#common grounds

Act I Spotify playlist

CHAPTER ONE - "round one"

CHAPTER TWO - "the anti-boyfriend"

CHAPTER THREE - "switch-up"

CHAPTER FOUR - "soundless echoes"

CHAPTER FIVE - "unknown planet"

CHAPTER SIX - "the masquerade"

CHAPTER SEVEN - "when it rains..."

CHAPTER EIGHT - "...it pours"

CHAPTER NINE - "baseline"

CHAPTER TEN - "a.f.l.d."

CHAPTER ELEVEN - "in the lining of your skin"

CHAPTER TWELVE - "visiting hours"

CHAPTER THIRTEEN - "last round"

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - "pre-game"

CHAPTER FIFTEEN - "all's fair"

Act II Spotify Playlist (coming soon)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN - "the second kind of lie"

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - "remote work"

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - "yet hanging in the stars"

CHAPTER NINETEEN - "ins and outages"

CHAPTER TWENTY - "where there's smoke..."

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - "...there's fire"

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - "devil-may-care"

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - “tbd”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - “tbd”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - “tbd”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - “tbd”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - “tbd”

Unknown Planet Dance Night Spotify Playlist

Qimir’s iPod Spotify Playlist (how did he get these songs on there)

A windy chill brought a shiver to your body, and you huddled further into your jacket as you walked across the campus field toward the parking lot. Your last class had just gotten out, and now you were going to head over to the library to study for a few hours before you went home. Winter was coming fast; it seemed like it had just been summer a few weeks ago.

You got into your green Honda and started it up, turning the heater on immediately. You had to remember to bring your heavier jacket tomorrow, and probably a pair of gloves.

On the way to the library, you kept to your routine and stopped by the coffee shop you always liked to grab a drink to keep awake while you studied. Common Grounds was a terrible name for a coffee place, but it wasn’t like you could ask them to change it just because you thought it was lame. You could already smell the heavenly scent before you even reached the door.

Once inside, you rubbed your hands together to warm them up and got in line.

The place was busier than normal for a Tuesday in the late afternoon. There might usually be a person or two ahead of you, but today you were at least sixth in line and you couldn’t even see the baristas behind the counter.

The person in front of you turned and smiled at you. You smiled back.

“Are you here to see him, too?” they asked.

You raised a brow. “See who?”

They scoffed and gestured vaguely in front of them. “The new barista. He’s pretty good; gets your order right, anyway, even if he is a bit freaky.”

By the person’s description, you imagined a tall, burly man with tattoos covering his gigantic, muscular arms, one of them probably being a heart with a banner that proclaimed the wearer’s love of his mother. In your mind, said burly man was wearing a black t-shirt under a leather vest with typical fringe and was sporting a thick, heavy beard.

After a few minutes, however, it became clear that your assumption had been very, very wrong.

He was tall, that was for sure, but everything else about your vision vanished in a puff of smoke.

The new barista was a skeleton monster, not a tattoo to speak of (that you could see, anyway) wearing a bright orange t-shirt under the typical apron the baristas wore. He was smiling as he spoke to the patrons in front of them, taking their order.

In all honesty, you were really excited to see that one of your favorite places had decided to show their support of monster kind by hiring one of them.

Monsters had been freed from the underground for several years now, and for the most part, their presence in town was pretty much accepted. Your college had been among the first businesses to hire monsters, eager to provide classes on how to interact with monsters, their history, etc. It was part of the reason that you’d chosen the college you had; you were eager to learn more about your new neighbors and how best to welcome them to life in the city.

Not everyone was as keen to welcome them, however, and to this day there were people who treated monsters as though they were lesser.

You realized something then, and narrowed your eyes at the back of the head of the person in front of you. They’d said the new barista was kind of freaky. How was being a monster freaky?

It was then that you realized that several people were watching him as he made coffee, but not in a typical way they’d watch someone with a particular skill. They were watching him like he was a performing monkey.

Your teeth ground together as you huffed out an annoyed breath. The poor guy had to have just started the day before, Sunday at the very earliest, and already he was being treated like this?

Another barista came out of the back and smiled at the skeleton.

“Stretch, why didn’t you say it got busy? I could’ve come help you.”

Stretch? Interesting name.

Stretch smiled as the other took her place in front of the cash register to help the next customer.

“you were on break, amy. i can handle myself for ten minutes.”

Amy smiled amicably and continued helping her customer.

“This is not what I ordered!” the older woman who had just taken her coffee from Stretch shouted.

Stretch took the cup back and glanced at it, a very slight orange tint appearing on his cheekbones.

“uh, sorry, ma’am. didn’t you want the caramel latte with two extra shots?”

She sputtered. “Well, yes, but that’s not what that is.”

“i’m sure that’s what i put in there. hey, let’s find a common ground here, and i’ll make you a new one, yeah?” he winked at her.

“Of course you’ll make me a new one, and this time give me what I asked for.” She straightened the front of her shirt and actually stuck her chin up before she said, “and I don’t want you flirting with me again.”

You had to physically stop yourself from snorting at the idea of anyone flirting with that woman.

But poor Stretch; you felt terrible for him as his cheekbones lit up with bright orange magic. He turned away with a nod, his shoulders hunched a bit as he tossed the wrong coffee and started a new one.

By the time he made it back to the register, it was your turn to place your order. You stepped up to the counter and smiled.

“welcome to common grounds, what can i get started for you?”

“I’ll warn you in advance, I’m kind of picky. Not like that other lady, but...yeah. Can I get a large latte, half vanilla and half hazelnut, one extra shot, and like a quarter cup of ice?”

“so, you want it cold?”

You shook your head. “No, I want it a regular hot latte, but just a little bit of ice. I know how weird it sounds, trust me. I can’t drink it if it’s too hot, but then I inevitably let it sit too long and it gets too cold. But with a little bit of ice, it’s perfect.”

Stretch shrugged his shoulders. “okie dokie.” He read your order back to you and asked if you wanted anything else. When you said that was all you needed, he gave you the total and you paid, then moved over to the other end of the counter to wait for the drink.

As you usually did, you turned around and rested your back against the counter, digging your phone out of your pocket to check your emails while you waited for your drink.

Faster than you had anticipated, Stretch called out your order, and you turned around to smile at him again.

“Thank you so much!”

He paused for a second, his sockets widening in surprise. For a minute, you thought you’d somehow done something bad, but then his smile returned twice as bright as before.

“you’re welcome. have a nice day, sir.”

“Call me y/n.” You held out a hand. “Sir is my grandpa.”

Stretch chuckled and introduced himself, stripping off his plastic gloves to shake your hand. His bones were cool and hard, an interesting sensation against your skin.

Someone clearing their throat made you both look over at Amy who was helping someone at the register. The line behind them was just as long as it had been when you’d come in.

You grimaced. “Good luck,” you said. “And don’t let the haters get to ya. You’re doing great.”

He snorted. “you haven’t even tasted that yet.”

Taking the challenge, you brought the cup to your lips and took a tentative sip. It was hot, but not scorchingly so, and you let the flavors roll over your tongue. Your eyes slipped shut; many baristas had made your drink for you over the years you’d been coming here, and for the most part they had learned how to do it right. You’d never tasted it done right on a barista’s first time. Stretch was now the exception.

“Perfect,” you said, opening your eyes. Stretch’s cheekbones were glowing again. “Like I said, you’re doing great.”