#completely forgot the danes were looking for a new manager
Note
https://www.fotbollskanalen.se/landslag/avslojar-jeglertz-aktuell-for-forbundskaptensjobb-/
Interesting. Linköping's coach is apparently one of the persons interviewed to become Denmark's new head coach
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Did Fate Screw Us?
Summary: Everyone has a Soul Mark. Yours just happens to make you miserable. Your brother, Ken, tries to make it better, but between work and having to care for your siblings, telling Tooru Oikawa that you’re his soulmate really isn’t on your agenda.
TW: Mentions of animal abuse, child neglect, there’s some swearing, a little bit of angst.
A/N: This was supposed to be a cute little one-shot, but it’s over five thousand words and there’s some angst, but it has a happy ending I swear!
You stared down at the tattoo that wove it's way up your arm, the turquoise and white and a strange shade of brown all interwoven and twisted together, coming to a stop right above your heart in a ball of tangled colors.
It was your Soul Mark, a permanent tattoo everyone got when they turned ten years old. Yours was different from everyone else's though. Most people had a small bracelet tattoo over their veins, others had a small ball above their heart like the one where your tattoo ended. Others even had tattoos that covered their entire hands.
Yours though, yours went from the tips of your fingers all the way up your arm, over your shoulder, before sliming to a ball over your heart, whorls and smears of ink that covered your skin.
Your mother had cried the first time she had seen it, but had never told you why.
You had figured it out, years later, in history class.
The bigger the mark, the more skin that was covered, the harder the relationship would be.
You had started to hate the mark after you figured that out. You had thought maybe fate had screwed up somehow.
Even the universe could make mistakes right?
But then you saw him for the first time.
Tooru Oikawa, an amazing setter.
You had gone to the same middle school, and you'd seen him around in the halls. You had seen him smiling at a pretty girl in your last year there. Everyone was figuring out who their soulmates were, getting crushes and getting over the whole cooties phase.
He was attractive, he was smart, he was an athlete. He was everything society wanted him to be. Except for his mark.
He had always seemed do proud of it, despite it's size, the white and turquoise curled around a color the same shade as your eyes.
You had seen his mark, looked down at yours, and immediately known what was going on.
You hadn't talked to him though, you had realized, even at such a young age, that he was going to be great, that he was going to do amazing things, and that you would only distract him
You had started to cover your mark up, getting up early to cover it completely in concealer, wearing a sweater in the winters as an excuse.
You thought that after middle school you wouldn't have to worry about it.
But then you walked into class on your first day of high school at Seijoh.
He was right there, sitting in class with Iwaizumi, Hanamaki, and Matsukawa.
He'd glanced up at you when you walked in, before going back to talking to Iwaizumi, tattoo on full display.
You kept your head down, you went through the motions, you avoided him whenever possible.
Until the next year, when your brother, Kentarou, joined the volleyball team.
Kentarou, as much as he looked like a delinquent, was a good kid. He was scary looking, but he was sweet, and he always had a hug for you when you needed one.
Which was more often than you would've liked to admit.
"Ken, you need to stop forgetting your phone," you chided as you handed your baby brother his phone. "What if Kaida needs us and I don't answer?"
"I know, I'm sorry, I thought I put it in my bag this morning," he grumbled, taking a drink from his water bottle.
"Just . . . try to remember okay?" you asked, moving your head to look at him.
"Alright," he mumbled.
"Good boy," you teased, ruffling his hair.
"Stop that," he hissed. "You'll get that skin shit in my hair."
"It's called concealer, dumbass, and no I won't."
"Is Kyouken-chan willingly being touched by someone?" a voice cooed, and you tensed when you saw Oikawa step towards you.
"Who's your friend Kyoutani?" Iwaizumi asked, looking at you.
"My sister. Kyoutani (Y/F/N)."
"You two look nothing alike," Iwaizumi said, glancing between the two of you.
"Ken looks like our father, I got more of our mother's looks," you said, trying to act like you weren't being drawn to the setter, like your entire being wasn't aching to be nearer to him.
He was looking at you quizzically, before his eyes darted to your hand, then back to your eyes.
"Remember to text me when you get home," you told Kentarou. "Oh, and I'll be late again tonight because I have a shift at the shelter. Make sure to feed the dogs, and get Kaida to bed on time or so help me, I will ground the both of you."
"I will," Ken hissed.
You nodded to Oikawa and Iwaizumi, walking as slowly as you could manage towards the gym doors.
Once the door was safely shut and you were far enough away, you crouched by the lockers, taking deep breaths.
He must've felt the pull. He must've. There was no way he didn't know now. All your hard work, down the drain just because your little brother forgot his phone.
What if he wanted to talk to you? What if he wanted to try and make something work? What if he wanted to be with you?
"I have to get out of here," you muttered, bolting for the entrance to the school.
________________________________
Your panic subsided when you went to school the next day and Oikawa didn't try to talk to you. Kentarou had remembered everything so you didn't need to track him down, so it was a good day.
Until you got to work.
"We have a new arrival," you supervisor told you.
"Uh oh, that doesn't sound good."
"Well, they don't seem to be taking very well to any of our other members. I figured if anyone could get him to calm down, it was you."
"Breed?"
"From what we can tell, a Pitbull Great Dane mix. Cops raided a dog fighting ring."
"Poor babies."
"They found four litters of puppies. Three with six and one with eight."
You shook your head.
Despicable.
"Here he is."
"Oh, poor baby," you cooed, taking in the light brown dog as he trembled in the corner of his kennel. "Hey there fella," you said softly. "Is he violent?"
"Nope, go right ahead," your supervisor said, leaving you to do your job.
"Hey, it's okay," you murmured, stepping inside, shutting the door, leaning against it.
The dog reminded you of someone, with it soft brown eyes and lighter colored fur, but you couldn't place who.
"It's okay," you promised. "I'm not going to hurt you. See? No sharp sticks or shocking guns. I promise, I'm not going to hurt you. I know that it's loud in here."
You slowly stretched your hand out so he could sniff it, watching for signs of aggression. You had enough bite marks to know that sometimes random little things triggered a dog.
No sudden movements and you would probably be fine, but you wanted to make sure.
Slowly, the dog lifted it's head, stretching out it's neck to sniff your hand, licking your palm lightly.\
"There you go. See? I'm not going to hurt you," you said calmly, moving to rub his head softly.
His hackles raised slightly and you drew back.
"Okay, no touching yet, that's okay, we can work up to that," you said.
"Did you get him to calm down?"
"Yeah, but warn everyone not to touch him, he got a little agitated," you told your boss when he came back ten minutes later.
"Do you want this one?"
"If you wouldn't mind giving it to me, yes. I want to make sure he's safe before we give him to a family."
"So he's your responsibility when you're one shift now."
"Alright. Can you get me a harness?"
__________________________
As soon as you stepped through the door after your shift, your little sister Kaida was throwing herself into your legs.
"(Y/F/N)! You're home!"
"Hello little dragon, have you eaten?"
"Sort of, I made myself a sandwich when I got home, but Ken isn't home yet."
"Alright, did you do your homework?"
"Yes," she said proudly showing you her scribbled on math homework.
"Good girl," you cooed. "Go watch some TV while I start dinner, yeah?"
"Alright!"
You smiled fondly as she bolted to the living room.
At nine years old, your sister had the same coarse, frizzy hair of your brother, and she wore braids most of the time to control it, but when she got home for the day they came out. She was such a bubbly person, especially for someone her age, and she made you smile everyday.
You found a pot and filled it with water, digging out a box of pasta.
The door slamming twenty minutes later signaled Ken's return and you smiled at him when he threw his bag down.
"How was your day?"
"Long," he grumbled, moving to the living room, probably in search of Kaida.
He came back in five minutes later and said, "I know you worked today, go sit down, it's my day to cook dinner anyway."
"Thank you," you told him, snatching the brush he had in his hands.
He grunted, moving around the kitchen, taking over.
"Kaida, come here, I'll help you with your hair," you called, and she plopped herself in your lap eagerly.
"You're much better at this than Ken," she told you, making you laugh when Ken made a protest in the kitchen.
"Ken tries his best but he doesn't understand how it feels to have your hair pulled."
You quickly worked your way through her hair, letting it calm you as well as her. She told you about her day, and about how she had met this really cute boy on the way home that had just moved into the neighborhood.
"His name's Takeru Oikawa!"
Ken dropped something in the kitchen and you dropped the brush you were holding.
Your brother knew Oikawa was your soulmate, and you had both agreed to keep it between the two of you until you were ready to face it.
"Ken, are you alright in there?"
"No," he snapped, stepping into the living room.
"What did you drop?"
"I'm not hurt," he told you, waving you away when you rushed over.
"What's with the reaction?" she asked, turning to look at you both.
"We . . . we might go to school with a family member of his," you said. "Did he mention someone named Tooru?"
"Yeah, that's his uncle."
You let out a breath, picking up the brush.
"Sorry we freaked you out baby," you murmured, running the brush through her hair again.
"It's okay," she replied, leaning back into you.
"If you want, you can invite him out for a playdate," you told her.
"We said we'd walk home with each other," she said.
A lot of the kids in the neighborhood walked to school together in big groups, kids who's parents worked early or had older siblings that couldn't take them.
"Okay sweetheart."
"When's Mommy coming home?"
"Late, sweetpea," Ken told her. "She's taking another shift at the hospital this month."
"Oh," Kaida said, deflating a little.
"Dad said that he could take you this weekend if you wanted," you told her, making her perk up.
"Really?"
"Yep, do you wanna go?"
"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!" she shouted.
"Okay, go call him," you said, smiling at her enthusiasm.
"You work too hard," Ken mumbled when he sat down. "You look tired."
"I'm fine," you assured him. "Besides, there's a new dog! I think you'd like him."
Ken nodded, slumping onto your shoulder.
"You really should talk to him."
You opened your mouth to argue, but Ken interjected.
"I know I say a lot of shit about him, but he is a good guy, and I think he'd be good for you. I also think he deserves to know."
"He's not going to want me Ken," you said. "He's going to take one look at me and this mark and he is going to laugh and walk away."
"Not everyone is Mom and Dad," Ken grunted.
"I know that," you snapped, then winced. "I know that, but . . . I also know how much he loves volleyball. I know how hard he pushes himself to do better, be better. I'm not . . . I'm not the kind of person he's going to want, or the person he needs."
"You're soulmates, if anyone is made for him, it's you!"
"Mom and Dad were made for each other," you reminded him. "Mom and Dad were soulmates and look how they turned out. Not to mention Grandma and Pops!"
Ken sighed.
"Just . . . think about it please. He wants to know you. All he talks about is how amazing they're going to be and how beautiful they are. He doesn't even know it's you."
"Ken, if he knew me, he'd hate me."
"If he did then he'd be missing out on a lot."
"Ken, you're required to say that."
"I'm not. I'm telling the truth."
You rolled your eyes, but patted his knee.
"Get back in the kitchen, you're gonna burn dinner."
____________________________
A few more weeks went by, and everything was good.
Kaida and Takeru were fast friends, and when she wasn't playing with him, she had gotten hooked on volleyball, just like her brother.
Takeru had taken a liking to your house as well, so there was more giggling going on now.
It made you happy that she had such a good friend, someone that made her smile like that. She had never had many friends.
"Kaida, I want you to remember that I have to work tonight, and that Ken is picking you up, alright?"
"Okie dokie!" she said, dashing into the community center where she was learning to play volleyball with Takeru.
As soon as you got to the shelter you headed for Kuma, the mix that had come in. He still really only liked you, but that was okay.
"Hey big fella!" you said when you walked into his cage.
He had really come out of his shell, he liked the friendlier dogs, and you had brought Ken in, so he was okay with someone other than you.
He didn't like cats, but he didn't seem to mind little children.
"You wanna go for a run?" you asked, holding the harness in your hand.
He jumped and gave a happy little noise that you took as a yes.
Kuma was only about a year and a half old, and he still had the energy of a puppy.
"Okay boy, come on," you cooed, hooking the harness on, opening the door. "I'll be back in twenty minutes!"
You loved going on runs with Kuma, one because no one gave you any problems, two because it gave you the exercise that you missed out on in school. You took the job in lieu of a club, and this gave you the exercise.
"Hey (Y/F/N)!"
"Ken? What are you doing out here?"
"The team is on a run," he said, crouching to pet Kuma, who licked his face. "I saw you and bolted ahead."
He was right, the rest of the boys seemed to be catching up to him and Kuma looked at them excitedly.
He was becoming much more friendly with other people as long as they didn't work at the kennel.
"That's a big dog," Iwaizumi muttered when he slowed down. "Is that yours?"
"No, he's a new rescue that came in earlier this month. This is Kuma, and he's a very good boy."
Iwaizumi let the dog sniff his hand and laughed, rubbing his ears.
"You two need to stop rushing ahead," Oikawa chided, bent over his knees panting.
"Kyoutani was the one that ran off yelling! I wanted to make sure he wasn't gonna deck some poor soul."
"I'm not that bad," Ken muttered.
"Puppy!" Oikawa shouted when he straightened. "Can I pet him?"
"Yes," you said, after making sure his yell didn't startle the poor dog.
"What's his name?"
"Kuma, for now, but when he gets adopted they might change it," you said, scratching his back lovingly.
"(Y/F/N), let's be real here, if you have it your way, you'll be bringing him home," Ken mumbled.
"And that wouldn't be a bad thing. I'd feel better knowing that you and Kaida weren't home all alone with two little terriers as protection," you snapped. "Especially since Takeru has been coming over! No one would ever really wanna mess with you, would they baby?" you asked, cooing to the dog, who licked your cheek.
"How do you know my nephew?" Oikawa asked, suddenly straightening.
"Your nephew is now my d-" you paused, catching yourself. "My little sister's new best friend. Kaida Kyoutani?"
"Shittykawa, how did you not put that together?" Iwaizumi asked.
"They look nothing alike!"
"Bullshit," Ken coughed, glancing at you.
Your wrist buzzed and you sighed.
"Great, now I get to go get mauled by a bunch of five-year-old's and a bunch of five month old puppies," you moaned, waving your brother off Kuma. "Come on boy, let's head back. Remember Ken, you have to pick Kaida up. Mom won't be home tonight, she's pulling a double shift, and Dad said he might stop by. Pops is coming by on Saturday to see us, and I want the house cleaned before then because you know how Pops gets. I feel like I'm forgetting something."
"Homework, food, and bills."
"Bingo," you said, snapping your figners. "God I hate my life," you muttered. "See you later little brother. Come on Kuma, let's get back," you said, breaking into a sprint towards the shelter.
_________________________________
"I'm late, I'm late, I'm so fucking late!" you muttered, rushing through the halls to get to your first class, ignoring the weird stares and murmurs you were getting.
You, Ken, Kaida, Takeru, and Tooru, had somehow managed to get wrangled into a movie night.
Oikawa had dropped his nephew off, and then gotten sucked into the chaos with you and your brother.
Ken was right, he was a good guy, but he had kept staring at you.
You had felt the pull all night, and you had tried to act normal, but something was off.
You were trying to ignore the way you thought he was cute curled up with your sister and his nephew, the way the dogs were at his feet, tails wagging.
He was attractive, and he was smart, and funny, and good with kids and dogs, and he was determined. He was everything you would ever want . . . but were you?
Were you all he would ever want?
The thought kept you awake through the movie, and once you had fallen asleep, you were dead to the world.
You had stayed up so late that you had slept through your first alarm, then your second, and then your third. You had barely managed to get the other two out the door, and you had completely forgotten about yourself until you got halfway out the door before you realized you were still in your pajamas.
You were late to first period, your mark wasn't covered, and Kyoutani didn't have his books for his third period class.
You were this close to a mental breakdown and it showed.
"Are you alright?" Oikawa asked quietly when you snuck into your seat.
"No," you muttered, stuffing your hand into the folds of your skirt to try and cover the mark.
He kept quiet for the rest of class, but he was waiting for you after class ended.
"Do you need to talk about it?" he asked.
"Talk about what?" you asked, heading for your brother's classroom.
"About how you're raising your brother and sister."
"No," you replied. "I'm handling it."
Oikawa arched an eyebrow and scanned you.
"This doesn't happen every day," you assured him, carding your hand through your hair to try and control it a little more.
"How often do you see your mother?"
"Every couple of days usually."
"What about your father?"
"Every few weeks," you told him. "Look, why do you even care?"
"I . . . I don't know," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
"I don't mean to be rude, but do us both a favor and stop asking questions. You won't like what you dig up," you muttered, walking into Ken's class to drop off the books he forgot.
Oikawa looked like he wanted to say something, but one of his fangirls pulled him aside, saving you the trouble of telling him to get lost.
_______________________________
Nothing really changes over the course of the next months.
You do end up bringing Kuma home, Oikawa stops asking questions, and everyone seems to be happy.
He somehow didn't see your tattoo, or if he did, he decided not to say anything about it.
You become a third year, Ken quits the team and then joins again.
Kaida and Takeru get their Soul Marks, and Takeru meets his soulmate the month after.
Kaida hasn't met hers yet, but you're sure that she will soon.
Takeru keeps coming by, bringing his soulmate, who is now also very good friends with Kaida.
Oikawa and the others are training and becoming stronger.
Ken finds out that his soulmate is Yahaba, who is more than happy to avoid that for now.
But then their tournament is coming up, and they can't avoid it, so they start to work together.
You see Yahaba slam your brother into a wall at the game, and you see Seijoh's defeat by the hands of Karasuno, who move onto Shiritorizawa.
You're there to catch your brother when he cries into your shoulder and you assure him that he did his best, that this is not his fault.
Kaida cries with him, and then she cried with you, even when she doesn't understand why you're crying to begin with.
"I want to talk to you," Oikawa tells you one day when you go into the gym to drop off something Ken forgot.
"About?"
"The fact that we're soulmates."
You choked on your own spit, eyes wide when Oikawa reaches for your hand.
"No."
You said it so forcefully that he actually took a step back.
"No?" he asked, confusion and surprise mixing together on his face.
"No, you aren't going to want this. You aren't going to want me. This isn't going to work," you told him, pulling your hands to your chest.
Your panicking, and you know that you're probably overreacting, but . . . you don't want to trap him with you.
So you do the only logical thing you can thing of.
You run.
_______________________
He was chasing you!
He had run after you the second he got over the fact that you were running. You were dodging people, heading for the doors.
Why was he chasing you? Was this so important to him that he was willing to miss practice to talk to you about it?
"(Y/F/N)! Stop, just talk to me," he called, pushing through people, trying to catch up to you.
How far were the doors?
Would you make it?
Suddenly, a hand latched onto yours and you were pulled into an empty classroom and you struggled.
"Stop it," Oikawa hissed. "I just want to talk to you about this."
"Talk about what? The fact that our relationship is pretty much doomed from the start?" you snapped, trying to wrench your wrist away from his fingers, which were like iron.
"What do you mean 'doomed from the start'?" Oikawa asked.
"You pay attention in history, right? The more skin the tattoo takes up the harder the relationship."
"Fuck the history textbooks," he snarled, tightening his grip. "My mother always told me the more skin the tattoo took up the more my soulmate would care for me. The more we would love each other."
You let out a wet chuckle.
"Who's right?" you asked, staring him down as you both stood there, wills clashing as your worlds collided.
“Let’s find out,” he said, moving to grip your hands in his.
“What?” you asked, trying to jerk away.
“I said, let’s find out.”
His brown eyes bored into yours as you stared at each other.
“I want to know, (Y/F/N), if this is something I am going to want. I want to know if this is something you are going to want. We won’t know unless we try. So let’s fine out. Let’s find out together.”
He wasn’t going to let this go, you knew that. He wasn’t going to let this go until he found out.
“Alright.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
_____________________
“Are you sure that you can’t move to Argentina with me? They’re willing to pay for you to come with me,” Tooru said, trying to bribe you.
“I can’t just pack up and move to Argentina, Tooru! What about Ken and Kaida?” you asked, leaning back against his chest to get a better look at him from where you were perched in his lap.
“Hire a babysitter!”
“Tooru!” you chided, hitting his arm lightly. “You know I can’t do that. I have classes starting here in three months. I want to be here for Ken and Kaida until I know that they’re on their feet.”
“But . . . you’ll be so far away,” he moaned, tightening his grip around your waist.
“So? You can still text me every day and you can call me whenever you want,” you told him, kissing his cheek lightly. “Besides, I’ll go to every single game you play against Japan and you can come home for holidays.”
“But . . . what if-?”
“Tooru,” you said, twisting around so you were straddling his hips. “You survived without me until four months ago. You didn’t even know we were soulmates, I think you can survive this. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to stop loving you while you’re gone.”
“You two really can’t keep your hands off each other can you?” Ken asked.
“You can’t say anything little brother,” you retorted, gesturing to where Yahaba was perched in Ken’s lap.
He flushed, but Yahaba chuckled.
“She has a point Ken,” he teased, toying with Ken’s fingers.
“So you really won’t come with me?” Tooru asked.
“You know I can’t. Maybe when I’m out of school and Kaida graduates,” you said, settling back around.
“But that’s so far away,” he whined, burying his face in your neck.
“Doesn’t matter,” you told him. “No matter where you are, what lifetime we’re in, how far apart you think we are, no matter who tries to keep us apart, I will always find a way back to you Tooru. The universe will always find a way to keep us together,” you assured him, taking his hand.
“Promise?”
“I swear it on us,” you confirmed.
“Why us?” he inquired.
“There’s nothing I believe in more than that.”
#soulmate au#oikawa x reader#oikawa imagine#tooru oikawa x reader#haikyuu tooru#tooru oikawa#fluff#angst#what have i done#this was supposed to be a one-shot
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Challenge Zimtober
Day 17. Home
Day 1
Previous <—> Next
Here we go. the beginning of the future arc and the incredible experience that Dib had
Oko belong to @owosa and thanks for tranlated it <3
Dib awoke to the strident sound of an alarm. His ship's alarm to be precise.
Confused and with a racing heart, the first thing he did was fall out of bed in a mess of blankets as he desperately tried to get to his feet. When he managed to free himself, he went running to navigation to see what happened. The red lights and the sound of the alarm didn't help reduce his panic.
-"... Holy shit" It was the only thing he could express when he saw the dark mass with an aura of distortion around him. A wormhole was in front of him and his ship was being drawn straight into the center of it.
This was normally not a problem, many ships were designed to use those as shortcuts to travel between the universe. Too bad his ship wasn't one of those ships designed for hyperspace travel.
He knew there was no turning back, the hole was going to suck him in and the chances of the ship not disintegrating were particularly slim but he wasn't going to give up that easily, HA! of course not. He took the controls of the ship and tried to divert its course by turning the power of the thrusters to the maximum. He only managed to win just two seconds before the hole swallowed him completely.
...
The ship stood still, dancing through space aimlessly, slowly but surely moving away from the wormhole where it had emerged just seconds before. It had all happened too fast to even think other than that for some reason, his ship endured the journey.
Dib was too stunned to congratulate himself on a good job building the ship, so he just sat in his seat about to throw up. It was an indescribable sensation,as he got back to his senses.
We can guess that molecularly separating to rejoin was not a pleasant thing.
He sincerely thought that possibly he had some fused organ.
He approached the commands to find out where the hell he had appeared only to discover that he had run out of power. Well, all was not lost, he simply had to wait for the energy to recharge again…
Oh well, nothing to do anymore. He went back to his small room at the back of the ship and got himself into bed. He had no control over the ship until it reloaded. If he was going to die, let him do it well rested.
Upon awakening, the lights were on which meant that the ship simply reactivated itself. He didn't know what else to do but take pride in building a ship capable of withstanding hyperspace travel without even realizing it. Hah!
He once again went to navigation to locate in which coordinates he was now.
….
The universe would have to be laughing at him, he was in the damn Milky Way fortuitously close to the solar system, HIS solar system. He literally could have ended up anywhere in the HUGE universe and he had to end up right in the last place where he vowed not to return.
He was just about to change course when he stopped short. Perhaps he could take this opportunity to pay someone a visit. The thought of it left a bitter feeling in him for a bit and made him feel guilty to the point of simply wanting to go ahead with his plan to turn around, but his sister's words echoed in his memories and he resisted the urge. He breathed in and out strongly setting course for planet Earth.
The trip was short and he was easily able to locate the area of the planet where he wanted to land. Everything was going pretty normal until he entered the exosphere and noticed that something was wrong. The atmospheric stabilizer was not responding, SHIT. Which meant that the appropriate speed had to be manually managed to penetrate the ozone layer and well the problem with that was the possibility of bouncing if it did not reach the appropriate speed or that the ship would scorch a bit if it was overshot and the option of go back was no longer available. Well, surely the ship would survive although the landing would be… well rough at best. The decision was made by putting on whatever seatbelt the pilot's seat had.
Sure enough, the landing was horrible but at least it survived the impact and he hoped the ship had suffered no more than he had in mind. Although the biggest surprise was received when he got off the ship.
Before hitting the ground, the only thing he saw was
dense vegetation, so the last thing Dib expected was an immense empty city under that vegetation. Actually that was a lie, the LAST thing he expected to find was a pack of dogs surrounding his ship.
-"....wtf" he said simply, his mind still trying to connect the loose ends. A huge black Great Dane that was almost as high as Dib approached the human and cocked his head to one side as a clear gesture for him to follow in the indicated direction. He stepped back in distrust. Several dogs approached Dib and began to direct him, some chewing on his clothes and others at him.
They pushed insistently with their heads for him to follow.
"Hey! Stop! What are you doing?! " For every step the dogs tried to take with Dib, he took another two backwards, the absurd struggle going on for a while until the Great Dane looked closely into his eyes as a warning growl escaped his throat. He raised his hands in somewhat uncomfortable surrender to have this beast so close to him. After the canine victory, the Great Dane turned around, resuming his march.
It was there that he discovered PAK.
...wait what?!
A closer look made him realize that all the dogs had a PAK. An Irken PAK.
Oh no, it couldn't be true, the earth had been invaded by the irken armada and they used dogs to dominate humans. Dogs, human’s great and only weakness!. HOW COULD THIS HAVE HAPPENED?!
WAIT. Perhaps there were other simple explanations for this, what about humans? Where were them? It was flat daylight and the street was empty…. They were slaves working in mines drawing resources! And this city was just abandoned! It must be that! If not, why were there dogs with PAKS in an empty city?.
They made him get into a vehicle, leaving the dogs behind except the Great Dane, who sat next to him. During the whole journey he did not move an ear. Dib forgot what it was like to be uncomfortable in a quiet room with someone else, even if he was with this...thing, and spent the whole way fiddling with his hands in an attempt to focus his attention on something.
The fragrant sunlight was replaced by the grim, artificial light from the tunnel they entered. They didn't know where they were taking him but he would be prepared for anything.
The car stopped and without him being able to argue much, Dib was taken out of there, being accompanied by the dog-thing to a large room where there was… By Jupiter. In front of him was an immense irken Control Brain.
His knees trembled and he fell to the ground as he slammed a fist on the ground dramatically.
DAMMIT! THEY DID. THEY CONQUERED EARTH! He was only a couple of years off the planet and they took advantage of his absence to conquer it without him knowing.
Without him noticing, several mechanical arms began to scan him and when they finished, a small holographic figure appeared in front of Dib, that due to his small dramatic act, did not immediately took notice.
"...OKO ?!" And then it all made sense. "YOU HAVE INVADED THE PLANET WITH YOUR DOGS?!"
Oko's hologram tilted her head slightly. "Invading Was Never My Duty." she answered calmly with the same monotonous tone that he remembered.
"Oh... Then why are there ghost towns ?!" There was a moment of silence in which Oko tried to understand what the human in front of her was referring to.
“I Detected A Ship With Various Irkens Elements Approaching The Planet. I Ordered The Humas To Stay On Their Home To Protect Them When I Calculated Where You Would Crash.”
“… Oh well, that also made a lot of sense”…wait a second “Why should humans even listen to you?!"
"Because It Is My Duty" The hologram sensed the growing confusion of the human and there was a movement behind her. In one of the screens of the room, several images began to appear, which left the man stunned.
Happy walking families, futuristic structures, vast plains of vegetation among much more.
"No way... it’s that...the Earth?"
“Yes, Human-Dib. I've Been Taking Care Of It For More Than 7 Centuries.”
“Wha- Wait!…. 7 centuries?! How is it possible?!, it can't be true, I-... "
“I win~"
A spark ran through his
shoulder and he quickly turned his neck towards the voice he had just heard. There she was, leaning on his shoulder, half lying in the air. Alma.
"ALMA?!" In an instant, her face full of pride and glee was replaced by sheer disbelief
"DIB?!"
Dib also began to make faces of utter disbelief as she tried to utter words that she didn’t know how to choose or could express. He looked at Oko while pointing at Alma, but she made no sign of understanding what was wrong with him. He went back to the Floating Alma and she just shrugged.
After the day he was having so far and for the sake of his sanity, he just shut up and let it go for now.
"Your Arrival Is Certainly Unexpected And Clearly Interesting. This May Be An Important Chance To Convince Your Paternal Unit To Stop Exploiting Resources Of The Planet In An Unsustainable Way.”
Was his father still alive?! Well, at this point he didn’t know why he continued to be surprised.
The talk with “Control Brain” Oko had been intense, he still had too much to assimilate, too ...he still didn't know if all this could even be real. Either way, Dib was following a dog named BFT 222750 who was taking him to his new apartment until a few days passed and Oko determined that everything was in order with him.
Great, he was going to be quarantined.
"So ... can you see me?" Alma had appeared next to Dib, moving in the air in time with him. There was also that.
"Are you real?" he asked.
"I think so, are you?” Dib pinched his nose with his fingers and sighed.
"I don't know, I'm still trying to get out of the shock of all this to think about it...” Dib looked at the specter of his friend. She looked just how he remembered her.
"You are dead?”
"Did you expect me to be alive after more than 700 years?" He could hear a slight laugh coming from the ghost and for a second, the stress of the whole crazy day was gone.
"Welcome home, Dib"
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Galactica, Chapter 33 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica
A/N: Heya darlings! Hope you’re still with us! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫
Last Chapter: The Galactica crew headed back to New York.
This Chapter: Violet receives a pleasant surprise, Jinkx meets her crush, and Fame makes a decision.
***
Courtney hurried down the block towards the subway stop in the rain, dodging other pedestrians, her phone pressed to her ear.
“Courtneyyyy, didn’t you miss me?” Adore whined. She was trying to convince Courtney to come to brunch at her new girlfriend’s apartment, which honestly sounded kind of nice--after all, Courtney liked Pearl a lot, and she was thrilled for Adore that she’d succeeded in snagging her dream girl. Unfortunately, brunch just wasn’t in the cards on that particular day.
“Yes, but I have to work, I’m sorry.”
“But it’s Sunday, come oooon!”
“You don’t get it, Adore,” Courtney sighed. “Violet’s been gone all week and I need things to be perfect when she walks in.”
“But you don’t even like Violet!” Adore countered.
“I never said that!” Courtney exclaimed defensively. And it was true. Yes, sometimes she complained about the way Violet talked to her and ordered her around. And yes, she was often frustrated by her own seeming inability to ever truly please her, but when it really came down to it, she did respect her coworker. “It’s not that I dislike her, she’s just a little difficult sometimes. But I want her to see how hard I’ve been working-”
“I don’t know why you’re working so hard to please her when you could please me by coming to brunch,” Adore pouted.
“I’m sorry, Dore, but knowing Violet, she could very well be coming in today, so I have to get everything together ASAP.”
“Ugh, fine! I hate your job!” Adore exclaimed, finally hanging up.
As Courtney descended the stairs into the subway station, she did her very best not to think, ‘Me too!’
***
“Here you go.”
“Thank you darling.” Fame smiled as she took the coffee cup Patrick handed her. It was early noon, the sun high in the sky.
“You’re welcome.” Patrick grinned, and Fame looped her arm in his, Charles by their side, the dog waiting patiently for his humans.
They were on their way to Carl Schurz Park, the entirety of it fenced in, and they even had a part of the park reserved for bigger dogs, which was a real concern when you owned a Great Dane.
“Come on boy,” Fame pulled the leash, and Charles woofed with excitement, Fame unable to keep in a laugh at his enthusiasm.
***
It was nearing 6 am on Monday morning, and as usual, Violet was the only person in the building besides the doorman.
She had spent Sunday in bed, her mattress on the floor nothing like the Parisian king sized bed, jetlag hitting her like a freight train. Though Violet still felt heavy and slightly nauseous, she had managed to get to the gym before work, the familiar routine wonderfully comforting.
Violet took the elevator to the 25th floor, making her way past reception. Violet had expected the office to be dark, but it seemed like Courtney had left the light on over the weekend, an extremely hypocritical mistake from someone who loved to lecture other people about waste and the environment.
Violet swiped her keycard, the little beep allowing her into Fame's outer office. She put her hand on the glass door, taking one last, final, deep breath, preparing herself for an absolute catastrophe as she opened the door, but instead of scattered papers, forgotten cups of coffee and chaos, Violet saw Courtney sitting at her desk, the office perfectly clean.
Courtney looked up from her computer with a smile and a cheerful, “Good morning!”
“Courtney?" Violet closed the door behind her. Courtney was wearing a light blue sweater, her blonde hair styled in big wavy curls, sparkling silver stars in her ears.
“How was Paris?”
"Paris c’est Paris.” Violet looked around, wondering if Courtney had just shoved everything underneath the desks or inside the closet when she had heard her approach. But instead, she spotted the table, where rows of neatly labeled folders were lined up, along with Miss Fame’s phone sheet, schedule for the day, as well as a week overview.
“I don’t understand…”
Little flags marked all the places where they required Fame’s approval. Looking for the catch, Violet pulled open a drawer in the file cabinet beside Courtney’s desk, and instead of the crammed-full mess of papers she expected, saw newly color-coded file folders in perfectly organized rows.
“You're here early?"
“Yeah,” Courtney chuckled. “I guess I got used to coming in at the crack of dawn while you were away. It’s so much easier to get things done before everyone gets here.”
"Yes." Violet walked over to her desk, still genuinely surprised at how tidy everything was. "It is." She put her bag on the table, unbuttoning her jacket. "I had expected-" Violet cut herself short. "It's nice that I don't have to start the day cleaning up."
Violet turned on her computer, the knowledge that she'd actually get to the emails she had largely ignored while in Paris more than she had hoped for.
She used the time while her computer was starting up to turn on the kettle, shocked to find the little kitchenette as immaculately clean as the office; every item on the shelf in perfect order, labels facing out. She went back into the bullpen to look through paperwork, sure that she’d find something amiss.
“I tried to organize everything to make it easier for you,” Courtney said, gesturing to the folders. “There’s all the notes and reference photos from the shows for the meeting later, press requests, event invitations, and Miss Fame’s upcoming schedule. I thought she might want a light week so everything in purple is tentative.”
"Thank you Courtney, this is very... adequate work."
The last time Violet and Courtney had talked on the phone, Violet had told Courtney to get her head out of her ass, and somehow, after months, it seemed like it had finally happened.
Courtney was actually doing her job, and doing it right. Violet was pleased, but she couldn’t help be a tiny bit suspicious of the sudden improvement. She supposed, though, that it was best not to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“I'm glad you decided to use your time wisely while I was away.”
“I tried,” Courtney said earnestly.
“Keep it up,” Violet said, turning back to her computer. “You should cover this morning's meeting with Jaida.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” Violet nodded, noting down on her schedule that maybe, just maybe, Courtney was finally ready to cover meetings on her own.
***
“You gonna eat your bread?” Jinkx asked, gesturing to Bianca’s plate.
“Help yourself,” Bianca laughed, pushing the plate towards her friend with a slight shake of the head. They were sitting at one of their favorite cafés, having an early lunch now that Bianca was back from Paris. “You’re like Adore, always trying to eat from my plate.”
“You love it,” Jinkx giggled, mouth full of crusty sourdough. Bianca would probably deny it to her last breath, but the truth of the matter was that she loved taking care of everyone around her.
“It’s just crazy that I have so many of you damn kids. Me, the least maternal person on the planet.”
“You’re very maternal,” Jinkx argued. “Just like...hmmm, in more of a dad way?”
“Whatever. Finish your broccolini.”
“See?” Jinkx grinned triumphantly.
Bianca rolled her eyes. “Anyway, you were supposed to tell me about the meeting you had with that producer. What happened?”
“Oh! Omigod, it was so great. We talked about how I’ve been slowly taking bigger and bigger roles, kind of working up to another lead...”
“Yes?” Bianca leaned forward, clearly intrigued, exactly what Jinkx wanted.
“And he thinks that it’s time for a revival of-holy shit…”
Jinkx stopped mid sentence, mouth agape, eyes glazed.
“What? Into the Woods? My Fair Lady? Gypsy?!”
“Ivy Winters…”
“I don’t know that show, is it British?”
“No,” Jinkx groaned, jutting her chin in the direction of the hostess stand, where Ivy was standing, looking absolutely radiant in a maroon wrap dress--Jinkx had always been told growing up that redheads shouldn’t wear any shade of red, but Ivy was proving that rule completely false. She was just stunning.
“Oh…” Bianca glanced over, head cocking slightly. “Isn’t that Raja’s assistant?”
“Yeah, I guess. Awkward, huh?” Jinkx shook her head. “But omigod, she’s so cute, and okay we’ve never spoken, exactly, but I can tell she’s just the sweetest, kindest-”
“Ivy!” Bianca waved to the girl, catching her eye. “Ivy Winters!”
“What are you doing?” Jinkx hissed through gritted teeth.
“You said you’d never spoken.” Bianca smirked, her hand still in the air. “I’m fixing that.” She beckoned Ivy over, flashing a big smile. “Hi! How are you?”
“I’m...fine, Ms. Del Rio, thank you. Just picking up lunch for Raja.” Ivy looked slightly puzzled as to why she’d been summoned. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Yeah, I realized that I forgot to return Raja’s call this morning. Was it time sensitive?”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” Ivy smiled, adorable as ever, the little gap between her teeth on full display.
“Great, great. Tell her I’ll call as soon as I’m back in the office,” Bianca said, then smoothly transitioned to, “Ivy, you know Jinkx Monsoon, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t think we’ve officially met.” Ivy met Jinkx’s eyes, extending a delicate hand towards her. “You’re Alaska’s friend, right?”
“Yes! Yes, I am. Nice to meet you. Ivy, was it?” Jinkx shook her hand, smiling madly. She knew she probably looked like a loon, but she couldn’t help herself, something about Ivy just made her feel so absolutely wonderful.
“Yeah.”
“Such a pretty name. It really suits you,” Jinkx said, then realized she was holding the girl’s hand far too long and dropped it, stammering out, “I, I...I love your bag. It’s really...uh, very beautiful.”
“You think? I do some quilting in my spare time.” Ivy tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, blushing slightly. The bag in question really was remarkable--quilted velvet embroidered with an intricate botanical design.
“You made that?!” Jinkx exclaimed. “Oh my god, what talent! Bianca, did you see?”
Bianca nodded, hiding an amused expression behind her water glass.
“Yeah, it’s just a little hobby, I-oh!” Ivy turned to the waiter, who was approaching with a takeout bag.
“Order for Gemini, here you go,” he said.
“Thank you.” She took the bag gratefully and then turned back to Jinkx. “Um...nice to meet you, Ms. Monsoon-”
“No, no, please! That’s my mother! Ha ha! Um, call me Jinkx!”
“Of course, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry! Um, it was very nice meeting you. Officially, you know. Ha ha. Very lovely.”
“Yes,” Ivy smiled again, taking a step backwards, then said, “And I’ll be sure to get your message to Raja, Ms. Del Rio.”
“Thanks, Ivy!” Bianca waved as she exited, waiting until she was out the door before turning back to Jinkx and exhaling. “Wow…I just realized I’ve never seen you flirt sober before.”
“Was it terrible?”
“Excruciating,” Bianca reported with a light cackle.
Jinkx whimpered, letting her head drop onto the table. She knew that Bianca was right--things used to be so easy, but these days? She was so awkward. Not that she regretted her sobriety, exactly, but….
“Sorry, red. Yikes.”
“I mean, I know my skin is better and my kidneys are healthy again, and I can like, hold a job and all that...but go-od…”
Bianca laughed, reaching across the table to pat her lovingly on the back.
“You’ll be alright. So tell me...what’s the show?”
Jinkx perked up immediately, brown eyes sparkling as she said. “Well...I almost don’t want to say, because obviously it’s not official yet and if it doesn’t happen that would just be awful, but-”
“Tell me!”
“Evita.” As Jinkx delivered the news, she was now smiling so much that her cheeks started to hurt. Her dream role, since she was a kid. And it was almost maybe hers.
“Hell yeah, bitch!” Bianca gave her a high five. “Back on top!”
“High flying, adored,” Jinkx said drily, and Bianca cackled loudly.
***
Courtney shifted on the hard cafeteria seat, avoiding Violet’s eyes as they ate their lunch.
She’d been helping Violet put together the packets for the afternoon meeting, and when they finished early, Violet surprised Courtney by asking if she wanted to go down to lunch together while Fame was out.
It was great to have done decent enough work that Violet didn’t snap at her all morning, but at the same time, the kindness from her coworker made Courtney feel even guiltier than she already did.
Neither Violet nor Fame had noticed anything amiss in Fame’s office--which was a relief. Courtney had fully expected to get interrogated over a paperweight moving 2 inches to the left or some other thing that she’d neglected to fix after the Willam disaster.
And now, as she sat with Violet, both of them quickly eating their salads, the guilt continued to eat away at her.
“The collection was absolutely wonderful, I unfortunately didn’t get to see it on the runway, but Miss was asked backstage, and I was allowed to come as well, so-”
Violet was actually talking, sharing about the shows and the clothes she had seen.
“I think you’d genuinely enjoy what they’re doing with silk-”
Courtney didn’t care about fashion as deeply as Violet did, but it was nice to hear her be enthusiastic, and it was the small smile Violet gave her when she accidentally caught her gaze that broke her.
It made her feel just awful, unworthy of trust or kindness.
“Violet,” Courtney burst out, interrupting her coworker, “I have to tell you something!”
Violet paused, surprise clear on her face.
“Something… Something bad happened last week.”
“Is everything okay?" Violet sounded genuinely concerned, and Courtney felt even worse.
“I’m...you know that guy I was dating?" Courtney asked, chewing nervously on her lip, throat feeling dry and scratchy. How was she supposed to explain this?
"Oh?” Violet looked confused. “So it’s not work related?”
“In a way, but, also not-”
“So it’s a romantic situation?"
"I mean...I guess? But it’s more that he- You know-"
“Courtney.” Violet heaved a sigh, cutting her off with a wave of the hand. "I appreciate that you want to share, but I don’t think I have anything worth saying about your love life.”
“Well-” Courtney stopped, suddenly realizing how foolish it would be to unburden herself this way. Instead, she should probably just count her lucky stars that nobody knew, that she still had a job and an income and a way to stay in the country, and shut her damn mouth. The guilt sucked, but she could live with it--she had to. “Right. Right. Sorry.”
“It’s your own business,” Violet tilted her head slightly. “You don’t need anyone’s-” Violet was cut off as her phone vibrated, the screen lighting up. “Oh shit.”
“Miss?”
“Miss.”
***
Raja drummed her fingers on the table. Fame had moved the meeting up 45 minutes, and Raja could clearly feel that she hadn’t had anything to eat since that morning. Normally, she would be fine, food not really that important, but today the moved meeting felt especially insulting since she knew that her favorite lunch was getting cold on Ivy’s desk.
“And then we have-“ Fame paused, Raja realizing that she hadn’t actually paid attention to what she was saying. “Urgh.” Fame groaned, and everyone sat up, Raja clearly sensing how they were all ready to jump in. “Where’s-“ Fame shuffled her papers, her lip between her teeth. “Courtney?!” Fame snapped her fingers, not looking up.
“Yes Miss?” Courtney pushed out from the wall, stepping up to the table, Raja not even realizing that she was the assistant who had been present.
“Packets, please.”
“Right away.” Courtney smiled, and Raja turned in her chair to watch her grab a stack of folders. She had never noticed Courtney much, her own personal assessment that the assistant would barely last the first month, but as she watched Courtney hand everything out, she almost looked put together.
“Here.” Courtney gave Fame the last packet, the blonde taking it without even sparing a glance in Courtney’s direction.
“If everyone could turn to page 5 please,” Fame flipped through, another sound coming from her. “Courtney,” Fame held out her hand, “I need-”
“Of course.” Courtney said, cutting her off as she handed Fame one of her favorite pens.
“A pen….” Fame looked up, her blue eyes focusing on Courtney. “Huh.”
Raja quickly held up her papers, hiding a smile. It was so rare to see Fame be surprised, and while Courtney was only doing her job, it seemed like it was time for Raja to actually pay proper attention to her.
“Anything else?” Courtney tilted her head, a smile on her lips.
“No.” Fame clicked the pen, putting it to her papers. “That’s all.”
***
“You’re humming.”
Violet looked up from her computer, her mouth falling open. “Oh…” She could feel herself blush, light heat rising in her cheeks. “Sorry.” Violet hadn’t realised she had been humming, but so far, she had had a very pleasant Thursday morning.
“No, no,” Courtney shook her head, “It was nice. What were you singing?” Violet considered for a second if it would be worth responding, but she had gotten more used to Courtney, the blonde no longer as mindlessly chattery or overly bubbly. “I didn’t recognize it.”
“It’s Tchaikovsky.”
“Gesundheit.”
Violet rolled her eyes, not dignifying Courtney’s obvious tease with a response, when the phone rang in Fame’s signature tone.
Violet reached out, getting the phone only seconds before Courtney, and Violet raised a brow in surprise. Before Paris, Courtney had been avoiding Fame’s calls like the plague, but it seemed like something had finally changed.
“Hello?” Violet bit her lip as she noted down Fame’s rapidfire morning instructions, the rustles on the phone clearly telling her that Fame was putting her coat on at home. Violet was cut off as Fame hung up, the paper in front of her filled with instructions.
Violet looked up, ready to pass the instructions on to Courtney, which was when she noticed that Courtney had already printed the phone sheet, and that she was pinning the day's schedule without being told that she had to do it.
“Courtney.”
“Yes?” Courtney spun around. She was wearing appropriately muted colors, everything for once looking cohesive.
“If you sweep the office,” Violet reached under her desk, reaching into her bag. “I’ll get the coffee.”
“You?” Courtney sounded genuinely confused, her fingers already closed around the fabric of her jacket, and while Violet didn’t want to acknowledge it, she was pretty sure she was feeling proud. “You never get the coffee.”
“I do,” Violet stood up, her purse in hand, “when I know that I can leave the office. You stay here, where it’s warm.”
***
“Yeeeees! High five!”
Pearl smiled brightly, reaching over to high five Adore. When she’d called earlier suggesting that they spend the day together, Pearl had been expecting something entirely different. She was a Del Rio, after all, and Bianca was notorious for her enjoying all the finest luxuries life had to offer. But unlike her sister, Adore seemed to have endearingly low-rent taste. She’d shown up at Pearl’s door with a case of PBR, armfuls of snacks from the corner Bodega, and a request to play video games.
The two of them had been vegging out for hours, first playing Grand Theft Auto, then Streetfighter, now onto RockBand, only leaving the sofa to pee and answer the door for the pizza guy, Trixie and Katya accepting Adore’s bribe of extra cheese and garlic knots with no complaints at all.
“You are rocking the mic, girl!” Pearl said, “Although I guess that’s to be expected from an actual real-life rock star.”
Adore smiled, clearly pleased at Pearl’s praise.
“Thanks, baby. You’re not too bad on the guitar either. Maybe you should join us at our next gig.”
Pearl laughed and took a swig of her beer, flipping through the song choices.
“I think my rock career needs to stay strictly virtual,” she said, nudging Adore gently with her foot. “But you do have to tell me about your next gig. I can’t wait to see you perform.”
“Yeah?” Adore’s eyes lit up happily.
“Yeah bitch, it’s not every day you can say you’re fucking the lead singer!”
Adore giggled, lashes fluttering as she pulled Pearl in for a sticky kiss, her mouth tasting like the sweet and sour gummy worms she’d been eating.
“Uhh...do you wanna-”
“Yes! Living on a Prayer!” Adore laughed, looking at the TV screen. “You’re going down, Liaison!”
“That’s exactly what I was about to suggest,” Pearl said with a sly grin.
“Well shit, I’m not gonna say no to that!” Adore threw down her mic and let Pearl grab her hand and pull her into the bedroom.
***
“Is this all of it?”
“Yes Miss.”
Fame swallowed a sigh. She knew that the budget was important, knew her meetings with Jaida were a necessary evil, but that didn’t stop her from being bored to tears whenever a set of numbers was in front of her. They had been slightly more bearable when Patrick had been overseeing the finances, watching her husband yap away about budget cuts at least somewhat interesting as long as his sleeves had been rolled up.
“Violet-” Fame saw Violet pause at the door, her fingers gripping the doorframe. “Stay for a moment please.”
“Yes Miss.” Violet turned around, “Open or closed?”
“Open doors are fine.” Fame had to hide a smile, Violet so wonderfully obedient, the clever little mouse asking without words if she was in trouble or not. “Come sit.”
Violet walked over, the sound of her heels disappearing in Fame’s white carpet. Violet sat down, her black skirt taking up most of the white velvet chair, quickly tugging her feet under the chair. “What can I do for you Miss?”
“What do you think of Courtney’s recent performance?”
“Me?” Violet sounded genuinely surprised, and Fame waited for a second, just to watch Violet squirm, the other woman obviously uncomfortable, and oh how she’d miss it.
“Is there anyone else in here?”
“No, no of course-” Violet was smoothing down her skirt, her hand gliding over the fabric, her brown eyes wide. “No.”
“So?” Fame raised a brow.
“Courtney is…” Violet took a moment, her lip between her perfectly white teeth. “Adequate.”
Fame bit down on a grin, Violet’s sense of humor so wonderfully dry.
“She’s exceeding expectations.”
“Good.” Fame leaned back in her chair, not noticing how Violet was tugging at her skirt over and over again.
“Is there-”
“I want you to proceed with the paperwork for your promotion.”
“Oh?” Violet sat up straight, quickly putting her notebook in her lap. “Should I-”
“Trixie will have to wait until Courtney is fully trained, of course.”
“Fully?” Violet hesitated, and Fame loved how obvious it was that she wanted to ask, the look in her eyes desperate as she was searching for a way to say what she needed without sounding stupid. “How much longer will that-”
“Violet, don’t be silly.” Fame smirked, “It’ll be when she lives up to your satisfaction of course.”
Violet’s eyes widened. “So, that means, if she’s-”
“Adequate?” Fame so enjoyed using Violet’s own words against her. “That’s all.”
#rpdr fanfiction#thedane#veronica#galactica#jivy#adore x pearl#courtney act#adore trash#miss fame#violet chachki#jinkx monsoon#bianca del rio#ivy winters#raja gemini#pearl liaison#lesbian au#fashion au
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Three strikes and you're out
Oneshot featuring two fan apprentices, and a quick appearance by Asra. Slight NSFW? Word count: 1664.
A little story Dane wanted and that I happily wanted to write x’D Enjoy!
Eisa knew her twin brother well. She knew what he liked to eat and drink, what he liked to do... and to her displeasure, WHO he liked to do - which was anyone who gave him a spark of interest. She never complained, Fenris was after all his own person and if he liked to sleep around, he was free to do so. In fact it wasn't always negative, because the times he was outside working there were always more customers in the shop than when he wasn't. Yes, in a way she was using her brother to increase business, but he liked the attention so it was a win-win situation for the two of them.
Or at least it had been, until one particular evening when Eisa came home late, having been away most of the day searching for very specific ingredients. She walked in with a sigh, closing the door behind her.
”I'm back, Fenr-”
”AAAH!”
She almost jumped out of her skin, dropping the things she held in her hands, as someone screamed, followed by muffled voices from the backroom. She stood there frozen, just listening for a moment as she heard shuffling on the other side of the drapes, someone walking into a hard surface with a loud thud before Fenris surfaced, limping slightly and looking at her with a faint embarrassed smile, his clothes dishevelled.
”Uhm, hey sis. I didn't know-” He mumbled, attempting to tuck his shirt back into his pants as a woman's voice rang out from behind him.
”F-Fenris? I.. thought your sister wouldn't be home.” She said, poking her head out inbetween the drapes. ”Hello.”
The woman attempted a smile. Eisa finally realized what was happening, crossing her arms as she raised an eyebrow at her brother. If Fenris seemed embarrassed, the woman was ten times worse, her face flushed in a very vibrant red. Eisa sighed, letting her arms fall to her sides again as she turned away to pick up the supplies she had bought.
”Sis- Eisa, I am sorry...” Fenris started while taking a step towards her, but Eisa just held up her hand to silence him.
”I'm going to put these away, go up, take a bath... and when I'm done, you two better be done too.” she said as she stood up, not even looking at them as she headed behind the counter.
”How long does she take a bath?” The woman whispered, attempting to lean closer to Fenris without losing the cover from the drapes. Eisa growled slightly, she was way to tired for that kind of shit right now.
”Half an hour,” she said, walking towards the stairs leading to the second floor, turning around halfway to glare at Fenris as she pointed a finger at him.”And no screaming!”
Coming back from her bath, Eisa found her brother sitting on the floor next to the bed, his eyes on the carpet, seemingly not wanting to meet her gaze.
”So, uh...” He started, fiddling with a loose thread in the carpet. ”I hope you're not mad at me right now.”
”You know I can't be mad at you.” Eisa sighed. ”Annoyed though, and that's a whole different story.”
”I wasn't intending for it to happen!” Fenris exclaimed, looking up at her. ”She came in for a reading, I gave her one, or... uhm, I began to give her one and then her hands wandered, she moved closer and-”
”Stop.” Eisa groaned while pinching the bridge of her nose. ”I don't care what when, or even WHO you do - but in the backroom?!”
”I'm sorry!” He said, sitting up straighter. ”I really didn't mean it, promise!” Eisa glared at him for a little longer, eventually sighing deep while moving over to sit down next to him.
”....did you do it on the table?” She asked softly, getting a small amused smile in return and a nod.
”Yeah.”
”You're building a new one tomorrow,” she said, while nodding to herself, ” 'cause I'm never using that table again.”
”Deal.” He smiled, moving to ruffle her hair before leaning back and absentmindedly adding ”To be fair... it has been a bit rickety the last few times.”
”Wait, WHAT?!”
As days passed, Eisa forgot about the ordeal, pretty happy with the new table while everything went back to normal. After a few weeks, however, Fenris came home from a bar with a whole other person, trying to hush them as they moved up the stairs to the living space. Looking around he made sure Eisa wasn't home before dragging the person up the last few steps.
”Where is your sister?” They asked, a chuckle in their throat as Fenris pushed them down on the bed.
”Out with the bastard.” Fenris said, grinning down at them while his hands tore open buttons, revealing naked skin. ”Don't worry, she won't find out.”
Eisa giggled as she and Asra walked back to the shop, gently leaning against him as they talked.
”This was a fun day,” she smiled up at him.
”Yes, it was” Asra nodded, giving her a smile in return. ”I'm happy I managed to get you out from that shop for once.”
They laughed, arriving at the shop not long after and and parting ways. Asra had only been in Vesuvia since the day before, already heading off again... leaving her alone with an aching heart. Eisa looked after him until he disappeared around the corner of a street, then with heavy footsteps heading inside. She was in the middle of a deep breath, attempting to calm down her heart when she heard it – talking, and soft chuckles. At first frozen in place, Eisa soon glanced towards the stairs, finding a light still burning on the second floor. She took a step up the stairs, then cursed to herself as a loud groan from the wooden step, betraying her until now hidden presence. The sounds from upstairs went quiet, and Eisa walked the rest of the way, not knowing what to expect.
”Bro-” She started, looking around and finding him on the bed as colour drained from her face.
”Sis! You're back.... early!” Fenris smiled at her with a small wave, the person beside him shamefully hiding under the covers. Eisa took a deep breath, her eyes squinted with anger burning in them.
”Fenris...” She said through gritted teeth, trying to sound calm. ”Please tell me you two didn't...”
”We did,” Fenris interrupted, without any shame as he knew there was no point trying to sugarcoat the situation to her.
”In the bed,” she said in low tone. ”OUR bed. The bed we both use to sleep in.”
Fenris simply nodded, the person under the covers curling up even more as they tried to hide.
”Yeah, sorry about that.” Fenris scratched the back of his head. ”I was going to change the sheets before you got home, but I thought Asra would keep you occupied for a few more hours.”
”Have you done this before?” She asked, her arms crossed and Fenris could swear he saw small hints of flames as she huffed. He smiled apologetically.
”...will you calm down if I say no?”
That night Eisa slept in the corner Fenris normally lounged in, forcing him to replace both the mattress and the sheets straight away the following morning. It took longer for her to forgive him this time, but as time passed her anger melted away, and he made it up to her by showing her a place she could go and dance. Eisa started going once a week, being gone for hours at a time, finally able to forget some of her troubles while dancing the night away with likeminded people. It wasn't only out of the goodness of his heart though, as this left Fenris by himself in the shop for a few hours each week – something he made sure to take advantage of every time. Eisa normally came back sometime after sunrise, collapsing in the bed to sleep a few hours before work started for the day – none the wiser of what had been going on in their home while she was gone.
It went on like that for over two months, until one night she returned home a lot earlier, her leg now aching after a slight tumble she had taken in the shop earlier and not thinking it was bad enough to stay home.
”Fenris, I'm home!” She called out while locking the front door, smelling the sweet scent from the hookah wafting down from upstairs. She sighed in content as she walked up, but reaching the top she stopped completely, letting out a loud gasp as her eyes fell on a man laying amongst the pile of pillows in Fenris lounging area, where the hookah also stood. The man was naked, relaxed and smiling.
And... it wasn't Fenris.
”Well, hello there,” he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke and letting it drift towards the ceiling. ”The shop is closed, and the twins aren't available.”
Eisa only stared at him, not able to blink or turn away even though she wanted to, she really, REALLY wanted to as she realised the man was sitting with his legs spread.
”Where is Fenris?” She asked, attempting to not sound angry.
”Oh! He's in the bath,” the man replied, nodding towards the bathroom. ”He just went in, so it might take a while, I guess.” He shrugged before smiling at her and adjusting himself to a more comfortable positition, causing Eisa to turn even more red as this allowed her to get an an even better full frontal view. ”So... who are you? Someone else who wants to get a taste of him?”
”FENRIS!! YOU NOT SO LITTLE SHIT, I WILL KILL YOU.”
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Memory Lane
3773 words.
AN : Was inspired to write this after today’s games. So I thought I’d send it over before I forgot.
Summary : Memory lane is but one road in a much bigger world, and when Jensen is feeling discouraged after losing a series, Sneaky must remind him just how important he is in making that world turn for him.
X
Well.
The weekend had been rough, to say the very least.
They were previously undefeated, but now, they had acquired 2 losses. Pretty hard ones as well.
And Sneaky was trying his best to look on the bright side of things. Find the silver lining. Losing was a necessary evil sometimes. It was important that teams continued to play like they were fighting for something, even if they were in first place. Perhaps they’d lost a little bit of that feeling. And it was time to take what they’d been handed.
The rest of the team was feeling pretty low about it too, but, they’d recover.
The one that was of his concern was the one smushed in between himself and Contractz, in the back seat of their car. He could feel it radiating off of him. The stress, the frustration, the discouragement.
He’d come to know Jensen like the back of his hand at this point. The loss to TSM, well, Jensen still seemed okay. And rightfully so, because the boy literally had been the one trying to carry the rest of them on his shoulders. He’d played his heart out. Even though yes, he had still felt that disappointment, he’d taken it much easier.
But today’s loss. Well.
That was just on a whole different level entirely.
And it’d been in his eyes, on his face, the minute the Nexus had exploded for the 2nd time. Jensen was looking like he used to. Looking so completely defeated and sad, and Sneaky almost couldn’t stand it.
Jensen hadn’t so much as uttered a single word to him, hadn’t even looked in his direction since the series had ended.
It was something that could make Sneaky come undone.
So, that’s why, the moment they arrived back home, Sneaky was immediately all over the mid laner. He knew exactly what was going to happen. Jensen was aiming to head straight for his room, lock himself inside, and not come out for who knew how long.
Sneaky wasn’t okay with that. He wasn’t okay with letting Jensen take all the blame for their loss, and even more so, he wasn’t okay with being shut out, and shut away from his favorite person for however long.
The rest of the team retreated to their separate rooms as usual, but, thank goodness, Jensen’s room was right next to Sneaky’s. And he was not going to get away from him.
“Fuck off.” Jensen immediately snapped, feeling Sneaky’s presence behind him.
The ADC was on his heels, that much was true.
“Jensen, don’t do this.” Sneaky spoke, following along behind him closely. If it were anymore close actually, he’d probably trample him. “Jensen…” he now said in a warning tone as the mid laner rounded the corner to his room.
As predicted, the mid laner turned swiftly, and flung his door to close, but Sneaky was there to catch it, and wedged a foot in just because Jensen had actually won this back and forth before. The boy had some strength when he was feeling this overwhelmed and adrenaline filled. Surprising, for someone with barely more meat on his bones than actual Fiddlesticks.
“Sneaky, go the fuck away.” Jensen spat with annoyance, as he then placed both hands on the back of his door and attempted to force it shut.
“Nope.” Sneaky replied simply, now putting his shoulder into it as well. “I’m not letting this happen this time you little shit.” he grunted, edging himself in to the point he was halfway through the crack of the doorway.
Jensen exhaled heatedly, as he flung his hands in the air and turned away from Sneaky once again.
Sneaky, having managed to win the first battle, the “door battle” as he’d come to call it, stood up straight now, as there was no longer resistance from Jensen’s end.
Now would have to come the “battle of attention”. Jensen hated, absolutely hated talking, dealing with it. He was the type to just internalize it, and deal with it his own way.
And Sneaky wasn’t about emotions period.
But he was about Jensen’s emotions. Those actually mattered to him.
And he vowed the last time this happened, he was going to do everything he could to stop it the next time.
It wasn’t fair, or right, for Jensen to sit in his room and punish himself like this.
Sneaky blinked towards the Dane as he threw himself into a sitting position on the edge of his bed. He immediately pulled out his phone and earbuds.
As he prepared to put them in, however, Sneaky once more, was far too fast.
He reached out and snatched them too fast for Jensen to really even realize what was happening. Jensen glared towards him, now with “ultra tilt” eyes.
“Honestly, fuck you Sneaky.” Jensen remarked. His tone still held a lot of venom.
But it didn’t phase Sneaky, because he knew Jensen better than maybe he knew himself. And his words right now were coming from a place of very frustrated emotion and aggression. This is the part, that Sneaky didn’t get to witness very often. Usually, Jensen would have already shut him out.
Jensen flung himself upward again, “Why are you even in here?” he asked, in a tone that was neither nice, nor polite, “Get the fuck out and leave me alone okay?”
Sneaky slipped Jensen’s earbuds into his back pocket when the mid laner reached for them once more. “No, I won’t leave you alone.” he now switched his tone to the defensive so that he could at least rival the aggression enough to stand a chance here.
And inside, he was so mentally sad, so crushed, to be standing here, having to battle this out with the mid laner. He hated seeing Jensen this way so much.
Sneaky held up a hand to continue before Jensen could further his argument, “How fucking low of you to do this to us.” he added, brushing his hair to the side before folding his arms. His eyes narrowed slightly, “To do this to me.” he then pulled one arm towards his chest, before refolding it in his other, “What the fuck dude?”
“To you??” Jensen then questioned, his eyebrows raising into arcs as his eyes widened to stare towards Sneaky incredulously, before letting out a couple sarcastic huffs, “Sneaky aren’t you forgetting you have fucking Meteos’ side to cuddle up to?” Jensen spat, and immediately Sneaky’s face dropped all of the strength it’d had in it, as Jensen flung an arm out to the side, “In fact, if it will get you the fuck out of my room, I approve. Go.”
The mid laner exhaled, as if he was exaughsted now after that last sentence, and he collapsed once more into a sitting position on the side of his bed.
The sting.
It had been delivered.
And it was hurting.
It took Sneaky several moments actually, to recollect his thoughts as Jensen sat there on his phone. A body full of emotion mashing away on his keypad, swiping aggressively between sites and twitter feeds.
By the time Sneaky was managing to come around to say something once more, Jensen was back on the aggressive. “Well? Why are you still here?”
Sneaky tilted his head slightly, “Jensen, what the fuck?” he started, managing to force it out even though he still felt so winded over what Jensen had previously said to him.
This was like, a whole new experience for Sneaky. He and Jensen never fought like this, never argued like this. What was actually happening? How did he handle it? How was he supposed to respond?
Well, he didn’t know, but he had to try.
“Jensen.” he started, with a sigh following, “I just got done having to force my way through an interview with Meteos, that I didn’t even really want to be a part of.” he snapped, “Why the fuck would you say something like that to me?”
Sneaky then let his arms drop to his side again, watching, as Jensen just sat and stewed in silence as his attention had been averted back to his phone. Sneaky rolled his eyes and threw his arms up, “Alright, what? What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t want you to say anything. I want you to leave me alone.” Jensen scoffed, but his tone had lost a lot of it’s threat that’d it’d previously had. “I am tired Sneaky, and this has been an awful day for me personally.” he continued, finally now looking up at him, “And I don’t want to see you right now, I just need to think about what happened today. I need some time to myself to figure things out.”
“I mean, but it was the whole team’s loss, not just you Jensen.” Sneaky argued, also lowering his tone to something with less defensive aggression now to match his. “We’re all feeling bad about it, you just take it to so much more an intense level. I don’t want you to feel that way by yourself. It’s stupid.”
Jensen huffed a slight bit of laughter once more. “Yeah well, unfortunately I have more to worry about than just the team’s loss Sneaky, okay?” he now finally fell back onto his bed, and gazed at the ceiling before sighing once more. “So if you want to comfort someone, go bother one of the others.”
Sneaky, for a split second, was completely confused by this. But then it hit him like a ton of bricks.
Just like it had hit Sneaky himself like a ton of bricks earlier.
Meteos.
The nostalgia. The trip down memory lane. The fan service.
The revert back to years before Jensen had come along.
Sneaky’s eyes fell on the mid laner for a moment. How could he have not thought of that?
Jensen wasn’t exactly upfront about things like that. It was no mystery anymore to anyone that Meteos and Jensen didn’t like one another. It was partially the reason Meteos had stepped down from the team the first time. It was a bigger part of the reason the 2nd time.
Now Meteos had joined another team. For the first time ever, he was competing with someone other than Cloud 9. And today had been their face off.
And oh, how the fans had screamed, and carried on, and soaked in it. Their minds forgetting all about how far Sneaky had come, how much he had grown as a person without Meteos, because all of their fantasies of what had never become of “Sneakeos” in the past, had a heart beat for a day again.
Even the LCS casters had fallen victim to this face off between the old duo. Feeding into the fan’s desires, and Meteos had never shied away from doing it either. Not in the past, and he hadn’t tonight. Reverting back to the “old” was just too easy for him, and it was so easy for long time fans to get caught up in it.
Sneaky had given Meteos his picture to tweet to the world.
But after the game, he’d been corraled into an interview as well, and, well, the fan service continued.
And Sneaky had noticed immediately during the interview that no one had really cared about how he had felt about the whole issue. It had been miserable. He’d felt so awkward, he hadn’t even wanted to make eye contact with anyone during it. Screams would fill the air when Phreak and Meteos made their comments, and all he was left doing was standing there, laughing uncomfortably, looking like a dumbass.
Just like the old days.
But, also, just like the old days, he just let it happen. Even if he was uncomfortable. Even if he really didn’t want to do it. Even if he didn’t agree with what was being said.
He had introverted inward, like the old Sneaky always used to. Shy, embarrassed, and just going with the flow.
He was always going to be Meteos’ friend.
Forever. It was just the way things were.
But he was a different person now. He was a different Sneaky.
And instead of showing that tonight, he’d allowed himself to be pulled right back to what he used to be.
Perhaps it was because he was put on the spot. Perhaps it was because Meteos and Phreak were standing right there. Perhaps it was the screams of the fans. Fans that he loved truly, and dearly, that he crumbled under it all.
But it was no excuse.
Especially when he knew he was capable of showing off that newer Sneaky to the world, like he had been doing.
Now, still feeling the pain of Jensen’s words, but now also knowing the misery the mid laner must have been feeling, he sighed once more, “Jensen I’m sorry.”
Jensen said nothing. He only simply turned on his side, to face the wall away from Sneaky.
“I really am.” Sneaky continued, now walking over and sitting down on the edge of Jensen’s bed. He contemplated putting a hand on his shoulder, but decided against it. He was going to have to take this slowly. “Please believe me.”
Jensen lay still, unmoving, and quiet.
It made Sneaky so antsy.
Antsy enough that he did reach up this time and put his hand on him.
“Jensen you have to believe me.” Sneaky prodded, lightly touching his shoulder, hoping for any reaction at all out of him, “You know how I feel about you.”
Finally, a deep exhale came out of the Dane. “I know.”
He reached up and pushed Sneaky’s hand off his shoulder without looking, keeping his face turned away, “But that doesn’t mean it didn’t bother me.” he told, before adding, “I wish it didn’t, but I don’t really know how to make it stop.”
Sneaky gazed down at the top of his comforter for a second. “It bothers me too.” he frowned slightly, huffing a bit as he did so, “It bothers me that I still fall back into that old mood. That I’m still not strong enough to just defy it. That I still just let myself get sucked in.”
The ADC began tracing lines down the top of the blanket. “I worry about the fans, you know. And how it would affect them if I killed that for them…” he inhaled, before he halted his line drawing and turned towards Jensen’s curled up form once more, “But it matters to me more that it upset you, and I just want you to know that I will get there.”
Sneaky then leaned down on Jensen gently, draping his arm around him as he rested his chin on his shoulder, “You’re what I want Jensen. You’re the one I want.” he murmured, “One night of memory lane with Meteos didn’t change that. And it never would, or will. Everything that we’ve done together, and what we have between us means so much more to me.”
Jensen this time, didn’t shake Sneaky off of him. Instead, he allowed the AD carry to stay there, draped over him. It felt calming.
“He knows that too. He didn’t forget.” Sneaky added, just for the additional reassurance, before smiling slightly, “And one day I look forward to standing on stage with you and answering questions about us.”
Jensen huffed slightly, “If that day ever comes.”
“It will.” Sneaky replied, now picking his head up slightly and peeking over the top of Jensen to see if there was any relief in his eyes yet. He’d thought he’d picked up on it in his voice, so he wanted to check visually.
There was. In fact, there wasn’t only relief in the mid laner’s eyes, but he was now smiling a tiny bit as well. He laughed very faintly, as he now turned his head to glance at Sneaky, “Do you think you’ll actually be able to talk though?” he now had a teasing tone, “Because I’ve seen you try to talk about me in all seriousness before, and it did not work out so well.”
“Wha-” Sneaky began defensively, before cutting himself off. “What are you talking about?”
Jensen now moved, pushing himself into a sitting position and gazing at Sneaky with a bright smile, “You think I didn’t get a text from Bjergsen after that stream you did with him?”
Upon Sneaky’s look of confusion, Jensen pulled his phone out, “I still have the text saved.” he told as he began scrolling through his messages. After finding what he was looking for, he faced it towards his still confused looking damage carry.
Sneaky snatched the phone away and glared towards it. It was opened on a text from Bjergsen. He’d received it the day he’d done the stream Q&A with him.
Uh, so…I don’t what you’ve done to make Sneaky this crazy about you, but, holy fuck dude.
Attached to the message was a video of Sneaky breaking into a giggling fit after referring to Jensen as a “handsome man”.
“That actual asshole…” Sneaky murmured to himself, turning to gaze sideways as he wore a glare on his face. Just he wait. There would be revenge to be had. He turned to Jensen once more, “Alright, I can explain. See, what happened was - “
“Or what about that time someone in your chat asked if we were in a relationship?” Jensen continued laughing, cutting Sneaky off, “And also when you found out about what I said about my feelings?”
Sneaky sighed, glaring towards Jensen slightly, “Are you done?”
“I mean, I could also bring up that time that - “
“Anyways.” Sneaky took his turn to stop Jensen while he could. Else he may never get the chance. He made a mental note of all the revenge that needed to be taken on various people, including his entire twitch chat, before turning to Jensen again. “The point I was trying to make is, if you take anything away from tonight, Jensen. Anything at all…” he paused again, making sure he still had Jensen’s full attention, “It’s that I never want to go back to that place again. I’m right where I want to be now. With no one else but you.” he then smirked playfully, “You’re stuck with me you little shit.”
Jensen gazed towards his bed spread for a second, rocking slightly back and forth as he smiled a bit, “Alright, you’ve convinced me…” he then trailed off slightly before frowning, “But you can leave now because I still have the game to be upset over.” he then rubbed his hands on his knees as he shook his head slightly, “If I’d have just waited to flank when - “
“What the fuck did I just say to you good sir?” Sneaky snapped loudly, and playfully, cutting Jensen off once more.
Jensen’s jaw dropped slightly, before narrowing his eyes towards his annoyingly persistent AD Carry, “I’m dropping the Meteos thing okay? But you gotta go before I get more tilted, because tonight’s games - “
“Shut the fuck up Yensen.” Sneaky interrupted, holding up a hand, “I don’t want to hear any of your bullshit. Stop trying to get me to leave.”
Jensen fell quiet once more, huffing and puffing, before folding his arms across his chest.
This caused Sneaky to laugh slightly, as he raised an eyebrow, “You know though…” he began, capturing his mid laner’s attention, “My Ryze is cleaner.”
“Fuck you Sneaky.” Jensen spat, “If your Ryze is so clean I expect him to be locked in at AD Carry next game, and we’ll see how many times your ass gets killed to fucking 4 man roams from the rest of the map.”
Jensen’s rambling only caused Sneaky to laugh more. It was never not entertaining when Jensen went off on a rant, or threw a fit about something. He held his hands up, “Fuck me I guess for being honest with you about my Ryze.”
“You know what? No. Go get on your fucking computer. It’s time for a 1v1.” Jensen demanded, as he began to shift off the side of the bed.
Sneaky blinked, his laughter dying down slightly, though it still came out in wisps as he spoke, “Wait, you want to 1v1 me right now?”
“I mean I said it, so.” Jensen replied, trodding over to his chair and sitting down in it.
“Alright fine…” Sneaky complied, as he also stood from the bed, “But I don’t want to hear any bullshit about me kicking you while you’re down when I destroy your dumbass.”
Jensen’s client popped up on his screen, and as he began to type in his user name and password, he huffed out a laugh, “Yeah I’m sure. Keep shit talking me all you want Sneaky, but just prepare to be bodied.”
Sneaky smirked, leaving Jensen’s room and heading around the corner into his own. After sitting down at his computer and listening to it whir to life from sleep mode, he couldn’t help but smile to himself.
He thought he’d done an ok job. Jensen was definitely not looking as doom and gloom as he had been, though he was sure the mid laner was still going to think about it some.
The point was, he wasn’t thinking about it right now. His mind was sure to be on exposing Sneaky’s Ryze play, 100%. That counted for something.
At the very least, it was going to be hilarious.
As his client popped open, he immediately had an invite waiting, and when the two of them loaded onto the rift, Sneaky reached out and knocked on the wall a couple times.
What the fuck? Why?
For luck.
Oh. Yeah you’re gonna need it. Are you ready to be bodied Sneaky?
I’m always ready to be bodied by you, you aesthetic fuck.
I know. I would want to be bodied by me too.
Sneaky let out some laughter.
This.
This is what his happiness was.
Trips down memory lane, sure, could be fun.
But at the end of the day, the nostalgia would fade.
And what mattered then, was who was at your side at that moment.
The one who’d changed your world, turned it completely upside down, and made you the stronger you.
The one who showed you just how vulnerable he could be, how scared he could be, all because every piece of his heart was invested in you, in the same way you had invested yours.
There was never going to be any need for the mid laner to worry.
Because memory lane was just one road out of Sneaky’s entire world.
A world that spun, all because Jensen was in his life.
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Hey - Pat from StarterStory.com here with another interview.Today's interview is with Dane Jensen (u/dreamscientist) of Sock Club, a brand that makes custom socksSome stats:Product: custom socksRevenue/mo: $1,000,000Started: May 2011Location: AustinFounders: 2Employees: 31Hello! Who are you and what business did you start?Hi, Dane Jensen here, my business partner Noah and I run Sock Club. Our flagship product is socks of course. We started Sock Club as a monthly subscription where we would deliver a pair of unique socks to our customers every month. As we’ve grown we’ve developed a manufacturing supply chain here in the United States. Having the ability to make our own socks made it possible to enter the new market of custom socks. Now making custom socks is 90% of our business and the subscription 10%. Last year we did $12M+ in revenue and we plan to do more than that this year.imageWhat's your backstory and how did you come up with the idea?I was living in Austin, TX running and biking around being a twenty-something-year-old working as a web developer. At the time when I started Sock Club, I had a few failed startups under my belt. I built Camm Security Inc., a cloud camera company, and GitHire, a software developer recruiting service, with co-founder Rhett Creighton. So, I had acquired some software development skills and some sense of what’s important in starting a company.I built the website for Sock Club over a weekend in kind of a flash of inspiration.Birchbox had been a big subscription success and I thought that socks were an item I wouldn’t mind receiving monthly and having more of. After I built the website,I kind of forgot about it for six months.When I checked back in, people had found the site and tried to sign up. The page after you signed up just said something like “we aren’t shipping socks yet but we’ll let you know when we start”. From my previous experience of starting companies and trying to get customers, I knew this was rare.So, when my friend Noah mentioned he would be interested in starting a company with me, I told him I had this idea that we could run as a side project. He was working at a finance company in Austin and I was still working as a web developer, so we didn’t quit our day jobs, but we would work on Sock Club on nights and weekends. Sock Club grew gradually and now we’re 30+ professionals in Austin designing and selling and manufacturing socks.Take us through the process of designing, prototyping, and manufacturing your first product.My business partner Noah Lee could definitely talk about this in more detail than I can. When we first started we would buy wholesale from other sock brands but we quickly got to the scale where we needed to manufacture our own socks. North Carolina, where Noah is from, has a rich textile history, and having this connection was a huge advantage. Noah pounded the North Carolina hills and built our supply chain.Manufacturing quality socks is a long process. Here's a simplified view of what happens. Cotton grown in the southeastern United States is shipped to our spinning facilities which spin raw cotton into yarn. Our yarn is sent to our dyehouse which dyes our 40+ unique colors. Our dyed yarn is sent to our knitters which uses modern Italian knitting machines to knit the yarn into a sock. The knit sock is sent to our fulfillment center to be boarded (washed in very hot water, etc.) and packaged and then shipped to the customer.Describe the process of launching the business.Launching Sock Club has been a super gradual process. I feel like we are still launching Sock Club. Jeff Bezos has a great saying: “it’s always day one.” You have to be as hungry and competitive for an opportunity as you were on day one. I try to think about that every time a new opportunity comes across my desk. If this was day one, would I jump at this opportunity?Noah and I have also become experts at convex optimization (a stolen term from Nassim Taleb), which basically means making improvements that can only help your business and definitely don't have any negative impact. When we launched Custom Socks by Sock Club (the custom arm of our business which is 90% of revenue now), we didn’t give up on the Sock Club subscription. We made an effort to make sure it took a little of our time as possible so we could focus on custom.Sock Club was completely bootstrapped and has always been profitable (excluding the cost of our time). We did everything we could ourselves. We packed socks for shipments. I designed, wrote the copy and built our website:imageWe did our own product photoshoots and product photography. Noah handled our finances and taxes and built our supply chain. Often we did stuff ourselves that we weren’t good at. It could have been easy to find someone better to do it for a reasonable price, but we learned so much by doing everything ourselves it was definitely worth it.Since launch, what has worked to attract and retain customers?We don’t do the best job with the analytics of our traffic so I can’t give you hard facts about where our traffic comes from but I think the marketing channels that have been best for us our SEO, Google ads, Facebook ads, email newsletters, radio ads and trade shows (not necessarily in that order). Most of the acquisition comes from the free channels of SEO, past customer reordering and word of mouth. When starting out to gain distribution (aka customers/market share) you really need to pound the pavement and do things that don’t scale. On the internet site, to get customers and SEO distribution I used my favorite free tactic a lot which is posting good content to content aggregators like Hacker News, Product Hunt, and Reddit. It takes some work to make something that those communities will like but if you do you get a big return on the content. To learn more about this I think priceonomics.com made the best resource on content marketing -> The Content Marketing Handbook. We also pounded the pavement in the person going to tradeshows and getting on reps in on perfecting our sales pitch. It worked perfectly for us because our product is made for tradeshows.Also, I think understanding when you need to sell harder than normal is important. Our business is super seasonal because, for the most part, we sell gifts so we run email campaigns, radio ads and lots of promotions around the holidays like Father’s Day, Valentine’s Day and Christmas.My advice for marketing would be to do all the free stuff you can, and Google and Facebook are the main avenues to buy customers.How are you doing today and what does the future look like?Sock Club has been profitable from day one. Most of our distribution is from Google and tradeshows. For our custom socks sales, we use the Hubspot CRM with a lot of custom modifications to fit our industry.Our operations department is constantly changing the software to keep up with our growth. Operations at Sock Club has the super difficult job of managing our supply chain and making it easy for our sales and design team to enter orders and know the status of their order. When we started custom, we were only doing a few orders a week and could keep track of everything through Trello. From Trello, we grew to try Airtable and then built a custom app in Zoho. The next step for operations is custom software built off the popular open-source application Odoo.Right now, Sock Club is focused on being number one in custom socks. When people see a custom sock or want to order one, we want them to think of Sock Club first. After we win custom socks, we want to see if we can bring the processes we use to design and manufacture socks to another product.Through starting the business, have you learned anything particularly helpful or advantageous?I’ve learned so much by starting a business. I believe business is the best way to put theory into practice. Business, unlike anything else, will weed out the ideas that don’t fit reality. I think Warren Buffett or maybe it was Patrick Collision talked about business being applied epistemology and that’s how I think about it now.Here’s a subset of the things I’ve learned from Sock Club that might be useful to your readers:If you have an idea the market wants, you will have lots of competition. Competition is a constant, even for a niche idea like a sock subscription. I could probably list 20 sock subscription companies off the top of my head. I know this idea is widespread, but it’s one thing to hear, and another to feel it when your competition starts eating up some of your market shares.This is like a corollary of the above point but if you don’t strike on an opportunity someone else will. I’ve seen lots of my ideas and opportunity better executed by other businesses. Business is mostly execution, not mostly ideas.I used to think business was all products. Seeing the success of internet companies like Google and Instagram building product with only a few engineers that can reach billions of people, I thought that product was everything in business. But in running a business that makes a physical product, you learn the other side and why MBAs exist. Business is also very much about managing people. Managing people is hard. I believe everyone has self-interest, so you have to figure out how to align personal goals with the goals of the business.https://www.instagram.com/p/B1MSxoLAZVP/What platform/tools do you use for your business?Ruby on railsExcelMac OSXOh my ZSHGithubHubspotShopifyWorkflowyPushbulletSlackCalendlyIndeedZohoOdooZapierWhat have been the most influential books, podcasts, or other resources?Shoe Dog - if you want to go far, focus on building a team.Everything Ycombinator puts out - That community just has a very rational approach to business and cuts through the BS and figures out how to build something people want.Derek Sivers blog - Importance of customer service and execution.Creativity Inc - We went through a tough period last Fall/Winter of exponential growth that we weren’t necessarily prepared for. I got this book for all of the Sock Club employees as a Christmas gift. It includes great advice about scaling a business and investing in your employees.Advice for other entrepreneurs who want to get started or are just starting out?I think the internet is such an echo chamber the pressure to cargo cult and do the things that you think successful startups do instead of doing the things your customers want is a mistake everyone makes from time to time. You have to think from first principles and listen to your customers, which is easier said than done.Speed is so important. And the trick to being fast is focusing so hard on a few things that you don’t do much at all. Everyone talks about focus, but no one talks about the other side that being fast means not doing too much. I learned this trick that being fast is about not doing much from Hacker News.I remember someone posted a blog to Hacker News about how they spent a year trying to make a faster grep (one of the most important Unix commands) and he/she just couldn’t do it. In the comments the creator of grep commented that the trick to making a fast program was to make the pro not do much at all. That kind of stuck with me. I think the same idea can be applied to business. It’s related to the idea that Steve Jobs talks about where good design is about saying no to a million good ideas to get to a great idea.Are you looking to hire for certain positions right now?We’re always looking for great people. We’re in Austin so if you’re around come see us. Right now we’re looking for Web/Software Developers, Designers, and Account Managers.Where can we go to learn more?Custom Socks by Sock ClubSock ClubFacebookTwitterInstagramIf you have any questions or comments, drop a comment below!Liked this text interview? Check out the full interview with photos, tools, books, and other data.For more interviews, check out r/starter_story - I post new stories there daily.Interested in sharing your own story? Send me a PM
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"Why I think it’s time for a new kind of advertising” (1970)
The Saatchi ‘launch ad’ - By Jeremy Sinclair
The first Lord Leverhulme, Britain's original marga-rine and soap king, won undying literary fame by observing that half of the money which he spent on advertising was wasted, but that he didn't know which half. For all he knew, Lord Leverhulme may have wasted still more of his advertising money, and many of today's advertisers doubt-less waste more than Lord Leverhulme.
Wasted ads are the ones which nobody sees, reads or notes. Ads are unseen unless the agencies which create and place them, and the clients who approve and pay for them, remember the prime purpose of advertising. Lord Lever-hulme never forgot that prime objective. In his day, the age of the entrepreneur, the great ads and the great advertisers were the great sellers. They still are.
Expenditure of shareholders' money is only justified if it ultimately produces a quantifiable and adequate return in the same terms - money. In advertising language, this means that a campaign only succeeds if it ultimately helps to create new sales for the client, and does so effectively and economically. This self-evident truth rests on another: advertising cannot create sales unless (first and above all) it catches the consumer's attention; then, interests the con-sumer; then, changes the consumer's attitudes; and finally sells to the consumer. These are the four Stages of Man in advertising; Attention, Interest, Desire and Action.
The sheer power of advertising is so great, anyway, that it can triumph over a lack of penetration which would kill off many other industries. Research by Gallup shows that only 26 per cent of readers of a national newspaper read the average full page ad: in other words, if the ad pulls, it does so despite the 74 per cent of the readership which completely ignores the advertiser's expensive message, and never passes advertising's Stage One. Gallup's files also contain examples of full-page four colour ads in a national daily which were noted by only 5 per cent of the readers, and actually read by none of them. Plainly, an ad which everybody reads is far superior to one which somebody reads: but an ad which nobody reads does nothing except cost money. Oddly enough, some companies expect little else from their advertising.
A familiar management failing ...
This emerged from a recent survey in Management Today by Simon Majaro, director of Strategic Management Learning, and a partner with management consultants, Urwick Orr. He found that many manufacturing firms glibly claimed advertising objectives (making no attempt to measure their achievement) like 'improving image of com-pany products', 'improving company's image' and 'crea-ting brand awareness' - these objectives were put above 'increasing sales', which was regarded somehow as inferior. This is an example of a familiar management failing - putting the means before the end.
Images and brand awareness are meaningless if they fail to achieve greater turnover: the test is the cash in the till, and passing the test is far harder than image-building or winning awards.
The great split between the so-called creative hot shops and the big marketing agencies is wholly fictitious. A creative ad is only an exercise in self-indulgence unless it achieves the client's marketing purposes, expressed in concrete terms of sales penetration; and a marketing agency cannot achieve any result, except the expensive duplication of its clients' own marketing and merchandising skills, unless it makes ads that seize the public mind.
The proper role of the middle-man
The self-induced schizophrenia in the advertising world can create confusion in the agency itself. For example, what is the proper role of the account executive, the middle-man between the advertiser and the people who are paid to create the ads? It must not be to block the creators from direct access to the client, for the risk then is that ads will get created, not to sell more for the client, but to give the middle-man something which he can sell to the client.
The current experiments with internal agency organisa-tion point to this anxiety: the famous open plan offices at KMP, with creative people hopefully jostling against account executives to some better effect than bruised shoulders; or the division of Lonsdale Crowther into self-contained groups of creative and account-servicing staff; or the total abolition of the account executive by the new Saatchi and Saatchi agency, which adds to its gratifying start of almost pounds 1 million of initial billings, a self-declared role as 'just salesmen'.
The account executive's replacement is a co-ordinator who is not briefed by the client, does not brief the creative people, does not pass judgment on ads and does not present ads to the client, but works with the creators as a day-to-day administrator.
Obviously, the mode of organisation counts for nothing compared to the results and, in agency world, there is always a fashion of not being in fashion. No new agency, bursting with all the usual bravado would dream of appear-ing without new organisational clothes. The Saatchi and Saatchi salesmanship dress gets its individual cut (what you might call a Unique Selling Proposition) from the peculiar nature of its birthplace - a hard-selling creative consultancy called Cramer Saatchi.
Two years ago, creative consultancy itself was a virgin idea. Its subsequent flowering also points to problems inside the big agency. An agency presumably calls in consultants because of doubts whether its own creative staff can produce effective advertising unaided. Several causes arise naturally from time to time even in the best-regulated shops like simple shortage of able bodies; or else thinking on an account gets too inbred, until the agency realises it cannot judge campaigns objectively - it is trapped by its total im-mersion in the client's own business philosophy and prejudices.
Great advertising nearly always involves looking at a marketing problem in a totally new light - often from a viewpoint which is distasteful to the conventional client. Thus Bill Bernbach of Doyle Dane Bernbach came back to Avis with the unwholesome news that the only thing which the agency could find to say about Avis was that it was Number Two: the rest is advertising (and selling) history. The consultant trades on his blissful ignorance - on coming in fresh to every account, unexposed to the client's sales objectives, marketing problems, management preoccupation's and fixed ideas.
Diminishing the power of the retail chains
The major snag when consultants, like Saatchi and Saatchi, proliferate into agency form, is how to preserve this freshness. Their device is to split the agency into two groups on every campaign. The so-called working group, advised by an ex-supermarketeer whose role is to tilt at the growing power of the big retail chains, gets fully involved with the client; its Siamese twin, the control group, knows nothing about the marketing ideas behind the cam-paign, and asks only one awkward question. Will these ads sell to a consumer who knows equally little about the marketing logic behind them and cares even less?
The potential for what is euphemistically known as 'creative tension' between the groups is enormous, but again the results are the only criterion. For this particular agency, that criterion looms especially large, since it is not cheap - charges will average about 22 per cent of total billings - far above the norm: it results from dropping that dear, dying, illogical commission system in favour of cost-plus fees. Its clients pay the agency's costs, amortised over the period of expenditure and net of commission; the quid pro quo for the 22 per cent touch is a promise of the cheapest possible buying of space and time. The growth of the new media brokers has shown how far shrewd and determined media buying can stretch a budget (and stretch a middle-man's profit).
The mechanical task of placing ads most effectively, in terms of price and impact, has been most curiously neglected. For instance, back covers of magazines are seen by far more people than inside pages: yet all media owners know that most back covers are hard to sell. Advertising is beset by other hoary prejudices - for instance, that there's no point in advertising in August and January. Prevalence of myths, which could be smartly destroyed by investigation (or even by common sense), means a disregard for fact - and fact is the foundation of all successful advertising.
A salesman's job
You cannot, except for the briefest span of time, persuade customers to buy a bad product. If the product is genuinely good, the most effective method of selling and advertising that product is invariably to present the facts about its advantages. Advertising which does its salesman's job presents accurate, meaningful facts about the goods or services of the client: and these few factual ads must be bold or original enough to persuade readers or viewers to pay attention to the facts.
Similarly, effective advertisers must judge agencies by the facts of their own sales performance - and many don't: Saatchi and Saatchi make the unlikely boast that their salesmanship line will cut them off from half their potential clients. Certainly, it is folly to hide behind the smoke-screen of Lord Leverhulme's celebrated dictum (another non-factual myth) and the intangibles of the image. What should concern all advertisers are the tangibles of their advertising expenditure and of the revenue which that spending generates - or (as in the Case of the Wasted Ads) fails to generate.
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