#stares at the huge wave that is another project incoming

[enbyjane]

To whoever is interested....I might write a Pirates of the Caribbean × The Mentalist AU.....and make Angela Ruskin be Jack Sparrow and have her one of the main characters....

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part IX

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Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 14.3k

Warnings: timeskip, mutual pining, author doesn’t know shit about science subject matter, explicit sexual content, ass play, snowballing, tooth rotting fluff A/N: This is it, y’all. This last part was so much fun to write, I can’t even put it into words. The feedback on this has been incredible, so a big thank you for that, and before anyone asks, I have a handful of spinoff oneshots planned for this series. Enjoy~

- NINE YEARS -

“Hey, don’t forget about the meeting at three.”

 Mike glances up from his computer to find Henning leaning through his office doorway. It’s the first time Mike has looked away from the screen in at least an hour, and he blinks at his colleague several times in an attempt to get rid of the gritty feeling in his eyes.

 “Yeah, thanks,” he nods, rubbing a hand down his face. “Definitely would’ve forgotten about that one.”

 Henning leaves with one rap of his knuckles against the doorframe, and Mike checks his phone to see how much time he has before he has to make his way to the conference room. It’s twenty after two, so he spends a little while longer reading over the journal that had been sent to him, only tearing himself away when his alarm goes off at 2:55. 

 He waves at a few people as he passes, shows the reserved smile he’d mastered upon entering the corporate world, then walks into the large meeting space and sets his little notepad on the mahogany table as he sits down in a plush rolling chair. 

 This meeting has been planned for a few weeks now, a team of researchers contracted by the government to study Lake Sina and everything wrong with it. Its water quality is at an all time low, and it's up to Mike and his team to figure out a way to change that so it can be purified enough to distribute to the public. There are a few large cities close to the lake, all of lower income and all struggling with their water systems. If Sina can get clean enough, it would solve a huge crisis that most people don't even know is taking place. 

 Tomas, Henning, Lynne, and Nanaba are already in the room, and after a few minutes, another group of four walks in, all unfamiliar except…

 Mike’s eyebrows knit together as he stares. He can only see a profile from where he’s sitting, but it’s one he recognizes. The time he spent admiring it, mentally sketching every feature—of course he’d recognize it. Recognize you.

 There is a pounding in his chest that Mike hasn’t felt in years, and his palms are suddenly damp. The collar of his shirt is too tight around his throat, and he reaches up to undo the top two buttons so that he can fucking breathe, but Jesus Christ, he can’t believe it. It feels like a lifetime has passed since he last saw you. 

 He wonders if you’ll have the same reaction when you finally notice him, if you’ll gawk at him or grin or run away. He wouldn’t blame you if you tucked tail. That last conversation—if it could even be called that—is not one of Mike’s fondest memories, and he can’t imagine the toll it took on you, what you must have felt going into your final year of undergrad. 

 “Is there a remote for the projector?” You call out to the table, and your voice sounds exactly the fucking same. It makes Mike want to slam his head into the wood, but before he can, you zero in on him. 

 He watches as your eyes grow, jaw setting, shoulders rising with a deep breath, and oh, you’re panicking. You’re panicking just like he is.

 “Um,” you cough and shake your head, then lean over to speak to one of your people before basically jogging from the room.

 No one seems to think anything of it. Mike has to white-knuckle the arms of his chair to keep himself from getting up and following. There's no reason he should follow, though. The two of you haven’t spoken in almost a decade. He has nothing to share with you, no reason to talk to you on a non-professional level. You don’t know each other anymore, and that’s fine. It’ll be fine. 

 A mousy looking man starts passing out little binders to everyone at the table, then introduces himself as Moblit and the other two in the room as Hange and Abel. 

 "And, the other girl you saw is—"

 "I'm back, I'm here," you announce as you step into the room, closing the door behind you and introducing yourself with a wave. "Did we get the projector working?" 

 "Yes," Abel answers, passing you the remote that Nanaba had procured a few minutes ago. 

 Hange plugs a cable into a laptop and the white screen is lit up with the image of the well known lake, once beautiful, deep blue but now a murky brown. 

 Mike has been preparing for this project for a few months now, going to an off-site lab to look over the samples being sent in or dropped off. He knew there was a research team studying the lake, but… what are the odds that you would be part of that team? 

 He supposes your jobs could overlap just like your classes used to, but you had told him you wanted to go into natural hazards ("You're a natural hazard," he had replied with a snort). Of course, that had been a long time ago, but how had that dream morphed into hydrology? 

 Before the presentation starts, Mike's boss, Keith Shadis slips through the door and takes his seat at the end of the table. You're quick to grab one of the binders and walk it over to him, flashing a smile and never letting your gaze flit to Mike. 

 Hange does most of the talking, going over all of your findings while all of you "braved the wilderness". Moblit and Abel insert a few things here and there, and then Hange clicks to a slide with a graph on it and hands the remote to you. 

 "If you turn to page seventeen in the binders, you can probably get a better look, but this shows how much the level of pollution in Lake Sina has risen in the last year alone. We took samples over…"

 You keep talking, but Mike loses his focus, watching your hands move as you speak, the way you're rocking back on your heels, and how you look anywhere but at him. 

 Even though there's a tiny tremble in your voice, you sound passionate, and why wouldn't you be? Mike is passionate too. About the same god damn thing. 

 With a PhD in environmental science, his specialty is pollutants. It's something he's been interested in since grad school because the earth is beautiful but in an awful state, and Mike wants to fucking change that. He's written journals and articles, worked with leading experts, and it's what he's decided to dedicate himself to, so why is it that this life that he's built for himself is suddenly intermingling with yours? How—

 A hand comes to rest on Mike's and he startles at the touch, jerking his head upward to see Lynne with raised eyebrows. 

 "Mike, I get why you're lost in the pollution sauce, but if you click that pen one more time, I will throw you out of this high-rise."

 He stares at her for a second before chuckling and tossing his pen onto his blank notebook. He hadn't even realized he'd been doing it. It's a little embarrassing, actually. How many people noticed? Did you? 

 The presentation ends with Hange telling everyone that they're happy to be teaming up with the Corporation to work toward a solution and a plan to clean Lake Sina and possibly implement it into larger bodies of water.

 The planning stage of the project will more than likely last for a few months, meaning you'll all be regulars in the office which Mike isn't especially thrilled about, even if you will be sequestered in a little annex and spending a lot of your time in the lab. Mike will still have to see you and work with your team, god, probably have to talk to you. 

 The floor opens up for any questions, but Shadis is the only one who speaks, wanting clarification on some statistic that Mike is going to have to read over later. Once the boss is happy, he stands, then walks behind Mike's chair to slap him on the back and say the last thing Mike wants to hear.

 "This is Dr. Mike Zacharias. All of you should get familiar with him since he'll be heading this project."

 Mike sits up a little straighter and forces a tight-lipped smile that all of his colleagues know is fake. 

 "Happy to be working with you." 

 It isn't a lie. He's been excited about this project for a long time now. He just wasn't expecting such a massive wrench to get thrown right into the middle of it. 

 The four of you start packing up your materials. When Henning tries to hand you his binder, you tell him, "No, those are for you to keep. Just to get a real grasp on what we found out there."

 Mike knows he's staring, swiveling back and forth in his chair, twirling the pen he's picked up again, and he wonders if it would just be easier to rip the bandaid off. Exchange hellos, go over the bare minimum—how long he's been with the company, how long you've been researching. Just enough to appear casual, like you didn't break Mike's fucking heart in college. 

 And, then he thinks about just avoiding you altogether. There's always the chance your issues could come up in conversation, and it's so far in the past now, there's nothing either of you can say to make the other feel better. This can't be about closure. It's just a job. That's all. 

 "Wow, everyone really… cleared outta here."

 Mike's vision unfogs, and he glances around to find that yes, you're the only two left in the conference room. Fantastic. 

 You're wrapping a cord around your elbow then shoving it in a laptop bag, and he can tell you're moving as fast as you can, ready to get the fuck out of there. 

 "Uh, yeah," Mike agrees, pushing himself to his feet and grabbing his notebook to curl in his hands. "Everyone's just ready to get back to work, I guess."

 "Yeah. You can only hold someone's attention with a PowerPoint for so long."

 Mike's mouth is too dry, and it feels like he needs to cough, but he doesn't want to startle you, so he just quietly clears his throat in an entirely ineffective way and tells you, "Good PowerPoint, though."

 You snicker, not loud enough to hear your real laugh, and Mike doesn't know if he's grateful for that or not. 

 "Thanks. Mobs made it."

 Slinging the bag over your shoulder, you finally look up at Mike—really look at him for the first time—and he sees your expression go soft, mouth twitching like you’re caught between smiling and frowning, and Mike is taken back to the first night he met you when he wanted you to shotgun that disgusting beer. 

 You blink at him, open and close your mouth, and Mike is waiting with baited breath for you to say something else, but all you do is hold your hand out for him to take the projector remote from you. 

 "Here."

 He grabs it with two fingers, careful not to brush your hand. Fuck, he wishes his heart would stop beating so hard, it's incredibly uncomfortable. 

 "I feel like I should say something," you murmur, "But I have no idea what, so I'm just gonna tell you I look forward to working with you, Dr. Zacharias."

 He grins. Widely. He doesn't mean to, but he does. It's been so damn long since anyone has said his last name like that. 

 "Do you, though?" He asks. 

 "Do I what?"

 "Look forward to working here."

 "Oh, uh…" You bite your lip, start rocking on your feet again, then shrug. "I guess? I mean… Big project."

 "Very big."

 "It's important to me. I can't say that I was expecting—"

 "Me?" Mike offers with a tilt of his head. 

 He's standing too close. It feels like he is, anyway, so he moves back to lean against the conference table. 

 "Yeah, pretty much," you laugh. "It's been a while."

 Mike wonders if you remember that night as well as he does. No matter how much he's tried to forget it, that image of you with fat years rolling down your face just will not leave him. Do you remember how it felt? Can you remember everything he said to you? 

 Before Mike can respond, you wave a hand. "Anyway, I need to go help set up our little area, so…"

 "Yeah, for sure. I'll be around."

 After powering through the last hour of his day, Mike bolts from the building. He needs to get home. He needs to get a drink in his hand. He needs to unwind and not think of you. 

 He needs to fucking call Erwin. 

 "Hey, bro, what's up?" 

 "Dude," is all Mike says at first. 

 "What?" 

 "You will never fucking guess who's on the team we’re working with on the Sina water project."

 Erwin hums in a sing-song sort of way, then chuckles. "Funny, I got a similar call about an hour ago."

 "You guys still talk?" Mike asks a little too loudly. 

 "Yeah, man. Not every day or anything, but—"

 Mike rolls his eyes. "You're unbelievable." He isn't mad, and Erwin knows this. He's just a little surprised. His friend hasn’t as much as uttered your name in the last ten years. 

 "Yeah, whatever. How'd it go from your perspective?" 

 "It—Wait, what did she say?" 

 "Oh, no no no," Erwin laughs. Mike here's a distant, "Hold that, please!" and figures he's making his way to the elevator to leave work as well. "I am not getting caught up in your bullshit again."

 Pouting, Mike finally turns on his car and pulls out of the parking lot. "Fine. It went… Well? I think? I mean, super awkward, but that isn't surprising."

 "No name-calling or confessions of undying love?" 

 "No, I'm not twenty-two anymore."

 "Could have fooled me," Erwin snorts. 

 "Fuck off. It was a good presentation, but she was nervous, and I couldn't tell if it was from having to speak in front of people or if it was 'cause I was there, and then we talked afterward—nothing important or anything, just, like, an acknowledgement. You know, you're here, I'm here, we have to find a way to co-exist, except neither of us actually said that," Mike has to take a deep breath. He's rambling, he knows, and Erwin is just listening, probably storing it all away to make fun of him about it later. "It was okay. It could've been worse."

 "Could have been better too."

 "What? How—"

 "Could have bent her over the desk and—"

 "Dude!"

 Erwin breaks into that deep laugh Mike is so used to, tells him, "I'm just saying! I know she's still cute. We have each other on Facebook."

 He's right. Too right. You are absolutely still cute, all dressed up in business casual attire, so different from the leggings and hoodies you used to wear. Your face has matured slightly—naturally—and your hair is different but still suits you. Mike has no idea how he's supposed to work with you for the next few months. 

 "I can't deal with you," Mike grumbles. "Why did I even call you?" 

 "Probably because I'm the only one who has an inkling about what you're going through right now," Erwin replies. "Aside from her anyway."

 "Yeah, yeah."

 They chat for a little while longer until Erwin gets to the bar he's apparently meeting some coworkers at, and Mike spends the rest of his drive listening to music too loud as he tries and fails to clear his mind of you. 

 *

 You're pacing. You have been for the last hour. The food you made for yourself went cold some time ago, but you're too busy whining into your phone to notice. 

 "Just—like—what the fuck am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to work with him like this? He's overseeing the whole fucking project! I can't just avoid him!" 

 "Okay, first thing's first," Hitch stops you. "I need you to take a deep breath for me."

 "Hitch—"

 "Breathe!"

 You inhale through your nose then blow out through your mouth, but that's obviously not good enough for Hitch because she demands, "And, again."

 "What are you, my therapist?" 

 "I mean, I usually act like one, so… anyway, while you're calming the fuck down, I'm gonna call for backup. Hold please."

 Dropping yourself onto the hotel couch, you try to relax even though you know it'll be impossible because—

 "You're working with Mike?" Rhi's shrill voice meets your ear, and you have to pull the phone away. 

 "Rhi, you're supposed to help me calm her down, not add to her panic," Hitch reminds her. 

 "Yeah, no, that's not gonna happen," Rhi tells her, and you laugh to yourself. 

 "Agreed."

 "Okay, so tell me what happened. Oh my god, did you cry? Did he cry? What'd Erwin say when you told him? You told him, right?" 

 You've gotten used to Rhi's rapid fire inquiries a long time ago, so you have no problem answering, "We walked in for the big Sina presentation today, and he was just there, and I was freaking out, so Hange had to do most of the work but still made me go over my findings 'cause I understand them better than they do, but anyway. I don't think he was paying attention at fucking all which is cool 'cause I wouldn't have been either, and then we talked for a second afterward, but there were no tears. There was almost vomit 'cause I felt like I needed to throw up, but I kept it together. I think."

 "Okay, and Erwin? What'd he say?" 

 You snicker to yourself. "He made fun of me for a little while and then he told me to talk to Mike once I calmed down just to catch up and then to—this is verbatim, by the way—to possibly have dirty sex in Mike's office."

 Both of your friends howl, Hitch being the first to gather herself enough to giggle, "He fucking would say that, oh my god, I hate him."

 "Same," Rhi drawls. "Okay, but is there the possibility of dirty office sex?"

 "Wha—That's what you're taking away from all that?" You splutter. 

 "Uh, yeah."

 "I'm kinda curious too," Hitch pipes up. 

 You wave your free hand around in confusion and tell them, "I—we—no! We don't even know each other anymore. We said, like, four words to each other today, and it was fucking weird, so no. Pervs."

 "Do you want to, though? Has he aged well?" Hitch asks in a low, sultry voice. 

 You click your tongue and pause, not wanting the first thought that pops into your head to be what comes out of your mouth because yes, holy shit, yes, Mike looks so fucking good. It was one of many reasons you were so tongue-tied in front of him. 

 He's still impossibly tall and broad, but in slacks and a button up. The beard he’s always had is short and rugged and a tad darker than the hair on top of his head that he's let grow out long enough to tie in a bun, and it fits him too well. You thought you were gonna start drooling on his fancy shoes. 

 "He's alright," you play. They see right through you, falling into another long fit of laughter until you admit, "Okay, okay, he's still stupid hot, alright?" 

 "God bless. I'm so happy to hear that. I'm so happy for you."

 "Why would you—"

 "Just promise you'll invite us to the wedding."

 "I think you guys are getting a little ahead of yourselves."

 "Oh my god, we have to call Marie."

 "And, Maddie."

 You shake your head as the other two start going back and forth, talking about you like you're not even there, bringing up college memories, old parties you'd all gone to. 

 "Hey, remember when you hated me?" Rhi questions, and both of you snort. 

 "And, you hated me right back. Stole your man or whatever."

 Hitch mutters a quiet, "Ew, fuck that guy."

 And, Rhi picks up, "Yeah, fuck that all-American, record-breaking pitcher."

 The three of you talk well into the evening, eventually switching to Zoom so that you can all see each other and add Maddie and Marie into the call. You and Hitch break open bottles of wine, but Rhi and Maddie don't drink, "Solidarity with this pregnant bitch," Maddie says, and Marie lifts her glass of water to cheers via internet. 

 Sophomore and junior year of college, you never would have expected to get close to anyone other than Hitch, but through a few shared classes and petty curiosity, all of you ended up seeking solace in one another and came out on the other side as best friends. Hitch was even Maid of Honor in Marie and Nile's wedding. Against all odds, everything turned out pretty wholesome. 

 "I genuinely hope it works out," Hitch says now, words long, lazy, and starting to slur together "Like, even if it's just you and Mike making up and being, like, cool with each other again."

 "Hitch, you're drunk, please go to bed."

 "I am drunk. But, I still mean what I said. I miss when you guys were just best friends."

 "Why?" You question with a head shake. 

 Hitch sighs, "'Cause you were so happy."

 "No, I—"

 "I mean, you were still all… weird and guarded, but that dude made you laugh and smile so much."

 "I daresay I even saw you giddy on a couple of occasions," Marie hums. 

 "Whatever. I just want it to be… not awkward."

 "Then, talk."

 "Mm, pass."

 *

 A light knock on the wall of the impressively large cubicle gets your whole team's attention, all of you glancing up to find Mike standing in the little entryway, hands in his pockets.

 "Hey, just checkin' in. Have you all gotten settled?" 

 "Yes!" Hange is up on their feet. "Great accommodations, and that lab you guys use?" They moan, and you can tell Mike is trying not to laugh because his mouth is twisting to one side like it always does when he tries to appear unaffected by something. However, you know well that it is very hard to remain unaffected by Hange Zoe. 

 "Yeah, we haven't had a lab that shiny in a long time," Moblit chuckles. 

 "Don't you work in government buildings?" Mike frowns. 

 "You ever seen the inside of a post office?" You question, immediately regretting it when those light green eyes land on you. 

 "Uh, yeah?" 

 Smirking through the butterflies, you tell him, "Those are government buildings too."

 "Don't mind her. She's just being a smartass," Abel says.

 Mike is really fighting that smile now. Even pinched to one side, you can see the way his lips are trying to curve upward, and you have to bite yours and look at the floor before you start acting like a god damn school girl. 

 It's nearing the end of the first week at your new location. It hasn't been terrible, and some of the strangeness is beginning to wear off, but it's still jarring to see Mike walk around or hear his voice carrying through his office door. 

 Neither of you have gone out of your way to talk to one another. Anything project related, Hange handles for the most part, and if anything is delegated to you, you try to pass it off to Abel because you're just not ready to be alone in a room with Mike. Your brain and your heart can't take it yet. 

 You can't deny that you're curious, though. You wonder what his life is like now, what his job is like outside of what you've seen (which, admittedly, is not much), what he does in his free time now, who he spends his time with. You couldn't help but notice (you made a point of looking) that there isn't any type of ring on his finger which is pretty fucking surprising since, well, Mike has always been a catch. How has someone not come around and swiped him off the market? Or, does he just not wear a wedding band at work? Or, does he just have a girlfriend and is waiting to take the next step? So many questions you have no business asking.

 Mike hums, rubs at something probably nonexistent on the carpet with the toe of his shoe, and mumbles a little, "Nothin’ I haven't dealt with before," that makes everyone look at him curiously. "With co-workers, you know. Lotta sass in the office."

 You stifle a laugh and stand up. There are a lot of sassy things you could say, but you figure none of them are actually appropriate, especially since Mike is technically your boss now—why is that so hot?—so you just slip out of the cubicle, doing your best to not brush up against Mike. He apparently doesn't care, though, because while he moves to the side, he does the thing that all men do, placing a hand on the small of your back as if to guide you past him, and it makes you burn. 

 "'scuse me," you squeak, relieved to be able to run to the restroom where you can sit in a stall and scream to Hitch through texts. 

 You are dying—mostly because you don't know what you want. Do you want to be friends? Do you want to seduce him? Do you want another nine years away from him? You have no idea. 

 You were sad for a long time after that holiday break. You trudged through your spring courses, took more classes in the Summer, then started all over. Hitch had to physically drag you out of your tiny apartment a few times but never to any parties, thank god. Just to lunch or the library, and eventually, Rhi, Marie, and Maddie came into the picture. Further into the picture, anyway. 

 While they got you laughing again, though, that ache didn't ever fade. Mike's words replayed in your head in a constant loop, day and night for months. I can’t do this anymore. Start fresh. Shouldn’t be hard for you. You were mad at yourself for a long time, for ruining everything and hurting him. If you could have gone back to the start of it all and done things differently, you would have, but you just had to sit with all your mistakes instead. 

 Then, your anger shifted toward him. Because you weren't the only one who messed up. You may have been the first one to, but he did some shitty things too. He's the one who didn't care even after finding out it was Zeke who blocked his number. He's the one who refused to believe that you and Erwin weren't actually a couple. He's the one who brought Rhi to the ranch house with the specific intention of hurting your feelings (and to wet his dick). 

 And, he's the one who didn't want to work things out. 

 You understand his frustration. You broke his heart, after all. But then, he turned around and broke yours too. 

 It was nine years ago, and you've moved on. You've dated people since then. You've fallen in and out of love. Mike wasn't even on your radar until Monday, but now… Now, there's no forgetting him. Old wounds get jabbed every time he peeks around the corner, any time you hear him laugh or see him smile, and when he actually looks at you, fuck, it's like someone is ripping stitches out of your skin.

 It is not a productive work environment. 

 Your team hasn't noticed much other than Moblit asking what has you so tense these days, but no one has made any connections, and you'd like to keep it that way. Hange would have a fucking field day if they found out. 

 There are many meetings to toss around ideas, plans and blueprints that get scrapped. You stumble through presentations, trying not to look directly at anyone as your cheeks heat up and your hands shake. 

 "You've never been nervous about stuff like this," Abel tells you in the conference room one day as everyone else files out. "What's up with you?" 

 "Nothing," you shake your head. "Don't worry about it."

 "Nothing my ass," he grumbles, walking out without you. 

 "You really should try to relax," Mike tells you from where he's still sitting at the table. "No idea why you're so nervous."

 Everyone else is gone which means you're free to squint at him, scathing retort on the tip of your tongue, but when you see that he's smirking at you, the words dry up. 

 "Don't play dumb, Zacharias."

 "I'm not playing anything," he tells you. "But, I do need to know how long we're gonna keep up this I don't know you-you don't know me thing."

 "You literally just said—..." Taking a deep breath, you look over your shoulder to, one, form a coherent sentence in your brain, and two, make sure no one is close enough to hear it when you say, "What would you prefer we do? Not like we can just pick up where we left off. Unless, you know, you wanna go back to being incredibly fucking pissed at me for months on end."

 "Man, you really are tense about this," Mike chuckles, and you're torn between slapping him and jumping his bones, so you do neither. Fuck, why'd he have to wear the purple tie today? It looks so good with his complexion and complements his eyes. A few strands of hair have come loose from the bun at the back of his head, and he shakes them out of his face like he used to shake his shaggy bangs, and all you can do is stare and squirm and tell him, "I have to go."

 "Go where?" He asks, standing from his chair. It feels like he towers over you even from across the table. 

 You hold your hands out and gesticulate a little frantically, "I don't know—work? Maybe?"

 He's extremely amused, even laughs as you make your way out the door, then calls, "Whenever you're ready to talk, just let me know! You know where my office is."

 "I don't wanna talk!"

 You really don't. But, you also really do. 

 *

 Mike starts having fun with his new department (you specifically) around the third week. 

 He's never seen you like this before, having to mentally prepare yourself before you walk into any room, like you have to be ready for him. You nibble on your lip and rock on your heels. Your hands shake in meetings when you have to point to pictures or graphs. 

 It’s just so unlike you. He got so used to the surly, uncaring girl in college, never happy to see Mike until you gave him a fair chance (and decided you enjoyed his cock). He expects everything to come out of your mouth to be sarcastic or suggestive, and when it's not, it takes him off guard.  

 Mike is nervous around you too. He can easily admit that. But, his neverending panic really just manifests in the form of nausea and heart palpitations which he thinks is better than trembling and stuttering, but it's still mildly distracting. 

 Every once in a while, he catches a glimpse of that old side of you, though, a mumbled smartass remark or an unimpressed expression, and he has to make a conscious effort to not grin like an idiot because he's still trying to decipher his actual feelings. 

 Is he supposed to act like nothing ever happened, or should he hold a grudge? What seems more natural? What feels more natural? 

 Mike knows the answer to that last question, but he hasn't fully accepted it. 

 "It's kinda cute, actually. Like, I walk into the room and she gets this little doe-eyed expression. Looks like she's about to run away."

 "You're kind of a sadist, you know that?" Erwin says. 

 "I mean, is it so wrong to get a little satisfaction outta this?" 

 "I think so, yeah. You're driving her crazy, dude."

 Mike smacks his lips and rolls his eyes. "Man, how would you know—"

 "'Cause she told me!" Erwin basically shouts like it's obvious. "The words came out of her mouth. Mike is driving me crazy. Just like that."

 Pouting, Mike takes another sip of his beer and lets his eyes travel to the bottom of the TV screen to check the score of the game he isn't watching. 

 "Well, it's not like I can really do anything about it. She'll only be here for a few months."

 "Do you happen to know how long it takes for a stomach ulcer to form?" Erwin asks. 

 Mike frowns. "Uh, no?" 

 "Well, neither do I, but I'm pretty sure it's not very long."

 Both of them laugh. Mike mutters something about Erwin being fucking stupid, and then Erwin sighs and speaks, "I am begging you, dude. Please just get a fucking drink with her or something."

 "We don't mix well with alcohol," Mike snarks. 

 "What's the worst that could happen—you end up in bed again?"

 "Well—"

 "Honestly, both of you could probably benefit from a good fuck, but what do I know? I'm just the guy both of you call for this shit."

 "Alright, I get it. I'll… see if she's up for something," Mike mumbles. 

 "I mean, I wouldn't open with sex, maybe start off with lunch or…"

 "I'm hanging up now."

 Mike doesn't actually know how to ask you, though. You're so fucking skittish around him, and you're obviously worried about people finding out you have a history, so he's gonna have to be strategic about it, maybe plant the seed a few days before or—

 "Hey, listen…" You appear in Mike's office doorway, long cardigan falling to your knees and swishing behind you even after you've stopped moving. "I know it's almost five, but I'm, like, right in the middle of mapping out a new plan, and I don't wanna lose steam, so is it cool if I stay late?" 

 "Yeah, I don't care," Mike answers, tacking on, "S'long as you're okay with being here late with me."

 "Oh, th-that's—" you splutter for a little while, and Mike raises his eyebrows. "That's n-not necessary. You don't have to, like, supervise me or anything."

 "I'm not supervising you," Mike snorts. "I'm trying to finish my piece for a journal."

 "Ah, right, that's… yes." You shoot off a half-hearted finger gun, and Mike wants to hop his desk to get to you. There you are. There are your dumb fucking mannerisms, please, just act like yourself, for the love of god. 

 "Okay, well if you need me, uh, I will probably be on the floor in the annex, so…"

 "We do have chairs, ya' know," Mike smirks. 

 "Yeah, but it's easier to just spread everything out so I can see it."

 "Want a corkboard? You can make it look like you're doing a murder investigation."

 "Hmm, might make it look more official," you muse, making a face of contemplation. 

 Before you can actually say yes, Mike pipes up again. "I don't actually have a corkboard. It was a joke."

 "Yeah, I know," you snicker. "Wouldn't be big enough anyway."

 Too many responses flood Mike's brain at once, causing him to bite his tongue because every last one of them is gross, but you must be able to read it on his face because you point and tell him, "Stop."

 "I didn't say anything!" He laughs. 

 "You don't have to. I know."

 Mike rolls his eyes, "Okay," and looks back to his computer, hoping the screen is high enough to hide his grin as you turn and walk away. 

 The next hour is spent editing the same paragraph over and over with no real motivation because everyone has vacated the floor except for you and Mike, and this could be a good time to talk to you, but he also doesn't want to disrupt your work. Just because he can't focus doesn't mean you can't. You'd only get upset if he distracted you from your work anyway—it's happened before—redirecting your attention from a textbook or study guide to… other things. 

 He goes down a rabbit hole, reminiscing on those occasions, then tweaking them just a little to fit into the current setting, and it's the absolute last thing Mike should be thinking about, but it's Friday, and you're slightly more casual in your flowy cardigan and tight jeans, and all he wants is to get one teeny tiny look at your ass in them because he knows your it’s perfect. He's seen it in leggings and cheeky little boy shorts and lacy thongs, and there is absolutely no way he can go out to talk to you now. 

 Also, he really needs to write at least one paragraph before leaving tonight. It's all about water and waste and pollutants which is the shit Mike knows like the back of his hand. He'd just rather have said hands on something else. 

 "Yeah, this isn't gonna happen," he mutters to himself, taking his hair down to scratch at his scalp. He's better off just going home. 

 Mike packs a few things up before stepping out of his office, closing and locking the door behind him. Half the lights are off, but the portion over the annex is shining brightly. Mike stares in that direction as he debates telling you he's leaving or bolting without saying anything. 

 It's the thought of you walking out to your car alone that makes his mind up, and Mike saunters to the annex and finds you on hands knees surrounded by several sketches, crumpled notes, and the set of blueprints that Mike is pretty sure got thrown in the recycling on Tuesday. 

 "Where'd you even find those?" 

 You don't look up when you answer, "Recycling comes every Monday."

 "So, you went… dumpster diving?" 

 Lifting your head, you squint up at Mike, tracking him as he squats on the other side of your organized chaos. 

 "Is it dumpster diving if it's all paper?" 

 Mike shrugs. "Dunno. How's it comin'?"

 "I'm comi—It!" You correct a little too loudly. "It's coming! It's coming along just fine."

 "Yeah?" Mike chuckles. "Cute Freudian slip there."

 "It was not—" You grit your teeth, fingers curling on the papers they're resting on, then question, "Did you need something?"

 "Just came by to say I was leaving," Mike tells you. Something catches his eye, though, some of your notes scribbled just big enough for him to read a few of the words from where he is, and he grabs the sheet to look it over more carefully. 

 Irrigation plans, specialized pumps, introducing new life into the lake, specifically filter fish…

 "I was just vomiting ideas out on paper, it's nothing important."

 Mike hums and reads further. Some of it is familiar because Mike has considered some of these himself, but while your engineering thoughts are a little vague, the ideas that lean more toward the biological side of things are pretty interesting, even if they're just sloppy bullet points and arrows. 

 "You wanna vomit on a person instead?" He asks, chuckling at the look you give him. 

 "Ew."

 "Just spitball. Throw it at me."

 "Oh, I'm gonna throw somethin' at you all right."

 Mike slips his bag from his shoulder and sets it down before sitting on the ground, picking up the papers closest to him. 

 "Tell me about the xylem tissue method," he prompts. 

 You don't speak right away, just chew on your lip while staring at the sketches on the ground, but then you nod and sit back on your heels. 

 "So, we know that white pine trees are a natural means of filtering, but there aren't any around here. I know it's more of a long-term plan, but we can't just go with a temporary fix, so I was thinking—"

 Mike listens. To everything. Everything you can think of. He watches too. You rub your hands over your jeans and flick hair from your eyes. You change positions, sitting on one foot while resting your chin on your knee as you think out loud, then move to sit cross-legged only to get up to pace the length of the cubicle, barefoot since your heels were kicked off long ago. 

 He asks questions or makes suggestions here and there, and soon it isn't just you who's brainstorming.

 It's easy. It's what Mike knows, and it's obviously what you know too, and a couple of hours pass before either of you realize it. 

 "Shit, it's almost ten," you state, looking at your phone. "Sorry, I didn't mean to keep you here so late."

 "It's fine. Wouldn't have stayed if I didn't want to."

 Mike stretches as he stands, twisting to crack his back and rolling his neck. You gather up all the papers, straightening them into a neat pile then putting them in a drawer at the bottom of your desk. 

 You walk out together, still chatting in the elevator and out to the parking lot, and Mike feels good. He feels like… He feels like he did in college. 

 "Please tell me that is not your car," you say, eyeing the boxy, white Mercedes that is, in fact, Mike's. 

 "What of it?" 

 "These fucking Jeeps are so ugly, I cannot believe—"

 "Uh, it's not a Jeep. It's a g-wagon, thank you."

 You roll your eyes. "I liked your Wrangler better."

 "I bet you fuckin' did," he mumbles, too lost in the memory of you riding him in said Wrangler to think about how you might take the comment. 

 "It was easier on the eyes," you explain. 

 "It was a frat boy car."

 "You were a frat boy!" 

 "And, now I'm a professional."

 "Are you, though?" You tease, expression skeptical save for your tiny smirk. 

 "Most of the time."

 The only other vehicle in the lot is a Land Rover, considerably larger than the little hatchback you used to drive but very fitting for someone in your line of work. Mike thinks about mentioning that it's basically the same as his Mercedes, just not as expensive and with rounder edges, but he knows you'll just get indignant and defensive. 

 He walks you over to your car, and you don't question it, just open the passenger side and throw your bag inside. 

 This is your chance, Mike realizes. Just ask. Ask her to go somewhere else and talk about something other than work.

 "Hey, uh, do you wanna grab a drink or something?" He tries, heartbeat picking up once again. His eyes are a little too wide as you regard him carefully, studying him like one of your samples.

 Then, you shake your head. 

 "No, Mike. I don't wanna grab a drink." His stomach opens up, the heat that comes with embarrassment creeping up his neck. 

 "Oh, sorry, I just—"

 "But, there's a breakfast place close to the extended stay they put us up in. I've been wanting to check it out."

 And, like that, his hope is restored. Hope for what, Mike doesn't know, but it's certainly there, blooming in his chest like unkempt wildflowers. 

 "Yeah?" 

 You nod. "Yeah. I'm still not really a morning person, but d'you wanna meet there at, like, ten or so?" 

 "Tomorrow?" 

 "I mean, if that works for you."

 "Yeah!" Mike clears his throat, lowers his voice so that he sounds a little less excited. "I'm usually up and moving by eight."

 "God, why do you hate yourself?" You cringe. 

 "I've always been an early riser."

 "Not from what I remember."

 Mike leans against your rover, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, maybe not when I was kept up into the early morning hours, but usually I was up before everyone else."

 You post up across from him, one hand on your hip, and Mike realizes this is gonna go on for some time. 

 "Kept up? Like you didn't wanna be?"

 He's fine with that. He'll stand out here talking with you until the sun comes up if you'll let him. And, maybe after that too. 

 *

 Breakfast is good. Breakfast is safe. Breakfast is the start of the day and free of alcohol. There is nothing suggestive about breakfast. 

 Except breakfast has become a habit. For the last three Saturdays you’ve sat at the little cafe next to your hotel talking with Mike for at least an hour. You’re kind of getting to know him again, but most of the conversation consists of stupid jokes or blatant deflections. 

 His parents are still doing well, both in their sixties now, but Scout, unfortunately passed away a few years ago. Hearing it makes your eyes burn, and watching Mike’s face fall actually makes you wipe at your own rapidly forming tears. 

 He still keeps in touch with several of his frat brothers—Erwin (obviously), Nile, Gelgar, and some of the younger kids, Jean, Marco, and Connie.

 “Yeah, I’m actually pretty close to Marie now,” you tell him. “And, Maddie, and Rhi.”

 “Rhi?” He looks incredibly surprised.

 “Yeah,” you laugh. “Bonded over the woes of college boys.”

 “Didn’t see that coming.”

 “Neither did I, honestly.”

 Working with him is easier now. The ice has been broken. The boundaries have been set even if they are unspoken. You still do your best not to touch him at all, never stand too close or brush against him in any way, but you’ve loosened up a lot, and your team seems to appreciate it. Unfortunately, they also start to notice the way you light up a little too much whenever you’re around Mike, and naturally, Hange just had to comment on it a few days ago. 

 “You have a crush on the bossman or somethin’?”

 “What? No. We just work well together, I guess.”

 You do not tell Mike about this exchange, in fear of him prying. Well, do you have a crush on the bossman? You’re not ready for that, probably never will be. 

 There are a few breakthroughs in the Sina project. The research team gets extra funding to run more trials, and you start to stay late more often, sometimes in the tower with everyone else and sometimes in the lab. Things are progressing nicely. 

 Eventually, breakfast turns to lunch, lunch turns to dinner, and then you find yourself in Mike’s apartment, sitting at his kitchen table while he cooks.

 “So, we talk every once in a while now, but it’s usually really awkward. Like, I still don’t ever know what to say to him.”

 “Do you find it weird that he reached out in the first place?”

 “Kind of? When I was younger, I always hoped he would, but now that he has, I almost wish he hadn’t. Does that make sense?”

 Mike shrugs as he pours noodles into a strainer over the sink. “I mean, he’s your dad, so yeah, it makes sense. What he did was super shitty, but I figure it’s hard to forget the good times and just abandon all hope.”

 “Yeah. On the bright side, he sends my brother money for commissary, like, every week, so that’s nice.”

 It took a little while, but you’ve let yourself open up to Mike much easier this time around. Whether it’s because you already know you can trust him or because you’ve gotten the closure you needed for so long, you’re not sure. You just know it’s been easy. 

 Unfortunately, with vulnerability comes feelings, and you are having a lot of those. Too many. You’re glad that it’s not debilitating dread and nervousness now, but the overwhelming affection isn’t any less distracting.

 Watching Mike move around his kitchen, though—clad in a t-shirt, faded jeans, and the dish towel thrown over his shoulder, you are painfully reminded of why you got so attached all those years ago. 

 It isn’t fair. You really didn’t want to fall back into this hole. You knew it was a possibility as soon as you saw him at that first meeting, but you were trying to put it off until you had to leave. 

 Because that’s the plan. You come in. You complete the project, get them started on a long-term plan for the lake, then head back to your home facility and wait for another job to be assigned. You can’t just stay here, even if the idea gets a little more tempting every day. 

 You’re just friends, though, just spending time together because it’s familiar. It’s nice being back on the same page, just letting the past stay there.

 “So, it’s been about two months,” Mike starts, and something about his tone makes your stomach drop. “I feel like that’s an appropriate amount of time to wait before finally addressing the elephant in the room.”

 So much for letting the past stay there. 

 Groaning, you rub your hands down your face. “Do we really have to?” Of course he would want to talk about it now that you’re comfortable.

 “I really think we do.”

 “Mike, that was so long ago. I was a dumb fucking kid. What do you need to know other than that?”

 He braces himself on his counter, face serious. “Nothin’ really. I just want you to know that I was a dumb kid too.”

 “Yeah, and we’ve grown since then and gotten over it, right?”

 He lets out a long sigh. “I had gotten over it, but working with you every day has kinda... brought some things back to the surface.”

 Staring at him, you swallow and try to stay calm. You know where he’s coming from, and it’s a little comforting to know that he’s been experiencing at least some of the emotions that you have been, but you don’t know whether or not it’s a good thing. 

 “I get it. I’ve been struggling too, but there’s nothing we can really do about it.”

 You’ve thought about just taking the plunge and sleeping with him again. It would be nice—really fucking nice—but it would only make things worse. 

 “I guess. It’s been cool to hang out again, but…” Mike chews on his lip for a moment before finishing, “We’ve never been good at just hanging out.” 

 The reminder makes your skin prickle with heat, and you shift in your chair, reeling in your thoughts before they run wild. 

 “Yeah. If it would be easier to just not hang out, I’d understand.”

 He turns back to the stove to stir something and turn on the vent then twists back around. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

 “Then, what are you saying?”

 Mike makes a little disgruntled noise, hanging his head like he’s getting frustrated. “I’m saying some days are hard. I tried to keep some distance, but that lasted for about a week, and now you’re here, and even though you’ve changed some, you’re still you, and I’m still me, and… Some days are just hard.”

 Some minutes are hard, you think to yourself. You can be going about your day like someone who isn’t completely fucking smitten, and then you see Mike, and he nods or grins and suddenly all you want is to be alone with him and trace over his lips with yours, feel his hands on you, run your fingers through his long hair. 

 “If I could take those feelings away from you, I would,” you tell him, and it’s apparently the wrong thing to say because he frowns.

 “Do you not feel the same way then?”

 Your reply is almost instantaneous. “Christ, Mike, of course I feel the same! I was in love with you! I didn’t know how to show it back then, but that’s what it was, so yeah, I feel it too, but there’s no point in—in analyzing it or turning it into something—”

 “You were in love?”

 “Dude. Yes. It took me a while to realize it—like, way too long—but yeah. Definitely love. Junior and senior year wouldn’t have sucked so much if it was just lust or infatuation or something.”

 “Sorry.”

 “Don’t be,” you wave him off. “I fucked up. You had every right to be pissed.”

 “I could’ve handled it better,” he mutters.

 You shake your head. “Dumb kids, remember?”

 Mike looks genuinely upset, and you don’t know what to say anymore, so you get up from the kitchen table and walk over to him. You have to physically urge him to turn and face you, but once he does, you wrap your arms around his torso and sigh. He immediately locks his wrists behind your back, resting his chin on your head, and it feels familiar and right and a little bit like home. You can smell the fabric softener that clings to his shirt and the fresh scent of his deodorant, different from what he used to wear, but that doesn’t make it bad.

 “Can we wait for a while longer before we decide to act like dumb kids again?” You ask.

 Mike chuckles above you. “You say that like you’re positive we will.”

 You’re just being realistic, and you tell him as much. The chances of you leaving the city without having sex at least once are slim to none. You figure the two of you will break and indulge in one of those ‘just for old time’s sake’ fucks, but if Mike keeps talking to you like this, admitting feelings and what not, you’re gonna lose it much faster than you’d originally planned. 

 “Yeah.” You feel him nod. “Yeah, we can wait.”

 When he kisses the top of your head, you almost give up then and there. 

 *

 This fucking sucks. Everything sucks. Mike was never one of those people who looked back on college as his glory days, never really had the desire to go back to it, but now he feels like he’s reliving them because he’s back to being twenty-one and obsessed with a girl—being obsessed with you. 

 It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t know that you felt it too, but you admitted it, so now the only thing that’s stopping the two of you from exploring that avenue is, what, fear? Again?

 He gets it. He does. You don’t want to fall into something serious only to leave, but it’s possible to navigate relationships like that. Long distance-works. There’s technology for that like phones and video chats and sex toys. Then, there’s always the option of just relocating. It would be drastic, but Mike isn’t against the idea. Arrangements would have to be made, but he could swing it. It’s a little crazy so early on, but...

 He’s not gonna push it, not in a blatant way, but he’s gonna try his damndest to make it harder for you to go. He grows bold enough to start touching you more. A hand on the small of your back as you leave a room together, an arm around your shoulders when you watch TV over dinner, tucking hair behind your ear (“God, that used to be Erwin’s, like, go-to move.”). It’s fucked up because he knows your colleagues are asking about it, that he’s subjecting you to their interrogations, but he can’t help himself. He can’t stop.

 It definitely has an effect on you. You get flustered every time, can’t look at Mike for a while, and he hopes it’s because you’re thinking about other ways he could touch you—has touched you—f you’d just give him the chance.

 He thinks he has the patience to keep it up, wind you up more and more every day until you spin out of control and into his bed. You’re still spending time with him outside of work, still sharing pieces of yourself, and you’re not stopping him from putting his hands on you. so it’s only a matter of time.

 It comes to a head in his apartment after dinner. It’s so simple, something Mike didn’t even do on purpose, but as you’re washing your hands, he comes up behind you and reaches past you for a paper towel. He puts a hand on your hip without thinking, and his chest presses against your back, and then you’re exhaling in one quick huff and squirming to turn around.

 “Okay.”

 “Okay, what?” Mike asks, confused as he takes a step back. 

 “Okay, I’m ready to act like a dumb kid.”

 You don’t even dry your hands, just curl your fingers into his shirt and gaze up at him with dilated pupils, and Mike is elated.

 “Oh, thank god, fuck, thank god.”

 He leans down, and you stand on your tiptoes, and when you meet in the middle and he feels your lips on his for the first time in almost a decade, he groans. 

 You pull him closer, tilt your head further back to give him better access, and Mike cradles it in his hands. He tries not to breathe too heavily, pant like a fucking dog, but he’s been waiting for this since he saw you again. Maybe before that. He thinks on some level he’s been waiting for this since he left you alone in the ranch house, a little voice nagging at him to go back, to fix things, and he just never did. 

 “This is stupid, this is so stupid,” you murmur against him. “Only gonna make things harder.”

 “Just stop thinking about it,” Mike replies, nipping at your bottom lip. He doesn’t want you to think about it because he doesn’t want to think about it otherwise he’ll blurt out everything he’s been stewing on for the last couple weeks, the possibility of a real relationship, of you staying or him going, and that's too much. 

 You both shed clothes on your way to the bedroom, a trail of shirts and pants until you’re naked and laid out for him, and Mike swears he just might cry because you’re so beautiful, just as he remembered with a little more meat on your hips and thighs, a new scar on your calf that he asks about before brushing his lips over it. That leg is already resting on his shoulder, and once he gets situated on his stomach, he throws the other one over himself.

 His mouth starts to water as he gazes at your pussy, so fucking pretty, hole fluttering when he spreads you open. You can’t answer his question about the injury as he lowers his face, pressing the flat of his tongue to the sensitive skin then dipping it inside of you. 

 “Oh, fuck.”

 You taste and smell and feel perfect, and the only thought in his mind is to devour you. He won’t stop until you’re crying, drool leaking from your mouth and your cunt. And, he knows exactly how to get you to that point. 

 Mike flicks over your clit until it grows firm against his tongue then sucks it into his mouth. The noise you make goes straight to his cock, and he starts to rut into the mattress to get some kind of friction. He can already feel precum dripping from his tip, knows you won’t be the only one getting messy tonight, but he doesn’t care. He’s never cared. 

 Mike only pulls away when your thighs start to tremble around his head, and it’s only to mark them with bruises. It reminds him of the last time, when you’d let him fuck you in a fit of desperation. It had been his undoing. He thought of that night for years, and now that he’s able to do it all again, he can’t help but confess, “Fuck, I’ve missed your pussy,” just before he spits on it. 

 Your chest is rising with every little whimper you release as your nails dig into your palms. He’s never been happier to have long arms, able to reach up and massage your tits, stretching his fingers out to span across your chest, thumb on one nipple, pinky on the other, and as he teases both of them, he moans at the fresh slick that coats his tongue. 

 “A finger,” you pant, “Give me a finger, fuck, at least one, please please please—”

 You’ve always been so cute when you babble. Mike can never say no when you talk to him like that, but after assessing and deeming you fit, he slides two fingers into you at once, still sucking your clit.

 You swear loudly, almost in surprise, but that doesn’t stop you from moving your hips, fucking yourself on every digit as your jaw drops open. 

 Mike wants to see your face—has to see it, so he licks up your body, stopping to tongue over your nipples as he goes. He never falters in his thrusting, still knows the exact angle he has to crook his fingers to hit your g-spot. Your back arches, and you plant your feet flat on the mattress to give yourself more leverage, more control. Mike smirks down at you, enjoying your euphoric expression as he grinds his palm against the bundle of nerves that is the key to making you fall apart. 

 “Oh my god—oh, god—fuck, Miche.”

 His breath catches in his throat. God, he hasn’t heard that in too long. He never told you, not that he ever had to, but hearing you call him that drove him crazy, made him fall further in love and lust at the same time, and hearing it now has the same effect.

 “Please,” you whine, then repeat it, spreading your legs to coax him deeper. “Fuck, I need you so bad, s-so bad.”

He’s in the perfect position to rub his cock over your stomach, smearing pre everywhere it touches. From the beginning, Mike has loved leaving traces of himself on you, always felt like he could almost smell it on your skin, like a sigil to ward off others.

 He places a soft kiss at the corner of one closed eye, then on the other, and when you open them to look at him, he sees that they’re filled with tears. 

 It makes him pause, but you keep riding his fingers and beg, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop, m’fine, just—”

 “Why're you crying then?" he grins, leaning down to lick your bottom lip. "Feel good?" 

 You nod, raising to your elbows to force your mouth against his, sliding your tongue inside then whining when Mike pulls away, but it's only to gather the spit in his mouth. When he kisses you again, he makes sure you take it all, pushing saliva past his teeth and onto your palette, and when you swallow, Mike makes a noise of satisfaction. 

 "That's my fuckin' girl."

 That wide, fuck-drunk smile he loves so much spreads across your face as you accept the praise you never would have when you were younger.

 Mike noses just under your ear then asks, "You ready for my cock?" 

 "Always,” you breathe. “Always ready for it."

 "Yeah?" You nod, face scrunching up, and Mike thinks there's a chance that you're—"Gonna come for me first?" 

 Your muscles are starting to tense, hips stuttering, and he can actually feel your pussy spasming around his fingers. 

 "Come on, baby, you can do it. Just—'

 Your eyes roll back as your body pulses. Mike's hand is coated with slick that he can't wait to lick off, and he fucks you with his fingers until you go limp. 

 He cleans his hand then slithers back between your legs to catch everything that's leaking from you. You release a pitiful moan when he traces a circle around your entrance then squeal when he rubs his beard over it. 

 "Jesus fuck!"

 "Sensitive?" He teases before crawling back up to kiss you. 

 Holding himself up with one arm, Mike takes hold of his cock, painfully hard at this point, and parts your wet folds with his tip. He slides it up and down, teasing both you and himself and gasping every time it just barely dips inside of you. 

 "Miche, please."

 "You sound good when you beg," he tells you. You've been doing an awful lot of that tonight. 

 "Good enough to fuck me?" 

 "Mm, maybe," he plays, but he's cut off when you lift yourself just enough to take his cockhead inside of you, squeezing it so that he swears. 

 It completely dismantles any self-control Mike thought he had, and he gives you everything he has in a single thrust that makes you scream his name. 

 "You asked for it," he tells you, starting to pull out. 

 You grip his biceps, shaking your head. "J-just stay still for a—oh god, oh god…"

 Mike doesn't move, lets you adjust while he enjoys the way your cunt clenches around his cock. You're panting, eyebrows knit together, and apologize, "Sorry, give me… a minute. Been a while since I've taken anything this s-size."

 It's juvenile, but Mike's chest still puffs a little when you tell him that, and that feeling only grows when you give him the go ahead to move and he pulls out to see that his cock is already covered in white cream.

 Breathing out a quiet, "Fuck," he slowly pushes back in, mesmerized by the way it creates a thick ring at the base. "So pretty," he mutters, rubbing a thumb over the skin that's stretched around him. "Such a pretty pussy."

 He lets a string of spit drip from his mouth and onto your clit then strokes the swollen bud in circles, the pad of his fingers brushing over the tiny hole that makes you twitch every time. 

 Mike falls into a very slow, deep rhythm, torturing you as he drags his cock over every inch of your satin walls. Tiny gasps are pushed from your throat with every thrust, growing louder when Mike sits back on his heels and pulls your hips up to meet his. It leaves you helpless, only able to claw at the blankets, but your efforts are half-hearted, the press of Mike's cockhead against your g-spot obviously making it hard to do just about anything. 

 "I—I—I—..."

 "You what, baby?" He coos while admiring how big his hands look where they wrap around your waist, holding you mostly still as he drives his cock in and out of you. 

 Your cunt is pulsing again, so tight around him as it drips with slick and cream. The sounds it's making, an obscene balance of suction and squelching, has Mike shaking over you because it's so lewd but so familiar, and god, he has missed this. 

 And, you're right. It's stupid because he's just putting himself in the same place he was in ten years ago, but now he's a grown fucking adult, able to handle himself better, communicate better, fuck you better. 

 Tears leak from the corners of your eyes when he picks up his pace, and he groans when he presses in just a little too far, cockhead nudging against the wall deep inside of you. Your eyelids flutter, toes curling where your feet dangle and shake on either side of Mike. 

 His hips start to snap against yours, his balls swinging every time, and Mike remembers how nice it felt when they'd slap against your clit, the way you'd sing for him, and well…

 "Turn over," he breathes, pulling out and helping as you get to your hands and knees. 

 He takes the time to appreciate the view, letting the weight of his cock settle on your back just to get a visual of how much you take of it, what it might look like deep in your ass and what it would be like to see your stomach bulge from it. 

 Another day.

 Not wasting any more time, Mike sheathes himself inside you once again, spreading your cheeks and spitting on your puckering hole so that he can press against it with a thumb. 

 Your pussy opens up for him, like your body is begging him for more, so Mike fucks you harder, faster, slipping the tip of his finger into your asshole so that you tense up and say his name drunkenly. 

 His heavy balls hit your clit over and over, making you squirm and swear, head hanging back in an invitation, so Mike uses his free hand to grab you by the hair, pulling and glancing at what he can see of your face to make sure he isn't hurting you too much. 

 That grin is back, crooked and shiny with drool you keep having to suck back from your teeth. Mike hasn't felt this good having sex in god knows how long (he knows exactly how long it's been), and he thinks out loud, "Always take my cock so well. Always been able to…"

 "Feels so good, Miche," you cry, "You feel so fucking good, oh my god."

 He takes you like this until you can't hold yourself up anymore, elbows buckling underneath you, and all he does then is fall onto his back and pull you with him, letting you ride him like this and dragging his nails down your spine. It curves under his touch, arching and bowing as you lean forward to plant your hands between his legs and bounce on him. 

 Mike has a perfect view from this angle, huffing at the way your puffy lips open for him, clinging to his cock and dripping gossamer strands. Pressure slowly starts to build in both his gut and his balls, a hot sensation that grows, making him feel full and swollen and fuck, he can't wait to fill you up, can't wait to see you sloppy with his cum again. 

 But, not yet. Not yet. 

 Pushing you until you move off of him, Mike grabs his pillows and shoves you down on them, kissing you again before burying his face between your legs. Your hands are immediately in his hair, and he smiles when you tug at it a little harshly, using the strands as a means to guide Mike right where you want him. Even though he's taking this little break to let himself calm down, he can't help but press his hips to the mattress. He's hot and throbbing and dripping pre, ready but not ready to unload everything inside of you. He doesn't want it to end too soon, wants to savor every second because you're here crying and pleading for him, pushing yourself against his face only to pull back when he sucks on your clit. 

 He's able to fit three fingers inside of you now, keeps licking and fucking you until you whisper a slew of curses and start to warn him, "You're gonna make me—" breaking into a high-pitched moan as you squirt into his mouth and all over his hand. 

 "Fuck yes, again, come on, baby, do that again."

 Mike coaxes another out of you, groaning at the feeling of you dripping down his face and chuckling at the way you shiver and sit up. Your eyes are barely open, head swaying back and forth, but you plant a hand on his chest with the confidence of someone who doesn't look like they're about to pass out, shoving him back until he lays down. 

Straddling him, you sink down on his cock and bite your lip as you rock back and forth for a few seconds. Mike can feel fluid dripping over his pelvis, murmurs, "So messy," while pulling you down for a lazy kiss. 

 He lets you ride him, lets you think you're in control for a while until your legs start to get tired, rhythm becoming slower, and then Mike takes over. He lifts and drops you to his content, hips meeting yours as he fucks up into you. Your own hands cup your tits, pinching your nipples and putting on a show as you bounce up and down. 

 "You're so good," you breathe. "So fucking good to me, god, Miche, right there."

 He's on the brink, so close to his climax, but he holds back, giving it to you just the way you want it until it starts to hurt, and then he grunts, "'m gonna come, baby, I have to. Fuck, please, please, let me—"

 "Yes, yes, wanna feel you…"

 Mike's head sinks further into the pillow as his hips move without any thought on his part. He spills inside of you, hot ropes of cum filling your cunt so that it starts to leak out around him, then shooting even more inside of you. 

 "Jesus fucking—"

 Your muscles clench, squeezing and milking him until Mike starts groaning and twitching from overstimulation. 

 He could die right here and now and be totally fine with it. He really could. But before he can let that happen... 

 Mike urges you back, letting you get situated on your pillows again as he gazes at your stretched pussy and everything dripping out of it. 

 As soon as you stop moving, Mike is working his tongue inside of you. He can taste both himself and you, feel it coat his tongue as he drinks in as much as he can before sliding up to your face and taking your chin so you'll open your mouth. 

 The first drop makes you open wider, sticking your tongue out so that Mike can fill your mouth with his cum and spit, and the fact that you let him is so incredibly arousing, he just might fuck you until he's coming dry. 

 The little pattern is repeated a few times, Mike licking your pussy then spitting everything into your mouth, but he leaves some for lubrication, shoving the last of his cum back inside you when he starts fucking you on his fingers. He keeps you pliant, sucking on your clit so that he can slowly ease his pinky into your ass, and it isn't long before you're letting out breathy little sounds and tensing underneath him. 

 He takes care of you through your orgasm, looking at your face from where he lays. You're so pretty when you come, mouth open, eyebrows high, the picture of ecstasy, and Mike wants to remember it forever. He wants to keep you like this forever. 

 You shudder when he pulls his fingers from you, whine when he slowly laves over your sensitive pussy with his tongue, but after several long licks, Mike crawls back up to lay next to you. 

 "God damn," you laugh. "I had almost forgotten how good you are."

 Mike smirks, kissing your temple and nipping the shell of your ear. "Almost?"

 You nod, a spent smile making your lips curl. "I don't think I could ever fully forget even if I wanted to."

 Humming, he traces fingers over your stomach, now sticky from the mess of precum he had basically slathered you with. 

 "Yeah, we were pretty good for each other when we weren't being stupid," he muses. 

 He should probably step away for a few minutes, hop in the shower and wait for the flood of chemicals in his brain to fall away. 

 "We were, weren't we?" 

 "Mhm."

 Mike dips to press his face into your neck. He just can't stop touching you, can't stop breathing you in. He needs to memorize everything about this—how soft you are underneath him, how you smell like sex and sweat and your perfume, how quiet your voice is when you speak to him. 

 He feels your body rise and fall with a heavy sigh, and he's about to ask if you want to rinse off, but you open your mouth first, thoughtful when you tell him, "I loved you so much, Miche."

 "I know," he replies. Even if he couldn't see it then, he can now. You may not have told him to his face, but if Mike had been just a little smarter back then, he would have realized you were telling him in different ways. "I loved you too."

 He feels you pet his hair, probably a tangled wreck from being pulled. "I, uh…" You swallow hard, and Mike rests his chin on the hand on your chest, your heart beating against his palm a little too fast. 

 "You wanna shower before you say whatever you're about to?" 

 He knows what you're about to tell him. He just wants to make sure you don't regret it when you come back to yourself. "Yeah, probably."

 Both of you leave the bed on unsteady legs, Mike leading you to the shower and setting it to your favored temperature. He stands under the spray with you, taking the brunt of the water while kissing you. You move slowly, tangling your tongue with his, mapping out his body with exploratory hands. 

Mike is the one to break away after several minutes, insisting on soaping you up and dragging his loofah over your skin. He even sinks to his knees, gentle as he cleans your thighs and between them, careful not to get suds anywhere they're not supposed to be. When he’s finished, Mike presses a kiss to your pelvic bone before standing again, grinning when you pull him back to your face. 

 He doesn't have the same, short refractory period he used to otherwise he'd fuck you against the tiled wall, but he's content to stay like this, sucking on your lip and pressing against you. 

 Even after you've been given the chance to get your thoughts in order, you still blink up at Mike, water droplets dotting and falling from your eyelashes as you tell him, "I love you. I still love you. I don't think I can stop."

 He holds your head in his hands, brushes his nose against yours as his chest swells with more emotion than he thinks he can actually handle, and his own confession is easy: "I love you, too." Another soft peck to your lips before he adds, "I think you already knew that, though."

 "Wasn't positive."

 Mike knows there are logistics to consider, but the two of you can work on that later. For now he just wants to finish rinsing off and crawl into bed with you. 

 He should probably change the sheets, though, and find you pajamas, so Mike does exactly that as you traipse back out to the kitchen for some water, wearing absolutely nothing and making him bite his lip. 

 He puts new bedding on the mattress, then digs through his dresser for a t-shirt and boxers. Something catches his eye, printed material that almost makes him laugh out loud. He doesn't know why he still has the shorts, especially since he ruined the shirt a long, long time ago, but he's so glad he does. 

 Pink and covered in palm trees, he can't even fit into them any more, but it's fine. He thinks he knows how he can repurpose them. 

 But first, he needs to call his mom. 

 *

 It's an easy fix, really. Before the Sina project even comes close to wrapping up, Mike finds a place for you in his department, something you hadn't thought possible, but apparently he's kind of a big deal in the field. 

 When he makes you the job offer in the conference room, he's able to keep it professional for a whole three minutes before you agree to the terms, and then he's out of his chair and picking you up to swing around. Just like that, the whole fucking office knows about the two of you. 

 "Ha! You owe me fifty bucks, Moblit!" Hange shouts for everyone to hear, and you shake your head as the quiet man asks if he can Venmo them. 

 "I fucking knew it! I knew there was something going on! God, that's so satisfying. I'm not even mad that you're leaving us."

 "It's been going on for a long time now," you snort. 

 Hange leans against the wall and wriggles their eyebrows, "Yeah, what, like, the whole three months we’ve been here?" 

 "Try ten years," Mike mutters, and the eyes behind Hange's glasses nearly roll out of their head. 

 You and Mike have to sign a few things, contracts and couples disclosures and what not, but you don't mind. 

 The first thing you do is ask for a few days off in order to move, and Mike naturally does the same to help. You live just over three hours away, but are able to recruit some help in the form of your old friends. 

 You let out a shrill scream when you see Erwin step out of his car outside of your apartment complex, all but throw yourself into his arms so that he laughs and squeezes you tight against him. It's been a couple years since you've actually seen him, the distance between you just a little too far, but it's so nice to stare at his stupid face again. 

 Nile is also there with a very pregnant Marie on his arm, and Hitch and Rhi arrive as all the guys are carrying down the first load of packed boxes. 

 "Damn, it has been a long time since we've all been together," you say, looking around at everyone and grinning after you tape up another set of cardboard flaps. 

 "Yeah, kinda weird how we all just get along now," Hitch giggles. 

 "It's almost like we're adults or something," Rhi adds. 

 You pass her the box, but she just groans and passes it to Erwin. 

 Everyone takes turns making trips to Mike's apartment, and the moving effort takes three days in total. You really need to find a way to repay all of them, maybe suggest a nice dinner. 

 "God, why do you own so much shit, babe?" Mike asks after loading the last shelves of a bookcase into his car (that you still hate). 

 "Because everything has sentimental value. Don't judge me."

 "Oh, I'm judging. When'd you get so soft?"

 You roll your eyes and reach past him to close the trunk door. 

 The others are all standing in the parking lot with you, antsy and excited for the two of you, or so you assume. 

 "I really can't thank you guys enough. You've made this so much easier," you tell them. 

 Erwin grins widely and pulls you into a hug, and to your surprise, Hitch slides around you to hold you from behind. It makes you laugh and call them dumb, but when they step back, you're hit with the realization that they weren't just being goofy; they were strategizing, keeping you shielded from Mike who is now kneeling on the asphalt and chewing on his bottom lip. 

 Your eyes grow wide, and you step back only to run straight into Erwin's chest. He puts two, grounding hands on your shoulders, and you can almost feel his smile as Mike reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box. 

 A small pink box. 

 A small pink box with pieces of fucking palm trees wrapping around it. 

 "Did you get that fucking upholstered?" You shout, and Mike lets out a giddy laugh, his eyes so narrow from grinning that you can barely see the green. "I don't even wanna open it. I cannot believe—"

 "Good thing you don't have to open it then," he chuckles. “I do.”

 "You are fucking impossible, you know that?" 

 "Yeah," he agrees before prying the ridiculous box apart and revealing a ring that makes you tear up. 

 It isn't huge, but it's far from plain, sparkling stones wrapping around it with a larger, round cut in the middle. It's extremely pretty and very you, and oh, you wanna put it on, you wanna put it on right now. 

 "Don't look too impressed. Mom helped me pick it out, and it’s all ethically sourced, of course," Mike says, and you wipe your eyes while giggling. 

 "Oh my god, she's crying!" Rhi yells. 

 "Shut up, it's because of that atrocious box."

 Mike looks behind you at Erwin. "I knew she'd love it."

 "Yeah, good call, bro."

 "I hate both of you."

 "Still gonna marry me, though, right?" Mike is still grinning, but you can see the barest hint of worry in his eyes, and you can't blame him because this is big. This is commitment. Marriage. He wants you to marry him. 

 And, some will say it’s too quick, that you’ve only been actually dating for a couple of months, but it makes sense because if you’re being honest, you never really fell out of love with Mike. He’s always been nestled deep in your heart.

 "Against my better judgement," you smirk. 

 He stands up quick enough to make himself dizzy, has to brace a hand on his car as he kisses you. 

 "Finally!" Erwin shouts, clapping his hands and being joined by the others. 

 Mike slides the ring from the terrible box, pushes it onto your finger with shaky hands, and when you admire it in the sun, you look at him and nod. "Very nice, Zacharias. Even in the parking lot setting."

 "I just wanted everyone to be here! If we went somewhere fancy, you would've figured it out."

 That's true. Going to some nice restaurant or quaint little park would have definitely tipped you off. 

 "Also, you know once we're married, you will also be Zacharias."

 "Yeah," you nod thoughtfully. "Yeah, I guess I will be. Hey," you look at him with raised eyebrows. "Wanna shotgun beers at the wedding?" 

 Mike laughs loudly. "That is how it all started, isn't it?" 

 "Yeah, this stupid frat boy in a Hawaiian shirt came up to me and demanded I shotgun a room temp beer."

 "Sounds like an asshole," Mike chuckles. 

 You shrug as he pulls you into his chest and sigh into his shirt, "He turned out alright, I guess."

[gumnut-logic]

Reactions (Bit 13)

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We’re getting there ever so slowly. We have some herding of brothers to get through first.

For @soniabigcheese​ who started this one :D

-o-o-o-

From that point onwards, it was all about family.

Virgil threw himself into looking after his brothers with the same vigour he looked after his ‘bird the five days previous.

There was guilt, so much guilt. He had put himself over his brothers, ignored them even and hid away nursing his own wounds.

Gordon yelled at him about it, but Virgil was focussed on Scott. He had never seen his big brother so down. It was almost as if his fire had been extinguished.

John refused to leave orbit, determined to deploy as much energy and equipment he could into fixing this mess. Virgil let him be. For now. He had plans to later climb up into orbit himself to check on his space brother. He had no doubt the astronaut was running himself into the ground.

Alan was recovering and for lack of a better description, reminded Virgil of a pissed off terrier. Angry as all hell and willing to take on the neighbourhood great dane.

There were words.

Emotional words.

Alan continued to snarl.

But his little brother was now mobile and buzzing around the house in a hover chair. Grandma was keeping an eye on him.

Grandma was keeping an eye on all of them.

Virgil got one hell of a talking to about looking after himself and received chicken soup as punishment. At least he thought it was chicken soup. The cucumber was confusing.

Kayo was simply gone. On the other side of the planet, most likely. Virgil didn’t know exactly where. The few times she contacted the Island, he grilled her on her health status and was ignored for the most part.

Virgil worried.

About all of them.

It hit Scott the hardest. The commander saw it simply. He saw it as failure.

This was their father’s dream and somehow it had all crashed and burned. Virgil regretted his absence in those first days more and more. If he had been there to support Scott...

But he wasn’t.

He cursed himself in every language he knew.

Gordon was almost as much a concern as Scott. The aquanaut was fuming. No sorrow, no fear, just anger. He spent most of his time in contact with various people and Virgil had the urge to ask John to monitor his fish brother’s communications in case he was planning a world coup of some kind.

But as the days wore on the picture of exactly what was happening did become clearer.

The scathing media continued. Jack reported in almost daily, apparently his entire practice had been mobilised across several attack fronts. They were winning several, but the battle appeared to be a long one.

One of the worst moments was when a hurricane hit the Bahamas and Florida. IR was refused deployment, no matter what angle John tried. The astronaut directed calls to emergency services as best he could, even called in a few Tracy favours from the Jacksonville plant of Tracy Industries, their machinery switching to emergency supplies and relief production to help the people in the beleaguered cities to the south, but even that received a rebuttal. The head of GDF communications cut into IR frequencies and demanded Thunderbird Five cease interference.

Virgil had never heard John so angry.

Scott was as cold as the Arctic. “Do as they ask.”

“Scott-“

“Do as they ask!” Blue eyes like ice, Scott’s expression was stone.

So, theoretically, Five stood down.

Virgil was on the elevator within the half hour.

Eos pummelled him with questions all the way through the stratosphere and into space. John had stopped answering apparently, so she was looking for another Tracy to help.

Virgil stepped onto a silent Five.

“Where is he, Eos?”

“Communications hub. I honestly don’t understand, Virgil. Why would they do this? John is trying to help.”

Virgil’s lips thinned as he strode to the airlock that separated the gravity ring from the central hub. John had to know he was there, yet, there was no greeting, no acknowledgement.

Virgil drifted through the lock to find that Five had most certainly not shut down.

His brother floated in a sea of information. Aunt Val’s picture cruised past. Another document with the GDF logo at the top darted over Virgil’s head as his brother threw it across the room.

“Eos, I need the results from breach fifty-nine.”

“Not until you rest.” Eos’ voice was determined. “And now I have Virgil to help me look after you.”

Turquoise flickered in the engineer’s direction. “Virgil.” It was a greeting and a dare all rolled into one.

“What are you doing, John?”

His astronaut brother wove code with one hand while reaching for a document with the word ‘classified’ stamped across its header. “Exactly what you suspect I’m doing, no doubt.”

“John, I thought we had an agreement.”

“You thought you did. I’m only doing what needs to be done.” The coding hand finished something off and with a swipe sent it on its way.

It was replaced with a scroll of information, rapidly accumulating in a simulated pile.

John smiled thinly at it before turning to face his brother.

“What do you want, Virgil?”

If Virgil had been in a gravity affected situation, he would have taken a step back. As it was, he hadn’t gotten his space legs quite yet and was reduced to a half-strangled gasp.

John was ever so pale, his eyes little more than caverns, his usually perfect hair looked limp and straggly, hanging down over his face.

“Have you slept at all?!”

“I’m doing what needs to be done.” His brother returned to juggling information.

A beat and an incoming comm flashed up. “Johnny, Brandy says the orders have come down. The launch is set for next week. We should tell Scott.”

Virgil blinked.

A swipe of his hand and John answered. “No need, Gordon. You’ve just told Virgil.” A pause. “And don’t call me ‘Johnny’.”

The aquanaut startled as, no doubt, Virgil’s image appeared in his office alongside John. “Oh.” A shrug. “Hey, Virg. Whatcha doin’ up there?”

“What are you doing, Gordon?”

“What needs to be done.”

“And what exactly is that?”

“Saving International Rescue. After all, ‘saving’ is what we do, isn’t it, Virgil? We don’t sit on the side-lines while people die.” The aquanaut poked at something out of transmission range. “Johnny, you gonna brief our big brother or let him dob us into Scott and tackle both explosions at once?”

“Gordon…” John’s voice spoke of exhaustion. “I will handle this.”

“FAB. Sending you Brandy’s report.” Another document flashed up, this one with the WASP logo at the top.

Hell.

Gordon’s hologram held his stare for a moment before blinking out.

“John?” Virgil put every bit of big brother he had into the name. He wasn’t Scott, but he hoped he was enough.

The astronaut sighed.

“General Strom has commissioned a new rescue force for the GDF.” John waved a hand and an array of aircraft and equipment appeared, floating in the recycled air. “They’ve called it ‘World Rescue’ and on the surface it appears legitimate. Brains is even impressed with some of the technology.”

Brains? Brains was in on this as well?

Virgil eyed the largest ship in the list. It was no Thunderbird Two, but it appeared formidable. “They don’t have our technology.”

John frowned. “No, they don’t…yet.”

Virgil mirrored his brother’s expression. “What?”

Another sigh and John flicked through a series of documents. “Lady Amelia traced the source of the equipment to a project initiated about the same time we lost Dad. It appears that even then, these people had their eyes on us.”

“But why? Running a rescue organisation is not a money-making exercise. We both know that from experience.”

“It is if you are the only one.”

“But-“

A hand caught his shoulder and Virgil’s eyes widened. John was definitely tired if he was reaching out. “Even if they don’t charge for the service, the GDF will gain popularity. Our popularity, Virgil. We have a huge fan following. You know this.”

“But that is just for fun!”

“Virgil, popularity is the key. That list of our weaknesses is also a list of our strengths. The GDF’s popularity has been inversely proportional to ours. We’re stealing their thunder, literally. This has led to budget cuts and a drop in recruitment. They’ve lost money because of us.”

Virgil blinked.

“They want it back.” As Virgil continued to stare, John swallowed. “But that is only part of the equation.” John let go of Virgil’s shoulder. “The call for expressions of interest is a farce. They have a launch planned for the first fleet next week.”

“Next week?”

“To capitalise on our negative press. The world is calling for a replacement service and they are answering.”

“We’re being replaced.”

“By Jim Lucas and Robotics Industries. Eos has found connections between Lucas and Wainwright. Lucas went to college with her. Strond is the only part of this equation we haven’t been able to fully clarify. His is the position responsible for the project funding. Lady Amelia is working on it.” John’s shoulders dropped.

“You need sleep.”

“Virgil, this is important. Aunt Val is in the firing line because of us.” A frustrated sound. “Because of me.”

Virgil drew in a breath. He knew that their Aunt had turned a blind eye for them on several occasions, particularly where John’s fingers had poked into certain pies that perhaps they shouldn’t have. But John only did that to save lives. Aunt Val knew that. She was their support within the GDF and she took that position seriously.

Even Virgil knew enough to know that was why she had been removed from the picture.

Scott had been in contact. Had thrown Jack at her. Tracy money was doing its best to dig her out of the hole they had dug for her.

“She wouldn’t want you killing yourself over this.” Virgil kicked off the wall gently and caught his brother by his arm. “C’mon, John.”

“Virgil, get off me.” John wriggled in his grip.

The holographic display suddenly shut off, leaving the hub a bleak grey. “You’re not doing any more work, John. I have Five under control. Attend to your bodily needs.”

John pushed him away and Virgil let him. A turquoise glare hit him between the eyes.

“I can look after myself.” He glanced at the camera beside the airlock. “Just let me be. Both of you.”

“I tried that and look what happened.” The AI was defiant.

“Eos, turn the hub back on.”

“No.”

“Eos!”

“No! Listen to your brother, if you won’t listen to me. You need sleep and food. Your vitals are a mess.”

Virgil set himself. John could be as stubborn as the rest of them, and as slippery as an eel. “It can wait, John. You either sleep up here, or I drag you downstairs and you can deal with Scott.” Who was just as bad, but John didn’t need to know that.

“Virgil-“

“No, John. Food, then sleep. If Scott isn’t enough of a threat, I have a direct line to Grandma. Don’t think for one second that twenty-two thousand kilometres is enough to keep her out of your hair.”

Turquoise lit on fire. “Fine.”

Virgil wrapped an arm around his brother. “And after we will look at what we can do.”

John just grunted at him.

Virgil drew him closer and led him from the hub.

-o-o-o-

 Next

[nightowlfandom]

Yandere! School! Jeon Jungkook- Be My Muse (Part 1)

Leggo

...

“He’s staring at you again.” 

You were on a park bench, eating lunch with your friend Lisa (I love blackpink leave me alone.) It was lunch hour at school, and everyone loved to come outside and bask in the perfect weather.

“Who?” you looked up from your lunchbox which you’ve yet to open. 

“Jeon Jungkook.” she chortled. “Everyone knows he has the hugest crush on you.”

“He does not.” you shook your head. 

“He does too.” she replied. “He’s just really shy from what I know. He spends all his time in the art room just in his own head.” you followed her gaze to the shyest boy in your class, pencil moving swiftly against the pages of what you could only assume was his sacred sketchbook he loved to carry everywhere. 

“It’s not nice to assume things.” you shook your head. “Jungkook is a shy boy, that doesn’t mean he likes me.” you scoffed. 

“Then why does he always stare at you?”

“Maybe I smell weird.” you shrugged. “You never know.”

Jungkook was the quiet, mysterious type. He always seemed to be alone with his nose buried in a book. The were rumors that he had a huge crush on you. A few girls would come up to you and saw they saw him drawing you in his sketchbooks. There was even a rumor that he used you as a subject for a big art project. You thought he was pretty adorable, but whenever you would wave or say hi, he’d turn away or ignore you completely.

“Incoming.” Lisa sighed. You followed her gaze to see Jino and his gang of friends walking up to Jungkook. Jino was the biggest jerk you’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting, ever in the history of...ever/His friends were no better. They were part of the Tae Kwan Do club and assumed that because they were strong in that aspect, they were better than...well just about everyone.

“Oh no.” you sighed. “What are they gonna do now?” you glared just as Jino purposely knocked Jungkook’s book out of his hands. You just kept observing.

“Dicks.” Lisa groaned. “Should we do something?”

“I don’t kn-” you cut yourself off when you saw another of one Jino’s friends snatch Jungkook’s bag of the floor and dump it’s contents on the ground.

“You stay here, I’ll yell if I need backup.” You shook your head, grabbing your things to prepare to walk over.

“Y/N!” Lisa tried to call, but you had already began walking over.

“Well well, Hey Y/N. “ Jino winked as you walked up. “Come to watch the show?”

“Completely harassing an innocent boy is a show to you?” you raised an eyebrow. Jungkook quietly knelt down onto the floor to try to get his stuff together.

“Aw babe, we’re just having fun! Isn’t that right, Jeon?” Jino nudged Jungkook with his foot.

“Leave him alone, Jino.” you scoffed. “He hasn’t done anything to you.” you crossed your arms. “Just because he isn’t an asshole like you doesn’t mean you have to be a jerk all the damn time.” you bent down to help Jungkook pick up what was previously knocked out of his hands.

“Y/N, come on. We’re only messing around.” Jino waved it off. HIs friend seemed to be laughing and carrying on. “He knows it’s a joke.”

“Is that true, Jungkook?” you looked at the young man, tilting your head to the side. Without looking at you, he nodded, still trying to scramble together and pick up his books. “Hey.” you put a gentle hand on his shoulder, making him freeze. 

Jungkook slowly looked up to meet your gaze. His eyes were red like he had been crying a lot. He was shaking as well. 

“Is that true?” you repeated as you held onto the spine of one of his books. He looked away from you again, but this time he shook his head.

“N-no.” he whispered. “It’s not.” You could hear his voice crack and it almost broke your heart. 

“Just like I thought.” you grumbled, about to stand.

“P-please...don’t-” he began. “You’ll only make it worse.”

“You shush.” you pointed at him before standing to your feet. “Jino, I think you owe Jungkook an apology.”

“AYE-YA! For what!? I said we were just playing.” he rolled his eyes. “Not my fault he can’t take a joke.”

“Dumping his fucking backpack on the floor isn’t a joke, you moron.” you snapped. “Don’t you have an exam to fail?” you huffed, putting a hand on your hip.

“Damn, Y/N, I thought you were cool.” he shook his head, turning to walk off. “Count your prayers that she was here to save you, next time you won’t be so lucky.” 

“Asshole.” you scoffed, glaring at his back as he walked away. You turned back to face Jungkook who was standing up. “You okay?”

“Y-yes. Thank you.” he stuttered. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Jino is a Grade A asshole with a Grade F intelligence level, he has no room to bully you or anyone else.” you crossed your arms. Your little jab at Jino caused Jungkook to crack the smallest smile. “You have a nice smile.”

“I do?” he asked, his cheeks turning bright pink.

“Hey, do you wanna eat lunch with me tomorrow?” you suddenly asked. 

“Me? What about your friend?” You turned around and saw Lisa peeling the crusts off her sandwich where you two had been sitting.

“I’ll let her know I got plans. What do you say?” you put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Um...Y-yes.” Jungkook nodded. 

“Perfect!”

... (Next Day)

“Hey!” you caught up to Jungkook the next day.

“Hm?” Jungkook looked surprised to see you. “Y/N...”

“Hey! Sorry I’m late. My teacher wanted to talk to me about a project. Can I sit?” 

“Oh, Um, yeah!” A wide smile spread onto Jungkook’s face as he made room for you to sit on the bench. “I was beginning to think you were in on Jino’s joke and were gonna bail on me.” he said sheepishly. You raised an eyebrow, confused as to why he would think that. Anyone who knew you knew good and well you hated Jino’s guts.

“Never.” you shook your head. “You don’t have lunch?”

“No.” he shook his head, looking down. “I’m so used to it being taken, I stopped bringing it.”

“What?” You opened your lunchbox. “Here, take half my sandwich.”

“No, I couldn’t.” he shook his head.

“Please?” You pouted. “It’s not fair that you have to suffer all day.” You held out your half of the sandwich. “It’s ham and cheese.”

“...Thank you.” Jungkook smiled a little, taking the sandwich. 

You tried your best to ignore the weird stares you got from the other students who passed by. You casually bit into your food, sighing contently. “This is nice.”

“Um, Y/N? Why did you want to eat lunch with me?” He asked, getting your attention. “Be honest, please?”

“Because I don’t think it’s fair that people make fun of you.” you shrugged. “I think you’d make a pretty awesome friend.” you nudged him. 

“Really? You mean it?” you saw Jungkook’s face brighten up. 

“Yeah.” you chuckled, finishing your sandwich. “Is that your sketchbook?” you noticed a black, hardcover book 

“Oh, yeah.” he said sheepishly.

“Can I see?” you asked.

“It’s a little embarrassing.” he groaned, grabbing the book.

“I won’t laugh! I promise.” you put a hand on his knee. 

Jungkook’s heart tightened, as soon as you put your hand on his knee, his heart began to race a million miles an hour. It wasn’t enough that you showed him kindness the day before, but now you two seemed close. 

“O-Okay.” he reluctantly gave you the sketchbook. “Just...don’t laugh.”

“I won’t, I prom-” You stopped just as you opened the book. “Is this supposed to be me?” you asked, stopping at this picture of a girl who was laying down, covered in roses. “And this one?” you giggled as you saw a couple. The male in the picture was carrying a girl on his back, both wearing matching clothes. “This is so cute.” you breathed. 

“Really? You don’t think it’s weird?” he looked a little surprised. 

“Of course not, you’re amazing.” you handed him back his sketchbook. “Really.”

“No, um...you can look at it more.” you could see his ears go bright red. He peeked over your shoulder, watching you flip the pages more. You noticed one in particular, drawn in what seemed to be dark red ink. It was another picture of a girl who particularly looked like you. As you kept flipping, you kept seeing pictures of you. You even saw one that looked like you and Lisa on the day you first helped him. 

“You really have an eye for detail.” you chuckled. “You’re really-” you looked up to notice Jungkook really close to your face. “amazing.” you repeated. You closed the book and handed it to him. 

“I have a pretty great muse to work off.” he said quietly. This time it was your turn to heat up. “Y/N, would you maybe like to...” he trailed off. “I mean you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Jungkook what are you trying to say?” You raised an eyebrow. 

“Um...maybe you would want to, go on a date? With me?” he didn’t look at you. “You don’t have to! I just-”

“Yes.” you cut him off. “Yeah, totally.”

“Really?” Jungkook had looked more expressive than he ever had before. A huge smile spread across his face. “You will!?”

“Mhm!” you nodded. “How about tomorrow?”

“Y-yeah.” he nodded just as fast. ‘I’ll pick you up and-”

“Perfect!” You stood up. “Meet me after school!”

(To Be Continued!)

Hey everyone! This is to make up for me not posting yesterday. There was no smut in this part, but there will be in the next soooo yah!

[thran-duils]

Watch Me Burn (P.4)

Title: Watch Me Burn (Part Four) Summary: Fem!Reader x AU!Cas. Fem!Reader x AU!Sam. This fic was inspired by both parts of “Love the Way You Lie” by Eminem & Rihanna. Castiel and the reader are toxic for each other and keep falling back together until the reader moved away. It’s been years and now she is back home, waltzing back into Castiel’s life. She is determined to do better this time, to make them work, but outside forces as well as the scars the two have left on each other weave their way into their reconciliation. Will they be able to overcome the past and new threats to their sustainability? Words: 1,984 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Extreme angst, domestic violence, smut, unprotected sex, dom/sub dynamics, BDSM trust breaking, fluff, language, alcohol abuse, !!! eventual !!! happiness Author’s Note: Italics are the past!

Chap 3 || Chap 5 || Masterpost (mobile) || Fic masterpost

Sighing loudly, you pushed yourself away from the bathroom sink. Luckily, you had been able to sneak into the bathroom before anyone intercepted you when you walked into the office and were able to apply your makeup. You had woken up late and could not miss the incoming bus, otherwise you would have been late to your job. And you could also not afford to lose this job; it was a huge opportunity for you, especially without having a graduate degree.

Makeup tucked into your purse again, you left the bathroom ready to go to your desk now.

Turning the corner, to walk through the door into your office, you came to an abrupt stop seeing Sam, a junior partner of the company, standing there. He had been over your shoulder from the moment you had walked into the office months ago. He was not subtle about his advancements towards you and you had found ways to politely ignore them. It had not proven successful in deterring him yet though. You were on the fence about jumping into something so soon after moving here and especially with a coworker. He was handsome, yes, and had money. But there was something… off.

He blocked your way, his hand planted on the door and his arm barring you from going forward. You were forced to look up at him and he smiled down at you in response.

“So… how are you today, Y/N?”

You felt pressured to answer his question. “Tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Hmm, couldn’t tell by looking at you,” he told you. You felt blush coming to your cheeks. “You found your gym yet you were looking for?”

Small talk.

Nodding, you said, “Yes. On Guadalupe Street. I got the membership a couple weeks ago, but I haven’t managed to get there yet.” He raised his eyebrows expectantly and you explained, “I’ve been busy. The deadline is tomorrow for my project.”

“Ah, that does dig into your personal time. Hopefully you’ll be able to get some rest after that is done and submitted.”

You nodded again, smiling softly. Highly doubtful considering the rat race this place had set you in but you could hope.

Sam’s eyes fell to your dress. “Valentino?” He questioned.

You forced a smile, “No. No. Can’t quite afford that.”

Sam reached out, touching the fabric at your elbow and traced his fingers down. Your breath hitched, uncomfortable that he felt the permission to cross that boundary but… simultaneously, your eyes locking with his made your stomach flutter. His eyes were alight, taking you in and when they met yours, his lips curled up into a small, satisfied smirk.

“Well, wherever you got it, it looks the part.”

You would not dare tell him you picked it up at Goodwill.

“You seem to have an eye for the fashionable and expensive…” He leaned in closer. “If you play your cards right, you may always be able to afford both.”

His gaze was piercing, his lips parted slightly, watching you to see how you reacted. It was a game to him, seeing what the key would be to getting you open up to him. You did not want to insinuate that the door would be closed forever, leave a sliver of hope.

With a little laugh, you said, “Let’s hope I am that smart.”

<>  <> <>

“It is quite a different atmosphere.”

Charlie reached across the table to grab the salt back from you. Mouth full, she asked, “What was it like there in Austin, then?”

Exhaling, you told her, “Stifling.” You picked up your fork and took a bite of your lunch.

Charlie snorted, “The heat or the misogyny?” You shot her a look of surprise and she outright laughed this time. “Oh, Y/N. I’ve visited the office. I know how the men are down there. And trust me, they all think they have the right dick to ‘turn me straight’.”

“O-oh,” you stammered, balking at her comment.

She laughed again, waving you off. “Sorry, I’m too candid sometimes with my feelings. But that has been my experience down there. And I would be damned if they ever asked me to transfer. I much prefer it here and I am not ashamed to say because Tara is my boss, and she doesn’t feel the need to try to hit on me. Granted, she is married to a wonderful woman so that might have something to do with it, but I digress.”

“No. No, I know what you mean…” you trailed off, staring down at your plate. You had dreamt about Sam again last night and had woken up feeling sick. You simply told Castiel you had a nightmare and he had rubbed your back before getting up to make you some eggs while you showered.

“That why you left? If you don’t mind me asking.”

You slipped back, memory flashing.

The night was warm, humid. You had dressed accordingly, wearing a maxi, wrap dress.

You were sitting next to Sam, a few drinks in. You had inched closer and closer to him as the night wore on. He was a gravity – sinking into him was a weight, not an anchor. But it was still luring you in, coaxing you to descend. You had always been attracted to the depths and god forbid you would go against your nature now.

Sam leaned in, his mouth close to your ear, sending shivers through you. “Mind getting us a refill? I feel like these shenanigans are going to go on for a while.”

He was, of course, referring to the ultimately boring stories being shared between other coworkers.

You turned your head, your face unbearably close to his. Your lips were merely inches apart. His cologne encompassed you, forcing you to focus all more clearly on his hazel eyes boring into you, waiting expectantly for you to respond.

“Of course,” you whispered.

His lips curled into a smile. “That’s a team player.”

Refraining from letting out a laugh, trying to let go of the sexual tension that had just coiled itself tightly deep inside, you finished what was left of your drink. Standing up, you meant to turn around to hold your hand out for his glass but were stilled. You felt a hand at your ass, gripping ever so slightly and ghosting the rest of the way. You turned back now, looking back down at Sam still sitting there.

He merely returned your pointed look with a wink and a sultry smile as he brought the glass to his mouth, finishing it in one gulp. He reached up, holding it to you, to fetch him another drink.

“Y/N?”

You snapped back to reality.

Charlie was looking at you expectantly and you quickly remembered she had asked you a question.

“Oh, right. Yes. Um, partially? I also wanted to be home.”

“With your man?” She teased, taking another bite of her burrito.

“That wasn’t a set-in stone thing.”

“But it seems to have worked out.”

“It has so far…”

“Anything you want to talk about? You seemed lost when I asked you about the shit there.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… me talking about the rampant sexism and you agreeing but then dodging the question. And floating off into space for a couple moments, lost to your thoughts, like I said.”

“Oh… well… you know…”

Charlie shrugged, “I mean, I do. But I also know from a different perspective. They knew they were not going to realistically bed me. They could imagine it and dream for it – I am quite dreamy – but it was not going to happen. But you… you, Y/N. You were attainable. I can’t imagine the difference in treatment.”

“It wasn’t anything I haven’t dealt with before. It was tiresome at times but I got through it.” You cleared your throat and asked, changing the subject, “Would you like to come to the bar? Hang out with us?”

Slapping her hand on the table, Charlie exclaimed dramatically, “I have been dying for you to ask, Y/N.” You laughed at her theatrics. “You don’t know how hard it is to make friends in this city. Especially being a transplant. Yes. Of course, I will.”

<> <> <>

“He’s cute!” Charlie told you over the game blaring over the loudspeakers in the bar.

She had gotten more and more outspoken about how much she adored you and Castiel together the more she drank. Not that you minded really, you welcomed the validation. Proving you had made one right choice so far in your life despite all the missteps you and Castiel had had before.

“I thought you didn’t like men,” you teased.

She gave you a light shove and took another sip of her drink. “Oh, come off it. You know I can still appreciate human beauty. Plus, he looks like a rock star. And that’s got to be fun to be riding.”

“Oh, seriously?” you gasped, shooting her an incredulous look.

“He can’t keep his eyes off of you.”

“That’s nothing new.”

“Full of ourselves, are we?”

“Always.”

Her eyes traveled around the bar, taking in the décor. Castiel had an eclectic taste but that is what made his bar his bar. You had helped him pick out a lot of the wall art and it had warmed you when you had come back that he had not taken them down out of spite or mourning.

“He’s owned this place for a while then?”

“Yeah. Before we even met.”

“You mean, you willingly gave this place up? I mean it, Y/N. You got this bar and then an apartment above. You can get drunk as you want and then escape to your bed so close. Plus, you’ve got him.”

Castiel smiled at you from across the bar, giving you a little wave that you returned. Your attention fell to the hallway where the locked door was leading up to the stairs to his place. Yes, you could escape up there whenever you wanted to, imbibe as much as you wanted without worrying about getting home.

Or sneak back down here to indulge…

“What do you mean you don’t want me to go back downstairs?” Castiel’s voice echoed, scornfully.

You reached out, grabbing his arm, “Cas, don’t. You’ll have to replace the alcohol!”

Castiel yanked his arm away and argued, “It’s just going to be one drink!”

“That’ll turn into five!”

“Stop being such a fucking buzzkill, Y/N.”

“You would stop me too. Come on, don’t be a fucking idiot, Cas.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Castiel snapped, shoving you away from him and turning to go back towards the bedroom.

You sucked your teeth, pissed off he had laid hands on you, yet again. But, if it stopped him from going to indulge more on his own stock downstairs… and god knows he had stopped you from doing the same countless times too.

“You love him.” It was a statement, not a question and it drew you from the past. Charlie was smirking at you knowingly, a bright light in her eyes. She nodded when she saw your tight smile and no rebuttal to her point. “You do. Or otherwise you would not have risked coming back here, without any concrete plans.”

Swallowing sharply, you chanced looking up over at the bar again without trying to look desperate for his attention, watching Castiel interact with the customers. His smile was wide, and you wished you could kiss the corners of his mouth, slowly coming to envelope him to you.

“Yes,” you breathed, knowing that Charlie would catch it. She was listening intently. “Yes, I do.”

“Then I for one, am happy for you,” she declared. “And I’m glad you came back up here too. Come, raise your glass.” You amused her, and she held up hers in return, beaming. “Cheers!”

You smiled in return, clinking yours to hers. “Cheers.”

~~~

CASTIEL FOREVER TAGS: @willowing-love @perseusandmedusa @greenappleeyes @afanofmanystuffs @earthtokace @shikaros-blog @marisayouass @splendidcas

[cozykhaos]

A New Sun. Part 2

The day dragged as usual and it wasn’t until after lunch that I was summoned to the sixth floor, the executive offices. I took the elevator up, and it opened to a large open room. It was a whole different world up here. The flooring was dark gray concrete with sparkling inlays, a crystal chandelier hung in the middle of the room, there weren’t any windows, but an entire wall phased through scenes. Cherry blossoms in Japan, the mountains, the ocean. On and on it went, soft music playing in the background.

“Ma’am?” A brunette woman looked at me from behind a desk.

“Yes, sorry, that’s just really – “My voice trailed off as a scene of a crystal-clear lake appeared.

“Beautiful, right?”

“Very,” I bounced a little on the balls of my feet, nerves getting the best of me.

“Kit! In here please” Diane poked her head out of an office to my left. She disappeared, and the door shut once again.

The brunette frowned. “Go on in I guess.”

I entered the room, beside Diane was a handsome man I had never met before. He towered above me, even with his authority stance of his legs parted at shoulder length, arms crossed in front of him. He had a strong jaw that was shadowed with black stubble, he had a full head of thick black hair and deep brown eyes. His shirt, even though collared with a tie, was short sleeves and his olive skin glowed from being outside. I glanced over at Diane who had put on makeup today, her cheeks were rosy, lips cakey with too much lipstick. From where she was standing behind the man, she was clearly checking out his ass. Good for you Diane, good for you.

“Hi, Miss McKenzie my name is Thomas,” he flashed a smile of perfectly straight white teeth and extended his hand. I shook it and flashed a smile of my own. “Nice to meet you.”

He moved behind his desk and motioned for me to have a seat, Diane shifted nervously in her spot, still standing.

“Miss McKenzie, I know there was an issue yesterday with a –“ He paused and looked over the paper work. “Mr. Anthony Lynell, he called in and placed a complaint about you. Your first one since you started working here. That’s rather impressive.”

I didn’t respond, Thomas cleared his throat and continued. “I have reviewed the audio tapes of Mr. Lynell’s conversation with you and Miss Gould and have come to determine that he was the one out of line.”

I relaxed and handed out a folder that I had brought with me. “I did a little bit of research, in case this didn’t go well for Lauren and I. Mr. Lynell has a profile with us and the notes that have been documented are very concerning. He has been aggressive with numerous employees. Name calling, threats. He apparently tried to beat one of the service technicians with a cowboy boot. I’m surprised he hasn’t been brought to a supervisor’s attention before,” I handed over the folder and Thomas thumbed through it, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. Diane shifted in her still standing position, was that sweat I spotted on her upper lip?

“This is very good work Miss McKenzie. I’m going to make sure I reach out to Mr. Lynell myself and let him know we will no longer be doing any sort of work for him.”

“But-“ Diane started. Thomas raised a hand, silencing my boss, then leaned forward. “I have been reviewing your file with us Miss McKenzie, I’m very impressed. When you started here you were right out of high school and working in the warehouse. Where you came up with a new process on getting new service vans set up. Before it would take us weeks to get a new van out to the field. Your process changed that to matter of days. You were then sent to warranty where you climbed into a management position in just a year and you were going to college full time. That’s where you have been the last 4 years. Our customer service scores are the highest they have ever been, and we haven’t missed a 24-hour deadline in the time you’ve been there.” He leaned back in his chair. “How would you like to be our new Humane Resource Manager?”

“But Thomas –“Diane started but she was cut off by another raised hand.

“Diane, we are all done here, you may leave,” Thomas nodded towards the door. Diane stared at him, mouth hanging open. Finally, after a tense minute Thomas got up, placing his hand on her lower back he led her to the door.

“Sorry about that,” Thomas spoke as he sat back down. “You don’t have to say yes right away, I understand it’s a lot to drop on you,” he slid a packet of paper work my way. “Look it over and see what you think, get with me in the next couple of days, my extension is listed as your point of contact,” he flashed another smile.

“Wow, uhm thank you!” I finally managed to get out. “I will back to you.”

The smile stayed as he watched me, I wonder how long he could keep it plastered on his face. I shook his hand again another round of “nice to meet you,” and I was making my way back to elevator after a wave to the brunette. Once inside I leaned against the back wall and stared at the double doors, some part of me was screaming to take the elevator to the bottom floor and start running. But this was a huge opportunity, I called this job my big girl job, but the promotion was a full-on adult job. I flipped through the paper work finding the salary and let out a low whistle, I’d be making more than double my yearly income now. The doors opened to my floor and the thought hit me, I’d be stuck here.

I set myself on autopilot and finished out the rest of my day. As soon as I left the front doors, I dialed my dad.

“Hello Sunshine!” He greeted me.

“Hey dad,” I forced a smile onto my face, hoping it came through my voice.

“What’s wrong?” Apparently, the smile didn’t work. I explained to him what had happened over the last two days and the offer that was on the table. “That’s great news, why do you sound so bummed out?”

The smile cracked, and the tears welled up in my eyes. “I hate it their dad.”

“No no, don’t cry Sunshine,” he soothed. “It’s going to be alright, do you want to meet up for dinner and we can talk about it?”

“No, it’s okay. I’m going to go home and try to unwind and calm down. How about tomorrow?”

“What is tomorrow, Friday?”

“Friday.” I confirmed

“I’ll meet you at Cal’s at 6:30?” He asked.

“It’s a date!” We said our goodbyes as I opened the front door.

I started the tub and threw my work clothes into my laundry basket. I went back to the tub and dropped in a bath bomb. I had a pillow that was for the bath that I had received as a Christmas gift a few years ago. I had thrown it in my closet and forgotten about it. After looking under a pile of clothes, a few gift bags, and an old photo album, I found the pillow still in its original box.

“Hah!” I cried out in triumph, doing a little dance when my toe stubbed something. After a string of curses, I looked down at want had assaulted me, a memory box. My mother had given it to me when I had graduated high school, since then I have only pulled it out a handful of times to add something to its collection. I brought it into the bathroom and set it on the toilet seat, I quickly installed the pillow at the back of the tub then submerged myself. I pulled the lid off the box and started looking through the contents. A piece of petrified wood from a beach trip with my dad, a program from Lost in Yonkers that I saw last year. I kept riffling through, there was something in here that was calling out to me, finally I found it, my fingers tingling as I touched the envelope. A letter my grandfather had left me, sealed with a purple wax stamp. Fingers shaking, I opened the letter and read:

My darling Kit,

If you are reading this, you must be in dire need of change.

The same thing happened to me, long ago. I’d lost sight over what mattered most in life… real connections with other people and nature. So, I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong.

I’ve enclosed the deed to that place… My pride and joy: Eos Farm. It’s located in Stardew Valley, on the Southern Coast, it’s a great place to start your new life.

This was my most precious gift of all, and now it’s yours. I know you will honor the family name, my Sunshine. Good luck.

Love, Grandpa.

I don’t know when I started crying, but the tears fell freely, and my shoulders shook. I folded the letter back up and placed it in the box. I slid into the hot water a hiccup escaping. My mind raced a mile a minute, I submerged myself under the water, my long red hair spreading out around me. I held my breath for as long as I could, counting the seconds, 14, 15, 16 … 25, 26, 27, 28, finally my lungs couldn’t take it anymore and I popped back up.

I had gone to the Valley as a teenager, I hadn’t been happy about it at first. I wanted to spend time with my friends, going to the beach, having sleep overs, going shopping. But dad insisted, saying that it would be good for me. He wasn’t wrong.

I spent my summer with grandpa, learning about the farm. Waking up at 6am to start watering, pulling weeds, and chopping wood. I would spend my afternoons in town with a group of the other teenagers that I had made friends with. We spent out afternoons on the beach, Abbigail, one of the local girls I had met, with purple hair, kind eyes and a sunny smile, we would run down the pier, hand-in-hand, jumping, the ocean rising up to meet us., Sam, who’s hair was long and down to his shoulders, with too much energy and Sebastian, his black hair short, fingers always tapping against the side of his leg. There were other teenagers in town about our age, but it was usually the four of us. How long had it been since I talked to them? Abby had reached out to me numerous times over the years, but I always at work, or in the middle of a project for work. Eventually the text and phone calls stopped. In fact, they had stopped from all my friends. I went on facebook, scrolling through my timeline, they were still out there. Living their lives, finding that perfect work/life balance. While their lives continued, dating, getting married, having babies, going out on weekends, I was frozen in place. Frozen in Joja Corporation limbo.

Grabbing my phone off the side of the tub again I dialed my dad. He picked on the second ring. “Everything okay, Sunshine?”

“I’m moving to Stardew Valley.”

I went into work Friday and let them know I was leaving. I didn’t give an explanation, just handed in the note and walked out. It felt good walking out the front door of Joja for the last time. My dad was at my apartment when I got home, moving boxes at the ready. It took the majority of Friday and the weekend to sort out things. I had to call the Mayor, Lewis to let him know I was coming, the old man sounded excited and let me know things would be set up by Monday when I arrived. I got rid of my Joja Corp clothes which were all business casual, I wouldn’t be needing them on the farm. I brought my pots and pans, packed up my computer and consoles. A lot would be going to my dad’s house, the farm house was small. From what I remember there was only two rooms. The main room and the bathroom, the main room had a small kitchenette, fireplace, table and a bed.

I didn’t like the idea of downsizing and I refused to leave my computer desk behind, I would find a place for it. Early on Monday morning I handed over the keys to my dad, since I owned the apartment, we had decided we would rent it out. We stopped at McDonald’s to get breakfast on our way out of town, then spent the next 3 hours of the drive bantering back and forth about the farm. My grandfather had passed away just after I graduated high school and the farm had been abandoned ever since. Dad had decided to come with me, he knew there was going to be a lot of work to get done. Despite that he was only in his 50’s he had been retired for a while now. He had served his 20 years in the military and then retired, doing odd jobs around town as a handyman.

               A smiling red head waved us down as we approached the bus stop. “Mayor Lewis sent me out here to welcome you while he finishes getting things ready.”

I smiled and opened the door, scooting over the middle, Robin pulled herself into the cab and shut the door. “Hey, Kit. Good to see you again sweetie!” She gave me an awkward one-armed hug. “It might be tough to get the truck in, I’m warning you now,” she said with a grimace.

“Robin! Thanks for meeting us. Is it that bad?” I looked at her. Robin scrunched up her nose and nodded. Oh boy.

No matter what Robin said, nothing could have prepared me for the state of the farm. We were jostled around in the cab of the truck as we bummed over fallen branches and stones.

Lewis existed the house, taking off his hat he waved at us.

“Holy shit,” I breathed out, earning a giggle from Robin.

“Sure, it is a bit overgrown, but there is some good soil underneath this mess!” Robin said as she hopped out of the truck. I caught my dad’s face out of the corner of my eye as he rounded the truck. It was the same as mine, mouth open, green eyes wide. “With a little dedication you’ll have it cleaned up in no time!”

“Kit!” Lewis walked over to us, making sure to step lightly on the groaning porch steps. He gathered me up in his arms giving me a hug. “It’s so good to see you again!” He held me at arm’s length.

“Hi Lewis,” I beamed up to him. “I’m glad to be back. Even though the circumstances kinda suck.”

He laughed. “They do kinda suck.”

My dad cleared his throat as he looked up at the house. “Very… rustic,” he chimed in.

“That’s one way to put it,” Robin snorted. “Crusty might be more appropriate.”

Mayor Lewis bristled. “Don’t listen to her! She’s just trying to get you to buy one of her house upgrades!” Robin glared at the old man and playfully slapped his arm. Lewis turned his attention to my dad. “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting.”

Dad shook his head. “I’m James, Kit’s dad. I dropped her off in the summer. But I usually just had her practice tucking and rolling then went on my merry way.”

Robin erupted into a fit of laughter.

“It’s nice to finally meet you. We should get going, you’ve probably already had a long day and will want to start unpacking.” Both started to go but Robin doubled back. Lewis hung out on the edges of the farm waiting for her.

“The kids wanted to come by today, I told them to wait until tomorrow. Figured you would be overwhelmed,” she waved before joining Lewis again.

Once it was just to two of us again, I finally looked out across the acres of land. It was a wasteland with broken branches, trees slouched over from past storms, the earth looking as if it had been chewed up and spit out.

“What have I done?” I sank down to the ground, dad sat next to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

“You haven’t done anything yet. We are just getting started.”

I looked at him and gave him a weak smile.

[luniellar]

It’s You: 01 (Eternal Sunshine)

A/N: Meep. Constructive criticism is always welcomed in my inbox.

Summary: Chris, Sebastian, and Julie (Fictional Character) have been friends for a long time… even before Chris and Seb started their acting careers and landed a role in the Marvel Universe. Friendship opened a new path to love and it’s starting to look… complicated.

Pairing: Chris Evans X Julie (Fictional Character), Sebastian Stan X Julie (FC)

Genre: Romance | Drama

Audience: PG-13…? (Jk there are some F-bombs and inappropriate language that might be suitable for the young)

Navigation: Masterlist

Two years ago.

Buzz.

The phone buzzed on my lap and the incoming message lit up my phone.

I’m sorry. Still filming.

I stared back at the steak that had gone cold two hours ago and the sauce that looked like someone had poured glossy nail paint on. The candle had completely gone out and in the darkness, I could still make up the empty seat across from me. When I started to reply, the phone buzzed again.

I don’t think I can make it back tonight. Don’t stay up too late. Lock your doors.

My head dropped in disappointment. And this is why you don’t do anything nice for people, Julie. Also, “lock your doors?” How can I even hate him?

I was starting to get up from my seat when I heard the doorbell. My heart skipped in excitement as my mind raced at the thought of Chris surprising me with a bouquet of flowers. He already knew my favorite. White Gardenias. I still remember when he first bought them for me when we took each other on pity dates to homecoming. Later, we found out that the meaning behind the flowers was secret love and it stuck with us forever.

I tossed my waves for the sexy, volume look and opened the door with a huge grin on my face waiting for his bright blue eyes to greet me. To my surprise, I was captivated by a familiar pair of slate blue eyes.

“Seb?!” I blurted as he made his way through the door with a large duffel bag hung on his shoulder. I followed him in like I was the guest of the house as he threw the bag down on the living room floor and jump on the couch.

“Can you get me a drink? Something strong please darling,” he muttered with his adorable accent he made up. His lean body stretched across my solo small loveseat.

I rolled my eyes at him as I plopped down on the floor facing him. “I’m sorry your highness, but it’s a self-service around here.”

He turned and smirked at me. “Rebellious one, I see.”

I smiled back at him. “What brings you here, Sebby?”

Now, he rolled his eyes at me and I giggled. He always expressed to me how he hates it when I would call him by that in public. In private, he had no excuse to be upset. Well, no valid point to argue why I shouldn't call him Sebby.  “A best friend can’t swing by to visit another best friend?”

“He could, but this best friend knows that her best friend should be across the world filming,” I said back matter-of-factly and he smiled his usual, you-got-me kind of smile.

“We finished up early.”

“Really? How? I thought you were going to be over there at least for another month? How did it go?”

“You know, I literally got off the plane an hour ago and raced here. You should be jumping with joy, not harassing me with 21 questions.”

“No one asked you to race here, you know.”

“But,” he started to say and after what felt like a long minute pause, he finished his sentence. “I was hungry.” I watched as his tense face relax.

“Hold on,” I exhaled loudly as I got up and made my way to the dining room. Well, calling it a dining room was giving it too much credit. It was the random space next to the kitchen that people put their dining table in. I turned on the small light on in the room that shed the light to the failed dinner date I was planning for Chris. I completely forgot that this was here and I didn’t realize Seb also followed me until I heard his voice behind me causing me to jump.

“Huh,” he muttered glancing around. “Did you get stood up?”

Feeling my face heating up, I quickly rushed over and started grabbing the plates to clear them. It wasn’t entirely false. He was already a step ahead taking the plate from my hands.

“Who’s the guy?” he asked and I grabbed the plate from his hands. “Are you using that app kids are using nowadays? Pinder? Was that what they called it?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said back as I attempted to head into the kitchen. The keyword was attempted. Sebastian was already in front of me.

“Who’s the guy?” he pressed again.

“Why do you need to know?”

“So I can beat his ass. Did he stood you up?”

“No,” I said back as I basically pushed him out of the way. I dropped the plates on the countertop and turned around to grab the rest when he stood in front of me again.

“Julie,” his velvety voice whispered. He never called me Julie unless it was serious. “Are you okay?”

I looked up at him, met his clear slate eyes and smiled. “I’m fine. You don’t need to make a deal out of Seb. It was just a small thing.”

“You cooked. You never cook.”

That was also true. There was a reason why I moved to the city. The takeout options were endless. My father left my mom when I was two and mother passed away when I was young and I was raised by my grandparents. I didn’t have a family recipe to pass down, we were all busy trying to get food on the table.

Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to tell him. I hated keeping secrets from him. Chris and I had been seeing each other for about six months and it was his idea to keep it away from Seb for now. We were still figuring things out in our relationship and Seb had a new project he was taking a lead on. I wasn’t sure how he was going to take it and the last thing I needed to bother him and his work.

To be honest, I just thought I was going to be some booty call for about two months, but I couldn’t believe that it had already been six months since we started… dating.

Seb grabbed the plates from my hands and placed them on the countertop for me. “Fine, you don’t have to tell me. But, I’m eating this.”

“No, let me order you something.”

He shook his head and made his way back to the table. I watched as he grabbed the box of matches next to the misshapen candle. With a small flame on his match, he lit the dying candle. “Bring me your best creation, Jules Ramsey.”

I sighed in defeat as went back to reheat the steak and glossy sauce.

To my surprise, he finished everything on the plate I prepared for him. But, he also didn’t say a word during the whole meal so I couldn’t tell if he was eating because he was hungry or because he felt bad. After his last bite, he placed his utensils down and wiped his mouth with the napkin.

“So?” I urgently asked.

“Good,” he said back.

“Good?”

He nodded.

“Nothing else to add?” I asked.

He leaned back on the chair. “Well, you said it was supposed to be medium rare, it definitely tasted borderline overcooked.”

Of course, that’s the Seb I knew. “Thanks,” I sarcastically muttered as I grabbed the plate from him. But, at the same time, he grabbed the plate as well and his hand was over mine.

“I’m just kidding. It was surprisingly good,” he said with his eyes glittering in the candlelight. Seb was born to be on the screen. His solid jawline and sculpted features did everything. His acting skill only confirmed his birthright.

“Uh huh, surprisingly,” I repeated back and he sighed.

“I give you a compliment and you’re still sulking.”

“Was that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “It was the best meal I had. And that’s saying a lot. You should really cook more because I think you have a talent for it.”

I immediately felt my face heating up and coughed to clear my throat. I could see why candlelight dinners were popular date ideas. I had weird butterflies in my stomach that didn’t exist there before.

“Thank you,” I managed to say out. “I’m glad that you were the first to try my masterpiece.”

There was a long period of silence as we sat there with his hand over mine both clutching to the plate.

“Go relax Seb, I should start cleaning up,” I said as I grabbed the plate and maneuvered my hand from his.

I should have run away when I had the chance because his next words had me glued to my seat for what felt like an eternity.

“I like you, Jules. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

The only thing that broke the silence was the clear clicking sound followed by a loud thud. That was the door. Seconds later, I heard his voice.

“Jules!”

Chris. Shit, I completely forgot to text him that Seb was over. Frantically I got up, but it was too late. He was already in the living room and looking at us both.

“Seb?” Chris asked looking at Seb.

“Chris?” Seb looked at Chris and then back at me. Those brilliant blue I craved so many hours ago was here,, but I was speechless. I didn’t know what to say. I just wanted to hide.

- - - - - - - - - - { Sebastian’s POV }

Shit. I couldn’t believe I said it.

My last words echoed over and over in head. “I like you, Jules. I can’t stop thinking about you.” Fuck.

Her warm brown eyes locked with mine. But, I couldn’t read her expression. Her full lips pressed shut and she looked down at the table. Her waves fell across her face as she looked concerned… no, confused. The silence carried on and a wave of regret washed over me. This wasn’t how I wanted to say it. No, not like this.

As I opened my mouth to say something to fill the space, there was a loud thud followed by a familiar voice.

“Jules!”

There was only one other person who called her by Jules. Before he turned the corner, I knew that Chris was here too. I glanced over at Jules who looked pale and sick to her stomach.

“Seb?” Chris asked and we made eye contact. He was wearing a plain black baseball cap that covered his messy head. His beard was at full force from his role as Captain America on the run. He had a bouquet of white flowers in his right hand.

“Chris?” I asked back as I looked over at her drained face. Something was going on.

Chris walked over to the table and casually placed the flowers down in front of Julie. “What are you doing here man? Aren’t you supposed to be filming?”

I smiled. “I didn’t know that you guys were that interested in me. Funny thing too, because that’s exactly what she said to me when I barged in.”

I watched as Chris and Jules looked at each other. When they made eye contact, I felt like I was the guest walking in the room. This was new.

“Huh, I didn’t know Jules would be the one to say something like that,” he laughed trying to lighten the tense mood in the room.

“My schedule finished up early and I came by to surprise her, but it looks like I surprised you too.”

“It’s my lucky day,” he smiled. “We missed you.”

We? When did he start speaking for her? “What about you?”

Chris looked around the room. “Oh you know, I just finished up filming and I was hoping to kick in the guest bed before the next shoot.”

“Your 5-star trailer wasn’t good enough,” I joked sarcastically and he laughed. “Well, it looks like it’s you and me on that twin bed tonight unless Jules wants to give up hers for us.”

Jules looked at me with determination in her eyes that was completely 180 from a few minutes ago.

“Seb,” she paused. “Chris and I are dating.”

[marvelstcrk]

Bailing Out

CHAPTER I: Under Arrest

pairing: tony stark x daughter!reader

summary: you’ve lived with your aunt and her family after your mother died. one day, you got arrested and your father whom you have never met came to bail you out.

word count: 1.5k

a/n: i literally wrote this in half an hour time, i was just super motivated! i’ll turn it into a mini series, maybe two or three parts :)

also im sorry if something here isn’t accurate i have no clue how arresting works

masterlist || bailing out masterlist

“You are under arrest for obstruction of justice.” You heard the words coming out of the man’s mouth, as he slammed you against the car’s door, wrapping your wrists with handcuffs. You rolled your eyes, taking a seat in the rusty police car.

The ride to the police station was long and annoying. Growing up in a small town, you knew almost everyone who lived there and everyone knew you. At least they thought they did. “I can’t believe this, Y/N!” Your gaze moved from the car window to the review mirror, your eyes locking with the ones of the man driving the car. “I understand you’re going through stuff. But come on, ever since Lucy died, you’ve been acting like you just left the jungle. It’s time for you to start acting a bit more mature!”

You rolled your eyes, tired of your mother popping up in every other conversation you led. Ever since she died, it felt like everyone was pitying you. You didn’t know why though, it’s not like their pity would change anything.

After her death, you started living with your aunt, since your mother never bothered to tell anyone who your father was. You didn’t mind, though. You could get by on your own, but apparently, you had to be older than 18 to do so.

Entering the small cell, you turned around letting the policeman take your handkerchiefs off. “Thanks, Tim.” you said, turning towards the little wooden bench before taking a seat there. After a while, you got real bored and lost track of time, tempted to find a sharp item to carve something stupid like “Y/N WAS HERE.” on the walls or the floor. Or both. Maybe even the ugly bench you were sat on. On the second thought, the whole place smelled like Dave, the local drunk who got arrested every night for almost cracking someone’s skull open when things escalate at the bar. You sighed, leaning your head against the cold wall behind you.

Maybe you fell asleep, because the next thing you heard was Tim’s voice. “Y/N, don’t freak out.” You arched an eyebrow at him, suppressing a yawn. “Your father will be the one to bail you out.” Eyebrows furrowing closer together, you started laughing hysterically. “I’m serious.” he continued, trying to be louder than your outburst. “He’ll be here any minute now.” You stopped laughing. “How the hell did you find him now? Where the fuck was he for the past 16 years?”

“I don’t know. You can ask him yourself. I just found a letter from a social worker, saying your mother left a note with his information around the time you were born, in case something happens.”

“I don’t need some drunk with no self respect, who missed out on my whole life, to just march in and rescue me from Dave’s second home.” you scoffed. “Just call my aunt to pick me up and I’ll be on my way.”

“No can do, Y/N. Give the man a chance.” He left, leaving you alone to roll your eyes at the thought of the incoming encounter. You didn’t need him to wander in here and save you like a damsel in distress. What happened with the past 16 years? This isn’t the first time you got in trouble.

You heard the door open and Tim talk to someone. Raising an eyebrow in their direction, you tried to eavesdrop but failed. Next thing you know, the cell door is opening and Tim is standing there staring at you. “He signed the release forms.”

“After all this time, you’re just gonna let some stranger take me? What if he’s like a serial killer? What if I never get to tell you I told you so after he kills me?”

He rolled his eyes holding the door open for you. You entered the room and saw the last person you expected sitting by the desk. “Oh this is some kind of a joke.”, you scoffed.

Tony froze, his heart beating so fast like it was trying to escape his chest. First impressions matter after all “You must be Y/N. Hi, I’m Tony.”

Tim took a plastic bag and emptied the containing items on the table. “And here’s your stuff Y/N, you are free to go.”

You shot a sharpe glance in the direction of the man behind the table. “Don’t think I don’t know you’re only doing things because you’re sick of me.”

You unexpectedly strolled out the place, causing Tony to slightly run beside you. “Hey, Y/N!” he called, causing you to turn around.

“What?” you asked frowning.

“C-can you come with me please?”

“Where?”

“You’ll see.” he said, holding his car door open. Your rolled your eyes, and entered the vehicle slamming the door shut. Tony frowned, but still felt a huge weight fall off his shoulders. He ran around the car and quickly entered his side.

Another boring drive from your boring home town to wherever the hell he was leading you. You kept your eyes on the road the whole time, not allowing yourself to look in his direction. Catching glimpse of a watch, you realised the two of you were driving for almost three hours. Finally, you broke the heavy silence. “So you’re not even close as talkative as you are on TV.”

He shook his head, feeling the tension build up in his shoulders. He didn’t want to mess this up. When he got the call few hours ago, he thought it was a prank or something. Now, you looked at him with a dead stare, bored out of your mind.

He couldn’t mess this up.

“I just don’t know what to say.”

“Gee, I don’t know, maybe something like Hey, Y/N! Long time, no see man, how’ve you been?”

He laughed at this. “Tom called your-“

“Tim.”

“Right. Sorry. Tim called your aunt to let her know that you’ll be staying with me.”

“How do you even know my mother was telling the truth? Maybe she just decided to wing it and slam your name on the papers.”

“One way to find out.” he said, hitting the breaks. You hadn’t even noticed the car had entered a garage. You released your seatbelt. “Where are we?”

“You’ll see.” You looked around, following him as he entered an elevator. A voice spoke and took you by surprise. “Welcome back Mr Stark. Captain Rogers asked me to alert you about your meeting tomorrow.”

“Tell him to bugger off.” he muttered and turned to face you, feeling your confused gaze on him. “It’s Friday. H-her name is Friday, she’s my computer.”

You tapped him on the shoulder, strolling in through the door. Looking around you, you found yourself in a lab filled with all sorts of buttons you were tempted to push. Looking out the big window, you realised it was already morning. Must’ve fallen asleep in the car, you thought. Catching a glimpse of a short man with glasses and a lab coat heading your way, you turned around. “Tony, I gotta talk to you about these calculations for the project alpha. How do you read your own handwriting?” he looked up from the paper, only to see you. “You’re not Tony.”

You stretched your lips as far as you could. “I’m not Tony.”

“Where is he?”

“He was just in the elevator.”

“I’m here!” Tony called, carrying something in his hands. “I see you’ve met Y/N.” You chuckled, waving your hand in the man’s direction. “There’s a possibility she could be my daughter, so...” he took out a little plastic bag and quickly pulled out a strand of your hair before you could object, handing it to the man in the lab coat. “...do your magic.”

Bruce’s jaw flew open as took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes before taking the bag. He handed the papers in his hand to Tony. “Decipher this. I’ll let you know once I’m done.”

You raised yourself on your toes, peeking to the papers over Tony’s arm. “Dear lord, how do you read your own handwriting?”

“Hilarious.” he commented, throwing them away in the trash can. “Wanna eat something?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you replied “Wouldn’t mind.”

The kitchen was a large room, obviously built for the whole team to fit in. You made yourself cereal and sat down on one of the bar stools at the counter, Tony leaning against the fridge across from you.

“What?” you asked, your mouth full.

He snapped out of his little chain of thought. He shook his head and went over to the couch.

It’s not that he was afraid of talking to you, he was afraid that you didn’t like him already. He had missed out on your entire life, and even if he is your biological father he’s still a stranger. He couldn’t live with himself if he had harmed you more than his absence already has, so he decided to keep his distance.

You two were in the middle of a movie in the common room, which you had suggested to avoid breaking the ice, when the elevator arrived, followed by Bruce’s footsteps over the room. “Tones, I got the results.” He handed an envelope to him, before gently patting him on the shoulder and leaving. “Thanks buddy.” Tony muttered. “Should I have the honours?”

“Just open it.” you said, clenching the remote control as hard as you could. He did as you said, his eyes rapidly flying over the papers. His eyes widened, and he swallowed a thick nothing. “It’s positive.”

CHAPTER II

[orbemnews]

India's Covid-19 catastrophe could hurt global supplies of medicines, clothing and shoes Prime Minister Narendra Modi has so far resisted calls to impose another total lockdown on the country, even as many regions have announced their own heavy restrictions. But several global industries that rely on India are looking on anxiously. Should the crisis deepen, everything from clothing and pharmaceuticals to financial services and global shipping could feel the pain. More than 200,000 of an estimated 1.7 million seafarers globally are from India, according to Guy Platten, the Secretary General at the International Chamber of Shipping. Many of them have officer ranks and roles requiring important skills, he added. “We hope to goodness” this situation can be resolved, Platten told CNN Business. Otherwise it could lead to big “shortage of seafarers,” which would “disrupt the global supply chain,” he added. As many countries have banned flights from India, it is already impossible to move Indian workers to ports around the world, and swap crews. René Piil Pedersen, head of Marine Relations at Maersk, the world’s largest container shipping company, hopes that countries start distinguishing between regular travelers and seafarers. Otherwise, he said, the world could face both a serious threat to global cargo flows, and a “humanitarian crisis,” because crews would not be able to leave their vessels and return home. “It will take a heavy toll on their mental welfare,” said Pedersen, whose company employs 30% of its seafarers from India. The pandemic threw global shipping into chaos last year, with nearly 200,000 seafarers stranded for months due to port closures and grounded airplanes. Some workers had started calling their vessels “floating prisons” — and Pedersen fears a return to that scenario if India’s Covid-19 crisis continues unabated. There are also significant delays in the movements of vessels. Some places, such as the United Arab Emirates, Singapore, Hong Kong and mainland China, “have already imposed strict quarantine restrictions for vessels arriving from Indian ports,” said Sankar Narayanan, manager for shipping at shipping and logistics company GAC India. Experts say vaccinating seafarers could be a solution, but that may prove to be hard to execute. Vaccines and other pharmaceuticals The world’s vaccination drive is already suffering because of the outbreak in India, which typically produces more than 60% of all vaccines sold globally. The country is home to the Serum Institute of India (SII), the world’s largest vaccine maker. Its vast manufacturing capability is why the country signed on as a major player in COVAX, the global initiative that provides discounted or free doses of the Covid-19 vaccine for lower-income countries. SII agreed last year to manufacture up to 200 million Covid vaccine doses for up to 92 countries. But, with only 2% of India’s population fully vaccinated, the government and SII have shifted focus from supplying vaccines to other countries, and are now prioritizing Indian citizens. The bad news doesn’t end there. Apart from the Covid vaccine shortage, there could be other consequences for the worldwide pharmaceutical industry if the spread of the infection in India is not controlled soon. India is the world’s largest supplier of generic drugs — copies of brand-name pharmaceuticals that have the same effects but cost less. In the United States, 90% of all prescriptions are filled by generic drugs and one in every three pills consumed is produced by an Indian generics manufacturer, according to an April 2020 study by the Confederation of Indian Industry and KPMG. But Indian drug makers get as much as 70% of their raw materials from China, a link in the supply chain that looks vulnerable given the coronavirus surge. At the end of April, China’s Sichuan Airlines suspended cargo flights to India for 15 days. That prompted India’s top pharmaceutical export group to write to India’s ambassador in Beijing, urging him to intervene. In the letter, Ravi Udaya Bhaskar, director general of the Pharmaceutical Export Promotion Council of India, termed the suspension “worrisome” — and said it could have a “cascading effect” on the supply chain. “Most countries depend on India for generic drugs, and India depends on China for raw material. It will be a big blow to [the] global pharma supply chain if trade between the two is disrupted,” said Tinglong Dai, associate professor of Operations Management and Business Analytics at the Johns Hopkins Carey Business School. For now, the impact seems limited. Bhaskar told CNN Business last week that there is currently no shortage of drugs, since big firms have enough raw material to tide them over the next three to four months. He also said that Sichuan Airlines was likely to resume service this week. Sichuan Airlines did not respond to a request for comment. Clothes India is one of the largest textile exporters in the world, and the industry is struggling with severe labor shortages. “This is the first time our generation has experienced something like this. No one was prepared for this dreadful scenario,” said Arpit Aryan Gupta, partner and new business development head at apparel manufacturer NG Apparels, which is in Ludhiana, Punjab, a big garment producing hub. The company, which supplies brands including New Balance and Nordstrom, employs about 100 skilled and semi-skilled workers, and nearly 50% of them have left since the latest Covid-19 surge began. Gupta said he is providing housing for remaining workers on site to keep the factory running. Elsewhere, manufacturers are staring at equally worrisome scenarios. In the major garment production hubs of Delhi and Bangalore — which are also states with a high number of Covid-19 infections — absenteeism among workers is as high as 50%, according to consulting firm Wazir Advisors. And for many manufacturers who are still recovering from last year’s slowdown, the safety of workers has become a huge concern. Domestic clothing industry consumption and exports last year fell by 30% and 24%, respectively, according to Wazir Advisors. “But for 2021, it is difficult to project right now as we are not sure by when this pandemic will end,” the firm added. India is also a major global exporter of leather and leather goods. The country is the second-largest exporter of leather garments and the fourth-largest exporter of leather goods in the world, according to the Indian Council for Leather Exports. It is also a major producer of footwear, after China, producing nearly three billion pairs of shoes annually. Last year, the pandemic dealt a serious blow to India’s leather industry, and businesses had just begun to recover before the latest wave led to massive shutdowns and a shortage of skilled staff. Financial services Big banks and accounting firms are scrambling to keep their online operations afloat, given how important India is as a hub for their back offices. Many companies have outsourced a huge number of information technology and operations jobs to India in recent decades, attracted by an educated workforce and cheaper labor costs. Almost 4.4 million people in the country are employed in IT and business process management, according to the National Association of Software and Service Companies, a trade body. Some companies are taking some measures to address the crisis, include shifting work to other countries, encouraging staff to work from home and extending project deadlines. Goldman Sachs (GS) and Wells Fargo (WFC), for example, have implemented remote work for all employees. But working from home during a pandemic is complicated, especially if employees have to look after sick relatives. There are also challenges around security and data protection, since employees may be handling sensitive company or customer information. UK banks Barclays (BCLYF), NatWest and Standard Chartered (SCBFF) are in some cases redirecting work to other countries to relieve pressure on employees in India, many of whom have fallen ill or have care responsibilities at home. EY India, which has over 56,000 workers, activated a business continuity plan at the start of the surge, which included shifting work to other geographies. Almost all of its employees are working from home, according to Julie Teigland, a regional managing partner. “A significant number of EY people and their family members have been directly impacted by the severe second wave of Covid in India,” she told CNN Business. — Parija Kavilanz and Hanna Ziady contributed to this report. Source link Orbem News #catastrophe #clothing #Covid19 #Global #Hurt #Indias #medicines #shoes #supplies

[darklingichor]

Ripley Underground by Patricia Highsmith

This book was interesting. Not as strong as the first, but I didn't expect it to be. The plot is fairly simple. Tom, now married to an heiress named Heloise, lives in France spending his days gardening and painting. For income he has helped a pair of gallery owners in England, cover up the suicide of a popular painter, Derwatt. The owners and Derwatt fellow painter Bernard are distraught after he killed himself in Greece. Bernard because of the loss of a friend and the talent wasted, the owners because they lost their best seller.

Tom, who had become friends with them, suggested that they simply say that Dorwat   had become a recluses in some far flung place, have Bernard paint in his style and say that new paintings are periodically shipped to England.

They do just that, and start selling art supplies and painting classes under the late painter's name, along with the forged paintings all the while saying that the artist is living a quiet life in Mexico.

In gratitude the gallery owners give Tom a cut of the profits.

Tom also does some spy stuff, but that's not a huge part of this book.

An American collector has started to question whether or not his Derwatt painting and others, are forgeries. In a panic the gallery owners call Tom in to impersonate Derwatt, and get the collector to drop it which doesn't work. Meanwhile Bernard doesn't want to paint forgeries anymore and plans to come clean.

Oddly enough, Tom gets himself into trouble by being too nice, too concerned for the welfare of the Bernard. Even the murder he commits is to protect him.

He doesn't want Bernard to go to the police  or tell the american collector anything, not because he doesn't want to lose the income, but because he doesn't want him to ruin the gallery and Bernard's own future.

Tom tries to convince him to just tell the owners he doesn't want to paint the forgeries anymore, they can say Derwatt decided to retire, or passed away suddenly, and that would be that. This also doesn't work.

What follows is a tangled web of lies and plots that nearly get Tom himself killed twice.

This stuff is really interesting, but it's the characters that really kept me reading.

Tom seems somehow more calculating yet more mellow. This might be because his persona is complete and stable. He has money, still getting the income from the Greenleafs, money coming in from the art scam, money from his union with Heloise. He can do what he likes, and people see him as he wants them to.

What is really interesting is his devotion to Bernard's wellbeing.

If Tom had been motivated by money, he would have killed Bernard, and set it up to look like the painter duped the gallery owners into believing that Derwatt was alive and the paintings they received were genuine. That would have kept the gallery owners from losing their good reputation, they probably could have continued the art supply line and classes in Derwatt's honor and the American collector would have been mollified, secure in the knowledge that his theory was correct, but no one alive on whom to place blame. And Tom's name need never enter the equation.

However, Tom seems protective of Bernard, even after the latter makes it very clear that he does not want Tom's protection. It's not hard to figure out why. Bernard makes his living being an imposter, Tom's whole current life is based off of being an imposter. He prefers Bernard's work to the originals because Tom feels that he was a better Dickie Greenleaf than Dickie himself and sees no reason why Bernard can't simply "kill" the Derwatt business and fill the space left vacant by the absence of another painter.

Tom sees himself on Bernard so he wants him to do well.

Another interesting character is Tom's wife Heloise.

They seem to be well matched, these two. She suspects that Tom killed Dickie, didn't bat an eye when Tom confessed to another murder, or to the art scam. Tom describes her has fairly amoral, and honestly she seems to somewhat enjoy the thrill of the coverup. Their dynamic makes me curious of how she's going to play into the next books.

Now the part that I just couldn't get past.

I don't understand art beyond knowing what looks good to me, but the thing that set the whole plot in motion seems like something that no one would take seriously.

It all came about because the collector noticed that his Derwatt and others had a shade of purple in it that the artist had "abandoned" years prior, and his theory was that an artist would never consciously or unconsciously return to a previous technique.

So... His theory is that if a painting has the "wrong" color it must be a fake... Because a painter could never just run out of a color, or you know, change their mind?

I don't know painting, but if paint is anything like yarn, sometimes shit changes and the changes suck. I literally discovered that a shade of purple yarn I'd been using was discontinued, right in the middle of a project. The closest thing I could find was just off enough to be annoying. You work with what you have.

And the whole idea that an artist would never go back after developing an new technique? Lord help anyone else this guy collects who is hit by a wave of nostalgia.

Artist: "It might be cool, to paint this in my old way, see how it comes out."

American Collector: "It's a fake!"

Artist: "No, I painted it."

Collector: "Nope, you're being forged, you just don't know it."

Artist: "Dude, I literally painted this, stared at it for hours, it's mine."

Collector: "Can't be, it looks like your early stuff and this shade of chartreuse is different. You can't go backwards on stuff and use different paint, not allowed!"

Artist: "Are you high?"

Anyway other than that, I really liked this book!

[freedomartspress]

Post-Rapture — Breht O’Shea

You wake up, the morning sunlight softly flooding around the edges of your drapes, illuminating the bedroom and falling gently upon the body of your partner who is still sleeping. You get up to let the dog out, and wave to your neighbor who is doing the same.

“You going to make it to movie night tonight”, you neighbor inquires, “our friends on 27th street are hosting this time. They blocked off their enitre cul de sac and I made sure to run over the neighborhood projector yesterday”.

“Of course”, you reply, “the kids love movie night! Ill see you there!”

Since the revolution, community means a lot more than it use to. At some point it stopped being an empty platitude uttered by rich politicians on the campaign trail and slowly became a tangible reality in your daily life. You remember the days before the revolution, when you didn’t even know your neighbors names; now you work closely with all of them to organize local councils and gardening projects, coordinate with other neighborhoods, and put together communal events. Some of your best friends, you realize, only lived a few blocks or houses away from you for years, but you never even knew it until you all began setting up community organizations and local grass roots collectives during the revolution.

Now that life has been decommodified and people no longer live to serve the market, you have a lot more free time. You started a philosophy club with some of your neighbors, and your wife spearheaded a project to storm-proof your entire neighborhood and coordinate local   disaster relief projects across the entire county. Seeing her be able to pursue her interests and find meaning in her life has meant the world to you; her depression and anxiety used to be crippling in the old days, but now she has really come into her own. A happy tear slides down your cheek as you reflect on how proud you are of her.

The work week has been cut in half, and you remember with sadness the days of old when you were forced to work three different jobs just to make ends meet. You never really thought of housing as a human right before; it never occurred to you that your family could be guaranteed a comfortable home without having to pay half of your income in rent to a landlord.

You call your dog back into the house, he clumsily navigates the flower beds and raised gardens you have littered throughout your yard. Lawns of mono-cultural grass are a thing of the past, now every lawn in your neighborhood has been turned into bio-diverse community gardens. You water your plants, then you head back inside, gather your stuff, and walk down the block to the high-speed rail station. As you enter the train, headed into the city center, you notice that the walls of the train have art on them. You sit down under a beautiful print of Von Goghs Starry Night, remembering that before the revolution, this train wouldn’t have existed, and if it did, that painting would have been replaced with an advertisement for a car company or deodorant or something else equally as meaningless. You hated the constant bombardment of advertising in the old days, not so much for yourself, but for your kids. You remember how they use to sit in front of the TV screen, staring blindly at colorful advertisements for sugary cereal and shitty plastic toy products that would break after a couple days. The cartoons they watched, you realize, were only there to keep their attention between commercials.

As you hurtle down the rails, you think about how the very concept of Rush Hour Traffic has all but vanished from your mind. All those cars packing the interstates at 8am and 5pm, all that smog and co2 being pumped relentlessly into the atmosphere… you wonder how many hours of your life were wasted sitting in bumper to bumper traffic as billboards towered over you in every direction, trying to convince you that you weren’t a complete person unless and until you bought their product.

The train gradually begins to slow down and eventually stops, you exit the train, walk out of the station, and head to your job. Before the revolution, you were a barista and an uber driver, and on the weekends you tended bar. Now you work in the field of environmental science, helping others from your area build and maintain the new global green energy grid. The government paid for your education and training, arguing that they wanted to invest in their people and implementing full employment for those who could, and wanted to, work. You don’t love every aspect of your job, no job is perfect, but you only have to work 20 hours a week, and now that your healthcare, housing, transportation, and children’s education are offered as human rights by the society at large, you are no longer working yourself to the bone out of desperation paycheck to paycheck, but are contributing to a society that you believe in and sincerely feel a part of. As you walk toward your building, you notice the utter lack of both cops and homeless people. Before the revolution, these city streets were packed full of the mentally ill and poor, huddling in tents on the sidewalk and sleeping in the gutters, being constantly harassed by an out of control police force with no accountability to the people that they brutalized and oppressed. You now realize that you haven’t seen a homeless person in years, and you find it hard to believe that at one time it was accepted as normal by pretty much everyone. Now those people have healthcare and homes as well as robust community ties at the grass roots level and structural, institutional protection at the highest levels to ensure no one slips through the cracks; that no one goes without.

You turn the corner and enter your building, the morning meeting has already started, and you join your fellow co-workers to plan out the day. In the old days, you remember getting scolded by your boss for clocking in late or taking too long of lunch break. You cringe when recalling how belittled you felt, apologizing to that asshole on the regular and catering to his infinite narcissism just to ensure you didn’t get fired and lose your ability to support you family. You put up with so much shit… but you had to. A small smile spreads across your face, as you reflect on the fact that your kids, will never know what it feels like to have to cower in front of a petty tyrant like that, and cater to their every demand. They will never have to feel the humiliation of having to lower themselves to the level of subservience to another human being. You laugh at the idea of someone now a days puffing out their chest and handing down orders to their co-workers. They would be laughed out of the building…

As you ascend the staircase to your floor, you pause to gaze out of the window and are entranced by the beauty: every building is topped with lush greenery and solar panels. With the huge investments into science and technology detached from profit motives brought about by the revolution, you know those solar panels no longer require extractive mining operations in the global south to obtain the minerals; the expansion of investments in science and public health have allowed for the emergence of asteroid mining and strict international laws against extractive environmental degradation. The huge sums of wealth and resources funneled to the global south after the revolution has reduced global poverty to near-nonexistence, and the science and technology created in any corner of the world is shared with every other corner of the world, reducing borders to a thing of the past and allowing for the free movement of peoples across the entire globe.

You turn away and continue to ascend the stairs. You know the world isn’t perfect, and there is so much more to do, but when you reflect on how far we’ve come since the revolution, you feel a burning passion deep inside your chest to do everything you can to make sure we never go back to the barbarism of our specie’s capitalist past. You know, deep down, that you would do anything to make sure your kids will never, ever have to live like your parents had to, and you sense within yourself a blossoming feeling of pride knowing that you and your comrades helped make this possible, that you participated earnestly in the monumental struggle of your time, and that you all fought for this new world, against all odds, and won…

and that you’ll never stop fighting for it.

--

Breht is a revolutionary communist. He hosts the podcast Revolutionary Left Radio and co-hosts Red Menace.

[winter-maiden11]

Fake relationship (or not) by WinterMaiden11

WenDip week prompt “Fake relationship”

Spring break is coming and most of the students in Gravity Falls University are getting busy for their upcoming Spring break ball. Often the alumni organize parties before the school break started. It is to ease up the students’ mood from their cramming schedules and projects.

“Say Wendy could you hang out with me this weekend? I’ll have to find a dress for the ball. And maybe you should buy one too?” Tambry nudges Wendy who is busy munching her cookies. They’re at the school lounge, sitting comfortably while at their break, it’s one of Wendy’s favorite place to standby.

“Nah, I’m good with my dresses. I’ll just accompany you then. And maybe we could hang out on the arcade after?” Wendy grinned.

Tambry pouted. “You haven’t bought new one since we entered freshmen here. I’ll buy you instead.” She patted Wendy’s shoulder.

Wendy doesn’t seem to bother her friend’s comment though. And pull out her celphone checking for messages. She was expecting a text from Dipper but instead she got an unknown number.

She frowned crashing off what’s left on her cookie. The message was from Brad, her classmate on one of her academic classes. Also one of the well known varsity player in their school. He has a huge crush towards her since the first semester of their year. He kept on proposing his feelings for her even when she gave a hint of rejection.

She doesn’t want to be rude to anyone, but sometimes she was on the edge of her temper that all she would do is snob him. Much to her dismay, he’s one of her groupmates in class. If anyone would say, she has struck a gold if she accepted his feelings. Some girls in the campus has a huge crush on him. Only seeing his good looks. Behind those gold blond waves, cheeky smile, and well-built muscles, he’s still a jerk. His massive pride and arrogant made him look bad to her taste. Maybe because he’s the son of one of the rich men in Gravity Falls.

She ignore the text, sighing, she shove it back to her pocket. “Did anyone of you gave my number to Brad?” she crossed her arm.

Tambry paused from her typing on phone. “Uhhh. Rob did?”

“That Idiot! Why did he do that! Without even asking me?” She glared.

“Uhh. You must listen to his explanation first.” Tambry pointed out. Wendy turned her back seeing Robbie with Nate and Thompson coming.

“Hey guys, why the long faces?” Robbie greeted as he sat down next to Tambry.

Wendy, gritting her teeth gave Robbie a smack on his arm; it was a good aim that she didn’t hit Tambry.

“Ooww! Why’d you do that!” He rubbed his arm.

“You tell me?!” Wendy eyed him. “Why did you give my number to Brad?”

“Oohh. That, I was supposed to tell you earlier, but I haven’t seen you. He kept on picking on me, so I have no choice and gave it to him!” He explained.

“You jerk. He started texting me! Why not gave him Nate’s or Thompson’s number instead!”

“Heh! You think Brad is stupid. He threatened me, and if I did give a wrong number, I’m doomed!” Robbie waved.

Wendy sighed. “I don’t even want to change number.” She murmured.

----

Back at their classes, Tambry and Wendy parted paths, heading to their respective rooms, They will be seeing in next subject. Wendy sat on her desk next to the window, she was on the third last row. It was a good choice of seat. She pulled out her notes, and kept herself busy scrolling to her pages, when she stumbled upon her old writings.

She smiled, remembering it was a draft note of her mysterious journey with the twins on last two years vacation. Time flies so fast, as if it’s like just yesterday when she reminisces those days. She misses the twins suddenly. And felt like they won’t be here for summer this year.

It was like; they are all getting busy on their own life. Like she is now. They’re all beginning to be an adult now and so they should be working on it to be a responsible one. She’s 20 now and eventually will have to find a fix income for herself. Thinking about it sucks.

She sighed pondering over things when someone approached her.

“Hey Wendy.” A familiar voice snapped her from her deep thoughts. She looked up seeing the Brad gazing on her, smiling.

“Did you got my text? I was wondering, coz you haven’t replied.” He said. Some of the girls stared at them. And she feels it. Moments like this really piss her off.

“Yeah. But I haven’t able to reply.” She waved. “I don’t have to.” She murmured.

“Say, you have plans for the upcoming ball?” He added.

“Not much. I’m not going anyway.” She flips another page of her note, pretend to be reading.

“Aww that’s sad. But I will be waiting for you.” He leaned.

“You don’t have to. There are a lot of girls you could invite.” She shrugged.

“Come on! You should be enjoying, you don’t even have a boyfriend.” He teased.

She raised her brow, cringing. But before she even tells a word their professor came and students went on to their seats, including Brad who is waving to her.

“That jerk! I don’t need a boyfriend, not if it’s you!” She murmured and tried to concentrate on her professor’s lesson.

 Weekend came and just few days before the ball. As they planned, Wendy and Tambry go shopping. Wendy might get bored waiting for her. But still it’s for her friend. She tap her phone checking new messages. But none. She wondered what might her friend Dipper have been doing. It seems he’s very busy. She haven’t received anything from him, recently.

She snapped out from her thoughts when a paper bag shoved in front of her.

“What’s this?” She asked taking the bag.

“It’s yours.” Tambry said. “You seem in deep thoughts.”

Wendy chuckled and stands up. “You shouldn’t have to.” She said peeking on the bag.

“I know you’re bored and it’s the least I can do.” Tambry nudges. “What you’ve been thinking to.”

“I was thinking… Not to go to the party.” She smirks.

Tambry stops walking and glare at her. “Oh come on! You didn’t!”

Wendy shrugged.

“Then what about that dress I gave you? I took an effort choosing it for you.” She pouted.

“Well, I can wear it some other time.” Wendy grinned.

Tambry punches her friend’s arm gently. “You traitor, I thought you’re into this.”

Wendy made a face mocking at her friend.

“Come on! At least you just try, I know why you didn’t like to go. Its Brad is it? The last year’s party went well for you.”

“You might say that it is.” She sighed.

“Heh. Figures. You can just punch him on the face if he’s still keep bothering you.”

“heh, I’m glad to, but not when we’re inside the campus. I’d like to see his expression if ever I did that, wanna see his beautiful face get wrecked?” Wendy grinned clenching her fist.

Tambry laughed. “Be my guest. I can even imagine his face like.”

They laugh; of course, Wendy wouldn’t do that unless she or someone was bullied. She won’t hurt anyone unless she has a reason to do so.

“So have you decided to go with me on the party?” Brad peered over as Wendy put her stuff back on the locker. “Every one else has their partner and they’re will be participating on the event.”

“I will go to the party but not with you.” She said closing the locker. She smiled sarcastically and started to walk. Brad hold her up. Blocking her way. She glared at him, he’s a big guy. “Why? Who will you go with?”

“My friends, who else to.” She furrowed.

“Tambry has her Robbie, you don’t wanna be their third wheel won’t you.”

Wendy glared. She clenches her fist, holding up not to punch him, not here though.

“And what? You’re not gonna hurt me. You can’t. You know what happens when you do that.” He said.

“Is that a threat?”

“Just a warning.”

“I told you I won’t go with you. I HAVE SOMEONE ELSE to go with me already!” She sternly said.

Brad furrowed. “You?” He snorted. “You did.”

“Of course. If I told you that I have a boyfriend will you leave me alone?”

“You never ever mentioned him to me.” He stared.

She blinked. What else she could do. There wasn’t enough excuse to avoid him this time. She’s been avoiding and rejecting his proposal for like a thousand times.

Then her phone rang. She pulled it out seeing Dipper’s contact. She didn’t hesitate to answer and ignore Brad.

“Hey Dipper, What’s up?” She turned her back.

“Hey Wendy. I’m sorry I never get to contact you recently. So I decided to call you now. How’s it going?” Dipper said on the line.

Brad frowned. “You’re just gonna turn your back now? Is that how you supposed to talk to anyone?” He yelled.

Wendy pursed her lip. “I’m not in a good situation right now.” She whispered on the line, telling Dipper. Dipper though got the situation.

She turned back facing towards him. “I’m sorry Brad but I have to leave, I told you already, I won’t go with you to the party…”

Brad furrowed, and before he even said another word. Wendy blurted. “My boyfriend is on the line. I don’t want to hold him up.” She grinned sarcastically.

“Like I believe you!”

Wendy shoves her phone towards his face showing Dipper’s contact picture. “Now you see it!” Brad growled and turn his back, walking out. “He’s a dork!”

“Sorry I have to do that.” Wendy said back in line.

“It’s okay. Are you alright?” Dipper said.

“I’m okay. You… Heard everything right?” Wendy started to walk, face palming. Oh Wendy why do you have to say that? She told herself.

Dipper chuckled a bit. “Yeah. But it’s okay. Its Brad again.” He said.

“Yeah. Can’t make any excuse and you calling now saves my life.” She chuckled.

“Haha! He calls me a Dork.” He said.

“Don’t bother him, he’s a loser.” She smiled.

Wendy proceed on walking while talking to her friend. She’s glad he get to call and they have a lot to talk to.

  “He did what?” Tambry puts down her phone. Her eyes widened. “Did Brad really get to pissed off.” She laughs.

“He growled and looks stupid as he walks out.” Wendy said. They’re at the lounge, school day is over and that was their last day. They finally finished cramming. And the break has started.

“So will you invite Dipper later for the party?” Tambry asked.

“I don’t have to. I don’t want to bother him.” Wendy fiddled to her phone.

“But you tell Brad that he’s coming with you.” Tambry said in a low voice.

“Well, I’ll just tell him his busy and could not go to the party.”

“That’s a bad move. He might take in as advantage.”

“I don’t care. If he still keep on bothering me. I’ll have to do what it takes even if he threatens me.”

“He did that to you?”

“Yeah, that’s all he could do, use his being son of this wealthy man of Gravity Falls and all that to get what he wants.”

Brat, just like that Gideon. She thought.

“Heh. Break a leg then.” Tambry waved.

“Literally?” Wendy cocked her head.

They both laugh. “Whatever.” Tambry nudges her friend. “Maybe I could take you for a dance after I’m done with Robbie.”

Wendy chuckled. “If he ever let you go.”

  The party will be starting later this night and Wendy seemed lost in thoughts whether she’ll be going or not. It’s still early. She got up looking at the dress hanging up over her wardrobe. It’s knee-length chiffon, a beautiful shade of purple and teal. She thought it’s too stylish for her. She snapped out when her laptop screen showed a call. It was Dipper.

“Hey what’s up?” She answered, as Dipper on screen appeared.

“All is well here. Finally our break started.” He said happily. “How’s it going?”

“Uhmm, all is well?” She blinked.

“Seems not so well to me.” He said. “What’s the matter?”

Wendy pursed her lips. “I don’t want to go to the party.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You’re worried about Brad?” He raised his brow. She nodded.

“I’m going because Tambry wants to, and, she even bought me a dress.” She sighed.

“That’s nice of her. Uhhm, well. Maybe you could tell her why you don’t want to or as try as you might, you could only do is avoid Brad during that party.”

“Dude, I’ve been thinking about it whole day.”

“I know. You could just go for a bit and go home early.”

“I’ll try to do that. I’ll stick with Thompson… But…” Wendy bit her lip.

Thompson had invited a friend and he might never get to hang out with her the whole party, maybe their group but not with those activities.

She looked at Dipper on screen. Her brows wrinkled.

“What is it?” Dipper asked at her sudden silence.

She blinked. “Nothing. Oh well. Go with the flow. I wish the party will go well for me like last year’s.”

“Yeah, you enjoyed it.” He chuckled.

“Don’t you have one of your school today?” She asked.

“Well, we also have a party tomorrow. But I don’t know, I’m going coz I have to watch out for my sister. You know Mabel.” He shrugged.

Wendy laughed. “Yeah. I miss her. How is she?”

“She’s fine, she’s gone crazy over the studies, but she manages well.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“And so are you.” He said smiling.

“So is me? I’m getting crazy with all these cramming.” She snorted.

“Well, you can do it. You’re Wendy, you can do anything.”

“Heh. I wish.”

Her phone beside her rang. She checked it and frowned. She sighed shoving it off to her bed.

“I think I know who it is.” Dipper said noticing his friend’s reaction.

“Who else. I thought he has stopped.” She rubbed her head.

“He’ll get something on me later.”

“Go easy on him.” He teases.

“Just kidding.” She smiled.

“Any plans for the summer vacation?” She asked.

“I still don’t know. I hope we’ll be able to get back there.” He said. “I miss being there.”

She smiled. “Me too.”

She misses all those adventures.

Wendy let out a sigh as she reaches the hall entrance. Wearing her friend’s gift, she matches it up with a calf boots. Her hair tied up into a half pony.

“Wendy you look great. I’m really good at picking clothes.” Tambry said proudly. She wear a black and red lace dress paired with also a calf length boot. Tambry wears a heavy liner and shadows, which made her look more like a goth. But still rocks.

Wendy rolled her eyes. “Yeah yeah. Have you seen the others?”

“Nate and Robbie are on their way.” She said, checking her phone.

Later, Nate and Robbie joined as well as Thompson with their friends invited along. The event has started and they enjoyed as programs on going. Their group joins into an ice breaker game. There were almost four teams to compete with and they made up to the last game but didn’t win.

Still, they shove it off and relish the buffet prepared on the tables.

Slow music began to play and anyone who had their date went on the floor dancing. Robbie and Tambry went. Wendy, Nate and Thompson with their friends just stayed behind and chatted, and teased Thompson as they usually do. Good thing their laugh was drowned by the loud music and didn’t disturb any one on their sweet moment.

They even get a “narrating people’s life” game while they were seated.

They were busy laughing when Thompson paused and nudges Nate. Their friends didn’t get their sudden reaction and looked up. Wendy stopped laughing when she noticed someone beside her. She frowned.

“As I expected. You’re just lying when you said you have your boyfriend here.” Brad let out a cheeky smile. Behind him was he’s so called buddies but more like his bodyguards.

“I do. He’s just busy and couldn’t go tonight.” She said sternly.

Her friends with their girls started to glance up to him. Worried.

“Since you’re alone with these idiots, why not Dance with me.”

“I don’t dance.”

“I’ll teach you.”

“Not to bother I’ll stay here.” She waved up her hand. “You can go on. Go find another girl.”

Brad stared at her friends. He gave them a sharp gesture to leave them alone. But Nate and Thompson didn’t even move.

“You don’t think you can just order someone to do something.” Wendy stands up. “They will stay here and so is me!”

“Heh. Brave girl. That’s what I also like about you.” He smirks and grabs her wrist and drag her. Her friends rose to their seat trying to stop him but his buddies pushes them back to seat.

“Hey! That’s harassment you jerk!” Nate shouted.

“Where is he taking her?” Thompson said, worried.

Wendy tried to let go of his grasp but it becomes tighter that it will almost hurt her wrist. He uses his athletic grasp. “I’m warning you! Let me go!”

Brad tried to drag to the exit hall.

But as soon as he’s about to take a step, someone blocked their way.

“I’m sorry but I think you took the wrong girl.” A familiar voice could be heard. And Wendy behind him peered in. She cuffed her mouth in surprise.

“Dipper!” She shouted happily.

Brad stared at him. “You are?!”

“Just call me Dipper, every one’s calling me that.” He smiled extending his hand to shake.

Brad just gave a spitting look and ignores him. “You really think I believe you.”

“Of course.” Dipper said walking towards Wendy. Now some of the people in the hall are staring at them. “What else you needed to know… You already saw it the other day.” Dipper smiled and grabbing back Wendy to him.

People began to wonder, some of them ask who he is.

He held on to Wendy’s hand and raised it, showing everyone. “I’m her boyfriend.” He smiled playfully. Wendy smiled but surprise at the same time.

Nate and Thompson came in. They patted Dipper’s shoulder.

Brad stared. He looked around. Some people notice the commotion.

Dipper step to him closer. “Brad Hamilton. I’ve been here and there in Gravity Falls, and I heard about you. You have a reputation to protect and you don’t want people to see and know that the son of Hamilton Corp grabbed someone’s girlfriend.” Dipper said in a low tone.

Brad gritted his teeth. “You’re threatening me.”

“I’m just giving you a word of advice.” Dipper said smiling.

Brad felt embarrass, he cleared out his throat and back away. Walking out. People head back to what they were doing.

 “Glad you’re here Dude.” Nate ruffles Dipper’s hair. He chuckled.

“That jerk’s, serves him right.” Thompson raised his hands. They laugh as they head back to their seat.

Wendy smack of his arm. “Ow! Hey what’s that for?” Dipper said, rubbing his arm.

“You! You surprised me.” She crosses her arms.

Dipper smiled. “Did I? How surprised are you?” He teased.

Wendy pursed her lips and gave him another smack.

“Ah!”

She then held his arm and said. “Thank you for saving me.” She smiled.

Dipper looked at her. “That’s what a boy friend would do.” He smiled.

She chuckled. She waved her hand gesturing Dipper to lean closer.

As soon as he leaned down to her. She kissed his forehead.

Surprised, Dipper blushes. She chuckled.

“Thanks for being my boyfriend.”

He blinked. What?

“You said that you are my boyfriend. Then you are!” She smiled.

---

Here's another (and last) of my Wendip prompt. I had this idea for since the other day and wrote down the scenes, until I came up with something. I had to make another OC named Brad, (just snap on my head). Finally I did  finish this which I thought I couldn't. Note that I haven't proofread it so excuse the typos and grammar errors. (I'm not good in english). Enjoy.

[lovehaswonangelnumbers]

New Post has been published on https://lovehaswonangelnumbers.org/full-moonwe-are-ready-to-harvest/

Full Moon~We Are Ready to Harvest

Full Moon~We Are Ready to Harvest

By A Gift From Gaia

We are ready to harvest, all has been seen and now we are at an incredibly crucial point of the year in which much is to be released, a huge data dump creating an incredible amount of space ready for the next phase to load.

These next awaiting timelines are going to be incredibly intricate no matter how you choose to surf as they are the opening “show” to the 2020 Universal Games, have you been focused on creating a clean crisp Sacred Field or did you choose to neglect what entered into your awareness? The process of reap what you sow is likely to show the fruits of our labour very rapidly as nothing seems to linger or drag in these current light frequencies.

Loops tend to be all sparkly, holding attachments, expectations creating huge amounts of over excitement and hormone releases, something in which we have been programmed to believe is positive when in truth its stress and alarm warnings to realign and see the ego anchors.

A new template feels peaceful, guided, calm, no expectations, no attachments and a full willingness to continue following symbols, it’s a completely different energy and this is because the first description is the pattern of the breakdown template, it’s a lot more hyped to assist in creating strong bonds and attachments for them to be eventually broken down FOR the human to realise the pain of avoiding self and attaching to what is outside of self, the second description is the pattern of the rebuild template.

This full moon is one of the portals leading into 2020 that is loading the storyline that we are choosing to surf collectively and within our own reality set. The Piscean Moon, the Harvest moon holds the frequency of a flash release, a chance to quantum leap in any given moment, all you need realise is the WEIGHTING programs you have been holding and choose to load a more expanded awareness, ditch the unconscious and move into fully conscious.

As we continue to process the unity consciousness coding we are observing the bleeding out of all that is separated, all that is rooted in the abandoned inner child, much is centred around support or rather the lack of it, unconscious humaning blames and allows the victim to take the lead, conscious BEing sees the gift in distortions and uses it as a navigational tool to move into lighter fields, when our heart is open we allow the feelings to be Seen, validated, and receive the loving guidance from our feminine within, and without question, without judgement our masculine honours the request and brings to action the request of the heart, the lack of support is no longer split, because we learn to support and trust fully within, a reflection of the twinflame, which was only ever your divine flame burning within, nothing is ever external from you and to place a label on another such as twinflame only every shows the attachments and expectations, more beliefs to eventually release.

The light is now set to continue increasing faster and faster from here on in, for the foreseeable future and the more we action from within the unity consciousness coding the more magical the possibilities for all, raising the frequency of our light grid creates shifts and changes that are more aligned to the fields of joy, peace and unconditional everything which we all can experience if we choose, that’s the point its always a choice, if you live with restriction, non-acceptance, avoidance, nonvalidating programming then the experience reflects the suffering placed upon self to assist the realisation that this is not THE way and the keys of respect and responsibility will unlock more expansive experiences.

Now with this all being said we can now see that this Full Moon wave that’s now incoming is set to create a flush of rapid movement in all directions. Firstly the Moon is part of a square with Mars, Jupiter, Neptune which will bring a turnaround, something will be disclosed and I’m sure plenty of what many choose to avoid will be staring them straight in the eyes, the flip side of this is going to open those new opportunities too, new paths opening right up especially anything concerning new ways and projects aligned to unconditional love, keep releasing that which you become aware you hold attachment in order to continue the rapid unification, the moment the distortion is spotted, move it through the realise and release phases, there is always portals of renewals when all connected are open to expanding.

Mars stirs the feelings of inadequacy, the rise creates conditions that allow the programs of victims, vanity, people pleasing, manipulation to be Seen….and clowns…this transit may have you singing “clowns to the left, jokers to the right….stuck in the middle with….”

Bed down in the Full moon flow, increase Light Practices and steer your ship out of the over excited or over nervous waters….its that peaceful stream, that divine flow…that’s our navigational route through here.

The Full Moon conjunct Neptune will rain the codes to grow the dreams we planted in the well-tended fertile soil of our realities or highlight where perhaps the neglect to care and tend means witnessing those old dreams spoil, those seeds that never were given the chance to germinate….we live and learn, I am not sure anyOne of us ever listened the first time, but never fear, nothing is ever actually missed, seeds never grow if they aren’t cared for, it was never meant to be, it was always meant to highlight where you haven’t cared and not been prepared to work, deep within…..its simple, just not so simple to the human program, however now you are aware and you can just flip it….

What I find particularly interesting about this Full Moon is its opposition to Denebola, the star in the lions tail and we must be very aware, we all know how the cats tail seems to have a mind of its own, that cats get mad at their tails, oh and most will end up biting if we bother the tail end too much, this is echoed in its energy, it holds non conformity, a need to break from the pack so to speak, which ultimately means a new pack is about to enter, but not before a “whip” of that tail.

This star really echoes the movement and the gives the eyes to see how the next wave of ascension is about to be incredibly visible, it will resemble a split as many move away from outdated realities, relationships, agreements, career however its actually a quantum leap sized stretch of the spectrum, as the gridkeepers begin to anchor the new phase of the ever expanding evolutionary process. Denebola suggests the rise and fall but I would balance this with the vision of the expansion, when unconscious its seen as lack, however through an expanded awareness it becomes opportunities that are Seen and we know, that nothing changes until its observed and validated.

Opportunities arise to release from such a very deep level, all it takes is to align the experience, mentally, physically and energetically, understanding the behaviour of the energy is the only way to be onboard with the requests, from your Soul.

A full moon in opposition is a duality clash, catastrophe or out of this world amazement, the two huge waves of polarity are going to smash against the collective rocks for a magnificent clearing, awakening, shaking and ultimately expansion.

If you feel as though you are being taken into the deep, then switch those divers lights on and See what you went down for, the opportunity to flip this switch is HUGE which is ultimately a huge frequency shift for mankind, collect those gems hidden in the depths and rise to the peaceful waters within to begin figuring it all out.

Sun Conjunct Denebola raises dis-ease which is ultimately exactly what a release/purge is, I know many are noticing things just leave, I woke up a few weeks ago without a nicotine craving, a simple adjustment in my field, leading me to realise some more wounded masculine patterning, once realised, it all just shifts itself and is simply beyond incredible, there isn’t a word to describe the cocktail of amazement, joy, peace, magic…..ahhh its just one big glass of cosmic deliciousness, especially when you realise there is always more!

With the Sun conjunct Denebola there is only one place to go, its within, its to listen to the guidance of the physical vessel because its true to say we are all being guided to realise and release that which is trying to leave, realities showing abandonment, feelings rising, beliefs and programs all becoming agitated in order for the validation process to begin.

Cosmic surfers we are about to receive, we are moving through a wave that gifts such vast opportunities, as we move through the last weeks of September we begin to push forward as Saturn closes class on the 18th, another rebalancing on the equinox, we are surfing high angels and things just aren’t going to look the same when we next touch down.

Also, Denebola is known to bring weather change….

Lets also not forget this full moon is in opposition to Venus, Mercury and Juno…..something tells me you have the picture already so Ill just top up with a little prediction we will then be due a switch into light solar winds to give us a little more fire in the belly, more activation energies!

We are super expanding with purpose angels, preparing for the incoming new year!

Please place a heart in the comment box to keep A Gift from Gaia alive in the body of Facebook and feel free to SHARE. If you would like to join the inner circle of A Gift from Gaia and receive the lights gems of how to surf, how to release programs, how to activate your DNA and OH so much more then please email agiftfromgaia1@gmail.com

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[toldnews-blog]

New Post has been published on https://toldnews.com/world/africa/global-health-in-african-villages-these-phones-become-ultrasound-scanners/

Global Health: In African Villages, These Phones Become Ultrasound Scanners

BUSHORO, Uganda — Lying on a church pew with his arm over his head, 6-year-old Gordon Andindagaye whimpered a bit — in fear, not pain — as Dr. William A. Cherniak slowly swept a small ultrasound scanner up and down his chest.

Dr. Cherniak and Rodgers Ssekawoko Muhumuza, the Ugandan clinical officer he was training, stared at the iPhone into which the scanner was plugged, watching Gordon’s lung expand and contract.

“O.K.,” Dr. Cherniak finally said. “What do you recommend?”

Gordon had a persistent cough and swollen lymph nodes, and looked tired and unwell. As other boys ran around outside, kicking a soccer ball made of rags and twine, he clung weakly to his mother. The scan on the iPhone’s screen suggested his lungs had fluid in them.

As Dr. Cherniak nodded approval, Mr. Muhumuza prescribed an antibiotic, and ordered blood tests to rule out tuberculosis, malaria and H.I.V. He arranged for Gordon and his mother to get a ride to a local clinic for an X-ray and a night of observation.

Dr. Cherniak, an emergency medicine specialist from Canada, said he would upload the scan that evening so an ultrasound specialist in Toronto could double-check the diagnosis: early-stage pneumonia.

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The diagnosis was made possible by a new invention that Dr. Cherniak hopes will revolutionize front-line global medicine: a hand-held ultrasound scanner called the Butterfly iQ.

The Butterfly is about the size of an electric shaver. It is battery-powered and contains microchips rather than piezoelectric crystals, so it usually won’t break if dropped. (That was accidentally tested a few times during a week that a reporter spent in rural Uganda with Dr. Cherniak’s team.)

For Butterfly Network, the Connecticut company that makes it, the profitable target customers are doctors and nurses who can afford a $2,000 device that fits in a coat pocket and is as portable as a stethoscope.

But the scanner also has huge potential in rural Africa, Asia and Latin America, where the nearest X-ray machine may be hours away and the only CT and MRI scanners may be in the nation’s capital.

“That was my real motivation for making it,” said Jonathan Rothberg, Butterfly’s founder, who initially pursued the goal because one of his daughters had a disease that caused kidney cysts needing regular scans.

“Two-thirds of the world’s population gets no imaging at all,” he added. “When you put something on a chip, the price goes down and you democratize it.”

The Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation is one of his backers, as are the investment arms of other family philanthropies.

“My team is engineers and computer scientists,” he said. “We’d love to be able to save lives the way doctors do, but we can’t — so every tweet from Africa about the Butterfly is an incredible adrenaline shot for us.”

He has donated scanners to medical charities working in 13 low-income countries, seven of them in Africa. Several went to Bridge to Health, a Canadian charity that Dr. Cherniak founded six years ago; it works closely with Kihefo, a medical charity based in western Uganda.

For now, the scanners are primarily used to check for pneumonia, which is a major killer of children in poor countries and is frequently misdiagnosed. But Dr. Cherniak’s team has found other fascinating uses for the devices — which they deployed under conditions almost as stark and dusty as those found in battlefield medicine.

Kihefo runs what might be described as a traveling medical circus. Each day at dawn, its roustabouts drive a truck loaded with collapsible tents into a different village and erect them on whatever flat ground they find — perhaps a patch of goat-gnawed grass between the school and the church.

To improvise examination tables, they borrow the wooden school desks and church pews, pad them with yoga mats and screen them with thin purple curtains.

An hour later, the Canadian-Ugandan “brigade” rolls in — vans full of doctors, nurses, dentists, chiropractors, gynecologists, ophthalmologists and pharmacists, accompanied by local clinical officers and medical students, all toting huge bags of equipment. (Yes, hockey bags — it’s a Canadian charity.)

While the dental team fills cavities and the ophthalmologists check eyes, the medical team sees one patient after another, from newborns to nonagenarians.

On a recent visit to this village, the doctors used their Butterflies not just to screen for pneumonia, but to scan other organs.

Checking a large goiter on the neck of a 42-year-old woman, they learned that it was pressing on her windpipe, meaning she would soon need surgery, even though she had no breathing problems yet.

They scanned the lungs of a frighteningly emaciated baby to see if she had tuberculosis. They scanned the swollen testicle of a 54-year-old man and determined that he probably had cancer rather than their first tentative diagnosis — fluid draining from worm-infested lymph glands.

Scanning the abdomen of a child with a penis birth defect, they learned that his urine was backing up, threatening him with kidney damage — a problem that a simple operation could correct. They scanned a lump in the chest of a 96-year-old man and concluded that it was probably not cancerous because it lacked blood vessels.

Particularly challenging was the case of a 51-year-old woman with a lump on her neck. In part because she described a long history of what sounded like tuberculosis, they initially suspected scrofula.

(Scrofula — once called “the King’s Evil” because medieval monarchs claimed to cure it by touch — is caused by TB bacteria clumping under the skin. )

“I went to a healer who stabbed me with fire,” the woman said, describing a traditional method for draining an abscess: heating a knife in a fire and plunging it into the lump. It hurt a lot and healed nothing, she said.

Scanning the lump, Dr. Cherniak saw that it had veins, meaning it was not an abscess and appeared to be attached to a blood vessel.

“See it pulsing away?” he said to his trainee as they looked at his phone. “You don’t want to go anywhere near that. If I did a biopsy, it could bleed a lot. Now I know not to muck around with it and get her to a surgeon.”

Some cases remained mysterious. A knotty lump in a 70-year-old woman’s thigh seemed to be neither a tumor, cyst, abscess nor fat deposit. Dr. Cherniak’s best guess was that it was the broken-off tip of a stick she said she had been stabbed with decades earlier.

Through a translator, he explained that he could remove it surgically, but the procedure would be painful and the wound might get infected.

“It’s like a bullet you leave if it’s safer to not remove it,” he said.

She decided to live with it.

Even more mystifying was a woman who appeared to be over 70 but whose belly was so swollen that she looked pregnant.

Doctor after doctor tried scanning her; the gallons of fluid in her abdomen had shoved her organs far from their customary places. Surprisingly, her liver seemed normal — doctors initially had guessed the swelling resulted from alcoholic cirrhosis.

But no one could find her spleen. “What if it’s ALL spleen?” Dr. Cherniak mused. “Could it really get that big?”

Various theories — a blocked liver vein, lesions from a sand-fly parasite, a mucus-emitting tumor — were discussed. Finally, all agreed that she needed further scans that only a hospital could do.

The Butterfly’s diagnostic potential is enormous, Kihefo’s founder, Dr. Geoffrey Anguyo, said enthusiastically: “But the question is, how much training is adequate?”

Learning to interpret the fuzzy black-and-white images on a cellphone screen and recognize all the organs, blood vessels, valves and whatnot inside the body — and to do it well enough to spot tumors and other anomalies — is a skill that can take months to learn.

The Gates Foundation, Dr. Rothberg said, is writing software intended to guide untrained users as they scan. For now, Bridge to Health is focusing on teaching Kihefo’s clinical officers, who get up to four years medical training but are not physicians, to diagnose pneumonia.

Success will be achieved, Dr. Anguyo and Dr. Cherniak agreed, when the officers’ diagnoses agree with those of the ultrasound specialists in Toronto at least 80 percent of the time.

That’s where another aspect of the Butterfly comes in handy: iPhones make it easy to upload scans to the internet.

In Gordon’s case, a Canadian reviewer confirmed the diagnosis but said Mr. Muhumuza needed to improve his technique by holding the scanner at a sharper angle and setting it to project sound waves deeper.

‘See Your Unborn Baby’

Five years ago, Bridge to Health and Kihefo jointly pioneered another imaginative use for ultrasound.

Knowing how hard it is to convince rural women to visit doctors early in their pregnancies, they acquired some portable briefcase-sized scanners and then aired radio ads announcing where Kihefo would set up next the next morning.

“You will be able to see your unborn baby,” they promised.

Attendance at their antenatal clinics shot up sixfold, and women who had previously seen only traditional healers began coming in.

That was important because doctors could offer many kinds of care. Problems that can kill a mother or baby can be detected and prevented early in pregnancy, including H.I.V., syphilis, vitamin deficiencies and high blood pressure.

The success of that program “was how we were able to get support from U.S.A.I.D.,” said Dr. Anguyo, referring to the United States Agency for International Development.

“U.S.A.I.D. was looking for unique ways to check women aged 15 to 30 for H.I.V., and we had a very good ‘trap’ for catching those women,” he said.

Now, with American grants for the war on AIDS shrinking, Kihefo is hunting for new ways to raise money.

One new project, Dr. Anguyo said, helps local farmers switch from raising chickens to raising rabbits. Rabbits eat grass, which costs nothing, so the profit margin is greater than for chickens, which need corn.

Kihefo encourages its farmers to eat some rabbits for protein and sell the rest to pay their national health insurance premiums.

Better pneumonia diagnosis can also slow the overprescription of antibiotics, which hastens the rise of antibiotic-resistant strains of bacteria.

Of the 91 children with fevers and coughs the team scanned in a week, only one in the village — Gordon — had confirmed pneumonia.

That, Dr. Cherniak surmised, was probably because modern vaccines against pneumonia-causing bacteria are working well.

All the children got antibiotics anyway, because Ugandan national medical protocols require a prescription for every child with high fever and cough. That’s common in poor countries, where it is often impossible to get confirmatory X-rays.

(Kihefo’s only X-ray machine, for example, is closed down because the charity cannot afford to build lead walls around it.)

Eventually, if ultrasound gains acceptance, the national protocols should change. “If a clinical officer can say, ‘It’s viral, you can go home,’” Dr. Cherniak said, “you can decrease those wrong prescriptions.”

For Gordon, the prompt diagnosis worked out: a visit to the Kihefo clinic 24 hours after he started his antibiotics found him sitting up in bed, smiling and feeling much better.

[ferrelwarden]

To Be Lost At Sea

        Too quiet, that was my thought for the majority of this year. Faye having moved on and the guild having temporarily dissolved after the whole ‘host’ incident, I have to say I was relatively pleased to have my time to myself again. Few months that was enough. Taking on a few deals, joining up with some old acquaintances it was normal or at least as normal as things get for me these days. It wasn't until a few months ago when an old friend came up to me with a proposition and I realized something might have changed.

        “Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft!”

        Halvar, Hal for short. Met the guy after first arriving in Lion’s arch, gave me my start, or at least the push to it so to speak. “What d’ya mean?” I remember shooting him a cold look after that to which the Norn responded with a huge bellowing laugh. Who knows how this guy managed to sneak around so long, and after he told me he took up piracy I had to agree sea life suited the guy better.

        “Don't play me like that” He would start walking up to me and condescendingly patting my shoulder against the dark wet wall of the tunnel. “Trekking off to the Reach once a month, I know you won't admit to it but ya got friends there I can see it” at the mention of that a pang of annoyance at Faye triggered in my mind. Thinking on it, maybe I didn't miss her so much. “And now!” he would start then stop as if holding back a laugh. “And now you reject my offer for one of the biggest scores you’ve had in over a year.” he shakes his head and moves past me into the light outside. “Whatever Charr” he would toss a wave back which i would nod to grunting slightly. I intend not to follow, still, I can’t say my intentions ever lead me well so I found myself following anyway.

        “How big we talkin’…” I start gruffly, staying a few steps behind the Norn who, now that we were out in the light of day and the warm breeze of Lion’s Arch I could smell the scent of salt lingers on his clothes tattered clothes.

        He would turn round sharply, a knowing grin over his face. “Big” he would laugh heartily “And I ain’t talking ripping off the trading company big, I'm talking busting into the Queen’s throne room big.” I pondered on those words for a second, attempting to not give the Norn any sign I was considering it. Still I was following him and asking for more so maybe the act was in vain. Due to Hal’s reputation I didn’t doubt the legitimacy of his claims but I made a point to scale all of them down by half before really taking them in.

        What can I say, the guy gets me. After walking around Lion’s Arch long enough for the sun to start setting and enough drinks that I could start believed the lofty profits he bragged about I tentatively agreed.

        My only real concern about disappearing for three, maybe four months was Faye, the aforementioned twig that has become a persistent thorn in my side. Even though at this point, one I was strangely unwilling to be rid of. I couldn't let her know what I was doing but at least to shut up her nagging voice in my head I should consider telling her I won't be around.

        So that’s what I did. Sending a bird from the Lion’s Arch docks with the most vague details I could muster that wouldn't trigger some sort of idle brained panic, we were off.

                                                              *****

        At this point I should probably mention what we were doing. Turns out Hal was spending his year a lot more wisely than I had on small petty projects or strange Twig based business ventures. He on the other hand had come across news, some of which I had heard floating around some of the less reputable parts of the city but had assumed was some bullshit rumor. Some old Lion’s Arch shipwreck that hadn’t been found until recently. Hal, as he put it was planning on “Getting down there quick as bloody possible, bashing some heads together and making off with the loot.” Not the best laid plan, but I guess that’s why he wanted me to come along. Unfortunately the only directions we had came in the form of an encrypted note that had been intercepted on the way to the Lion Guard. It seemed it was my job to figure this all out and get their crew to set our target.

        Luckily being an experienced crew it wasn't too hard for them to atleast put the first pieces together. Judging by the bird used and the layout of the seas around here it had to be set in the Sea of Sorrows, at very most the edge of the Strait of Malchor. Fortunately for me, Hal said I was needed, being more familiar with the political side of Lion’s Arch and that gave me a higher chance of deciphering it. He would later add, though a mug of ale that he’d hoped that would give us an edge on any other crew that got wind of this.

        So that's what we did, setting off in high spirits fresh salt air and strong wind freeing up the pressures of land and a heavy mug of ale to bring them all right back. I wouldn’t admit it to Hal as the old brute comes over,  heavily barging his shoulder to my side, but it felt good to be around guys who got my line of work. Not to mention half of them being complete assholes, in the truest sense of the word, helped me settle in relatively quickly.

                                                              *****

        The note took a little longer than I had hoped to crack, tossing what Information I could to the captain. A larger, brutish Charr called Vidar who definitely had a head more for exploration than the politics of Lion’s Arch. We could at least head in a vaguely positive direction.

        By now having gotten close to completely solving the thing, I remember resting back in my chair, taking in the air and closing my eyes to feel the rock of the boat, the wind around it and the clatter of people above. My eyes open, a devastating crunch of wood from above my head. Frowning I quickly pushing myself up from the desk remembering to lock my pistol and sword to my belt before barreling my way up to the top deck.

        What met me, I wasn't quite ready for.

        My experience as part of the crew so far had lead me to connect breaking wood to a few rowdy crew members, nothing that a kick to the back of the leg and a well placed sword wouldn't fix. This on the other hand might get a little messy. The crew, most of which was now up on deck, would be manning cannon as another ship [surprisingly quickly] gained pace on us firing and sending waves of ocean clattering over deck.

        Jogging up to the front I quickly found Hal who desperately set me to carrying cannon balls over as he returned fire. Now I think back on it things should have probably been the other way around. Though I could handle the task easy enough, the Norn was at least two heads taller than me and had a physique more of a warrior when compared to mine that was more used to lifting pens and skirting the darkness of hallways than siege warfare. I imagine I would have considered that at the time but the noise of the waves and the rabble of the crew around me didn’t exactly put me in the mindset for considering my actions.

        It was only now I understood how close the ship had gotten. Feeling the salt spray of the ocean slash over my face and bringing my sight up to see heavy boards thumping down against the side of our own ship. I heard Vidar screaming, maybe spiting would be a more accurate description. “Three of you fix the hull! I want the rest of you dogs to meet them head on, I'm taking those fuckers for all they are worth!” With that he would leap down the stares skidding across the water soaked deck and quickly mount the planks to meet the approaching crew head on.

        I remember [at the time] thinking this was either incredibly inspiring or incredibly stupid i couldn’t say which but I couldn't comment anything on the guys skill. Seeing him displace two of the approaching force to the sea below and a third quickly follow I took my sword in hand as the two planks that weren’t blocked by a wall of angry Charr funneled people onto the ship.

        At this point, things start to get foggy. Initially sticking close to Hal, we try to keep an eye on each other, but the sea of incoming bodes doesn't let that last long. The clash on metal and the ring on gunfire in my ears was not the kind of fighting I was used to so I had to adapt quickly.

        Being used to quick and quiet strikes strangely found the idea of that very alien now, being completely trapped out in the open two opposing forced butting heads I tried to focus on what i knew. I stayed like that for awhile, not taking much in, not more than I needed to.

        A slash to the right.

        Gunshot to the left.

        It seemed to be working for me until I gained a moment of clarity.

        Hal, reeling back against the side of the ship another Norn at his throat. Now that felt natural more what I was use to. Quickly deflecting an incoming strike and kicking my attacker in the chest to loose him in the crowd then tucking down to get lost between them as well, it wasn’t to hard to get over to Hal. Clearly the Norn had been enjoying his time or Hal might have been overboard by now. Taking a deep breath I dash forward as if disappearing and reappearing at his side, raising my pistol and firing as I use my speed to kick the Norn over the side of the boat. Hal seems to out of it to react  but offered a grunt as he gets his breath back.

        Unfortunately I wouldn't have been as stealthy as I might have thought. Seemed my friend knew a little bit about losing himself in the crowd as well.

        Pain strikes its way up my shoulder feeling his sword slash my skin. Spinning on one foot I don’t have time to respond. I hear a bang and feel myself spin off balance crashing back against the side of the boat knocking my head. Swearing loudly I growl, my vision foggy with blood I kick back against the weakened wood of the deck and lunge forward bringing my knee quickly up to his abdomen sending him lurching forward then shoving him back with the butt of my gun, winded and gasping for breath. Looking down at him I try to regain myself. Through my blurred vision I kick him back down to the ground, drawing my pistol, my foot bearing his chest down to the deck.

        Three short bangs.

        I only fired twice, Once to make my point and another to finish it. Moments later I’m thrown forward feeling a splitting pain in the back of my skull. Cursing again I watch as the ship seems to turn on its side and everything fades to black.

                                                          *****

        “Damn it!”

        I clattered back against the back of the wooden headboard as the light seers its way into the back of my skull. Shielding my eye I tried to look around. Noise of movement outside the chamber wall called my attention as I tried to figure out where I am.

        Not dead thats for sure and by the looks of it we are still afloat.

        I attempted to open my eyes again, with more luck this time. Shielding it from the light of the torch though it still stings and even beyond that my vision couldn't quite seem to stay still, my left eye blurred and unclear, burning at the light of the room.

        I quickly decide to keep it closed.

        Using only my right eye now I can put together a more complete picture. Hal pressed into the room followed by a Charr who introduces herself as Ylva. I was in to much pain to care and the laugh of the Norn rang in my already battle weakened ear. “Man they did a number on you!” He laughed shaking his head as Ylva brought a sodden rag up to my other eye. Before I can shoot something snide back in Hal’s direction the pain is back. Cursing loudly I wince as Ylva held my head still as she digs the cloth in deeper.

        “What are you..!” My protest is cut off my Ylvas unimpressed tone. “Alcohol” I heard her start with a little bit of glee in her voice now as she set down a bottle to my side. “Rum! Actually!” she added even more pleased now “Not great use for it but should stop any real infection” she took a moment to think before continuing. “You were lying on the deck quite some time before we got to ya.” she put her hands on her hips as I considered continuing to belittling her but reconsidered it and instead spit out a half-hearted thanks, biting my tongue to not add anything more. She nodded pleased at the reaction and glanced over to Hall who is now Awkwardly checking over my face.

        “How is it?” he started, pointing at what I could only assume is a pretty heavy gash at this point. I frown bringing up a hand to touch the soft tissue of my eyelid, even the roughness of my own pads burn as the pain seems to ward me away from trying it again.

        I considered my words for a moment “Not great, Blurred and anything I am making out is either painfully bright or only serves to confuse the other eye.” I bite my tongue again to distract from the pain that came when I tried to relax my face and let it open.

        Ylva instead responds “Sounds about right” to which she reaches into the draw next to me pulling some black leather patch over my head. I'm starting to get a little annoyed, feeling crowded by the two of them so I start to push myself out of the bed pulling the rest of it on myself. “Open your eyes” she said, which I did and thankfully I found the lack of light helped my good eye finally focus.

        I snort “Great…” I mutter to myself staring over to the light to check before cursing again. Despite myself I nod in thanks to Ylva who throws an unimpressed look at Hal which was returned with a shrug that could only be interpreted as ‘Well-that's-the-Best-You’re-gonna-get’

                                                          *****

        In not to much time, though I still feel my head throbbing from the impact and despite the recommendation from Ylva I get back to my note preferring to have something to focus on rather than being dead weight to the crew. Having the burning pain in the front of my skull to concentrate on didn’t appeal much to me also. Still I couldn't work on it for long. Growing more and more frustrated with myself and the extra distance I had to move my head to take in both sides of my desk between jotting my own notes and the letter itself which by this point is pretty much complete, bar any professional farewells and a few side notes.

        Feeling almost complete with the piece but mostly annoyed I pushed myself off the chair pacing up and down the cabin growling at myself and slamming my fist down hard against the wall. Keep my eyes closed for a second I looked up into the glass of one of the port holes. Its night out and I hadn’t noticed time passing so quickly. That isn’t what struck me so hard though.

        Reflected back at me in the Darkened glass.

        The first thing I remember looking into that reflection was not recognizing the face that looked back, drained and tired, fur still blotched with red and burn marks from before, just under the thick leather blocking my eye from the pain of the light. The second thing that hit me was how much it reminded me of Trib.

        I stood there for a moment staring blankly at the tired face looking back not wanting to consider where thoughts of my sire might lead me. Even knowing that I couldn't help my mind wander anyway.

        I never disliked the guy. Hell after I left he’s the one bit of guilt I have cutting my ties to the citadel so quick. I’d checked on him a few times and he seemed happy. I say seemed, maybe I just wanted to see it that way. He was never particularly close to his partner but the few times I’d managed to catch sight of him she was never around. I wondered if he's lonely. If he blames himself. How he continued on with his life now his old one seemed to be gone but beyond all that, I hoped he still saw me as the Brevet he once knew and not what was looking back at me then. I can’t help but give a quite saddened laugh. Hell if he didn’t think I was already dead he’d probably kill me. That thought, at least, in its grim nature gave me some levity and I made it a point to try to check on him the second we hitch back into port.

                                                           *****

        The next passing weeks that thought didn’t leave my head. Less to my concern were the weekly arriving birds with notes from Faye about her bizarrely normal life to which were replied to with fittingly vague lies. Not long after what I started to referring to internally as the Trib incident I dedicated myself to finishing the note and not soon after that, my job done. The rest of my trip was relatively calm, still adjusting to my new situation, I found myself helping around deck and drinking with Hal recounting his stories and sharing mine from when Lion’s Arch was attacked and hearing about Ylvas experience leaving another crew based out in Gendarran Fields to join up with this one. She expected that would bite her in the ass soon enough.

        Being completely honest with myself, apart from getting used to the less subtle combat situation it was a life I could get used to. Little dedication beyond the men around you and freedom of the worry of the land. It had been awhile since I’d managed to mesh so easily with a group. Thinking back on that now, it was probably thanks to Faye that I’m even able to enjoy these quiet moments right now.

        As the evening calms down and the rest of the crew finish up, I set down to writing her another note, more genuine this time;

            “How’s it going soldier.

           Should be back in a few more weeks. Been thinking

           about ya and hope your store is going well [For my

           wallets sake more than anything else!]

           I won’t be able to pop straight up there when I get

           back, I’ve got some loose ends to clear up will fill you

           In when i get there.

                                 Best of luck

                                                                    -Ferrel Warden”

[ellebeebee]

Seachange

Part Two/Nine

Part One

Mira has to make her first decision about who to wake from cryo.  She’s confused and worried.  Liam helps.

1929 words, Liam/Female Ryder, teen rating

AO3

-

“What about the lab technicians?  How long until production can start rising?” Mira asked.

“It would depend on several factors, Pathfinder,” SAM stated over her omni-tool.  Him using her internal implant still made her head ring sometimes. “First, there is the post-cryo acclimatization period which has varied widely among the current sample population.  Secondly, there will be varying opinions on what research projects to prioritize.  Finally, there is no way to predict the ultimate timelines of these projects.  There are too many variables to say for certain, Pathfinder.”

Mira deflated.  She laid back, the plates of her armor clacking as she flattened herself against the top of the Nomad.  An abandoned datapad sat beside her.  Her eyes clenched at the alien sun straight above her.  Eos’s radiation had come well within acceptable limits since accessing the vault, but the heat could still be overbearing.  She’d have to escape the exposure of sitting on top of her utility vehicle soon; there was already a few drips of sweat collecting at her temples.

Some yards away, the incoming and outgoing shuttles kept shifting the air pressure within the valley, the steep rock cliffs surrounding Prodromos shielding it from the broader menaces of the area.  Distant, unintelligible chatter of the colonists slipped to her through the clusters of prefab dorms, offices, and labs.  She could catch a few words, even under the whine and hiss of the shuttles.  “Acceptable risk.”  “Compatible compounds.”  “Digestible, but at what cost?”

The Tempest shimmered over them all, like a great mirrored bird.  She shifted; one of her… butt plates (there really was no other word for it) was digging into her crack.  She should adjust it when she got back onboard.

“Maybe special forces?” Mira asked. “The kett are a huge problem that’s not going away anytime soon.  And Prodromos is already geared toward science.  Or maybe recon?  I mean, I know I’m biased, but intelligence on kett movements and encampments would help a lot in protecting the colony.”

“I am afraid this is a matter you must decide on your own, Pathfinder,” SAM told her.

Mira sighed.

Who thought this would be a good idea?  Like, really?  Hey guys, let’s give the twenty-two year old Alliance grunt that tripped and fell face-first into this job complete license over the lives of thousands of people.  Deciding the best people to bring out of cryo, the best people to keep up the fragile momentum the Initiative now had?  Psssht, piece of cake for the Pathfinder, right?

Right?

“Ryder?”

Her eyes popped open.  She rolled over to peek over the side of the Nomad.  Liam stared up at her, shielding his eyes with a thick white glove.

“What are you doing?” he asked.  A smile crept about his lips and in the squint of his eyes.

“Um,” she said. “Meditating?”

She regretted the words the instant they left her mouth.  Ugh.  Ughughugh.  Why was she so, like, the complete opposite of witty?  This was why she was recon.  Give her an extended scouting and stakeout mission, any day.  A long waiting game behind a scope.  Anything other than having to deal with the way her tongue dried up and her skin caught fire at the sight of Liam Kosta’s face.

Especially when she was trying to be “Pathfinder.”

“Meditating?  Really?” he asked her, taking another step closer until he could lean his weight against the Nomad.  Except he said it like, ‘Reeeeaaally.’  Annoying.  He could be so annoying sometimes.  Grinning like that.

She sat up, picked up her datapad, and jumped over the side of the vehicle.  She released the landing-tension in her legs, and pushed the datapad into his chest.  He glanced into her face, then took the pad from her.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“All the data on the cryo bays.  I have to decide on who to release.  And soon.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, scrolling without really lingering on the information.

Mira shifted.  They stood in the partial shadow of the Nomad’s enormous tires, but still getting a lot of the heat and glare of the sun.  All of the crew’s suits had internal temp regulators.  (Even Liam’s ballistic-weave, smart fabric gear.)  Still, their faces had a sheen to them.  She struggled not to get mesmerized by the trail a particular bead of sweat at his temple took, down his umber skin and over the hills of his cheekbones.  At least he was wearing a shirt.

But what was with the way he was clearly not looking at the datapad properly?  Was he seeing something she wasn’t, some obvious correct answer that had eluded her?  Was he trying to figure some polite way to tell her she was being an idiot?

Shit, why couldn’t someone just tell her how to do this?

Liam glanced up at her.  He took in her expression, smiled, and leaned past her to place the datapad up on one of the Nomad’s tires. (Nearly pushing his ropey neck, and its scent of dirt and the field into her face, damn him.)  He straightened.

“Got a minute?” Liam asked innocently.

Mira cleared her throat. “Not really?  I have to decide this.  Like, soon.  What do you think--”

He waved his hands defensively around his chest. “Nuh-unh.  That’s above my paygrade, Pathfinder.  But maybe this will help?  C’mon.  It’ll just be a minute, and you’re clearly not making any ground worrying yourself to death on top the Nomad.”

She sighed and rubbed at her forehead.  She needed to rehydrate.  And the braids she kept her hair in while in the field were starting to itch.

“Okay,” she told him.

His grin broadened.  And before she knew what was happening, he’d caught up one of her armored gloves in his hands, his own gloves tucked into his waistband.  As he tugged her into a trot away from the Nomad, her stomach turned and fluttered.  His hand was large, and enveloped hers even with her armor.  Carelessly, blunt-cut fingernails.  A cut or two on his fingers from tinkering with tech.  And if she could feel his skin with her own, she’d bet there was a bit of roughness; gun and grenade callouses.

But after only a few steps, he let go.  Her stomach dropped.

Well.

Just as well.  Pathfinder business, right?  Big, important problems, right?  She couldn’t be dumb like this, getting distracted.

Ugh.

Sans-the hand holding, the two of them kept trotting to the edge of the valley, toward a staggering in the sheer cliff face.  Mira pulled up, avoiding the sudden heavy pressure and loud air blast of Liam’s jump-jets.  She glared up at him, orange dust and skree skittering around where he stood above her on the rock face.

“C’mon,” he called down at her.

Mira muttered to herself for a moment, but followed anyway.  Soon, they were several meters above the valley floor.  And eye-level with the nose of the Tempest.  She hadn’t noticed they were that close to the ship.

Liam cleared his throat, catching her eye.  He pointedly nodded his head in the direction of the Tempest’s hull.  She looked at their ship.  Then at him.

“You can’t be--”

“You’re the Pathfinder,” he grinned, grabbing her hand again. “You can do what you want.”

“That’s not exactly--”

But she had to stop her protest as he bent his knees, preparing for the force shift of his jump jets.  She bent too, and then-- the thrust of their jets pushed them out into empty air, floating for just a moment.  Liam clutched her hand, and it wasn’t just the weightlessness, that totally brief divorce from the pull of gravity, that turned her stomach over.  It wasn’t just the jump that caught in her throat.

They landed on top of the Tempest with a loud boom.

“Ryder!  Again!?”

Mira let go of Liam’s hand, fumbling her omni-tool. “Sorry, Kallo.  Last time, I promise.”

Liam was snickering, so she punched his shoulder half-heartedly.  He shook his head and, still grinning, walked away to the other side of the ship.  Arrayed around them, nestled within the embrace of beautifully striated cliffs, sat the infant colony of Prodromos.  People-- humans and asari and turians and salarians-- walked between buildings, chatted in the shadow of eaves, lifted cargo from the shuttles.  Evening wasn’t that far off, and soon they’d all be gathering in the mess halls and private kitchens.  Chatting about the day’s discoveries, its trials.

She watched for a moment, aware of Liam looking at her.  Finally, she turned to him.

He was smiling.

And the sun’s reflection off the ship’s hull-- so merciless and vivid-- clung to the deep sepia of his skin, the broad nose, the lips always so generous with a smile or a laugh.  The light clung to his dark and coarse coils, to his black stubbled jaw, to his adam’s apple.  And, to her perception at least, the sun was all caught up in his accent; his dumb, terribly funny, and always honest turns of phrases.

“See?” he was saying to her, waving out toward Prodromos. “This was your doing, Pathfinder.  Without you?  The Initiative would still be grinding itself down, burning resources, with no way to establish an outpost.  You made this possible.”

“You were there, too,” Mira stated, letting her gaze wander.  She made herself bring her eyes back up, though.  Eye contact.  Right.

He grinned, noticing.

But he went on without commenting, “Yeah, but without you… Look, Mira, this?  It’s good.  You’ve done good.  There’s so much more to do, but you’ve got this.  And we’re all behind you.” His own gaze slid to her again. “I’m behind you.”

A tension she hadn’t noticed, right in-between her shoulder blades, underneath her jump jets, released.  Just those words, and he’d undone something in her she hadn’t even known she’d needed.  Tears threatened to crawl up her throat.

He was looking out over the colony, all caught up in light and optimism and-- goodness.  That’s what he was, Liam Kosta.  That’s exactly what he was.

“Shit,” he said softly, smiling at Prodromos. “It’s beautiful, huh?”

“No, you’re beautiful,” Mira instantly said.

Liam’s head whipped around. “What?”

She stared back. “What.”

As he stared at her, what she’d said fully hit her.  Blood flooded into her face, and she did not ever want to know what sort of expression her gaping mouth and flown-wide eyes composed.  Liam’s soft smile had exploded into a broad grin, and she couldn’t stand it, so she slapped her hands over her face.  Her armored gloves no doubt leaving red marks.

“I don’t--,” Mira stumbled, “I mean-- I didn’t say that--”

“I dunno, have you checked my medicals?  ‘Cause my hearing’s pretty good, and I could have sworn you said--”

“SAM!” she stopped him loudly, practically shouting.

“Yes, Path--”

“I meant SAM!  He’s beautiful!  You know, the blue sparkley orb thing.  It’s… It’s really… He’s really…”

She peeked over her hands and instantly regretted it.  Liam was still beaming at her, eyes totally reading: ‘You are so full of shit.’

“Thank you, Pathfinder, I think you are beautiful as well,” SAM intoned with absolute sobriety.

Liam lost it.  And she could only glare at him full-out laughing for so long before she got all caught up in giggles, too.

Liam finally pulled up from where he’d been hunched over, helpless.

“Ryder-- you,” he wheezed, chuckling. “You-- You’re really, really bad at this.”

“Shut up,” she said, slapping his shoulder.

He only started laughing again.

Damn him.

-

“You thinnnk I’m beauuutiful.”

“Nope.”

“Yes, you doooo.”

“No.”

“You thinnnk I’m beauuutiful.”

“You’re fired.”

He just laughs.