#more bear images on my desk STAT

[finchbaggins]

Carrot Cake

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston AU / OFC

Authors note: For @redfoxwritesstuff 500 followers writing prompt challenge #Kitkats500 

Prompt: “Did you do something different with you hair?”

“Fuck.”

The curse left my lips in a frustrated hiss, and I threw the poppy red beret I’d been trying to style my hair under for the best part of half an hour to the floor. I stared at my reflection in the mirror above the dressing table.

My stupid reflection.

My hideous, god awful, embarrassing, reflection.

You’d think, when you were paying someone a decent amount of money, a professional no less, at a top salon, to restyle your hair, that they might have some idea what they were doing. I’d expected to come out of that salon feeling like a new woman, heaven knows I needed it after the month I’d had.

Work had been hell, what with two people handing in their notice and one of the team had just gone on maternity leave, which meant the number of FTE’s (Full time employees – junior management jargon) was down to just four on my team, and reallocating everyone’s workload’s had kept me tied to the office, sometimes late into the night.

This unusually busy period, and my unforeseen extended hours, had been seemingly the only excuse that Dan – the guy I’d been sort of seeing for almost a year to get bored and find someone else to do his laundry, cook his dinners, and suck his cock.

I wasn’t as upset as I ought to have been, if anything I was relieved. I’d known the guy was a leach and I was better off without him. But somehow being thirty-two and dating him seemed more appealing than being thirty-two and single, going home to an empty flat and microwave meals for one every night.

It had however, been the kick up the backside I needed to get my shit together. Work had finally sorted its self out. I booked a Friday off so I could enjoy a nice long weekend. I enjoyed finding any tiny possession that Dan had left in my little one bed flat, and putting it in a black sack, before hauling it all down to the communal dumpster. Then I’d cashed in on a voucher I’d found on Groupon – Colour and Restyle at Top London Salon – fifty pounds.

That probably should have been my red flag.

But money was tight, and I was determined to push forward with the whole, out with the old and in with the new.

I’d attended the appointment with several images saved on my phone with what I wanted. I wanted my dull light brown hair transformed to a vibrant copper, with choppy layers and a heavy fringe. What the stylist – or apparently blind, trainee stylist – managed to achieve was shade of orange which could be described as radioactive, and an uneven, long bob which made me look like I wanted to ‘talk to the manager’.

The worst part was, because I’d already had a voucher which meant the treatment had been greatly reduced, the salon could not issue me a refund. Although they did invite me back to try and ‘correct’ the colour. But I’d have to wait at least a fortnight, as putting more colour on it straight away could cause serious damage to my hair. Apparently.

So I was stuck with this horrific orange blob on my head for at least a fortnight. Probably longer, as there was no way I was setting foot back in that salon and letting any of their stylists lay a single finger on my hair again. So that meant waiting until my next pay day so I could go to a better salon. But pay day was three weeks away.

In the meantime I had to go to work, in an office full of people. Looking like Chucky.

Worse still. I had to face Tom. Tom, my annoying, shithead of a colleague. Tom who was in equal measure the bane of my existence and the closest thing to a real friend I actually had. Tom who was also devastatingly gorgeous and he knew it too.

I’d just about managed to twist and clip the fringe out of my face, and I’d attempted to do some type of vintage up-do that I could tuck under my beret and hope it just looked like a new style I was trying out. My fashion sense was normally a little off beat and loud so it was unlikely anyone would comment.

But no matter what I tried, I just couldn’t pull off the beret.

Eventually, another brainwave, I pulled out a pretty silk scarf. It would at least offer some cover from the embarrassment of my morning commute on the tube. I couldn’t see my boss standing for it though.

∞

“Kara,” my eyes shot to my boss, who tapped his wrist and frowned at me from the doorway to his office, “Was there something more pressing for you to do this morning, than show up to work on time?”

“No, Nick, sorry, I missed my alarm,” I apologised hastily, as I passed, “I’ll take ten minutes off my lunch.”

“Whatever, Kara,” he chuckled, and shook his head. He wasn’t really mad, I’d worked for him for too many years for him to really care about the odd ten minutes here or there, “Get that stupid thing off your head, we’ve got clients in today.”

When I finally made it into my own office everyone was already there. The small team were quiet and hard at work, Tom was leaned up against the end of one of the newer team members desk, chatting away quietly, but didn’t miss the opportunity to roll his eyes at me as I hung my coat on the back of the door, and hurried over to my desk.

The next fifteen or so minutes were spent logging into my computer and putting an eye over my emails. Long enough for Tom to fetch our morning coffees and put one on the end of my desk and take his seat across from me.

Everyone worked in comfortable silence and I waited for Tom to settle into his work before I shifted and started removing the pins I’d used to hold my scarf in place, hoping to just slip it off and carry on and maybe no one would say anything. But the second I pulled it off my head I could feel the burning of Tom’s gaze on me.

I tried not to look at him, and fixed my stare on the screen in front of me, trying to focus on the monthly audit spreadsheet. But of course my eyes darted to the side and I caught him, sitting across from me, his eyes sparkling with delighted amusement. I looked away and tried hard to ignore him.

“Good weekend?” his voice drifted over the space between us, and I couldn’t bear to look at him.

“It was fine,” I muttered, “Yours.”

“It was good, got drunk with Pete on Saturday. That new bar on Green Street, with the cocktails that turn your tongue black.”

“Nice.”

“So…” he trailed off, and I could hear in his voice that he was holding back laughter now.

“So?” I shot back abruptly.

“Did you do something different with your hair?”

I looked him dead on now. He was lounged back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. God, I wanted to smack the stupid fucking grin off his beautiful face.

“Obviously,” I hissed, looking away quickly, not wanting him to have the satisfaction of seeing how distressed I was. Made worse by how amused my misfortune was making him.

I tried to press on with my work.

“It’s very –”

“Don’t,” I snapped, quickly, cutting him off before he had a chance to finish.

He finished anyway.

“Orange.”

I said nothing, and kept my eyes firmly fixed on my screen. Tom obviously realised he wasn’t going to get a rise out of me now, because it seemed his attention was also back on the job. So, when it seemed like I could finally settle into my working day and hope that was the last comment I’d get regarding the disaster on my head, I shot off a few emails and then looked at the internal audit from my superior.

Everyone worked in silence, which wasn’t always the case. Generally we were a lively office, but the mood was dampened by the clients due in. The office manager was strict on professionalism, and whenever we had visitors he insisted chitchat was kept to a minimum.

“Christ, Kara. What happened to you? I think you were better off with the head scarf on!”

I’d not heard my boss enter our office, and my eyes shot up in time to see Tom bark with laughter, and a collection of snickers rose from around the office.

“Sorry, Nick,” I mumbled.

“Not me you want to be apologising to. Poor Tom here needs sunglasses sitting opposite you,” Tom chuckled and greeted his bosses high five.

I huffed loudly, “Hilarious. Glad you’re all getting a good laugh at my expense.”

“Talking of expense,” Tom started, his eyes were bright and twinkled with humour, “How much did you sell your soul for, for that haircut?”

“Ha, fucking, ha, Tom, gingers don’t have souls, I get it. You’re a fine one to talk with the ginger Jokes, at least mine will grow out,” I groused, annoyed that now Nick had basically given permission for open season on the hair jokes, Tom was going all in.

“Mines auburn, the ladies love it.”

“Sure.”

“Besides there’s ginger, and then there is that,” he waved a pointed finger in my direction, “It looks like you’ve fallen in a vat of chemicals.”

“Fuck off.”

“Language, Kara,” Nick said, suddenly more serious, “That’s quite enough. You can’t expect to turn up looking like that and not get a few jokes made at your expense.”

“Obviously it’s not meant to look like –”

I tried to argue, but my boss held up a hand to stop me.

“I just came in to let you know I’ll be showing our visitors around within the hour. If you could all just be on your best behavior. Tom, perhaps you can bring up some of the recent stats for them to have a look at, I’d like you to talk them through.”

“Nick, I completed last months internal, perhaps it would be better if I did that.”

“Given your vile mood this morning, Kara, you are the last person I want left alone with one of our highest paying clients.”

My lips parted in surprise. No, shock and humiliation.

I wouldn’t even be in such a foul mood if it wasn’t for his and Tom’s jibes at me. I wanted to walk out, but if I did that I’d only make it worse for myself. So I pressed my lips together and gave a short nod.

In his favour, Tom did give me a sympathetic look, as he picked up his laptop and followed the boss out of the office.

∞

If I’d even hoped that might be the end of my ridicule, I was sorely mistaken.

When I arrived back to my desk after lunch, a bowl had appeared, full of fresh oranges, and a two litre bottle of Tango orange was there too. Tom had returned from his meeting with the visitors, and only glanced from his screen briefly, long enough for me to see the smirk on his lips, as I picked up both the bowl and the bottle and marched them to the shared staff canteen.

When I returned, he looked pretty pleased with himself.

“Chill out, Weasley.”

“Oh fuck off.”

Then not long later a tap on the office door. It was Barbara from the bakery down the street, carrying a small white box. The types they delivered their cakes in, because we always ordered from there on birthdays.

“Hi, Kara,” she chirped, placing the box on the end of my desk, “Special occasion?”

I looked at the box, with a post-it on top reading my name and office number. I frowned, then looked back at her.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Oh, well… must have an admirer. Enjoy,” with that she skipped off.

I could feel all eyes on me as I pulled the box towards me. When I glanced across my desk, Tom looked about ready to implode.

“What? What did you do?”

“Me?” he exclaimed, holding a hand to his chest, having the gall to look insulted at the accusation.

So I flipped the lid of the box open, and there, inside was a small, but perfectly delicious looking carrot cake. Complete with cream cheese frosting and little decorative iced carrots.

“I…” The tears rolled down my cheeks and splashed onto the cake before I even realised I’d started crying, “I think…I think I’m not feeling too well. I’m going to go home.”

I closed the box quickly and dropped it into the bin under my desk. Then picked up my handbag. It was only when I strode across the room, and reached for my coat that Tom spoke up.

“Oh come on, Kara. Don’t be like that.”

“Tom, I think you should leave it, mate,” I heard Paul, the usually quieter member of the team, pipe up. But his warning went ignored.

“Kara, it’s just a bloody joke.”

“Yeah, well it’s not funny, Tom!” I shouted, spinning back to face him, “Do you think I wanted my hair like this? Do you think, if I could have done something to make it look less hideous, I wouldn’t have done it before having to come in and face you.”

“It was just a laugh.”

“For you, maybe. Not for me,” I sniffed, “You’re meant to be my friend. I know we wind each other up, but I can’t believe you’d go so far out of your way to get a laugh at my expense. It’s bad enough having to leave the house looking like this.”

“Kara, I didn’t…”

“Don’t even bother, Tom. I’m going. Tell Nick I’m ill.”

With that, I turned back and hurried from the office, leaving Tom, and the rest of the team in stunned silence. Not once, in all the years I’d worked there had I walked out like that, or out rightly shouted at Tom. We bickered, sure. All the time actually. We wound each other up, but we were never cruel.

∞

I waited until I arrived home to completely lose it.

A text came through from Nick, saying Tom felt bad about how he’d behaved, and they both meant no harm, and hoped I was okay.

I cried. Tears streamed down my cheeks and my body wrecked with harsh sobs.

This was ridiculous. It was just hair, why did I care so much? Some people had it worse. My own mother had lost all hers when she’d undergone Chemotherapy, and she’d not cried about it once. Alright, she wasn’t okay with it, she hated it. But she got on with it.

So why was I so upset about my hair? It would grow out, eventually. And in a few weeks I’d be able to colour it and maybe get the cut sorted. It was fixable.

More so, why was I so bothered by what Tom said?

Oh yeah, right. Because the office banter and bickering had been my own, so far, successful way of staying in control of the stupid crush I’d been harbouring from the day we were assigned to work with one another.

It’s not like I’d ever stand a chance with him anyway, he’d never paid me the slightest bit of interest. I’d have known if he had, because Tom was a notorious ladies man and when he liked a woman he let her know very quickly. He always said it was because he had impeccable taste, so he didn’t like to hang around. If he didn’t get in there, another man would.

I called him a slut.

But only because I was jealous.

Jealous of every girl who was better than me.

And now I was heartbroken because I’d now made myself look repulsive, and stupid and I’d managed to bump myself further down Tom’s list. Not that I was even on it to start with.

The truth was, of the women Tom had dated, there had been a fair few red heads. These stunning women, with long, scarlet tresses. Usually tall, with fair skin, blue eyes, and so very striking to look at. Women who were so extra, that next to them, I looked positively dull.

I bathed, and washed my hair. The stylist said after a few washes the colour would ‘settle down’. It wasn’t working, but I tried anyway. After blow drying it, it looked brighter than ever, and I shed a few more tears in front of the mirror. I couldn’t stay away from work until it was fixed.

It had just gone seven o’clock in the evening when my door buzzer went. I wasn’t expecting visitors, and my phone had been quiet since I’d ignored my bosses text. So I was a little nervous when I picked up the entry phone and asked who was there.

“Hey, Kar…It’s Tom,” I could heard the uncertainty in his voice. I’d already given him one dressing down today, was he expecting another one? “Can I come in?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m not here to take the piss.”

“I hope not.”

“Well, can come in then?”

I glanced back into my little flat. It wasn’t too untidy. I looked down at myself. Old leggings, a band t-shirt which I’d cut the sleeves off of, and my fluffy bed socks. I suffered from cold feet. What the hell? He’d seen me in worse states.

“Sure,” I pressed the button and heard him push the door open.

Tom had only visited my flat once before, for a little gathering which I’d had for my thirtieth birthday. Whilst we were friends, it was usually reserved for work, and occasionally nights out. My place was small, and I wasn’t overly fond of having guests.

It only occurred to me when I heard the tap at my front door, that Tom lived the other side of the city. Coming to Croydon was well out of his way, considering his own place was in North West London. No closer to work, than me, really. Just in the complete opposite direction. The fact that he’d made the effort to come all the way to see me, gave me pause for thought.

When I opened the door, Tom was standing on the other side, clutching a bottle of white wine, and wearing a very sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” he said, the instant I beckoned him through the threshold of my doorway, and he thrust the bottle of wine into my hands. It was cold, and had clearly been picked up on his way over from a Newsagents with a chiller. The sudden cold in my hands took me by surprise and I bit back a gasp. Tom frowned at me, waiting for my response.

“Erm…okay,” I nodded slowly, closing the door behind him, “You didn’t have to come all the way here to say sorry. I probably over-reacted.”

Probably. I had definitely over-reacted. Most people would see the funny side. Hell…I’d have normally seen the funny side. Except, when it was at your expense, and the subject of the joke was actually something that was quite upsetting to you, it wasn’t very funny. But how could I expect Tom to understand why I was so upset over my hair. It was just hair.

Hair which he was now looking at with a renewed interest.

Of course. At work, it had been clipped up. But now, post blow dry. He could see the dodgy style in all its horrifying glory. Wonky fringe, and uneven layers, the lot.

“Wow… Kar… that hairdresser’s really did a number on you, didn’t they?”

“Tom, you’ve come here to apologise, but if you’re going to start on me again, I’d rather you just left,” I thrust the wine bottle back in his direction, and pointed at the door, “You can take your cheap bottle of plonk, and bugger off.”

“No, no, I’m not taking the piss, Kara. I promise,” Tom held up his hands, palms out, as if to show he wasn’t there to hurt me. “And I’ll have you know that wine just cost me ten quid.”

He looked sincere. His eyes were wide and full of concern. That’s what  set me off again. As if I hadn’t wasted enough tears over a stupid haircut already.  

“Oh, no…oh Kara, love. Please don’t cry,” he lunged forward, and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. Completely forgetting the bottle of wine, which was now trapped between our bodies still in my grasp.

“It’s…so…stupid,” I sniffed and wiped my face on his jacket, “It’s just hair.”

“It’s not stupid.”

“It is though,” I hiccoughed, and pulled away from him, “Sorry, I’m crying all over you.”

“Listen, I’ve got a friend, he works for Toni and Guy, he’s a top level stylist. I’ve had a chat, and he says he can see you tomorrow. He’s based not far from work, and Nick has said you can take the morning off.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because I told him I’d been a complete knob, and I wasn’t sure if you’d ever come back, if I didn’t try and help you put this right.”

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t afford it anyway, and the salon said I probably shouldn’t put anything on it for a few weeks, or it’ll all fall out or something,” I shrugged hopelessly.

“Well, that might an improvement,” I knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but his jibe cost him a harsh glare from me, “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, “Anyway, I spoke to my friend, he said he can help, and he definitely knows more than those idiots that fucked it up in the first place. And as for the cost, it’s my treat. Don’t worry about it.”

“I can’t let you do that. It’ll cost a fortune.”

“Kara. I wasted money on a homemade cake, for a joke today. I can afford a haircut. Besides, I want to do this for you. I hate seeing you so upset. Especially when I’m the one whose fault it is.”

“You didn’t do this,” I gestured to my hair, “How is it your fault?”

“Well, I’m supposed to be your friend. Friends don’t kick each other when they’re down,” Tom shrugged, “Anyway, you’re seeing my friend tomorrow and he’ll fix it for you.”

“Well…that’s very nice. Thank you. Do you…want a glass of this?” I held up the bottle of wine.

“Why do you think I brought it?”

I went into the kitchen, Tom was hot on my heels, and hung behind me whilst I fetched two glasses from the cupboard and poured us each a glass of wine.

“Here,” I turned and put a glass in his hand. We went through to the living room, and sat together on my little sofa. We both sipped our wine quietly, and I wondered how long he would stay. It would take him well over an hour to get across London this time of the night. I couldn’t help but feel bad that he’d felt the need to make the effort, all because I couldn’t take a joke.

“I don’t mean this to come across the wrong way, but I’m not sure why you felt the need to change your hair anyway. It was fine as it was,” Tom said, somewhat out of the blue. I’d thought the topic of my hair catastrophe was done with.

“It wasn’t fine, it was boring, and dull.”

“It was lovely, and natural.”

“Since when do you have an opinion on my hair.”

“Since you felt the need to ruin something beautiful,” he shot back without a beat.

“Beautiful,” I scoffed, “Since when have you considered anything natural about a woman, as beautiful?”

“I beg your pardon?” Okay, maybe they was harsh, and I shouldn’t have been surprised by his insulted expression.

“I didn’t mean…I just…” I stammered trying to explain myself, “I’ve seen the women you date, Tom. We’ve worked together long enough. You can’t sit there trying to tell me I shouldn’t be changing my hair because it’s beautiful in its natural state, when I know for a fact that in your eyes, me and beautiful are two things which don’t go together.”

“Oh you know that for a fact do you?” Tom spat, looking surprisingly, more annoyed than I’d ever seen him. And I’d seen him lose a contract he’d worked on for over three months, “You think because I date a lot of women who bleach their hair and cake on make-up, that I don’t appreciate natural beauty. That I don’t think of you as beautiful?”

“You’ve never given me reason to think you do. But that’s fine, Tom, you’re allowed to have a type. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. It’s just…don’t judge my decision to try and change my appearance, in an attempt to appear more aesthetically pleasing, when you’re in no position to do so,” I exclaimed, truly exasperated. I didn’t expect him to sit there and lie to make me feel better. Or to try and justify his proclivities.

“I like all women, Kar… all shapes and sizes, it doesn’t bother me. I’m not picky.”

“You are a bit,” I muttered under my breath.

“Well, alright, yeah, I can be a bit picky, but it never has anything to do with looks.”

“Why are we even talking about this?” I wondered, finally. I didn’t want to talk about Tom’s dating catalog, it was literally the last thing I needed right now.

“Because, you seem to be under the impression that I don’t think you’re beautiful. Which I do, actually,” Tom stated, very matter of fact.

“Tom, please don’t do this. I know you think it’s making me feel better, but it’s not. I appreciate you coming here, and also sorting me out an appointment with your friend. But you don’t need to shower me with fake compliments. I don’t…what you think about me doesn’t matter. It’s fine,” the words were rushed, and Tom’s brow furrowed in frustration.

“You’re not listening to me, Kara. I’m not trying to make you feel better, and my compliments are not fake. I’m trying to tell you that I like you, that I have for a while. Which is why I feel so awful for upsetting you today. And I always think you’re beautiful,” he paused, taking a short breath, before adding, “Even with your god awful Toyah hair do.”

“What?” I asked, bluntly. Ignoring his comment about the hair.

“You heard me, Kara.”

“You like me? Like me, like me?” he nodded, “Since when?”

“Well… a while. I don’t know?”

“But… why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I was trying to be professional, we have to work together. Also, I didn’t want to make a move unless I knew you liked me too, because it would make things awkward,” Tom explained, as if it was the most obvious reasoning in the world, “And up until very recently you were still dating dickhead Dan.”

“But all you do is wind me up, and argue with me.”

“You argue with me too! Plus…I like it when we bicker. I like your fire, Kara. I purposely try to get a rise out of you, because…well… it’s sexy as hell.”

“Oh come on!” I scoffed, incredulous.

“You don’t believe me do you?” He set his wine down on the coffee table.

“I just… you date so many women, really stunning ones.”

“I date a lot of women, because I’m single and I like female company. Am I seeing any of them more than once or twice? Am I looking for anything more than dinner, and maybe sometimes sex? I’ve not had a proper relationship in almost two years Kar…because I’ve been too hung up on you.”

“Oh.”

“I hated that I made you cry today. I never, ever want to hurt you. Although I didn’t plan on telling you quite like this –”

He didn’t get time to finish, because I cut him off, with my lips against his.

Tom froze momentarily, and I wondered for a second, if kissing him had been a mistake. Just because he apparently liked me, it didn’t mean he wanted to make a move. I went to pull back, parting our lips, but as I did so, I felt Tom’s hand grasp the back of my head, pulling back, and he  mumbled his disapproval of my intention to pull away.

He kissed me back this time, his lips insistently working against mine. I flung my arm out, the one still grasping my own wine glass, feeling for the table until I could set it down. Then once it was safely out my hands, I moved back into the kiss properly, maneuvering myself, until I could clamber up and push Tom against the back of the sofa, and straddle his lap.

“Fuck, Kara, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted you like this.”

“About as long as I’ve wanted you,” I responded, moving back to press little kisses along his jaw and neck.

“But…but you were with Dan?”

“Only because I couldn’t bear the thought of being single. It took him cheating on me, to make me realise that I’d rather be on my own, than with him. My self esteem isn’t great, but I know I’m better than that.”

“He cheated on you?” I hadn’t meant to let that lip, I’d not told anyone that part.

“Yeah.”

“What a fucking idiot,” Tom mumbled, tugging me back towards him and kissing me again. When his hand travelling from my hip to my right breast and squeezed trough the worn fabric of my t-shirt, I gasped. The second my lips parted, his tongue plunged into my mouth. He worked a nipple between his fingers, and I groaned loudly into his mouth, grinding myself down into his lap.

“Tom,” I whimpered his name, breaking the kiss, “I wanted you too. For a really long time. I thought… I never thought you could like someone like me.”

“What on earth, Kara?” his hand left my breast and settled back on my hip, he pulled back and his eyes searched mine, “Someone like you? You’re wonderful. You’re beautiful, smart, and incredibly sexy. I’m so incredibly lucky to even know you, to have you as a friend, let alone, on my lap, rubbing yourself on my cock like it’s your fucking job or something.”

I giggled, and ground down again, giving him a playful smile, “Like that?”

“Fucking minx, I always knew you’d be like this. Please tell me I don’t have to go home.”

“You don’t have to go home,” I answered, placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth, pleased that he was thinking the same as me. I couldn’t think of letting him leave now.

“Thank god,” he breathed, “Now… lets find you a suitable hat, to cover that monstrosity on your head, then I’m going to take you to bed and fuck you so good, that tomorrow you’ll go into work with a bad limp and a huge smile, and no one will have any doubt exactly what you’ve been up to.”

I didn’t even have time to formulate a suitable sassy response, before I found myself lifted off the sofa and marched across the flat, and thrown, unceremoniously onto my bed.  

[teddystrap]

Drama CD: [今、隣のキミに恋をする] CASE4 日向 傑

A sorta new (2018-2019) six-disc series from TEAM Entertainment Inc. Guy #4 is my first listen, and from the looks of it the first three characters are students and the latter three are working/adults. Some stats on #4 from the official site:

Age: 30 Height: 175 cm Occupation: Foreign investment company employee Relation: Your superior who sits at the next desk

♥

Our story starts with a meeting, where the boss compliments Hyuuga Suguru (cv. Hirakawa Daisuke) for having the highest # of clients this month. To which Hyuuga thanks his team and says he couldn't have done it without them.

Co-workers of both sexes question in awe if he is even human, because he has everything: looks, brains, AND a great personality it seems. Even the ladies from the other departments all have their eye on him, and it's hard for us mere mortals to even get near to him *le sighzzz*.

...Enter YOU, staying behind to work overtime because the bossman had dumped a mountain of folders on your desk. Hyuuga sees you just as he's about to leave after a time-consuming client. He praises your dedication, but says that you should learn to say 'no' to people occasionally or else you will die of karoushi. (Ok he didn't exactly say it like *that*; I took some liberties.)

So, as your senpai, he’s staying to help you with your work. In return, he only asks that you lend him a hand in the future if he's ever in a pinch ;)

Both of you finalllly finish your work, and he brings you a coffee. You ask him why he stayed to help you, and he replies that, as a man, he couldn't bear to see a girl struggle with everything by herself. Also, you are the hardest worker in the entire department, and he wants you to succeed~ (ง •̀_•́)ง Shucks ain’t that sweet?? :3

Afterwards. he offers to take you home, since there's no more public transport at this time of night and it's unsafe for a girl to go home alone. On the way he asks about the office drinking party on Sunday, which you are both planning to attend.

…At the drinking party, Hyuuga is surrounded by #drunkpeopleactingdumb. He notices that you are being rather quiet, and you explain that you are not much of a party-person. To which he replies that he's the same way!! You are surprised because he seems so popular, but he jokes that he must seem like an ojisan to someone your age. A cheesy exchange ensues:

You: Ojisan? That's not true, Hyuuga-san is cool af. Him: Cool? Whythankyouverymuch, that's an honour. Looks like I'll have to work harder from now on, in order to maintain my cool af image in your eyes! You: But... the way you are right now is enough... Him: 'The way I am right now is enough'... for what?

Just then you are interrupted by a drunken co-worker, who forces more drinks onto Hyuuga. Hyuuga remarks lovingly that everyone at the office is like his family, making the drunk dude cry tears of joy into his sake. Ay-yai-yai.

♥

NEWSFLASH: your department is going to have a reorganisation soon. You and Hyuuga will be on the same team, and you will become his new assistant! So then he casually asks about your document-prep time, and mutters 'SLOWPOKE' under his breath after hearing your reply. You thought you heard him say something and question him, but he denies it *whistles innocently*. Hmm...

After work, you show up at your regular bar following a long absence. The staff tell you they've missed you, and gossip to you about a new regular customer who goes by 'Suu-san'. According to them, this person has the face of an idol, but a completely *twisted* personality, always complaining about work. At that very instant, who else but Hyuuga enters the bar, and it is confirmed that he is the Suu-san they are talking about.

Hyuuga didn't see you, and before the staff can make the introductions, he cuts them off and places his order, launching into his usual work complaints. He bitches about his new female assistant who is sooo slowwwwww that he is forced to take work home and sacrifice his weekends. And all the other co-workers are either unhelpful retards or pathetic gold-diggers. THAT PLACE IS DOOMED, YO.

After his spiel (of which you heard every word), the bar owner turns back to you... and that is when Hyuuga finally notices you. He is so shocked that he spits out his drink LOL, and hurriedly pays and drags you outside to *talk*. He tells you that what you heard are his true feelings, while his 'work persona' is but a carefully crafted act for survival. Also, he only helps you with your work because your slowness affects his work.

Unsurprisingly, you are shocked and hurt by his confessions, but he doesn't even seem to care. In his view, you and the other co-workers only like his fake personality and not the real him anyway. His only concern is that you keep this a secret from them, and luckily for him, you agree to it without much fuss.

Next day at the office, you keep your promise and didn't tell anyone. But unfortunately, you look all #doom&gloom and are clearly avoiding him. Since you are his assistant, it would look too suspicious, so he orders you to act normal - i.e. like his loving kouhai... OR ELSE.

♥

After work, it's pouring and you've forgotten your umbrella. What's worse, it's not going to stop any time soon. Hyuuga sees your sorry state and makes you *beg* him to share his umbrella with you. At first you refuse, but, not wanting to be stuck at the office all night, you reluctantly beg him in the end and walk to the station together.

Along the way, he tells you to scoot closer under the umbrella (-ella, -ella,...) so that you don't catch a cold and miss work. #TSUNDEREALERT!!! Then he sees the #1 most cliched item ever to appear on a rainy day: An abandoned baby kitten in a cardboard box. He instructs you to take his umbrella home, while he takes the kitten with him and hails a taxi to safety.

…

It's the weekend! You are at his place!! And it's not what you think!!!!!!! (Wait, ...what ARE you thinking? ;P) There's an error in your document, and he's called you over to fix it before handing it over to the client. As your superior and a bona-fide #goodguy, he will have to take responsibility for your misses :'). He threatens that he gon' make you pay for wasting his weekend, and you cower in fear imagining unsavoury scenarios XD.

He teases you about your gutter-mind, and you become on the verge of tears. Your defenselessness makes him want to bully you more, so he announces that you will become his sex-slave, because... he is interested in you (!!), and this is how he treats people he likes. #ufeelingluckypunk??!

Except for past girlfriends, he hasn't invited anyone else to his place. Hearing this makes you slightly happy :3. What's more, he promises to treat you to some delicious food after you finish the work. (Awww I am melting~~~) You call him sweet, and he overreacts and denies it, making you laugh XDD. He tells you that, in the past, *some people* have said he has a bad personality, and it's stuck.

Later the stray kitten that he brought home came running out. He's named it 「アメ」 ('rain', after that fateful day of their meeting) and nursed it back to health. You observe that the way he talks to Ame is super cute, which embarrasses him, and he's all like 'SHUT UP AND DO UR WORK' to cover up his shyness wwwww~~~

Afterwards, he compliments you on a job well-done and calls you a responsible and almost-perfect worker - your only weakness is your speed (or lack thereof). You are surprised by his praise and start to reevaluate him. This is when he tells you his #assholebackstory:

Once upon a time, he was in love with a girl and tried his best to make her happy... only for her to tell him that he is a hurtful bastard who is abusive to everyone around him. This misunderstanding was a huge blow to his self-esteem, and ever since then, he started putting on the inoffensive persona that he uses at work, in order to navigate the treacherous terrain of social relations.

On hearing this, you become sympathetic, despite his protests to the contrary. You bring up the rain etc. as examples that he is actually a big softie, and he tries to come up with excuses how they are just normal behaviour. He also admits that he's secretly glad it was you who overheard him at the bar that day, instead of anyone else. His embarrassed confession is so adorable that you call him 'cute' again, and he gets all #angrytsundere trying to deny it lulz.

♥

At the next meeting, the boss assigns a big client to your team. Afterwards, Hyuuga invites you to lunch together, Your closeness starts to arouse the jealousy of some women in your dept, and they gossip behind your back (which Hyuuga overhears). During lunch, Hyuuga tells you that you are not only important to the team, but to him personally as well. You are all like #confusedpuppyeyes, which makes him doki-doki, but just then the waiter arrives with your food, and he swallows back his confession. #badtiming ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Days later, some v. important data for this case has gone missing, and Hyuuga asks the boss for some time to fix this. You apologise and admit that you might have lost it by accident, but he doesn't believe that you would make a silly mistake like that. Two female co-workers come over and badmouth you for your carelessness, and Hyuuga starts to yell at them but you stop him.

At this point, Hyuuga can't hold back anymore, and says outright that he saw the two of them at your desk yesterday after everyone had left. He threatens to check the building's security cam footage. As the culprits struggle to come up with an excuse, he flies into a fit of rage and goes ballistic on them at some length before storming out.

You chase after him and express your worry now that he has revealed his 'true self' in the office. But he doesn't seem concerned - more than keeping up his persona, he has now found something *more important* to protect. You don't get his meaning, and he's all like (┛◉Д◉)┛︵ ┻━┻ 'cos he can't believe how dumb you are. #rofl

So then FINALLY, dude confesses that he likes you! Your acceptance and nonchalance after seeing his true self, plus your knack for bringing out his gentle side, have (#reluctantly) won him over. He asks you to date him, and you laugh good-naturedly at his whole #ore-sama attitude before saying a resounding YES. (ﾉ*>ω<)ﾉ~☆

[Epilogue / half a year later]

You come out of the shower with your hair all wet, and he nags at you while drying it for you. He complains that you are more low-maintenance than a dude, and he feels more like your mum than your boyfriend XD.

Ever since revealing his true personality at the office that day, everyone has ironically grown even closer to him, and he wonders if you are all secretly a bunch of do-M's lol. Then he snuggles up with you for the night and thanks you for accepting every side of him, and promises to stay by your side 4everrrr.

♥

[Thoughts] I loved this story!! Sure it has a bunch of cliches and predictable elements in it, but I love the way he gradually changed his attitude and slowly warmed up to our lovely heroine. You also get to hear Hirarin as an オラオラ/ヤンキーtype, which is so out-of-character for him. He’s just too cute/hilarious when he gets angry to hide his shyness. And the way he raged at those two jealous co-workers... Is this even real?? OMG.

The audio is from the bonus track/free talk, where he does his special baby voice that he uses to talk to cats, and... I JUST CAN’T. EVEN. I mean just listen to it. wwwwwwwww~~~ XDDD. Hirarin also reveals that, on his 30th birthday, he got a msg from his dad explaining why they named him ‘Daisuke’. The reason is kept secret here, but apparently 「大輔」 means was a kind of high-ranking official title in olden times (pre-Heian). #don’tquoteme

One other thing I really liked, is that some of the side characters are voiced as well, like the boss and co-workers. It’s so refreshing and cuts the monotony of usual situation CDs where you have to guess what the other people are saying, because everyone else is unvoiced. Especially in fight scenes, where your guy starts taunting and/or getting injured by *nobody*. But anyway.

[blvelight]

hey guys !! i’m kat and i’m super excited for this rp ! i live in the nt, i’m a double leo and a floundering english student who’s fallen behind on my skincare routine this past week and feels a bit like shit as a result.. dk what that says about me when it’s all put together but let’s hope it’s nothing too ugly dgsfklj i’m super late with getting my intros all ready for opening — bc i have less than an hour as i’m typing out this intro to get dree and tally’s prepared DSKGLF — so stats, plots, etc are gonna have to wait as well, unfortunately. but getting to the point:

☕ . ˚ ◝ ( deepika padukone. cis female. she/her. ) amla jothadi is a thirty-one year old libra. the deja brew cake decorator’s go-to order is raspberry peach italian soda and a chocolatine. they like to listen to he can only hold her by amy winehouse while they wait for their order. the employees of the deja brew think they are apprehensive but swear they’re totally adept as well. maybe that’s why neatly-stacked novels, lilacs, bitten pen caps, and singing in a long and hot shower remind me of them.

i’m literally just copying this from an old intro and fixing shit for location’s sake, so don’t @ me if i fucked up a bit in doing that DFKLS

had lived in london for her entire life and her home life was rather.. standard ??

middle child, only daughter syndrome didn’t hit her too hard bc she was the apple of her father’s eye and was a near-mirror image of her mother, so she had them both wrapped around her finger fsgdkldfgj

her and her brothers got along okay, hair-pulling and exclusion bc of “boys only”/”leave my friends alone” moments aside, so it really was a rather mundane childhood that she had

p much the crybaby of her graduating class, overly sentimental and sweet so she was at most an annoyance to some

but it did make her a solid target for some of the mean kids bc they could get a reaction out of her pretty easily

nonetheless, she wasn’t the type to hold grudges for it, just dodged them and moved on from it as much as she could bc she figured they’d get bored of seeking her out eventually

all in all a teacher’s pet, friendly to all and just. adorable. slkdfgjdfs

she had an interest in cooking and writing from a young age, but left the former as a hobby and began to build a desire to do the latter as a career

but of course ! nothing is that simple !

at some point she realized that writing probably wouldn’t pay the bills by itself — when she actually became an adult and would have to do that herself sfgdlk

so upon entering uni, she decided to go for a communications degree, thinking that she could at least start off as a secretary or clerk at a media group before doing something creative there

.. but years passed after graduating and she was still but a clerk. handling files and documents, answering calls that shouldn’t even be sent her way at times bc the people around her couldn’t be bothered, having a hard time with putting her foot down so she winds up swamped and stagnant before even hitting her thirties

and that’s not at all how she pictured her life at this age, so she’s disappointed and stressed and sad af

but she thought she had to take it bc it seemed like an unspoken rule that you do four years at uni, you do your masters or get out there and lock yourself down to a company/occupation for the next 40 years of your life before living it up at 70 in florida or at your tiny house in the countryside

her passion for writing and some of her hobbies floundered bc of how much the desk jockey life stressed her out, the only thing keeping her from wholly spiralling being her fridays at the pub with her college friends

.. though seeing things work out for them ( for the most part ) where they didn’t for her didn’t alleviate her worries 100%

so come her 29th birthday, she.. had her inevitable quarter life crisis of sorts, cringey rom com plotlines serving as inspo

bc she just. wasn’t happy with her life at that point, had no real sense of adventure or pure freedom bc she locked herself down to what she thought she’s supposed to do or focus on

and it was when she was binging.. rom coms klgjdsfgkl that she figured she should throw caution to the wind and go somewhere else. some deep diving via google for destinations later and she fell in love with italy !

.... yes, we’re going on a bit of a road trip before we get to l.a, bear with me for a sec

so she spent time in a little village, just living life and staying far from her former office life, going at her own pace

she wanted to delve into writing as she planned at one point, a now or never kind of thing, and it was just a relief to even get back to it so she’s been at it ever since

cooking classes and baking, reading in the garden near her house, lots of other cute things filled up her days now and she’s having a great time as a result sgkldjsd

it was there that she began doing a few odd jobs here and there so she could sustain herself financially, as opposed to returning to some 9-5 life so soon, and just focused on herself and her interests with this new lifestyle

it’s been a year or so since she left that village and travelled a bit — south of france, spain, basically went all over the mediterranean on her way to the states for what was supposed to be a few months of leisure and repeating the cycle she’s been on for a while

 but then.. she got to l.a. and just ?? decided to stay a little longer than expected, has been here for a few months now and doesn’t have any upcoming plans to uproot herself again

she’s currently working part-time at deja brew as a cake decorator. figured she might as well work at the café she frequents bc coffee ? treats ?? a chill reading environment ??? sign her up !

you can find her at some cozy little bookstore nestled somewhere in the city as another gig she’s taken up for now, or at her small studio apartment that’s littered with plants, novels and pillows fdksgjgldfk

personality and such

basically........ amla’s baby

she’s not naive, but she has a relatively gentle soul

wholesome isn’t quite a word i’d use to describe her but she’s just super cute and a simpleton in some respects

the type to spare baby ants and spiders from being crushed by a slipper for being in the house, but to get someone else to take care of the.. creepier insects jskdfh

she’s not a big risk-taker bc the unknown scares her, so for her to even do what she’s been doing for the last two years took a lot out of her to muster up the nerve

so she’s a bit of an anxious person who at times needs assurance, even from a complete stranger

v big on global issues bc she wants the world to be a more peaceful place, so there’s a side of her that tends to see in black and white rather than grey…. or rose ig sdgklsd

the simple things in life appeal to her a lot, though a luxury or two is welcome if she can put it to good use

the mom friend in some situations :( a cutie

she’s a romantic, like she has the vibe even when she tries to play it off like the extent of it is a bit closeted, secretive yknow ??

bc even then.. she has her trepidations bc of the relationships that had flamed out in the past for whatever reason

has a cat named rory, who she loves and might be projecting her slight baby fever onto for the time being

.. basically she’s your white picket fence fantasist — but make it rustic and less cliché — who’s managing to grip her bearings on the matter, if you couldn’t already tell slkgjgfsd

y’know how some people get really emotional and quiet in an argument but proceed to snap almost out of fucking nowhere ?? that’s amla

sdlfkgj she’s used to having been a doormat or target in the past, so she tends to let herself take it until she realizes “ hey, i don’t need to be shit on like this, how dare you — ”

just. love her please fklfgdjskld

[tetrakys]

Memories lost, Memories found - Armin

This ended up being way longer than expected, and I am not sure I am ever going to write about Armin again, it’s painful and this took everything I had from me.

First, read the Intro here.

I looked around the square trying to get my bearings. This had probably been a stupid idea. After the longest and most uncomfortable bus trip ever, I didn’t even know Armin’s precise address. That night at the Snake Room Alexy had blurted out just the name of the town and neighbourhood. I looked at my phone biting my lower lip pensively… I had only two options, call Alexy and ask for his brother’s full address or give up and go back home.

I wasn’t sure Alexy was willing to talk though, after what had happened between him and Rosa I didn’t know where we stood. However, I was willing to beg. I knew exactly what was waiting for me back home, uncertainty and drama. I had been almost on the verge to offer my heart and body to someone just a couple of days ago, and now… now I wondered if there was anything left to offer at all. I had already given both to someone else a long time ago.

I was just about to look up Alexy’s number when something caught my eye. I stopped dead in my tracks in front of a gaming shop, a sign hanging on the door:

‘Last One Standing tournament TONIGHT!’

Armin loved this game. I remembered the hours spent playing together in his room, we both had a serious competitive streak. We could spend the whole day just playing and eating take out. Sometimes… well, many times, the passion we put in the game turned into something else and we ended up getting distracted for a while. Had there ever been happier days than those when all I needed was my laptop, a slice of cold pizza and him?

I pushed the door and walked into the shop. A brief conversation with the sales assistant confirmed that the competition was about to start but I was just in time to join the if I wished to. Mostly, he was probably surprised, usually there weren’t many hardcore girl players. At least not many respects to the sheer number of male players anyway. I payed my entrance fee and headed to the basement.

Of course the competition was in a basement, or rather the ‘gaming den’ as he had called it. The place was very dark, and each gaming-station, there were about fifty of them, had everything any geek could hope for: state of the art gaming gear, energy drinks, snacks… also everything was positioned in a way to guarantee each player their own privacy for maximal concentration.

I only had a few minutes to set me up and log in. I froze when I got to the choose-your-nickname section, memories rushing over me.

 —–o—–

“Why do you always choose the same nickname?” Armin asked me, turning around in his desk chair.

“You are not very original yourself” I pointed out from his bed, “yours is always one of the Ninja Turtle’s names.”

“At least I have four to choose from depending on my mood, and it totally makes sense, the TMNTs are my spirit animals” he replied “you can’t deny how much we have in common” he grinned pointing at the half empty pizza box and his small collection of nunchakus and sai on the walls.

“I do see a resemblance…” I said with a fake pensive tone of voice. He threw a pillow at me that I easily dodged.

“I am serious though, you always use either Tetraktys or a misspelled version of it, what does it even mean?”

“The Tetraktys was a sacred metaphysical symbol for Pythagoras and his disciples” I explained, “You can see it as a geometrical representation of the number 10 as the fourth triangular number. It has many meanings and embraces in itself the harmony of the cosmos and the divine. It was seen as the image of perfection and, well, of course, it reminds me to aim to perfection in everything I do.” I grinned “the misspelling part is my way of pointing out that something imperfect can be perfect in its own way.”

He just looked at me for a few moments, then joined me on the bed. Hovering over me, his hands at each side of my head, eyes staring into mine “You do are perfect, you even educate me on ancient philosophy.”

I cupped his face with my hands “Happy to oblige” my lips drawing closer and closer to his.

  —–o—–

I shook my head to wake up from my daze, I didn’t have time to walk down memory lane. I wasn’t sure Armin was even in this room, but if he was I didn’t want to be too obvious. I wrote Tenn in the nickname space and chose my character. I picked Syberia, she was my favourite, very fast and perfect for long range shooting. The upside was that she usually wasn’t great for close quarters combats, but I knew her as the back of my hand and, in time, I had created my own fighting strategy.

Last One Standing was a game of strategy more than brute force. It consisted of three levels each one different but just as complicated as the others.

I waited for the first level to load. This part was about environment survival: the game loaded some kind of scenario for all players to face, it could be a jungle, an alien invasion, or something similar. Everyone had an hour to get to the safe zone, all players out of it at the end of the timer’s countdown were eliminated.

I stared at the screen, my heart beating fast, the list of players rolling in front of my eyes.

Tenn entered the area

Asterfox entered the area

Shaman entered the area

…

Other thirty or so names followed, then finally

Michelangelo entered the area

I knew it! It was him, it had to be him.

And now? It wasn’t like I had a proper plan, I had (possibly) found him which had been my goal all along, should I just get up and go talk to him? To say what? I wasn’t sure I would accomplish anything other than ruin his night.

I was still trying to figure out what to do, when the first level scenario loaded, and a very distinct memory came back to mind.

—–o—–

“Welcome to Zombie city, Candy” he said gesturing towards the screen, a few days after he had introduced me to the game for the first time.

“Yikes zombies! Disgusting things, I am going to kill them all!” I replied eagerly.

“You will do no such thing” his voice serious “the level starts with just a few of them here and there, but the longer it takes you to reach the safe zone, the more of them appear. At some point it’s going to get impossible to move forward unless you have incredible fire power, and even then, only reckless players or thrill seekers are going to choose that option. No, the smartest way to get to the safe zone is this.” He pointed to a specific route on the map that read ‘sewers’.

“You are kidding, right?” I replied dumbfounded.

“You don’t believe me?”

I shook my head. We teased each other half of the time, it wouldn’t be the first time he pulled something like this just to get a good laugh.

“Go on then, run through the city, collect weapons, try whatever you want and see how it goes.”

“You can be on it! It’s on!”

It was a disaster, I died in the first five minutes. The second time was even worse. Eventually, at some point, after many maaaaany attempts, I managed to get to the safe zone. But he was right, it wasn’t worth it, the fire power alone and the time it took was just too much.

“Fine!” I cried out, throwing the gamepad on the bed out of spite. “You were right, happy?”

“Immensely” he grinned with mischief “I do love the fact you spent most part of the night relentlessly trying until you made it though. I find it really sexy” he added with a glint in his eyes.

“How sexy?” I replied raising a highbrow, turning slowly towards him.

“Very.”

  —–o—–

I knew what to do.

As soon as the countdown started I headed straight for the sewers entrance. I could tell from the little red dots on the map that about seven other people had had the same idea. Once I got there I knew I had been right all along. The player called Michelangelo was there too, he had chosen Markus, a big tank who was great for hand to hand combat, but slightly slower than average without a boost. It was Armin’s favourite character and, if it wasn’t proof enough, he was wearing a blue beanie. The beanie was Armin’s good luck charm.

I stared at the screen like I was trying to drill a hole through it. We were together in the same room, but more than that we were in our element, playing together. I didn’t have time to dwell on the thought, we had to run, sewers were safer but not completely zombie-free.

My character was the fastest one in the group, so I was immediately in front of the pack. I was so focused on just running and surviving the first level that I didn’t notice the recess in the wall until the in-game chat lit up.

Michelangelo wrote: Watch out on your left!

I sidestepped the zombie at the very last moment, one millisecond later and it would have been on me. Given Syberia’s stats it would have been a real pain to get it off in such small quarters.

Tenn wrote: Thanks, it almost got me.

SpiderWeb wrote: Dude, shut up. Less competition in the final level.

Michelangelo wrote: Level 2 is team-up dumbass, any strong team needs a Syberia.

I knew how he felt about team stats, but I also knew that he was just a nice person. I was happy to see some things hadn’t changed.

SpiderWeb started replying obscenities, but dividing his attentions between two tasks was complicated. I chuckled between myself when I saw him being tackled by two zombies soon afterwards.

The next fifteen minutes became a frenzy of just running and dodging. I was a little rusty and risked getting caught a few other times. I hadn’t played in a while, now that I thought about it… I hadn’t played since our breakup. There wasn’t a specific reason why, I had loved the game in the past, but more than anything I had loved playing with him. At the end of the day it didn’t seem to make much sense to play without him. It just hurt.

After another couple of minutes, I managed to fall back into a familiar rhythm, I felt confident enough to start keeping an eye on Armin’s game. Markus wasn’t very fast without a boost, and there had been none to collect in the sewers to this point, so he couldn’t hope to dodge all the zombies like my character did, however he was very good at hand to hand combat. Also, Armin was a real pro at that, he could do miracles with just a pocket knife. I saw him pinning a zombie to the wall and stabbing it in the temple and, ten seconds later, kicking another one in the guts and stomping on its head.

Hot.

Soon after I reached the last turn, but stopped right before entering the safe zone. Level 2 was a co-op game, people who completed level 1 close to the same time ended up in the same group and had to survive it together. Groups were usually of around five or six players, so I had to be careful if I wanted to be sure to end up in the same group as Armin.

I had been chilling in front of the finish line for a couple of minutes when I saw him running towards it. When he crossed it, we did it together. A few seconds later my private chat lit up.

Michelangelo wrote: were you waiting for me?

Tenn wrote: I saw you playing back there, I wanted to make sure to team up with good players for the next round.

Michelangelo wrote: I’m flattered, I hope we end up in the same team, you’re not too bad yourself. Also, I’m partial to Syberia.

My heart skipped a beat, was it because the character reminded him of me?

—–o—–

“Come on Candy, are you ready? We don’t have the whole day.”

“Get in here if you are bored” I replied from the other side of the door, taking one last look at my reflection in the mirror. Tight brown leather trousers, dark green tank top that left part of my midriff exposed and knee-high military boots. I tied my long hair in a ponytail before setting aside the fake shotgun to open the changing room door and letting him in.

“Wow!” Armin looked me up and down with a glint in his eyes “you are every nerd’s wet dream. I’m not sure I should let you walk around Comicon dressed like this.”

“Please” I replied with a dismissive snort “there isn’t a single jealous bone in your body.” I turned back to the mirror and leaned forward to apply some lipstick. I should have probably been the one on the lookout, in that full military attire (bar the beanie) he made for a really dashing Markus.

He locked the door before coming to stand at my back, putting his hands on my hips.

“You’re the sexiest Syberia I have ever seen” he whispered in my ear “all those geeks on the other side of this wall can only dream abut touching you.” His hard chest pressed against my back, our eyes locked in the mirror. “But that’s the only thing they can do… dream.” Running his tongue from the bottom of my neck up to my ear, he caught my lob in his teeth.

“Armin…” I moaned “what are you doing… we don’t have time for this.”

His right hand came up to my breast, while his left one made its way down the hem of my pants.

“No one else can touch you Candy” he whispered, brushing against my sensitive spot, dragging a groan from deep in my throat. “Let me hear you say it.”

“No one can touch me” I shivered in his embrace, his fingers keeping their circling motion.

“Only me.”

“Only you.”

  —–o—–

Michelangelo wrote: I mean… It’s always useful to have a good sniper in your team.

Tenn wrote: Yes. Plus, Syberia is hot. Every nerd’s wet dream, right?

A part of me wanted to bait him, confuse him, make him wonder. I hadn’t talked to him in four years and now that we were finally here… I was kinda pissed. Fuck… was this my great plan? Catfish him?

Level 2 loaded, my plan had worked, Armin and I were on the same team. All players had been divided in small teams with randomly assigned names (we were The Eagles), and each had a mission that was either to protect a suitcase from another team or steal it from them. This time we were the protectors.

I smirked, I knew Armin would not be happy, he much preferred being on the offense side. I, on the other hand, was in my element and knew exactly what to do.

“Okay guys” un unknown voice spoke to my ear making me jump in my chair “let’s talk about this.”

Fuck… fuck fuck fuck!!! I had completely forgotten that this part of the game allowed for the players to communicate through their microphones. What was I going to do now? He was going to recognise me right away; four years wasn’t that long of a time to forget someone’s voice.

“Tenn should cover the area from the top of the building.” My heart skipped a beat, it was him! His voice… I would recognise it between thousands. “SpiderWeb should stay back and take out any enemy that manages to infiltrate the outpost. I am going to draw attention to myself at the entrance while GhostVoid and Silver take them out.”

I recognised the nicknames of some of the players who had been in the sewers with us. Damn… the idiot from before was here too.

“Who made you captain of the team, asshole?” SpiderWeb replied as expected.

“If you have a better idea I am all ears” Armin replied calmly.

“Yes I do, I don’t see why I should stay back and leave all the fun to you.”

“Michelangelo is right” a guy, Silver, replied. His character was Lilith, a little girl with pigtails and a huge axe. She was absolutely devastating but easily damageable, she needed a tank to take her hits and Markus was perfect. “Your character, Teslan, is a ninja assassin, he moves in the shadows and specialises in sneak attacks, he should stay inside and protect the target.”

“Teslan is also good for open attacks, let GhostVoid be at the back!”

“But it makes no sense!” GhostVoid cried “I’m a nuker!”

They fought about this for a while, in the end SpiderWeb begrudgingly accepted to wait inside.

“You haven’t said a word Tenn” Armin pointed out “are you okay with this strategy?”

Here it was, the moment of truth. I deepened my voice and replied. This was going to be a disaster.

“Syberia is a sniper so that’s fine with me.”

A few seconds went by.

“Wooooow are you a chick?!” Silver exclaimed.

“Great. A girl on the team. We are fucked.” SpiderWeb said in a monotone.

“Shut up idiot!” GhostVoid replied “I swear to God if we weren’t on the same team you would be dead by now.”

They kept bantering for a few more minutes while getting into position. The game started a few minutes later. I stood on the edge of our base rooftop, rifle in my hand, waiting for the attack.

“I’m sorry about SpiderWeb” Armin’s voice said to my ears on a private communication channel “he’s a real prick.”

“None taken, I’m used to idiots underestimating me because of my gender when I play” I smirked “It usually comes to bite them right in the ass.”

He laughed, the laugh I remembered so well and hit me in the heart. “I bet it does.”

Another pause. Everyone stood still and silent while we waited for the enemy’s arrival.

“You sound familiar Tenn… where are you from?”

I closed my eyes defeated… he was onto me, I knew it! When I opened them back I instantly noticed something that only I could, thanks to my higher vantage point.

“Guys at your back!”

An enemy’s Teslan was sneaking behind my teammates to infiltrate our base. He was just about to strike Armin’s back with a fatal blow when I shot him right in the eyes and killed him instantly. Soon after all hell broke loose. The whole enemy’s team rushed to meet us on the open field.

“Thank you Tenn, a second later and I would have been a goner” Armin said in our private channel while shielding Silver and fighting the opposite team’s tank at the same time. I checked his game with admiration, he really was a force to be reckoned with. When we were together seeing him play had always turned me on a little. I kept shooting enemies whenever I had a chance, but in the crazy melee it was impossible to get another deadly shot. I managed, however, to make a few hits that saved GhostVoid and Silver in more than one occasion.

“You are great” Armin said after I hit the guy he was battling with, dropping his life span “I’m really happy I have you on my team.”

“Thanks…”

“You didn’t reply to my previous question, are you from around here?” he asked.

“Something like that…” I replied evasively.

“What’s your name?”

“So many questions… are you hitting on me?”

“What if I were… I do like hot girl gamers” he said with a hint of mischief in his voice.

“How do you even know I am hot?” I asked trying to hide my nervousness.

“Your game is too good.”

“This… doesn’t make sense at all.”

In that moment I spotted SpiderWeb jumping in the fight.

“Dude, what the fuck!” GhostVoid cried “who is protecting the target now?!”

“Fuck that” SpiderWeb replied “it was boring as hell just watching you all play”

“Guys… there is a missing player in the other team” I said and quickly scanned the map “fuck there is someone in our base… they had another Teslan!”

I left there my long-shot rifle and rushed into the building armed only with a gun. I was the closest one to the target. From the headphones I could hear the voices of my team members arguing and accusing SpiderWeb who was running back trying to make it into the base. I tuned everyone out while running the remaining two flights of stairs.

The moment I got into the target area a ghastly scene presented in front of my eyes, the enemy’s second Teslan had just grabbed our suitcase and was running out of the room. If he made it out of the building we were done for.

I run after him to the hall of the building, I was never going to make it, so I stopped and took aim. Right when he was about to make it through the threshold I hit him in the back of his head, killing him instantly. A second later SpiderWeb entered the area and I shot him in the chest, killing him as well.

“Fuck!” he cried “you killed me!”

“Sorry” I replied with zero conviction “I got confused between Teslans.”

“The hell you did, bitch! You did it on purpose!”

“Mind your words, you useless prick. Another breath and I am going to have you kicked out of this place forever.” Armin replied seemingly calm but with a very cold tone. “We have won, no thanks to you, just shut up and be grateful.”

I looked at the stats and saw that he was right, while I was dealing with the target the team had managed to take out all the remaining enemies. We had won. I sighed of relief and slumped in my chair, closing my eyes.

Now the final level… all against all… no complicated rules here, the game was called Last One Standing for a reason. Looking at the screen I saw that the other battles had also ended, there were three winning teams and, since all players of a winning team moved to the final stage, there were fifteen people left in the game. Which was starting again in five minutes.

“Nice shot” Armin’s voice said, coming from my headphones.

“Thank you, but I was also lucky, the guy was almost out of the base.”

“I am talking about the one that offed SpiderWeb, but the other one was great too” I could picture the smirk on his face.

“Well… he wasn’t wrong, I can really be a bitch sometimes.”

“He deserved it, and I like this ruthless mean streak of yours. Is that how you act in real life too?” he asked.

“Tsk tsk… why do you keep asking me so many questions?”

“I’m interested.” He was serious, no hint of laughter in his voice.

“You shouldn’t be” I murmured guiltily “I’m a mess.”

“I like a challenge” he said self-confident.

“Why don’t we make this more interesting?” he said after a pause “whoever wins this can ask the other one a question.”

“Why should I agree to this?” I asked with a snort.

“Think about it. Is there anything you want to ask me?”

I thought about it for a moment. There were so many things I wanted to know. What was his life now, if he ever thought about me… if he had moved on.

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

In that moment the game restarted and I run to take cover. “Deal” I said, before disappearing from the starting area. I run around for a little while deciding what to do.

There were 15 players, the best and safest option was to hide for a while and let them murder each other until there were just a few of them left. The setting was a post-apocalyptic city and, in a street, I found an abandoned building that looked promising. There was no map in this level and I couldn’t see where the everyone was, the only indication of the state of the game was the players count on the side of the screen and the announcement that appeared anytime a player was taken out and by whom.

I got in the building and ended up face to face with a someone right away. So much for the idea of the place being empty I thought. He must have been even more surprised than I was because, gun already in my hand, I managed to shoot him killing him immediately. The count went down by one and the message ‘Asterfox was killed by Tenn’ appeared on the right side of the screen.

I paused for a second, checking if anyone else was in the area and, when no one came out to kill me, I went upstairs and, laying on the rooftop, bracing my rifle, I waited while looking at the street below me. I had no intention of drawing attention to myself, so I was going to shoot only if I was sure I had a perfect chance for an instant-kill.

With that strategy I managed to take out another couple of players. After fifteen minutes there were only six left. Soon after the message ‘SpiderWeb was killed by Michelangelo’ appeared on the screen. I smirked, five to go.

“Where are you Tenn?” said Armin’s voice to my ear, our private channel still open.

“Like I am going to tell you” I snorted.

“Nah, that’s good. I like the chase” laughter in his voice, “some things are worth fighting for.”

I drew my breath feeling like I had been suckerpunched.

—–o—–

I was on the bed, laying on my side and hugging my knees to my chest. I was so tired… my eyes were red and swollen, having been crying for the past hour. Since our phone call.

“I am tired Armin” I had said “I don’t feel close to you anymore.”

Last time I had seen him had been three months before, when he had managed to visit me for a weekend.

“You are the one who left Candy. I am trying here, I really am. You are the one who is always busy either with school or new friends” he sounded defeated, we both were. This wasn’t the first time we were having that discussion. “Maybe some things are not meant to be and not worth fighting for.”

After those words I knew it was going to be the last.

  —–o—–

“What do you mean?” I asked him, my voice barely shaking.

“That I learned the hard way when it’s time to give up.”

Hot rage washed over me. In that moment I saw him running below my outpost and went for the kill. I really hadn’t thought it through because the position was completely off and I missed him by a long shot. That, however, had been enough to alert him of my position.

“Gotcha!” I saw him running towards my building. I had to leave the roof immediately.

I had just made it down the stairs when he barged into the building and, a moment later, we were both standing there, our guns pointed to each other.

“Well…” he said chuckling “isn’t this a classic case of Mexican standoff. Really funny.”

“Funny?” I barked “nothing funny about it.”

“Oh yes, very funny indeed, because whatever happens to this point on, I have already won.”

“W-what?”

“Yes, if I shoot and kill you, I can ask you whatever I want. If you kill me, you can ask me whatever you want, effectively achieving my goal of having a conversation face to face with you. So winning in the end doesn’t really matter anymore. I would love to be the one running the show though, so I am going to try to win this anyway.”

“Would you throw away the whole competition?” I replied with poison in my voice, “the moment you shoot me I am out of here, and you still have other three people to take before winning the game.”

“I don’t care. As I said, some things are worth fighting for.”

Picking up a stranger girl in a game yes, but me? Not me.

“Well, maybe there’s nothing worth for me here” I pointed my gun at my own temple. “Goodbye Armin” I said, and shoot.

The moment my screen went black I was gathering my things and running out of the shop as fast as I could.

I heard a “Shit!” at my back but didn’t bother turning around. I knew I had surprised him, no one had killed the other, I didn’t owe him any fucking conversation whatsoever.

I got drenched as soon as I stepped out of the shop, it was raining, almost storming. I didn’t know what to do or where to go, I just knew I had to make as much space between me and the man who had given up on me. The man who I loved and who hadn’t found me worth of his time since a long while ago.

“Candy, stop!”

And like a magic spell, I stopped dead in my tracks and turned around. We were at the opposite ends of a narrow alley, it was so dark and the rain so heavy that I could barely see two feet in front of me. But I could hear his steps while approaching me. A few moments later, I raised my head and saw him standing in front of me.

Armin was exactly like I remembered him, except well… wetter. Taller and broader than one would expect anyone spending most of his days sitting in front of a pc. His black thick hair was a little longer than before, and were now plastered down to his face by the rain, and his eyes… in the dark I couldn’t see their colour, but I could never forget that deep blue I had lost myself in so many times.

We just stared at each other for a moment.

“Why are you here, Candy?” he said breathless.

“Neither of us won, I don’t have to tell you anything” I replied trying to turn around and leave, but he grabbed my arm and pushed me closer to him.

“Why did you come here?” he repeated “Don’t run away again goddammit.”

“I didn’t run away in the first place, you were the one who gave up on us”, I started to cry, luckily the rain was masking my tears.

“We both did. You had your new life and I was standing in your way. I was in a bad place because of my family and my crazy hacking. I wasn’t strong enough… but I am now.”

I stood there in the rain, with no idea of what to do or what to say.

“Why are you here?”

“Because… I had to know.”

“Know what?”

“How I felt about you.”

“And…?”

“It doesn’t matter” I forced myself to reply, “it’s been four years, you never came back for me.”

“You didn’t either.”

“I just did!” I cried.

“So, you are here to get back together.”

I tried to reply in protest, but his mouth came onto mine with strength, he started kissing me with a passion and ardour I hadn’t felt in so many years. He pushed me against a wall and caged me between his strong arms. His chest pressing against mine.

“I knew it was you from the moment I heard your voice” he said in between kisses “I suspected it even before, the way you play… I could recognise you anywhere, behind any mask.”

He kept kissing me and I realised I hadn’t done anything to stop him.

“When I play that game… part of me does it to feel closer to you. I see you behind every Syberia, I remember all the times we played together, all times we were together…”

He grabbed me by the back of my thighs and raised me so that my eyes were now aligned to his, and my legs around his waist.

“You left but the memory of you never did. I love you Candy, I never stopped and never will.”

Now I was the one kissing him with all I got. I put my hands under his shirt, I had to feel his warmth, to feel him.

“I love you too.”

“There’s no going back from this Candy, you’re mine” he said serious.

“I’ve always been…” then added “And you are mine.”

“Forever” he replied, staring me right in the eye.

My hands on his cheeks I stared back at him, “Forever.”

Then I kissed him again, for what would be the first of many, many times.

-----------

Edit: After a prompt request I ended up writing a NSFW sequel for this, you can find it here

[burlybanner]

Syzygy

Notes: New story. Will be putting it in installments, probably once/week. This is more or less to keep me honest with writing it. If I don’t, I won’t finish. I know me far too well. It’s a monster, probably close to NaNoWriMo levels if I’m honest. But it’s a nice monster. Note the tags.

Syzygy

Rating: M (themes/language mostly)

Pairing: Stark Spangled Banner

Special note: an AU of Infundo (post-Infundo Chronicles).

Summary:  They’d always been a triad - sun and moon, encircling a heavenly body...

***

The question was so out of the blue, so perplexing, so - fuck no, he must be losing his hearing - insane that Tony dropped the spanner. It bounced and clanged angrily across the lab's cement floor causing one bot - U - to chirp softly and pick it up. U tried returning it to its creator by repeating bumping against his leg, but Tony focused on one thing right now. One person.

"Run that by me again?"

"You heard me." Bruce Banner stared at an oil smudge between their feet. It was twisted in an odd shape, reminiscent of pancake-shaped licorice. "I don't think I need to repeat myself."

"Oh hell, no. No." Tony yanked the spanner from U's grip and tapped his shoulder with it while pacing the floor. "You don't drop a bombshell like that without giving a guy a hint. What brought this on?"

"Honestly?"

"Yeah, honestly."

"It looks comfortably soothing, I’m tired of running, I like who I am...and." He bit down his response, holding it between his teeth, but Tony could see Bruce mentally shifting gears - frustratingly choosing to conceal a portion of truth. A skill Bruce was, unfortunately, still good at doing.

Bruce sighed. "Maybe I'm warming up to full-on pampering from you and Steve. Do I really need to explain myself?"

"All right, fine. I...get it. Sort of." Tony paused mid-pace and gave Bruce the side-eye, but not without sauntering over to his extremely significant other while poking him in his gut (and Tony's finger sunk in a good five inches, before Bruce swatted his hand away).

Like diving into fresh dough, Tony thought wickedly.  

“Stop that.”

"Whatever. I'm just saying, you're what. Three-sixty? Three-seventy?"

"Three-ninety."

Tony tutted his tongue against his teeth, his eyes scanning Bruce from head to toe. He'd overlooked how round and jowly Bruce's cheeks had become and how much more his heavy belly wobbled over his belt like an over-inflated water balloon.

Tony slowly scraped his lower lip with his teeth and let his libido drink in Bruce's delicious form.  His fat had dissolved all his chiseled edges, smoothing them like candle wax, dimpling him in places Tony never expected to notice. Arms, legs, face, chin, chest, neck - even elbows and fingers Pillsburied up into scrumptious fat. Bruce'd blown up like a county fair attraction and Tony couldn't tell where he'd even put on the extra twenty; Bruce’s fat had settled into all his body’s spare nooks and crannies. All that lovely jiggling Jell-o. Waiting for touches, prods, tickles, and gropes—

"Earth to Tony," Bruce muttered, snapping his fingers in Tony's slackened face.

Tony snorted, pretending Bruce hadn't mesmerized him and turned him so the fuck on. Was he becoming more like Cap these days? Wouldn't doubt it. "ANY-hoo," Tony said, grabbing a rolling chair. He took inventory of Bruce more thoroughly by rolling around the scientist, taking a good 360-look while Bruce stared at his circular pattern.

"Are you trying to orbit me?"

Tony laughed. "No. Although that could be an experiment for another day." Tony poked and prodded Bruce’s flab, freely grabbing fistfuls of his favorite butterball and fluffing his ample butt cheeks.

"Tony," Bruce cautioned.

"Sorry. Couldn't resist."

"What are you plotting?"

"Me, plotting? Perish the thought. I'm planning, Banner. I have ideas, I have a million ideas. But we're gonna have to get Cap involved. He'll want to know."

Bruce fidgeted somewhat, which surprised Tony. Didn't seem like something Bruce would be shy about.

"So soon?"

"Well, yah, the sooner the better." Tony narrowed his eyes at him. "What's bugging you, Care Bear?"

"Nothing," Bruce said, but Tony didn't believe him. He let it slide as he rolled back to his desk.

" 'Nothing' for now, babe, but I'll challenge that declaration later." He did a quick calculation in his head and pulled up Jarvis' keyboard. "J, open a new file for me. Call it, 'Operation Supermax.' "

"Seriously?"

"Don't mock the name, Brucie Bear. It's not like I had time to come up with something better."

"New file created," Jarvis intoned, flooding the room with his soothing AI voice. "Would you like to add to it now, sir?"

Tony grinned at Bruce. "Scan Brucie for me, Jarvis. Put all his current vitals in there. Show us what we're working with."

Jarvis threw up a 3D image of Bruce‘s body and stats. “I will say, I'm quite curious, sirs."

"So‘re we, J. Especially interested in what'll happen after we tell Cap."

Bruce looked less enthused at telling Steve, but whatever. Steve was their partner; not telling him would be ridiculous. "Sure you don't wanna say why you're lookin' grim?"

"I'm not grim," Bruce stated, and Tony waggled his finger at Bruce's lie.

"Not my monkeys, not my circus. But you know Steve'll get it out of you if I can't, Pooh."

"I know."

"Easier to rip off the band-aid."

"I said I knew, didn't I?"

"Fine, fine." Tony toggled a few buttons on his keyboard. "J, call Steve down. We're gonna have a family meeting."

**

But Steve relayed a message through Jarvis saying he'd meet up after he'd finished his workout.  Bruce had grabbed five pounds' worth of snacks and wanted to wait for Steve in the media room, but Tony cajoled and wheedled him until he caved. Which was why he ended up joining Tony in the exercise room instead, ogling Steve's lifting routine.  Well, “cajoling and wheedling” wasn’t exactly right, to be fair. Watching Steve work out was a damn privilege.

"I feel like a stalker," Bruce muttered, unwrapping one of his remaining chocolate bars. He wasn't not staring, though.

"He probably knows we're here. He says he doesn't, but I think he does. I'm just obeyin' my thirst."

"Quit watching those dumb commercials." Bruce scarfed down his jumbo Snickers bar with two or three grateful grunts and gulped down his soda. And no, Bruce's Adam's Apple bobbing so deliciously up and down did not mesmerize Tony. Certainly not.

Nope.

"Mmf--and/or, get off social media. Sounds like you’re trying too hard to fit in with the cool kids."

"Heh. You can't tell me Steve doesn't like teasing us right back." Tony pointed his chin at Steve powerlifting weights rivaling Thor's class. "Look at 'im, you can't tell me he's not a thirst trap."

Bruce made a face as he tossed his wrapper and soda can in the trash. "Definitely too much social media."

Tony's eye lingered over Bruce's dwindling dragon hoard of snacks, which teased a lecherous smile from his lips. "You startin' early, or what?"

"Gotta keep up my strength."

"Mhm." Tony went into his head, thinking about how Steve'd go bonkers. In a good way. Probably in a good way. "You know Steve'll have his own ideas. You gonna let him go hog wild?"

"Oh, hardy-har." Bruce tore into a packet of mini donuts. "Yeah, okay, fine," he grunted. A smattering of donut crumbs sprayed from his full mouth before he put a hand to his lips to stop them. "You figured out why I'm apprehensive. Don't rub it in."

"I'm not tryin' to, Brucie. In fact, I think you're blowing this up way out of proportion." And don't think Tony didn't recognize the pun, even if Bruce didn't. He casually watched Bruce scrape crumbs from his shirt. "Don't you think he cares enough that h--"

"Oh, hey, fellas!"

Steve finally noticed them salivating in front of the spy window. Which was what Tony called it. Really, it was a breezeway with a window to the exercise rooms so folks could check for occupied training floors. But Tony mostly used it to indulge his naturally nosy nature.

Steve grabbed a fresh towel and wrapped it around his neck while Tony bit his tongue. Making lewd comments was tempting and although Steve wouldn't have minded, Bruce would get skittish if he ramped up the tension now. And if Bruce bolted, well...kinda made what he was about to do moot.

"What's up?" Steve dabbed sweat from his forehead and plunked next to Bruce on the thirst trap bench. His cheeks reddened when he noticed the mound of opened goodies. "Is it an emergency? Fury call us in?"

"Oh, nothing like that," Tony said. He propped his feet beneath the breezeway window. "Bruce has something he wants to say."

Bruce wiped powdered sugar off his lips while swallowing thickly. "Well, not...exactly."

"Yeah, ya do, exactly," Tony said, nudging Bruce's shoulder. "Boy Scout," he said, calling to Steve. "D'you think you could steel yourself enough to not act like a kid in a candy store?"

"Tony..."

"Bruce, hon', it's all good. Steve," he started again. Poor guy already looked five kinds of confused. "It's something that'll affect the three of us but unless Bruce explains with his big boy words I'm not gonna help him."

"Traitor," Bruce huffed.

"Only way to kick you out of the nest."

"What," Steve said, finally getting a word in edgewise, "the hell. Are you two talking about?"

Bruce shot Tony a narrow look before turning to Steve. "It's...it's not enough," he began slowly. "I-I mean, we're fine," he stuttered, gesturing to each of them. "We're great. But I want. I want more. And I'm not sure how you'll take it."

"Just know," Tony interrupted, "I'm on board 100% if you are. But I'm looking at this from a scientific perspective more than--"

"I thought you said I should tell him."

"Well, you're taking too long, Banner. Cut to the chase!"

Steve held up a hand, motioning both to shut their traps. "Thank you," he said once they quieted. "Now. Bruce. Muffin." He stroked Bruce's chubby cheek and Bruce melted like butter in his hand. "Gimme the specifics. Let me decide if I'll be okay or not with whatever it is."

But Tony could see the small trembling smile on Cap's features; Steve was noticeably scared. He made a face, hoping Bruce hurried it up before causing irreparable damage.

"I want," Bruce sighed heavily. His glance went back and forth at the men in his life, then to his hands. "I'm not exactly happy at my current weight."

Steve's lips thinned. He looked like someone had taken his favorite toy away, but the expression fled before Bruce caught it.

Tony noticed, though.

"So you want to lose weight," Steve sighed. He kept his voice level but Tony detected his disappointment. "Well, I understand. It's not like we expected it forever and--"

"No," Bruce interrupted, quieter than before. He wrapped his hand around Steve's, stilling the man's jitters. "You've misunderstood. It's...ah. It's the opposite."

Steve's cheeks flared while Tony choked back laughter from Steve's startled expression.

"W-what? You wanna gain more?"

Bruce slowly nodded. "I know you've always been encouraging, and you seemed satisfied when I tapered off. But I really like it when you and Tony feed me." Bruce reached for Tony's hand and rubbed his thumb across their knuckles. "I like breakfasts in bed, lazy nights watching B movies, and eating crappy takeout. I like feeling overstuffed, and the headiness the feeling brings me. I think I've gotten as large as I can on my own. So I'll need help from you and Tony to get...um. Larger."

Steve visibly gulped. "Um. H...how much larger are we talkin'--?"

Bruce glanced Tony's way, and Tony encouraged him with a nod. "Um. To a point where I can  stay sedentary. I'm happy at home - I'm happy here. With us. I don't want to run anymore, and I want to feel grounded. Literally. So--"

"He wants to become immobile," Tony explained, butting in again. "Which is no mean feat, with his metabolism. Even with Bed, even with all the snacking and meals he gets, he's probably leveled off. But if we're talkin' immobility, we're probably addin' another three hundred to him, more or less."

Cap let out a shaky sigh. "Whoa..."

Tony shrugged. "Again, more or less. Depends on what 'immobile' means to a guy like Bruce. 'Course you know," Tony said, sobering. "He's wouldn't be totally immobile, not really." His dark eyes roamed Bruce, emphasizing the seriousness of his next words. "The only way that would happen is if we separated him from the Hulk."

"Which I'm not asking for," Bruce quickly piped. "That's not my goal."

"Good. 'Cause that's more than my paygrade. What'dya think, Spangles?" Tony turned to Steve. "You in, or what?"

"I...I'm not even sure." His expression remained pensive before hovering between Tony and Bruce. "I think I want to understand what that means before I agree to it. It'll change our 'rules,' our dynamics, the team--"

"Absolutely," Bruce agreed. "But I guess...I'd like to retire, if that's okay. From the team. I've already spoken with the university--"

"What?"

"You have?"

Bruce motioned for his boyfriends to calm down.  "I'm not giving up teaching, I'm just switching to an online format. I'll still be an adjunct but I won't teach in person or in front of a classroom. And besides..." He sighed, but a small smile teased his lips. "I won't be mobile enough for a classroom. At least that's what I'm hoping."

Tony shared a look with Steve who looked both mesmerized and stunned. But then Tony noticed something else a sly, (dare he say it), evil mastermind grin on Steve's face rivaling their greatest enemies.

"Steve. Your bad boy expression is showing," Tony muttered.

"I know, I know," Steve breathed. "But I kinda I wanna know how soon we can start."

Part two: https://burlybanner.tumblr.com/post/185854349769/syzygy-2

[fulcrum-agent]

7. Forgiven

"You aren't here to kill me, are you?"

She's teasing him, of course. In the moons that have passed since their conflict, it's become something of a joke between them rather than the point of contention it originally was. His other victims may never come to understand, let alone accept what he did to them, even if she can now joke about it all.

"Not this time, dove," he replies as he settles against the desk she's sitting at. "Merely checkin' in to make sure yer brother ain't steppin' outta line."

Despite her best efforts, she can't help but roll her eyes at the mention of her brother, quill lowering to the desk as she focuses on the Shikari. "It would take a miracle of Faram for my brother to not," she sighs as she leans back into the chair. "I swear he exists for the sole purpose of ruining my day."

This causes the rogue to laugh and smile, both of which resonate in his uncovered eye. With a light shrug, he agrees, "Ye an' I both, lass. Ye an' I both. If I had my way, I'd cast 'im off an' cut 'im loose, an' never look back. I've better things to do than babysit a deadman."

She gives him a wry smile as she stands up from the desk, motioning for him to follow her out of the study and up the stairs. Without waiting to see if he follows, she makes her way up into the kitchen of the beach house where she begins to gather together ingredients.

"You know, you could well do such, were you to be ordered to," she half-teases him, half reminds him as she mixes the ground beef, eggs, and almond meal. "Reassignments happen, even if it strikes your handlers as curious."

Leaning against the wall that separates the kitchen from the sitting room, he shakes his head a bit, the faintest expression of guilt crossing his features before he succeeds in burying it.

"Ain't necessary," he grunts as his good-eye shifts away from her. She finishes putting the mixture into a casserole dish, stashing it in the awaiting oven before turning his direction again. Finding him brooding, she crosses the space between them to set a hand on his upper arm in an attempt to comfort him. He shrugs her touch away, shifting a bit in the opposite direction, refusing to look at her all the while.

"I would think three decades of service is more than retribution for what happened," she soothes in a soft voice, again placing her hand against his upper arm. "The scheme to keep the Sword and Blade out of Imperial hands was a sufficient service, I would think. You need not--" He shifts all a sudden, his hand wrapping around her wrist with a tight grip as his amber gaze finally returns to her, snapping, "You ain't the arbiter o' that, Highness. Neither is yer brother."

Rather than struggle, she goes still and allows him to keep a hold of her wrist, expression serene despite his volatile shift in demeanour. Gazing up at him, aquamarine eyes locked with his singular amber gaze, she remains calm even as she presses the issue with him.

"You can drop the act, Aike," she replies with a gentle smile, "we are the only ones here."

It isn't a request, despite how gently it's given. It also isn't the first time she's called him out on such. Irritated at being outplayed, his grip tightens on her wrist as his features darken with an annoyance that borders on anger.

"You and your brother - the pair of you think you know everything, or at least understand everything. You don't understand this, princess, so spare me the lectures," the rogue snaps in response, giving her wrist a slight jerk for emphasis. "It's one thing to kill strangers or even allies - it's an entirely different matter when you kill your kin, more so when it's done because of false pretences."

Despite the fact his tightened grip and the sudden pull on her wrist hurts, she remains calm and uses the tug to close more space between them. Her other hand raises towards his other arm, only to be grappled like the first as he glares at her.

"Don't," he warns.

"Aike...he knew the risks involved with having to act like an Imperial sympathizer. He knew, at any moment, someone might try - and succeed - at taking his life," she murmurs imploringly. "Whether it was a stranger on the streets, a former friend, or his kin - he knew it was a risk. And he accepted that risk because he believed doing so would help the kingdom."

Both grips tighten as his elbows bend further, dragging her closer as he leers down before growling, "...you weren't there, how the fuck could you know a damn thing about him?"

Standing nearly flush with his form, she continues to look up to his gaze, despite the anger reflected in his countenance. Previously, he'd drawn his blades against her, even slit her throat and poisoned her, so his blustering hardly phases her now. She's too familiar with what he's actually like when desperate and violent.

"Records, Aike. While many of them have been destroyed, we do have some records," she reminds him before explaining further. "Originally, they were supposed to be passed on to you when 'you were old enough to understand', however, a more recent order rescinded such. I suspect as part of the efforts to misdirect you and misuse your post."

Amber eye widens as the rage all but evaporates from his features, his grip on her wrists loosening as he stares down at her. Confusion crosses his countenance, brows knitting as he processes the revelation. "How..." he breathes before he bears down on her again. "When'd you discover this? Why the hells didn't you tell me?"

Even as he regains his grip on her wrists, her expression remains serene, though darkness threatens the edges of such.

"The last time I was in Dalmasca. The General and her companion were going to investigate the situation, in a manner that would not attract attention," she admits to him in a murmur. "Summoning you to tell you anything would have potentially revealed such. We agreed against such, that it would have to happen naturally."

His expression becomes one of indignation framed by regret as his grip begins to loosen once more, "Even though it's often moons and moons between our meetings? Isn't that a little unfair to me?"

"Yes, but life is not fair. Were it fair, you would still have your father," she gently chides him. "I had hoped we could procure the ledger before I saw you again, and I considered waiting to say anything until we had after you arrived but..."

With as little warning, her wrists are released, and she's instead pulled into a tight embrace as the Shikari buries his face against her hair. Awkwardly, due to the suddenness and the positioning, she circles her arms about his midsection to return the hug.

"Faram damn you," he mutters into the mess of fiery strands.

Smiling against his shoulder, she murmurs, "I knew you would understand..."

I’ll start on images tomorrow.

The required tag to @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast.

And stats; sadly, Saber’s accent and too much of the Queen’s English pisses off this editor. There’s no British setting for it either. /cry

[mcrtiniblues-blog]

.. let’s just get this over with SDKLFJDKSLDG this one Has to be typed in full so i’m dying already. sadly, you’re gonna have to wait on her stats page, among others sdfjgkldf

( deepika padukone, cisfemale, she/her. ) hey that’s amla jothadi over by the fountain! i wonder if they took a coin out. i heard the thirty-one year old’s been in sovana for two years and they’re known to be pretty apprehensive but also adept. a song that describes their life would be young by vallis alps and neatly-stacked novels, lilacs, freshly baked banana muffins, & bitten pen caps always reminds me of them.

so unlike halle, amla isn’t super developed as she’s a new new muse sdgjksd

so you’re getting the absolute basics i’m afraid !

had lived in london for her entire life and her home life was rather.. standard ??

middle child, only daughter syndrome didn’t hit her too hard bc she was the apple of her father’s eye and was a near-mirror image of her mother, so she had them both wrapped around her finger fsgdkldfgj

her and her brothers got along okay, hair-pulling and exclusion bc of “boys only”/”leave MY friends alone” moments aside, so it really was a rather mundane childhood that she had

p much the crybaby of her graduating class, overly sentimental and sweet so she was at most an annoyance to some

but it did make her a solid target for some of the mean kids bc they could get a reaction out of her pretty easily

nonetheless, she wasn’t the type to hold grudges for it, just dodged them and moved on from it as much as she could bc she figured they’d get bored of seeking her out eventually

all in all a teacher’s pet, friendly to all and just. adorable. slkdfgjdfs

she had an interest in cooking and writing from a young age, but left the former as a hobby and began to build a desire to do the latter as a career

but of course ! nothing is that simple !

at some point she realized that writing probably wouldn’t pay the bills by itself — when she Actually became an adult and would have to do that herself sfgdlk

so upon entering uni, she decided to go for a communications degree, thinking that she could at least start off as a secretary or clerk at a media group before doing Something creative there

.. but years passed after graduating and she was Still but a clerk. handling files and documents, answering calls that shouldn’t even be sent her way at times bc the people around her couldn’t be bothered, having a hard time with putting her foot down so she winds up swamped and stagnant before even hitting her thirties

and that’s not at All how she pictured her life at this age, so she’s disappointed and stressed and SAD af

but she thought she Had to take it bc it seemed like an unspoken rule that you do four years at uni, you do your masters or get out there and lock yourself down to a company/occupation for the next 40 years of your life before living it up at 70 in florida or at your tiny house in the countryside

her passion for writing and some of her hobbies floundered bc of how much the desk jockey life stressed her out, the only thing keeping her from wholly spiralling being her fridays at the pub with her college friends

.. though seeing things work out for them ( for the most part ) where they didn’t for her didn’t alleviate her worries 100%

so come her 29th birthday, she.. had her inevitable quarter life crisis of sorts, cringey rom com plotlines serving as inspo

bc she just. wasn’t Happy with her life at that point, had no real sense of adventure or pure freedom bc she locked herself down to what she thought she’s SUPPOSED to do or focus on

and it was when she was binging.. rom coms KLGJDSFGKL that she figured she should throw caution to the wind and go somewhere Else. some deep diving via google for destinations later and she fell in love with sovana !

she’s been here for two years now, just living life and staying far from her former office life, going at her own pace

she wants to delve into writing as she planned at one point, a now or never kind of thing, and she’s been... getting back into the swing of things ( EDIT: didn't even realize i left this hanging mid-sentence, didn't remember where i was going with it so filling the void looks a tad nonsensical SGFDLK )

cooking classes and baking, reading in the garden near her house, lots of other cute things fill up her days now and she’s having a Great time as a result SGKLDJSD

she’s done a few odd jobs here and there so she can sustain herself financially, though she’s currently working part-time at a café she frequents bc coffee ? treats ?? a chill reading environment ??? sign her up

personality and such

where halle’s often the bane of my existence ( when she’s not a bit of a mood ), amla’s baby

she’s not naive, but she has a relatively gentle soul 

wholesome isn’t quite a word i’d use to describe her but she’s just super cute and a simpleton in some respects

the type to spare baby ants and spiders from being crushed by a slipper for being in the house, but to get someone else to take care of the.. creepier insects jskdfh

she’s not a Big risk-taker bc The Unknown scares her, so for her to even do what she did two years ago took a LOT out of her to muster up the nerve

so she’s a bit of an anxious person who at times needs assurance, even from a complete stranger 

v big on global issues bc she wants the world to be a more peaceful place, so there’s a side of her that tends to see in black and white rather than grey.... or rose ig sdgklsd

the simple things in life appeal to her a lot, though a luxury or two is welcome if she can put it to good use 

the Mom friend in some situations :( a cutie

she’s a romantic, like she has the Vibe even when she tries to play it off like the extent of it is a bit closeted, secretive yknow ??

bc even then.. she has her trepidations bc of the relationships that had flamed out in the past for whatever reason

has a cat named rory, who she Loves and might be projecting her slight baby fever onto for the time being

.. basically she’s your white picket fence fantasist — but make it rustic and less cliché — who’s managing to grip her bearings on the matter, if you couldn’t already tell SLKGJGFSD

yknow how some people get really emotional and quiet in an argument but proceed to snap almost out of fucking nowhere ?? that’s amla

sdlfkgj she’s used to having been a doormat or target in the past, so she tends to let herself take it until she realizes “ hey, i don’t need to be shit on like this, how Dare you — ”

just. love her please FKLFGDJSKLD

[1358456]

Short Story - A New Ruby

For fun!

Route 101, Hoenn…

Sapphire unlocked the door to her secret base in the cave and entered, with Emerald following with a rather bored expression. Immediately, they spotted Ruby sitting in front of the computer, occasionally nodding in approval.

“Hey Ruby, what are you doing?” Sapphire asked as she walked over.

“Oh hey, great timing,” Ruby said with a smile, looking up at her. “I have something I want to show you and get your feedback.”

“Not another dress, is it?” Sapphire asked with narrowed eyes.

“… Not again…” Emerald muttered with a sigh.

“No, no,” Ruby said, wagging a finger. “It’s an online role playing game that Gold found. And contrary to my initial belief, it’s actually really deep and engaging. In fact, quite a few of the other Dex Holders are playing it. So I gave it a whirl, and I’m in the character creation phase. So, take a look. I think I got my own look down really well!”

Sapphire and Emerald walked around the desk to see the computer screen. Ruby moved to the side a bit to avoid covering up the screen and grinned proudly. Sapphire noticed that the character that Ruby had created looked almost exactly like him, even down to the clothing style! He must’ve spent a ton of time, tinkering with the tiniest of details.

“Wow, that really does look like you,” she commented after a short, low whistle. “You must’ve spent an ass-load of time staring at a mirror.”

“… Don’t like the implication there,” Ruby said, tilting his head a bit. “But anyways, now once I finalize the character creation, I can jump into the game playing as myself, going on a hell of an adventure, but without the risk of physically dying or getting crushed by some super ancient Pokémon.”

“Who else is playing?” Emerald asked, as a sudden thought occurred.

“Gold, Red, Blue, and Y right now. Though apparently, Platinum and White are currently over at Y’s place along with X, so they’re also technically involved,” Ruby answered. “You guys should join in later too, if you’re interested. You can watch me play to see if you like it.”

Emerald grinned and cast a quick glance at Sapphire. She saw his grin and quickly caught on. With a snicker, she suddenly turned to face Ruby and seemingly fell into him for an embrace, holding his arms tight.

“What are you doing?” Ruby asked, taken aback by the sudden move.

Sapphire lifted him off of his chair, still holding his arms, and soon re-positioned so that she was better binding his arms to his torso. “Now, Emerald. Take the wheel!”

Emerald quickly snatched the chair and moved up to the computer, cracking his knuckles. “Time to give your character a little makeover.”

“Wait, what?!” Ruby exclaimed in horror. “No! It took me all day to make my flawless character!”

“Ooh, so many sliders and options!” Emerald exclaimed. “Now, what happens if I max out this slider here?”

The moment Emerald maxed out the slider, the character’s cheeks suddenly seemingly exploded, swelling in size.

“Pfft…” Sapphire choked out upon seeing the screen. “That looks hilarious!”

“No! No! No!” Ruby yelled, thrashing around, trying to free himself. But Sapphire was way too powerful. Trying to break out of her bear hug was like trying to break a steel chain with a toothpick.

“Hey, you’re moving too much! You’re going to hurt yourself!” Sapphire said between laughs. She quickly folded him neatly in half, wrapped his arms around his legs and then bent the knees, as if Ruby was hugging his legs but with his arms between his calves and thighs. She then lifted him up again so that he was practically neatly sitting on her arm as she held him like some paperweight. “There. Now we’re all comfortable.”

“… I’m being literally toyed with, both physically and digitally,” Ruby grumbled. He looked at the screen and noticed that Emerald had maxed out a few more sliders to devastating effects. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see his image being desecrated like this.

“Okay, I’m beginning to see what affects what,” he said, tinkering with a variety of sliders. “Let’s max this one, and… minimize that one. This… I’ll increase a bit, lower that one a bit, and… this one has to go, and… there. What do you think?”

Ruby reluctantly opened his eyes and almost screamed. “… Dude! Why am I like… 5 times bigger?! I look like a damn ball!”

“Oh my, Ruby, you really let yourself go!” Sapphire said between laughs. “You look like 150 kg now!”

“Now let’s finalize this and get on with the game!” Emerald said, clicking on the finalize button. “Ooh. Warning! The character physique customization is final and cannot be changed! Proceed? Hell yes.”

“NO!” Ruby screamed, but Emerald had already clicked on “yes”.

“Ah ha, there’s more customization,” Emerald said, studying the next screen. “Stats! Sapphire, I got to mess with the other one, so you should tell me what to do here.”

“All right!” Sapphire observed the screen but didn’t really understand what she was looking at.

Emerald quickly caught on. “So… there are 4 classes. Warrior, Mage, Assassin, and Healer. Warrior primarily uses strength and stamina, Mage and Healer use intelligence and magic, and Assassin uses speed and perception. So it seems that once we select a class, we get our starting skills, but then we can use skill points to increase what stats we want. So… what should our fat Ruby be?”

“Ooh! Well, let’s make him a Warrior,” Sapphire said. “But dump all the skill points into magic and perception or something!”

“Ah, I see,” Emerald said. “Devious! So we’ll make him a Warrior with bare minimum strength. He’ll hit like a fly and die just as fast! Absolutely no speed and stamina at all. Our fat Ruby here isn’t going to be winning any marathons, ever. And we’ll give him some intelligence so he isn’t a complete dunce. He’ll know all about magic despite having no skills or use for them, and he’ll be really aware of his surroundings, though he won’t be able to use that to his advantage. How does that sound?”

“Oh come on, guys!” Ruby cried out with a groan. “Give me something here!”

“Fine, fine. We’ll give you some good starting equipment,” Emerald said, moving onto the next screen. “We’ll give you the… strongest sword. Look at all that power!”

“But… you gave me no stamina! I’ll be like exhausted after one swing!”

“You should’ve thought of that before inviting us over,” Sapphire said.

“I didn’t! You barged in!”

“Semantics,” Emerald said with a wave. “There! Character creation is now done! Joining the server!”

Sapphire finally let go of Ruby so that he was able to play the game. He gave his character a sad, sad look and reluctantly sat on the chair to begin playing. Sapphire and Emerald gave each other a high five and watched.

Ruby soon received a request from Red to join his party, which Ruby stared at for a long time before reluctantly agreeing.

“Ah, here he comes,” came Red’s voice from the speaker, as he was using a headset for easier communication.

“He probably spent like 7 hours on the details,” came Y’s remark.

Ruby let out a quiet sob as his character finished loading into the area where the other Dex Holders were gathered.

As expected, the Dex Holders’ characters looked very much like their real selves, but with slight exaggerations, as expected from a game. Y was the one who looked most different, as undoubtedly, Platinum and White have pitched in ideas for “in-game improvement”.

The moment “Ruby” finished loading into their screens, the other Dex Holders burst into laughter.

“Ahahahaha! Who the hell is this?!” Y said between laughs. “I don’t know anyone who looks like this!”

“Oh wow, Ruby, what happened to you in the past 4 months?” Blue asked, trying to not laugh but not succeeding.

“I guess we were wrong about you. We thought you’d have spent hours and hours in trying to make yourself look perfect,” Red said. “This clearly took like a minute.”

“You look like you came from a feast for a whole party, but then you ate all the food by yourself!” Gold said, dying of laughter.

Ruby let out another quiet sob. “… This wasn’t me,” he said to his headset. “I was hijacked by Sapphire and Emerald. They did this!”

Sapphire suddenly leaned in to speak through the headset’s microphone. “It’s our new Ruby! What do you guys think?”

“I think Gold literally dying over there is a good indicator,” Y said, steadily calming down, while Gold’s loud laughter kept ringing from the speaker. “… White just took a picture of the game screen. I think she’s going to keep it in a scrapbook or something. That’s savage. … Oh, Miss Platinum wants to see your stats.”

Ruby groaned as the other Dex Holders looked at his stats. They began to laugh once again.

“I guess Sapphire and Emerald did this too,” Blue said. “You are a… very big and slow warrior with no strength and stamina but with excessive knowledge of stuff you can’t use.”

“Oh, dude,” came Gold’s wheezing voice from laughing too hard. “You’re kind of f*cked.”

Ruby sighed and lowered his head. “… I know… Let’s just… move on.”

“All right then, let’s give the first quest a try,” Red suggested.

And just like that, the journey of bloated Ruby began, while his two friends began their back-seat gaming. And it was a very rough journey.

“Hey Ruby, you suck at this game. You’re getting your ass handed to you by a random wild boar!”

“… Shut up, Sapphire.”

[dominic-tiger-marketing-agency]

I Asked 1.7 Million People About Remote Work. Here’s What They Said

Remember when this was supposed to last two weeks?

It’s now been nearly nine months since many of us have stepped foot in the office. In that time, remote work has gone from being a novelty to being the norm. Talk of returning to the office has faded as the virus surges, and many employers are instead planning for a permanent “virtual-first” future.

Since May, I’ve been trying to capture attitudes and predictions about remote work using a tool very close to my heart: social media. I have a community of nearly 2 million passionate professional followers on social media. Every few weeks, I’ve surveyed them using poll features.

At first glance, the results — gathered below—might not appear mind-blowing. We pretty much like working from home. We’re saving a ton of time by not commuting. The tech isn’t perfect, but it’s getting there.

But to me, all of this speaks to something much deeper: how incredibly quickly we’ve been able to adapt to working from home; how long overdue we were for a work “revolution;” how many important questions remain unanswered.

A couple caveats and clarifications. I’m not an expert in data or surveys. I was just curious, and realized I had access to an incredible group of professionals. The ten polls (presented chronologically below) were shared to my 1.7-million-plus LinkedIn followers over the course of six months, starting in May. Each question ended up generating from 2,000–13,000 votes, so a pretty decent sample size IMO. Just as valuable are the dozens (sometimes hundreds!) of comments left by users on each poll, full of strategies and insights on our new WFH reality.

A big thanks to Stephanie Horstkoetter, who suggested compiling all of these results in one place!

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This first poll, from early May, was an eye-opener. Just a couple months into lock-down, and seven out of 10 people were ready to throw in the towel when it came to office life. To me, this was a clear sign that the way we work had been long overdue for a makeover. Out of convention and habit, we had clung to an in-person model, even though technology had opened up a range of other possibilities … until the crisis forced our hand.

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This poll, from early June, got to the heart of one of the early concerns around remote work, i.e. were people still getting the job done? What surprised me was that nearly eight out of 10 people felt they were getting more done at home than in the office. To think: all that time we thought we needed desks and cubicles and managers looking over our shoulders to stay on task. Turns out, many of us are best left to design our own work days.

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So, obviously remote work is going to shave off a ton of commuting time. But what stood out to me from this poll in late June was how much time! More than half of respondents got back one-two hours of their day, while nearly a quarter suddenly had an extra two-plus hours of time. For lots of people, that’s life-changing. Not to mention, that all translates to fewer cars on the road and massive reductions in emissions.

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This poll, from July, was a clear indication that remote work wasn’t necessarily working for everyone. More than four out of ten respondents reported missing out on the social interactions that are such a core part of office life. Translation: we’ve found ways to get the job done remotely using Zoom, Slack, etc., but we’ve got a long way to go when it comes to making that experience rewarding and fulfilling for everyone.

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Hustle and grit are values that I put a lot of stock in, as an entrepreneur and as a leader. For all the challenges we’ve faced this year, it’s been inspiring to see how many people are using this as an opportunity to take charge of their careers, as this poll from August shows. For some, this has meant starting a business of their own. For others, it’s been about learning new ways to do their job, under new conditions. But resting on our laurels doesn’t seem to be a popular option!

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Another elephant in the room when it comes to remote work: we need better tools to do it right. Based on this poll from September, it looks like people are actually OK with Zoom and video conferencing. But there’s a real need for apps that help to manage productivity, as well as platforms to enrich remote onboarding and culture. I see both of these as huge areas of opportunity for tech startups in the years to come.

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As the reality of long-term remote work set in, I think lots of us realized that we needed to start rethinking benefits and perks. Office gyms and catered lunches don’t make sense during a pandemic, so what do people really need right now? Topping the results from this poll in September: benefits to support health and wellness, particularly mental health. With school closures continuing, coming up with solutions for childcare is also critical.

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This poll from early October is kind of a mindblower to me: one out of two respondents is doing more gig work since the pandemic started. This speaks, in part, to how deep the accompanying economic crisis is. But it also says something about the shifting nature of work. My theory: remote work has accelerated already weakening ties between employer and employee. People are realizing that they can go it on their own, without a support network, and are taking that plunge.

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The deeper we get into remote work, the clearer it’s becoming that a one-size-fits-all approach won’t work. As this poll from late October shows, the overwhelming majority of people want to spend at least some time inside a traditional office setting. Employers are quickly realizing that the way forward lies with a hybrid model — virtual-first but with significant in-office components.

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This poll from early November reveals a good news-bad news situation, at least in my eyes. On the one hand, nearly two-thirds of respondents say they’re great at managing themselves in the work-from-home context. However, the remaining third either miss the office environment or are having serious issues sustaining productivity remotely. It’s also worth bearing in mind that these results probably skew a little optimistically. Translation: as remote work continues, it’s going to be incumbent on employers to provide structure and help team members up-level their self-management skills.

Zooming out, what’s exciting to me about all of these stats is the undercurrent of optimism and possibility. The crisis has (and continues to be) exceptionally hard in so many ways — from a health and safety standpoint, emotionally, economically, etc. But when it comes to the way we work, it seems to have jumpstarted important changes that needed to be made. With each passing week, it’s less likely we’ll return to “business as usual,” and that may well be a good thing.

Our challenge now is to build on some of this momentum, while addressing the gaps that have emerged. Policy, technology and culture all need time to catch up to our new work-from-home reality. But for entrepreneurs and companies out there, this all presents significant opportunities in the years ahead.

A big thank you to everyone who responded to these polls over the past six months or so. I think these insights are worth sharing, and I plan to continue gathering data on the remote work experience in the months ahead.

On that note: What survey questions would you like to see asked about remote work? What areas need to be explored? What are the pressing issues you’d like to know more about? Let me know in the comments.

[ephemeralshq]

    ♡.         hi i’m haylee ( she/her ) & i love jenna & julien more than i love myself. seriously, look at these BABIES. anywho !! i live in the est timezone & i have a dog that i’ll probably [ read : will ] talk about 24/7. i can b a bit slow with replies at times simply bc i have work & a somewhat decent ?? social life ?? outside of rping, but if u bear w me, i can promise u i’ll make it up 2 u … probably by sending memes, funny videos or photos of my dog !! or cat. i can’t forget abt her :~) alright !! below the cut you’ll find info abt minjae & with the revamp, i took the chance to tweak some of their information !! i’d really appreciate if u gave it a look ok. their BIO & STATS pages can be found by clicking the links i just linked 4 u. also, as for connections, i basically took this as a chance for minjae to have a blank slate save 4 a few past connections,,,,,,, – tho if u want 2 keep an old connection that isn’t listed, just let me kno ?? i’ll b more than happy 2 add it !! that being said, i’ve set up a nifty connections page that u can find by clicking HERE. so,,,,,,, chogiwaNNA SMASH THAT LIKE BUTTON IF U WANNA PLOT !! THANK. ILY. 

surprise gif below !! i basically couldn’t not put it in, sorry ?? also trigger warnings for DISORDERED EATING, BLOOD MENTIONS, SELF HARM & SLIGHT PHOBIA TOWARD SEXUALITY & GENDER.

BIOGRAPHY :

minjae was born ( their sister soon following after ) in london and was raised there until they were sixteen, thus their first language is english. however, he began learning korean when he was eleven because he found it difficult to communicate with his relatives that weren’t fluent in english. his mother was happy to teach him !

minjae and his sister were incredibly close. he finds it easy to confide in her, and she’s always there for him. she understands him in ways his parents never truly did, and for that he’s so thankful. despite her being younger than him, she’d always come to his defence, protecting him from kids who’d bully minjae for being the way he was ; they often poked fun at his cautious nature, as well as his intelligence and effeminate mannerisms. their harsh words bothered him, and continue to do so ; they’re the main reason his self-image began to decline. they don’t show it as much anymore, as they’ve adopted a stoic exterior, but deep down, they continue to hide certain parts of themself for fear of being scrutinized.

he didn’t participate in sports much as a kid. in fact, he spent his time indoors, immersed in books and other activities like drawing and playing dress up. his mother never really saw anything wrong with it at the time, though it always seemed to rub his father the wrong way. when he was eight, his father refused to let his ❝ son ❞ dress up, and he was brokenhearted. he felt like a part of him had been torn away. as a result of this, minjae withdrew from their father at an early age, finding that they were merely civil around each other, keeping contact to a minimum.

additionally, they found solace in activities such as reading, art, and photography. these hobbies helped him through the years until he discovered his love for fashion ; he was thirteen when this happened.

it wasn’t that minjae didn’t want to get into sports, more so his health didn’t allow him to. minjae was diagnosed a hemophiliac at a young age, which meant that he was prone to excessive bleeding. he often gets nosebleeds as a result of this, and even made a friend once as his nose began bleeding in class and the other person offered to escort him to the school nurse ( possible connection ? ) interestingly enough, minjae loves watching sports, and closely follows football ( soccer ).

their fondness toward fashion started as an interest and grew into a strong liking ; though the liking escalated into an obsession as it began to take its toll on his mental health. his self-image declined as he was surrounded with thin bodies and supposed perfection. he began to view himself under a toxic, negative light ( he was only fourteen ) which resulted in him beginning and keeping an extensive journal containing daily logs describing the amount of calories he’d eat, his weight, his body measurements, and his exercise routines. recording data in this journal became routine ; he’d write in it after every meal, and if he chose not to eat, right before bed. they also began to self-harm ( they burned themself ), using it as a coping method and a form of punishment whenever they’d eat more than their allowed amount.

he used to keep the notebook on his desk, though he once lost it and had a panic attack due to its absence. he makes sure to keep it under his mattress now.

minjae was in his first relationship ( potential connection ? ) when he was in high school. it didn’t last long, and there wasn’t truly any love shared between them ( at least he didn’t love them ), but it was interesting ; a time for minjae to discover himself, and what their views regarding romance were. he gathered enough courage to come out to his parents as pansexual, though it furthered the rift between him and his father. his mother wasn’t as resentful, but she wasn’t incredibly accepting either. she was indifferent in the worst way ; it broke minjae’s heart. his sister, thankfully, continued to welcome him with open arms.

he and his parents moved to seoul when minjae was sixteen, and though he didn’t mind the change in scenery, he lost the majority of his friends with the distance ( they continued to skype, but it wasn’t the same ). his father began to work more, and through time, minjae’s mother began to warm up to her son ; she didn’t love him any less, she was just adjusting to new information. with the move, she noticed her child’s decline in mood, and as compensation she bought him a cat ( minjae’s sister also helped persuade her to ) which oddly enough, helped a lot ? he named the black cat lilly, and he holds her near and dear to his heart. she keeps him sane in his darker days, and she likes to sleep in his room, or sit on his lap whenever he’s working away at his desk. fun fact : his phone background’s a photo of him and her together !!

he applied to a local university for fashion design after completing high school and that’s the major he ended up graduating in !! he was lucky enough to land a job as an assistant designer for a relatively known fashion company, though the job’s stressful sometimes, and it makes him want to rip his hair out. also, when he’s experiencing art block he falls into depression. he hasn’t been diagnosed as he refuses to talk with a doctor ; in his mind, he’s too busy to see one ! he just takes his work very ( too ) seriously !

he moved out of his parents’ house when he was twenty-two, and currently lives with his roommate ( and cat ! ) in a studio apartment. his sister was upset to see him go, but she busies herself with school, as she’s currently majoring in business. she doesn’t know what she wants to do career wise though. she often comes around to visit minjae, too ! she practically lives with him half the time.

he once collapsed from overworking himself for a design when he was still just a newbie at his job ( he was twenty-three ). thankfully, it was while he was at home, though his roommate ( potential connection ? ) found him passed out on the floor and helped him into bed and made sure he was okay ; warm, fed, rested, etc. minjae was thankful, but the presence of food made him feel extremely uncomfortable. he didn’t eat for two days following that, as a form of punishment. subsequently, he didn’t tell his family of the fainting spell ; he couldn’t bear to burden his sister.

they were also recently diagnosed with rheumatoid arthiritis following a doctor’s visit after they noticed pain beginning in their hands. minjae had taken himself to the doctor’s, alone, and it was one of the most terrifying experiences of his life ( he has an aversion to anything medical related ; it brings him back to his childhood, where he’d visit hospitals frequently due to his hemophilia ). during flare ups, minjae finds it increasingly difficult to work ; sewing and other intricate practices become nearly impossible, and as he refuses to seek help from his peers, he tends to grow frustrated and lash out at unsuspecting others.

currently, he continues to have maladaptive coping methods ( they do still self-harm ), atop their nonexistent eating habits and extensive food log, which remains hidden under the new mattress in their room. .

PERSONALITY : 

he’s very quiet and insensitive, so if someone’s being annoying he’ll tell them, though deep, deep down he wants to be liked ; he just likes to sabotage himself a lot because he assumes he isn’t allowed to be happy. he’s scared of happiness ?

he also likes to paint his nails a lot ; he enjoys it and often paints them his favourite colour ( black ). it makes him feel more connected with himself ? it reminds him of when he used to play dress up ! though whenever he goes to see his family, he takes the nail polish off. his dad caught minjae with it on once, and he was not happy.

he’s also a huge fan of indie bands, the music relaxes him. if anyone close to him asks for music recs, he’ll go on for days about them, or anything else he likes for that matter !

[shalnarkonice]

A gift for @geeky-afakasi with help from @beamthechao who inspired this fantastic chinera ant au💖💖

The sound of designer heels, an expensive pair that was most likely studded in rivers of diamonds and hugged by velvet and gold, clicks against the marble floors. It was amazing how a sound so mundane, so everyday, could be the cause of such chaos in a professional, well known, multi million dollar company.

Now it wasn’t rare to hear a pair of heels bang against smooth tile (seeing how most of the women and few men preferred the footwear), but it was sharp tack tack tack, followed by the smell of roses that alerted most of the employees that the queen had made her appearance.

The Queen, better known as the CEO of chimera communications and technology, rarely visited head office. The queen was a figure head. An older woman with warm brown skin and large oval eyes, her locks lay hidden by a dark red hijab that covered silver hair which would give away her age. She was someone who made her way across the world with her hand picked team, cutting deals, and sometimes cutting throats when it came to hard business (all for a good cause, however).

There was no one in the world who could rival the empire she has built after the death of her late spouse, a cruel man who had given her nothing more than the one son who shared his facial characteristics, and had instantly become the woman’s pride and joy.

Being a single mother running a huge corporation had not been easy, but her employees were treated like family and as the company grew so did the bond between them

To the Queen’s right was Colt, walking in pace but always a step behind. He was one of the first men to be hired to work for the chimeras, his fierce ambition and sense of loyalty making him one of three executives in the entire company. With dark hair and sharp eyes, he always dressed professionally, his suit bearing tiny wings on the cufflinks as his one name brand element. He had coined the line himself, but always kept the chimera business dear to his heart, even as he travelled overseas with the queen to meet with other potential companies that they could overtake.

“There are exactly fifty four hours and twenty seven minutes before our plane to yorknew is due to leave.” Colt says with a firmness that would be appalling to most, but to the queen, it was a tone bearing utmost respect. “Once we land from our detour in NGL we will be greeted by the head of the Zodiac corporation. Netero will be providing our rooms and dinner reservations, as per agreement.”

“Make a note of it to have my things sent over from NGL to yorknew via private blimp.” She says swiftly, eyes running over the doors of offices where employees had pressed their faces against the glass in hopes of getting a view of the woman who had started it all.

“I will make a note of it and send the message directly later today.” Colt hums, his leather briefcase brushing against his thigh before someone darted into the hallway from seemingly nowhere, their blond hair flowing around them before being followed by a long silky black scarf and a whirlwind of glitter.

Glancing back at Pouf, the head of the financial division and the backbone of this locations funds (as well as a full time stick in the mud), Colt wasn’t surprised to see the man flustered. Colt had spent many months training with the blond, sometimes their ideas conflicting, until the rare moment where they made a earth shaking breakthrough together. When the queen had asked who would join her overseas, and who would manage head office (because it was only Pouf and Colt who she felt confident in placing this responsibility on), Pouf had been the one to lose the opportunity to be at her side, and was left behind.

Later Colt had learned Pouf had given up the chance so Colt could take it.

Although Colt didn’t exactly get along with the man, they had learned to accept and trust the other, but it amused Colt greatly at how flustered Pouf always seemed to be.

Pouf, with a clipboard and pen in hand, could not fathom the possibility of having overlooked this moment. Having Colt walk in suddenly would have been nothing to fret over. All Pouf needed to do was show some case files of their work stats and offer the man some black tea. But seeing the queen was often a blessing and a curse, as any employer would be.

Hearing chatter break out in the hallways they passed, Pouf could only hope to smother this tension over and lead the guests to his own office as he informed the buildings head of the affairs taking place.

“Madam president, your arrival is earlier than noted. I didn’t have time to prepare the paperwork or speak to the other department heads or even-” Pouf is cut off as the woman smiles at him.

“What did I say about you calling me madam president? I may be in my fifties but I’m not that old. Please, feel free to call me something less formal. Mother perhaps?” She chuckles as Pouf latches to her side, following her through the main lobby, “now, what are the numbers for this quadrant?” she asks, her tone shifting to one more appropriate for business.

“Twelve percent with an estimated point three gross over the next four months.” Pouf says proudly, his sharp eyes darting around the room in a panic, knowing what kind of insolent staff the building had and how lenient this divisions boss was. He wasn’t sure (or more like, he was very sure how afraid he was) of how the queen was going to react.

“And how is the department running, Pouf?” he jumps the the question he automatically dreaded, “has everything been going smoothly?” the woman prompts.

“Of course!” Pouf blurts out, lying being his first thought, “business is booming and the clients are all happy!”

“Fantastic, and what of the staff?”

Pouf winces a moment and shivers when Colts eyes focus on him, before glancing down at the butterfly wing charm on poufs collar, a product from Colts “wing” line.

“Absolutely amazing. The security is talented and have stopped all issues before they have time to unfold, especially from outside sources. Our scientists are busily working away on new creative, and very, very safe products for our consumers to buy into for the purpose of better communications. Our HR lead is one of the most positive and uplifting, provide amazing customer service and helping our staff with their personal qualms. Our head receptionist holds this family together, always working hard to keep everything in order. Ah, and the sales staff we have are not only respectful, but positively professional. We have three experts for our Public relations team who focus directly on branding our image with the goal of not only creating public events but also placing an emphasis on community. Our building manager is very active in taking care of any safety issues, as well as tending to the many plants we have in place to make a more positive environment. Our financial lead is like a caring father, who also manages to keep all the books updated weekly with our numbers. And of course, the department head and future CEO of the company has been the best, most supportive of leaders. We have no complaints about his ability.”

The Queen pauses and turns places a hand on Poufs arm, smiling in that ever so sweet way she did, reassuring him that his words were taken for face value and that she did not, even for a second, doubt him. It was that look that gave pouf severe guilt, because he knew. oh hell did he know that every word was just as far from the truth as it could be.

“With a staff like this im sure all has been going well,” she says firmly, turning around and continuing deeper into the building towards the cubicles in the open work space.

D A N G E R. The word flashes through Poufs mind, and Colt picks up on the sudden tension.

In seconds a large man with a suit as dark as his hair approaches, a finger to his ear as he starts speaking, his name tag reading Youpi, along with chief of security.

“Take the suspect to the west wing for investigation under clause 330 B, subsection c for trespassing.” Youpi says into his ear piece, before looking to Pouf who was trying yo subtly tell him to shut up. “It appears that NGL representatives have been protesting our use of technology again and this is the third break in this week at ground level. Bloster has apprehended the men and is now-”

“This is a situation we can easily deal with!” Pouf grimaces as he speaks as the queen continues to walk, listening to Youpi give his report as they enter what could only be a mess hall.

Passing the front desk for HR, sitting with his feet up talking away was Welfin, a tall, slender man with sharp eyes who had on a headset. Pouf could only hope the man was being civil.

“You think that’s a problem? Hell, you dont even know what a real trauma is. Seeing someone fight isn’t worthy of a sick leave, the hell.” Welfin barks up, leaning back in his chair, “you should see what I have to deal with here. One word, Zazan! I should be getting a four day weekend for putting up with her shit! Oh hell, Pouf!” Welfin hangs up and tosses the headset aside as he stands, following the group, not sure who the woman or the stiff were, but not caring in the slightest. “So that vacation I asked for, ya know the time off for next week, seeing how I’ve dealt with-”

Pouf feels his eyes roll back into his head as he resists grabbing Welfin and choking the man, all while youpi is still rambling about broken codes.

“I assure you we have the best staff,” Pouf raises his voice, gawking as Leol, Flutter, and Hina appear with huge posters and rave lights. Leol, tall and bulky in a band t-shirt, raises a hand at Pouf. Flutter, with his head of wiry hair, glances over Hina’s head, the petite woman jumping up excitably as the three rush over. Leol, as head of marketing, would often place up ads on buildings while Flutter would focus on anything skyward like blimps and billboards, while Hina dealt with television and radio ads.

“Pouf, bud!” Leol grins, the three joining the group, “we got everything we need for the sponsor party. Even sick music by Morel the euro god-”

“Great snacks and lots of booze!” Hina chimes in while raising a bottle of champagne as well as a few glow sticks.

“The entertainment will be showing up in a few hours,” Flutter buzzes, “we brought in quality chefs as well. The zodiacs have received their invites.

Trying to catch his breath, Pouf begs for it to stop. “We do not hold parties. We are professionals!”

“We decided to hire the dancers too,” Leol continues.

“I’m thinking two weeks is a little short, and I’ve been feeling under the weather so maybe three would suffice,” Welfin strokes his chin

“There has also been twelve incidents regarding broken office supplies that we are still in the process of replacing after last years incident,” Youpi rambles.

The group come across the secretary’s desk near the back of the large room, where the curly haired Zazan sits painting her nails, looking annoyed as a smirking, energetic man talks at her.

Spotting Pouf, Zazan grabs her nail filer and points it at him, “I do not get paid enough to deal with cheetu so you better get him the hell out of my face or so help me I’ll file for harassment!” she snarls, joining the group and listing everything Cheetu had done to annoy her.

“Our secretary is a loving, and respectable human being.” Pouf grits out, feeling Colts eyes bore into his back.

Cheetu, with zeal, heads to the front of the group, walking backwards with a grin as he waves for Poufs attention. The blond pales and his nails dig into his clipboard, his head shaking as in no, Cheetu, shut your damn mouth.

“Okay great! Listen up to my new pitch!” Cheetu clears his throat, his salesperson representative self coming out, “Tired? Tired of technology running slow? Don’t you wish you could talk faster? Don’t you wish you could talk so fast that you would be abletotalktoeveryoneallthe-” Cheetus rambling becomes too quick and excited to understand and pouf is dying.

The queen makes it into the science sector and slowly Pouf whispers oh no as the sound of an explosion occurs, before a slight smoke makes its way out of the door. No one is phased as a woman with white curly hair throws herself out of the room her white medical lab coat a little singed.

“That was a rush hell yea!” she coughs and notices the group, and leaps at pouf, “the new coolant adhesive is almost done! We’re making it less flammable but hell does it have a kick! It’s amazing! I’ve never seen subject 2I9H 3000 react so fiverantly, there have only been four explosions this week!”

Youpi taps his earpiece, “Pitou again. Send men to clean up. Extinguishers needed.”

“The vacation will help me relax and be a better HR lead! Come on, Pouf!”

“These explosions are horrible for my headaches, especially when dealing with idiots!” Zazan whines

“Ya know if the budget was increased we could totally bring in a sick bartender, like the phantom troupe are an A-class party must have, right Flutter?”

“Talk all the time with chimera communications! never stop! Never stop talking just keep taking always-”

“Ya know, with this experiment almost done, if i reversed the polarity I could probably make the adhesive into a bomb-”

“Dont!” Pouf yells over the chatter, “absolutely do not! Remove the thought from your mind!”

Pitou sulks as a new voice enters the fray, a short, bulky man with wise eyes and a beak nose. In his hands were slips of gray paper, and on his chest was a name tag reading Peggy, finance. Around his neck was a lanyard that held every nerdy button the man could get his hands on. Some like “checkmate for the king,” or “like a good friend chimera com is there,” and “edgar allen poe before hoes.”

“I’m glad you’re all here, because it’s pay day!” Peggy grunts out, and cheers amble around as the man hands out slips, watching them get tucked into pockets and shirts, or ripped open fiercely. “Now for this next trimester we need to cut back on some staff funds, and unfortunately that’s the amount of coffee we are buying each week.”

Zazan gawks as she stares at the man, “you monster!”

“Peggy are you insane? We all practically live off coffee,” Welfin shoves past Leol and Flutter, grabbing onto Peggy in disgust. “If I’m not able to make a coffee every two hours, I’ll die. Straight up. I might as well go on sick leave because I won’t be able to function.”

Cheetu nods his head vigorously, “how do you think i get to be the way I am? You think I’m always energetic! Nah! we need our espressos!”

Youpi side eyes the man and mutters under his breath, “he shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near caffeine”

“You’re not the boss of me!” Cheetu yelps, puffing out his chest.

Pouf steps between them and lifts the clipboard in front of cheetus face, “under a general consensus you will be provided only with decaf and you will accept it without complaint! We don’t need anymore incidents like last year-” Pouf gawks as the words slip out

Colt narrows his eyes as he places a hand on Poufs shoulder, “please elaborate.”

A collective breath moves through the group, almost as if there was the presence of a monster amongst them. Pouf could only cower, hoping someone else would step in so he wouldn’t have to.

“Rammot,” Zazan swirls the name in her mouth and grimaces, “that was the worst month, thank god he gone.”

“He was a menace,” Youpi murmurs, “theft, blackmail, slander, assault…”

“And a rude, ugly man to boot.” Hina murmurs, shaking a glow stick vigorously. “And the things he would wear around the office should have been enough of a crime to get him arrested!”

Leol rubs his chin, “I heard he went to jail for killing a man.”

Cheetu nods, “That doesn’t surprise me! What a creep! He punched me once!”

“He spit in my coffee,” Welfin bares his teeth.

Pitou cracks a knuckle, “I was tempted to kill him one time. Try experiment 541 on him.”

The Queen blinks back her surprise as a yell breaks the chatter of the group from the other side of the hall. A balky man with pierced eyebrows and long hair runs towards the group, almost at a gallop. Some could say that the man was horse like in his demeanor; although he lacked any grace and came off as a beast (who was into some questionable kinks, the other employees had unfortunately come to learn). Zazan and Cheetu grimace and step against the walls, knowing that the man with the snake tongue, Yunju, was bound to make a messy entrance.

In his hands he carried a large box, his two assistants (both thin and lean, sticking to Yunju as if they were mosquitoes) carried their own boxes.

Now Pouf wasn’t sure what Yunju did. He was…usually just there, with his vulgar mouth and that damn split tongue, which was pierced seeing how it made a clink as it touched his teeth as he spoke.

Part of Pouf wanted to say that Yunju had been hired to be a health rep, although it seemed like hell of a mistake on their hiring department if they did that. Perhaps Yunju was the hiring department. What a nightmare.

“Nyaa, the chief of privacy,” Pitou whines, looking at Youpi, who technically was the chief of security but never used the title, meaning he and Yunji should have been partners at least. It never happened.

Pouf pales, shocked that he had forgotten that this monster of a man was responsible for all their personal issues and privacy, especially from having their identities safe from being revealed online. Anti technology protesters had been getting more violent with each year

“Got the stuff!” Yunju smirks, spotting Colt, a new face in the crowd, “and a catch.”

Colt gives him a piercing glare, not interested in the man’s advances. Leol and Hina hoot and holler as they leap towards the box, only to have Youpi intervene.

Only now did it come to everyone’s realization that they had been chatting and yelling in front of a large oak door, the only in a long hallway. No one could remember when the tile floors had become carpet, or when the lights had become tinted red, or that it was silent in this sector. Candles and roses sit on their perches, and a glass wall sits opposite to the door, delicate but deadly looking fish filling the space.

Standing on a stool, with their back turned to the crowd, is Kite. Short, lanky, silent at most times, quietly feed the fish. Feeling eyes on their back; they which was covered in long white hair which he occasionally dyed red, he peers over to the crowd.

Despite taking up the role of gardener, and in charge of health and safety, kite was also the third executive of the company.

“Mother,” Kite says lowly, stepping down from the stool. Pouf had almost forgotten Kite was the Queens adopted child.

Behind the large oak doors would be the future CEO of the company, the lead of the entire building. A man who was young, yet notable in his early 20s. He had been a child genius, and eager to learn all from his many tutors. The future ceo was a terrifying and gifted man.

As the doors were thrown open, everyone in the hallway held their breath as Meruem appeared, silent, somber, his dark hair covering his forehead, his eyes looking sharp with pointed eyeliner and his purple contacts.

“What is the meaning of this noise?” Meruem asks, voice soft and yet almost sultry

Pouf hesitates and tries to work up the courage to offer an explanation, a reason, something to ease the heavy, smoggy tension.

“We….They…The Queen-” Pouf almost curses himself as tears spring to his eyes. How could he explain the motive behind the horrible staff. Everyone had left their posts! All they did was argue! Or fight! Or try to blow things up! Godawful, good for nothing trouble makers! Everyone here, and the queen had watched it all.

Meruem shifts his glance to the queen instead, slightly shocked.”Mother, Pouf did not inform me of your attendance.”

Pouf pales at the mention of his name, positive he was going to lose his damn job.

“I am sure you know why I came,” the woman says lowly, stepping forward to tower over the short man. “To see how you have run my company. To see your employees and their capabilities. To see if you are willing to inherit the CEO title when you turn 25…and to wish you a happy twenty third birthday.” she smiles, breaking from her facade.

Party poppers explode and balloons escape from the box Yunju was carrying. Ikalgo and Melodeon, two delivery boys, ran in with champagne, and cheering radiated through the hallway. Pouf, very quickly realized, this whole thing has been a set up.

“Lighten up pouf! It was fun wasn’t it!” Pitou hoots as glasses are passed around as a cake is brought into meruems office.

“Happy birthday!” is yelled out, and meruem feels his face flush as he beams at the gesture.

To be so loved by his family and company was a true blessing, Meruem realized, lost in a sea of voices. Despite being thankful, meruem knew that one day he would have that special someone here with him, to meet his mother and coworkers. But for now, Meruem would enjoy the impromptu party.

And pouf? Pouf would be fine

Well, after he stopped crying tears of relief that is

[paranoiakrp]

         CITIZEN FILE RETRIEVED: LEE MARISOL ...

STATS

name / lee marisol d.o.b. / 06.21.94 age / 25 pronouns / she/her job / projectionist at a theater societies / necronomicon groups / n/a

WHATS YOUR WEIRD?

finding the necronomicon is like a promise from the cosmos that the world can be better. she’s been a burden, a tempest in a teapot, since the day she was born. there has always been too much inside her to contain, lashing out in fits and starts. emotions that burst electric and crackling from her unbidden, the vacillation of fierce pride and utter self loathing. like a wind chime in a storm she shakes and sings, a furious clang and clatter more discordant often then sonorous. 

the book becomes her conduit. she pours over the pages that teach her ancient runes and long lost symbols, a language relegated to the depths of time. the witches’ alphabet, theban script, the inscriptions of lines and angles and circles that channel that overpowering and overwhelming will of hers into something useful, a focused stream of ability and desire. 

becoming a witch is based in will and want and marisol has been overflowing with desperation and desire for as long as she can remember, and it becomes a promise of something greater on the horizon. her stomach turns the first time she slides a knife over her palm to give of herself for this magic. the charcoal that often etches over the woven length of canvas now graces the wood flooring of her room, inscribing circles and runes, a deft and delicate hand intent not to smudge or obscure the lines lest the incantations run awry, the effects dimming. 

she takes, and takes, spends days in bed or bandaging her hands as she trades of herself for good fortune, for favor, for financial security. she secures for herself the things she thinks she deserves. she delves deep into the arts of summoning, never attempting but always tempted, the promise of the otherworldly too enticing, piquing a desperate curiosity. who could she help with this, and who could she hurt? 

WHATS YOUR STORY?

the first thing her mother gives her is a burden. 

a name to bear like a cross. 

marisol, marisol. 

a strange name for a strange girl, stumbling in too many syllables to trip up a tongue. it’s heavy. it bears the weight of her mother’s expectations and of her indifference. 

marisol is an infant and unassuming, unimportant. round cheeks and a squalling, healthy cry and a mother who is happy to begin smoking again, to return to the bottle, to lose the baby weight. she will always bring that up, she will always tell marisol - as she strokes waving, tousled hair, as she bandages her knees and elbows, smothers her in sunscreen, as she makes halfhearted bibimbap from leftovers - you ruined me, little girl, she’ll say to her. singsong. musical. she smells of whiskey and cigarettes and musky perfume. 

the wallpaper is peeling. just a little bit in the corners, where few would notice, but marisol does. marisol sees the tarnish on her mother’s jewelry and the threadbare bottoms of her socks. marisol is hawk eyed attention to detail. picking out weaknesses in the facade of a woman who paints herself as someone bigger than the world. 

she watches her mother as one might a performer. 

lee minyoung has a damningly average name and disposition and intellect and beauty. in all respects she is exceedingly, incredibly typical but for one desperate need, an overpowering urge to be beloved. she desires power and adoration and builds herself, to the best of her ability, into the image of that. soft silks and glasses of champagne, expensive bags purchased with maxed out credit cards, a score that begins to drop. layers of makeup painting heavy over flaws both imagined and existant. 

marisol is born a burden and a stain, a tarnish on her reputation. the divorce follows swiftly after her birth, a man who becomes a child support check sent from busan every so often, a check that lines her mother’s pockets with borrowed finery, while marisol listens to her mother twitter and laugh on the phone, in the hall, in the living room. 

lee minyoung has a reputation around town. little tweaks and fixes here and there have earned her a greater beauty than she once boasted, and there are plenty who are happy to buy into her delusions of presented grandeur, her falsity of regality and noblesse. lee minyoung sweeps around the room as if on a film set, black and white film reels of leading ladies inspiring the grace and poise of each gesture and movement. affected and fictitious but in a small town like this no one bothers to look too deep. they’re happy to coo about her lost love and how cruel it was of him to leave her, how unfair it was for him to take her youth and leave her with a child to raise alone. 

and lee minyoung uses that sympathy to work her way upwards. it’s a slow and steady move, with many heights and hollows, peaks and valleys, and marisol learns to focus on other things. to take the gifts when they come in an attempt to curry favor with her mother ( as if her mother were to care a bit for her opinion )  and to turn a blind eye when things fade. she learns that her mother will always define herself by the power of others and she learns to believe it pathetic, affected hubris that churns her stomach. 

her mother is a tyrant in her life, a figure that whispers in her ear so sweetly, oh marisol, you ought to watch your weight. oh marisol, darling, shouldn’t you do a bit better? oh marisol, you stupid little thing, shouldn’t you know better than that? marisol, don’t you see how hard you’re making things for me, your poor dear mother? marisol, can’t you be a good girl, a kind girl, can’t you be my dear little sunflower and listen nicely, sweetly, shine brightly? 

marisol learns to hate the sound of her own name. marisol learns to hate her mother, a revulsion for the pathetic creature that she is, so pitiably dependent on the world around her for validation. she stomps through the greenery of the forests and rolls across the cobbled hills with the clack of skateboard wheels, wind in tangled hair and the sun painting red across her cheeks, freckles blooming in place that her mother advises her to have removed - laser treatments aren’t nearly so expensive these days. 

she’s twelve when she meets him. with wide haunted eyes and a family shrouded in mystery, in a real wealth. he can be like your brother, her mother cooes at her,  and mari answers with a scowl and fingers pushed back through her hair, squinted eyes skeptical on the boy. she doesn’t want to play this game again. the game of pretending she thinks this is some kind of misguided playdate. pretending that this is simply her mother’s new work friend. that her mother hadn’t taken on this stenographer position in the hopes of working her way up the ladder like this. besides, it’s better than the ones that look at her funny and the anger in her mother’s eyes now, as she grows up. like there’s an unspoken contest marisol was never made aware of, never asked to enter. his father is an overbearing man, powerful and full in the knowledge of that, proud and suffocating. she begins to choke beneath the weight of them, smoke in her lungs. 

marisol learns to find comfort in her own strength. spits venomous barbs at those that call her a bastard child, bruises her knuckles against the jawbone of the boy who calls her mother a whore, screeches and grapples like a wild, rabid thing when the girls corner her to mock her. it goes against the proper and the expected. she smokes until her lungs burn black and acrid, drains the screaming in her chest with alcohol stolen from corner marts. scowls in the back of the living room when the local police officer hauls her home with a warning and lectures her mother, who turns the favor on her. 

her mother would love to say that with age comes a softening of sensibilities but this is in point of fact untrue. with age comes fire and fury, with age comes a mercurial energy that likens her to a wildfire or a sandstorm. she is a scourge, consuming, a frenzy of self loathing and second guessing. she is the smell of smoke and evergreens and honey mint tea. 

she is a creature born of secrets and burden and she grows to find currency in that. to fit together the puzzle pieces around her, to delve deeper into the secrets of a strangeness she has always taken for granted. obsessive she dreams of a greater power and capability. her ferverish passions illuminate themselves in charcoal stained fingers, in smudged pastels. she paints herself as much as she does her canvases, leaves the mark of it in her wake. books fill with scribbled words and sketchpads pile up. she has never been a stranger to expression, this girl who breathes emotions like fire from the mouth of a dragon. she loves ferociously and needs desperately and does this with an intensity that may perhaps astonish. as if the suppressed and cold machinations of her mother must have created a girl who can do nothing but feel and express with the most honest and unflinching expression. 

when fire and fate steal from her the closest of her friends, she sends herself away to a nearby city, to a modestly sized university. for three years she wastes her life pursuing a degree that in the end means less than the paper it’s printed on, she presumes. she crafts herself into something more, and by the time she returns to junae she’s got an apartment leased, the key money painstakingly hoarded. it’s small but it’s hers, and in direct reaction to her mother’s overbearing and crowded decor it is a stark and clean minimalism to be found there. soft fabrics and sharp edges in equal measure. an easel in the corner and a tarp beneath it, a scattering of books on shelves, a two monitor rig on the desk that doesn’t quite fit in the room, but she cobbles together her scraps of wealth in freelance work, graphic design and writing, proofreading and transcribing. whatever she can get her hands on. she wastes  away on endless shifts running the old school projectors at the art house theater in the town’s center, a relic of a lost time. 

she waits and she seethes and she burns, and one day, one day she finds something. 

it’s in the library. she is a frequent visitor of dusty tomes and quiet halls, and there is a moment she stands transfixed, fingers on the papery, thin spine of the book. the words inside are a mangled and garbled expression at first, notes in the margins and overwrought detailing, exquisite coloring and intricate detail. it tells of casting bones, of blood magicks, of secret runes that promise untold power, whisper of fulfilled desires. and she is a greedy thing, this hellion girl, and she falls too eagerly into the waiting trap, jumps into the maw of the beast. 

she takes to witchcraft like a fish to water. that overwhelming will in her finds a conduit in this and she bestows upon herself power her mother could only ever have dreamed of. it is little things at first, small steps forward, and more later. but her greed grows as great as her mother’s ever was, and more, and she drowns herself in the possibilities of it, wades deep and deeper until she is in full over her head. 

[davidegbert]

Moto Z2 Force hands-on: a light and agile specialist smartphone

For a time after Google’s sale, there was a sense of “normal” within Lenovo’s Motorola. Okay, maybe that analogy ended up the wrong way for many in Chicago.

That sense also trickled down to its smartphones, too. Some plain ‘ol plain ‘ol. A middle road between a valley and a mountain. When you think back to the 2015 Moto X releases, the second set under Lenovo’s reign, you had Style or Pure Edition, you had Force and you also had Play.

The same for the Moto Z — Force, Play and salt and pepper. It was able to get back on the map in a limited sense, thanks to a lot of positive consumer sentiment on Moto Mods — they were the primary motivator for anywhere between 80 percent and 95 percent customers in a brand perception survey. But the bulk of buyers were Verizon customers. They are a strong pool, but thanks to an exclusivity clause, the phone couldn’t pick up much of a draft in the US unlocked market. The Moto Z2 Play may be relegated to a similar fate.

In 2017, Motorola is effectively counting on one phone (and several modular accessories) to help it regain its prestige in the US market. That phone is the Moto Z2 Force.

Okay, so we should probably begin with a literal hands-on, right? Well, the 7000-series aluminium unibody might lend a sense of premium build quality, but the darn thing is super-light for its mass at 143 grams. This is not an iPhone 7 with a 4.7-inch screen at 138 grams. We’re talking about a 5.5-inch quad HD display. And this thing has a Snapdragon 835 in it, too (all the specs you need are in this post). What we’re saying is that this is one hefty muscle phone in a svelte bar.

Personal note: in my rush to film all the video coverage we need with my colleagues Adam Doud and Adam Z. Lein, I was running around like a maniac with the phone in hand. It felt like a fin through the sea, but part of it was because it was actually thin at 6.1mm. I can’t definitively say I love or hate it, though. It’s just there. Akin to its rather plain looks, it’s like a canvas waiting to be covered.

Even with any Style Cover connected magnetically to the back through those pins at the bottom, those things don’t really add so much weight. That connection is secure enough to keep things attached until you intentionally want to peel off a Mod and perhaps slap on another in just seconds. One thing you can’t accuse the Moto Z2 Force of is being unwieldy. It can be as large as you can bear, though. Check it out with a Moto 360 Camera Mod on. By the way, we’ll get to those Mods in a minute.

If you’re a fan of the headphone jack, the good and bad news is that you have 3.5mm adapter to USB-C for that. That display? It’s of the super-versatile AMOLED variety and we were able to see it get adequately bright, we have initial doubts on lower brightness output. The power and volume control buttons are little nibs that might confuse you just a bit as they’re all the same size. Less confusing is the fingerprint sensor below the display, set in from the rest of the surface. It’s touted to make positive scans within 750 milliseconds — a tad slower than sensors on other recent phones.

We move back up to the display to cover another claim from Moto: the shatter-proof Shatter Shield display. It debuted on Verizon’s DROID Turbo 2 as a five-layer stack of polyurethane that took a little effort to scratch, but could not shatter as it was not brittle glass. The phone itself might get bricked by your clumsiness before the screen tears. And throughout the duration of the event, the trio of Moto Z2 Force devices at the drop demo station toughed out dust bite after dust bite like champs. It’s needed assurance for the ambiguity we feel about the build, not that it’s at all incompetent.

The software department, if you know Moto the way we do, is fairly clean on the design and bloatware front. But the OEM is a sucker for added features and they’ve been a boon to us all this time. Take the chop-chop gesture to turn the flashlight feature on and off or the double-twist to get to the camera, stat. One-button navigation through the fingerprint sensor is back from the original Moto Z: swipe left for “back,”down for multitasking, press for “home” and hold to lock the device. This mode of movement seems best fit for when you’ve laid your phone down on a desk, but we’d quicker use a traditional navigation bar.

The dual 12-megapixel cameras work in tandem to provide color and monochrome data for hybrid images — much like how a modern flagship from Huawei manages its dual sensors with Leica-enhanced software. The usual trick of software-induced bokeh is included and there was also some boasting about low-light macro performance. A cursory play with this camera wouldn’t do it justice, so look out for our Real Camera Review soon.

As if the phone wasn’t eclectic enough, we got to play with two new Moto Mods at the launch event in New York: one basically transforms the phone into a Nintendo Switch-like, the other brings 360-degree video recording to the device.

The broad and expansive Gamepad swaddles the Moto Z2 Force with its flanks of axial joysticks (not the resistive gliding kind of vogue) and shoulder buttons… well, they’re more like pads and we’re not exactly hot on them. The left side features a D-pad and the right side has an ABXY pebble button array. It’s a comfortable pad that’s nice for getting through transit or long periods of boredom and the ergonomics aren’t too bad. There’s also no issues with Bluetooth since all the data needed goes through those pin connectors at the back, so reliability should be way closer to 100 percent here. There’s a supplementary battery within that pad — and the phone needs it, too, with its minimal 2,730mAh cell built-in.

The Moto 360 Camera Mod sticks a couple of cameras on top of the phone and brings 360-degree capture in 4K to users. Four highly directional microphones on the phone add to the experience with 3D Sound recording, too. Complementary software lets users crop in for 2D images and add visual effects to whatever they shoot. It also lets content makers take advantage of 360-degree livestreaming. We noticed that framerate is generally on the lower side with a few drops, but we’ll hold full judgment before a final review and software updates.

Only the camera Mod is available for pre-order at the moment, by the way, and at a steep $299.99, too.

And that might be the thought that kills the chance of a person buying the Moto Z2 Force. Pre-orders are available today from $720.

Yes, multi-year financing is available from AT&T, Sprint, T-Mobile, US Cellular and Verizon. Sprint, by the way, has a two-for-one leasing deal going on right now. And yet some will take that price up higher. That same Sprint network? It prices the phone at $792 or $33 per month over two years. Verizon takes it up to $810 or $35 at its monthly EIP rate.

If people perceive that it’s an expensive phone that needs some expensive toys they might use once and never use again, we may not have a deal, here. Obviously, Motorola is interested in getting passengers on the boat and is offering a free InstaProjector Mod, but all those bulky mods still take up space — by sheer necessity, the mods cover the entirety of the phone’s surface with some going even further than that. Translate that to a backpack or purse and they’re competing with clothes, makeup and other electronics, even.

Lenovo has its work cut out for it. We do, too. Pocketnow has full coverage in the coming days and weeks with a full review, comparisons and more. Stay tuned.

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