#eventually:

[scramjettracy]

John has blocked me from the IR network while I’m stuck in this three-day meeting marathon because it isn’t a great look when I’ve got half an eye on the live feed and start trying to manage rescues during a marketing dept PowerPoint presentation.

And because they “can manage perfectly well without me hovering and in the unlikely event they need my advice or presence he’ll call direct.”

Apparently I am supposed to feel reassured by this. And not redundant at all…

He’s forgotten the mission reports get forwarded to my work email when they get saved.

So, I’m in the finance team’s year end deep dive extravaganza (or ‘YEDDE’ as the CFO keeps calling it because he thinks it sounds groovy) and am 100% focussed on the detail of the ninth spreadsheet they have sent to my tablet (and not at all on the fact they’ve formatted to 2 decimal places in one column and 3 in another and I cannot for the life of me work out the rationale for this) … I’m being a good CEO and trying not to worry about the family. Because they are grown ups and can handle it without me and whatever.

And just as one of the senior accountants is explaining why 1 + 1 does actually equal 3, an email pops up containing this:

…

…

… what happened???

I have made the executive decision that we all need a comfort break and am now pacing the corridor waiting for SOMEBODY ON THE ISLAND TO ANSWER MY CALL.

Is Gordon hurt again?! He looks dead why does he look dead? Was it the lizards again?! Is he ok??? Where did Virgil get a sword and why has nobody told him how to use it?! Has he hurt his hands? Will he ever play piano again?

JOHN GLENN TRACY ANSWER YOUR COMM RIGHT NOW OR SO HELP ME I’M GOING TO SEE HOW FAR BEYOND TRACY TWO’S TOP OPERATING SPEED I CAN GET HER TO FLY.

[jack-kellys]

ad astra, per aspera.

to the stars, through hardship.

jack's never trusted the stars. he wants his feet to be on the grass, on a planet, on a world. when his parents' gazes look skyward, he moves to the ground in the hopes of finding a home. instead, he finds a path.

the *technically* star trek au is here!

allllllll my love and thanks to @newsiesminibang24 for hosting, and @walkman-cat & @agentsnickers for the STUNNING art they’re abt to post. cannot wait for you all to see their contributions, the lovely fellow trekkies that they are 😙♥️ but anyway….

read 8k words of it here!!

[tereox]

Warmup #61 - Agent 24 and Four

Rating: G

Summary: Cuddling with your besties after you worked too far into the night, absolutely super platonic am I righttt At least that's what Four tells themselves.

Notes: Some more of my "Agent 3 and 8 are together and Four is too anxious to ask their opinion on poly relationships" AU. There will be an actual fic for this. Eventually.

~~~

The yawn went through them unbidden. Four's eyes squeezed shut and when they opened them back up, there were those tiredness tears.

Four shook themselves, yawned again.

"Tired?" Eight asked. She didn't look less tired than Four felt, and they smiled.

"A bit." It was an admission, not of guilt but of camaraderie. Three had gone to sleep hours ago, but the question just wasn't letting Four and Eight rest. There had to be a reason, a logical explanation for the unsettling phenomena that was now seen as something to be celebrated.

Eight yawned and Four giggled. "Tired?" they echoed her.

"A bit," Eight allowed. "They did a good job framing the darkness as something good. Nobody complains about more Splatfests."

"A marketing stunt," Four said without inflection and pushed themselves away from the desk to spin in their office chair.

Eight chuckled. "You could say that. Though no one profits from this other than the psyches of our fellow inkfish."

Four was silent as they thought. "Technically," they started and fell silent. "Technically the stores benefit. They get to stay open 24/7 and bump up their prices."

Eight leaned over the table and tilted her head. "Was that present in the beginning?" And that was a fantastic question, it would be important for their research.

"I have no fucking clue," Four admitted. They slid off their chair on purpose and rolled on the floor. Eight giggled. "I'm a floor sausage now, time for bed."

Eight agreed, she bent down and picked Four up, and picked Four's heart rate up right with it. Elevated like Four was. Fucking hell.

"You can join me and Three," Eight said, and headed to the room she shared with Three. It was something Four should contest. Something they shouldn't do, probably. It wasn't a rule but.. well, it was wrong of them to sleep in the same bed as their crushes who were dating each other, wasn't it?

"I think I should-"

"Oh no, I know you'll go right back to researching if I let you out of my sight." And that wasn't a lie, was it? Four had done that and they would definitely do it again in the future. Just not now. They were exhausted.

Four sighed. "Fine." Arguing with Eight would not help their situation one bit. They could think friendship thoughts and it would be like a sleepover. Like the thing that they'd done so often already. Really, if they fought too much against it, Eight might think something had changed in their relationship dynamic. They'd hate to upset her.

So Four let Eight carry them to the room Three was sleeping in and didn't protest when she sandwiched them in between the sleeping agent and herself.

Four didn't tense. Their heart rate was too high but Eight wasn't complaining and Three was dead asleep. They could get through this night with some sleep, they were sure of it.

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

WIP Wednesday

So I've started working full time at my old job and I've been too busy to work on anything this week that isn't my secret project and a baby secret project (and by 'baby' I mean it's relatively short and it'll be posted on Friday so I don't want to spoil it lol), so this week's WIP is from chapter 1 of the big secret project!

--//--

Yunping Music Academy is far from prestigious — in fact it’s damn near non-functional and likely a year or two away from being shut down entirely — but Jin Guangyao knows that’s precisely why his latest assignment chose to dedicate the past couple of years of his career to it.

“Lan Xichen,” he calls in greeting when he enters the orchestra hall. Said latest assignment is currently nothing more than a pair of legs (a long pair of legs) sticking out from under a piano, and to Lan Xichen’s credit he barely twitches when his name is called so unexpectedly in the echoing space.

“I will be with you in just a moment!”

Jin Guangyao reckons he can spare a moment or two after he’d spent so much time ensuring he’d be difficult to follow, and so he makes himself at home behind what he presumes is Lan Xichen’s desk in the corner of the practice hall beneath a row of windows. He flicks up the corners of a few pages strewn across the desk out of curiosity but finds nothing more interesting than a few sheafs of sheet music of the sort that schoolchildren are capable of playing and a well-worn cloth bearing a few breadcrumbs from Lan Xichen’s lunch.

There’s a loud wood-against-metal thunk from beneath the piano and then Lan Xichen is shimmying out from beneath the instrument as genteelly as one can do so, a little dusty and rumpled around the edges but bright-eyed as he looks up at Jin Guangyao with polite suspicion.

“Pardon me, I was not anticipating company this evening,” he says as he gets to his feet and dusts himself off with a few firm pats at his trousers and shirtsleeves. “Though you do not look like any of my students’ parents.”

“Heaven forbid,” Jin Guangyao agrees with a dimpling smile. “I’m here for a different sort of business altogether; I’ll do us both a favor and get straight to the point.”

“You men who look important are always in such a rush,” Lan Xichen replies with a smile of his own that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Are you an important man?”

Jin Guangyao raises an eyebrow at the other and says, a bit too flippantly, “Well, I can get you over the Wall. Is that important enough for you?”

“Less important than you might think, Mr…?”

“Meng.” Jin Guangyao ignores the way his mother’s name — his own childhood name — wants to stick in the back of his throat. “In here, anyway.”

“Ah. Well, Mr Meng, I promise you I have no interest in getting into trouble, which is all that I believe our conversation is likely to bring. So if you’ll excuse me –”

“I came to have a friendly chat about your brother,” Jin Guangyao cuts in. “Certainly Lan Wangji is worth a bit of trouble, especially if I can promise to get you back out of it again, hm?”

Jin Guangyao settles a little more comfortably in Lan Xichen’s chair with a flash of satisfaction when, halfway through turning away from him, the man freezes save for a twitch of his fingers where his hand is resting on the lid of the piano.

“What about my brother?”

“Rumor has it that he’s decided to align himself with some…not-very-good men.”

“That does not sound very friendly, Mr Meng.”

Jin Guangyao actually smiles at that, a real one, startled out of him by the sly look Lan Xichen shoots him over his shoulder.

[avengers-accessorize-blog]

@correctionimswiss