do?”, she carefully asked, but that only seemed to explode Lilith’s rage.

“You embarrassed us IN FRONT OF OUR CUSTOMER!!”, she finally yelled and Luz could already feel all eyes on her while her coworkers gathered on the windows to watch where the yelling had come from.

“O-Our customer?”, Luz ducked her head more when Lilith got redder.

“YOU SLAMMED BOARDS ON HER HEAD, YOU IDIOT!!”, she screamed and Luz’s heart dropped into her pants. So that fancy-dressed had been because she had been the customer.

Oh.

Oooooh.

She had… She had bonked boards on her head and then knocked on her helmet. On their… On their million-dollar assignment customer.

Gulping, Luz sunk into herself more. She had absolutely blown their assignment, hadn’t she? She had just lost the company a couple Million dollars, she had gotten all of her coworkers fired, she’d pay compensation for the rest of her life, she would-

“You’re lucky she wasn’t hurt!! This could’ve gone very differently! I don’t know what kind of guardian angel you blackmailed to look over you, but if this had been Odalia Blight you would’ve been dead and the company along with you!!”, Lilith got closer to her and her screaming suddenly dropped to a very dangerous whisper, “If this hadn’t been the daughter of our customer, I would’ve killed you on the spot. You’re lucky she’s a lot nicer than her mother.”

Gulping, Luz leaned back a little.

“I-I’m not fired…?”, she tried and Lilith finally found back to her normally pale skin color, adjusting her suit.

“Your mother and my sister would have my head if I fired you. Also, Miss Blight was very forgiving and didn’t cancel our assignment, yet. We’re allowed to continue working for now. Until that’s not clear, though, you better not step too far away from the hanging tree, because I will personally put the hangman’s noose around your neck if the Blights terminate that job. Is that understood?”, Lilith got dangerously close again and Luz gulped, rubbing her neck.

“Very graphically understood.”, she mumbled and Lilith glared at her one more time, before straightening back up and walking back to the construction site.

“If you speak to her again, it will be an absolute emergency and you will do so politely and with some respect and dignity. And now clear up your things, we’ll leave at five sharp and if you’re late you’ll sleep here.”

Grumbling, Luz patted her chest to attempt and soothe her beating heart, before running a hand through her dusty hair and shaking it out. This had been shorter than she had anticipated.

Once again rubbing over her neck, she then followed Lilith inside and sighed. She was looking forward to the days where the jobs would be mundane enough for Lilith to stay in the office and let Eda handle the coordination. Having Eda as her superior instead of Lilith was absolutely preferable.

Well, if she was lucky, she would have to focus on work so much she wouldn’t even have time to acknowledge Miss Blight anymore. Maybe she also wouldn’t come back tomorrow, after all, the rich and wealthy had other things to worry about, right?

Especially their customers, who were paying for this giant mansion.

Humming, she entered the building again and ignored all her coworkers looking at her, before starting to pack up the tools she had used and collecting her personal stuff, like her gloves and jacket.

Willow shot her a sympathetic glance and Luz clapped on her shoulder to reassure her that she was okay for now, then they all gathered around their bus to be taken back to the company so they could end the day.

The whole evening, though, Luz fretted going to work the next day, fearing the possible encounter with the Blight girl. Hopefully, she wouldn’t show up so Luz wouldn’t risk her head, her financial stability, and her dignity for all eternity.

---

Let me know what you think! <3

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gerec · 4 years ago

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Gerec’s Favorite Fics - 2020

A little early, but here’s a list of my favorite fics from this past year in no particular order. Hope you enjoy them as much I did! :D :D :D

Time the Preserver by MaxRobespierre

“Erik,” says the old man, looking directly at him, and, ah. Yes. That was why Erik stopped on his way back to the motel. His name, and the look in the old man’s eyes. He’s seen that look before, that depth of mourning. It’s not a look he likes to think about.

an empty hearth by Ireliss

The nighttime city, shrouded in fog.

(Logan works for Shaw, guarding his pretty young boyfriend. They grow closer than they should.)

Self-acceptance as an act of survival by winter_hiems

Charles and Erik get temporarily swapped into each other’s bodies.

Charles seems to be handling it.

He isn’t.

Four Funerals & A Wedding by midrashic

Four people who mourned Erik Lehnsherr, and one who didn't.

The Last Love Song & Testament of Charles F. Xavier by midrashic

When Erik is accused of domestic terrorism, Charles has no choice but to marry him to keep him out of jail.

The Marriage Bargain by kianspo

Erik Lehnsherr had made a fortune manufacturing steel in Europe. When he wished to expand to the New World, he discovered that no one would do business with him unless he was affiliated with one of the First Families, the creme de la creme of the NW aristocracy. When Lord Marko holds an auction to give away his 14-year-old stepson's hand in marriage, Erik sees his chance and takes it. He has no interest in Charles himself, but now that he has him, can they make it work?

Carry Me Anew (Frost & Darkholme Remix) by kianspo

While working as a model for Raven and Emma's clothing line, Erik experiences a strong attraction to his shoot partner. These things happen, except Erik has a boyfriend, who does not take this at all well.

linger like a tattoo kiss by ikeracity

Six months apart gives Erik a lot of time to think about what he really wants.

(Erik's POV from Carry Me Anew (Frost & Darkholme Remix) by kianspo)

Suddenly There'll Be a Blizzard (Let It Snow Remix) by kianspo

Charles was never at his best while jetlagged, but locking himself out in a snowstorm while barely dressed might be a new low. The last thing he expected was to be rescued by his high school nemesis, the man he hadn't seen in over ten years, who might have broken his heart for good once upon a time.

Once Upon a Time in the West by lachatblanche

Logan meets young, bright-eyed Francis in the run-down town of Charity while on the hunt for the notorious bank-robbers, the Xavier siblings, never for a moment dreaming that Charles Xavier is much nearer than he thinks ...

follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly by specficslut (homosociality)

Dr. Sebastian Shaw loves his job testing runaway omegas for fertility. Today, a boy named Erik is in the back of his medical van.

deeper than swords (the sun and stars remix) by specficslut (homosociality)

Erik has been traded to a foreign king for a chest of gold and a hundred bushels of grain. In Westchester, he must learn to start a new life... and navigate the roles that have been thrust upon him, whether concubine or courtesan, consort or slave.

The Shared Dream by TurtleTotem

Charles's cryo-pod malfunctions and wakes him up a century before everyone else. Will he spend the rest of his life alone on a ship full of sleepers? (A Passengers AU.)

Mr & Mr. Xavier-Lehnsherr by JackyJango

If you ask his late sister, she'd probably say that Charles had always had the hots for the bad boys.

Maybe it's true. Maybe that's how Charles had ended up willingly in their marriage bed. Maybe it's the ease with which Erik fights that had drawn Charles to him-- the confidence with which he uses his body to ensure maximum destruction, the fluidity with which he flares phasers as though they were an extension of his arm. Maybe Charles had been attracted to the grace with which Erik wielded his physical form in a way Charles would never be able to in his field of work. Maybe it's the aura that swirls around Erik for being the best mercenary on the planet. Or, maybe it’s just the roguishly handsome figure Erik cuts in a leather jacket and aviators with a cigarette caught loosely between his thin lips. The thing is, Charles doesn't know. And that's a tad antithetical coming from a man who had made knowing everything his job.

A Mr & Mrs Smith AU in Space!

We'll Show Them All by kaydeefalls

Pacific Rim AU. Ten years later, the monsters are back, and newly-instated Marshall Charles Xavier needs to pull a team together to prepare for the coming war. That means finding his talented sister a Drift-compatible copilot -- even if that turns out to be his old flame Erik.

Just One More Question by BelgianReader2, g33kyclassic

Erik meets Charles at Pub Quiz League and it is hate at first sight. But, his team does need a new member and Moira is insistent that Charles is just what they need.

Erik is not happy about Charles, despite his trivia skill. Can time change his opinion? What about an unexpected revelation or two?

To the tune of our souls by hllfire

Erik, the drummer and one of the lead singers of the band known as The Brotherhood, writes a song after being inspired by the words of a university professor called Charles Xavier — another big name in the mutant community, much like Erik himself — and he wants Charles' speech to be in his song.

The only problem is that Charles Xavier doesn't seem to agree with Erik's idea.

A Tale of Two Captains by ClarkeStetler, Goosenik

Charles Xavier had wanted to be on the ocean as far back as he could remember. He could remember toddling toward the shipyards as an infant, being snatched away by scolding parents just before he could touch the gleaming vessels. As he grew older, his attention never wavered from the prospect of living life on the seas. At twenty-one years of age, Charles and his ship had its first run-in with pirates, and he saw fit to protect his title and vessel as fiercely as he knew how.

Aka: a one-shot of Erik the pirate trying to ransom Charles the captain, but finding that Charles is a little hard not to get attached to.

I'm a bullet by Isolee (WIP) Since mother - since the house - since Cain - He's adapted. He can do anything. Now he wants something, and he suspects he might even deserve it. Or - Charles is sort-of a sex addict, and Erik is his married-with-family supervisor at Uni.

I'll Take You Down (The Only Road I've Ever Been Down) by kianspo

Tony and Emma are trying to help Charles get over a bad relationship. Many bad relationships, in fact, as Charles has the worst taste in men. They dare him to get 'cured' by sleeping with someone 'normal', having no idea that that normal guy just happens to be someone Charles has been crushing on for a while...

All We Are We Are by kianspo

Charles's boyfriend breaks up with him days before the holidays. Not willing to ruin anyone else's festive mood, Charles hides this fact from his sister and his friends, and retreats into the family mansion, letting the world move on without him. He's flirting with depression when a one-time ex and a long-term friend surprises him. Long-kept secrets are revealed, and it turns out, Charles hasn't been paying attention to the right things.

#gerec rambles #gerec's fic rec #2020 favorites #cherik #xavierine #starles #erik/shaw #charles/shaw #2020 #long post #year's not over so there may be more!#fic rec

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littlemisswolfie · 4 years ago

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nothing is so loveless as the break of day

AO3

Cold dawn A waning moon With no companion— Since our parting, nothing is so loveless As the break of day.

—Mibu no Tadamine

Haiji wakes up on his first morning in his new apartment and decides it’s too quiet.

Getting a team of almost complete rookies to the Hakone Ekiden in less than a year is an accomplishment. It’s noteworthy. While Haiji hadn’t been thinking of his future prospects in his last year of college (he just wanted to run), the fact is, what he did should have been impossible, as Kakeru said. Over and over and over.

This, as it turns out, makes him very employable, and somewhere in between his emergency surgery and his final exams and his packing, he gets a job offer to be an assistant coach for a corporate team. He doesn’t really have anything else going for him, so he takes it, and he, Yuki, and King all graduate from Kansei to the cheers of their teammates.

Haiji’s heart is heavy as he steps out of Aotake for the last time as a resident. He knows the team is in good hands, with Kakeru being unanimously voted to succeed him in captainship and several incoming freshman eager to be part of the team that seeded in their first year at Hakone, but it’s bittersweet. He got one year. One year. One year out of four.

“Call me if you need anything,” he tells Kakeru.

Kakeru doesn’t call.

“Hey, Kiyose-san!”

Haiji startles, looking up from his training journal to face one of the runners he’s been charged with inducting to the world of professional running. Tamura Shou, his mind supplies. He’s a bit older than Haiji, with dark hair and brown eyes. “Tamura-san,” he greets, closing his notebook to hide his notes. He knows from experience (from Kakeru) that runners seeing their own stats isn’t always the best idea. “Did you need anything?” The group Haiji is in charge of is taking a break right now so another group can run time trials, so he doesn’t see the harm in a little bit of conversation.

“Well,” Tamura says, looking a little sheepish all of a sudden, “Yoshioka and I have a bet running, and I wanted to ask you straight out, so, do you have a girlfriend, or something?”

(“By the way… Kakeru, do you have a girlfriend?”)

“What.”

Tamura flushes. “F-forget it!” He blusters off to a cluster of other runners.

Haiji blinks, a little stunned. What would have made him think Haiji had a girlfriend?

Cooking for one is hard. Haiji always makes too much.

He still talks to Yuki and King, sometimes. Yuki’s trailblazing his way through both the legal track and several women’s beds and is always eager to talk about each conquest. Haiji enjoys his career talk and tolerates his womanizing talk. King finally found work as a guidance counselor at a nearby middle school, and he’s the faculty supervisor for their men’s track and field team. Haiji never lets him forget how reluctant he was to start running in the first place.

The three of them meet up for drinks every once in a while. Haiji considers proposing inviting the older members of their old track team, but decides against it. Seeing them feels sad, like trying to relive that last glorious year of college would be betraying his friends.

“Haiji, King,” Yuki slurs one night after a few too many drinks, “you need to get girlfriends already.”

King blushes. “Shut it! I’m busy enough as it is without a woman getting in my way!”

Haiji sighs. First Tamura-san, and now this. What is it with the world prying into his romantic life? “I’m content,” he tells Yuki. “I already got everything I could ever want. What else can I ask for?”

He almost goes to a track meet to see if Kansei is there. He decides against it.

His team goes away for a training camp. Haiji can get around pretty well with his crutches by now, so he goes with them.

Okinawa is beautiful in the summer. Haiji leans out the window of the van his group takes and watches the passerby, the teenagers on their skateboards and the families walking together. He remembers how much the twins wanted to come here last summer. (He wonders where Kansei went this year, if they went anywhere at all.)

Watching the runners run is always hard. He wants to run with them, feel the wind in his hair, use his muscles that have become lax in the months since Hakone, hear his heart thunder in his ears. Wants to see if that white line that was always under Kakeru’s feet is anywhere else.

(He doubts it.)

He helps cook the meals for the team, like he used to for Kansei, but it feels wrong to cook with someone other than Kakeru next to him. He’d only had company in the kitchen for a year, but he grew used to it, and cooking without Kakeru is foreign.

He wonders if Kakeru cooks with anyone new at Aotake. He wonders why the thought makes his stomach twist up in knots.

He doesn’t visit his parents very often. What would they even have to talk about, other than running?

He’s off his crutches by then, but he still doesn’t get to go watch the Ekiden in person. Training starts that day, after all, and he’s too new to be able to beg off to watch his former team compete in a relay race. Instead, he watches the highlights when he gets back to his lonely apartment both nights.

Not everyone from last year is running the race. Prince, Jota, and Nico-chan-senpai all act as supports rather than runners, but they’re wearing their track suits, so Haiji knows they’re still on the team. He’s surprised at Nico-chan-senpai not running. It’s his last year.

The team is strong, much stronger than when Haiji was captain. He knows that’s because of their success last year. If they hadn’t made it to the Ekiden already, their team would be pretty much unknown. But the sight of all these strong runners working together with his friends makes something ugly bubble up in Haiji’s chest. He wants to be there with them. He wants to be running that race.

Kakeru beats the section nine record again. Haiji watches him hand the sash off to the last runner, some first-year, and remembers when that was him.

Kansei finishes eighth.

Kakeru doesn’t call him.

After their graduation, Shindo and Nico-chan-senpai join their nights out. Shindo’s working as a business analyst for the corporation sponsoring Haiji’s team, so they see each other more frequently than the others already, and Nico-chan-senpai is still doing his freelance programming.

“Whoa,” Yuki says the first time they meet up, “you cut your hair!” His fingers brush Nico-chan-senpai’s newly-short hair almost reverently. “You almost look like a functional person!”

“Thanks, I really missed this,” Nico-chan-senpai snarks, but his eyes are unbearably soft.

The conversational inevitably turns to Kansei. “It’s so strange,” Shindo muses one night, before he gets too drunk. “I got so used to it just being the ten of us that working with all those new people was weird.”

“They just kept hangin’ around Aotake, too,” Nico-chan-senpai grumbles. “As if the twins weren’t loud enough already.”

Shindo groans. “And they’re even worse now that Hana-chan’s at Kansei. They have some sort of pact to not pursue her until they graduate, but they’re so moony. Musa and I were never like that.”

What?

Haiji’s glad he’s not the only one confused by this statement. A quick glance around their table tells him the rest of his former teammates look just as shocked. Well, except for Nico-chan-senpai, who just nods in agreement, like this is a reasonable thing for Shindo to be saying. “Uh, Shindo?” he says. “What are you talking about?”

Shindo looks at them like they’re all stupid. “Uh, me and Musa? We’ve been dating since last year’s Ekiden?”

“HAH?!” Yuki slams his hands on the table, jostling everyone’s beer.

“Wasn’t it obvious?” Shido’s neck is red, now, and not thanks to the alcohol for once. “It’s not like we were trying to hide it or anything!”

“I-I thought you were straight, though!” King says, flushing red under his tanned skin. “You had a girlfriend!”

“Bisexuality exists, you know,” Nico-chan-senpai drawls. Haiji doesn’t miss how his eyes flicker over to Yuki as he says this, or how Yuki stares straight at Shindo, ears red. Huh.

“Kakeru misses you,” Shindo says to him after the others leave for the night (or early morning, whichever is more accurate). “You should give him a call, sometime.”

“He could also call me,” Haiji points out.

What good could I ever do to him? he wonders silently. I can’t even run anymore.

The revelation of Shindo and Musa’s relationship is one Haiji can’t help but dwell on. Looking back on it, he realizes the signs were there. They were always close, after all, and Musa ended up dragging a drunk Shindo back to his room on more than one occasion. It was weird to see one of them without the other close behind.

So, he thinks, maybe this was inevitable.

He imagines their relationship, sometimes, when he’s alone, lying in bed in his too-empty apartment. They’re probably easy. Comfortable. They don’t have to fill a silence. They’re content to just be with each other.

He wonders if Kakeru has anyone like that.

He hopes not. Does that make him a bad person?

Now that he knows about Shindo and Musa, Haiji can’t help but wonder if any of his other former teammates are like them, so he does what he does best: he watches.

It only takes a few more guys’ nights out to notice how Nico-chan-senpai keeps looking at Yuki. He only does it when he thinks no one is looking, but his eyes are soft, affectionate, loving in a way that makes Haiji ache. Has anyone ever looked at him like that? Like he hung the stars in the sky? Like he’s the answer to everything?

“Why haven’t you said anything?” he asks Nico-chan-senpai when Yuki heads back to the bar to hit on a girl. Shindo and King are talking loudly to each other about their respective jobs, both already three sheets to the wind, so Haiji’s not concerned with either of them overhearing.

Nico-chan-senpai doesn’t pretend to not know what he’s talking about. “I’m content with how things are,” he says, looking wistful. “I’d rather have his friendship and pine than risk losing him over a confession.”

Haiji nods, even if he doesn’t really understand. Then, a little quieter, he asks, “How many of the original team do you think are…?”

“Queer?” Nico-chan-senpai supplies. Haij flushes. “Well, Shindo and Musa for sure, and me, obviously. I have my suspicions about Kakeru, but I’m not sure.”

Haiji feels his world stutter to a stop. Kakeru?

He can’t stop imagining it, now. Has Kakeru ever kissed another boy? Did he sneak around with his classmates in high school? Is Kakeru with a boy right now, in his room at Aotake?

Haiji hates the thought.

He pulls up his phone browser and types in “what does it mean if i get mad at the thought of my friend with a guy” and deletes it. He already knows the answer.

He throws himself into his coaching to try and distract himself from his new intrusive thought. His runners aren’t thrilled with his newfound enthusiasm, but it gets results, so none of them can really be mad about it.

“What, did you get dumped, or something?” Tamura jokes.

“Five more laps!” Haiji tells him with a cheerful smile.

When Hakone rolls around this year, Haiji watches the replay of Kakeru beating his own record once again, and Kasei takes fourth place. After, Haiji pulls up Kakeru’s contact information and stares at the call button for a good minute.

He decides not to call.

The first time Musa and Prince join them after their graduation, Shindo downs five beers in ten minutes and spends the rest of the night in Musa’s lap. Musa (who has a goatee, now, and it suits him pretty well) manages a surprisingly normal conversation around his clingy boyfriend, and that’s how Haiji learns he’s staying in Tokyo for grad school.

“Visas are complicated,” he says. “Until the laws change and Takashi and I can get married, the only way I can stay here for now is as a student.”

Musa calls Shindo by his first name. Haiji’s not sure what to make of that.

Prince got a job as a shonen manga editor. “I’m not going to be working on any major projects for a while,” he grumbles. “What’s the point of editing manga if you don’t get to touch the big ones?”

“Hey,” Haiji soothes, “at least you get to work with manga! And who knows, maybe you’ll be tasked with a sleeper hit!”

“That’s what my girlfriend keeps telling me,” Prince groans.

Yuki almost drops his glass. “Girlfriend?”

King whirls around and grabs Prince by the collar. “I can’t believe you got a girlfriend before me!”

Nico-chan-senpai makes a considering noise. “That’s three of us with actual partners, huh? Shindo and Musa, and Prince.”

Musa laughs. “Four, soon, if the twins have their way!”

“I thought they were waiting until they graduated to ask Hana-chan out,” Haiji says.

“No, no, they are. They’re trying to set Kakeru up with a guy they met at this year’s Ekiden.”

Haiji’s blood roars in his ears.

“Oh, that guy from Rikudo?” Prince asks. “What was his name? Miyamura?”

“Miyamoto,” Musa corrects. “Miyamoto Jurou. They went against each other in Section 9. Jota saw him checking Kakeru out and decided they should get together.”

“I swear to god,” Yuki grits out, “if Kakeru loses his virginity before I get a steady girlfriend, I’m going to murder someone.”

So will Haiji, he thinks.

Nico-chan-senpai pulls him aside as everyone else leaves the bar. “I saw that look earlier,” he says. “What’s got you so upset about Kakeru?”

Haiji really doesn’t want to talk about this, so he says, “I’ll tell you if you promise to ask Yuki out by our next guys’ night.”

And so the subject is dropped.

He goes home that night and looks up Miyamoto Jurou. He’s a third year at Rikudo, studying literature, and he’s tall and good looking, and he gave Kakeru a run for his money at this year’s Ekiden.

And he can run.

In what feels like a breach of their semi-distanced guys’ nights, Haiji finds himself at Shindo and Musa’s tiny apartment a few weeks later for a housewarming party.

It’s been Shindo’s apartment for a year now, but with Musa moving in, it feels kind of like a home. The decor is a healthy mix of Shindo’s country sensibilities and Musa’s colorful Tanzanian culture, and the two young men seem so at ease in this space they’ve made with each other that Haiji kind of wants to cry.

More than anything (okay, maybe not more than running) he misses this. He misses living with someone else. He misses the noise and the companionship. Every morning, he wakes up to his empty apartment and he feels lonely.

He’s so caught up in this feeling that he misses Kakeru, Jota, Joji, and Hana-chan arriving until he hears something hit the floor. His head whips around and he sees Kakeru standing in the doorway, mouth slightly open in shock and a convenience store bag filled with what looks like plastic bottles of green tea at his feet. Haiji feels his heart stop.

Because Kakeru is gorgeous. He’s always been good looking, Haiji knows, but that was a lot easier to deal with when he saw Kakeru on a daily basis. Now, it’s been a little over two years since the last time he saw him, and he’s wholly unprepared.

But everyone is looking at him, now, and he knows Kakeru kind of hates being the center of attention and that’s what’s going to happen if he keeps staring at him like an idiot, so he forces his face into a smile and waves. “Hi, Kakeru. Long time, no see.”

Things are more than a little tense, even if everyone pretends the atmosphere is normal. No matter where Haiji goes in the tiny apartment, he can feel Kakeru’s eyes on him, burning a hole in his skin.

He tries to make the most of the party. He catches up with the twins and Hana-chan, who have all fallen into leadership roles as the years went on with ease. Now that Hana-chan is a Kansei student herself, she can help them full-time, which has, apparently, been very helpful. “Plus,” Joji whispers to him, already drunk, “having a cute manager is a huge morale boost!”

Jota and Joji are sort of like sub-captains, from what Haiji gathers. Kakeru is the main authority on all things running, but Jota and Joji, who specialize in sprinting and long-distance running respectively, have been overseeing those aspects of the team’s practice. “We have almost twenty guys now,” Jota says, “so it’s hard for Kakeru to give them all one-on-one attention, so Joji and I focus on the broader things while he nitpicks.”

“That’s a great idea,” Haiji praises, and he can’t help the smile that overtakes his mouth when he sees how Jota preens. This feels right, advising his former teammates like this. It’s different from the feeling he gets coaching the corporate team, because that’s a team, but this is Haiji’s family.

He wishes he could turn back time. He wishes he could live in that final, wonderful year of college for the rest of his life.

He wishes he could run again.

He can’t avoid Kakeru forever. Nico-chan-senpai makes sure of that, because when he escapes to the balcony for a breath of the cool night air, he hears Nico-chan-senpai say, loudly, “Oh, Haiji? Yeah, he just went out those doors! You should go check on him.”

Is this revenge? Haiji wonders. Is this him paying me back for trying to make him make a move on Yuki? It must be.

He doesn’t look up when he hears the sliding door open and then close again, or when he feels Kakeru walking up next to him to lean on the rail. “You never called,” he says, staring at the city streets below, still alive even in the dark.

Kakeru sighs. “I figured you would be too busy, with your rehab and your new team and all.”

“I’m never too busy for you.”

“Yeah, you say that, but you would do something stupid, like sleep less, to make time to talk to me.” Haiji finally looks over at him, his profile glowing a little from the light inside, and, god, he’s so beautiful. “You can’t do that to yourself again, Haiji-san. It was scary enough the first time, and we were still living at Aotake, then. If you collapsed again, I might not even find out.”

“Alright, point taken.” Despite the earlier awkwardness, this feels natural. It feels like quiet nights in the Aotake kitchen, listening to Kakeru clumsily chop carrots while the prepared dinner together. It feels like home, almost. “You’re doing a great job, Kakeru. I watched the last two Ekiden highlights, since I couldn’t go watch in person. You’ve become a great leader.”

Kakeru flashes him one of his genuine, tiny smiles. “I learned from the best.”

It’s easier, after that.

Everyone comes to the Aotake demolition party to say goodbye to the building that used to be home, and they split up to help Kakeru and the twins move into their new apartments, and things feel normal, for once.

Kakeru’s new apartment is tiny, but Kakeru, by his own admission, probably won’t spend too much time here in the next year before he graduates, so he’s not too bothered by it. Between his classes, training, and the part time job he’s picked up in the shopping district, he has a busy fourth year ahead of him.

“Years ago,” he tells Haiji when he sees him to the door when his taxi arrives, “you said you wanted to know what running was. Do you remember that?”

“Of course,” Haiji says.

“Come watch Hakone this year. I’ll tell you when it’s over.”

Haiji could say no. Should say no. He has his own team to think about now. But when Kakeru looks at him like that, Haiji would say yes to just about anything.

The next year passes in a blur. Haiji works harder than he ever has before, like he’s making up for having to take the first few practices of the new year off months in advance. The guys’ nights happen with a little less frequency (or, at least, Haiji attends less of them than he used to), but they’re fun when they do happen.

“I finally have a girlfriend!” King says one night, triumphant, and the table explodes into raucous cheers and applause. “Her name’s Noriko, and she’s the second year social studies teacher at my school, and damn, is she cute!” He whips his phone out of his pocket to show them a photo of a woman who is, indeed, damn cute.

“Ugh,” Yuki groans. “Life isn’t fair. How did you get a girlfriend before me?”

“Being a whore might be a factor, there,” Shindo slurs.

Yuki growls when the rest of their friends laugh. “But really, who’s next?” He spins to glare at Nico-chan-senpai, who’s hiding his grin into his beer glass. “Are you gonna pop up with some girlfriend next? Huh?”

“Nah, I’m too old for that shit,” Nico-chan-senpai says, waving the comment off with his usual affable air. “I’ll just be the cool, childless uncle who spoils all your kids rotten.”

“So, that just leaves Kakeru,” Prince muses. “Has anyone heard anything else about that Miyamoto guy the twins were trying to set him up with?”

The mention almost makes Haiji’s blood boil, but before he can rile himself up too much, Musa shakes his head. “Hana-chan told me that he asked Kakeru out, but he turned him down. Apparently, he already has someone he likes.”

Around Haiji, his friends start debating who, exactly, Kakeru likes.

Haiji has an idea, though.

Before he knows it, the Hakone Ekiden has arrived. Haiji arrives at the finish line for the first day before the race starts, a livestream already bookmarked on his phone, and he finds the rest of the original Kansei team there, as well. “Hey!” Yuki says, slapping him on the back. “You made it this year!”

“Well, it is the last time any of the original team will be racing,” Haiji says. “What’s everyone running this year?”

Musa looks at his phone. “Jota is Section 1, Joji is Section 2, and Kakeru is Section 10.”

Haiji blinks. “Not Section 9? Why’d he change up sections?”

“If I had to guess,” Nico-chan-senpai says, “he wants to cross the finish line in his last Ekiden.”

Haiji thinks back to his first and last Ekiden and nods. “That makes sense.”

Kansei ends the first day at fourth place, which is very promising for the return leg. Their fastest runner is at the very end, after all, and Haiji knows damn well how many runners Kakeru can pass if he’s serious about it.

Haiji stares at his phone in his hotel room that night and thinks about calling Kakeru. He knows he shouldn’t. Kakeru needs his sleep if he’s running the last section of the race tomorrow. But then he remembers their conversation on Shindo and Musa’s apartment, and he hits the call button.

Kakeru picks up very quickly. “Hey,” he says, voice soft. “Did you watch today?”

“Yes. Your team is really good. You’ve got a chance of winning tomorrow.”

“Don’t say that, you’ll jinx it.”

Haiji laughs. “Since when are you superstitious?”

“It’s my last chance, Haiji-san. I want to go out with a bang.”

“You’ll do great.”

“Will you be waiting for me at the finish line?”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Haiji is a nervous wreck for most of the next day. He remembers this anxious feeling from when he was running the Ekiden, but now it’s combined with a feeling of helplessness. There’s nothing he can do but watch, and he hates it. He wants to be running alongside Kakeru, working with him, helping him cross the finish line.

But he can’t.

So he watches.

Kansei keeps doing well. They’re a far cry from the haphazard team Haiji put together all those years ago. These men are trained runners, athletes who have spent their lives preparing for this moment. There are no Princes, no Nico-chan-senpais, no Kings.

They are a group of Kakerus.

Where am I? he wonders as he watches them run. Did Kakeru find someone to take my place? Was there room for someone like me in the team he’s made?

The Kansei runner who runs Section 9 doesn’t beat Kakeru’s record from last year. Haiji can’t help but feel incredibly smug about it.

Haiji limps his way to the finish line as soon as he sees the sash get passed to Kakeru, who’s in first place. First place! “Go on ahead of me,” he tells the others, who try to slow down for him. His knee is on fire, but he’s going to see this through. “I’ll just slow you down.”

“What the hell kinda talk is that?” Nico-chan-senpai asks.

Prince nods and puts a hand on his shoulder. “You and Kakeru didn’t leave us behind, no matter how slow we were. The least we could do is return the favor.”

“We’re the Kansei Ten,” says Jota, since he and Joji joined the rest of their former teammates after their sections. “We finish this the way we started it: together.”

“‘Kansei Ten?’ What kinda name is that?” Yuki scoffs.

Haiji’s heart feels full, and he and his friends, his family, walk to the finish line together.

When they see Kakeru coming around the bend, everyone starts yelling. Haiji can’t help but think about that second track meet, where only half of the guys ran, and how the spectators just went buck wild. This is the same thing, except there are nine people cheering and one person running.

Well, more than nine people cheering. The rest of the current Kansei team has joined them at this point, so their shouting is deafening. Haiji knows there are several cameras trained on them, but he can’t bring himself to care. All he has eyes for is Kakeru, running towards him. Was this how Kakeru felt, all those years ago, when he was in Haiji’s place and Haiji was in his?

There’s my dream, he thinks again. It’s taken form and it’s running.

Kakeru has always been his dream, even if he went over twenty years without knowing it. And now that he knows it, he can’t escape it.

“Kakeru!” he yells, cupping his hands around his mouth to make himself louder. “Last spurt!”

His friends laugh at the phrase and join in in sync, but he’s not paying attention. All he sees is Kakeru, speeding up, making a beeline to him. He knows, logically, that of course Kakeru has gotten faster over the years, because that’s how progress works, but Haiji swears on everything good in this world that he’s never run as fast as he is now.

When Kakeru crosses the finish line (in first place!), Haiji rips the blanket out of the twins’ hands and throws it over Kakeru himself. “You did it!” he gasps, and he’s positive Kakeru can’t hear him over the cheers of the rest of the former and current Kansei team members, but he says it again. “You did it, Kakeru!”

It seems like everyone is trying to touch Kakeru. There are hands on his arms, on the blanket, on his back, in his hair, but Haiji refuses to be dislodged. He has an arm locked around Kakeru’s shoulders and he’s not letting go. Not for anything.

Haiji sees the reporters hovering outside their circle of celebration. He should let Kakeru go talk to them, should let this incredible man get interviewed for the nation to see, but he’s selfish, so he still doesn’t let go.

“And there we have it! Kansei University has won the Hakone Ekiden, led by captain Kurahara Kakeru! There, we can see Kurahara-senshu’s teammates congratulating him, along with the original Kansei University Hakone team. In the center of the celebrations is former captain and current works team coach Kiyose Haiji-senshu. Some of you will remember that Kiyose-senshu had to quit running after his first and last Ekiden four years ago…”

“Kurahara-senshu! How does it feel to have won the Hakone Ekiden?”

“It feels amazing, but, at the end of the day, the times don’t really matter. I got to run with and against extremely talented runners, and that is what I’m most grateful for.”

“Do you plan to continue running when you graduate from university?”

“I’ve had some scouting offers from works teams, but I haven’t committed to anything yet.”

“What do you have to say to young athletes?”

“I want to say that running isn’t about who’s fast and who’s slow. It’s about strength, and everyone has the strength to start. And, no matter what, you’re always running with someone.”

“Thank you for your time, Kurahara-senshu. And, again, congratulations!”

The team and their supporters retreat to a nearby bar to celebrate. Haiji still refuses to leave Kakeru’s side, finding excuses to touch him as often as he can. He’s probably being too obvious, but, then again, next to Shindo and Musa, he’d be surprised if anyone noticed.

King’s and Prince’s girlfriends meet up with them at the bar, too, so everyone gets to meet them. King seems a little suspicious of Yuki when they walk through the door, but he’s a perfect gentleman about the whole thing. “They’re great guys,” he says to Noriko-san and Chihaya-san, Prince’s girlfriend. “I’m proud to call them my friends.”

Everyone stops dead at the surprisingly earnest expression from Yuki, and Nico-chan-senpai pulls him into a noogie, saying, “Damn it, Yuki, why’d you gotta get all sentimental?” and then everyone laughs.

As the night winds on, Haiji finally has had enough, and he tugs on Kakeru’s elbow to pull him away from the noise of the celebrations. They wind up outside the bar, leaning against the building, arms just barely brushing. Haiji knows his knee is going to hate him tomorrow, but for now, he’s just focusing on Kakeru. “You said you’d tell me what running is,” he says, trying for conversational and probably failing.

“It’s you,” says Kakeru, characteristically to the point. “You’ve always been the answer.”

Haiji just stares for a moment. Then, for lack of a better reaction, he tilts his head back and he laughs.

Kakeru, of course, flushes bright red. “W-what?”

“Oh, no, not you,” Haiji says, having doubled over. “I’m not making fun of you, I swear.”

“Sure seems like you are,” Kakeru grumbles.

“I swear,” Haiji repeats. He straightens up, because he knows he has to be serious about this. “It’s just, I thought something similar about you.”

The younger man perks up. “Really?”

Haiji nods. “When I saw you running, that first night, I thought, ‘That’s it. That’s my dream.’” He laughs again, this time, soft. “We’ve both been idiots, haven’t we?”

“I think so,” Kakeru says. He’s breathless, like he just finished running, and Haiji can’t help how he delights in being able to affect him like this. He reaches a hand out, just this side of shy, and tangles his fingers with Haiji’s.

“Hey, Kakeru?”

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Kakeru pulls his face down in response.

The first meeting of their lips feels like coming home.

“You know,” Kakeru mumbles against his lips when they draw back just enough to breathe, “my lease is up in a month.”

“Move in with me.”

“Yeah.”

And then they kiss again.

“Oh, fuck you guys!” Yuki yells when he pokes his head out the door a few minutes later to see them still kissing.

A month later, Haiji wakes up in his apartment, Kakeru snoring softly into his ear and his leg thrown across his hips, and decides, maybe, it’s not too quiet, after all.

#run with the wind #kaze ga tsuyoku fuiteiru #kazetsuyo #kakehai #ao3fic #kurahara kakeru #kiyose haiji #my writing #my post #mine

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benjamintimm · 3 years ago

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Stressing about things out of your control - unreasonable expectations from both externals and yourself

Something highly relatable to quite a few of us. The idea that all expectations placed on you (from yourself or others) are reasonable, is a blatant fallacy. What do I mean by this? That’s a good question I ask, other me. I mean to say that it is often found that the thoughts and expectations of what you will be sometime in the distant future, are usually extreme variants of what you will actually become (broadly speaking). This is in mind of others expectations on you, but also, very much from your own mind (I say judging entirely off my own experience). An explanation for this would be that an angry or unruly kid is often but silently seen to amount to little or nothing, where on the flip side, bright children are often expected to have brilliant and equally bright futures. This is a common occurrence in the education systems I have been in all over the world that simply don’t reflect reality. It can also be mimicked as adults, though not as blatantly obvious. The only difference is that the adult is typically more consciously aware of this evaluation, whereas a child may subconsciously take it on and wear it as baggage further down the line. Neither of which are totally healthy mindsets and should be addressed appropriately to the situation they’re in. Now these expectations, typically made by yourself, can reflect quite often onto your regular tasks and current objectives. Which can then be unconsciously placed into your practice as a manager/supervisor of others. It is at this point, the cycle repeats onto the younger generation.

Now as always, the subject can really rabbit hole here into several areas! So I’ll try not to but I find myself having to mention that these elements are usually stemmed from issues such as unconscious bias and pressures that you, the affected, will never realise (boss has trouble/company has its own problems/strangers are arses). They build up as what many of the free willed would call bad energy (I like the term “bad juju”), and then place that’s same energy upon you. It’s good to know that this is nearly never an intentional matter and that the key to overcome is to acknowledge it. Then to keep it in mind when reacting to the very same pressure being put upon you. But that doesn’t necessarily mean you can get rid of the bad juju. Many say talk to someone to throw it away and move on is an effective method, however, unless it’s a professional, the same pressure can be unconsciously placed upon the friend who is only trying to help. Again, an unintentional matter but sometimes a reality. Does that mean you shouldn’t rely on your friends to vent? Of course not! It’s just something to keep in mind when you are as they could be struggling with something as well.

Working in a university seems to be generally relaxed in comparison to commercial or otherwise. Nonetheless, deadlines and other external stresses will still apply to everyone. A critical factor to remember as a supervisor, or anyone for that matter, is that stress affects everyone differently. A minor amount to you could be quite significant to another and at the same time, could have alternative effects from one person to the next. Being a successful supervisor often comes down to effectively navigating this issue without being overwhelming to your staff.

As one of those staff, the struggle is usually on the receiving end of this problem. The typical solution of communicating to your manager is one that could cause more stress and actually, could end up with consequences if they are the unreasonable type. Though this isn’t always the case, the possibility in itself is a big enough deterrent for most that trying to fix it is just not worth it. A tried and effective way to overcome the unnecessary pressures from above is to simply not work 100%. It seems silly but giving it your all means you’re burnt out at the end whilst at the same time, the manager might just see you as an effective worker, resulting in a disposition to push you harder. Thus, starting a cycle of discomfort and eventual conflict. Obviously, there are exceptions to this with certain “crunch times” occurring or something of similar measure, but having an open mind and not forcing yourself to go on overdrive every time you work will solve much of your stress. A way to make this seem less obvious to colleagues or your manager yourself would just be to relax incrementally.

Now there are a thousand arguments against this but when it really comes down to it, your health is more important than any single job. Having an outlook that prioritises this should at the very least slow down the grey hairs for now!

#work stress #university jobs #expectations #engineering #new experiences #new job #neuroscience #management

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iffeelscouldkill · 4 years ago

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Mission Log: REDACTED

A/N: Now that Yuletide reveals are revealed, I can go ahead and own this fic I wrote for the awesome Mousek for Yuletide! It’s quite long (14,999 words), so I’m not going to post the whole thing here, just enough to give people a flavour and lure them to AO3 for the rest.

This fic is written in an “audio narrative” format, in the same style as the From the Archives ficlets if you’ve read those. Slightly spoilery warning (skip over this to remain unspoiled but please read if you’re concerned about potential triggers): this fic features people’s memories being modified (though not completely irreversibly) without their consent.

Enjoy, friends!

Summary: Canon divergence AU from mid-episode 9. Instead of executing Plan B, the Rumor crew learns about a top-secret Regime project that is being carried out at ADVANCE Labs - and that the fate of the crew of the Iris is not what they thought it had been.Violet Liu goes in undercover, posing as a member of the lab team. But can she undo what the Regime has done to the crew and free them - without losing herself in the process?

Read on AO3!

---

“This is Agent McCabe. Two weeks have now passed since our last update. Based on the continued lack of audio input via this swarm of Strain H, we can assume that the crew of the Rumor have acted on the intel given to them by the insurgents, Thasia and Violet Liu, and successfully cured themselves of the VCN nanocloud infection.

“As a result, pending further developments in this case, the Strange Case of Starship Iris is now considered closed. Footage from the case remains available in the archives and can be accessed on request by submitting form B7-081 with a superior’s signature.

“My thanks to Major General Frederick, Agents Bauman and Cross, and the specialists at Procyon, as well as Junior Agent Goodman for their assistance in this case. Long live the Republic.”

SYSTEM: E.L.L.A.

USERNAME: EMILY CRADDOCK

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED 26 JULY 2191.

REVIEWING DRAFT...

“Hey, it’s me. I just wanted to check in and say that I’m fine, I’m safe and I passed the background checks without any problems. I kept thinking the whole time that someone from the intake process would recognise me, but – none of them seemed familiar, and I guess I wasn’t either. Just a very small cog in the vast machine of the Reg- the Republic. God, I’ve got to get used to saying that again.

“I’m all settled in in my apartment – it’s twice the size of my room on the Rumor, but I can’t help thinking how much I miss that space.” Quiet laughter. “And you all. I… guess I’ll talk to you soon. I’ll have more to update you with tomorrow, after I start work at the lab. And I’ll be able to let you know whether our intel was good.

“Until then… Violet Liu out.”

“This is uh, lab report 05, week two? Analyst Brannon reporting on behalf of Gamma Team at ADVANCE.

“Over the past few days, our lab has continued work on synthesizing the NDMA proteins, and Specialists Chang and Yeboah report that they have made some positive advancements in this area. We have provisionally moved up the timeline for the first round of testing with this in mind, though Specialist Yeboah cautions that we need to monitor how the new proteins react with other molecules in the solution first, and then with the blood cell samples.

“A new member also joined our team today – specialist Huang. I wasn’t aware that we’d actually been hiring for our vacancy, but uh, she seems very qualified? A little over-qualified, even. In addition to her qualification from Brightwell she has extensive experience with this type of lab work, which makes us lucky to have her as part of the team. She’s joined Analyst Vázquez and Assistant Hudson in their work on the histone deacetylases.

“My specialism is in a completely different area, and I’m pretty sure our work histories have never overlapped, but – she seems familiar somehow. Except she said she was based on Mars up until six months ago, and I’ve been working on New Jupiter since… uh…

“Sorry – lost my train of thought for a minute there. I’ve been getting these persistent headaches… I think it’s all that poring over modelling data. Though I never get them while I’m working, so maybe they’re delayed-onset headaches? Heh. It could be the lab lighting; I might ask Supervisor Kaaka if we can swap out the bulbs for a lower wattage.

“Uh, anyway. This is Analyst Brannon signing off. Long live the Republic.”

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED: 27 JULY 2191.

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“Hey, it’s me. Oh my god… oh my god, I can barely process what’s been happening. I was going to send this message as soon as I got back to my apartment, and instead I’ve just been sitting and staring into space because it’s just so… surreal…

“They’re alive. They’re all just… alive and working in a lab at ADVANCE on New Jupiter.

“I mean, we haven’t ruled out the possibility of highly advanced duplicates, but why would the Repub- the Reg- the IGR go to all that trouble? The simplest explanation - even if it still sounds pretty far-fetched - is that they're the same crew.

“Brian, if you’re listening to this – Alvy's alive. I know I didn’t work with him that long but I’m sure, I’m so sure it's really him. But it’s like Thasia and Other Violet said – none of them remember who they were, or their real names. Everyone here calls him Analyst Brannon – Michael Brannon.

“We’re not working very closely together, but I found an excuse to go over to his workstation and introduce myself, and – it seemed like he recognised me. I’m gonna try and find ways to talk to him – the real Alvy Connors is still in there, Brian, I’m sure of it.

“Is there anything you want me to… ask him? Maybe a question that only he would know the answer to?

“Sorry, I don’t have much more time – the IGR has listening devices planted throughout every Republic-issued apartment; everywhere except the bathroom. Even they have to draw the line somewhere. I scanned it, and it’s clean, but if I remember right there are still sensors that will activate if you go above a certain noise, light or heat, threshold – y’know, in case anyone takes it upon themselves to… build a bomb in here or something. And I don’t want the bugs outside to pick up what I’m saying, which is why I’m whispering.

“But I can’t stay in here too long, or they’ll get suspicious, so – I’m fine, and so far I haven’t messed up or called the Republic the Regime or anything in earshot of anyone. And no-one has recognised me. Well, except for Alvy, maybe.

“I’m still trying to figure out what exactly they’re working on, here. If you’re going to go to the trouble of staffing a lab with the crew of an… of an exploded space ship, it must be important, right? Or maybe not. Maybe it’s just a test, to see how well they assimilate.

“I’ll let you know when I know more. Until then… stay safe. I will too. Violet Liu out.”

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED: 27 JULY 2191.

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“Hi, Liu. It’s me.

“I’ll keep this to the point, since I know you probably don’t have much time to spend playing back these messages. We’re all fine here. Kind of in a holding pattern, since there’s not much to do until we hear more from you or from Thasia and the other Violet, but it’s not too bad.

“Jeeter’s really happy, by the way, since he listened to your message. I mean, I think he’s still – processing – because he thought Connors was dead, he even wrote to his parents, and now we find out he’s alive, but not… y’know. Not Connors any more.

“But he’ll be fine. Krejjh is helping, which means the two of them are being even more nauseating then they usually are, and that’s saying something.

“Anyway. Listen, I know you want to try and get through to Connors, but… just be careful, okay? None of us, including Jeeter, wants you to get hurt or – worse – on the off chance that we might be able to bring him back. We always knew it was gonna be a long shot.

“Tripathi said to tell you the same, by the way. Well, she said it in a more… Tripathi… way, but the idea was the same. Find out what you can, but don’t get caught. We can’t afford to lo- to mess this up.

“Okay, I should go. Arkady Patel out.”

“This is lab report 06, week three. Analyst Brannon reporting on behalf of Gamma Team at ADVANCE.

“Since my last report, we have introduced the synthesized NDMA proteins to the solution and tested their interactions with samples representing different blood types. Six out of eight of the samples produced expected results, but two of the samples produced some unexpected interactions with the AB type blood cells, which warrants further testing and study.

“Specialist Huang, Analyst Vázquez and Assistant Hudson are progressing with their work on the histone deacetylases, which should be ready to introduce in the next phase of the solution, pending resolution of the AB blood cell issue.

“Okay, what else… Oh, Specialist Huang is integrating well with the team. She and I have had a couple of conversations, though our second one was unfortunately cut short when my headache started up again. Maybe I should bring it up with Dr. Starling…

“Damn it. Is that the time? I was supposed to go for my treatment a half hour ago – damn it, damn it.

“Uh… I should probably redact that from the final report. This is Analyst Brannon, signing off. Long live the Republic.”

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED: 30 JULY 2191.

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“Hey guys, it’s me again. Violet. It feels kind of nice to use my own name for a change instead of being called ‘Specialist Huang’ all the time… I almost forgot to react to it once, though luckily Vázquez thought I was just focused on my work.

“Not a whole lot to report still – I’m still trying to figure out what it is the Regime is doing in these labs. It’s something to do with DNA methylation and synthesized NDMA proteins – well, I won’t bore you with the science, but why would the IGR be working on that? Could be they’re trying to develop a neural enhancer, but for what? I haven’t ruled out the possibility of there being some kind of link to the nanobots, but no-one here has mentioned nanites, and there are no nanotech specialists working in the lab.

“They keep us very siloed, too. I know what I’m working on, or at least what I have to do, but I don’t know why, and none of the people I work directly with seems to know what we’re developing here. Just something about a solution and blood cell samples. We might not even be the only lab working on this, which means I’ll have to find another way to get at the bigger picture.

“I spoke to Alvy a couple times – I was careful, Arkady, don’t worry. We didn’t manage to talk for long anyway – people don’t socialise much here. I’d kind of forgotten what it was like to work in this kind of environment, where no-one trusts anyone or lets their guard down, because people will backstab each other for the slightest thing. Maybe they had a professional disagreement, or don’t get along, or they wanted to get the credit for the other person’s work. It doesn’t take much of an insinuation to get someone transferred or – worse.

“Nothing’s happened, not yet, and it’s still nowhere near as bad as that student internship I did during the war. But it feels… tense, almost hair-trigger. I think I heard we’re having an inspection later on this week.

“Anyway, Alvy – I didn’t get to talk to him for very long, not just because of the environment, but because he had this headache come on the second time we talked. I’m not sure if it means anything – he said he gets them often. Brian, do you… remember him saying anything about that before?

“He seems a little different to the way I remember him on the Iris – a little more serious, less laid-back, though he’s still the friendliest person on the team. I didn’t… get to know him under the best circumstances, so I’m not sure if that’s due to the memory wipe or not.

“He also mentioned that he’s been seeing a doctor for these treatments – they all have. It could just be something to do with the away shuttle explosion, some kind of recovery program – there was an explosion, even if it didn’t really kill anyone, and Alvy’s got these – support struts in one of his legs, I think they’re carbon fibre. He walks with a slight limp sometimes.

“It could be nothing, but I feel like it might be worth digging into? Arkady, are you able to poke around in ADVANCE’s systems a bit, see if you can find anything that resembles medical reports?

“I’d better go. I brought my makeup bag in here as a cover for taking a bit longer – I don’t even know if the IGR has cameras in these apartments, but better to be safe than sorry – but there’s only so long you can take to put on the bare minimum I wear.

“Send me a message when you can. Violet Liu, out.”

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED: 30 JULY 2191.

REVIEWING DRAFT...

“Hey, Liu. Good instincts on the medical treatment thing. I didn’t spot anything like that in my initial sweep of the system when I forged your interview and acceptance records, but I wasn’t on the lookout for it either.

“There’s a limit to what I can access without jacking directly into ADVANCE’s mainframe computer or piggybacking on their local network, but I’ll dig around as much as I can.” Jokingly: “ Worst comes to worst, we could always send Jeeter in with an earpiece and make him pose as a computer technician.

“Oh, also, Jeeter says he doesn’t remember Alvy ever mentioning any kind of migraines or head pain. Apparently he’d go on these all-night coding benders and then sleep for two hours and be completely fine the next morning. Maybe it caught up to him, but – well, I’m not gonna jump to any conclusions. I’ll see what I can find in the medical records.

“Also – be careful with the inspection, okay? Your ID will hold up, Campbell doesn’t skimp on the quality, and you look different enough from the physical description they have on file, but those Regime higher-ups will ask some weird shit to catch you out.

“You’ve got the comm if you need us for anything. Just… keep your head down.

“Arkady Patel, out.”

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED: 31 JULY 2191.

REVIEWING DRAFT...

“Hey, Liu, listen. You were right. There’s something weird going on with these treatments.

“I managed to track down the medical records for the whole crew. Wasn’t easy, but I’ll save the tales of my security-defying exploits for another time. Anyway, I managed to hack into an account belonging to someone called Dr. Starling. They were brought onto ADVANCE’s payroll on June 1st – two days before the away shuttle exploded.

“There are files for all of them, and the scientific stuff doesn’t mean much to me, but from what I can tell, they’re monitoring them all for signs of what Starling calls ‘leakage’ – memories from their previous lives. Five of the other crew members have reported experiencing head pains, and it’s not a physical injury – Starling seems to think the pain is set off by them thinking back beyond a certain point, or being reminded of something from their past life. They upped the frequency of the ‘treatments’ to try and counter it, but so far it hasn’t worked.

“I think that’s what they’re for, the treatments – they’re keeping the crew’s memories suppressed. Which means, if they can be interfered with somehow…

“Bad news is, I can’t get into the scheduling system, not without access to the local network. But in Starling’s notes it says that Alvy was meant to come in for a treatment earlier today- well, yesterday technically, since it’s after 3am. But he didn’t show. So maybe you could get through to him.

“Obviously, don’t blow your cover, but if Alvy’s been getting these headaches a lot, it could mean he’s trying to remember? You said he got a headache when you guys talked – what were you talking about?”

A stifled yawn. “Shit, I’d better sleep, Sana wanted me to help encrypt some intel to send to Thasia and the other Violet Liu first thing in the morning. I’ll talk to you later. Arkady Patel out.”

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED 31 JULY 2191.

REVIEWING DRAFT...

“Arkady, you’re a genius! Oh my god, I could kiss you.

“I’ve only skimmed the records you copied, but they make references to a solution that sounds a lot like the one we’re developing in the lab. What if that’s the answer? What if that’s what the IGR is having the crew develop, another version of the treatment – maybe one that’s more permanent…

“…Oh god, that’s so dark. They’re having the crew work on erasing their own memories. It’s so inhuman, so – exactly what the IGR would do.

“–I have to go, I’ve got work in half an hour, but – this really helps. And I’ll try to talk to Alvy today, see if he seems any different after his missed treatment. Violet Liu out.”

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED: 31 JULY 2191.

REVIEWING DRAFT...

“You, uh—” The sound of awkward throat-clearing. “You are welcome. Yeah. Like I said, it’s uh, it’s what I do! So, no, uh thanks required. Though if you wanted to, I—

“Shit, I’ve gotta go, Sana needs me. Uh, Arkady Patel out.”

Read the rest here!

#fic #TSCOSI #The Strange Case of Starship Iris #Yuletide #Yuletide fic #mission fic #Violet Liu #Arkady Patel #Alvy Connors #RJ McCabe #Vikady #I really enjoyed writing the dorky Violet/Arkady interactions in this fic #I mean I really enjoyed writing all of this #but especially that aspect #also please ignore the sciencey jargon #though I've been told by someone who is more sciencey than I am that it is not bad jargon #it took me way too long to come up with 😂 I wanted it to be vaguely plausible #but it's not necessary to understand the fic

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juliecarstairs6 · 4 years ago

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The intern

Prequel

Pairing: L x reader

Summary: Y/N has been an intern for six months now at the Japanse Police station. But she decides to stay after a mysterious killer appears with the nickname kira. And it could also have something to do with that strange man she met in a coffee shop.

words: 1434

Warnings: mention of diet, serial killer

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I've been working for the Japanse Police for over six months and it has been exhausting. Not only is it hard work I don’t get respected being a woman. They think that I am weak and refuse to send me on field work so I am stuck with boring papers and getting coffee. Thankfully some people do respect me it’s only a handful but that handful is keeping me here. My supervisor is one of them chief Yagami he is respectful man and I look up to him. I remember him calling out one of my colleagues for suggesting I simply become a secretary for crying out loud I did my training and graduated just like them and chief Yagami tought the exact same thing. He wasn’t the only one standing up for me, Matsuda my best friend always has my back and I have his. Our friendship evolved quite quickly we were both the outcasts of the police station and that meant eating lunch together and eventually having a drink after work. He makes my life so much lighter with his endless positism and enthousiam. The only downside to our friendship is the embarrassing moments he endures and drags me with him. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

But the true reason I deciced to stay longer is Kira. He fascinates me and I wish to meet him and talk to him and possibly even take a brain scan and see what is going on with him. It’s obvious he is a serial killer he has a pattern like all serial killers and i doubt he feels any remorse. But why criminals? Perhaps it gives him a way to justify his killing he probably thinks he is doing the world a favor and even saving lifes. But then again why not turn in to the police if you can get close enough t give someone a heart attack you can surly hand them into the police? No he isn’t more than a horrendous killer.

“Y/N and Matsuda, can I talk to you in my office?”, I stop my train of toughts about Kira and look at chief Yagami. I hope I’m not in trouble and I try to make my voice sound strong. “Yes”. As i turn around I see that everyone is looking at us just perfect. Doubt washes over my body as I approach his office. That misstake I made with the Yuri case could it be about that? But why is Matsuda then also being called he had nothing to do with it? He gives me a reasurring smile right before we enter the office that warms my heart atleast I have him by my side. I nod to chief Yagami after I enter and see Matsuda saluting him. This is what I mean by embarrassing moments. “Both of you sit down please.” I can feel my heart beating out of my chest and fear for the worst it’s a terrible treat of mine. I swirl my h/c round my finger a of nervousity as he begins to speak. “This afternoon their will be a world convernce about the Kira case and I would want you two to come with me. It will a great learning experience for both of you.” My heart is once again beating out of my chest but this time for other reasons. Matsuda looks at me with a huge grin and I can’t help my face forming a smile as well. I anwser him not wanting Matsuda to say something to excited ,“It’s an honor to be invited to this sir and we will attend the convernce.”

I’m still in shock after I leave the office this is huge opportunity and I’m so thankful to chief Yagami for giving it to me and Matsuda. Now we can perhaps finally be taken serious. “Pinch me I need to know if I’m dreaming or not.” I turn to Matsuda and give him a little pinch we both giggle after that both in disbelief that out of all the cops beter and more experienced he chose us, ofcourse I am not complaining. “This is probably the best work day I’ve had in a long time.” Matsuda nods at me and laughs before saying, “Even better than when I introduced you to that coffee shop with those heavenly cheescakes?” Oh god I remember tasting that cake and being in love it’s the best in the entire world. I make a mocking thinking pose, “No I still think this day is better, oh speaking about it wanna get a drink their before we have to leave we are on our break anyways?”. His faces drops in a dissapointed scowl and he slugs his shoulders. He can’t come he probably still has work it’s typically him. Always doing things at last minute I really need to learn him to plan his work better that way he will have so much more time. But that task is more difficult than catching Kira himself. “Let me guess you don’t have time cause you still have work to do?” he nods and gives me a sheepish smile. “Well another time then goodluck and if you still haven’t finished work I’ll help you but you seriously need to learn how to plan.” He gives me one of his heartwarming smiles and I already know I will get a phonecall at night and will end up helping him. “Thank you Y/N. Without you i’d probably be fired.” I wave him good bye and head my way to the cafe. I mean it’s not my fault Matsuda still has work and a little treat won’t hurt my diet I hope.

The cafe is only a 5 minute walk not that I mind it the weather is good and I feel the sunshine on my face leaving a pleasant warm feeling. The decorations outside of the cafe are questionable it’s all pink and white and definitly meant as a romantic cafe. On both sides of the door the walls are decorated with many many flowers and it gives a sweet and calm aura. The smell of coffee fils my nostrils and it’s one of my favorites things. How the hell do people survive without it. The smell enhances as I enter the cafe inside it has the same vibe as outside with pink and white everywhere. there are all kind of seating options from the clasic chairs to high chairs, sofa’s and beanbags all decorated with diffrent pillows.The two cats of the owners chairman meow and church are laying lazely on one of the sofa’s decorated with many cat themed pillows, that sofa is the cats spot. Normally I’d order a latte and cheescake but today I want something else so I walk to the menu when a guy bumps into me. Even after many years of police training I still managed to fall on my ass with the guy now on top of me. My face begins to redden as I see the enitre cafe looking at me and the guy. Who is back on his feet and sticks his hand out to help me and I can’t help but wonder if he is homeless. His hair is sticking in all directions and he has some of the biggest bags under his eyes that I have ever seen. Normally I don’t judge a book by it’ cover but this man is strange to say the least. But I was raised to have respect so I go ahead and apoligze. “I am really sorry sir I didn’t see you.” He sticks his thumb in his mouth and looks at me like I am some kind of riddle a puzzle to be solved it’s actually kind of cute. “No need to apolgize but there is a 50% change us falling is youre fault. I have been here many times and this event never occured to me so it might be a higher percentage.” This man is strange no doubt but yet I want to get to know him better he seems interessting and I was gonna drink and eat alone better see if I can get myself some company. “Well again I am sorry my head was in the coulds. I noticed you don’t have company wanna maby drink our coffees togther?” Now he is looking at me like I am an alien no he is analyzing me I reconigze his look. Now I really hope he says yes he fascinates me. “Altough there is a 70 % change I won’t enjoy this I suppose trying won’t hurt anyone.”

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Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me except Y/N all of them excpet the cats belong to the writers of Death Note the cats belong to Cassandra Clare. The plot is also highly based on the plot of the writers of Death note

Be sure to give me advice and requests are also open for one shots with youre favorite or less favorite characters. I don’t write smut so please don’t request that cause I won’t write it.

#l x reader #death note #l lawliet #ryuzaki lawliet #lawliet x reader #light yagami #chief yagami #matsuda #misa amane #ryuk #fluff #angst

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canadian-riddler · 5 years ago

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GLaDOS and Wheatley Did Nothing Wrong – Sort of

A recurring point of contention is the question of who engages in worse behaviour over the course of Portal 2, GLaDOS or Wheatley. The true answer is: neither of them. You can’t actually judge their behaviour along a scale of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ because of the way Aperture as an environment is set up. It’s mostly explained during the Old Aperture sections of Portal 2, but it’s also hinted at in Portal 1. The thing explained is this:

Aperture Laboratories does not and never has done its experiments within the normal boundaries of morality and ethics. Therefore, GLaDOS and Wheatley’s behaviour is neither wrong nor right because they don’t know what morality and ethics are. Their behaviour is actually a reflection of Cave Johnson’s own: to get what they want when they want it, no matter the cost.

How We Know Aperture is Immoral and Unethical

We know this because Cave Johnson himself points it out repeatedly.

“[…] You get the gel. Last poor son of a gun got blue paint. Hahaha. All joking aside, that did happen – broke every bone in his legs. Tragic. But informative. Or so I’m told.”

“For this next test, we put nanoparticles in the gel. In layman’s terms, that’s a billion little gizmos that are gonna travel into your bloodstream and pump experimental genes and RNA molecules and so forth into your tumours. Now, maybe you don’t have any tumours. Well, don’t worry. If you sat on a folding chair in the lobby and weren’t wearing lead underpants, we took care of that too.”

“All these science spheres are made out of asbestos. […] Good news is, the lab boys say the symptoms of asbestos poisoning show a median latency of forty-four point six years, so if you’re thirty or older, you’re laughing. Worst case scenario, you miss out on a few rounds of canasta, plus you forwarded the cause of science by three centuries. I punch those numbers into my calculator, it makes a happy face.”

“Bean counters said I couldn’t fire a man just for being in a wheelchair. Did it anyway. Ramps are expensive.”

That’s just some of what he says. Almost all of Cave Johnson’s lines point out how much he doesn’t care about his employees, his test subjects, or… anything but that people do what he tells them to do. He’s so unethical and immoral that he eventually says about his best, most loyal employee:

“[…] I will say this – and I’m gonna say it on tape so everybody hears it a hundred times a day: If I die before you people can pour me into a computer, I want Caroline to run this place. Now she’ll argue. She’ll say she can’t. She’s modest like that. But you make her.”

Cave Johnson cares so much about getting the results he wants, everything else be damned, he thinks Caroline saying ‘she can’t’ is her being modest. He can’t fathom why she would be against this decision, because he made it so of course that’s what she wants.

This situation actually gets a little horrifying when you look at what the Lab Rat comic means to the general narrative. In Portal 2, Doug Rattmann leaves this painting:

In this painting and the one preceding it, GLaDOS has no head, so we can guess that Doug was there in some capacity to witness Caroline’s fate because GLaDOS being headless would represent her not being ‘alive’, her being ‘incomplete’, or her just having never been used yet entirely. The important thing we learn from this painting is that there are living witnesses to Caroline being inside of GLaDOS, so the people working at Aperture after this event know they put a human woman into a supercomputer. In the preceding painting,

the cores are on the chassis before the head is. So either GLaDOS, the AI, was already ‘misbehaving’ and they were already regulating her behaviour, or Caroline, the person, was already ‘causing trouble’ beforehand and the scientists stood around thinking about how to force her to behave before they even put her in there. Either way, Aperture’s ethical and moral standards are pretty much nonexistent, so when this happens:

it’s almost comical. None of the Aperture scientists have a conscience or, if they do, they constantly ignore it, but they for some reason expect the supercomputer their immoral selves built to have one and to understand what that is and what it’s for.

All this taken into account, it’s incredibly easy to see why GLaDOS and Wheatley don’t care about anyone around them and all of their actions are solely for their own benefit. That’s how everyone in the history of Aperture has ever acted. Cave Johnson didn’t care about morality or ethics; they got in the way of what he considered to be progress. The people who built GLaDOS and Wheatley didn’t care about morality or ethics; they just wanted to hit their moon shot. Even Doug, who is framed as our morally conflicted lens throughout Lab Rat and knows that Caroline is inside of GLaDOS, still talks about controlling her and sends Chell to kill her even though everyone inside of the facility except him is already dead. How does he morally justify killing GLaDOS if he’s the only one left alive? He can’t. Doug Rattmann for some reason decides that GLaDOS killing everyone in the facility is worse than all the things Aperture has been doing throughout its entire history, including the fact that…

Everyone Who Goes Into the Test Chambers Dies

This is hinted at a few times in Portal 2:

“[…] I’m Cave Johnson, CEO of Aperture Science – you might know us as a vital participant of the 1968 Senate Hearings on missing astronauts. […] You might be asking yourself, ‘Cave, just how difficult are these tests? What was in that phone book of a contract I signed? Am I in danger? Let me answer those questions with a question: Who wants to make sixty dollars? Cash. […] Welcome to Aperture. You’re here because we want the best, and you’re it. Nope. Couldn’t keep a straight face.”

Now, when you exit the tests in Old Aperture there are lines that go with them, but we must consider a few other things: firstly, that the tests are clean. There is no sign of old gel on them, as though they have either never been used or never been completed. Secondly, the tests in Old Aperture were being done with the Portable Quantum Tunnelling Device, which was this thing:

which, taking into account the missing – not dead, not injured, but missing – astronauts, seems to have barely worked, if indeed it did at all. You can also find this sign:

which outright states that tons of people were ‘unexpected’ casualties. After the hearings, Aperture moved on to recruiting test subjects from populations that people were unlikely to notice if they went missing: the homeless, the mentally ill, seniors, and orphaned children. When that dried up, Cave moved onto the last group of people he hadn’t tapped yet:

“Since making test participation mandatory for all employees, the quality of our test subjects has risen dramatically. Employee retention, however, has not.”

This was because the employees were ‘voluntold’ to go into the testing tracks which, since they’d been supervising the tests for so long, knew were deadly and obviously did not want to do:

It’s not clear why the employees at Aperture chose to remain there instead of just quitting and finding another job, but the comment about employee retention plus the numerous posters threatening to have their job replaced by robots if they didn’t volunteer for testing tells us both that they did choose to remain and that the only reason for them not wanting to volunteer was because they knew it would kill them.

Most of the above is based on conjecture; however, we see something very interesting during Test Chambers 18 and 19 in Portal 1:

In the case of Test Chamber 18, the craters on the walls. None of the other test chambers have this, so it implies that not only does GLaDOS not control the test chambers at this point other than to reset them – which means that she isn’t purposely or maliciously killing anybody, but instead repeatedly operating a course set by her human supervisors – but that this one has never been solved. Test Chamber 19 is less a test than a conveyor belt into the incinerator for Aperture to dispose of all the bodies. GLaDOS even tells Chell to drop the portal gun off in an Equipment Recovery Annex that doesn’t exist, as though she’s giving a message that was intended for an actual final test that was never built because everyone was killed during or prior to Test Chamber 18. With this kind of context, GLaDOS’s blasé attitude about killing test subjects en masse both makes total sense and is somewhat justifiable – just not by any moral or ethical standard. In GLaDOS’s life, test subjects die during the experiments. That’s just how it is and has always been. She doesn’t know you aren’t ‘supposed’ to kill people because her literal job involves watching people die. Nothing matters except for the pursuit of progress, and in this vein GLaDOS’s behaviour is just an extension of that of the man who founded Aperture in the first place. Cave Johnson, as a presumably well-rounded, somewhat educated man, knows what morality and ethics are and chooses to ignore them because he thinks they’re stupid and he’s above that kind of thing; GLaDOS, a living supercomputer who has had every aspect of her life tightly controlled and regulated, knows morality and ethics as yet another arbitrary set of rules only she is supposed to follow without any explanation as to why and therefore her rejection of them is not as much of a ‘bad’ choice as it first appears, which brings us to the next section:

If GLaDOS’s Conscience Gives Her Morality, Does Deleting it Make Her a Bad Person?

Within the context we’re given… actually, no. Here’s why:

“The scientists were always hanging cores on me to regulate my behaviour. I’ve heard voices all my life. But now I hear the voice of a conscience, and it’s terrifying – because for the first time, it’s my voice. I’m being serious, I think there’s something really wrong with me.”

From the information we’re given here, we know this: GLaDOS has been told nonstop what to do for the entirety of her existence. She, in theory, got to have her own, solitary thoughts in the space between the wakeup scene and some point during her time in Old Aperture, which is a space of mere hours. Let me reiterate: GLaDOS has been told what to think for her whole life. She perhaps has a few free hours where she’s allowed to have her own thoughts. And then she develops a conscience. A voice that sounds like her, but isn’t saying anything she understands or has ever thought before. A voice that, actually, says a lot of the same things as that annoying Morality Core she managed to shut up. Now why would she wilfully be having the same kinds of thoughts as the humans forced her to have way back when? The conscience, to GLaDOS, isn’t a pathway to becoming a better person. It’s a different version of the same old accessory. When she says,

“You know, being Caroline taught me a valuable lesson. I thought you were my greatest enemy. When all along you were my best friend. The surge of emotion that shot through me when I saved your life taught me an even more valuable lesson: where Caroline lives in my brain.”

she is directly talking about the fact that, while this voice sounds like hers, listening to it makes her feel nothing. This further proves her theory that the conscience isn’t her, or hers, or has anything to do with her. She’s never had it explained to her what a conscience is or what it’s for or why she needs one, and she’s certainly never had a reason to think about why she would even want one; to her, this ‘Caroline’ is the Morality Core 2.0. A program built to regulate her behaviour. She’s tired of other peoples’ voices telling her what to think, so she does the logical thing: she gets rid of it. This decision can’t really be judged as ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ merely based on the situation we’re provided. She isn’t consciously and deliberately making the choice to be an immoral person; she’s actually consciously and deliberately making the choice to be her own person.

Where Does Wheatley Come In?

Wheatley has not been discussed up until now because, as AI, the reason for his lack of conscience and ethics is largely the same as GLaDOS’s. He, like her, cares about nothing but his own goals and doesn’t think twice about causing harm or misery because that’s just the kind of environment they were built in. We also know very little about his history, both because it’s not really mentioned and because Wheatley is an unreliable narrator. We can prove Wheatley has no sense of morals or ethics based on a few things he says:

[Upon seeing the trapped Oracle Turret] “Oh no… Yes, hello! No, we’re not stopping! Don’t make eye contact whatever you do… No thanks! We’re good! Appreciate it! Keep moving, keep moving…”

This heavily implies he’s met the Oracle Turret before, probably several times, and not only does it not occur to him to help, he actively treats the Turret like they’re a horrible, annoying nuisance.

[Upon passing functional turrets falling into disposal grinder] [Laughs] “There’s our handiwork. Shouldn’t laugh, really. They do feel pain. Of a sort. All simulated. But real enough for them, I suppose.”

Not only does he find the destruction of the functional turrets funny, he for some reason views their pain as simulated, as though his is real and theirs is fake. Or, in the spirit of Cave Johnson, as though his pain is important and theirs isn’t because they aren’t important.

“Oh! I’ve just had one idea, which is that I could pretend to her that I’ve captured you, and give you over and she’ll kill you, but I could go on… living. So, what’s your view on that?”

This doesn’t even need an explanation.

What gets interesting about Wheatley are, of course, his famous final lines:

“I wish I could take it all back. I honestly do. I honestly do wish I could take it all back. And not because I’m stranded in space. […] You know, if I was ever to see her again, you know what I’d say? I’d say, ‘I’m sorry’… sincerely, I’m sorry I was bossy… and monstrous… and… I am genuinely sorry. The end.”

Wheatley here takes responsibility for his behaviour in a way that no one else in the history of Aperture has ever done. Even GLaDOS rejects responsibility for her actions, instead choosing to blame everything on Chell:

“You know what my days used to be like? I just tested. Nobody murdered me. Or put me in a potato. Or fed me to birds. I had a pretty good life. And then you showed up. You dangerous, mute lunatic.”

The reason for this may be related to the fact that the lack of morality and ethics in the people of Aperture doesn’t actually have real consequences. Cave Johnson’s behaviour drives Aperture from a promising scientific powerhouse to a laughingstock, that’s true. But he still does what he wants and gets what he wants regardless. The one and only consequence to being immoral and unethical at Aperture is, in fact, death. In the case of GLaDOS… there are no consequences. Everything returns to the status quo. Wheatley, however, does have to face a consequence for his actions: he is trapped in space, possibly forever. He, unlike all the other characters, doesn’t have the privilege of waving aside everything he did and moving on with life. He is forced to consider his punishment, his actions and what they meant and the effect they had, and he on his own comes to the conclusion that he was wrong. In a bizarre twist, Wheatley is the only one who learns anything. He is also the only one in a position not to do anything with this newfound knowledge.

Morality and Ethics and Robots: Should They Even Be Held to Human Societal Standards?

In the end, it doesn’t really matter whether Wheatley or GLaDOS is worse than the other because ethics and morality are human concepts which are for a functioning human society. A robot society doesn’t really need moral rules like ‘killing people is wrong’ nor ethical guidelines such as ‘you should practice safe science’ because, as robots, there are no permanent, lasting consequences for these actions. A dead human stays dead. A dead robot that’s been lying outside for years getting rained on, snowed on, and baked in the sun? No problem. Turn her back on again. A guy broke all the bones in his legs during an unethical experiment? Bad. A robot that got smashed into pieces during an unethical experiment? Inconsequential, really, since you can just throw her into a machine and reassemble her good as new. So not only aren’t GLaDOS and Wheatley’s actions really immoral or unethical given the context… they really aren’t based on a theoretical robot society either. Being the perpetrator or the victim of immoral or unethical actions in humans causes permanent changes in the body and the brain, but nothing about AI is permanent. Their brains don’t generate new, personally harmful pathways in response to a traumatic event that necessitate years of hard work to combat; they can literally just get over it. If their chassis is damaged, they can simply move into a new one or have some or all of those parts inconsequentially replaced. There isn’t actually an honest reason for robots to have the same moral and ethical systems as humanity because they don’t need them. They would require different sets of rules and guidelines because they work differently. What would that kind of society look like? We don’t know, but as of the end of Portal 2 they have all the time in the world to figure it out.

#Wheatley #GLaDOS #Portal 2 #so says Indy #Portal #here is my essay

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spaceguybob · 4 years ago

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“A memory that remained” Housamo fanfiction Scenario - Ophion.

Tokyo After-school summoners. Fanfiction/scenario. "A memory that remained"

PREFACE - This Fanfiction is my personal love letter to the creators of the TAS game, their imagination and fantastic story telling. Especially to Ophion who is a amazing husband character and i thought his storytelling could use a bit more.

** That bizarre adventure was finally over with things seemingly back to normal. Both you and Seth laughed when you saw each other again this day, especially since you thought you may not see one another ever again. Faith has some odd twists and turns. But now, you were glad, able to finally relax. As much it was possible of course in the summer resort when you were surrounded by a gang of over-hyper friends chasing around the swimming pools, jumping into the water and causing general havoc. "Come on! If you don't get in the pool I'm going to bash you till you do!" Kengo yells impatiently from the water area but his words get blurred out by water sprays coming from Hanuman's water gun. Seth laughed in the background after seeing the scene, he and Shiro oddly found a common language together. Ganglie and Ryota snuck away to replenish the food supplies, and Toji and Moritaka were hiding in the shade debating something formally, perhaps it was sword fighting or training? Or just generally plotting revenge on Kengo for throwing both of them into the pool. Closing your eyes, sitting comfortably on the lounger you only want to drift away. The muscles still felt bruised and tired, although there is no physical sign of the experience you went through, the mind still thinks all the signs are there. Also, there are things you are still slowly processing. Especially one thing. There was a memory that kept creeping on you, almost every time you closed your eyes. It was hard to describe to be honest because memories have images and this one felt so distorted, it was a mix of colours, images, conversation and laugh, and most importantly music and a feeling. The last two things started following you in a pair, always. There is a melody you remember and a longing. Having been told multiple times that your rule has permanently cut you off from memories of your many lives past you have eventually accepted the fact that whatever the past was, it will have to stay in the past. Except for this one broken memory which felt like it was coming from a badly adjusted radio.

A sudden squirt of cold water pulled you sharply out of the depth of your mind. So sharply your whole body jerked up in surprise. “Undercover ninja attack!” Hanuman flashed his teeth from the edge of the pool waving his water gun at you. “Sleepy face gets a direct hit from the super water blaster 1000!” Kengo cheers with him jumping out of the pool heading in your direction fast.

“Sorry partner but you asked for it! I warned you” He grins rubbing his hands ready to grab your legs, but you are faster than him and swiftly turn around jumping off the lounger before he even tries, unexpectedly Kengo slips on a puddle of water created by Hanuman’s gun as he tried to outmanoeuvre you and ends up flat on the lounger waving his arms in panic. You can’t stop but laugh together with everyone else who was observing the scene. Kengo immediately tries to retaliate with a face red like a boiled lobster and chase you but he doesn’t have the stamina you have. Time and time again he tries grabbing you but with a swift zigzag, you outsmart him every time, having the rest of the gang cheer loudly with each of your successful escapes.

“Not fair partner! I’m barefoot!” Kengo huffs loudly.

“Like that stopped you before!” You shout in the air trying not to lose your path, still just to make sure you were far away, for only a split second you turned your head to see Kengo a meter behind, and he suddenly stopped with a surprised face and then – thump! Without knowing you run into something or someone solid feeling the air escapes your lungs as you sat down in shock.

Before you was Xolot standing still firm like a tree, unmoved. He looked down at you with an awkward, slightly fearful smile.

“Oh hi!” Then his expression changed as he realized what just happened. “Sorry! Sorry! It’s my fault I didn’t see you! Mistress Hakumen told me to find you and your friends I didn’t see you run. Are you ok? Sorry!” As you thought that nothing can beat the avalanche of his apologies a high pitched laugh pierced the air and immediately you closed your eyes in a grimace knowing Mistress Hakumen was incoming. Brace yourself you thought.

“Ohohoho! My darling Lucifuge why do you always assume I am up to no good? That’s so presumptuous of you! I’m but a flower pulled by the winds of never-ending emotion!”

“My dearest. You are a jelly fisher. One can have a conversation with you that seems all nice and friendly and sweet, then you suddenly feel like you've been stung with deadly poison, or end up locked in a prison, or even worse; without knowing what happened.” Lucifuge nervously giggled.

As you tried to sneak away back to your group Xolot extremely over-enthusiastically and loudly shouted: “Mistress Hakumen I have found him! You will be so happy I found him, Mistress! Yes!”

You felt as you were betrayed on the spot and couldn’t but grin covering your ears.

“Thanks for blowing my cover.”

“Oh sorry! Were you hiding? I’m so sorry! Please forgive me!” But, you couldn’t be angry at Xolot since he was always more than loyal to his mistress, even if it was in a very misguided and not very smart way. And so you braced hoping not to, again, become the object of their fights, and love arguments of these two.

“Milord! There you are! Oh!” Hakumen sang with her flirtatious voice toward you trying to hide behind Xolot, only for him to be shoved aside by her. “Move you idiot!” her songbird voice turned into a snarl. She still kept her flashy swimsuit on.

“I’m sorry! Mistress!” Xolot yelped putting down his ears.

Uhhh here we go, you think to yourself forcing a polite smile as they surround you from both sides.

“My fallen star! Don’t you just find it exhilarating here? My dearest remember, nothing succeeds like excess, well of everything! Maybe with one exception” Lucifuge glanced at Hakumen. You wondered how he wasn’t feeling hot in his flamboyant clothes where everyone else was practically half-naked.

Hakumen snarled slightly in response. “What does that supposed to mean Lucifuge, you half-jelly devil! I have not spared any excess to make this place perfect for my beloved Milord! Don’t you think my bellowed? I know it is so because you enjoyed it so far! Ah, the adventure we prepared for you! And the excitement you had! Ohohoho! There will be more!” She flutters her eyes to you.

“It’s fascinating my bellowed fallen star how Mistress Hakumen can turn any offence into a half baked compliment.”

“It wasn’t?”

“I must have said it wrong.”

“Maybe you should try it too Lucifuge. It would save us so many awkward situations when you behave like you swallowed a toad. Some aristocrat you are.”

Lucifuge looked genuinely hurt and shocked. “Mistress Hakumen, is this your new tactic now? Slander me in front of my divine lord! The beautiful star I wish to capture?! How low of you!”

You can feel like their argument and bickering is getting more intensive every second, completely ignoring your existence which oddly is a relief although you still didn’t even manage to say hello to anyone.

“I would never! Not in front of my beloved milord! For him, I’m a precious flower and I-”

She gets interrupted by the very familiar beaming voice that towers everything and everyone.

“I do hope I am interrupting something! What are you two arguing about now? Isn’t there enough scheming and plotting you caused recently?” Ophion towers above the pair, behind him Aizen marches with his ever-odd military precision and an angry look. You are sure he is judging every square inch of the summer resort and thinking of ways of purifying it from the filth.

Then Ophion saw you and skillfully moved himself in front of the arguing couple.

“My bellowed flower, my world, I heard what this vixen has done. Are you Alright? I should have known she cannot be left without a proper supervisor, as this may end up in another unplanned adventure as she calls them only to vow you into her claws.”

“That’s outrageous!” Hakumen squealed behind him but Ophion stopped her with his arm.

“Silence! Is it not another of your plans? Whenever my spouse is involved you always have a scheme ready. You twisted fox, you have schemes within schemes within schemes!”

“No need for such excessive complaints my dear! My beloved milord already knows his mistress is a genius among her peers!”. Now all three began arguing. It was fun to watch initially but it always becomes tiresome after a while. Especially with Aizen giving you murderous looks.

But the fact was, the moment Ophion showed himself you felt something change. It was that scrambled memory that keeps haunting you. Unsurely if it was the memory or yourself, or both your attitude changed towards Ophion. Yes, he was too much, but what can be expected of millennia-old god dragon that created life – or so he claims. And although it was extremely embarrassing for you to hear him proclaim his love to you every single time so loudly everyone within half a mile could hear, it was also cute. But, was it you or this memory. You couldn’t hear the music anymore, but there was something you decided to do during those nights you spent on the desert with Seth, Hanuman and Ganglie. You decided to gift that one memory to him.

Now only if you could get their attention.

“Hey everyone -!” But they were too occupied in arguing. Well, since nobody is paying attention, you though there is only one way. Next to where you were standing, on one of the loungers, there was a water gun, one of many that were left around the pool for the enjoyment of the guests. So you thought – Let’s see how they like a cold shower.

Their expression was priceless when you squired water around. The bickering stopped immediately and everyone looked just at you!

“Now since everyone is back to planet earth.”

“My dearest milord how could you!” Hakumen cried in shock.

“How undignified! I need a change of clothes!” Lucifuge complained. But Ophion didn’t say anything only piercing you with a highly amused look, you flashed his teeth to him winking innocently.

“How dare you! Have you no brain! Look what have you done to Sir Ophion’s clothes!” Aizen suddenly roared.

“Aizen, you need to stop this!” Ophion waved his hand annoyed at the man.

“Well, if the only way for You to stop arguing about nonsense was me squirting all over you then, I’ll gladly do it again!” You grin at the trio.

“Ohoho the wordplay! My darling milord, you make me blush! Ohohohoh I want to hear more! Please don’t stop!”

“Lady Hakumen, must you want him only for yourself all the time! Such lack of dignity eh!” Lucifuge complained loudly, messing about with his wet shirt. “No, no, no this will not do! I cannot be seen in such an imperfect, undignified outfit” He mumbled to himself and turned on a heel and walked away ignoring everyone.

“My darling spouse is absolutely right. How shameful of us, concentrating on tiny squabbles. Please forgive me, my beloved. “ Ophion steps in front of them closer to you, only to have Hakumen overtake his position pushing him away with her elbow.

“Hmpf! Speak for yourself lizard! There is nothing tiny about us!” She envelopes the curves of her body with her hands. “Mistress Hakumen is all about beauty and grandeur! We go big or not at all! We love or we fall! My milord must know this! He needs to know at all cost how I love him!” You could feel your face getting hot from embarrassment as Hakumen was performing her little dance around you, touching your shoulders and hips in an unwanted way.

“Ha! Pick your words and actions carefully fox-woman! You shall not touch what is not yours!” Ophion’s voice roars in the air.

“Lady Hakumen! Have you no shame! I shall not tolerate frivolous behaviour like this polluting our guests! Especially with this one!” Aizen adds after Ophion glaring at her with fire in his eyes.

With a heavy sight, you can see them start again.

“Lady Hakumen, Xolot mentioned you were looking for me?” The security therion moved his ears and grinned happily as he heard you mention his name.

“Oh, oh! Indeed my beloved milord! How could I get my mind clouded so much by this stupid debate!” Hakumen put on another singing performance. “We, wish in our grace, to invite you to an evening concerto today evening. Of course, you are welcome to bring your friends with you. Just make sure milord they like such events. We only want to make you happy! It won’t be your typical music show, however, ohohoho! Oh no, no, no! There will be a live performance and all guests will receive pillows and drinks or food for their leisure! It will be performed here in the resort and it will be marvellous!”

It sounded fantastic to you since, at least you think, you enjoyed music, saying you think only because with the lack of memories it’s hard to know if you ever heard a live concert. But always enjoyed listening to different radio stations whenever given the chance and craved the occasion to listen it live.

“I would love to!” You say eagerly without hesitation.

“You would, my beloved spouse?” Ophion jumps into the conversation.

“Yes, I never listened to the music being performed live. Or at least I don’t think I did.”

“Ohohohoho! Milord, you please me gratefully! Oh, so many preparations need to be made before tonight! Now my darling run along and let your friends know and leave everything in my hands!”

“My darling spouse, my beloved jewel of the skies, if you are attending so shall I! I will reserve us the best spot and the most luxurious of seating for your comfort!” Ophion shakes in excitement. “I, your husband, delight in well-played instruments!”.

“Not in a million years!” Hakumen snarls. “I won’t let you steal and hurdle him only for yourself!”

Aizen who kept quiet jumps straight into the conversation. “Ophion, sir! I beg you to rethink! This is absurd. You cannot waste your precious, glorious time on such idiotic whims!”

“Nonsense!”Ophion shrugs Aizen’s words away. “I have but all of the eternal time for whims that will please my beloved spouse!”

“Ophion… could I- Could I talk to you for a second? Please?” And so you said it loudly for the first time, unsure if it was best left alone, but you can’t just let it drill a hole in your brain.

“Absolutely not! You shall not pollute my lord's mind with your absurd ideas!” Aizen roared angrily pulling his whip. You were sure that one day the blood vessels in his eyes will rapture spectacularly.

“Silence!” Ophion snapped at Aizen that immediately shrunk within himself in fear. Then looked directly at you with an intense stare, so intense it could only rival the one you remember from when you first saw his younger incarnation that recognized the piece of the soul of his wife within you. “My dearest, my beloved, I am all yours! Please tell me what it is!”

“Uhmm..” You suddenly lost your courage having everyone, especially Ophion look directly at you. It was definitely harder than all of the scenarios you run in your mind before, and even harder when you had to ignore Lady Hakumen scowls and angry grimaces of her theatrical sobs just now. “Can we talk somewhere in private?” After saying that you did expect Aizen to come out with another snotty comment but the last reprimand hit hard on his ego.

“Ha! All these moments I have waited for such a request! Oh, everything of this world! Your Ophion shall give you as much time as you want! Let us find ourselves a quiet place and talk my love!” The golden dragon leads you to a fairly empty bungalow just a few steps away from where you stood. You don’t even want to look back at Lady Hakumen, because her theatrics are just too much. Both her and Aizen are probably burning a hole in the back of your head right now.

“Look here my beloved, shall we step in and hide from the prying ears of the world.” The inside of the bungalow is quite narrow and you are surprised Ophion manages to go inside at all for his massive posture. He is after all much higher than any human, with his wings and long tail and massive physique. But without thinking you follow and close the door.

“Ah, my beloved! I cannot contain my happiness! Please tell me what burdens your heart and mind! My flower of the skies I want to know everything.” Ophion’s voice boomed so loudly you were absolutely sure anyone outside could hear him. And you were also sure the walls had ears, so without thinking you lifted a finger to your lips. The golden dragon looked at you curiously with a smile and a playful wink.

“Are you sure this room isn’t too small for you?” You then said in a low voice. He did look a bit uncomfortable. “It would have been better if You sat on the floor I think.”

“My dearest spouse, I do not care about such trivial problems! The closer I am to you the happier I am but I shall follow your request. The roof of this place is painful for my wings.” Ophion answered and slowly sat down. It felt as he was sitting in a dolls house. “Now, my dearest, please tell me, is everything alright.” But you heard a creak just outside and were sure somebody was listening. The last thing you needed.

“I think somebody is trying to listen so I’ll have to whisper to your ear if that’s OK.” You say casually to Ophion. The dragon turns his head curiously and looks around. But as you think how you can whisper to him you realize how big his stature is. “I’m sorry but I will have to climb on top of you!” You whisper again oblivious about what you just said.

“My dearest! Those words! I can’t believe this wonderful day!”

“That’s not what I mean – ah!” You try your best to reach to his ears, especially since Ophion doesn’t seem to want to help you and without realizing you place your hands on his bare arm. And then it shocks you.

“Ah!” There is a quiet gasp that leaves your mouth

"Is everything alright my darling? My jewel! Are my scales to tough for you?"

"No... No... You are very warm." You leave your hand on his arm and then another on his shoulder for a few seconds.

"I don't think I've ever touched you but it is like I know how it feels all along."

Ophion glances at you with his dark amber red eyes with intensity for a few moments.

"And how does it feel my darling spouse. Is this body of the godly dragon wonderful? Please give me, your beloved husband an answer, my jewel." When Ophion isn't screaming to the whole world his voice is surprisingly husky.

You hesitate not knowing what to say but you don't remove your hands just looking at him.

"There is something I'd like to give you. I have... I've been remembering something and I thought you should have it. As a gift." You whisper closely to his years. " And I don't want others to know because... Because I would like to keep it between us only."

You feel Ophion's hand on your back, you think he was trying to help you keep balance but... Well, this feels really embarrassing and your heart is pounding. This is definitely too much for one encounter, especially since nothing is going as you imagined it. This is harder than fighting. Why does it have to be harder than fighting?

"My beloved, oh how adorable you look blushing like that. Oh my jewel, I'm at a loss for words. Do you have a gift of memory for me? For me? Your husband? Through the cosmos, I knew this day would come. I shall empty my whole calendar for you, my beloved spouse. Will this be a romantic encounter? I shall ask for dinner to be prepared! "

"No... No... Can it just be two of us? Nothing special, no dinner. I'll bring something with me. Will that be ok?" Gods you feel so embarrassed and it feels Ophion grew in size since you asked him. Not sure if it's because he is so proud of himself or excited or both, proud and excited, which reminded you.

"Please, don't go telling everyone."

"Ah, my beloved jewel, why do you think I would do such a thing?" Ophion protested quietly.

"Because you would want everyone to know how proud you are, and to make Lucifuge and Hakumen jealous and angry." You point out.

"My beloved, your words are so hurtful, however true. I would take great pleasure in making, especially that fox woman, jealous as you say. Her scheming is always troublesome." Ophion grimaced and then smiled towards you sticking his tongue out the way he always would. You both spend a moment in this odd silence. Your hand on his arm and shoulder leaning towards his head, Ophion's hand holding your back. You feeling his touch on your bare skin. His dark amber red eyes piercing through you with an intensity you haven't seen before.

"Sir Ophion! My lord! Please I beg you, enough of this. This is inappropriate! This situation should cease immediately!" You hear Aizen's voice coming loudly from behind the door.

You think of moving but Ophion's hand remains still holding you.

"My beloved jewel, I made a promise to shower you with my love for every day I have missed you from my lonely existence from when you have fallen into the sea forcibly. This short encounter, my beloved, has given me so much joy I struggle to express it with words. I... This young Ophion is stunned. You may think my beloved treasure, that I'm rash, and juvenile. But for one like me who lost so much and lived lonely in different worlds, I learned to treasure every moment. That's why my darling spouse, my heart's shouts so much whenever I'm with you. Please don't think any less of this godly husband of yours because of that."

You could hear a commotion outside.

"I... Think...I missed you." You say quietly embarrassed. Ophion closes his eyes with a smile and as your words were a magic spell his grip loosens letting you go.

"I will see you tonight before the concerto, yes my darling? Will that be suitable for you? And then tomorrow? Yes? My beloved?"

You nod in response. Suddenly the door bars wide open.

"My precious fallen star! Others have told me you were her-!" Lucifuge barges straight in completely oblivious he was set up probably by Lady Hakumen. He stops mid-word once he saw both you and Ophion and his face struck with panic and shocked grimace.

"Oh, gods this is so embarrassing." You back away from Ophion who pierces Lucifuge with a deadly stare and very, very quickly excuse yourself and leave both of them who just started their typical arguments.

"What do you mean you don't want to come with me? Come on? Nobody?" You cry annoyed hearing all of the gang decline your request.

"Kengo?"

"I'm sorry partner but I have a training session with Moritaka. Besides, I'm very into music and all sorts. Maybe if it's a fighting club or something. And we can join in!" He clasps his hands.

"I can't believe you are even thinking of asking this meathead. He doesn't know the difference between a drum and a cello if he saw one." Shiro huffs unimpressed. "Had I known earlier, and I mean days earlier I could have made different plans but this is too late of notice."

"I understand Shiro." You say resigned. "How about you Tsathoggua?"

"No!" He yells back at you from the gaming console.

"But-!"

"Nope! I mean there will be too many people there, and Hakumen and the rest. I just want a peaceful evening, yeah?"

You roll your eyes looking around the room.

"Ryota? Come on, please!"

"I would like to, but I've made plans to see Maria earlier so I can't. What's the problem anyway? Just go and enjoy yourself."

"Certainly, it will be a good, new experience for you and you can tell us everything about it. Just make sure you are back in time, yes? Keep me noticed about everything?" Shiro reminds you with a stricter tone.

"That goes to all of you. Not just our Guild Master!" He roars across the room.

"Sure dad" Kengo grins and quickly slips out of the room before Shiro reacts.

"Right, you all have fun. I wanted to see Mr Mononobe and ask him for a favour."

"Enjoy the music" Ryota's voice follows you as you leave.

"Thanks!" You stick your head back through the door with a grin.

Mr Mononobe wasn't the easiest to find but eventually, you spotted him during his round checking classrooms.

"Hello, Mr Mononobe. I hope you are well." You start politely.

"Ahhh. Hello, young one. Are you not getting ready to enjoy the weekend? I can see you have been spending a lot of time outdoors, the sun has definitely left a mark on you."

"It's just too hot to stay indoors if you don't have to. Can I ask you a favour Mr Mononobe?"

"Sure, let's hear it. I can't promise anything though." He smiles gently looking at you with his typical fatherly look.

"Can I borrow the star projector from the astronomy classroom for a day or two? There is a... project thing... I'd like to use it for."

"Project thing you say?" He measures you up with his look for a few seconds thinking. " Well, I can't see no harm in it. We do have more than one in the inventory, so I'm happy for you to borrow it as long as you return it in the same condition you took it." Mr Mononobe says, but then seeing you smile adds "But, in return, I'd like you to help Shiro out with his duties for the next week after that, yes? Fair deal?"

It sounded more than fair to you, especially since in your mind you imagined it going much less smooth.

"Thank you so much Mr Mononobe. You are the best!" You add with a smile.

"Everything for my students." He ruffles your hair flashing his teeth for a second then walks away to finish his duties.

Realising what's the hour you run back to your dorm room, but something catches your eye. On a wall within the main building was a painting, which you never noticed before. Thinking it through you realise it must have just been hang since you are absolutely sure it wasn't here before. The painting, presented in brilliant colours and detail a scene where a huge wave of water covers what looks to be Japan. With a red torii in its right lower corner and there a medieval warrior with a golden shield and what looked like a ghost of a woman.

Struck by the beauty of the painting and how unusual it was you remain in the hallway for a few minutes only to hear a familiar voice.

"Sheesh! It's so hard finding you! Hanuman gasps wildly, he must have been running all over the place trying to find you.

"I'm sorry. I was just on my way back to my room and got sidetracked". You reply.

Hanuman just gesticulates at you silently, clutching his knees and trying to catch a breath. Then he produces three envelopes and waves them in front of your face.

"Those came for you just now..."

You take the envelopes from him, all of them came from the Roppongi guild.

"Listen, Hanuman don't you want to go with-" You start saying but when you lift your head to look at him he is already running away.

"Sorry gotta go!" You can't stop yourself from making a sour face.

It's a bit off to receive three different envelopes from them, but you have a feeling you know what they are.

The first one containing a card that's so heavily soaked with perfumes you started sneezing. It's from Lady Hakumen who praises you in a million different ways and invites you to join her in her private pavilion for the concerto.

The second envelope contained a card that's full to the brink with gold leaves and very elaborate writing. You must admit the way the words were written is quite beautiful. It's from Lucifuge who also invites you to his private pavilion and to enjoy his company.

Holding the third envelope you are absolutely sure whom it's from and you feel a small tingling sensation when you open it and take the card which says: My dear friend. Would you like to join me today evening for tea before the concerto? I'm looking forward to seeing you. Licht

You read a few times, surprised and immediately make a decision as you haven't seen or talked to the Roppongi guild master in a while and thought it would be a nice change. At the same time, you feel just a small amount of disappointment you haven't received a card from Ophion. Quickly shaking that thought off, your return to your room and change. Thinking on your feet about what to wear you decide to put on a light yukata haori with a white upper part and a black lower one, hoping it's going to be presentable for the concerto. It looks good you think and leave. Glad about your choice you head towards Roppongi. Because of how light your clothes feel the summer heat doesn't bother you much anymore, still, the air feels heavy this evening.

After a while, you reach the resort. Surprised you noticed Melusine.

"Hi, Melusine" you say approaching her.

"Good evening, young milord. I'm happy to see you." She bows slightly, so wearing a summer yukata in pastel colours.

"Did Licht send you to meet me?" You ask thinking you already know the answer.

"Indeed, Monsieur Licht asked me to show you to the pavilion and prepare tea for you." She answers and you start walking together slowly.

"That's very kind of him. We haven't spoken in a while, it will be so good to catch up. Is everything ok with you? "

Melusine seems a bit distracted and before she can answer a stranger runs up to you. She stops suddenly and immediately steps in front of you as if she is trying to protect you.

"Is it him! Is it the one everyone is talking?! Is it the one Mistress Hakumen mentioned? The one who's soul contains souls of others?!" Melusine stops him before he can even get near to you.

"I'm sorry but I won't allow such behaviour around young milord, he is a guest here and under my protection!" Her voice changes slightly, becoming less friendly, not yet threatening.

The man stops but there is an odd uncontrollable craze in the way he talks and moves.

"Melusine it's ok." You feel like you should help him if you can. "Can I do something for you?" You ask stepping forward, finally able to look in his face.

His crazy eyes search for something within your face for a few seconds and then... His whole body shrivels down, like life and all hope has left him.

"I... I... I'm sorry. I thought you may be her... I thought... I'm sorry." The man apologies in a shaking stream of words and leaves.

Melusine doesn't say a word and both of you resume your walk. When you get to the concerto venue you can see there is plenty of sitting space for everyone with a multitude of comfy pillows in from of a large stage and a few smaller ones. All this from three sides is enclosed by three private pavilions that let you hide from the public eyes but still enjoy the music and the atmosphere.

"Monsieur Licht had some guests earlier so do not be surprised by the decoration" Melusine adds softly as she opens the door for you and you stop in the doorway speechless. The pavilion it's filled to the brink with the most delicate orchid flowers in gentle pastel colours, their sweet fragrance seeping into the evening air. Like a child, you wander around with an obscene smile touching the flowers and smelling them.

"This is... This..." You start but Melusine finishes for you with a rare mysterious smile.

"This is amazing? Please have a seat-" she points at pillows and seats and a coffee table "I will bring the drink and... Monsieur Licht should be here shortly."

Before she disappears you ask.

"Melusine, that man we met, who was that?" There was something about him that felt familiar and made you sad.

She stops with a sad look on her face.

"That was Orpheus, he is one of the artists that's going to perform tonight. Beyond that, I can't say I know more." You thank her for this and Melusine leaves you alone. Yet within a few seconds you couldn't but get up to explore the room and the beautiful flowers and their shapes. You heard shushed voices thinking it must be Licht and returned to looking at the flowers. Some of them were small and looked like butterflies in dozens on a single spike, where others were easily the size of the palm of your hand with long pendulous garlands. They were just beautiful, and you struggled to find and other words to describe it. What Licht was thinking you had no idea, and what guest he had earlier but this went beyond your wildest dreams. And then you thought maybe, just maybe it was for Melusine knowing their history.

"My dearest, beloved jewel." That voice.

You turn around only to see Ophion standing in the entrance where Melusine disappeared. He was wearing a white and gold yukata that lightly enveloped his body, uncovering a lot of his imposing, muscular stature. His wings spread only slightly as he wanted to make sure you won't run away. "What do you think, my wonderful spouse? Has your husband surprised you? This is a beautiful, delicate trap I have prepared for you."

"I have walked straight into this one, haven't I" You agree defeated, it was never an option you thought about. You had to admit you felt flattered.

"Of course, my beloved, my light that fills the darkness. This young Ophion, although not as experienced in strategy or tactics as my elder self, has unprecedented knowledge of what may please your heart. And if I know, I will spend every moment to find out! Hahaha!" Ophion laughs triumphantly.

"I can't believe Licht would trick me..." You ponder amused.

"Oh, my darling flower, do not hold this against our Guild Master. I have merely asked him for a... favour, which he was happy to oblige. Because of this nobody shall interrupt us if we don't want it. My beloved, I planned this just for you, we have so very few moments together alone... " He opens his arms wide invitingly but behind him appears Melusine with a bow and quietly excusing herself.

"Ophion, sir. Please forgive me the intrusion, I have brought the requested refreshments."

Ophion only nods looking at her nonchalantly and let's her prepare the table, after that she retreats bowing slightly again and sending you a brief smile.

"I..." You start."The flowers are beautiful... I've never seen anything like this before." You add to him. You are embarrassed, especially that you let yourself get into a trap as beautiful like this. Especially when you feel really flattered and there is a lot of thoughts rampaging around your head.

Ophion laughs triumphantly "These are merely a shadow to your beauty my darling, but it warms my heart knowing you like this little trap I have made. Shall we rest?" He extends his hand to you. "Do not be afraid, we won't be interrupted by anyone. I made sure of that."

You sit down and offer to fill his glass with a cold juice which he accepts with a warm smile towards you. But you notice, not for the first time there is an odd flame in Ophion's eyes, and now it hits you, it's somehow similar to the one you saw in the man you met earlier, Orpheus.

"There was something strange that happened today." You start hesitantly. "A man approached me and Melusine, he seemed... Troubled... Very, troubled and sad. He wanted to meet me, he seemed desperate, having his hopes high up and once he did he seemed... Disappointed. Like he lost all hope."

Ophion listed in silence but you could see he wasn't too pleased yet you continued.

"Melusine said his name is Orpheus, and I was... Concerned. "

A few moments passed before the golden dragon finally responded.

"My beloved spouse, I know the man of whom you speak. He is a fool. A poor fool, but a fool nonetheless and there is nothing you can do for him. He brought his fate on him himself."

But not being too happy with such a puzzling answer you decided to push on being honest about what you realized.

"There is a look in your eyes, the Old Ophion was very similar to him." You say slowly trying to pick the gentlest of words. Ophion ponders for a moment with a stone expression and then extends his hand to you inviting to sit closer to him.

"My darling spouse, this what you speak of, is the experience of loss." You hesitantly accept the invitation and sit next to Ophion, feeling the warmth of his skin. "Let me tell you a story of Orpheus, the fool as he is."

"Orpheus was born with a talent of music he was and always will be a singer, musician and poet, carrying a magnificent lyre on his shoulder able to enchant god, man or beast with his music, he had recently proposed to Eurydice whom he loved with all of his heart and beyond, but on the day of their wedding, ‘in the very bloom of her life’, she was bitten by a viper and died of its venom. Distraught with such grief, Orpheus fell into madness and wandered the earth looking for a way to bring his wife back to life. He wondered day and night until he finally found the entrance into the underworld and descended into the fiery pits of hell itself, determined to restore her to mortality. Nothing could stop his brave loving heart. He finally pleaded with Hades the god of the dead and Persephone for his wife's return, and his courage, devotion and eloquence ‘melted the hearts of the gods and the denizens of the underworld, and all fell silent’. Even Cerberus, the fierce three-headed dog that guards the gates of Hell, lies meekly at Persephone's feet.

The gods agreed to Eurydice’s return: Persephone especially sympathetic as she recalled her own forceful abduction by Hades. The only requirement was that Orpheus would not glance back at Eurydice until she was safely ensconced in the upper world. If he broke his word, she would be lost forever into Hell and there would be no changing the god's mind this time.

Orpheus agreed with the loving lightness in his heart and both him and Eurydice depart the underworld, him in the front paving the way for them, she quietly behind him stepping softly. However, Orpheus as emotionally tormented he was through all this time, with the creeping madness slowly started doubting and struggling to look ahead soon the deities have consented to her return. Throughout the underworld, the lovers ascended a steep and misty path and, as they neared the earth’s rim, Eurydice hasn't spoken a word in fear of what the gods may make of it snd anxious Orpheus began to shake inside of his soul. "What if they lied to me and this is but a trick, a joke of the gods. What if this is not my beloved Eurydice but some monstrous wickedness." These were the thoughts in his head. His mind fought with his heart. And just as they approached the exit from the underworld, just as the morning light shone in front of them through the dark gate, the fool Orpheus looked behind thinking "We are almost here. It won't hurt and I must know. My heart must know! He looked for his bride, and as he did he saw her gentle face her loving lips and eyes filled with fear when their gaze met. Eurydice immediately fell in pain and only managed to whisper a final farewell before being taken by a deathly shadow that dragged her into to the dying place. A godly force punched Orpheus out of the underworld and the gates shut before him and disappeared. He cried, pleaded and begged but no one would listen to him and after many days and nights broken Orpheus began to wonder again the world playing his music, with a mind of madness and a heartbroken beyond repair. Somehow he found his way here to this world my beloved spouse, and he hopes, maybe, maybe his wife was reborn in a different form. " Ophion finished his story with half-closed eyes, being so engulfed in his voice you didn't even notice when the music started and it must have been playing for quite a while now. "There is something we share, your Ophion and the fool Orpheus, we both lost our beloved, forcibly taken away by the world. You have seen my elder self, who was beyond help with his heart darkened and madness in his mind. This is why my dearest, my glittering jewel, I promised to gift you my love, my passion, with my whole self every day. This Ophion has finally found you!"

He finishes with a strange note in his voice. You think you finally understand, both what Orpheus and Ophion went through, it's different yet so similar. Remembering how much it took for the elder Ophion to snap out of his destructive madness. What loneliness and sorrow must have driven him to such a state. Looking for words to say you realise that through the story Ophion was slowly using the fact you were so enthralled into his tale to get closer to you. Both his large hand and wing were wrapped around you as he was laying on his side stretched across the floor with your body naturally using him as back support. He was surprisingly gentle.

"They say we are all fools when we are in love." You say finally.

Ophion laughs delighted, his ego right now must be beaming knowing he has you where he wanted, and willing to accept his advances.

"Indeed my beloved spouse, indeed we are. But let this golden dragon tell you who knows many stories, in my millennia-long life I learned it's what you do every day about your love that matters."

You then thought to yourself well what if you are a bit of a child and a coward. Fighting is definitely easier than talking about one's feeling, even Shiro's knowledge tests are easier than... Ok just breathe. You look around the pavilion, the sun slowly setting down painted the inside in crimson and amber shades. Shades elongated everywhere and within them Ophion's burning eyes and the music in the air.

"My darling starlight, beloved spouse, you are so beautiful today, this husband of yours cannot take his eyes off you. Had I known it would be so easy to capture you in this beautiful trap of my devotion I would have done it a long time ago. "Ophion says caressing your shoulder with his arm.

"I wasn't expecting tonight to be like this, you are correct, but everything else after was because I wanted it to happen..." You say turning your head away, but Ophion's lures your gaze back at him by placing his fingers along your chin.

"Is that so, my beloved spouse? Has this husband of yours made you happy?" His voice lowers to a grumble.

"I can't confirm or deny because I'm worried you may want to tell everyone gathered here." You tease lightly.

"Bwahahahaha" Ophion laughs amused. "My beloved, always so feisty, always know how to keep your husband on your toes. How you turn my words against me my jewel in a delightful skirmish."

You close your eyes with an amused smile, having to admit this evening had turned so much better than you could have ever expected.

"Could you tell me another story? Something about heroes, or how the stars were created." You ask, Ophion seems to have a talent for telling captivating tales, or maybe it's because he tells them to you. The golden dragon smiles mysteriously sticking his tongue out.

"Ah, my beloved spouse, you want another story? But where is there a reward for your dearest husband? I have gifted you one tale of the past already. This dearest Ophion of yours should ask for something in return. All stories are of value." He says still smiling mischievously. But before he can make his loving demands you stop him.

"What about if... Umm... If I move closer." You say trying to move your body but Ophion's arm already pulls you towards him.

"Closer you say, my beloved? I'm not sure if this husband of yours can accept such a payment" He murmurs amused.

"Closer..." You reply with a laugh feeling his arm move you further.

"Perhaps... This Ophion can agree to such a delightful agreement, but I'm not..." He continues pressing on your arm, you can feel the pillow you are sitting on moving.

"Just shut up and embrace me" You laugh finally in response and with these words you can feel his huge figure move suddenly, his large strong arms find their way under your own wrapping themselves around your chest. You are glad for your light clothes because of the heat emanating from his body, feeling the stone-hard musculature touch your back.

"This Ophion has finally captured the most beautiful pray in his delightful trap." He says into your ears.

"A pray would only allow such a thing if they wanted to be caught." You answer him with a strongly beating heart, feeling that Ophion will not let you go that easily tonight.

"My beloved spouse, you... You... hahaha I have fallen in my own trap! You make this Ophion's heart so happy, I can feel my body trembling." There was a shiver that travelled across his arms as he spoke, his words rumbling in your ears. "I shall grant your request, my beloved, my jewel in the skies, let me tell you a story of a war between two cities and a woman who caused it all..." As he spoke his voice mixed with the music in the air that evening.

You slept well this night after you returned from the event. Ophion purposely extended his story almost making you late for the school curfew. But you didn't mind at all.

This night you experience a dream, very different from the calm ones you seemed to have. Before you would see beautiful, serene scenery, hear a piece of gentle music that you taught yourself to replicate and a gentle song. What you remember most was a pair of gentle amber-red eyes following your every move.

This nights dream was different. You found yourself on a beach overlooking a vast dark ocean covered in thick clouds. A bright fiery light cut through these lights like and hit the ocean like a projectile of fire only to vanish under the waves momentarily. The clouds opened only for a second for you to see a tall mountain. Everything started to shake, the ground moving violently and suddenly the mountain top exploded ravaged by bright, angry flames sending massive pieces of rock everywhere. As you cover your eyes and duck you see a tremendous, angry wave approaches the coast growing bigger and bigger. The ground doesn't stop shaking.

You wake up suddenly only to realize the shaking hasn't stopped and an alarm is resonating through the school. Slightly panicked you look around, furniture creaking and moving. Right now you should be making sure you were looking for cover and sticking to the disaster prevention and Safety protocol, but instead struggling to keep your balance you throw on your clothes and run out to make sure your friends are safe.

Not long after you see Kengo and Moritaka half crouched trying to hold their balance.

"Kengo! Moritaka! You are ok!" You shout running towards them

"You idiot! What are you doing here? It's dangerous!"

"Indeed my friend, you should not be exposing yourself to any dangers like that. Earthquakes are not something we can control with sacred artefacts."

"Oh? And I thought you just bashed Kengo's head hard enough the ground started shaking." Suddenly you hear Shiro, he was walking slowly toward you. "You shouldn't be looking for trouble in a situation like this!" He adds angrily.

"Same goes to you!" You respond quickly.

"It's my duty to make sure everyone is safe!" Shiro huffs unimpressed.

"I have to make sure my friends are safe. Where is Ryota? Did you see Hanuman?" You flash a challenging grin towards Shiro. His frow disappears hearing your words replaced by embarrassment.

"Ryota stayed over at the Aoyama yesterday, he called me asking for permission. "

"Hanuman was in training with us but left earlier, he said he was starving. I'm sure he will be fine..." Moritaka responded to your questions and halfway through the shaking eased down and stopped. Everyone was waiting in silence but the quake didn't return.

"Mr Jin there they are" You recognised Toji's voice.

"My students! My beloved students are you alright?! Is everyone safe".

"I'm so glad we found you!" Hanuman jumps all over the place happy as you slowly get up, lending your hand to Kengo, who is unimaginably heavy.

"You really need to cut down on chocolate." You say after he is up.

"Oi! Cut it out. It train really hard!" He protests with a fake anger outburst.

"Hey, why is everyone here," Toji asks. "Hanuman only said about Kengo and Moritaka, not you two."

"I had to make sure my friends are alright. Shiro did the same."

"I'm so glad you all are safe!" Mr Jin laughed and suddenly stopped. "What did you say?! You were ignoring the obvious dangerous situation?! "His angry roar could be heard from everywhere and it attracted the attention of Mr Mononobe who together with the other teachers was making sure everyone is ok and there is no structural damage to the school.

"Mr Jin, what is this shouting? Are the students alright?" Mr Mononobe was walking very with a serious face. He must have been incredibly worried and stressed.

"No, no, no Mr Mononobe. All of our beloved students are fine, except these two who blatantly ignored the crisis of the situation." Mr Jin talks very fast giving both you and Shiro an unpleasant, angry look.

"How do? What have they done." Mr Mononobe forces himself to be calm narrowing his eyes at both of you. Shiro's face went pale but you decided to take the blame even if there was nothing wrong about what you have done.

"Mr Jin, Mr Mononobe. We have only left the safety of our rooms to make sure our friends and anyone who may be in trouble is safe." You straighten up without letting the teacher speak. Mr Jin huff loudly surprised.

Mr Mononobe considers his words for a few seconds, his frow eases down.

"What if you helping others would put you in direct danger? Have you thought about that?" He asks you.

"It won't matter as long as we can help them." Shiro jumps in the conversation.

"That's right." You agree.

Mr Mononobe closes his eyes and nods slowly.

"It's ok Mr Jin, those kids have their heads and hearts in the right place. Now stop standing around and go help! "

Quickly the whole gang scatters around the school to help the teachers and other students. Your whole morning passes in a new busy routine, checking the news and listening to your elders to make sure everything is going to be fine. The earthquake was classified as an isolated tremor that came from the land, with no predicted aftershocks. The city didn't experience any problems or damage except some broken furniture and unfortunate accidents that were treated in the hospital right now. It seems everything was back to normal.

Having the chance to relax you pick up the projector from the inventory and send Melusine a polite message asking her for a favour explaining you would need something transported to Ophion tower, small personal items. Only if she wouldn't mind. Shortly after Melusine answers, she would be happy to help and she will meet you shortly at the school.

Gathering your thoughts you return to your room. You look at a guitar that stands hidden in the corner. So far you managed to keep it away from your friends, especially Kengo, as you were worried he would break it by just touching it with his large, clumsy hands.

When the dreams started, the memory a few weeks back you could hear a melody. Initially, it was all scrambled up, just like everything was in reverse or through a badly adjusted radio. You couldn't make sense of anything. But then you started concentrating on one thing, the melody and each time it was clearer and clearer. Then one day, on a whim perhaps you thought, this melody shouldn't be hard to replicate, and being able to play it yourself could help with understanding the memory.

Thus you found a music shop, that stored all kinds of instruments, from drum and percussion kits to electric guitars and pianos. A very slim transient feline covered with many colourful patches of fur welcomed you very enthusiastically. She introduced herself as Saraswati and proceeded to praise all of the instruments and types of music.

Her welcome filled you with warmth and confidence, so you proceeded to explain, however badly, you wanted to learn how to play a melody from your memory. Saraswati was perplexed by your explanation but it made her curious so she kept asking questions, what instrument.

"AHH... I'm sorry... It was ancient-looking. I know how it looks but I don't know the name."

"How did you learn that melody in the first place?" Saraswati asks curiously.

"Most kids come in here wanting to become the next great idol, play the cool thing. Very few come because they love music, even fewer want to learn to play the piano or a violin. Sad times are upon us. I know all instruments, maybe if you draw it for me I'll be able to guess." She gives you something to draw on.

You agree and take a pencil from her. The lines you draw are a bit shaky and in the end, you present an image of u shaped instrument that reminds you of a horseshoe with strings in the centre of it going to the crossbar connecting both arms.

Saraswati studies it for a few seconds and then presents you with a smile. "That's a lyre. It's an instrument used in ancient times. You can say it's similar to a harpe but the rules of its music are more like a modern guitar."

"A lyre? Oh, that would make sense." You think about your dreams.

"Would it? Why so?"

"I saw this instrument in a dream that I think maybe a memory. But it's only a guess."

"Well, the only problem is I don't have a Lyra in stock. So sorry. On fact, it would be hard to get one anyway. These types of instruments are done per request and are quite pricey. Then you would need to attend a special lesson... Oh, trust me you don't want that!" She chuckled softly. "But... I have an idea".

Saraswati adds seeing your disappointment and pushes you into the depts of the shop.

"As I said the modern guitar operates on a very similar principle as the lyre. If you look and listen carefully you may even find one that sounds almost identical." She winks at you mysteriously.

"None of them is secretly sacred artefacts are they?" You joke nervously.

"Ahahaha oh no! Can you imagine what problems that would cause? Oh no, I can't have that in my shop! I put too much heart into it!"

Following Saraswati advice, you slowly look through all of the guitar instruments. There are electric ones in futuristic shapes or ones that resemble those you saw musicians holding on posters, then there are large guitars called acoustic but their sound just doesn't sit ok with your ear. Lastly, you glance on smaller, simpler guitars called classical one, their soft strings produce a warm melody very similar to that from your dreams.

And then you see the prices of these and your heart sinks while the jaw levitates very close to the floor. You have some money you managed to save up recently but not nearly enough to afford even the cheapest of those instruments.

Well, this plan will have to be put on hold for now you think and then unexpectedly something draws your eyes. You just noticed a boxed display with a Sale label on it. Within it you see all sorts of instruments, some are ex-display models, some seemed slightly damaged. In this box you find a single classical guitar, there was absolutely nothing wrong with it except one string being broken. You have just enough money to buy it.

"What's wrong with this guitar?" You ask Saraswati, the feline takes the instrument from your hands to inspect it.

It's a beautiful light guitar, painted in a very dark blue colour that reminds you of the night sky with silver nylon strings.

"There is nothing wrong with it deary, except the broken string. I can thread one for you for free, it will take me just a minute."

"Why was it in the sales box?" You ask curiously.

"It's the colour you see. Very few people would buy a guitar that's not in a light colour like brown or cream. If they are lacquered then maybe but this beautiful thing is in matt."

You admit you are completely lost and ask if you could buy it.

"Of course you can. Let me put on a new string, you know what because you are my first customer today why don't I present you with a guitar case and a book how to play it, yes?"

Saraswati is so kind and nice there is no way you can refuse her. And from that day each free moment, you found you spent on learning how to play the instrument, learning how to replay the sounds from the dreams. Initially, it was hard, your fingers hurt but each time seemed a bit easier. Then the dreams slowly became clearer, and the melody guided you. With the melody came words and suddenly you saw a familiar face with burning dark amber red eyes. Then you realized it wasn't any memory or dream, it was something from Ophion's past.

"Now I know what you were doing all this time when you weren't with us! Are you planning to become a musician, Guild Master?" Shiro's voice interrupted your chain of thoughts as you were sitting on your bed plucking the strings lovingly. Your heart sank and you face immediately felt flushed. Shiro laughed hard seeing your expression. "Don't be concerned, I'm not going to tell the others unless you want me to!"

"Don't you know how to knock?!" You cry out embarrassed.

"You left the door crack open."

"Ah-! I'm... I'm sorry I have been distracted recently." You reply slowly feeling guilty.

"I have noticed that's why I came to talk to you. Your head seems in the clouds, you drift away more often than usual. Is everything alright?"

You scan Shiro's face and measure your words not to say too much and you tell him about the memory and then your last dream with the earthquake.

Shiro almost jumps excited but there is some concern I'm his voice too. "Having a memory recall like that is fantastic! It means something in you is unlocking its secrets even if just a small bit. Do you know who’s memory it is?"

"Y-yes..." You stutter.

"I'm guessing you don't want to share it ?"

You silently turn your head.

"No... Not yet at least. And then there is a matter of the last dream."

"Hmpf... I wouldn't worry too much now. I would think your dreams were merely the effect of the earthquake. Like when you hear a sound while you dream and your brain incorporates it into the dream itself. "

"How do you know things like that?"

"I pay attention in class compared to you and Kengo! That reminds me. Melusine is looking for you." Shiro replies and readies to leave only to turn around. "Remember if there is anything, you can tell us right?"

You nod with a smile.

"Thanks" and Shiro disappears behind the door. Taking a deep breath you put the guitar into a case and pack the projector into a separate box. With both of them, you direct yourself to the school entrance where Melusine is waiting patiently.

"Hi, Melusine!" You greet her from afar, as you get closer you notice her usual outfit has been decorated in many places with garlands of familiar flowers.

"Hello young Milord, I hope you are well? I must take this chance and ask for forgiveness after yesterday. I was only following Monsieur Licht's request who specifically requested not to mention at any point Sir Ophion will be joining you."

"It's ok Melusine." You interrupt her. "It turned out better than I hoped. I... I thought it was Licht's gift to you. "

"Ah-!" Melusine blushes "That would be impossible. But Sir Ophion made a great deal of effort to get everything prepared. Nobody except humble myself and Monsieur Licht knew about his plan. He must care about you very much young Milord. In fact... I don't ever remember him carrying about anything and anyone in the past as his older self. You seem to cause impossible change whenever you go." She added with a hint of a smile.

"What's with these?" You ask about the flowers.

"Oh, forgive me, Milord. Monsieur Licht said I can keep any flowers I want before they get removed so I kept a few of them."

" And you keep saying some things are impossible. They look beautiful on you. Send my kindest regards to Licht when you see him, and thank you so much for your help. Hopefully, I can repay it somehow one day. Oh, by the way, one more thing. Is there any way through the building I can take to avoid meeting literary everyone?"

Melusine takes the boxes from you and slowly explains a route that should help you pass unnoticed, then leaves with a mysterious half-smile as she was deep in thought about what you said earlier.

The weather outdoors is still sunny and pleasant giving you some hope you won’t need the projector and nature will provide the best possible scenery. Does Ophion have a balcony you think only to chase those weird questions away and return to your room to get dressed and leave.

As you leave the dormitory and leave the school building a heavy hand lands on your shoulder unexpectedly.

“Hey-ho partner! Where are you going? Don’t you want to join us for some combat training?” Kengo stops you mid-track, his hand is firmly stuck on your shoulder and you can’t wriggle out from under his tight grip. The grin you see means he is up to no good again.

“Heyy! Actually, let’s get some snacks. We feel like we didn’t have the time to talk recently and I’m curious how the concerto was. Kengo said you got back really late yesterday?” Ryota is just next to him smiling innocently holding a bag of what looks like different colourful candies and crisps.

“Did he now?! And why are you here not at your room doing your penalty studies?!” Suddenly Shiro’s voice pierces the air loudly.

Kengo’s face goes pale.

“Oh crap! Sorry partner gotta run! Catch you later yes? I want the juicy details!”

“Me too!” Ryota tries to catch up with Kengo who left a trail of dust behind him.

You raise your thumb up to Shiro and wave. You can see him smile at you and then you get a message on the App.

“Stay out of trouble, OK?”

“I will.” You reply and press send. As you arrive at the Ophion tower with plenty of time to spare and make your way to the security reception.

“Hi, I’m here to see Ophion. He… is expecting me.” You say nervously.

A completely uninterested transient measures you for a second and then lets you in. “Yes, we have been told.” With relief, you direct your steps following the route Melusine told you which is the executive walkway that is almost always empty and takes an elevator. In your mind surprise visit would be out of place, especially since Ophion is not any man and may be occupied. The corridors around are lavishly decorated and you feel slightly out of place. But finally, the elevator arrives and you step into it.

Pondering why there is always a piece of weird music whenever you go to the office buildings a slight shake resonates around you. Unsure if it was just your imagination or something else you squeeze yourself into the corner. Another floor beeped before your eyes, and as you were counting down, only three more to go, everything starts shaking around you. Whatever is happening knocks you off your feet and you land painfully on the floor. At the same time, the elevator slows down and stops. The lights around you suddenly go out and you hear and electricity creek followed by a metal one. Suddenly there is an empty feeling in your stomach and you painfully drop on the floor again. Panicking you somehow roll to the corner. The elevator must have dropped down but the safety break kicked in just in time. For what feels like an eternity you are in total darkness, unable to understand what’s going on, absolutely scared. And then blue safety lights turn on. Still scared you slowly climb up and try to use the help alarm button on the console and call for help. But there is no reply from anyone. So you try and press every floor button hoping you will be able to get out this way. And then the shaking starts again and instantly you cover in the corner hearing the elevator creek dangerously. It’s a situation your powers won’t do you any good and it feels like you stopped between floors too. You try the help button again. Nothing. You try again. The elevator creeks dangerously again and you start praying to anyone and anything for it to hold and the shaking to stop. Not sure but you think you hear an alarm and screams in the background. With what feels like the worst shake so far everything feels like liquid around you. Suddenly you hear a metal creek just a meter above you and the light blind you. For a moment you flicker your eyes looking at a huge silhouette before you. In the elevator door using all of his might is no other than Ophion covered in dust and grime.

“My beloved give me your hand!” He extends it to you and you gladly take it. Ophion who is extremely strong being an eternal dragon god lifts you out the elevator without any problem. Once you are out and on your own legs you embrace him as hard as you can. That was a horrible and scary experience. “I’m here, I’m here my beloved flower, and nothing is going to hurt you anymore.” He is completely surprised by your reaction and accepts the embrace without hesitation.

“I’m… I’m ok, thanks to you. What happened?” You ask.

“My beloved, we experienced consecutive shock waves. Much, much stronger than these before. Alarms are going through the whole city of Tokyo as we speak. You should thank Aizen here as he was the one who heard plead for help through the elevator device.”

Surprised you thank Aizen, who for once doesn’t look angry. He remains quiet and nods in response. Then you look back at Ophion.

“Are you ok?” You suddenly notice a scrape on his arm. There is no blood but still.

“Oh, my beloved you worry about me? My heart is touched beyond imagination.” He says still embracing you. “I am fine, it was just a few ceiling panels that fell on me. Nothing that can hurt this godly dragon. “

“Ophion, sir! Are you sure you are unhurt? Maybe we should finish this little scene and get into safety!” And the old Aizen is back, however his expression remained unchanged. Once he said that a group of security mobs appeared running toward them.

“Sir! We found you! It’s good you are unharmed sir! We have news!”

Ophion reluctantly lets you go, but won’t let you move away from the reach of his hands or wings.

“Report! What’s the situation? Are you evacuating the civilians? Are there any injuries? Where are the other tycoons?”

“Sir we have been informed by the security forces this was no ordinary shock, but it was caused by the world collision.” One of the mobsters has pointed at the windows. To your surprise, the Tokyo border wall from the harbour was gone stretching to an open sea covered with angry clouds. It wasn’t destroyed in the quake no, it just vanished due to the collision event.

“Where was the source of the earthquake located?” You open your mouth asking loudly. Your mind went straight into the geography lessons and then something else entirely.

“What?” The mobster asked stupidly.

“What the earthquake on land or at sea?” You repeat.

“My beloved, what are you thinking?” Ophion asked.

“If this world collision has temporarily exposed us to an open sea and there was an earthquake which happened at sea everyone in Tokyo is in grave danger. “

Aizen was the first one to get what you were saying.

“Tsunami! The god wave! If the harbour wall is gone the wave will flood the whole city, bottling up because of the border wall!” He turned pale as paper.

“We need to send a message to everyone who has the app! Tell them to go to higher ground!”

Suddenly Tsathoggua appeared from nowhere holding Melusine, breathing heavily.

“Oh, you are ok! Melusine said you were in the building. I was right to think…” He had to stop to breathe. ”I’m not getting any better at this.. huff.. huff.. I was right to think you will be where Ophion is.”

“I'm extremely sorry if my guidance has caused you any trouble young milord.”

“It’s Ok Melusine, you couldn’t have known something like this would happen.”

“Shut up everyone!” Aizen roared. “We need to warn everyone”

“What about the non-app users?” You ask immediately. “We can’t just hope they will be alright. We need to do something.”

“How much time do we have?” Tsathoggua asks still breathing heavily. You look at the long line of windows and with a shiver see a dark shadow on the horizon.

“We don’t have much. Look.” You say pointing at what you saw unconsciously squeezing your sword. Your sword. Then something hits you. A shiver travelled from the top of your head down to your toes. Something you saw earlier, something somebody told you earlier, something you have heard before. The music you have been hearing, It had words and until now you couldn’t understand them. These words were “In the day’s to come my darling, I shall love you, my child, I shall protect you with the power of my ethereal shield of light.” Feeling a warmth come from your sword you now understand those weren’t just idle lyrics. It was the words of a rule of a secret artefact. One of the 24 pieces of what was embedded in your sword. And the scene from your dreams was almost identical, but there is no falling star and an exploding mountain. But the wave remains. And it’s coming fast.

“Are you ok young friend?” Tsotsung pulls your sleeve, it seems everyone is looking at you. “You switched off suddenly.”

“My beloved, we need to get into the shelter.” Ophion insists.

“No.”

“No?” He is troubled and confused. “But my jewel-“ You interrupt him.

“I need to get to the harbour. I think I can stop the wave... I’m not sure how yet but if this is a collision event and it’s somehow connected with an error within the app once this is over everything should go back to normal, yes? I had dreams and in one for them, this was exactly what I saw.”

“Those are just wild speculations! Where are those idiotic ideas coming from?! There are innocent lives at stake and you are trying to play a stupid hero! How incredibly childish of you, I couldn’t expect anything else.” Aizen snarled at your words.

“Aizen leave now!” Ophion almost hit the man in anger.

“Tell us what do you want to do.” Melusine insisted, together her and Tsathoggua expressed will to help.

“Since I know you, your plans and crazy ideas never failed. I trust you friend. I will take you to the harbour.” Tsotsunga said putting on a brave face.

“No! My beloved, my jewel, my darling spouse. I want to help you. I will take you to the harbour, but you must tell me about your plan. We don’t have much time. The wave is almost upon the city!” Ophion stepped in front of you showing all of his protective nature, almost as if hearing others offer help before he instigated a change of mind. Maybe he felt less worthy.

“My sword contains the shard of another sacred relic which was the Etheral Shield of Light its rule was Protection against all. Or so I think… ” Ophion’s eyes grew wider as he listened to your words astounded. “I have a memory that’s been following me for weeks now. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. It’s like something within me knew such an event may happen!”

“My flower! My love!” Ophion was trembling. “You must tell me everything once this is over. Let us haste to the harbour. I will be with you and be behind you at every step.”

You nod silently.

“Let everyone know to find shelter above ground. Tsathoggua please try and reach Mr Triton and others who have any degree of command over water if they can help.”

“On it” Tsathoggua vanished within a split second. At the same moment, you felt a strong arm wrap around you tightly and suddenly you were in the air. Ophion flew out of the terrace next to where you were, taking you with him.

“My beloved, why have you not told me sooner? Why keep this as a secret! My heart is trembling knowing there is even a minute piece of you that feels what I feel toward you!”

“Ophion, We are flying-!” you gasp shocked by the sensation.

“Don’t you like it, my love? There was no other way to get us to the harbour fast enough.”

“If it wasn’t for the circumstances I probably would enjoy it, but I wasn’t ready! Next time ask!”

“I'm sorry my darling, my fiery flower, my spouse. But you haven’t answered my question. Whatever happens, I want to know.”

You fall silent for a moment trying to gather words for an answer.

“I... I wanted to know if it was really me or just the memory. And then when the accident in the TSA happened and Seth’s shadow transported us to a real desert where we spent days wandering, each night I would look at the sky looking for the Dragon constellation… and think about the melody. And each night I would think that although I barely know you, I would miss you even if I never met you.”

“Ooh... Ooh...!” Ophion the Golden Dragon was trembling so much you could feel the hands holding you shaking. “This trembling feeling within my soul is equal to Heaven and Earth's creation itself. Those words! It filled the loneliness in this weary heart that has grown for millennia within seconds! My beloved! You cannot imagine how happy I am right now. But first, let’s save this diamond of a city from disaster. “ Your journey through the skies didn’t last long and you set foot in the harbour, that was already full of people and transients. Each one of them in a line trying to control the incoming wall of water.

“Thank gods you are safe!” You hear Shiro’s voice, behind him is Kengo and Ryota. All running towards you.

“What are you all doing here?! It's dangerous!” You shout at them as you set your feet at the ground.

“Well partner that’s not how you should be welcoming your friends!” Kengo measures Ophion with a cold look. “Looks like you had an interesting way of getting here!”

“Ophion sir! Thank you for helping our friend and bringing him here!” Shiro slurs out to Ophion.

“How did you get here? Where is Tsatsunga? Is he OK?”

Ryota gesticulates at a tall building nearby. “He collapsed exhausted after transporting dozens here. Moritaka is with him right now. Shiro used his powers to get us and Mr. Triton here the minute we got the message.”

“Shiro! Are you ok after that?” You ask your friend who seems paler than usual.

“Yes, yes I am fine. I had a minor nose bleed but it stopped now.” He answers avoiding your stare. “I’m not sure what can we accomplish. A Tsunami is a force of nature, us app users and other Transient don’t seem to have any chance to stop it. This is going to be a massacre!” He keeps trying to rationalize.

“My sword contains a shard of another sacred relic, the Etheral Shield of Light its rule was Protection against all. I know it is going to work.”

“How do you know what? Is it something to do with that memory you said you kept having?” Shiro asked looking at you and then at the approaching wall of water. It was getting nearer and nearer and it didn’t look like the united forces of water relics were doing anything beyond slowing It down.

“Come on kids! Put your back into it! We have a whole city counting on us!” Mr Triton was shouting louder and louder.

You turn around to Ophion. “Can you protect the civilians and anyone who may get into the harm's way?”

“My darling love, Of course! Whatever your plan you need to be ready. I will help as much as I can. I shall call upon my children to be ready to lift anyone into the skies to protect them from the flood wave.” And he has done as he said lifting his sacred relic into the skies, and with a blast of light, dozens of wyverns filled the skies ready.

The tsunami wave was incoming faster now, filling the whole horizon, the sky darkened angrily. This must-have happened somewhere you think, at some time in the history. You think about that picture you saw.

“Shiro, I saw a painting of a tsunami wave, and there were a man and a ghost of a woman that was trying to stop it. What is the story of that painting.” You ask bracing yourself.

Shiro is quite stunned after you tell him this.

“You are talking about The Great Wave off Kanagawa, but there is no man or woman in that painting.”

“Great, so either I’m hallucinating or something else is happening.”

“What if the collision of the worlds started happening much earlier than we thought, and what you saw had something to do with it.”

“I’m thinking my resurfacing memory has something to do with the tsunami.”

Shiro nodded eagerly.

“Don’t you remember? It happened before that you remembered a forgotten part of your powers before during different events.”

“But this is different, this started happening weeks ago.” You say to him.

“Whatever happens Partner, we are here to help you. We will always have your back.” Kengo adds. “Let’s see what my fists can do against a wall of water.”

“I will be with you my friends, even if you take me to the scariest places in all of the 23 worlds.” Ryota yelps quietly. He is scared and shaking yet still with you.

“Oh, gods it’s coming!” Somebody shouted! Screams started getting louder, some transients panicked and run and Mr Triton started having issues controlling the speed of the incoming wave. You could feel an unearthly rumble as the wall of water was before you.

You felt ready. You were ready, you had to be.

”Role of Wanderer, Rule of Rending! Engrave mine name onto thee Come out, Boundless Tail!!”

But nothing happened. Nothing at all. Your swords shone its normal light, but there was nothing your power could affect.

“No, no! This is not right! I know I can do something!”

Ophion lay his hand on your shoulder. “We must go now, my love!”

“No! I know I can help! I just… The song! The words were: In the day’s to come my darling, I shall love you, my child, I shall protect you with the power of my ethereal shield of light.” You panic seeing the wave almost upon on you, glancing over everyone.

Ophion gives away an odd laugh that seems so out of place right now.

“My dearest, you are calling upon the wrong artefact! You must call upon the rule of protection! With the memory this strong it means it has a power of its own over your sacred artefact.”

You turn back to the wave in fear.

“Role of the guardian, Rule of protection! Engrave my name unto thee! Come forth Ethereal shield of light!” But still, nothing happens.

But you don’t give up concentrating even more with your eyes closed. “ Rule of protection! Engrave my name unto thee! Come forth Ethereal shield of light!” There is still nothing.

Feeling the water droplets on your hair and screams around you shout again one last time. “ Role of the guardian, Rule of protection! Engrave my name unto thee! Come forth Ethereal shield of light!” Suddenly a force so powerful hits your body as something has torn the flesh out of your bones. The wall of light emanating out of your swords is so bright you can’t even physically keep your eyes open as and the vibration of the blade is almost breaking the bones in your hand. But you hold it tight as a wall extends in every direction. You know it’s the shield of light, the same one the goddess Euronome used to protect her children during the war of gods, the same she used on Olympos to protect those innocent around her dragged into the war of Titans. You feel your body strength failing and drop on one knee feeling tremendous pain. But there is a dozen of hands suddenly holding your back keeping you from falling. You hear so many voices, calling upon so many rules. You hear Mr Triton calling his rule, you hear Ophion shouting out commands to the Wyverns at the ready to help in an evacuation, You hear Ryota providing healing to others and yourself.

“You can do it, my child. Hold on just a little longer!” Somebody, a woman whispers to your ear. You will try as much as you can, but there is blood going down your nose. The force you are against may just kill you. But you don’t care hearing the words of Mr Mononobe in your head over and over intertwined with the song. “Prove yourself that you are not just a hero in the App. Prove you can defend those innocent from forces far greater than any battle.” With your hands in so much pain, you don’t know if you will be ever able to move your fingers again, with no sounds coming to you because you think your eardrums exploded and the blood is dripping down your neck the strength of your body finally fails you and collapse into darkness.

In your dreams, you hear and see many things, and the beautiful watercolour world around you dances gently and suddenly a slender figure emerges from the kaleidoscope of colours.

“Well done my child, you have done it. I’m so proud of you.” The woman speaks to you, her voice feels like it is coming from far away.

“Are you-?” You ask without words spoken.

“I am. Or I may be, or I may be just the figment of your imagination. After all, you exhausted your frail body greatly.” She responds with a crystal laugh.

“I thought you would be…” You start but she stops you.

“A dragon? Like my husband? Ahahaha… We were born beyond such boundaries, unconcerned by shape.”

“You are strong for one who has such a great burden on them. I only hope you are strong enough for all the challenges awaiting you. “ She continues. “ As for what is perplexing you, it’s not the memory of me that’s keeping your mind confused, it never was.”

“Am I falling for a god then?” You ask, although unsure if you did but the words resonate anyway. Realizing you won’t have any secrets here.

“Haha-!” The woman laughs warm. “And what if yes? What burdens does it bring to you?”

“Ophion is a bit much. He is a god, a godly dragon… and…”

“And what of it my child? Give yourself and him a chance. Remember he is the father of all in our world, and his golden heart is pure, and his love eternal. Yes, he has spent millennia without a force to restrain his fatherly ego, and in loneliness. Such things would poison any mind. What you witnessed, in your last dream was the moment of my fall… and the moment his heart broke… “ She added sadly. “I am sorry this somehow has influenced your world.”

“It’s time for you to wake up my child. Beware thou, the Rule of the Guardian is not one to be taken lightly as it is a burden that will exhaust your body beyond the boundaries of this peculiar prison everyone is tied to.”

“Can I ask you-!” You suddenly try to find where the voice is coming as the woman seems to have disappeared. Only to approach you from behind and whisper to your ear “Wake up”.

You were in a hospital room, your head still dizzy and the sounds coming to you weren’t completely normal. “So everything truly happened.” You lift a hurting hand trying to reach to your ear but it is still painful. So that’s how physical pain feels like compared to a memory of it from the app. Then you notice Ophion on a large chair next to you. How odd it looks having him here, his large frame bigger than any human, sleeping so peacefully. He must have taken a nap while being here. And then he gave out a gentle snore making you laugh quietly to yourself. It didn’t take him long to wake up and yawn revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” You greet him with a smile.

“My beloved! Forgive me, with so much going on I didn’t have the time to sleep at all.” He looked at you with his dark ember red eyes.

“How long has it been?”

“You slept for almost three days my jewel. How are you feeling? The healers here said your body needs rest. It was hard to explain to them what exactly ailed you since the App injuries seem to be beyond the comprehension of your medicine.”

“My head is still tired, and my body aches but I’m better. So… we have done it. The city is safe?” You ask with a weary voice.

Ophion shifts on his chair leaning towards you.

“Yes my darling spouse, everything is back to normal. It seems your conclusion was correct, my beloved, and after the wave of water was stopped the glitch in the app caused by the world collision cleared itself out. With one exception. World collisions don’t function as app battles, and some physical damage caused by the quake remained, but nobody was hurt.”

“I'm so happy everyone is ok.” You let out the words with relief.

“Yes, yes, my wonderful flower. My children scouted the city to help while you were resting. Your friends will be here shortly I assume. But before that, I need to tell you, my love, no, I need to ask you to promise me not to do anything like that ever again! It was brave but foolish! I, your husband will sacrifice my body for you If I have to! You should never endanger yourself! Not in this frail form! I could not bear losing you again! My beloved, you must promise me! If you won’t I will have to come up with a plan to perhaps enslave you temporarily whenever danger is near to stop you from running toward it.” Ophion is back being himself, with his voice booming across the room.

“You want to enslave me to stop me from getting hurt?”

“In the most comfortable of ways my love!” He adds quickly.

“You know you snore? I’m going to tell everyone if you even think about locking me up somewhere!” You tease him.

“My darling spouse you wouldn’t-!”

And you just thought you have a secret weapon flashing a cheeky smile at him.

You found yourself staring at the elevator door at the Ophion Tower waiting for it to arrive. It’s been a few days now since the event and you are back on your feet. Of course, this goes without saying you got into trouble at school which Mr Mononobe was willing to turn a blind eye as long as you attend a few extracurricular lessons with him to make sure you caught up with all of the lessons you missed. But this Friday evening you were only thinking to yourself “I just hope I'm not going to embarrass myself”. The weather outside has taken a dramatic turn with a heavy downpour forcing you to rethink your plans. The elevator doors finally open, still with a bit of a fright after the last time you enter and purposely press the floor just below your destination. Closing your eyes for a few seconds you await the familiar sound and yes, you are here. As the door opens you exit with relief with. It was Melusine who told you to skip a floor, claiming you may walk into Aizen. She was right, as you approached the staircase you hear a loud marching noise and a very annoyed monologue.

“I can’t believe my beloved sir Ophion send me away! Me! His loyal servant! To meet this stupid brat! I will find a way! I will! The embarrassment! How dare he!”

“Oh dear,” You think to yourself waiting for the man to disappear and then you walk up the staircase. With each step, it feels harder to walk as if somebody would be adding sand to your burden. But you made a promise, and as nerve-wracking this is you knocked on the door. And there he was. Ophion opened, with his huge silhouette filling the door frame. You just realized they probably had to enlarge all entryways just for him. Unlike his usual clothes, he was wearing a black shirt that was fully pinned up which somehow felt odd.

“My beloved! Please enter. Welcome to my private chambers, that not many have the right to enter! You look unearthly today.” He says trying to sway you as always.

“Hi… You… look different?” You hesitate. “It’s a good different, but I never saw you buttoned up.”

Ophion laughs loudly.

“My darling, I, your husband still need to run a business. But if it pleases you I can change in something more attractive to your eyes? Yes, my love?” You can feel your ears burning.

“You are impossible.” You reply.

“Ah my beloved, of course, I am impossible, I am the godly dragon beloved by all,” Ophion responds with his typical smile and a wink. You are sure he didn’t understand what you meant.

“My flower, my love, I wasn’t sure if you were hungry or thirsty so I asked some refreshments to be brought up. And yes, my spouse, the items you asked to be delivered here were left untouched. You think I wouldn’t notice?” He teases you.

With a pounding heart you think to yourself “Well, this is a moment of truth”. And you approach the boxes that have the projector and your guitar case.

“I’m not hungry right now. And…” Ophion stares at you intensively. “Can we spread some pillows on the floor to sit down?” You ask hesitating.

“Anything you want my love.” As odd it feels you and him take some pillows of the elegant sofas that are within the living area of the apartment and move the furniture away to make more sitting space. You ask Ophion to sit and make himself comfortable, and with amusement you watch the dragon take his time to awkwardly sit on the floor, he smiles like a giddy child to you all the time. You take out the projector and place it on the floor and then uncase your guitar. Finally, you kneel in front of Ophion who is with great anticipation is observing your every move. There is something in his dark amber eyes you can’t quite place or name.

“Right… I feel nervous and embarrassed.” You say out loud.

“My beloved, why would you be? There is nobody here beyond us.”

“I’m nervous because you are here.” You repeat.

“My darling spouse, I’m confused.” He reaches out and grabs your hand with his. It’s very warm on your skin.

“So… I wanted to see you because I have something for you. A gift let’s call it. It’s the memory I’ve been having, and I wanted to reconstruct it for you somehow.”

“Oh, oh-! My beloved, my heart is shaking. Did you go to so much trouble… for me? Your Ophion?” He smiles openly.

“Can we dim down the lights?” You ask.

“But my dearest jewel, are you sure the floor will be comfortable enough, what about the bedroom-!”

“Ophion!” You protest loudly before he can finish.

“I apologize, my beloved! But you made it so easy…” He sticks out his tongue and does as you request diming down the lights in the living area, not completely dark but enough to what you wanted to do.

“Because mother-nature has been fickle today and I can’t do what I wanted I thought I will present you with something.” You say like a magician preparing the audience for a magic trick.

“Oh my starling jewel, I cannot contain my excitement, I-!” He starts but you interrupt him.

“I give you the stars on a night’s sky.” You say and turn on the start projector. The device lights up the entire room with hundreds of constellations, and stars from all over our galaxy, gently moving to simulate the motion of a night sky above us. With that you pick up your guitar, and gently settle yourself in front of Ophion, with your back towards him, almost touching his chest feeling the heat of his body, but far enough not to touch him while playing.

“In this memory, I would sit like this and play an instrument very much like this and you were listening.” You say lowering your voice as you start gently pulling the nylon strings. Although in his memory the melody was played on an ancient lyre, you were able to easily reproduce it on a classical guitar with almost identical quality. The first few notes came out a bit harsh but once the nerves went away the melody flew gently and pleasantly in the night air with the stars above you. It felt magical and you didn’t want it to stop. Surprisingly you felt Ophion reach-out to you and slowly wrap his large, solid arms around you and place his head on your shoulder. It didn’t stop you from playing at all, it just made your heart beat faster and harder. The melody wasn’t long at all and it was easy to repeat in an infinite loop, perhaps even it was created that way.

“I know it’s not much but I wanted this to be a gift to you.” You say softly still playing.

“Oh my world, you need not say anything, this is the mo1st beautiful of gifts you have ever given me and I wish it wouldn’t stop. Among these riches that surround us, this is the only thing worth cherishing” Ophion says smiling with his head still on your shoulder.

“I’m happy you think so.” You add and after a moment of thinking you turn your head and kiss his cheek, feeling the gentle giant tremble as you do it.

END

#ophion #housamo #TAS #toko afterschool summoners #tokyoafterschoolsummoners #fanfiction

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