but before you get that BS, first you have to click Close on this ^ BS popup
also I got this in my email:
this one is arguably more insidious, because it looks friendly and informative but is full of subtle lies:
the tax credit comes from Obama (remember "Obamacare"?), not trump or the republicans, and was a watered-down version that - after a long, bitter fight - got approved by all of Congress well before the covid pandemic
that tax credit won't end unless Republicans get their way in killing this wildly popular and vital program
the only reason I and other self-employed Americans will pay more for health insurance is if the Republicans get their way in taking from the poor and giving to the rich (and if Democrats in Congress fail to fight to keep it for us)
updating one's application now will be meaningless until the current budget fight is resolved
these two agencies aren't the only ones breaking the law - specifically, the bipartisan Hatch Act - to propagandize for the trump regime:
DOJ.gov looks like this ^ now
and if you visit the official government Small Business Administration website, you see this ^ atrocious popup
in a statement from the Department of Veterans Affairs VA press secretary Pete Kasperowicz also used sharply partisan language, saying:
"Radical liberals in Congress are trying to shut down the government to achieve their crazy fantasy of open borders, 'transgender' for everybody, and men competing in women's sports. If they succeed, they will stop critical Veterans care and assistance programs."
important note: health care for veterans will not be affected, and the VA's contingency plan points out that 97% of its employees will not be furloughed
again, this political propagandizing is illegal under the Hatch Act of 1939, "An Act to Prevent Pernicious Political Activities"
it's a federal law that prohibits civil-service employees in the executive branch of the federal government (as well as state, D.C., and local government employees who work in or with federally funded programs) from engaging in most forms of political activity
example: when I was employed at the University of Kansas (therefore a state employee), we had extremely strict rules prohibiting any political speech at all that used university or state resources - including our time on the clock. and, of course, websites hosted by or representing the university. that's because parts of the school get federal grants (I didn't), which is enough to kick in this rule
nowadays, they can't even use DEIA-related language (as the current regime considers championing human rights to be "political"), so strict is the interpretation of this law
the Hatch Act's purpose is to ensure that federal programs are administered in a nonpartisan fashion, to protect federal employees from political coercion in the workplace, and to ensure that federal employees are advanced based on merit and not based on political affiliation
in other words, it's supposed to protect against all the crap the trump regime is pulling in its hatred of "DEI" and all things antithetical to billionaire interests (and the whims of Demented Don)
and as for coercion, federal employees are being told by the trump regime's appointees - their bosses - to use the political language shown in these screenshots in their out-of-office messages
thankfully, the people are fighting back, suing over this illegal use of taxpayer money to fund republican propaganda
here's hoping this is the final straw for enough people to ride up and break this criminal enterprise's back
Rattrap x OC - inspired by @revelboo ‘s Soft Au series
Tried to post an earlier rendition of this a few days ago, but I got cold feet. This time, it’s a lot better i think. This is just an au crack of my own fanfiction lol. Had a lot of fun with it tho.
Damn copy/paste on my phone ate all the italics. Oh well.
——————————
Eliza stared at her assignments' page with all the tired enthusiasm of some paid-not-nearly-enough-for-this retail worker. She wore one set of rat themed jewelery and suddenly she's 'promoted' from a desk jockey to a caretaker of an alien with a rat alt-mode. Without even asking her, of course. Joy.
Apparently, the applications for the caretaker position was drying up because word was getting out that the caretaker program came with extra expectations. Like being propositioned for marriage and being forced into playing along to keep the death bots happy. The plamphlet of 'cybertronian courting definitions' and just vague-enough-to-be-unhelpful instructions to 'politely decline a Cybertronian's advances' she'd been handed only proved that rumor was founded, and she wasn't exactly enthralled by the idea.
She fingered the profile papers once again, chewing on the information in her assignment's dossier. Rattrap: Espionage and demolitions expert. She smirked a little, amused once again. It was a bit on the nose, but endearing in it's blunt accuracy. Reading further, her smile dissipated just a little. 'Resistant to authority and prone to causing intentional friction between the factions and his own team-mates. Imperative to keep distracted and happy to ensure long-term efficacy of the caretaker program.'
She rolled her eyes and poured over the little information provided. Despite his apparent self-inflicted animosity, Rattrap's dossier was surprisingly thin. His teammates provided very little information beyond general assessments of his prowess and skill in battle and Rattrap, likewise, was extremely close-lipped about his team-members. Apart from Dinobot, who he had provided a whole essay of insults that boiled down to absolutely nothing of real value. They were loyal to each other, despite his frictional personality… which boded well for her. To a degree.
Eliza had the feeling Rattrap would have already seen right through the ruse of the Careraker Program, considering he'd flat out refused and ran out the four caretakers assigned to him before her. He was smart, sniffed out plans and traps and wasn't stupid when it came to covert operations. He'd probably try the same crap to get rid of her, too.
She huffed hair out of her face. He'd be a decent option out of the bots without an assigned human. Better than a lot of the decepticons, that was for sure. Maybe she could cut a deal with him. He seemed savvy. The kind of guy who could be bought so long as she wasn't going to sell him or his own out. And she wasn't. Malicious compliance was the name of her game and she had every intention of bathing Rattrap and reporting absolutely nothing. Because she'd learn absolutely nothing.
She folded the dossier and tucked it into her coveralls, brushed down her suit and then headed out into the fray.
Bots and humans mingled in this section of the base. It felt more like a busy higschool hallway than a damned military base. The Cybertronian's massive sizes made her feel dizzy and paranoid, but Eliza couldn't really afford to stop dead in her tracks and freeze in fear. She needed to be seen or she'd get squished. To ease her nerves, she tucked headphones into her ears and turned up whatever popped up on her mp3 first.
Better to drown out the thumps and chatter and beeline for her stall. Rattrap was supposed to already be waiting for her, but he hadn't liked to be on time for his previous assignments. She very much doubted he'd bother for her.
———————————
Sure enough, Rattrap wasn't waiting for her at all. The stall was empty save for the bench crudely fashioned out of massive, thick industrial pipes and plating. Eliza huffed before she pushed the cart, stocked with car soap and energon.
She didn't bother to mix it. She didn't even bother to pull out the hose and fill up the tub. She just made enough room on the cart to sit comfortably, turned up her music once again, and pulled out a sketchbook to pass the time.
Rattrap wouldn't show. And if he did, it'd be hours from now. There was no use going out to find him because the fucker was a spy. A literal rat. If he didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be. So, Eliza didn't bother.
Meanwhile, Rattrap watched from his comfortable and private hiding spot, watching the live-feed of his new fake-conjux with an amused smirk. He chewed on his energon treats, pilfered behind the back of some random bot when they were gettin' frisky with their caretaker.
Idiots, the lot of them. Even if the human 'caretakers' were virtually innocent of their slaggin' government's demands, he didn't trust them. He almost felt sorry for the them. Almost. They were borderline sex workers for their government, after all. The only bad kind. Didn't they know they could do this independantly and not involve a third party like big brother and turn a much more lucrative profit? What a waste. Because regardless of their affections, they'll always choose their own in the end. It was just nature.
At least this human was smart so far. Tucked away behind her supplies so people would think she's out searching for him, curled up with a book and what he could only assume was a portable sound system, she was prepared. He liked that. It was a shame he didn't feel like making a squishy, paid-to-spy friend. He'll make sure she doesn't last a week.
He switched windows to his latest pirated game and settled in for a long sesh. He'd leave the human to rot in privacy for a little while. He had levels to grind.
———————————
Elizabeth sat and drew and listened to music and podcasts for her entire eight hour shift, taking breaks only to slink off to the bathrooms. Rattrap hadn't made himself known once. At one point, a nice bot with a young voice had poked his head in and called for Rattrap. Asked if he was there. She'd sat still and silent, hoping he wouldn't notice her hiding.
The bot had ducked out and muttered, "Guess he's still being like this…" to someone on the other side. "You think he even bothered to meet her this time?"
A deeper, gruffer voice hummed in disapproval, "Mm-mm-mm… I don't understand his insistence on making this as difficult as possible. Even if he disagrees with the process…"
Eliza huffed under her breath as they walked away, leaving her once again in comfortable isolation, and smiled to herself. At least she and Rattrap agreed on one thing. This arrangement sucked. But it would have sucked a whole lot less if he had at least met her. Then, she could have suggested a middle ground and her ass wouldn't be so sore from sitting on a metal cart for almost 5 hours straight.
She shook her head as her time finally ran out and she stood, gathered up her belongings, and headed to the door.
Only for a robotic hand to push the privacy tarp out of the way, revealing the weird, alien face of her assigned mech. His red optics locked onto her and he shot her a bucktoothed, smug grin that made her skin crawl. It was all for show. Had to be. "Hey, sweetspark. Sorry I'm late. Got real busy, had slag to do, you know?"
She huffed, glowering at him before she side-stepped him. "Too late. I'm heading home. Come back tomorrow."
He almost seemed surprised at her dismissal, before he snorted and trailed behind her. "Oh, yeah? Is that actually a part of yer contract? Aren't you salaried?"
She glared up at him, annoyed. He wasn't supposed to know about that, but it didn't exactly surprise her that he did. Again. Spy-rat. Fucker was like a MacGyver with tech. "No," she informed him curtly, which seemed to actually surprise him. "I might have beem roped into this gig against my will, but I didn't fall for the stupid sign on bonus. I asked for hourly. 40 hours a week. Factored in the sign-in bonus into my hourly and they agreed. Apparently they really need more caretakers."
He cocked his head at her, somewhere between impressed and annoyed. He couldn't fluster her. "You clock out yet?" He asked.
"No," she confirmed, but before he could pounce, she snapped, "But I'm on my way out and I'm not staying to wash you. It's late and I have pets to feed."
He narrowed his optics at her, studying her as she walked through the much quieter evening crowd. He glanced around, his red eyes scanning the potential audience with a cold calculation that would have made his human's skin turn to gooseflesh. Only a few caretakers and bots mingled now. Any conversation they had could be listened in on a lot easier. Any threat or feigned pass he made could be reported. Not that HR here cared a whole damn much about protecting their employees.
He watched her as she got closer and closer to the locker room, and closer to escaping out of his reach. The locker rooms headed into the main base. The main base had three security check points. Past that, she was home free.
He could leave whenever he wanted, realistically. It happened all the time. It was the whole reason they built the stupid dorm. Easier access for the bots too damn eager for a conjux that didn't really know what all that entailed. But he didn't feel like being that big of a scumbag to a gal who really hadn't done anything. She seemed just as unenthusiastic about this arrangement as he was… and a lot less inclined to blindly obey her superiors. Which was better than the last four had been. And would likely be a lot better than the next four…
So, he took a risk. He jumped in front of her, blocking the door to the locker room as he glared. "Hey, yer still being paid and I wanna talk." Her little head snapped up to him, anger flashing in her uncanny, wet eyes. The righteous, indignant fury made his tanks churn with… something and he cleared his intake with a weak cough. "Listen—"
"If you don't get out of my way, when you do decide to get washed, I swear to God I will mix pure acetone into the soap."
His optics shuttered at the threat. He hadn't heard a caretaker be blatantly antagonistic towards any of the other bots… well, not without a really good reason. But, out of all the bots she could have been saddled with, he just so happened to have gotten the one human who who had the ball bearings to threaten him with something she was actually capable of to his face. He smiled a little, the refreshing lack of pomp and sucking up endearing him to the firecracker.
"I'm serious, fleshie. Just a minute. In private." He mass shifted, for her comfort, and opened his servos in a placating manner… but he saw her eyes glaze over and she shifted like she was dizzy and weak. Vertigo, if his research was accurate. He gave her a moment to recover and didn't reach out to steady her. Out of coinsideration and the kindness of his spark, of course.
Eliza rubbed her eyes as her mind tried to process that this massive, bery solid, robot had just shrunk. She peeked at him and her eyes narrowed. He wasn't much different in size than her now. Maybe a handful of inches taller. She'd read about mass displacement, she'd even seen it happen from a long distance away, but she hadn't ever witnessed it up close before.
She cleared her throat as her stomach finally settled and she motioned for him to get on with it. If he was going to hold her hostage, she wanted to make it quick. And if it wasn't she fully intended to scream until Ultra Magnus or Prowl or some other rules-thumper showed up to annoy Rattrap into obedience for her.
He smirked again, as if he'd won an argument, and sauntered over to her. "Somethin' tells me you don't want this areangement as much as I don't," he began, sounding smarmy and cocksure. "So, howsabout you and I make a deal?"
Eliza slowly blinked at him, her expression a scathingly terse annoyance. She looked him up and down, the wrinkle in her nose only intensifying, before she suddenly snatched his arm, opened the locker door with her keycard, and dragged them both inside.
The locker room was, unfortunately, not empty, so she continued to Drag him along past a few other caretakers who giggled and whispered. Rattrap didn't help as he shot them a lecherous, eager smile as if he was excited for what was anout to happen. It took everything in her not to stop dead and clear the air. It was better to let them assume this so upper management didn't catch wind. Eventually, she found a good spot, yanked him into a storage closet and closed the door behind them both before she met his optics. And then locked the door.
He actually had the audacity to look confused for a moment, but after their eyes locked, he smirked, folded his arms and smugly leaned against the wall of the little room. "Well, if you wanted to get me alone—"
"My terms are: you let me wash you and I don't care about what you do," she interruptef flatly, glowering at him. He blinked at her, his smile not faltering, but his dumbfounded silence ratted him out. Pun intended. She continued while he was blessedly rendered mute. "I don't want a boyfriend or a conjux or whatever the hell you bots call it. I don't care about reporting information to my bosses. If you guys decide to kill us all, there's jack shit we can do about it, anyways. They already know you're onto them and they want you on a tight leash so you don't upset the fake, delicate balance we've somehow established."
She motioned to herself. "I like rats. And that's as far as their research went apparently, because I'm the worst option for a seduction gig. So, deal is we just do whatever we want outside of the amount of time it takes me to wash you. Agreed?"
He studied her for a moment. Up close, the uncanny human features made him feel… odd. Humans were compatible and that was undeniable. Just looking at them, you could tell. Somewhere along the way, Cybertronians and Humanity had shared some weird evolutionary commonality. Either by mathematics of life, intelligence, or some other rule of nature they hadn't yet discovered.
And this human, with wild, curly hair, feirce eyes that seemed to change color in different lighting, and a soft, pudgy frame that made him wonder if she made a better cushion than memory foam, made him question himself.
He buried the thought along with a few other stray images to dissect when he wasn't in far too-close of confines for his own comfort. "You open for negotiation?" He asked, raising his brow.
She grunted, pulling away from him as she leaned against a wall stocked with chemicals and cleaning agents. "Depends on the terms, but sure."
The lack of commitment was commendable and he smirked. "You pretend to be into me. Like, the whole conjux thing."
She balked immediately. "Absolutely—"
And he leaned in, cutting her off as he got too close and she pushed him away, paling. "Hey, relax sweetspark, it's all pretend! If I gotta deal with your weird little hands all over me, I want something out of it. And that means a real convincing performance that you like me to bother that misfiring slaghead Dinobot. His caretaker is creeped out and keeps acting like he's gonna bite off their heads and it really bothers him." He smirked meanly. "If I get a conjux that likes me before him, ohhhh that'll really make him blow a gasket!"
Eliza watched him get giddy, staring off into the distance and imagining the tantrum the Dinobot character would have. He was acting like a kid planning out some silly little prank that wouldn't really hurt anyone. And it probably wouldn't. Probably.
She huffed, unwilling to admit that it was a little endearing… and far more willing to point out the flaw in his plan. "One problem, buckteeth. I don't flirt."
His head snapped back to her, confused. "Huh?"
She cocked her head. "I don't. Flirt. I'm ace-ish. My idea of a fun time with someone I like is arguing, throwing insults, snapping and generally being a nuisance to them. I don't really do touchy feely cutesy stuff unless I really like someone. And I hate nicknames. So quit it with the sweetspark or I'm gonna break out in hives."
He stared at her for another moment, his processor hard-rebooting to help him digest that nugget of information, and he faltered a little. He had no idea what 'ace' meant, but slag, if she was a bot, he'd be all over her… He crushed that thought right along with the other one, burrying it even deeper into the folds of his mind.
"Yeah, yeah, sure whatever," he agreed without really caring about the details. "Just pretend you like me and are considering the whole conjux thing. For the bit. Deal?"
He offered her his servo, smirking audial to audial. She stared at his hand as if he'd zap her. Or, more likely, pull her into his arms and snog her stupid, if the suspicious and distasteful sneer was any indicator. "Pretending?" she confirmed without confidence.
He snorted. "Yeah, pretending, fleshie. You think I'd actualy want a weird, soft, gross wet thing like you?"
Her expression drained, only leaving behind a ghost of hurt and his spark tightened. The shift was instanteneous and left him with vertigo. Too far. "Uh…"
She took his servo, gripping his palm with a vengeful, malicious strength that made his joints creak, and shook it. Her mouth carved out a sharp grin into her facial features, an expression that didn't even graze her eyes, and he was reminded that this little fleshling was a predator. She was a member of Earth's dominant species. And that had to be for a reason. For all of his Cybertronian logic and programming, his rat instincts made him very, very nervous of her.
"Deal," she agreed, her voice barbed with poison. "See you tomorrow at Eight a.m. hot stuff." She pulled him closer and his vents jammed up, sputtering. "Don't be late," she hissed.
With that command, she released him and exited the closet with a black expression. He remained stock still, rattled and recovering as his stupid rat brain fought off its instinct to flee far, far away from the little human.
He took a few minutes to recalibrate his systems, just to be sure, before he slunk back to his bunk to hide and reflect on the day. It was hours later when he realized that he hadn't bothered to ask her for her name. And ever since Soundwave had tracked down sensitive details regarding his caretaker, all personnel files had to be stored phsysically exclusively. He groaned. Another damned excursion into the filing cabinets of HR. Joy.
———————————
Eliza sat in her car for a long time. A long enough time that the sun had long since set by the time she snapped out of it. She stared into the middle distance, agonizing over the conversation. The 'deal.'
'You think I'd want a thing like you?'
Some thing. Not even some one. Tears burned her eyes and she laughed weakly, pained and exhausted, because of course this would happen to her. Of course. She wasn't sure what would actually be worse: a bot vying for her affections and ignorant that she had no intetest, or a bot that didn't even see her as a person, let alone worthy of affection no matter how one sided.
"Stupid. You can't have your cake and eat it," she spat hatefully at herself. She didn't need attention from some… egotistical, selfish creep. He wasn't even tolerable, let alone attractive!
"Yeah, well, who'd want a disgusting, sleazy peice of garbage like you?" She spat back, as if he was listening. "I'd rather chew glass!"
With that hollow barb to soothe her shattered ego, she finally turned her car on and headed home for the night. Day one: down. 364 more to go.
in love & in war, drabble 5: the one where he begins to understand you
Description: Join Ciel, the Earl of Phantomhive, as he embarks on one of the most difficult challenges of his professional life: getting you to fall in love with him in order to become the next chairman of TransAtlantica—your father’s vast shipping empire.
Warnings: none!
Author’s Note: hi! i have nothing to say for myself except, i'm trying my best lol. i'm so sorry for the delay, this ended up being so much longer than i expected. i hope you all like this one! i had a lot of fun writing it. next stop (hopefully): wanted dead or alive, chapter 1! assuming i don’t change my mind and premiere the other new fic i’m working on and surprise ya’ll. who knows, right?? suspense is fun lol. anyway, thank you for reading!!
Happy Reading!
Dan <3
⇐ PREVIOUS DRABBLE | NEXT DRABBLE ⇒
MASTERLIST
Regent’s Park, London, 1895
CIEL PHANTOMHIVE
Ciel arrived at Regent’s Park far earlier than he should have, but he would have otherwise been a fool to risk arriving after Adam Kingston did.
He had to be in control. It was imperative to maintain Lady Y/n’s attention, and he was decently assured that they would both be in attendance today. No one with an exclusive invite would miss an Edward Sutton exhibition—the grossly affluent man picked a new engineering project to sponsor every year. He accepted applications from engineers and funded the fruits of their imagination and labor into reality, oftentimes developing these innovations into businesses. Each year, he’d host these outdoor exhibitions, turning them into social functions to make the most of his publicity.
This time, Ciel supposed Sutton chose some engineer who made an advancement with hot air balloons. Something about changing the burners that fueled them. Ciel didn’t particularly care for engineering—Sebastian suggested he allow Y/n explain it to him, anyway, it made her feel confident—but there was something to be said about annual sponsorship programs. TransAtlantica was nothing without its charitable pursuits, and Lord Richmond and Edward Sutton were old friends.
Nevertheless, it was another tiring, unfortunate outdoor social gathering that Ciel had to grit his way through. Even worse, this event came just on the heels of that cursed Grand National race a little less than a week ago. He hadn’t seen Lady Y/n since—he’d failed to secure another invitation from her at the end of the race because he’d been so livid. Her face had been overshadowed with something between pity and regret, smoothed over by a smile that would have fooled anyone unacquainted with her. Ciel had to make a quick escape to avoid making an ass of himself.
Kingston’s appearance wasn’t her doing, it seemed to have been at her mother’s hand, Ciel reminded himself. He took a long drink out of his sherry cobbler cocktail, the sour wine undercut by hints of orange. Ciel needed the beverage’s cold reprise before she showed. It was going to be soon, and he needed his mood to improve before that happened.
Ciel settled next to a high table, one of many near Sutton’s outside bar and banquet table crowded with hors d'oeuvres. It was an open cocktail bar; therefore, bound to get busier as more guests joined, so he thought to request one for Lady Y/n, too. She might appreciate the thought—Sebastian did say she liked fruity wine selections.
The sun was beating down on the Earl hard, and he was positive his dark hair absorbed the light and made him warmer. At least there was a notable breeze, a strong one that pushed through his heated hair and dried up the beginnings of perspiration on his face. Ciel’s nose wrinkled at the scent of freshly cut grass and the lingering scent of gasoline. Down the field, Sutton’s engineering team fussed with the giant hot air balloon. The massive balloon bobbed, but each person held a rope to tether it into the ground.
“Everyone is arrivin’ early! Hurry up and secure it already!” One of the workers snapped, hurriedly looking up as more guests entered the field. It was just about time for the prompt noble families to start showing up: in tandem with the exact time printed on their invitation.
Ciel could handle this. He’d planned and prepared for this event. Adam Kingston was no one but a husk of an entirely prosaic man. It didn’t matter that he was more acquainted with the Y/l/n family than Ciel was. Once Y/n spent longer than a moment or so with Kingston now, she would realize he was no conversationalist. She and Ciel were intellectuals. He was a soldier. A cocky, over confident son of a—
“Lord Phantomhive, good afternoon.” Lady Y/n sounded nervous behind him.
The moment he heard her voice, Ciel urged his scowl to fall from his face. Sebastian had condescendingly coached him about the abrasive expression he wore time and time again. Apparently, Ciel’s frustrated glare and impatient purse of his lips made him appear dour and sanctimonious. So he took a long drink out of his chilled cocktail before he turned around, urging the tension out of his shoulders.
A man Y/n would want to love was patient and understanding. Not dour and sanctimonious. The future chairman of the foremost shipping country in the United Kingdom, and perhaps most of Europe, thought before he acted.
Y/N Y/L/N
Lord Phantomhive was slow to face you, likely occupied with the sight of Edward Sutton’s group of sponsored engineers struggling to re-tether their giant gas balloon to the ground. It was quite a sight, though you hoped the engineers didn’t rush the important process of reliably securing it down.
“My Lady,” Lord Phantomhive answered easily, meeting your gaze confidently in spite of the discourteousness that perspired the week before. He was nursing a cocktail, just as most of the young men at the gathering were. It was hot enough outside to justify it, you supposed. An untouched cocktail stood on the high table next to the Earl. “How do you do?”
“Quite well, thank you,” your answer came out more hurried than you wished. Unladylike. You pursed and released your lips, they slid easily from the light lip rouge on them. Your gloved hand tucked a stray strand of hair back behind your ear, it fell free from the braided bun Daphne twisted your hair into. “I apologize for last week…I—” your breath stalled, unsure how to verbalize that your mother hijacked the outing without your consent. As a young girl, your etiquette master never covered a situation like this.
Speak with intent. “I was not as informed as I would have liked to have been. And I apologize because…” I should have been.
It was your fourth time meeting the Earl in any official capacity, and yet your mouth still felt dry with unspoken words, embarrassment. He drew such wariness and uncertainty from you—not at all like most eligible men your age. You’d never felt so unsure of yourself in front of someone, but you simply couldn’t know what to make of him.
“My Lady…” Lord Phantomhive acknowledged your apology, but he didn’t entertain it. He seemed to accept it with a diminutive shake of his head, dismissing your guilt. He offered you the untouched cocktail to his right, and you took it with thanks. Your fingers brushed against Lord Phantomhive’s bare hand in the exchange. The drink was a peace offering and an invitation to talk longer, you hoped, so you stepped forward to stand at his side and watch the engineers secure the balloon.
He must have thought to request a drink for you. And a tasteful sherry wine selection, at that. You could tell by the smell of its fruity fragrance—you adored sherry wine.
“Here to see Sutton’s new toy?” Lord Phantomhive asked, a ghost of a smile lifted the side of his mouth. “I certainly am.”
“Of course. My father reviews Mr. Sutton’s applicants with him every cycle,” you answered with a thankful smile, appreciating the way the cold glass felt through your lace gloves. You turned to gesture at your parents engaged in a vibrant conversation with Edward and his wife, Maria.
“Right,” Lord Phantomhive nodded. “This hot air balloon has an adapted burner or–” he stopped himself, immediately catching the way your eyebrows drew together. Your mouth opened and closed because you wanted to interject, but immediately thought better of it. “You may correct me, please,” he told you with false exhaustion. He took a purposeful drink out of his cocktail, gesturing at you to explain the project’s significance.
You laughed, ice in your drink clattering against your glass as your shoulders bounced. “Come. I can show you,” you guided Lord Phantomhive down the green field. As you walked together, you explained, “Mr. Sutton’s team devised a gas balloon filled with hydrogen. Hot air powered balloons are unreliable because there is no device that can efficiently regulate the heat, which controls the balloon’s altitude. Hydrogen gas, meanwhile, is easily adjustable and eliminates the need to maintain a steady fire.”
“How would they manage to get the hydrogen inside?” the Earl asked you, indicating that he was actively listening. So few truly listened to you…it was considered unladylike for you to jabber on, but he asked! He asked you. He could have asked one of the engineers—they were each answering questions and engaging with other guests—or even Sutton himself...but he waited. For you. With a drink—a selection you liked.
Most of the guests stood around the balloon, a few too many people close to its swaying tethers. You pointed to the balloon’s open bottom, “they fill it with pipes that funnel the hydrogen through—they make the hydrogen with sulphuric acid and iron filaments.”
“Fascinating. The gas inside is lighter than the material outside, so it rises…” Lord Phantomhive mumbled, looking intently at the craftsmanship. The balloon itself was red, blue, and white, the colors of the British flag.
“Did you know that they used hot air balloons in the Civil War? In the States?” you asked, taking a drink out of your cocktail. Your throat seized uncomfortably when a familiar blond inserted himself between the gas balloon and you and Lord Phantomhive.
“Indeed they did, Lady Y/n. Indeed they did,” Lord Kingston’s voice made you pause.
CIEL PHANTOMHIVE
Ciel’s first mistake was allowing Lady Y/n to relocate them closer to the heart of the event. If Adam Kingston was going to be anywhere, it would be working the room. Or the lavishly decorated field, in this bloody case.
“Hello, Y/n. You look breathtaking on this fine and flawless day,” Kingston greeted disingenuously, pointedly ignoring Ciel. He seemed to have just stepped out of a conversation with Leonardo Sutton, Edward’s son, and a few other heirs Ciel didn’t care to identify. “I was hoping to see you here. We never got to speak the other day.”
Ciel had just opened his mouth to tell Y/n that no, he hadn’t known that, and the slimy bastard took the opportunity to insert himself in the middle of their conversation. Shameless. Shameless. Instead, Ciel merely watched Adam Kingston, his snake-like green eyes illuminated in the sunlight, the glare making them appear paler. He dressed plainly in a white shirt, brown trousers. A ruby family ring sparkled on his finger and another gold signet ring on his other hand with the number 32, his regiment number from South Africa, or something like that. Sebastian took Ciel through a decent two hours of reconnaissance about the guy.
A man like Kingston will aim to get a rise out of you my Lord. You must not allow him to make you a fool, Sebastian had reminded Ciel when he stepped out of the carriage that afternoon.
He will not make me into something I am not, Ciel had insisted.
“Thank you, Lord Kingston,” Y/n answered sheepishly, red blooming in her cheeks. Adam’s compliment seemed to land, and Ciel wasn’t blind to the way his gaze risked downwards, certainly not interested in her simple diamond necklace, but most definitely the way her light sage gown looked on her body. The subtle floral print on it was a delicate shade of baby pink. Her neckline dipped slightly down, leading to a small bow towards the bottom of her sternum. The shape of this particular gown hugged the curve of her waist and fell down her legs in ruffles. The wind made her skirts hike up slightly, exposing hints of her matching pink heels and pushing her hair about. She had it arranged in an elegant bun typical of her, but much like the beachy wind on the pier, the gusts on the field pushed strands out.
She did look good, objectively.
Y/N Y/L/N
Your etiquette master certainly never covered this type of social crisis—Lord Kingston watching you as if Lord Phantomhive wasn’t even there, and Lord Phantomhive examining you as if Lord Kingston’s comment suddenly gave him something to consider.
Facing each other, they were an artistic sight, too. Lord Phantomhive’s dark and intense look directly contrasted by Lord Kingston’s traditional princely charisma made for such a marvel. Particularly as their gazes met—stern and unforgiving blue against easygoing, mischievous chartreuse.
Kingston crossed his arms over his chest casually, lifting his chin and staring down his nose.
Each man was silent too, expecting the other to introduce himself first. They were unwilling to take the introductory step because it was a vulnerable position, and they were of the same peerage rank, Earls. Had one of them been lower, the burden of introduction would have been yours. But judging by the tense silence…it was yours regardless.
It would be worse to hold two separate conversations concurrently, you decided. You presumed your etiquette book would agree. So you would introduce them.
“Lord Phantomhive, this is Lord Adam Kingston,” you urged yourself to sound calm. Perfectly well—not as if you were wishing to escape. Not as if your throat was threatening to close. “Lord Kingston, this is Lord Ciel Phantomhive,” you said.
“Good to meet you,” Lord Phantomhive said first, extending his free hand to shake Adam’s. He took a slight step forward, but Lord Kingston did not step back as anyone else would have. “You’re the fellow who took the Grand National home, aren’t you? What impeccable luck for a soldier.”
Luck. From the way Lord Kingston’s seafoam eyes hardened, the word and its implications were far from lost on him. His fingers intertwined with Lord Phantomhive's in a single terse shake before releasing. A tad too hasty.
“Guilty,” Kingston said with a dry laugh, one you could tell he didn’t mean. “And you sell children’s toys and confectionery. How delightful,” Lord Kingston simpered. Your eyes immediately darted to Lord Phantomhive’s face. You held your breath, your grip on your glass tightening.
You were sweating. You wanted to use your panic signal with Daphne, but there was no good that would do. It wasn’t a dangerous situation. It was only…excruciating.
CIEL PHANTOMHIVE
So Adam did his research about Ciel, too. Good to know.
“Quite. Funtom has been rather fortunate to have outperformed in every quarter this year,” he answered seamlessly. Adam Kingston was not going to attack his company and flirt with the woman Ciel was clearly courting right in front of him. For the second time. Over his mutilated, dismembered, corpse.
“God forbid the little boys and girls go without their stuffies, right?” Adam teased. It would have appeared good natured to anyone else, but Ciel knew better. Lord Kingston was the worst type of man—-too immature to obey proper courtship ordinances and wait his bloody turn.
He will try to make you look uncaring and aloof. That is his game, Sebastian had insisted. Make him look childish when his jabs fail to land. Remember who you are there for.
Ciel could handle a catty, flirtatious nobody. He was here for himself and his future prospects. TransAtlantica was not an option; it was an inevitability.
So Ciel, with his own dry laugh…that was also clearly, far from genuine, let Adam’s comment roll off his back. There was no use in another retort. It’d be too inflammatory and juvenile.
“My Lady, you were saying that the Americans used gas balloons in their Civil War? You were just about to tell me,” Ciel reminded her. He didn’t even cast a glance at Adam. Although he was truly there for himself, everyone else had to believe he was there for her. This was a clever display of partnership. He would help Y/n diffuse the situation and seemingly set his pride aside in doing so.
But, this decision would favor him in the end. She would appreciate it—he could see it in the way her shoulders dropped.
Y/N Y/L/N
Immediately, your shoulders relaxed. Your next smile was easier to construct because Lord Phantomhive had given you such a seamless transition. Your chest had felt tight from the moment Adam interrupted you. Lord Phantomhive had understood exactly what you needed—just by reading the situation.
“I was,” you confirmed, attempting to hide the full extent of your relief. You didn’t want your old friend to assume that you didn’t want to talk to him. And you did not have the luxury of speaking without consequence, Leonardo Sutton and that group was not shy about their presence. You could hear Leonardo making some crass joke to his circle somewhere behind your back. This affair, much like most of your outings, was populated with your peers. And those of your parents.
You couldn’t appear vapid and indecisive.
Your father dedicated too much time to cultivating your knowledge for polite society to believe you were catty. What would he say to you right now? You had to fight the urge to look back at the tables situated near the bar in search of him.
“…Shall we return to our table? I can bore you with facts about reconnaissance and artillery hot air balloons, if you wish, Lord Phantomhive,” you attempted to quip, turning to him.
The transition was far from subtle, but Adam hadn’t been either in his objectives. And he had stolen your attention at the last outing. You hadn’t been fair to Lord Phantomhive, and you had to repay that. Adam Kingston could not break the standard for proper courtship processes; if he wished to declare his interest in your hand, he needed to do so properly. If you continued like this, the three of you would make a scene.
“That would be delightful,” he answered, meeting your gaze. Understanding was clear in his face, amusement curving his mouth yet again. You took a step back, indicating that you were finished with the interaction. Adam’s face fell and he took another short step closer.
“Lord Kingston, it has been lovely speaking to you, but we should be going—”
CIEL PHANTOMHIVE
“To your table? I would love to try one of—whatever it is you’ve got there, they look divine,” Adam interjected, gesturing to his and Y/n’s identical cocktails. “And of course, to hear about the hot air balloons, and all. I forgot how much you like to…read,” he said, the last word flat and disdainful to his ears, but Y/n didn’t seem to notice.
Kingston wasn’t going down without a fight, but it was only to his detriment. He was maddening, but the worse he acted, the more Lady Y/n would wish him away. The gentlemanly action would have been to let them leave; both she and TransAtlantica desired someone diplomatic and rational. Socially adept.
Ciel could see Lady Y/n’s dissent in the way her eyebrows furrowed together and her mouth pressed into a politely frustrated line for a moment. If Kingston noticed, he made a persuasive effort in acting as if he hadn’t.
“I always have,” she answered as pleasantly as she could manage, observant eyes swiftly gathering that the rest of the party was invested in this exchange. Ciel could feel eyes on them. Craning necks were ever-present in this life of gilded luxury, always. If he could feel the interest of interlopers, so could Lady Y/n.
“Though…” the noblewoman started to say. Her gaze met Ciel’s, somehow asking, fretting, and apologizing all at once. Her resolve crumbled under the scrutiny around them.
The rest of the aristocracy wanted to know if Lady Y/n would truly tell her old friend to leave her be after such a grand gesture last week. Fine. Let her see how he and Kingston compared intellectually, if she wished. Fine!
“They are sherry cobbler cocktails,” Ciel interrupted seamlessly, his voice polite, verging on unctuous. The same subtly impertinent tone Sebastian took with him. From experience, he knew it was enraging. “I chose them from today’s selection. You ought to join us back at our table, Kingston. You may just learn another thing or two,” Ciel challenged as politely as his select words could manage. He made eye contact with Adam, their sight lines meeting. Ciel refused to break eye contact—even if it was to risk a look at Y/n’s reaction. He and Adam were the same height, just about, but their physical similarities seemed to end there.
Unable to deny Ciel’s confrontation, Adam reflected his chilling smile. He laughed a little, broad shoulders jumping. “With Lady Y/n? I always expect to learn something new. Ever since we were small.”
Ciel fought his urge to roll his eyes. And his urge to bury his face—now beading with sweat from the infernal sun in the damn sky—in his hands.
Y/N Y/L/N
The exchange was painful, but a surprisingly genuine show of understanding on Lord Phantomhive’s part. The Earl had caught onto your fears and made conclusions based on your microexpressions, a silent language that you’d thought only Daphne would ever know. Was this what it was like to feel the beginnings of the connection you so craved?
There was something traitorous about the hope you felt. You’d never thought girlish giddiness would feel so scandalous.
The three of you stood at the same high table. A server brought Adam a drink and with the full utilization of your charisma and social awareness, you managed to hold one terse conversation between the three of you. Lord Phantomhive even helped you navigate it, somehow simultaneously fending off Lord Kingston’s disguised slights without making a scene.
He encouraged you to speak the most, to be the focus of the interaction because the animosity between them would never improve. Everyone knew why that was: they each wanted a chance at your hand. Two of your social class’ most eligible bachelors had their sights set on you.
Or your family name and business.
You managed to rebuild your confidence by talking through the intricacies of ballooning, their history, the science. After all, you’d only fostered that knowledge in light of Mr. Sutton’s project. Although you didn’t see every application your father looked at, he did show you some of the standout pitches. Lofty businessmen approached him and TransAtlantica with new ideas nearly every day—you had to know a good idea when you saw one.
Once you found your stride, you nodded at Daphne. The maid had been sending you increasingly worried faces, but as you settled into a new topic, you knew you had this under control. You would not flail, you would not retreat.
If you couldn’t do this much, how could you ever hope to have an executive spot in your family business?
Before you knew it, the sun started to set and dinner was served with a champagne toast led by Edward Sutton and your father.
You knocked your flute of champagne with both Lord Phantomhive and Lord Kingston individually, the three of you taking a drink in tandem. Each nobleman made a point of not knocking his glass with the other.
“Interesting selection,” Lord Phantomhive commented, taking another curious drink of the champagne. “Vintage?” He asked you, lifting an eyebrow. You couldn’t discern if he was truly curious or bidding to make conversation.
“It seems so,” you answered with uncertainty, unsure without seeing the specific bottle. The champagne was strong on your tongue. The taste was complex: somewhere between honey, spice, and brioche.
“It’s rich enough to be. Not very acidic and rich on the palette,” Adam said. “I know Mr. Sutton likes 1800 Grande Cognac. He would certainly break it out for a celebration like this. Oh, Leo! Perfect. What selection is this?” He gave a bright smile to Leonardo Sutton as he approached your table, flute of champagne in hand.
The event only had about an hour or two left before it reached its natural conclusion. In theory, there might have been a way for you to complete it without another major social upset.
But unfortunately, that estimation would have required you to overestimate Leonardo Sutton. At least, he had the good sense to leave the rest of his and Adam’s friends back at their table.
Most of them disliked you, and the feeling was mutual. They’d each struck out on courtship-intended outings with you—particularly Leonardo.
“1800 Grande Cognac, why? We’re liking this selection?” Leonardo grinned at the three of you bumping his flute with Adam and drinking, the latter laughing because his guess was correct. “How are you, Lady Y/n? Lord Phantomhive?” He extended his flute to you and Lord Phantomhive.
“Just lovely, Leonardo,” you replied dismissively.
“You know I prefer Leo,” the young man smarted, as if you weren’t a noblewoman who outranked him. The Sutton family was not ennobled; they were the start of an fabulously wealthy lineage. If you married a man like Leonardo, you’d never see TransAtlantica’s boardroom ever again, much less a contract or a revenue summary…or…the thought was too horrible to bear. But that was why you would find a suitable man who loved you enough to throw social norms to the wind and honor your and your father’s wishes. The ones he fought such a long, legal battle to secure as a potential reality for you. Most women were never to engage in business or bookkeeping, but if you married a man who was the Chairman in name, you were meticulously trained to handle any of the responsibilities associated with it.
All you had to do was find a man competent and modest enough to let you. If a man courted you for the business, he would surely ignore you.
CIEL PHANTOMHIVE
The light in Y/n’s eyes died when Leonardo Sutton invited himself into the conversation. Ciel’s own mood dipped lower than he thought possible, too. Leonardo was not a malicious man, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t bothersome. Like a troublesome fly buzzing around his head. The man’s voice was irritating enough to equate to that frustrating noise.
Clearing his throat, Leonardo spoke again, disliking the silence that permeated when Lady Y/n refused to engage with his tired nickname quip. He primarily drank and rode comfortably on his father’s coattails; Ciel couldn’t help his amusement at Y/n’s (evident, to him) disdain.
“They’re letting people go in it, two at a time. Not to ride—it’s too windy today—just to take a closer look inside,” he said, well aware of the implications of his words. He was attempting to imply that Lady Y/n would have to choose between Ciel and Adam, and trying to make another scene.
Did Adam put his friend up to this stunt? Ciel wouldn’t put it past Adam—not after his cattiness thus far.
“That sounds fantastic,” Kingston replied, a terrible actor. His snake eyes cut to Y/n purposefully as she lifted her glass to her lips. “They do seem like they’re...learning quite a lot in there,” he suggested, referring to the guests climbing in and out of the balloon’s wicker basket. The balloon levitated a few feet up in the air, bobbing in its fixed position through its tethers and ballast weights keeping it from floating away.
Adam’s statement was a flailing attempt to appeal to Y/n, Ciel felt. The awkward smile Adam gave to Y/n was just charming enough to make the trying statement seem thoughtful.
When he shifted in his seat at the dinner table—Sutton’s staff converted some of the casual high tables for dining tables—Ciel recalled he had a knife tucked into his trousers. All he honestly needed was ten minutes alone with Kingston, a change of clothing, and a shovel to hide the evidence.
The Earl’s fingers pressed hard around the stem of his glass, instead, longing to wrap around something much larger, and warmer. Like Kingston’s neck, for instance.
“I’ve already studied the diagrams so much I’ve practically memorized them,” Y/n explained with a short laugh, one that was completely faux to Ciel, but he doubted Adam and Leonardo noticed.
Knowing her, she was burning to take a look at the real mechanism and compare it to the diagrams from the proposal, but there was no graceful way to choose between Ciel and Adam. “I would hate to take up the time in there when someone could truly learn something,” she explained smartly, reasoning her way out of the affront.
“I feel that studying the diagrams is entirely different than seeing them up close,” Kingston tried again.
Before Ciel could help himself, he chimed in. “Some can grasp a new concept faster than others, I reckon, Lady Y/n.”
Y/N Y/L/N
Not even you could conceal the laugh that Lord Phantomhive tore out of you.
You felt a guilty sense of relief when the conversation’s focus shifted from your bemusement to Leonardo’s startling exclamation of worry, the curses that followed it. His brown eyes widened in shock, “No! Secure it, secure it!” Leonardo yelled, causing your head to jerk, looking behind your seat as two attendants struggled to pull the floating gas balloon back towards the ground… with a young boy inside, screaming and crying as the balloon ascended in the orange sky. The attendants around scrambled frantically, crying out for help to pull the balloon down by the ropes.
“We must help!” Lord Kingston insisted. He, Lord Phantomhive, and Leonardo didn’t wait another moment before charging towards the balloon. Most of the men around you did, whereas you jumped to your feet, hands covering your mouth in worry.
“This is horrible!’ You exclaimed at Daphne, breath labored as you lifted your skirts to run closer, joining onlookers as young men helped the attendants wrestle with the balloon against the wind. In the front of the crowd, a woman—-presumably the boy’s mother—-sobbed in the arms of another woman you didn’t know.
“They’re going to get him back down, Elizabeth, they’ve got him. See? Look at all the strong young men,” the woman insisted, her voice thin with worry.
You wracked your mind for an explanation. The tethering certainly seemed more than stable…the gas balloon had a number of weights on it. The wind was stronger than usual, but certainly not enough to make the balloon break free of its restrictions, surely. None of the ropes seemed to have snapped, either….what happened?
CIEL PHANTOMHIVE
There was a silent, stiff understanding between himself and Lord Kingston: neither one of them was interested in fumbling this accident and appearing like halfwits in front of polite society. And Y/n Y/l/n.
“Kingston, take this! Pull!” Ciel shouted over the overlapping yells around them. He took hold of the last rope without anyone to pull it down. He offered Adam the tail of the rope as he pulled from slightly further up the rope, the rough texture making his palms red and raw. The Earl dug the short heels of his boots into the grass, engaging every bit of his strength in urging the balloon down in one of the world’s most intensive games of tug of war.
“All right, all right,” Kingston said, gaze darting between the rope in Ciel’s hand and meeting his stare, as if he couldn’t believe Ciel would let him help. Not even the Earl of Phantomhive’s ego was large enough to refuse help in saving a child. The notion was nearly offensive.
Behind him, Adam started pulling as well, slightly lessening the resistance Ciel encountered.
“Heave, men, heave!” Edward Sutton grunted, pulling a rope with Leonardo and another engineer. There were six ropes with a few men to each one, gradually tugging the balloon back down to avoid tipping it or scaring the boy even more.
Ciel gritted his teeth, his arms and the rest of his body shaking with effort. Sweat ran down his neck and the side of his spine. Ridiculous, this was, and he had a decent idea as to why it was happening, too. There was no doubt a smug demon butler in the vicinity watching his master put all of his mental and physical capabilities into romancing a young woman, and using any excuse to challenge him further.
What is your point, Sebastian? Ciel wanted to yell out.
Y/N Y/L/N
As you watched the assortment between engineers, Sutton’s help, and noblemen work in tandem to re-tether the gas balloon’s restraints, you couldn’t help but feel drawn to watching Lord Phantomhive work. His royal blue eye and raven hair were even more striking against his light grey vest and white undershirt. When the Earl focused, he seemed unstoppable. You held your breath.
You’d never seen him move so dynamically, either, save from when he pulled you out of the way of a moving carriage.
“My Lady…” Daphne reminded you gently, placing a sisterly hand on your shoulder. “You are staring at the Earl Phantomhive,” she reminded you quietly, close to your ear. The blond gestured to your mother at the front of the crowd, carefully watching your father.
Flushing, you immediately stared at the blades of grass below you. You squeezed your eyes closed, releasing the breath you were holding. How shameful. There was a child in peril and you were….
Control yourself, Y/n. Mother and father are here.
“Thank you, Daphne,” you sighed. The young woman squeezed your shoulder affectionately and released you.
Fortunately, it didn’t take long for the group to gain control of the balloon, the attendants successfully re-tying it down. Lord Kingston helped the young boy down the short ladder and into his mother’s waiting arms. She kneeled in the grass, sobbing with her child close to her chest. “My baby, my baby,” she mumbled into his hair, gentle fingers running through it. Her husband, one of those pulling the ropes, embraced his wife and child on his knees, a scene that made your throat feel tight. Your eyes stung, tears threatening to run down your face. You blinked rapidly to regain control.
Love. It was love.
“You should tell him he did a lovely job, my Lady,” Daphne suggested, a little more impishly than she’d typically risk. The blonde giggled at you.
You swallowed around your dry throat, nodding twice in agreement so hard that you could feel your teardrop earrings sway.
CIEL PHANTOMHIVE
Ciel’s right arm crossed his chest in a deep stretch. He was sweating more than a pig, it was miserable. He was in pain, and he would be for the next couple of days to a week for this strenuous exercise in—
“Lord Phantomhive,” Lady Y/n approached him rather than Adam, who masked his mortification by turning to Leonardo. “That was incredible.”
“It was an effort that required all of our participation,” Ciel answered as diplomatically as he could manage. He immediately dropped his right arm, disinterested in appearing weak or in pain before the noblewoman. Instead, he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, certain his hair was disheveled along with the rest of him. The new pair of boots he sported had to be caked in dirt, too.
“Of course, though it couldn’t have been easy,” Y/n insisted, likely taking in how disorderly and piggish Ciel looked. There was no way his appearance was appealing in any way, and yet, she’d never had such awe in her face when she regarded him before this. Save for perhaps the first few seconds after he pulled her out of the way of that carriage—before he misspoke.
It wasn’t easy. It’s a miracle I’m still in one piece, damn it.
“I’m simply relieved we managed to help the boy,” Ciel told her, motioning towards the embracing family with his chin. The mother had yet to let go of their child or even stop crying. “And that we were there in time—what a strange accident.”
“It was, wasn’t it?” Y/n agreed ponderously. “I cannot understand why the tethers would just…fail so suddenly,” she said, frowning as she looked back at the balloon. Edward Sutton, Lord Y/l/n, and the engineering team asked for the guests to return to the tables to allow them to inspect it for technical faults.
They wouldn’t find any, Ciel presumed. His butler had to have taken some creative measures to…raise the stakes. Literally.
“I’m sure they will find the cause and correct the issue,” he lied seamlessly as they started back towards their table. For all intents and purposes, the event was over. Most of the guests were too unsettled and worried to sustain the atmosphere and company.
“Absolutely,” Lady Y/n agreed. “...Lord Phantomhive? Would you perhaps consider…tea? At my home? This week?”
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts University of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Please note that all students, be they from wizarding families with access to homeschooling in the magical arts, or beginner-level muggleborns, will be subject to a foundation year to bridge learning gaps before choosing a specialty for the subsequent three years. Required general education courses are listed in Appendix A, alongside all specialized programs offered and their courses.
Also find enclosed in Appendix B a list of all necessary books and equipment as of the foundation year.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31. Should you already have a specialty in mind, please specify in writing.
Appendix A: Course Catalogue
General Education Requirements for Foundation Year Students
First Semester:
1. Introduction to Magical Studies and Theory
2. Magical History and Ethics
3. Charms and Enchantments
4. Physical Education: Dueling and Flight
Second Semester:
1. Introduction to Potionry and Natural Ingredients
2. Basics of Transfiguration
3. Defense Against the Dark Arts
4. Astronomy, Astrology, and Divination: the Celestial Art
Bachelor of Magic in Alchemical Engineering
First Year:
1. Foundations of Alchemy and Elementalism
2. Foundations of Metallurgy
3. Elemental Transmutation Systems
4. Magical Thermodynamics and Energetics
Second Year:
1. Innovation and Engineering of Spells and Potions I
2. Philosopher’s Stone Theory
3. Thaumaturgy
4. Ethics of Material Creations
Final Year:
1. Innovation and Engineering of Spells and Potions II
2. Integration of Runes, Gematria, and Pythagoreanism
3. Industrial Alchemy Applications
4. Capstone Project
Bachelor of Magic in Ancient Runes and Glyphology
First Year:
1. Introduction to Ancient Runes
2. Proto-Magical Writing Systems
3. Rune Translation Techniques
4. Glyph Crafting and Design
Second Year:
1. Protective Inscription Magic
2. Curse-Breaking Fundamentals
3. Runic Syntax and Structure
4. Comparative Magical Languages
Final Year:
1. Enchanted Script Activation
2. Archaeological Rune Recovery
3. Forbidden Glyphs Seminar
4. Capstone Project
Bachelor of Magic in Divination Sciences
First Year
1. Foundations of Divination
2. Celestial Cartography
3. Tarot, Arithmancy, and Symbolic Systems
4. Scrying Methods and Xylomancy
Second Year:
1. Dream Interpretation
2. Probability and Magical Foresight
3. Time Magic Theory
4. Aura Reading and Energy Fields
Final Year:
1. Prophecy Analysis
2. Advanced Seer Training
3. Ethics of Knowing Too Much
4. Comprehensive Practical Exam
Bachelor of Magic in Economics and Management
First Year:
1. Wizarding Economic Systems
2. Magical Trade and Currency
3. Resource Management
4. Business of Potion Production
Second Year:
1. Magical Supply Chains
2. Goblin Banking Systems
3. Entrepreneurship in the Wizarding World
4. Regulation of Magical Goods
Final Year:
1. Risk & Curse Liability
2. Leadership and Guild Management
3. International Wizarding Markets
4. Capstone Project
Bachelor of Magic in Enchanted Artistry
First Year
1. Introduction to Magical Art
2. Living Paintings and Animation
3. Enchanted Sculpting
4. Illusion Design
Second Year:
1. Color Magic Theory
2. Musical Enchantments
3. Interactive Spell Installations
4. Fashion and Wearable Magic
Final Year:
1. Storytelling Through Enchantment
2. Artifacts as Art
3. Emotional Magic and Expression
4. Final Exhibition Project
Bachelor of Magic in Healing Arts and Potionry
First Year:
1. Potioneering I
2. Anatomy and Physiology
3. Foundations of Healing
4. Advanced Herbology
Second Year:
1. Potioneering II
2. Medical Charms and Enchantments
3. Toxicology and Antidotes
4. History and Law Behind Iatrochemistry
Final Year:
1. Potioneering III
2. Mind Healing and Memory Magic
3. Chronic Curse Treatment
4. Clinical Apprenticeship
Bachelor of Magic in Magical Creatures Care
First Year:
1. Introduction to Magical Creatures
2. Creature Classification Systems
3. Habitat and Ecology
4. Dragonology
Second Year:
1. Beast Behavior and Communication
2. Magical Creature Healing
3. Ethical Creature Handling
4. Conservation and Protection
Final Year:
1. Dangerous Creatures Management
2. Creature-Wizard Relations
3. Field Study Practicum
4. Capstone Project
Bachelor of Magic in Muggle Studies
First Year:
1. Introduction to Muggle Culture
2. History of Non-Magical Societies
3. Sociology of Muggles
4. Freshman Seminar in Being a Fresh Man
Second Year:
1. Politics and Global Systems
2. Muggle Economics
3. Media and Communication
4. Magic vs STEM
Final Year:
1. Integration and Secrecy Laws
2. Cultural Exchange
3. Field Immersion Experience
4. Capstone Project
Bachelor of Magic in Law, Ethics, and Auror Studies
First Year:
1. Defensive Spellcasting I
2. Wizarding Law Foundations
3. Magical Ethics
4. Dark Arts Identification
Second Year:
1. Defensive Spellcasting II
2. Criminal Investigation
3. Magical Forensics
4. Interrogation, Occlumency, and Legilimency
Final Year:
1. International Magical Law
2. Conflict Resolution
3. Auror Training Practicum
4. Final Trial Simulation
Bachelor of Magic in Transfiguration Arts
First Year:
1. Basics of Transfiguration
2. Partial Transfiguration
3. Wizard Transfiguration Ethics
4. Conjuration and Vanishment
Second Year:
1. Applications of Apparating and Invisibility
2. Advanced Shape-Shifting
3. Animagi vs Metamorphmagi
4. Precision Magic Control
Final Year:
1. Reversal and Error Correction
2. Transfiguration in Combat
3. Experimental Forms
4. Comprehensive Practical Exam
Bachelor of Magic in Wizarding History and Archaeology
First Year:
1. Ancient Magical Civilizations
2. History of Wizarding Wars
3. Archaeological Methods
4. Magical Artifacts Study
Second Year:
1. Lost Spells and Rituals
2. Tomb Exploration Techniques
3. Ghost Lore
4. Cultural Evolution of Magic
Final Year:
1. Historical Text Analysis
2. Preservation Magic
3. Field Excavation
4. Capstone Project
Appendix B: Supply List
Foundation Year Students Will Require:
Recommended Clothing:
1. Three sets of plain work robes (black).
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for formal wear.
3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar).
4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings).
Books:
1. The Standard Book of Spells by Miranda Goshawk
2. A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
3. Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
4. A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
5. One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
6. Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
7. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
8. The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble
Other Equipment:
1. Your Personal Wand
2. 1 broomstick
3. 1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
4. 1 set of glass or crystal phials
5. 1 telescope
6. 1 set of brass scales
Students may also bring an Owl OR a Cat OR a Toad.
A/N: i’m so curious if u guys could choose any of those majors what would u go for👀
last day of my job tomorrow, still not really sinking in because I've been so busy trying to tie up a billion loose ends. This is the first permanent job in my field that I've had, it's going to be really strange leaving it behind and knowing these burdens aren't mine to deal with anymore, and the flip side, I will no longer have any control over these things that I've put so much of my heart and soul into for the last seven years. call me a treehugger but like. i'm literally walking around campus touching the plants I grew from seed and helped nurture to become part of our gardens, and saying goodbye and good luck to them, knowing I won't be there to water them, to chase off the groundhogs, to watch them grow and blossom and fulfill their ecological purpose. they'll be in someone else's hands and I'm scared no one will understand or care about them the way I did, and the way they deserve. I don't want to see everything I worked to build here just collapse because no one would help me build a framework for long-term success.
it's been a long time since I haven't been able to see what's around the corner, i'm moving back home and I don't have another job yet and it's a terrifying time for the environmental sciences and to be a young person in general. everyone saying how amazing I am and how I'll find something even better but after all these years I don't believe these words. that was always the double-edged sword of this job, getting to do such rewarding things yet feeling like it's never enough, and that I'm never enough. My self-esteem has never been higher or lower than in this job. my imposter syndrome has never been worse despite the praise I get from those I help, because my superiors have made me feel so low through years of mixed messages and passive aggressive comments. being exposed to other academics in my field has made me feel like I know nothing and that I'm not even a good scientist, while on the other side my family and the public that I teach call me an expert, call me inspiring and gifted. it's a nauseous bell curve and I live at both tail ends. I stayed in this job until I physically couldn't do it anymore, until my mental health was being put through a cheese grater and the benefits of leaving outweighed the loss of health insurance, of a decent salary, of the programs I was involved with that were gaining momentum. the fact that I've applied to a dozen seasonal positions and only one offered me an interview, when I'm a postgrad in an applicant pool of undergrads, doesn't help my self-worth much.
but, I am happy to go home. I want to work closer to home. I don't know if it will pan out that way, but I have to look forward to finding a new group of people to work with, a new place to live outside this dreadful, dingy city I've lost my 20s to. new surroundings, new morale, hopefully the chance to advance my career instead of plateauing and continuing to forget the things I got my degree in. it's just surreal not knowing what is going to happen next. i literally don't know. i don't know how to feel about not knowing. I cleaned out my space in the lab this week. just like that i will turn in my keys and this place is not mine anymore. it moves on, it absorbs the hole i left. this place is not mine to wander freely. i hope it remembers what i tried to do for it. i hope someone cares enough to keep things going.
The Growing Importance of Mobile App Development for Businesses
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Security and scalability have also improved significantly in modern mobile applications. Businesses can now develop secure apps with advanced features such as data encryption and biometric authentication. Additionally, scalable app architectures allow companies to grow and adapt without major disruptions.
In conclusion, mobile app development is no longer optional—it is a strategic necessity for businesses aiming to succeed in a competitive digital environment. From improving customer engagement and increasing revenue to enhancing operational efficiency and brand visibility, mobile apps offer countless benefits. Companies that invest in mobile app development today are better prepared to meet future demands and achieve sustainable growth.
I help CEOs and CTOs automate, scale, and grow through AI-driven digital… · Experience: SB Infowaves · Education: IBS Hyderabad · Location:
2026’s Top 10 Web Development Company Trends You Can’t Ignore
The world of web development is evolving faster than ever. In 2026, companies are no longer just building websites, they’re creating experiences. As technology advances and user expectations rise, web development companies need to stay ahead of the curve to deliver fast, interactive, and secure digital solutions. Here’s a look at the top trends shaping the industry this year.
1. AI-Powered Web Development
Artificial Intelligence is no longer optional. Web development companies are using AI to automate coding, optimize user experience, and even personalize content for visitors. From chatbots to predictive analytics, AI is helping websites become smarter and more responsive.
2. Progressive Web Apps (PWAs)
PWAs combine the best of web and mobile apps. They load quickly, work offline, and provide app-like experiences without users needing to download anything. Companies are investing in PWAs to improve engagement and retention.
3. Voice Search Optimization
With voice assistants becoming mainstream, websites need to be optimized for voice search. Web development companies are designing sites with conversational search queries in mind, making it easier for users to find information quickly.
4. Motion UI and Interactive Elements
Static websites are becoming a thing of the past. In 2026, trends lean towards interactive design, animations, and motion UI elements that guide users and make websites more engaging. A well-designed interface can significantly improve user retention.
5. Mobile-First Development
Mobile traffic continues to dominate the internet. Web development companies are focusing on mobile-first strategies, ensuring websites look great and function seamlessly on any device. Fast load times, easy navigation, and responsive layouts are now must-haves.
6. Cybersecurity as a Priority
With cyber threats increasing, security is no longer an afterthought. Web development companies are integrating advanced security measures, including SSL certificates, multi-factor authentication, and proactive threat monitoring to keep user data safe.
7. API-First Development
APIs (Application Programming Interfaces) allow different software systems to communicate seamlessly. Companies are adopting API-first approaches to build flexible, scalable, and easily upgradable web applications that integrate well with third-party tools.
8. Low-Code and No-Code Platforms
To speed up development, many companies are using low-code and no-code platforms. These tools allow developers and even non-developers to build functional websites quickly, reducing time-to-market and improving innovation.
9. Sustainable Web Development
Sustainability is becoming a key consideration. Web development companies are focusing on energy-efficient websites, optimized hosting, and reducing digital carbon footprints while maintaining high performance.
10. Blockchain Integration
Blockchain is no longer limited to cryptocurrency. In 2026, web development companies are exploring blockchain for secure transactions, decentralized apps, and transparent data management, offering clients cutting-edge solutions for complex digital needs.
Conclusion
The web development landscape is dynamic and rapidly changing. Companies that embrace these trends will deliver better user experiences, faster websites, and more secure, scalable solutions. Whether you’re a startup or an established business, staying updated with these trends is essential to thrive in a competitive digital world.
Web development companies that combine innovation, technology, and user-focused design are the ones leading the way in 2026. If your website isn’t evolving, it’s likely falling behind but the right partner can ensure you’re always ahead of the curve.
education system of remnant | blog lore / headcanon
remnant’s education system follows a unified foundation model with early specialization at age twelve. while it mirrors aspects of real-world schooling, it is structured around the reality of grimm and the institutional importance of huntsmen and huntresses.
core education (ages 5–11)
from ages five to eleven, all enrolled children follow the same foundational curriculum regardless of future career path.
enrollment may be public, private, or homeschool-based.
subjects include:
mathematics
language and literature
history (kingdoms and the great war)
science fundamentals
health and physical education
this stage is universal and does not yet divide students.
divergence at age 12
at twelve, students select one of two academic tracks:
core path (civilian)
combat path (huntsman preparatory)
this decision shapes the remainder of their formal education.
core path (civilian track)
students who remain in the core path continue a traditional academic route comparable to middle school, secondary school, and university progression.
ages 12–21:
standard academic curriculum
graduation around age twenty-one
preparation for trades or specialized professions
after graduation, students may pursue trade school, medical school, nursing programs, law, engineering, science, business, or other post-graduate specializations.
this track most closely resembles real-world education systems.
combat path (huntsman track)
students intending to become huntsmen or huntresses enroll in a combat school at age twelve.
combat schools (ages 12–16)
combat schools retain core academics but are heavily combat-oriented.
subjects include:
grimm theory
combat theory
aura studies
weapon engineering and personal weapon crafting
survival and field strategy
advanced physical training
traditional subjects are tailored for huntsman application. for example:
math emphasizes trajectory, dust ratios, and logistics.
history focuses on grimm patterns and kingdom conflicts.
science integrates dust theory and environmental survival.
at sixteen, graduates may apply to one of the four huntsman academies:
beacon (vale)
haven (mistral)
shade (vacuo)
atlas (atlas)
acceptance standards vary. atlas is highly selective, while shade is more inclusive. not all applicants are admitted.
huntsman academies (ages 16–21)
huntsman academies function as the combat path equivalent of university.
students complete:
advanced combat specialization
team leadership training
supervised field missions
continued academic coursework
unless expelled or withdrawn, combat students finish formal education at approximately twenty-one.
scholarships are widely available, both need-based and merit-based. some funds exist purely to recognize excellence rather than financial hardship.
post-graduate education
post-graduate study is open to graduates of both the core and combat tracks. the distinction between paths no longer matters at this level.
fields include:
medicine
research sciences
history
engineering
specialized trade certifications
advanced degrees are common among academics and researchers regardless of early track choice.
summary:
ages 5–11: universal core education
age 12: track selection
age 16: combat students apply to huntsman academies
age 21: graduation
post-grad: open to all
remnant’s system is built on survival and specialization. not everyone becomes a huntsman. but everyone is given the foundation to choose.
