Archive of Our Own ^beta

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There wasn't much of a reaction to my rampage among the bar patrons. People would be like, "What happened to the tables and chairs?" "Steve got mad and busted 'em." "Oh, okay." Busting up stuff in a bar is apparently a thing that happens. Or at least, me busting up stuff in a bar.

I hadn't done so much gratuitously impactful redecorating in a long time. Never that much at once. Maybe a single chair at a time. A few individual occurrences of a fist through drywall. Only one set of knuckle prints in a fridge. And all that was long before Eorzea.

It shouldn't have happened this time. But Deputy Frank just ticked me off. He seemed bound and determined to get up in my business, and that included getting into my workshop. (Yeah, yeah, our workshop, but Tsu'na was taking it a lot less personally than I was, as far as I could tell.)

We practically rebuilt that rustbucket of a shed from the ground up. It was our project, our creation, and now Frank was telling us it's not our space. Not quite his, but as part of "inspecting the bar" he says he can go into it any time he wants.

So I guess I thought some of the tables and chairs in the Pit had his face on them.

Even though he had his face on him too, I managed to not punch it yesterday morning. He'd knocked on the workshop door just as I was finishing up a table, so when I opened the door I rolled it out right at him, making him dodge. I stopped, and we regarded each other.

"Mr. Hyurcat."

"Deputy."

"I'm here to inspect the shed."

"Understood."

We stood there a moment longer before he asked, "Would you mind getting that out of the way?"

I considered saying, Oh, no, this is where I'm installing it, sorry, but the resulting conversation might have made me reconsider my restraint, so I kept on rolling. "Close the door when you're done, please."

Sam watched me roll the first replacement table through the door. I could maybe have made replacements for all of the furniture the night before…I had the energy, certainly, but not the wood. So Tsu'na was out getting more wood while I was calmly and collectively building new furniture at less-than-superhuman speed.

Sam set a bottle of cider on the bar for me. I ambled over and climbed on a stool. "Thanks."

"Y'ain't a mean drunk, are ya? Still some tables that ain't smashed."

"I'll be good."

He nodded. "Ya know…I'm just gonna throw this out here…Maybe we can write up a lease?"

"Problems with ID," I muttered.

"Yeah, you said that. Ever gonna tell me what they are?"

Oh, it's simple. I'm effectively a clone of someone twice my age, so my unmarried name and my social security number and my fingerprints and my DNA and probably my retina pattern and all belong to him. Maybe my face too. Not sure what-all got changed in my cycle through Eorzea. So if anyone ever really checked me out they'd find I don't exist, or at least I shouldn't. "Probably not, sorry."

"I mean, it's just signin' a piece o' paper to wave in Frank's face. How much ID does that take?"

"Gotta file with the court house, don't we?"

"Only if there's a dispute. You plannin' on disputin' with me?"

I shrugged. "My father was a lawyer. He used to say a contract was for when, not if, things go wrong. Anyway, doesn't my identity need to be tied to this somehow? So when I do sue you for twenty million dollars they know it's me?"

"Signature?"

"Need something official to compare it to."

"Fingerprint?"

"Let's pretend that's not an option."

He studied me, but didn't quibble. "Photo?"

I thought about it. "Maybe. That gives me an idea. Back in a bit."

The library had a printer I could pay to use. I researched leases, did some editing, and printed out three copies. I took them back to the Pit.

Sam accepted a copy and started reading. "For an' in consideration of the sum of one dollar and other good an' valuable consideration, the undersigned party o' the first part, hereinafter referred to as 'Landlord'..." He went silent as he continued to read, then looked up at me. "You wrote this?"

"Bastardized something I found online."

"'Kay. So what're you doin' about ID?"

"Look at the last page."

I'd taken a selfie on my phone, transferred it to gphotos, and included it on the signature page of the lease as part of the page background. The signature lines went over the picture, so signing the lease meant signing the picture, which I think means acknowledging the picture as identity for the lease. I think. I Am Not A Lawyer.

"Huh. What about yer wife?"

"What about her?"

"You don't mention her in this."

"Uh…she's my wife. Community property?"

"Not in this state. 'Sides, ya got a marriage license to go with that ID you don't have?"

If I do, it's in Eorzean. Possibly even in Eorzea. "...Common law marriage?"

"Tell that to Frank."

I mumbled and grumbled and headed back to the library. Tsu'na was out in the woods, so I linkpearled her and asked her to send me a selfie. It came out nice and pastoral with the trees in the background.

When I got the new lease printed, she met Sam and me at May's grocery store, because apparently May was the town notary ("More hats than people in this town"). We all signed three copies ("One to file, one to keep and one to lose," as Dad used to say) and I handed Sam a dollar.

"So does this mean I can throw Frank out now?"

"Better to not let him in."

"Roger that."

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We will need more of everything. We have not been this depleted in a long time. Meat and vegetables and spices and flour. We never thought we would need all of that food all at once. Husband has called us "hoarders" sometimes, but hoarding is apparently a good thing.

Yesterday was a Wednesday at the diner. It is usually a quiet night, since people have work or school in the morning. Deputy Frank had come in for coffee, and for once seemed to have no interest in us. Some teenagers were at a table at the window.

Then the teenagers looked up at something. I followed their gaze and saw two buses pulling up in the parking lot. Buses do not stop at the diner; we need to walk out to Route 51 to get the bus to Tulsa. Yet there buses were.

A man came out of one bus and a woman came from the other. They met for a moment, talked briefly, and then guided what looked like teenagers from the buses. Many, many teenagers.

They all attempted to enter the diner, but there simply was not room. The adults with them tried to organize them into lines, with most coming to the counter while a few headed toward the bathrooms. The lines did not stay lined as some of the children tried to push around others.

They were loud and unruly, and it was hard to hear their orders. I told them the day menu was not available and pointed them to the blackboard listing our specialties, so they started calling out orders. There were so many of them that Husband and I abandoned cleaning to serve them all.

We went through our supply of beef pies, pork pies and even venison pies. Also the apple, cherry and blueberry pies, and quite a few soft pretzels with cheese dip. I stayed at the counter while Husband quickly shoved things into styrofoam boxes in the back. I could hear him muttering things about "locusts" and "anchovies."

When we ran low on already-made food, Husband transferred his inventory to me and started feverishly making more from what supplies he had. I needed to give him my fire shards so he could continue, and even then it almost was not enough.

The tide of teenagers finally receded from the diner, leaving a floor that needed to once again be mopped and a bathroom that once again needed cleaning. Deputy Frank went out and had words with the adults; I do not know what he said, but they seemed more subdued when he was done. He returned long enough to pay for his coffee and left without a word for us. The children at the table behaved as if nothing had happened.

Husband and I spent a moment simply holding each other in the kitchen. We were tired, not from the work, but from the sense of pressure of all the people. We agreed that fighting primals had been simpler…even though a primal was massive and powerful and dangerous, there was usually only one of them.

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I had told Tsu'na that the Ultima weapon demonstration in the Praetorium was like a nuclear explosion.  Not that I have personal experience of what a nuclear explosion is like.  I suppose now I can experience one and simply wake up at my home point.  But that's not something I particularly want to do.

So I was basing that statement on scale.  It was big.  It was very big.  It took out imperial airships.  It hollowed out the entire base.  Might not have been Hiroshima scale, but it didn't have to be, since it was being used on a more personal basis than that.  So maybe what they refer to in science fiction (and for all I know military briefings) as a "tactical nuke."  Which means a comparable nuke would be smaller than Fat Man or Little Boy.  Maybe beer-keg size.

It still wasn't fun to have happen right in front of me.

Hydaelyn's shield protected us for the most part, but it didn't completely spare us from the experience.  We weren't, for example, blinded by the flash, but it did fill our vision, getting bigger and brighter until it at least looked like we were inside the sun.  I couldn't see Gaius or his bigass mecha.  I couldn't see Tsu'na.  I doubt I could have seen my hand in front of my face.  I don't think I could see my eyelids when I closed my eyes.

Then there was the heat and the pressure.  I wasn't knocked off my feet because it was all around me, squeezing in on me, trying to crush me.  The shield kept it at bay, but it was still difficult to breathe.  My chest didn't want to expand.  My knees wanted to buckle from what felt like tremendous weight.  I think my eardrums threatened to rupture.

As the light and heat and pressure faded, I tried to catch my breath and choked on the air.  It smelled and tasted of metal…all the metal that Garleans love so much making up the base that was then hot vapor.  I yanked a bolt of linen from my inventory and covered my face with it, trying to filter a little bit of oxygen from the metallic atmosphere.

Then the ringing began.  My tortured ears were able to function, but they weren't happy about their job.  I healed so quickly in Eorzea that I hoped it would eventually go away.  But before that could happen I got to listen to Baelsar's voice blasting through his dinomecha's loudspeakers.  I'd already gotten tired of his helmet-filtered voice when he was raving about his justifications for conquest, and in his mecha it was ten times as loud and at least that much more annoying.  Especially with the ringing providing background.

It didn't matter that I had run Prae in the game back on Earth.  It didn't even matter that I had farmed Prae for poetics and mogtomes until I could hear Baelsar's damn speech in my sleep.  Nothing could have prepared me for the firsthand experience of the Ultima weapon going off from a few yards away.  Nothing that I'd've wanted to go through, anyway.  It was only later that I could appreciate Tsu'na going through it a second time just to support me.

When we got done in there, when the dust of battle had settled, and we, the strong, had dictated the fate of the weak (fuck you, Baelsar), and we had evacuated, Tsu'na found a quiet place we could go to hide.  A small room, a bare floor, a single lantern.  It was enough.  It was all I wanted, and she knew that from experience.  The speeches and the adulation could come later.  All I wanted was to not experience anything for a little while.

We didn't talk.  We didn't touch.  She covered the lantern a bit.  We sat in the dark.

Eventually my ears stopped ringing.

Chapter Text

Prize-fighting is out. Too cold for most of the pick-up leves Sam usually has for us. There are pigs out there we could cull, but farmers only think about wild pigs when there's crops for them to eat, even though rooting them out now would make their Spring planting go smoother.

So without any income coming in, except for the stuff we sell at the diner, all the money we have is all we're going to see for a while. But still, I'd made my magnificent miqo'te a promise and I intended to keep it.

So while she spent the day at the library, soaking in the warmth and the people and the books and the atmosphere, I headed into Tulsa and hit the Best Buy. I found a couple decent machines, a nicely supportive chair and a widescreen monitor. Had to get them one by one so I could carry them out one by one to stick in inventory in an alley, but still got them all in one bus ride.

I'd made a maple desk that could fit in our bedroom, and set it up when I got home. Hooked everything up, booted the machine for the first time, and bought, downloaded and installed a copy of FFXIV's latest edition, Endwalker. Then I messaged Tsu'na, asking her to come home and meet me in the bedroom.

She looked puzzled when she saw me just sitting on the bed, but then she noticed the workstation.

I got up and slipped my arms around her. "Merry Christmas, my love."

"I have heard about Christmas. What is it?"

"It's like the Starlight Celebration, but more religious."

"And it involves presents?"

"Among other things."

"I should study Christmas, then. A holiday that has my husband giving me things is something I approve of."

She said all this, leaning against me, her head resting on my chest, but her eyes hadn't left the computer since she'd entered the room.

"Will it play the game?"

"Already installed."

"And I suppose we will be taking turns?"

"Nope. Got one for myself too. I'll set it up in the living room and use it with the couch and TV."

"So we can play together."

"Yeah, though I'll probably buy story skips through Stormblood."

Her eyes finally lifted to mine. "How much of our money did all this take?"

"Nearly all of it."

She showed a small rueful smile. "It is good I do not need to take the bus to Tulsa to play, then."

"Another thing we can do together at home."

"Yes, there are other things we can do together here." She reached up to caress my cheek. "Perhaps after I try this new computer."

I grinned. "Gonna hold you to that. Have fun, my love."

I could tell it was an effort for her to not simply push me away and jump on the game. But she did pause long enough for a kiss.

I went to the living room and began setting up the other machine. In a sense this would be a present for the Hartmans too…least we can do is let our hosts use it to surf and watch videos.

I was connecting the HDMI cable when I noticed Tsu'na standing in the bedroom doorway. Her body radiated tension.

"Husband."

"Yes, my love?"

"Why are there three thousand people waiting to log in to the game?"

Chapter Text

After shattering four solid maple propellers I decided to try something new.  Looking at listings for propellers online, I see a lot of the wooden ones use "laminate," which means layers of wood glued together.  Plywood is laminate.  So is butcher's block.  I decided to try something halfway in between.

I have a recipe for plywood I'd used to make a panel for the window at Flying Tigers that was shot out in the drive-by.  Combining that with the recipe I'd managed for a propeller produced something that was a marked improvement on solid maple.  I could tell it had strength from the layering, and I hoped it would have flexibility too if needed.

I took it out of the workshop to the patiently-waiting engine mounted on the desk.  I got it onto the driveshaft and bolted it in place.  I once more started up the engine to see if the propeller would spin.

It didn't want to spin.  It wanted to writhe .  I mean, sure, the driveshaft rotated with it, but it bucked.  It wanted to shake the engine, but the engine was bolted to the desk and didn't go anywhere.  I killed the gas before something got shaken apart.

At least I still had a propeller, for all the good it did me.  I took it back to the workshop to review what I'd done wrong that time.

Tsu'na was sitting at the workbench, typing away at her laptop.  "I am trying to find a word, Husband.  Is there a word for an idea that changes one's way of thinking?"

"Uh…brainstorm?  Revelation?  Epiphany?"

"Spell that last one, please?"  I spelled.  She typed.  She read.  "Epiphany, yes, thank you.  I think I have an epiphany."

"What would that be?"

"You spent more than three thousand dollars for the ultralight engine.  Google says ultralight propellers are sixty dollars."

"That's not the point…"

"My epiphany is that it should be."

"But I'm trying to learn how to make one of these…"

"You bought a bicycle to learn how to make a bicycle.  Can you not buy a propeller?"

I looked at the propeller in my hands and sighed.  "We'll need to sell fifteen pies to cover it."

"We know how to make pies."

I set the propeller on the workbench and came around to wrap an arm around her shoulders.  "Clarity of vision, my love.  Thanks.  So show me what you found."

Chapter Text

Quick Prompt: Infatuation A little Valentione's flavored. 

Of the people who help me with my cage fighting training, Mark had been the one about whom I was most uncertain.  Ted knew about scripted fighting, Chester was most willing to try to spar with me, Scott understood the betting, and Tony (as much as he disliked us) knew actual martial arts.  But what Mark mostly did was watch.

Mark was a friend of Scott and Chester,  I thought that was why he came with them, but perhaps that was an excuse to see me.  Or to watch me.  He tried speaking with me a couple times, but ran out of things to say, and I did not have enough interest to help.

I have fans elsewhere.  At the bar where Husband and I bounce, Sam says the people there are my fans.  The people who watch me fight in the cage are fans.  Husband has said Mark is perhaps not as much a fan as a "fanboy," which google says is someone obsessed with something.

But he had kept to his watching until last night, after Husband and I sparred to try out a move Ted had described.  Husband is the only one whose strength matches mine, so we can put more sincere effort into fighting; working with Chester after that tells me how much weaker I must be in the cage to not hurt people.  So Mark and everyone else can see Husband hit or kick or throw me hard enough to actually slow me down.

When we took a break in our sparring, Mark approached me.  "Hey…you okay?"

"Yes.  I am just thirsty."

"You sure?  Steve was hitting you pretty hard there."

"That is what I need, yes.  I need to know what to feel to know how to look like I feel it."

"Yeah, but how can he do that to you?  He's your husband.  Does he always treat you like that?"

"When it is needed."

"That just seems wrong.  I could never do that to you.  I respect you too much."

I studied Mark. "You think my husband does not respect me?"

"Not if he's willing to hurt you like that.  He must not appreciate how special you are."

"And you do?"

"Of course.  You're beautiful, strong, capable…but I can tell there's more to you than that.  I can see that you need the right man to help you explore your sensitive side.  Someone who cares more about you than a guy who's okay with punching you."

I considered this, then turned.  "Husband."

Husband looked up from talking with Scott. "Yes, my love?"

"Mark says you do not understand or appreciate me."

Husband blinked.  He met my eyes for a moment, then turned to Mark.  "...Oh.  I didn't realize you knew."

Mark's brow furrowed.  "Knew what?"

"That I don't understand my wife.  She's a very complex woman with particular needs.  I try to keep up with them, but half the time I just don't feel like I know what I'm doing.  That's why I've been thinking about you."

"Me?"

"Yeah.  Someone who understands people.  Someone who knows how to care.  Someone I can communicate with."

"...Uh…"

Husband took a step toward Mark.  "I've been thinking about this for a while.  I think you're who I need.  I think we can be good for each other.  I didn't want to say anything before, but I'm so glad you understand."

Mark was frozen in place.

I truly hoped this was some of Husband's theatre. I tried to play along. "Husband," I said.  "Mark approached me."

Husband looked to me and back to Mark.  "No, that can't be right.  We're clearly compatible."

"Yet he said he appreciated me."

"But I need him!"

"I do not want to share."

Husband sighed and switched to Dark Knight.  "Well…guess we'll have to do the Solomon thing."

"What is the Solomon thing?"

"That's where we cut him in half and each take a piece."

"Oh.  That does sound fair."

"Top to bottom or left to right?"

"Top to bottom would be more even, I think."

"Agreed."  He drew his huge two-handed sword.  "Hold him steady?"

Mark stepped back.  "Wait… What? "

"We have to be fair about this," said Husband.

I approached Mark. "It is the only way."

Mark stared wide-eyed at each of us, then looked to the other men for support.  There did not seem to be any.  He turned and fled from the room.

After a moment, Chester started to clap his hands.  The other men joined in.  Husband switched back to Earth normal and took my hand, and we bowed together.

He drew me into his arms.  "Do we understand each other, my love?"

"I think we do, Husband."

Chapter Text

"Husband, did you say today was a festival?"

"Valentine's Day, yeah. It's like Valentione's Day but more commercial."

"Merchants sell things?"

"Flowers, chocolates, greeting cards, decorations. Yeah."

"Decorations? Like the hearts and flames in Gridania?"

"Very much so. Garlands and stickers and all."

"And this is the day you chose for us to raid that street gang in their lair?"

"Something we can do together, my love."

"Then shall we paint hearts and flowers on everything when we are done…?"

"...I don't know if that would be more Sailor Moon or Harley Quinn."

"Perhaps it is both?"

"Both is good."

Chapter Text

Earth restrictions annoy me sometimes.  I think they annoy Husband too.  There are so many things we could do if we did not need to worry about being seen doing them.  And I do not even know everything I need to worry about.

Our gathering is stealthful…no one has seen us doing it, or for whatever reason did not care.  Our crafting is strange for Earth, though, so it must be done inside the workshop with the door closed and no visitors.

The time I used Energy Siphon on the drive-by shooters in the car was effective, but Husband worried it would seem strange for people to have died with no wounds.  We were lucky, then, that the car crashed shortly after.  I do not know when I might ever throw lightning or a fireball; it would be a time when it was more important to act than to worry about acting.

So much worry.  So many restrictions.

I spent the morning in the workshop making plexiglass for the greenhouse.  I would have liked to work outside in the fresh air and sun rather than making the workshop smell like the corn oil I made the plastic from, but I knew I should not be seen.  I was glad to be done with restrictions when I finished the panels and decided to go to the diner for lunch.

I locked the door to the workshop and heard shouting coming from the front of the Pit.  When I walked around I saw what in teevee videos is called a "hostage situation."  Two men with guns were backing away from the Pit.  One of them was holding a woman with his gun pointed at her head.  They were moving toward a running car with a man inside.  I suppose it was the "getaway car."

Deputy Frank was in front of the Pit, his gun out and pointed at the men.  But he was not stopping them.  They had guns, they had a woman captive, and they were trying to leave, and he was going to let them.

I switched to Bard, drew my bow and aimed an arrow at the hostage holder.  He saw me and got angry, pointing his gun at me.  "What the fuck do…" was all he said before I shot an arrow into his eye.

The other man started shooting at me, but he was frightened or a bad shot or both, as he did not hit me before I shot into his eye as well.

The car suddenly made a loud noise and started to pull away.  I switched to Dragoon, drew my lance, ran a couple steps and performed Spineshatter Dive, leaping into the air and driving the lance through the front of the car.  The car made a choking noise and stopped suddenly; I lost my footing on the car and needed to hold tightly to the lance.

I got my feet on the car again and yanked the lance free.  The driver was still sitting in the car, staring at me.  I swept the head of the lance through the front window and pointed it at his face.  " Get out of the car!  Now! "

He got out.  I jumped down from the car, threw him onto the ground and got out some zipties.  I had his wrists and ankles bound by the time Deputy Frank came around the car with his gun ready.

I stood up and looked at him.  "Do you think you can handle it now?"  Then I shifted to Earth-normal and walked into the Pit.

I was angry.  Fray would have approved.

I sat at the bar.  I needed to steady myself against the bar as I worked to lessen my anger.  I tried to keep my voice quiet as I said, "Cider, please."

Sam asked, "You okay?"

" I just had to kill two men and a car because your Deputy Frank is as worthless as a bag of eft shite! "

"...What's an eft?"

"It is a thing that makes shite!  Cider!  Please!"

Later, when Husband was rubbing my shoulders and trying to get me to relax, he said, "You could have just acorn-bombed them…"

"You told me hyur do not use magic in this world."

"I did say that, didn't I?"  He massaged silently for a bit, then said, "New project for the list.  Sleep bomb."

It was a good idea.  But I will need a substitute for morbol vine.  Or perhaps a morbol.

Chapter Text

I started work today.  I was given a badge on a string that I was told to wear when not at my desk.  The badge also opens doors and makes the elevator work.

While I was led to my office I saw many people working in boxes.  I thought since I was new I would be working in a box as well, but instead I was shown to a room and told it was to be mine.  It had a desk with a computer near a window, a set of shelves near the desk, and a table with chairs in front of the desk.

"This is all for me?"

Burton smiled. "You'll be resolving disputes.  It's better to do that in private, so people can feel free to say what they want.  Plus it keeps the yelling contained."

"Yelling?"

"It happens."

Darryl from "IT" came to show me how to log in to my computer and to use "Office."  Melissa from HR showed me my "Calendar" and my "ticket list," and how to look for information about people, which I should do before dealing with the ones mentioned in a ticket.

I spent much of the morning looking at email and watching training videos and exploring the system to find out what I could do.  Melissa came to say she was going to a nearby restaurant for lunch, but I decided to stay and eat in my room for the first day.  I was content with a braised pork pie, but perhaps I should see what the neighborhood has to offer.

Burton came to my room after lunchtime. "So, had a chance to get settled in?"

"I think so."

"Good.  Ready to handle your first ticket?"

This surprised me.  "So soon?"

"Best to jump right in.  And I'm eager to see how you go about it, so I'll be sitting in on this one.  It's the Hoffler-Daniels one.  Why don't we say two o'clock?  That'll give you some time to prepare."

I found the ticket and read through the complaint.  Bob Hoffler and Cassie Daniels had been having arguments, apparently about a relationship between them.  They had been loud and disruptive.  I looked at the information about each of them.  I did not yet know what I would do about it except hear what they had to say.

At two o'clock, I moved from my desk to the table.  There was a knock at the door and Burton showed Bob and Cassie in.  They looked uncomfortable having Burton there, but they could not ask the owner of the company to leave.  They sat across from each other at the table and Burton sat across from me.

I needed to try to remain calm.  I was not slaying my first beastkin; I was solving my first people problem.  "Mr. Hoffler, Ms. Daniels.  Do you both understand why you are here?"

Neither of them spoke at first.  Neither of them looked at the other, or at me.  Finally Cassie said, "I'm here because he won't leave me alone."

"You never told me to," Bob muttered.

"It should have been obvious!  Can't you take a hint?"

"What, like all the other hints you gave me?  Sashaying up to my desk, giving me those smiles, leaning in like that?  What was I supposed to think?"

"You're supposed to think when I'm not talking to you I don't want you talking to me!"

They both started talking at once, louder, faster, louder still.  Burton had been right about the yelling.

Perhaps there were words I could have used.  I did not have them.  What I had was growing anger, and a desire to simply hand them weapons and lead them to an arena.  I knew it was my job to solve problems, but this did not feel like my problem.

Husband and I both understand that there are things most easily said without words.  It is why he once ruined a lot of furniture in the Pit.  It is why I sometimes destroy striking dummies outside the workshop.  It is why I stood up as the two argued, raised my fist and drove it through the table, splitting it in two.

All three of them, including Burton, stood up quickly and got away from the collapsing table.  They were all very quiet.  I kept my eyes on the table as I found words.

"Mr. Hoffler.  The company files show a number of complaints against you by women who say you talk to them even after they have said they do not want you to.  You should perhaps study the meaning of the word 'No'."

Cassie started to laugh.  I did not look at her.  "Ms. Daniels.  The company files show a number of complaints by you against men who mostly answered with things like, ' She approached me! '  You should perhaps stop using HR to end your relationships for you."

Cassie fell silent.

"This company does advertising.  This company pays people to come and do advertising.  It does not pay people to do relationships.  If you cannot do relationships and advertising both, doing relationships must end.  Is this clear?"

They both started talking at once.

" Is this clear??? "

After a moment they both answered, "Yes, ma'am."

"Good.  Please leave now."

I did not look up as they left.  I did not look up as the door closed.  I did not look at Burton.  "I am sorry.  I will replace the table."

"Hey, it's fine, I'll have Maintenance bring up another…"

"I make furniture.  I can replace the table."

"...Great!  Be sure to invoice us for the materials, then.  Melissa can show you how."

"I…did not handle that well."

"What, are you kidding?  That was the most efficient resolution I've seen in a long time, and it's one they'll probably remember.  I wish we'd had you in here years ago!"

I looked up at him.  He was smiling.  He seemed sincere.  Though he also does advertising, so perhaps he is good at seeming sincere.

"Thank you."

"Sure.  Why don't you close out this ticket and review materials for the rest of the day?  You can do the next one tomorrow."

He left.  People from Maintenance came by later to remove the broken table.

I wonder if Husband will laugh about this.  I wonder how long he will.

Chapter Text

"word for finding courage": "steel oneself", "pull oneself together", "psych yourself up", "grow a pair of balls"

"word for not showing fear": "bravado", "stoic", "unfazed", "stiff upper lip"

"bravado": "a bold manner or a show of boldness intended to impress or intimidate"

"stoic": "being calm and almost without any emotion"

Husband has spoken of being "scared shitless" when thinking about our place in this world. He does not usually show it. I do not think this is "bravado," at least not with me, though bravado might describe what he showed to Dewey Brower and his friends. "Stoic" does not seem to fit, as I can tell he feels things, about me and about his projects and about people we meet. Particularly about me.

Yet he does have a way of showing when he needs to "steel himself" to do something, when he is about to do something that for him is bold and perhaps reckless. I have observed this pattern. He has not done it often, or perhaps I have not noticed him doing it. Perhaps he is not aware that he is doing it. It is a long, slow inward breath, followed by a shorter and slightly shaky outward breath. He will do this before the bold and perhaps reckless thing, and then will do that thing.

I only observed it three times in Eorzea. The first was when he had gotten his first gladiator quest and was going to for the first time swing a sword to kill something. He had told me he was going to do this; I was certain he would be all right, as every gladiator does it. I had done it myself, and the similar quest for every combat class I learned. Still, while the creatures he needed to fight were mostly harmless, it was perhaps possible for them to hurt or kill someone who simply could not use a weapon. And he had not used one before.

So we went together out the Gate of Nald and looked over the creatures there: marmots, hornets and shrews. He studied the marmots. He took his breath. He let it out. Then he raised his sword and advanced. He did not die. He might have died had he attacked the nearby giant tortoise, but he was not that bold or reckless, at least that time.

The second time came after, and not before, the first time he died. We had been fighting in what he called a Fate in La Noscea, an instance of monsters appearing that need to be killed. The same energies that bring the monsters to places also seem to make people in the area weaker, so that what would be a group of easily-defeated monsters instead become a challenge to those who approach. There are rewards and prestige for dealing with the monsters, so it is a typical adventuring task.

Sometimes, though, two Fates happen at once in the same area. That was what happened to us, that while we were fighting one set of monsters another set appeared, so that we had twice as many foes. A normal response to this is to run out of the area and regain one's strength, then reconsider the matter. But Husband did not yet have my experience and instincts, or perhaps he was simply too focused on the creatures he was fighting to notice the new threat.

I could have healed him from a distance, but I failed to see he was not following me, and after that he went down fairly quickly. I saw the terror on his face as he was struck again and again. The monsters lost interest in him once he fell. I saw his body disappear.

Since we were in a party I could find him on my journal map. He was at Ul'dah, likely his first home point. I teleported there and found him in the aetheryte plaza, sitting on the ground with his back to the stone, staring silently ahead of him. I joined him. I remembered my first time dying, and understood…being told Hydaelyn's gift keeps us from returning to the aetherial sea is not the same as experiencing coming back from death.

We sat together there for a while, then he seemed to come to his senses. He said there was a place he wanted to go.

We took the airship to Gridania. We hired chocobos to take us to Fallgourd Float in the North Shroud. Since he did not yet have a company chocobo, and I did not have a mount that could carry two people, we walked west from there.

It was a long walk, past the slugs on the road, past the zu (or is it zus?), into the increasingly cold land of Coerthas, until we came to the Ishgardian Observatorium, the very tall tower Ishgard used to look to the stars for answers and to the skies for dragons. Husband had not been there before, yet he knew the way.

We climbed the many, many stairs to the top. We went out onto the roof. Husband shivered a bit in the cold air. He stepped to the edge and ran his gaze over the sky. I approached him, wondering why he had needed to come to that rooftop. I heard him take a long breath in, then let a shorter breath out.

Then he stepped off the roof.

We have what I think of as an instinct, or perhaps a part of the Echo, that tells us not to jump from certain heights. We simply do not do it. Which means any height that we can jump from is one that will not kill us. I had jumped from high places in the past, or sometimes fallen from them, and not died. But I did not do it for fun, and I did not understand why Husband did it then. I could only watch him fall, and reach the bottom in an explosion of snow.

I could see from his status in our party that he was still alive, though badly hurt. I could have flown Boreas down to him, or walked down the stairs, or Returned and left him to his foolishness. Yet somehow at the time I suddenly felt I had something to prove. And it was the fastest way down.

I landed next to him, not as hurt. He looked at me, and then he started to laugh. When it appeared he would not stop laughing soon, I went inside to sit and warm up.

We jumped from many different places after that. The cliffs of western Coerthas, the platforms of Zenith in the Churning Mists, the Peering Stones in The Fringes, the observatory in Lakeland, and others. Husband pointed out that it seemed as if each area had a particularly high point to jump from, "almost as if by design".

I did not seek these points out as eagerly as Husband, but I did follow him off of them, at least once at each point. There was, I must admit, something very unique about the feeling of falling, of watching things go swiftly by, of having the wind tear at my clothing, of feeling my stomach act strange. The pain at the bottom would go away and the memory of the fall would remain. He seemed amused and enthused by each new fall, though the long and short breath did not occur again; he simply flung himself off.

The third time it did occur was when we were fishing. We were at Cape Westwind in Western Thanalan, sitting on a cliff facing westward over the ocean. We had been trying to catch a fish known as a Titanic Sawfish, to satisfy a request by Wawalago in Limsa. It was not going well. The fish is difficult to catch, and, without great skill, is only found in the morning. We had spent an entire day trying, and at that point simply sat at night, watching the moon come up over the horizon. The reflection of the moon was a long path pointing to us. The stars were rather clear. It was a rare peaceful moment in our lives.

I heard the long breath and the short breath. I wondered what bold and perhaps reckless thing he was planning to do.

Then his hand rested on mine.

I withdrew my hand. Before he could say anything I moved myself closer to him. Then I placed my hand on his.

Within a few days we were sharing an inn room. Within a few moons we were wed.

That was the last time I observed him "steeling himself" for something in Eorzea. He did bold things, he did reckless things, but he did them more naturally, without having to "psych himself up" for them.

Last night I observed it for a fourth time at The Pit. I was bouncing. He was sitting at the bar, sipping a cider. I heard the long breath and the short breath, and wondered what bold and perhaps reckless thing he thought to do in a bar in Earth.

He studied the bottle in his hands, then looked up. "Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I borrow your truck some time? I'd like to teach my wife how to drive."

Chapter Text

I'm still thinking in terms of Mage: the Ascension.  Maybe it's silly, because that's a game and this is my life, but it's just such a convenient (and conveniently comprehensive) metaphor.  And it keeps fitting our situation in new ways.  Though I suppose that might be one of those double-edged things, like, "The more you look, the more you find."  Or, as was attributed to Malaclypse the Lesser: "The order is in the grid."

And maybe Mage was structured to do that, to be vague enough that it could be applied to anything.  Maybe that's why White Wolf tried to replace it with Mage 2nd edition. (There is no Mage 2nd edition.  It is an abomination.  It should not have been brought into this world.  Every copy should be tracked down, put in a pile and burned, possibly with its authors on top.  Ahem.) I know there were LARP organizers that hated running it, maybe because it was so general and open to rules-lawyering.

I always thought it made perfect sense.

The idea was that magic was the manipulation of reality from the outside, and that everyone had the capacity to do so, if they could awaken that part of their soul/self that could see that far…see the knots that hold the tapestry together, and untie/retie them.  So people who could do magic were the Awakened, and those who couldn't (presumably "yet") were the Sleepers.

But reality was largely held together by people.  People would have an idea of what was and wasn't possible, and attempts to change reality had to go up against that.  Thanks to the printing press and the establishing of schools and colleges and eventually the internet, it's possible for much of the eight billion people in the world to think reality is such-and-such, and one guy attempting to make changes would have a hard time.

Particular failures at attempts might result in what was called "paradox," in which reality backlashed at the practitioner.  There were various ways around this.  Doing your magic all by yourself in an environment you totally control might allow you to do most anything, especially if you didn't then show it to anyone.  Doing magic in a way that made it look natural, technological or otherwise realistic is called "coincidental" magic, and can avoid paradox as long as no one looked behind the curtain.

Doing things with groups could work: convince enough people in a limited area that something was possible, and it became more possible in that localized reality field.  Examples include cult rituals in basements, faith healing in tents, and "advanced technology projects" in private laboratories.

Then there are Marauders.

This has nothing to do with the axe-wielding combat class taught in Limsa.  Marauders in Mage are people who everyone else would consider delusional…people who are 100% immersed in their idea of reality.  Around such people, reality can change.  They don't even think in terms of doing the impossible…they are simply doing this completely natural thing, whatever it is.  They may think it's completely natural to, oh, say, summon a snow-dripping horse to ride.  Or pull a full set of combat gear out of nowhere to wear.  Or dig metal out of the ground without leaving a hole.  And therefore, because they have absolutely no doubt in their mind it can happen, it does.  For them.

I think Tsu'na is a Marauder.

I think she comes from Eorzea, with Eorzea skills, and knows she has them, and knows they're real, and therefore they work for her.  They might not work for anyone else, but they work for her.  People might think her delusional to think that way (like the mothers in the library listening to her tell stories), but it's all absolutely true for her.

At least so far.  She's starting to have doubts because of what she's found online and what other people seem to think is "weird."  I try to reinforce her "delusion," find ways for her to continue believing that Eorzean skills can work here.  Because I want them to.

Because even though I remember being in Eorzea with her, even though I know my Eorzean skills work here, I have more doubt than she does, since I'm from Earth and I'm not aware of those skills working on Earth.  So I'm not a Marauder, much as I would like to be.  Or perhaps I become a little more of one each time she reinforces my belief.

But what I think I am instead is something called a Son of Ether (no relation to aether…unless of course I say there is).  Awakened in Mage tended to fall into groups depending on the flavor of magic they did.  There were wiccan-type Awakened, shaman-type Awakened, taoist-mystic-type Awakened, religious Awakened, death-and-entropy-oriented Awakened (those guys were weird ) and so on.

Sons of Ether (arguably Children of Ether) were the mad scientist types.  They believed the impossible became possible if you could define/find/prove the scientific principle behind it, even if that involved making it up.  Victor Frankenstein would have been an Etherist.  So would Dr.  Jeckyll.  Maybe Dr. Moreau.  Probably Dr. Horrible.

And me.  Specializing in my own Aetheric Theory, defining how aether works on Earth and how we're working with it.  Maybe blended in with how Mage defines everything.

So I come up with rules and observations and principles to reinforce Tsu'na's belief system, and she continues to demonstrate Eorzean skills to reinforce mine.  And together we maintain a bubble of Eorzean reality.

And maybe we're both delusional.  After all, we don't know beyond a shadow of a doubt that we're even from Eorzea.  But, to quote Muldur, "I want to believe."  And Tsu'na wants to know.

Chapter Text

A side story done as part of a community writing challenge. Spoiler alert: it deals with material in what I consider "book 4".

I look in the mirror and I see a miqo'te.

Big brown eyes.  Slightly pursed lips.  Honey-blonde hair.  Long furry ears.

I turn to the side and try to look over my shoulder to get a full view of the tail, which is the same color as the hair.  In the process I can't help but notice the breasts.

It's a face and a body I've seen almost every day over the past few years.  Just never from inside.

This is what I get for agreeing to couples therapy at a magical university.

I didn't think we actually needed it.  We're warriors and creators and explorers.  I'm used to the idea that there's nothing we can't overcome together.  Nothing over the horizon that we can't march ahead together and see.

But the problem wasn't us together.  It was us apart.  While I was having the time of my life here, getting some of my questions answered, exposing myself to new concepts and challenging myself in wholly new ways, Tsu'na was running into obstacles on her own.  New difficulties and even prejudices she hadn't encountered before.

I tried to understand.  I tried to sympathize.  I tried to support.  I was ready to rise in righteous indignation and hew a path through everything for her.  But that wasn't what she wanted.  She's just as capable as I am when it comes to both brains and brute force.  What she wanted was for me to know.  And apparently that was something I couldn't do from my position.

She mentioned this to a friend she'd met while auditing a class, and the friend had told her about the university counselors and how maybe a third party could help with communication.  So I went to a counselor with her, not knowing if it would really help but wanting to make an effort for her, and a woman old enough to be Original Me's daughter told us that old saying about how, to truly understand someone, one needed to walk a mile in their shoes.

The feet.  I look down at the feet.  I knew they were smaller than mine, but I didn't expect them to feel that way.

Once she explained the procedure, and we talked it out and agreed, she called up a specialist to perform a ritual that moved our consciousnesses between our bodies.  It took us a while after that to just learn to move…our balance was totally off, and we weren't used to the height differences.  But we got to where we could walk across the room and sit down without looking stupid.

She gave us a box with two buttons.  The effect is somehow tied to the box, so that any time we push the buttons (one button each) it'll collapse and we'll be back in our original bodies.  We can't do it alone; we have to do it together.  Which, on reflection, is pretty damn scary.  I'm surprised anyone goes along with it.  Maybe it doubles as one of those trust exercises.

So we took our box and each other and went back to our apartment.  We spent the evening just getting used to the situation, to each other, to the new dynamic of the two of us together.  I never appreciated how strong her neck must be just from looking up at me all the time.  She only bumped her/my head once on a cabinet.  I managed to not shut my/her tail in a door.

It was a little reminiscent of our first days on Earth, when I had to coach Tsu'na on how to use a body that had a fully functional digestive tract.  This time, however, we were coaching each other.  We each knew in principle how the other did things, but there was still an issue of "look and feel."  In that regard, the shower was entertainingly exploratory.

But the real issues, the ones that prompted this exercise in the first place, would come during the day.  While my schedule included a lecture on transplanar cosmology and a roundtable-type class on spatial manipulation, she had a materials conjuring class.  So far none of the classes we attended were official; we were effectively "guest fellows," as opposed to our actual status, which was closer to "refugees."

We figured materials conjuring would be useful, if it meant we could make stuff at home rather than needing to travel all over the place to harvest it.  We got a copy of the textbook the class used and practically took it apart, studying and practicing and experimenting and improvising and coming up with our own ways of doing things.  What they were teaching in class wasn't enough for industrial quantities of things we needed, like buttloads of steel, but it was fine for small amounts of metals to use in accessories.

Which meant Tsu'na didn't absolutely need to attend the class.  But she thought maybe the instructor had some practical wisdom to share that wasn't in the books, that she'd pick up if she was there long enough. (So far the signal-to-noise ratio has been low.) Plus, she wanted the classroom experience -- she had never done the Sharlayan university thing that half the Scions talked about and wanted to fill in the blank.

So she told me the building and room number, and I headed off in the late morning.  And immediately saw the difference in our experiences.  From apartment hallway to apartment lobby to campus quad to building hallway to classroom, I got looks that I never got as me.  Some were curious.  Some were pointed, almost indignant.  Some were otaku-grade fascination.  I tried the same casual smile and nod I normally gave to people and got mixed results, ranging all the way from embarrassed scurrying away to hostile glares.  Halfway there I simply stopped making eye contact.

I got more of the same once I got to the classroom, though scattered about the room.  The people sitting near me talked to each other and specifically not to me.  I tried to ignore them as effectively as they were ignoring me.  I pulled out my laptop and looked up information on the class I was missing.

Spatial manipulation is important in a lot of ways.  It may be how our inventories work, unless they're pocket dimensions.  I was only beginning to get a handle on the difference between the two.  It was engrossing enough that I didn't pay a lot of attention when the lecture began.  I came up for air long enough to pick up a word or two, but it wasn't anything Tsu'na and I hadn't already gotten from the text.

It took a nudge from a neighbor to realize the teacher was practically shouting at me.  It didn't help that he was doing it wrong.

"Miss Catgirl!"

In all fairness, I didn't remember his name either, and he had more names to keep track of than just mine.  But still.  "Are you addressing me?  I am Mrs. Hyurcat."

"When I gave permission for you to be in my class, I assumed you would appreciate it and make an effort!  Other students here don't have the luxury of being my guest!"

I gathered he was being pissy about the laptop.  I didn't look to see if anyone else had theirs out.  "I am familiar with the material you are covering today."

"Really?  You know it so well you don't need to pay attention?  Well, by all means, show us your knowledge!  Come down here and synthesize some copper for us!  Show us how it's done!"

I wondered whether the catgirl part or the guest part irked him more.  Not that we could make a particular difference in either one.  I stowed the laptop, came down the aisle, climbed the steps of the platform and approached the table near the lectern.

There was a large pad of paper, a bottle of ink, a calligraphy brush and a compass on the table, along with the candles.  The compass was for drawing circles on the paper.  I studied the supplies a moment, then looked up at the teacher.  "May I use my own materials?"

His lips twisted.  "Suit yourself."

I took out Tsu'na's box of conjuring supplies from her inventory and set it on the table, then I fetched out the stone sheet we'd devised.  It had three concentric circles engraved into the surface, colored with ink.

The teacher peered at the sheet.  "Why three circles?"

"My w…husband and I use them to organize categories of glyphs for easy re-use.  We draw energy glyphs in the outer ring, glyphs common to types of materials in the next ring in, and material-specific glyphs in the center.  That way, if we want, say, different kinds of metal, we need only change the center."

"Different kinds of metal?  You conjure that much metal?"

"Yes.  We make jewelry and other things."

"And you paint ink on the stone?  Seems like a lot of work, scrubbing it clean every time."

"That is not a problem for us."  I reached into the box and drew out a marker.

He scowled.  "What do you think you're doing?  You can't conjure with a sharpie!"

"This is a fillable pen we got from an art store.  We fill it with our conjuring ink."

"Which you then have to scrub off the stone!"

"We made our own formula.  This is dry-erase conjuring ink."

He snorted.  "Nonsense!  You can't just mess with the ink like that!"

I looked up at him.  "Then perhaps you will see me fail."

That was a sharper tone than Tsu'na usually uses, but the guy was really getting under my skin.  I actually felt my pulse pounding.  I always thought my anger issues were glandular, that I had an anger gland that didn't seal very well, but maybe it was mental after all.  Or the teacher was just that much of a dick.

It shut him up, at least.  He folded his arms and stood there, glaring at me, as I got to work with the pen.

Copper was something we'd practiced with so much that I didn't even need to look up the glyphs.  I wrote everything onto the stone, feeling not only the teacher's eyes on me, but the students' as well.  Everyone in the room was waiting for me to screw up.

I switched to Black Mage.  I should probably have cycled through Tsu'na's gearsets before leaving home, just to know what to expect, because rather than my caster gear that was glamoured to a black tux, I found myself in Tsu'na's Ishgardian-style floor-length black dress.  But I didn't have a lighter for the candles, and I wasn't about to borrow the asshat instructor's, so Thaumaturgy for the win.

There were snickers when I changed outfits.  Those died off when I channeled the smallest bit of aether and lit the candles with a wave of my hand.  I touched Tsu'na's wand to the appropriate energy glyphs, focused to activate the construct, and saw the copper ingot appear in the center in a burst of released heat.

I picked it up and extended it to the teacher.  He took it reluctantly, inspected it and finally nodded.  "That will do.  You may return to your seat."  No acknowledgement of my methodology.  No admission of my accomplishment.  And giving me permission to do what he said when Tsu'na was only auditing the class to begin with.  He didn't even return the damn ingot.

I collected the box of supplies and the stone sheet and maintained control as I made my way up the aisle.  I didn't huff.  I didn't stomp.  I didn't punch his godfersaken face in.

I didn't even pretend to pay attention after that.  I played games on my phone.  If he had any useful insights to contribute on the subject of materials conjuration, I didn't hear them.

When the class ended, I stalked out of the room.  No one got in my way.  I was in the hallway before I heard someone behind me.  "Hey, Tsu'na, wait up!"

It was Tsu'na's friend, Anna, the one that told her about the counseling.  "What's the rush?  Don't you want to get lunch?"

I didn't know they were that sort of close.  The day was turning out to be so educational.  "I want to go home and relax.  I am…" I tried to maintain my wife's measured tones.  "...not happy."

"For real.  Today he was a real…"

"Asshat?"

She giggled. "Yeah.  So…what was that you did with the fire?  Was that a miqo'te thing?"

I reminded myself that ignorance isn't necessarily stupidity. "Miqo'te are not magical creatures.  That was elemental magic.  Have you not studied that yet?"

"I think it's next semester.  Did you really make a dry-erase spell marker?"

"It is what makes the stone practical.  Perhaps we can talk about this…another day."

"Oh, yeah, sure.  Try not to punch your husband."

I couldn't help but smile. "That is what he is for."

I didn't think about the dress until I was at the apartment door.  There had been some funny looks on the way…it does look a little Salemesque, maybe.  But hey, it's for throwing fireballs, after all.

Tsu'na was sitting on the couch when I got home, dressed in my typical casual clothes, tablet in hand.  She raised an eyebrow when she saw me in the dress, then the other when she got a good look at my face.  "Have you been throwing fireballs, Husband?"

"Just had to light some candles."  I wandered over to the couch and looked down at her.  Our eyes met in a thoughtful silence.  I decided to do what she felt so comfortable doing on occasion and sat in her lap.  My lap.  Whatever.  Had to try three times before I wasn't sitting on my/her tail.

I rested my head against her/my shoulder.  It really was pretty comfortable.  I felt her/my arm drape around my/her shoulders.   "How was your day, my love?" I asked.

"I think it was tense.  I did not always know what to say.  How do you do that?"

"I make it up.  Comes with practice."

"Your ears are not very good."

My/her ear was hearing her/my heartbeat.  It added to the comfort.  No wonder she sat like that so often. I let myself relax.  "Did you have trouble hearing?"

"I was not as distracted as I sometimes am.  But I did hear some of them talking about you.  They thought you were not as annoying as usual."

I smiled. "Also comes with practice."

"Did someone annoy you today, Husband?"

I told her about the materials class.

"Did you punch him?"

"No."

"I would not have minded."

"Yes you would.  He'd've demanded I keep my pet on a leash, or something like that."  I looked up at her/my face.  "Maybe you should punch him.  Righteously indignant husband and all."

"He would not survive either of us punching him."

"And?"

She smiled and rested a hand on my/her cheek.  "Thank you for showing restraint, Husband."

"I had no idea you put up with that crap every day."

"I know.  I needed you to understand that without me feeling like I was…"

"Whining?"

"Do you think I whine?"

"You never have.  That's just it…you're so good at being strong, I guess I don't think of something like social dynamics getting you down.  You've been hinting at it, but I certainly wouldn't call it whining now.  So…mission accomplished?"

"I suppose.  Does that mean you want to push the button now?"

We looked across the room where the box sat on the dining table.  I nestled against her/my chest.  She toyed with my/her ear.

"Tomorrow morning?"

"Tomorrow morning."