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randomwriteronline · 1 year

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"Warden Melli!"

If Melli could have pretended not to have heard that, he could have just turned around and started walking extremely fast away from the Sitrus tree he had been harvesting berries from; but since it was absolutely impossible for anybody with mostly undamaged hearing to miss that shout, he groaned loudly and faced his Pearl counterpart as he clumsily slid down a small slope to come meet him.

"What is it now?" he whined snappily, glaring at the man through his narrowed eyes so venomously he could have overwhelmed anybody's blood with toxins.

Unfortunately, Warden Ingo had proved multiple times to be immune to poison.

So he stared right into the younger warden's pupils, not at all put off by the hostile look lodging itself into his haunted face nor seemingly recognizing the antagonistic tone: "I was hoping to speak with you," he answered candidly.

"Then be quick," Melli hissed as he yanked another berry from the tree: "I don't have time to waste with the likes of you."

"Oh, of course! I would not want you to run into delays on your schedule because of me - I will be very quick, I promise," Ingo reassured him. Before his Diamond counterpart could roll his eyes and scoff, he kept true to his word and got straight to the point: "I only wished to compliment you on your handling of Lord Electrode!"

Melli’s hand stopped halfway to the mostly full basket. He creased his brow, blinked, gripped the Sitrus in his hand a little tighter, and turned properly to the older man with a grimace stuck between confusion and distrust.

“What would that mean?” he asked.

Ingo adjusted his hat by th visor, a motion that would have conveyed his slight embarassment better if he had managed to wipe that frown off of himself: “Ah, I apologize, I recognize that was excessively vague - you see, I was warned before transfering here to look after Sneasler that Electrode was an extremely capricious Pokémon, capable of shaking the mountain to its foundations with detonations of great magnitude at the slightest hint of displeasure. “

The younger man curled his nose like a disgruntled Stunky and twisted his lip. Sure, the Lord of the Hollow was moody and powerful, but that was no way to talk about him.

“But despite having lived here nearly a year now, I’ve yet to experience anything even slightly close to such behaviour!” the other continued, speech suddenly turning emphatic: “In fact - and I hope you’ll forgive me for making assumptions based on my approximate knowledge on the matter - from what little I’ve seen of him on occasion, Electrode had always struck me as being mostly perfectly content and at ease! I can only attribute such a positive state to you working hard in order to make sure his every need is met! I would expect no less from a warden, of course, let alone one as fond of this Lord as you are, but the consistency with which you do so is quite remarkable - especially considering the challenges posed by his irritable tendencies!”

Almost in the same way one wakes from an unplanned nap, Ingo realized very suddenly that he had shifted his bright eyes to beam directly into Melli’s as he had spoken, volume of voice rising steadily, and that the other warden seemed now to make himself small in front of all this intensity, as if he were attempting to retreat in his own shoulders.

The foreigner quickly looked down to his own feet in mortification, pulling his hat lower upon his face to better relieve him of all that exhausting eye contact.

“Please forgive me, I... I got quite carried away for a moment. I only - I fear I was overzealous with my explanation, I did not mean to come onto you so strongly,” he mumbled, sheepish.

In the small bout of silence that followed he managed to mentally file a complete and exceptionally thorough formal complaint against himself for disturbance of the peace and catastrophic failure at what was supposed to be a simple interaction meant to form a positive connection with another human being - both equally unforgivable crimes that would have had to be rectified by either an entire day spent wallowing in mortification or a death sentence, the latter of which he would have very gladly accepted as his fate.

“Thank you.”

For a moment he did not realize that it was Melli who interrupted his stream of conciousness, because that voice so thin and weak barely resembled his.

When Ingo dared rise his gaze again (there was always the possibility that a lightning strike would have burnt him to a crisp to kindly let him known that was the wrong course of action) his Diamond counterpart struck him as suddenly looking incredibly young. Maybe it was his almost frightened expression, or the way his shoulders closed in on his chest, or how he nervously picked at his nails, or that strange tone with which he’d spoken.

Sneasler’s warden tilted his cap in a curt nod of aknowledgement before he could keep on staring any longer.

“I will let you resume your usual schedule now!” he excused himself quickly: “Once again, my honest praise for you well-done work. I apologize for having derailed the course of your duties. Have a good day, warden Melli.”

The younger man nodded quietly; he looked without a word at the foreigner speed away with an abnormally stiff gait, embarassed beyond belief.

Iscan sat away from the trimestral celebration, enjoying some peace and quiet. Festivities got quite overwhelming for him - so nobody thought him rude for stepping out of the settlement for a breather every now and then during these occasions. Plus, it was a nice clear night and the air was just cool enough on his skin to give him pleasant goosebumps.

Quick steps made him turn his head back towards his home, and he smiled welcomingly at Melli as he took a seat beside him and scooted closer, leaning his head on the wide chest while the older warden wrapped an arm around him.

They enjoyed the chirping silence of the Mirelands like that, for a little bit.

Then the younger played with a lock of hair and mumbled rapidly: “He said ‘m doin’ well.”

“Hm?” Iscan hummed, not having been paying attention.

“The Pear clan’s foreigner warden, Ingo - he said he thinks I’m taking care of Lord Electrode very well,” his friend repeated.

At that he nodded, pleasantly surprised: “Oh! How nice of him.”

It wasn’t often that Melli got positive reinforcement, what with his insufferable charade of superiority usually grating everybody else’s nerves into fine dust and discouraging them from offering him any sort of kind words about his work since he apparently praised himself abundantly on his own anyways; so he was very glad for Ingo taking the initiative to do so even though, logically, he was subjected to the pompous performance the most out of anybody else in Hisui.

The sound of fingers fidgeting had him wait patiently for the overthought subject of the evening.

“Why would he do that?” the younger warden whined quietly, honestly distraught: his tone was an almost perfect replica of the one he used as a kid when crying about someone pulling his hair or tripping him into a puddle.

Iscan cocked an eyebrow: “You didn’t like what he said?”

“No - I mean - he’s right, no? He’s gotta be, since Electrode loves me--” (and the older man knew that was no exaggeration, but honest truth) “--But why?”

The warm dark hand on Melli’s shoulder squeezed it comfortingly as Iscan tried to figure out something the other would have accepted as a possibility, eventually settling on a tentative: “Maybe he just wanted to be nice?”

“But that makes no sense!” his little cousin argued, furrowing his upset brow enough to give himself a headache if he kept that going: “I haven’t been exactly nice to him, so why should he feel like he should be with me? And he’s never in need of anything, so I don’t know what he could want in return - maybe he just wants me to owe him something, so he can use that to get me to do what he wants when he needs it most?”

The long sigh that deflated the chest he leaned against instantly worried Melli with the horrid thought of having annoyed the only person who liked him.

But Iscan tilted his head and twirled a strand of lilac hair between his fingers: “Look, now...” he began very gently: “I’ve heard a little about Ingo from warden Palina, and if I can trust what she’s told me - and I assure you I can, because she was very honest with me - he’s exactly as polite and nice as much as he’s strange. So I’m fairly certain that he told you how good of a job you’re doing because he really thought that, and just wanted you to know.”

A soft hum rattled the thin frame under his arm.

“Even if I’ve only been insufferable?” his cousin insisted weakly.

“Maybe he said those kind things because of that.”

“What do you mean?”

“That he might have wanted to get some good blood flowing between you two.”

“You really think so?”

“I don’t see why it shouldn’t be like that.”

Melli exhaled quietly.

He curled a little closer to his only human confidant.

“I don’t know what to do about that,” he mumbled.

“Well,” the larger warden laid his head on top of his as he hugged him properly. “I guess it wouldn’t be that bad of a start to be nice to him back, no?”

Some Zubats screeched happily further away, and Iscan hoped with all his heart Ingo would have liked the candy truffles and Pecha berries his cousin would have inevitably drowned him in, as the only way he could be honestly kind without betraying his carefully crafted mask was through edible gifts.

#pokémon #pokemon legends arceus #warden melli #submas ingo #warden iscan #random writing #my three favorite lads! here they come!#iscan is the most balanced out of the three of them and man if it doesnt say smth #iscan upon underperforming in an interaction: oh no 3:} ive embarassed myself #melli and ingo upon underperforming in an interaction: i got a bad grade in Human which means i am now viable to be Hunted For Sport #i want them to be........... on good terms...................................#ofc in game ingos annoyed by melli bein mean n stupid and mellis mean n stupid bc hes gotta be with this noodle of a teen comin over #but also..... good terms...... sorta pals.....#ingo: how can i make a meaningful positive interaction with my fellow warden? i know! genuine praise for something hes good at!#melli whos never had someone compliment him for that: (shortcircuits)

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wildissylupus · 9 months

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This might be random but how do you think Ashe would interact with the other overwatch members besides cass?

I think she'd get along with the younger members of Overwatch, cause she's already the big sister of Deadlock so she's easily slip into that role with Overwatch too.

I also think her a Sojourn would get along, mostly because I am convinced that Sojourn would take Ashe under her wing. Every other Old Guard member has a kid/kid figure, give Sojourn one too!

Though I will remain adamant that she would hate Ana, like those two are early days Cassidy and Jack vibes. I specifically think this because Ashe would be offended by Ana's treatment of Pharah, specifically because of how similar it is to her own childhood. This women is only being nice to her out of respect for everyone else.

As for how she'd interact with them in general... it depends on how she joins. If I'm right with my theory that B.O.B is going to be yoinked by Null Sector along with other Omnic Deadlock members, then I think she'd initially be somewhat hostile and disgruntled, there's also the fact that a lot of the current OW members are associated with the law. So yeah it's going to take her a bit to warm up to people.

Though I do think that Ashe would start to open up to everyone after her and Cassidy sort out their issues and Ashe realizes how important these people really are to him.

#overwatch #overwatch 2 #overwatch lore #overwatch headcanons #analysis #ashe overwatch #elizabeth caledonia ashe #elizabeth caledonia calamity ashe

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tabsters · 5 months

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MAGIC CREATURE TIME COME GET YOUR MAGIC CREATURES

its been a while since i made a lore post, so here ya go! this one's about some of the magical creatures that live on the astral plane :D

tagging @mythicalmagical-monkeyman @hyperfixation-tangentopia and @maiawhimsicalt

masterpost is here

Demon physiology:

Demons is a catch-all term for any being made from the natural elements of the Astral Plane. Demons' life span depends on the environment they live in. Demons are made purely from one element (fire, earth, air, water, light, and shadow) and are the most in tune with their elemental powers than other creatures. Demons are incapable of reproducing sexually. They instead manifest into the living world at random, depending on the seasons and the life cycle of their environment.

Demons are not wholly good or bad, as they are parts of nature and thus reflect the state of the environment. Volcanic eruptions or violent earthquakes may lead to disgruntled demons, and vice versa. Calm winds and still waters will lead to peaceful demons, etc.

Demons that are completely aggressive are called 'rogues', and they embody the wildest and most destructive parts of nature.

Demons that are completely passive are rare, but not impossible. These demons are called 'virtues', and they are the calmest but also the most skittish and afraid types of demons.

Demon social environments:

Demons will often form clans, and clans are headed by an overlord. An overlord title is earned through a series of trials, and if an overlord is not liked by their people, the people can demand abdication. Overlord titles are named after the original lords of the seven deadly sins.

Demons are usually mistrustful of other demons that aren't of their own clan, though they can be compelled to work together if needed. The only exceptions are behemoth demons, who don't trust anybody enough to form stable communities, and mirror demons, who are so rare that they can't form communities. Cross species demon interaction is rare, but almost always results in hostility unless there's a pacifying third party.

Most demons are on hostile or neutral terms with Zodiacs and Constellations because they fear competition for territory. It should be noted that demons were recruited by Eclipse to grant the Zodiacs and Constellations elemental powers, so there is barely a power difference between demons and Zodiacs. There has been several wars and territorial disputes between demons and Zodiacs in the past.

Types of demons:

Fire demons - short, large, short spiky tails, horns curved forward and positioned on top of the scalp, spikes on shoulders, legs, and arms, rocky bodies, magma inside bodies, located in hot and dry regions, very aggressive - overlord title is 'satan'

Earth demons - tall, lanky, long heavy tails, horns wide, curved downward and positioned on sides of head, large hands and feet, skin made out of tree bark, vines/plants growing on bodies, located in densely forested areas, slow, tired, they smoke opium all day - overlord title is 'belphegor'

Air demons - short, small, short tails, bat wings, horns curved back and positioned on top of the scalp, wispy bodies, poofy or fluffy hair, eyes change depending on the sky overhead, their bodies will turn gray and they will start to emit flashes of lightning if angered or scared, located everywhere but mostly in cold areas, very skittish and scared easily - overlord title is 'lucifer'

Water demons - tall, lanky, long tails with wide and flat ends to aid in swimming, horns thin and positioned on forehead, webbed hands and feet, sharp fangs, spinal fins, skin comes in varying shades of blue; depends on location, demons that live deeper underwater will have fish tails instead of legs - overlord title is 'leviathan'

Light demons - short, large, long tails with a stylized heart end, horns curled and positioned on sides of head, blindingly white eyes, they keep their faces hidden behind a mask-like face panels, when they attack their prey, the face plates open and they reveal their glowing eyes and sharp teeth, most humanlike form of demon, make deals and contracts with other spirits in return for feeding off of them for sustenance—a fusion between a fae and a vampire - overlord title is 'asmodeus'

Shadow demons - tall, lanky, barbed tails, vaporous bodies, shapeshifters, horns curve upward and positioned on sides of head, no discernible mouth, able to shapeshift into bigger or smaller forms, has a 'core' somewhere on their bodies; it's the only weak point they have and permanently breaking it will cause its death, they love shiny things, the only demons that can be controlled by specific zodiacs or constellations - overlord title is 'mammon'

Calamity demons - tall, large, gloopy bodies, multiple eyes and mouths, antlers, clawed hands, in a constant state of hunger, seeks out nourishment in the form of smaller demons or in severe cases, other calamity demons, the most unintelligent form of demon - overlord title is 'beelzebub'

Behemoth demons - short, small demons, curved tail for balance, skinny fingers and toes, white and light brown skin to camouflage themselves in the snow, able to create illusions to make themselves seem bigger than they actually are to scare off predators, the most distrustful demons, even among themselves

Mirror demons - parasitic demons, appearance changes based on host, black skin and glowing eyes, rarest form of demon, manifestation of host's deepest regrets and despairs, seeks to eventually take over host's body, they will attempt to communicate with the host in order to enter a mutual symbiotic relationship with it, but this is seldom obtained, if it can be obtained, the mirror demon and host will function similar to Eddy Brock and Venom, and if not, the demon will begin to ‘haunt’ the host, replacing host’s reflection in mirrors until the host dies

questions about my lore are greatly appreciated!!

#oc #oc lore #zodiac #zodiacs #zodiac sign #zodiac signs #zodiac lore #zodiac oc #zodiac ocs

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loominggaia · 3 months

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Lamaish Subcultures

I've gotten a lot of requests for this one! Sorry it took so long.

Come to Lamai Nation! We've got tweekers, cecaeliaboos, snake-nazis, and incels! I think there are more subcultures than this, but this is all I have so far, so I'm posting it as-is.

(Special thanks to @razzek for the never-nesters idea! If you guys have more suggestions just send 'em over!)

Pinpricks - Pin is a popular drug throughout southern Wokina, mostly used for religious purposes. However, some people abuse this drug and end up worshiping it more than they worship their gods. These individuals are colloquially known as “pinpricks”. They are identified by their erratic behavior and loose grip on reality. They tend to congregate in groups and hold “alternative” religious services, which always involves getting high on pin and little else. They consider themselves more enlightened than mainstream society, though most of them suffer dementia symptoms due to the pin abuse. They wear clothing with bright, psychedelic patterns and overload their bodies with all kinds of eclectic jewelry.

Seasnakes - Refers to gorgons who spend a lot of time with cecaelia and emulate cecaelian ways of life. Many seasnakes believe that gorgons are actually another race of cecaelia, and they can somehow unlock their innate cecaelian abilities like body regeneration, water breathing, and longevity. They subscribe to a lot of woo beliefs and perform odd rituals to “unlock” these supposed powers. Many cecaelia just find them offputting, while others are flattered by them and enjoy their company. Some cecaelia even take advantage of seasnakes by charging money to “help” them unlock their powers.

Sons and Daughters of of Serpentia - A subset of Lamaish gorgons who believe Lamai Nation is only for gorgonkind and no one else. They campaign for the removal of all non-gorgons from Lamaish territory, and the outlawing of all religions except Serpentism. Their numbers grow and wane over the eras as local politics evolve, but their hateful beliefs remain the same. They are known for their hostile, thuggish behavior towards non-gorgons and non-Serpentists churches. There was once an old political movement in Lamai Nation, which called for a theocracy called "Serpentia". Serpentia was said to be a utopian land for all gorgon Serpentists. Sons and Daughters of Serpentia adopted their name from this concept.

Never-Nesters - These are male gorgons who have sworn off female companionship, refusing to romance females or start families. Some of them go as far as to refuse all interaction with females entirely. They may choose other males for companionship, but most often they end up alone. Most Lamaish never-nesters are ziqits, but some alpha males have joined the movement as well. These gorgon men feel disgruntled by Lamai Nation’s misandrist laws, and they wish to rebel against their culture by challenging women at every turn. Though they think themselves warriors of equality, most of them are simply recluses who struggle to relate to others. Lamaish culture heavily frowns upon never-nesters and their antisocial ways.

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

Read the Series

#ask #asklamai #askculture #askgorgon

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daeva-agas · 1 year

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I am playing Sakuya route in SLBP (mostly for the reward) and I wonder, where Nobunaga hatred toward ninjas comes from? This is like the 3rd game where he shows his disdain towards them. Can you explain why? Because I'm curious.

Oh no, it's that thing again.

Remind me what are the other ones. Is it Ninja Love? Nightshade? Non-otome games?

Anyway, this is a huge rant and IDK, could clog up people's dash so I will put it behind a cut.

I probably shouldn't say these about Japanese people writing about their own history and legends, but I hate this stupid "Nobunaga hates ninjas" trope, so my very grumpy answer is:

BECAUSE STUFFY CORPORATE SUITS ARE SO TERRIFIED OF CHANGE AND CAN'T BE ASSED TO TRY NEW THINGS. IF BULLSHIT TROPES STILL MAKE MONEY, THEN BY GOD THEY WILL KEEP MAKING IT UNTIL JESUS RETURNS.

And I'm giving the benefit of the doubt that they're doing this because "it's a trope that people seems to like", and not because they're just running off "I saw it in an anime/manga/novel/movie once" and never bother to Yahoo search it or open a book about it.

(I'm not all that mad anymore, but like, I will still go AAAAAAAAAAA every time it comes up)

"Nobunaga hates ninja" is a long-standing trope that's been around for decades in Japan. The oldest one I was able to find is this movie series called "Shinobi no Mono". Maybe there's something older, I don't know.

It's a historical fact that the Oda did invade Iga. However, there is so many context for it. Among many other things... one record says it's actually the people of Iga who sicced Nobunaga ON THE PROVINCE THEMSELVES.

It ended up being transformed into a "Nobunaga hates ninja" plotline because the above historical fact is being combined with the long-standing legend that "Iga is a place where ninjas live".

Also, in the 60s and 70s there’s this like... movement where people are really disgruntled at the government, and so because they can’t flat out write works about how much they hate the Japanese government of the time, they just write stuff about peasant heroes or vigilantes fighting against evil samurai lords as a way to vent their frustrations. Nobunaga being one of the easiest character to caricaturise because it’s not like the “evil stuff” they make him do is entirely wrong. The facts are just taken out of context and twisted for the sake of fiction. Evil/demonic/horrible Nobunaga as a trope in general seems to be relatively new from this era too, since Edo and Meiji works seems to present Nobunaga is an admirable heroic figure.

(well, they wrote about him doing kinda mean things, but it’s presented in a way that makes it sound like the writers think it’s “something that just happens” and not a big deal/not an entirely negative thing)

In real life there is no such thing as "sekrit ninjer village uwu", so honestly, if the above account is true, then it's possible that there's in-fighting among the people of Iga. It's what happens with the Saika people. Suzuki (Saika) Magoichi surrendered to Nobunaga and then some time later makes a request for the Oda army to come in and destroy this one guy he really hates.

If the story about the Iga folks inviting Nobunaga in themselves is actually false, I’ve not seen any other explanation for it yet, but I still think Nobunaga invading Iga is just business as usual. At the time of the Iga invasion, the surrounding provinces are already conquered, leaving Iga as this one tiny hole in the middle of what is technically "Oda territory". Maybe Nobunaga thinks this hostile province could cause problems in the surrounding regions, so he wants them gone. It's no different than, say, Nobunaga fighting a war against the Takeda and conquering them.

It's not even Nobunaga in command of the army (as far as reliable records go), so any depiction of Nobunaga personally leading his army into Iga is garbage. He sent one of his sons and a few generals to go off and fight, while he himself only comes in for inspection after everything's cleaned up.

The standard reasoning in bullshit Sengoku trope/fiction is that Nobu just doesn't trust woo woo shit, and only wants to do things the "legit" way (with soldiers and stuff). Ninja is considered woo woo because of their “secret arts”, and because they’re usually depicted as having no lords/masters but themselves, I guess he is wary of them rebelling against him or something.

Funny thing is, even if you actually buy into the ninjas thing, supposedly even the “guidebook of ninjas”, the Bansenshukai, says that the Oda has ninjas, so “Nobunaga hates ninjas” is just silly all around. Bansenshukai is this book supposedly detailing ninja clans and secret techniques and whatever, written in the 1600s, by one of the Fujibayashi descendants (IDK Sakuya’s grandkids I guess)

#anon ask #ask reply #reply #it's that thing #sengoku

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the-firebird69 · 9 months

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Those huge number of idiots in this town they look up in this chastising and saying don't crap and they really have no right to they're just morons and we're going to chastise them which is the lack of brains.

-it also taking action on them they were taking their stuff and territory as I sit there bothering him and all of them they don't have the right to threateness and we're going to take it out on them huge areas are coming to us today islands and half of islands New Zealand is cut into three pieces and one of them is falling and it's to the north and it's Dave AKA Dan is the useless big mouth and trump will fall shortly after. We're going to hold all the territories we take and Madagascar is cut in half half the towers and the imbiciles keep going out there and they keep dying pretty soon they'll be gone. And several of the islands near Florida the same effect is happening and they will be held Australia is embroiled and losses are catastrophic for the clones and morlock and anybody else who goes there is more than Philippines in Malaysia are falling and soon they'll be gone and the ornery and they're mean and they're unjustifiably so they heard a lot of people and did not hold on to the power and they didn't do any work and their lazy slobs

-I don't intend to help anybody even our son and their stupid about it so they can leave but we're taking over massive monster territory today at least us to the next announcement

-there are certain amount of people here who do not understand that we are taking control back and there are a few other parties as well and we are going to make sure that they understand it to a degree we've had enough of them bossing us around and pushing your son around I don't like them in the first place and when they're mean and hostile to our son we take it out of them but really they don't learn by showing them that it's horrible so right now we have about 1500 areas that were theirs in Florida and we are taking them over fully we had encompass them and now we're going to take them and there's only 500 left and they're kind of open space but it's going to make a huge difference cuz they plan to settle there and they will not be allowed to at all similar is happening throughout the world and fairly soon they will not be able to do anything anywhere attitude is horrible. And occupiable space has been cut down to about 10% stan went to court yesterday and

The two Big fellas Ken and they lost and Biden went today and lost there's a couple other people or smaller and lost and they don't know where they're going to go so we started to hit it today and we developed a method of taking people out of relocating them and we relocated them to apartments that are designated the Holocaust houses and Macs are doing a lot of it. And in court today Biden completed not guilty to the charges and tried to retain the land and they're proceeding to bring him to court on the charges and he said he's a fighter and it's not going to give in and they're moving on him and his and it's the max it is still pretty big they lost a lot today but they still have around 12% of the population and it's moving on to not very good that's what it is I'm watching it and a lot of people disgruntled and they should be it is very bad day for them but we are making progress in the area of acquiring the land and Biden even though he's going to court in his only 3% of the properties his properties are being surrounded and if only people out right now that's the 10% of the campgrounds and about 1.5% are surrounded the other 1.5% they say they're going to do today and that would bring it to about six and a half percent if they surround all the apartments of Biden which they intend to do because of the attitude they said the remaining three and a half percent are mostly hotels and motels and they'll be in court this afternoon just to FYI again ok. The open space issues are intense there's tons and tons of open space and they are taking a lot of it and now we are in others now and it'll be closed and that will eliminate bivouacking

It's been a request in this morning for Bradley GT1 to be built and we know where somewhere in California and it's by his son and daughter-in-law and her son and daughter-in-law same people there's a few of them that want to sign up and do it and they have it modified version it looks similar but it looks really really kick butt and it's a C1 and it's not very big that would be for the Dodge neon and I think that's where neo comes from and everybody has this tendency to do that straight stuff but that's fast car would you put the Bradley GT1 body on and we're going to use frprc it's extremely fast with the standard motor new tires new rims you provide the rims and tires we provide the whole kit into your finishes controls connections any modifications you have to make and complete instructions at all the parts and materials are there and you'll be going 275 miles an hour before you blink top speed is like 300 if you modify them the motor a little you'll be going around 3:40 and people want that one because they're smaller and we're going to go ahead and do it and he was right the whole time then our son was trying to get it going and daughter and he got mad and said what is he going to do he's going to try all this stuff and wait for this to go ahead and it's going to head now this other girls that goes to they're going to sell it for all the other cars there's a Chevy that size a Ford and they're doing it now and other news we are putting the casino together and we're not waiting because people are just sitting there looking at it and we will have a satellite casino but only later and people want to sign up to be a satellite casino and we're looking at that and when a discussions with them one of them is Trump and the other is not Dave he doesn't want to talk to us he wants to force his way in and he's going to get chopped up no one can stand him anymore Mac wants to and so we're going to have meetings with him and we want to show him what it's going to be and he'll want to satellite casino right away and he wants to put in the standard casino and a sun agrees it's a lower profile but it's decent enough that people will want to say and he's thinking maybe Reno as well and that's our son and man says it's a good idea and you get the steak guy. And Camilla likes it actually all those Camilla's cuz they got beefy so Mac is thinking of that and we are actually starting farming up there and the factories are being built and it's huge okay this is a huge facility and we need to sign people up so we need to have these meetings it's Wednesday and he said we could have meetings down here we have characters and it's Prince spaghetti day so an Italian restaurant and stuff it's like allegro and he likes the idea and will be like a preliminary meeting just a little dinner and big questions and some answers so we can go ahead with that now

Thor Freya

I'm happy with the progress and it's going forwards and we're going to get a lot of stuff done today

Hera

Olympus

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bearsace · 2 years

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embraceable you -- chapter 3.

an ikemen sengoku fic by mitsushide

“There was no more marble, no more fire; there was only a man kneeling before her, and after a beat, he swayed and lurched forward as if thrown off balance.

Mizusaki Mai— fresh-out-of-college fashion intern and part-time librarian— caught bloodthirsty warlord Oda Nobunaga as he fell off his pedestal and into her arms.”

Or: the story in which Mai’s too busy for a soulmate, but the petrified-in-stone Sengoku warlord who’s just come back to life thinks otherwise.

read below, or on ao3! ✱ chapter one ✱ chapter two ✱ chapter 3

in which nobunaga won’t part with his sweets, sasuke proves himself to be the best teacher and most patient man alive, and mai and nobunaga are fascinated by an elevator.

Getting Nobunaga back to Japan was rife with complications. From having to go back to the hotel to pack, Nobunaga seeming to want to fight everyone and everything that looked at him wrong (including the poor front desk agent!), and having to elbow their way through the press that had gotten wind of the new plans, it was the same struggle as trying to wrangle a big dog into a small cage. And the worst part of it all—

—of all things—

“Nobunaga!” Mai snapped irritably. They still had not spoken one diplomatic word to the other. “Just give the nice man your candy!”

—was airport security.

As it turned out, Nobunaga carried a tremendous amount of magic particles— so much so that the particle tests back in Japan were sure to reveal an even more staggering amount. So much so that the Roissy Airport assumed he was an international threat.

It had been nearly six hours since they’d exchanged contact information with Dr. Pascal, signed papers to, whatever, release an exhibit into Mai’s care or something, and gone on their disgruntled way. Disgruntled, in Mai’s case. Sasuke? He seemed to have endless reserves of patience.

“It’s really important,” Sasuke coaxed. Currently, they were situated in a security room at the airport, having missed their first flight due to an emergency security check and now hoping to make it onto the next red-eye. “They’re gonna give it right back.”

“Yeah,” Mai parroted. “They’ll give it right back.”

She threw a questioning glance at the security agent to double-check that statement. She truly feared what would happen if they separated Nobunaga from his candy.

She shouldn’t have opened her mouth though, because while Nobunaga seemed to be considering it when Sasuke said so, he all but turned hostile when Mai piped up.

“No,” he said defiantly, a satisfied gleam in his eye.

And that was over two hours ago.

Mai plunked herself down unceremoniously in her seat. At the risk of his best friend and his idol ripping each others’ throats out, Sasuke wisely suggested that he sit between them— then came the argument of whether to put Nobunaga or Mai at the window seat. Nobunaga wanted the aisle seat, claiming it was a “better tactical position” or some nonsense equivalent. Mai, on the other hand, certainly did not want to be caged into the window seat by Nobunaga, even with Sasuke as a buffer.

In the end, Sasuke managed to convince Nobunaga to take the window seat— after all, he probably could have overthrown the whole, mostly-empty plane with just his pinky finger if he wanted, regardless of where he was situated. Moreso, the sky certainly was not something that Nobunaga had seen so intimately before.

Mai took a moment to quash the warmth that stubbornly blossomed in her heart when she saw him gaze out the window with childlike wonder.

“Is it magic?” He inquired analytically as the plane’s angle stabilized.

“Not this one,” Sasuke answered. After a brief discussion, he and Mai had agreed to purchase nonmagical return flights— both for Nobunaga to adjust, as well as for Mai’s own sanity. “It’s actually physics.”

And then they were off, chattering like long-lost pals catching up and not an astrophysicist explaining five-hundred years worth of scientific advancements to an ancient Japanese warlord whose soulmate moped in the aisle seat.

Eventually Nobunaga was satisfied with the explanation and settled comfortably to watch the clouds, his breath slightly fogging up the window as he pressed his temple against it. The red lights of the plane’s wings blinked softly in the evening ink. The cool hum of the engines became nothing but background noise. The “fasten seatbelt” sign chimed off as the ride grew steady.

Mai couldn’t help being impressed that it wasn’t sensory overload for Nobunaga. Finally glad to be alone with Sasuke— or at least as alone as the situation could manage— she lifted the armrest between them and tucked herself into his side.

“Hi, you,” she said softly.

“Hey, you,” he responded with a small smile. “How are you holding up?”

“Barely,” Mai whispered. “This is too much. What are we gonna do with him, Sasuke?”

Sasuke flicked his eyes over to Nobunaga in warning, but Mai didn’t really care. She knew he was listening despite his eyes anchored to the moonlit clouds. Good. Let him know just how much of an intrusion in her life he was.

“I have ideas,” Sasuke confided. “If he wants to, I think he should live with me.” Mai opened her mouth to protest— but Sasuke was still speaking. “It’s not fair. I know this is an inconvenience, but imagine how he feels.”

“Oh, so you’re on his side now?” She countered, indignant.

Sasuke stared at her for a moment while her face grew hot with shame.

“You know I care about you with all my heart. You’re my oldest friend and my closest confidante; that’s why I’m worried about why you’re behaving like this right now. You’re not a selfish person. You’re fiercely loyal, incredibly generous, and if I may say so myself, very cool. I understand why you feel this way, but I’m sure you also understand that he’s lost all his friends, his power, and his plans. All he has left is Azuchi, and even that’s been converted to a tourist trap.”

Mai knew Sasuke well enough to understand that the last part about Azuchi was less for her benefit and more for Nobunaga’s— of course he was considerate enough to try to break it to him gently.

If only she could be half the person he was.

She simply wasn’t.

But she could try.

Taking a deep breath, she said, “I know— I know. And I appreciate him for coming back to life.” She paused. That wasn’t right. “For being so adaptive.” No, still not right. Still an outright lie. “For being so patient with me.” Was he, though? “For… letting me take the aisle seat,” she amended, deciding that that was okay for now.

Sasuke gave her a sympathetic look. “You’ll get there,” he encouraged.

Nobunaga had been silent through all this as he admired the night sky, seemingly unbothered that his soulmate didn’t much want or care for him at all.

Good, Mai affirmed again, albeit with a little less certainty. He’s the one who pissed someone off and got turned to stone. Let him deal with his own consequences.

—

Mai had never been happier to see the Kyoto cityline. The sky was dipped in a sweet lavender sunrise, and she was awake before both Sasuke and Nobunaga. She’d hardly slept at all, really.

She observed the pair in morning glow. Peaceful, both of them. Gentle, even the warlord, in sleep. She’d removed Sasuke’s glasses when he’d nodded off. The seatbelt sign blinked back to life for the first time in hours— it had been a rather smooth ride.

Mai clicked Sasuke’s seatbelt back into place and folded his tray, then after some internal debate, reached over to do the same for Nobunaga, determined to deny it if he asked.

“Just being decent,” she grumbled as she fussed with the locks, “Someone’s gotta do it.”

And suddenly she was looking not at his sleeping face, but at his scarlet eyes. He had woken up. She shouldn’t have expected less from someone who’d probably had to sleep with a sword by his bed his whole life.

But if that was the case…

Why was his hand over hers so tender, and not defensive?

She hadn’t realized he had placed it there until he’d stilled her attentions with long, graceful fingers. They were calloused— but warm.

It was the first time they had touched since the museum.

The feeling of it was downright heavenly.

He was curious too, she realized. Perhaps he knew the effect that he would’ve had on her— or rather, the effect that she would’ve had on him. She stared in awe.

No one had ever looked at her before the way that Nobunaga was looking at her now. As if she were a gently-flickering candle to curl up beside, to move carefully to his bedside in hopes she’d fend off nightmares. As if she were a tree and he a traveller, her shade his only sanctuary for the rest of his journey.

As if she had the power to shatter his world or mend it with nothing but a touch.

And, as if he knew this, he released her and leaned back, and suddenly the moment had never even happened while he ignored her to observe the plane’s descent. So. He wasn’t sure what to make of this new information either.

Mai returned to her spot, unsettled, while Sasuke stirred as the captain’s voice crackled into the cabin. With a stretch, he thanked her for buckling him up.

They touched down at last onto the tarmac; the landing was more uneven than their flight to Paris. They had a human pilot this time, after all, as opposed to magical autopilot. Sasuke and Nobunaga tensed beside her, but Mai exhaled with a little relieved huff. It would be nice to return home.

—

And, obviously, because her life was officially a mess from here on, that was easier said than done.

There hadn’t been many people on the late-night flight, and those who were neither noticed nor cared that there was a walking statue on their plane. Most were too busy reading, sleeping, or picking at the bland airline food to bother.

Here, though— in Kyoto, the cultural capital of Japan— there was no escaping the public eye. Nobunaga’s face was simply too well-known through artist renditions and all the pop culture sensations his famous name had amassed.

This was made obvious the moment they stepped into the Kyoto International Airport— Mai couldn’t imagine even a celebrity having this much attention.

“Stay close to me,” Sasuke instructed, and mercifully, Nobunaga did not argue. Mai gripped Sasuke’s backpack and followed close as photographers jostled them at the exit gate. Nobunaga, who looked on the verge of baring his teeth, remained behind Mai, effectively sandwiching her safe between himself and her best friend.

Bitterly she scowled at a reporter. Take a hike, buddy.

It occurred to her perhaps to be grateful for the way Nobunaga’s arms formed a protective ring around her. She gripped the sleeve of his Henley. It was nice, at least, to feel somewhat safe.

And then someone would cast a magelight spell in lieu of camera flash, and the cycle of anxiety would start all over again.

But Sasuke was making quick time to the airport doors where a cab was already hailed and waiting— good. As things were standing right now, the photos being snapped of Japan’s Sengoku Soulmates (as Mai later learned, with much horror, they were called) made them look like the meanest non-couple to walk the planet.

“Mai! Can you explain the events that led up to you touching Oda Nobunaga’s hand?”

“Were you aware at all that you were visiting your soulmate?”

“Some inside sources claim that this is a hoax. Can you please explain how you pulled off what many are saying is— and I quote— the greatest prank of the century?”

Like clockwork, she could feel Nobunaga slowly tensing at the same time she did.

“Thank you for your questions,” Sasuke butted in professionally, ushering Nobunaga and Mai into the taxi. “Nobunaga and Mai have no comment at this time.” He slammed the door shut.

The cab smelled wonderfully of nothing . No citrus, no sandalwood— just the familiar metallic scent of Sasuke’s signature, which she was used to anyway. Immediately she understood this to mean that their driver was a magic non-user, and relaxed.

“I’m impressed,” Mai quipped to her friend, hugging her arms close to herself. The cab was cold. “You handled that like a pro.”

“I was pretty awesome,” Sasuke agreed modestly as the driver kicked the car into drive, peeling out into the street, carefully avoiding newspeople. “In fact, maybe you should consider hiring me as your public manager.”

“I know you’re teasing, but that sounds like a delicious idea. You can drop out of school and do it full-time,” She joked. She realized belatedly that she was still gripping Nobunaga’s bicep and released it, suddenly unsure of what to do with her hands. As if sensing this, Sasuke reached for one of her hands and rubbed it quickly between his.

“It’s cold in here, isn’t it? Nobunaga, are you cold?”

“Not at all,” Nobunaga replied dismissively— he glanced momentarily at where Sasuke’s and Mai’s fingers interlocked, then caught eyes with her, then looked back out the window, tension pulsing off him in waves.

Kyoto was different than Paris— perhaps jarringly moreso, Mai observed, because Nobunaga surely would have known some form of it back in feudal Japan. This must have been more fearsome than France; in France, he had to take in new things. In Japan, he had to do that, with the added struggle of trying to comprehend all the changes.

Maybe Nobunaga even knew some of the historical landmarks around here personally. Maybe he’d washed his hands in that now-defunct basin there, or had sat and read under the shade of that proud old tree— five-hundred years ago.

Mai hovered her free hand over his wrist hesitantly before giving it a careful, reassuring squeeze.

“This city—” Nobunaga began, “—it is quite large. Surely this must be the capital of Japan: Heian-kyo.”

After a shared glance between friends, it was Sasuke to the rescue once again, as Mai could not be trusted to remember high school history correctly.

“Actually, it’s not, but I understand the confusion. There are bigger cities out there,” he said. At Nobunaga’s piercing gaze, he amended, “Of course, you don’t have to visit them yet. But Heian-kyo actually isn’t named that anymore— it’s more commonly referred to as Kyoto.”

“Ah, Kyoto. A wise choice; I’m fond of that name.” Nobunaga’s eyes softened marginally with approval, as if a city renamed at least three centuries after his supposed death needed it. “And what of the capital today? Is it now Azuchi?”

“It’s actually Tokyo— you would have known it as Edo.”

The taxi driver— a middle-aged, fatherly looking man— flicked his eyes to the rearview mirror, looking startled that someone might not be so up-to-date on the past five-hundred years of history.

But Nobunaga had an almost boyish curiosity about him, as Mai was slowly coming to discover. He soaked up information like a sponge. For every new fact that Sasuke told him, it appeared Nobunaga had ten more questions to bring them on a tangent.

“Edo was renamed to “Tokyo” in 1868, following the Meiji Restoration.”

“What is the Meiji Restoration? You must be more clear with the way you present to me, Sasuke.”

“The Meiji Restoration was when rule was returned to the Japanese Empire under Emperor Meiji.”

“What came before that, then? There must have been a significant history between 1582 and 1868.”

“That would have been the Edo Period— the time during which the capital was moved from Heian-kyo to Edo.”

“Who moved it, and why?”

Here, Mai and Sasuke exchanged a meaningful look.

“Well?” He demanded impatiently. “I asked a question.”

Mai stifled a roll of her eyes. She swore she’d be more tolerant, but that tone was making it horribly difficult.

“Look, Nobunaga. You’re asking me and Sasuke— er— you’re asking Sasuke ,” she amended, “To pretty much explain five-hundred years of history to you. Maybe you should slow down. Take a breather.”

Nobunaga’s thirst for knowledge was infectious. Even Mai, who didn’t care much for history, had found herself leaning forward in her seat, lapping up every word as if they were spellbinding stories. But it was impossible to continue the information without telling him what happened to his vassals— likely, his friends. Toyotomi Hideyoshi and Tokugawa Ieyasu, two of the most notable unifiers following Nobunaga, were next in history— but to explain it now, without explaining the events following his “death,” would be like skipping forward one-too-many pages.

It was like he knew their reservations, however; a challenging glint entered his eyes. Mai felt her entire body respond, thighs tensing, chin raising.

“What?” She demanded. “What’s wrong with you? Got something to say?”

“Mai,” Sasuke implored.

Nobunaga grinned. “You’re a feisty thing. Most women in my time would never have dared.”

“Good thing I’m not in your time, then— you’re in mine,” she snapped. “Don’t even try me, Nobunaga. This soulmate business doesn’t mean anything to me. I don’t have any intention of changing my plans for you, so cool it, okay?”

“Maybe you should take your own advice,” Sasuke muttered, defeated.

“Ha! What to do with you, Mai!” Nobunaga exclaimed, ignited.

“Nothing! You do nothing with me. You go live with Sasuke, and I’ll go do— I don’t know, whatever — and we can just forget we ever knew each other.”

“I doubt you can forget.”

“And now why would you doubt that.”

“Because you said it yourself. I’ll be living with Sasuke.”

More irritating than the fact that he was right was the quirk of victory on his lips. It was true, of course. He was pretty much unavoidable as long as Sasuke was her best friend. There’d be no getting around it. She wasn’t about to let some guy, warlord or not, keep her from hanging out with him.

The driver lurched to a halt so violently Mai almost thought for a moment that he was about to kick them out— honestly, she wouldn’t blame him, considering they’d spent the better part of the ride bickering (or, in Sasuke’s case, staring tiredly out the window and waiting for his companions to wear themselves out). It was like Nobunaga was trying to get a rise out of her.

She rolled her eyes just as the cab driver grunted, “We’re here.”

She was glad she’d had the hindsight to leave her car at Sasuke’s and Uber with him to the airport— it meant she didn’t have to take the cab another fifteen minutes to her apartment, alone with the driver who side-eyed the trio in concern.

“I’ll load your suitcase into your car,” Sasuke took the keys from Mai at the same time Nobunaga observed,

“This is a tall building.”

He wasn’t wrong— Sasuke, rather well-to-do, lived at the top of a lovely mirror-like condominium, in a penthouse in which Mai had spent too much time crashed in the guest bedroom. His home, situated right in the fashion district and a short walk from the local library, was far more convenient for Mai’s interests than the run-down apartment she currently missed more than ever.

“You’ll get a great view of the city,” Mai offered through clenched teeth, following Sasuke and determined to be the bigger person. Nobunaga dragged Sasuke’s suitcase with them.

“We’ll climb to the top?”

“Nah,” she dismissed. She couldn’t even imagine climbing almost twenty floors.

“A plane, then?”

She barked a surprised laugh before composing herself. It was a reasonable enough question. “No, an elevator. It’s like, um, a platform that moves on its own?”

“Ah— so that thing we arrived here in— that taxi, which moved on its own— that was an elevator, as well.”

“It’s sorta different than that. Just because it moves on its own doesn’t necessarily make it an elevator. A taxi is a car, which moves side-to-side. An elevator only moves up-and-down.”

Nobunaga contemplated this. “So, a car moves side-to-side.”

“Yep.”

“And an elevator moves up-and-down.”

“That’s right.”

“Then clearly a plane would be an elevator-car,” he announced confidently.

Well, he wasn’t wrong. It was perhaps the first time he was right that Mai didn’t feel any particular twinge of annoyance— likely because it wasn’t at her expense. Instead, she amusedly replied, “Honestly, they should just call it that. More to the point, don’t you think?”

“I must agree with you. This elevator, is it physics, like a plane?”

“Some use physics. Electricity and the like. I’m pretty sure the one in Sasuke’s building uses magic, though, the same way that a plane can run either on physics or magic depending on the kind. Look.” She stopped him, placing a hand on his arm and pointing upward. He craned his head. “You can see the elevator moving from outside here, through the glass. See those ropes? I think those have something to do with it. Sasuke probably knows exactly how it works.”

They stood in comfortable silence for a while in the warm afternoon, Mai’s hand settled in the crook of Nobunaga’s elbow, watching the elevator go up, up, up. Then they watched the elevator go down, down, down. Then they watched the elevator go up, up-

“Hey, you two, what are you looking at?” Sasuke asked. Mai quickly removed her hand from Nobunaga’s arm, suddenly aware that it was there at all.

“I would like to ride The Elevator,” Nobunaga declared, speaking the words with the honor of uppercase and all. He didn’t wait for a response and simply strode toward the building, a man on a mission.

“I take my eyes off you for two minutes and suddenly you’re getting along,” Sasuke joked.

“Don’t even,” Mai grumbled. “It wasn’t any different than you teaching him about planes.”

“It was very different.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. You see, I’m not his soulmate.”

There it was. The “S” Word. She threw Sasuke a warning glance. He appeared a bit too solemn. She ran a hand through her hair.

“Hey, look, Sasuke… I don’t think I’m gonna be around for a while.”

He didn’t seem fazed at all— in fact, it wouldn’t be too much of a reach to say that he’d been expecting it.

“It’s not that I don’t wanna hang out with you,” she quickly added, “It’s just that… I guess it makes sense for me to stay away for now. For a ton of reasons.”

“He’ll probably adjust better without you for now,” Sasuke admitted. She squinted at him.

“That’s a pretty sudden change of heart, considering just a couple moments ago you were gung-ho’ing for this whole soulmate thing. Are you? Gung-ho’ing me?”

“I don’t think that’s a word.”

“Seriously. Do you actually think he’ll adjust better without me, or are you just telling me what I want to hear?”

“You can be pretty stubborn,” he replied with a shrug. Which wasn’t an answer at all.

“Sasuke,” Nobunaga beckoned. Man , how could this guy sound like he was commanding an army just by standing at a door twenty feet away, getting ready to board The Elevator?

“I better run,” Sasuke said apologetically, handing off Mai’s car keys. “I’ll see you hopefully not too far from now, okay?”

“Alright.”

Mai watched them go, rubbing her chest absentmindedly and already feeling a sting at their absence. It was horribly strange to be apart from them now. She slowly drifted to her car, cursing the traffic she knew she was bound to encounter as she peeled out of Sasuke’s driveway and headed home.

It wasn’t until she pried open the door of her dilapidated apartment that her phone pinged, and it was a text from Sasuke— he said nothing, but attached a photo of Nobunaga on The Elevator, the warlord looking even more fascinated than he had on the plane, face pressed against the glass as he gazed at the sprawling city with undisguised wonder. Mai couldn’t help but smile.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen fanfic #ikesen nobunaga #oda nobunaga #nobunaga #fic: embraceable you

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infinitum-imaginaerum · 4 years

Text

Secrets | Joshua

Joshua | Secrets

Words | 9,180

Notes | Bodyguard!Joshua, mentions of alcohol, mild cursing. Angst/Fluff;

I’m back-ish with a very rough (I think) piece, mildly edited. I’m excited but nervous to be posting here again and I don’t know how often it will be that I will be posting but.... here’s this; my first svt piece in 8 months. This is a repost since... the tagging system on this site... yeah...

The fake smiles and peach Bellinis, the overdone cologne and extravagant attire, the crystal chandeliers and table decorations all brought a sneer to your face when you assumed nobody was paying close enough attention. The solitude didn’t bother you so much, it was nice to not feel like you were being suffocated for at least ten minutes; ten minutes of breathing to yourself was all you ever asked for. Always being tugged this way and that for photo ops got exhausting. The photo ops weren’t even the most taxing part, it was the fake relationship you had to keep up with one of the most prominent up and coming jewelry designer’s son, who you had happily dated at one point.

Big chunky bracelets, rings that looked too heavy for fingers, necklaces layered to the hills, and earrings that may have ripped anyone’s earlobes open was the type of gaudy jewelry you always had to put on display with a disgusting fake smile while your now-ex-boyfriend dripped with confidence, somehow, that made your skin crawl. Being in his direct vicinity all the time to keep up the image of this perfect shining couple for the sake of jewelry promotions quite frankly made your stomach turn, but the perks may have made it worth it—occasionally.

Some of the more elegant jewelry picks, a lump sum of money, some days wiping that egotistical smirk off his face were a few things that made it all worthwhile since you were frequently the one being interviewed at events about the jewelry line while still not being the heir. That boiled his blood in a way that genuinely turned your lips up in an almost unnoticeable smile. The couth you had to sit there in front of him and take all the questions with such grace—you could feel the way his fingers dug into your hip when he sat with you a bit friendly, but it was all for show. The two of you were business partners now, and that’s really all it boiled down to.

But you’d had your run-in with his less than stellar attitudes, at galas and showcases when he lost his temper with you being a show-stealer, and often forcefully kept you around to keep the cameras on him. That’s when you found Joshua. You’d found him and his specific skillset in a newspaper ad—it was unlike you to read the newspaper but you perused the ad section for job listings, animal adoptions, and all kinds of other things when you came across his blurb:

Full or Part Time Bodyguard. Trained in hand to hand and weapons combat, CPR certified, available for any/all events. To Inquire, call Joshua Hong.

While you had entertained the idea of a bodyguard for a while, it never really became a necessity until the business partnership you had was getting a bit more aggressive. There was little you could do to complain, because leaving was always a viable option, albeit they begged you to stay for publicity purposes—they being the family after hearing of your falling out. But Joshua became a harsher reality as the partnership became most hostile.

When you first saw Joshua at a consultation, he was the last type you’d ever suspect. You wouldn’t say he was far from intimidating looking, but he didn’t radiate a whole ass-kicking like you had expected. He was quieter with soft eyes but very professional. He spoke to you matter-of-factly, laying out all your options and drafting contract ideas in case you wanted to go through with hiring him. You figured it couldn’t hurt to have him around, particularly at events where anything could have gone unnoticed in such a large crowd, especially with the way you were treated.

Bringing Joshua to the table for a showcase rocked the boat a bit. It turned into an escalation by your ‘business partner’ about how it was unnecessary to have a bodyguard and that it would only bring suspicions about your relationship, to which you retaliated, “As if you harshly pulling me around isn’t enough.” His parents could do little to object. You had Joshua there with you, or you were out of the deal, which would bring their publicity and the whole story of a budding couple getting into jewelry design together to a screeching halt and they would undoubtedly lose the following and media support they’d gained because of it.

Joshua became even less favorable by the end of the first confrontation between him and the egomaniac. He was demanding you around at a photo-op, even sternly in front of the photographers—most of which by now were suspicious of the condition of your relationship because really how dare he talk to you like that much less in public—and often grabbed you by the arm and placed you exactly where he wanted you when he wanted you to be there. It was in Joshua’s contract to tolerate minor things like that, but he ground his teeth at just the sight but kept his mouth shut for the duration of the shoot. But when it was finally time to go home, he sure gave a piece of his unsolicited mind.

“Next time, how about you try keeping your hands off,” Joshua commented a bit harshly in the direction of the man who quickly became an enemy.

“Joshua,” you pleaded with him as you were packing your things, but your ex had already turned face to chest Joshua up. He ignored you for a moment, knowing you weren’t in any danger because the only danger to you was currently right in his face.

“I’ll put her where I want, when I want,” was the confident reply.

“Actually, you won’t,” Joshua spat back, eye to eye with the slightly shorter male in front of him. “You will keep your hands to yourself.”

“Mister Hong,” you almost barked, his full name flowing from your lips like a command to a soldier, which was in essence what he was. He choked off the growl in his throat as he turned face to return to you while you finished gathering your things, but not without giving the other man—who looked as if that was a battle he’d won instead of a battle he’d just been saved from—a glare that would make his mother pale. You picked up your bag after Joshua helped your jacket on and you left the building.

He did his best to bite his tongue in situations he knew he should just be quiet and wait for your cue or follow the contract to a T. The first gala was an absolute trip—there were hundreds of people, too many asking too many questions, flashing cameras in your face, people crowding left and right and that same smile on your face even he could tell was fake. But he played the part well—he donned a pressed black suit with a lovely fuchsia carnation pinned on his lapel. The only thing that made him out of place was the clear earpiece he had tapped to the microphone in the clip of your hair. If he was too far to see you, he could at least hear you if there was a problem.

It was obvious enough that it deterred people from asking him questions, or even talking to him really, but he wasn’t the only guard on duty so he spent most of his time playing wallflower, lined up with the others as they observed the gala. It was clear that it was strictly forbidden to interact with you under circumstances not outlined in the contract, by direct request of the family of honor. You figured it was fair, as the whole reason you were there was to portray an image and Joshua wasn’t part of it.

Most gala’s he spent gritting his teeth as he stood tall against the wall, watching the way your partner manhandled you just within the boundaries of the contract until it was finally over when he would follow you close out of the venue and take your hand to step you off the curb to let you fall into the passenger’s seat of his car brought around by valet just to get in and grip the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grasp and silently take you home, and be paid out on your doorstep—what soon became the routine.

But the routine changed when you grew a little fonder of Joshua when you lingered to leave when you were no longer in need of his services, when sometimes you sat in the passenger’s seat of his car to just sit and process, or to vent, or to just enjoy being in the company of another without the stress of a business agenda. When you finally talked freely about interests outside of this partnership you had with him. When he walked you to your door and had a little more to say, irrelevant to being paid—things as simple as sleep well, or stay safe, or until next time, things other than thank you for your business. When it seemed as though he was growing fonder of you, too.

And then, the door once cracked opened a bit more when a late conversation turned into a disagreement turned into something else.

You knew he’d been disgruntled with the inability to do anything about the situation, with the way the boundaries were teased and tested and Joshua’s investment in you continued to grow beyond the confines of said contract. It brought on a lot of tension between the two of you, as if there hadn’t been tension on car rides home after parties or showcases or reveals or fundraisers—it didn’t really matter, he took you to and from almost every event.

He was quieter than usual, something you tried to ignore as you tended the bruise against your arm from where you’d been grabbed multiple times throughout the night, mostly minding your own business and exchanged your attention between that and the passing of the city outside the car window. The air conditioning was cool on your skin, soothing on your feet from being pressed in heels all night that you’d slightly kicked off in a bit of relief before he finally broke the silence.

“When are you going to let me give him what’s coming?” Joshua asked you, his tone a little urgent, and startled you a little bit in the deep leather bucket seat of his car. “It’s been five months and time and time again you let him tug you around like a rag-doll and only half the time can I see the discomfort on your face, but a hundred percent of the time I can hear it when you grunt or wince or yelp.”

You sighed heavily—this wasn’t particularly a conversation you wanted to have.

“He’s within the contract,” you replied.

“Any malicious touch should be outside the contract,” he growled.

“Well then it’s a good thing you didn’t write it,” you replied as he pulled up to your place, shutting the car off after throwing it into park to walk you up to your door like he always did. You had a bottom floor apartment, which made slipping your heels back on and stepping out of the car less of a battle since you wouldn’t have to climb any stairs. Even though he was a bit put off with you, he still rounded the car to gently take your hand to pull you up from the seat, double-checking to make sure you had everything, and walked you up to your door.

“I wish I had,” he finally replied as you turned the key in the handle to tumble the look to unlock your door. “I wish I had because he would have stopped testing the both of us months ago.”

“That’s not your call to make,” you replied, grabbing the envelope that sat on the table just inside your doorway which already had a predetermined amount enclosed with his name written in fine script across it the same way that it always did. “I hired you to do a specific job, you agreed to adhere to the contract; if you don’t like the contract, we can discontinue this partnership at any time,” you finished.

Part of you couldn’t decide if he hadn’t heard anything you said, or if he was just taking his time to reply, because his gaze was effectively all over your face, refusing to reach up for the envelope. You could see the look in his eyes that generally meant he was thinking, but what came next you almost couldn’t prepare for.

Both his warm hands cupped your cheeks, tilting your head up towards his just enough for him to gracefully take your lips with his. Your back softly hit the frame of your door as his envelope crumpled in your hand, and you found yourself instinctively leaning up into his mouth while your free hand momentarily cupped the back of his neck before you came to and nudged him away.

“Joshua…” you muttered a tad breathlessly, breaking the kiss. There were a million things that should have been going through your mind at that point, starting with how unprofessional all of this was, continuing with the image you had to maintain and how this whole thing would interfere with that, and finishing with grappling with your feelings that were turning your stomach over like a fish on deck.

One of his hands had slipped away from your face to hold you steady, warm and wide on your hip, but the other continued to tenderly stroke against your cheek while you looked at each other. His envelope was still clutched in your hand against his side, your other hand sliding away from the back of his neck and down his lapel—you could push him away, you should push him away. You wanted to tell him how many problems this would cause, how complicated this just made everything, but somehow all you could think about was the glitter in his eyes, the mint tones of his breath, and the taste of his pomegranate chapstick.

He must have known it wasn’t a good move because he collected the envelope from your hand without much more delay for thought—your door was already open so he didn’t have to wait any longer as he bid you goodnight, reminded you to sleep well, and turned to be on his way. You found his name stuck in the back of your throat, dying to come out, but also dying to stay in. The implications of the situation swirled in your head, and you gave a rickety exhale before finding your feet enough to retreat through your door.

Business continued as usual, Joshua attended with you as usual, but the only difference was that you were getting progressively more infuriated with the way you were being treated as another month passed. The jig had to have been up, the publicity you were gaining from keeping up the relationship lie had to have faded by now, but the numbers didn’t lie. Joshua was still at your side, in the background, observing, wherever he needed to be to ensure his job was done correctly.

You had taken a nasty fall on one of the sets of a photo-op because of an impatient and tugging hand of the typical problem male. Joshua lurched from against the wall as you cursed, the floor hard against your knees, and you stayed on the ground for a moment while your nails clawed against the tile, pushing away the sting. A sweet voice whispered your name, and you knew who it belonged to, along with the hand that was extended in front of you. You stared at it for a moment before sitting up enough to dust your hands against each other, and daintily place one in Joshua’s large and warm one. He slowly lifted you to your feet, wanting to check your knees which were hidden behind a floral maxi-dress.

“Pathetic, can’t even get up on your own,” your ex-boyfriend spat in your direction, and the sigh that left your lips could have been a call from hell itself.

Your gaze turned up slowly, away from the ground, and up to his face like the inferno was ready to take him through the earth’s crust. There was a snarl turning at the corners of your nose, and it was clear as day you’d had it up to your eyeballs. Your hand gripped Joshua’s with all the strength you had, and he could only look at you, waiting for your cue, waiting for you to cut him loose before you brought your free hand up and clapped it against the side of the face of your unruly business partner. It was a sound that rang through the room, and by the sound of the cry that exited just a moment after, you caught him upwards on the jaw and probably snapped his teeth together.

He yelled profanities at you, but the exhaustion of his antics were clear in your eyes. Joshua snarled at him when he attempted to approach, but you almost begged for it.

“Do you want another?” you asked him, a tinge in your voice that startled even Joshua. The blood from your split knee was trickling down your leg at this point, you could feel it go, but your one hand clutched the hand it held unwaveringly.

The way your voice softened when you turned your head to speak to Joshua was like night and day. “My knees are bleeding,” you informed him, feeling them quiver as you continued to stand, bruising imminent. He didn’t hesitate to place your hand against his shoulder to slide around his neck and lift your legs out from under you. Your wicked ex-boyfriend took a step, but Joshua was quick and turned to check.

“Try me,” he growled and waited for an advance that never came before he turned to take you out of the room. One of the photography hands followed the two of you out with a first aid kit but stood aside to let Joshua take care of you. You pulled the dress up past your knees—it was worse than you thought. He requested some water to begin to clean your leg before cleaning the split that was already black and purple and swollen to the hills.

“You must have gone down pretty hard,” he commented, gingerly tending to said wound, but diligently nonetheless to get it cleared away enough to assess. At that point, all you cared about was the bloodstain on the knee of your pretty white dress. The pain was ignorable, your ex was ignorable, Joshua was mostly ignorable, but the pain you felt in your pride from letting him treat you like that which manifested in the stain on your dress was not. You looked at the stain with such disdain as you held it in your hands.

“I’ll get you a new dress,” he muttered after noting the look on your face.

“That’s not the point!” you yelled back harshly. He looked at you calmly, knowing your outburst wasn’t directed at him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied quietly and turned his gaze back down to bandage your knee, at least well enough to complete the shoot because he knew you weren’t going to leave without finishing it.

And so you did; the blood on your dress could be edited out, so that posed little concern. What did concern you, however, was the attitudes in the room and how they would shift. From then on, every move was checked with Joshua, both your eyes and your ex-boyfriend’s eyes meeting him if he ever even reached for you. Something in the way you’d whole-hand clapped him and the look on Joshua’s face after the fact—he had to have known at that point that he wasn’t ‘safe’ anymore. It was as if he could see that Joshua had been unclipped from the figurative leash.

You finished the shoot with no further altercations but definitely needed help with some of the positions as your knee was unable to bend certain ways anymore, for the time being. When the shoot was finally over, you stayed on the set couch for a lingering moment as Joshua gathered your things and brought them over to you, but not without clipping shoulders with the trouble-maker himself.

He had your duffel over his shoulder, creasing the jacket of his suit but refused to let you take it when he was able to get you on your feet again. You looked up at him with a scowl, almost as if to say that you could carry it yourself, but he gave you a skeptical look, not skeptical that you could carry it but that you were injured and he would just as well carry it for you.

You paid the photography crew your respects before beginning to hobble out of the set and eventually out of the building. Joshua offered you his arm as a crutch multiple times that you refused, stubbornly, until he’d finally had enough.

“Please take my arm, or I’ll carry you out of here,” he almost threatened as a gave a smile to the man at the security desk while you passed him, who gave you a curious look as you limped. You wanted to growl, but begrudgingly took his arm anyway; admittedly, it relieved some pain. He put your duffel in the back seat once finally arriving at the car and then opened the passenger’s door for you. Gingerly you lifted your damaged leg into the car first before all but falling in after it and let him close the door behind you.

As usual, he turned on the air conditioner a bit high—you needed to cool off after every interaction you had with your ex on any business excursion you needed to attend. You kept your rage entirely inside which boiled your blood and made your face hot and the cool air was quite helpful to bring it all back. Joshua delayed in starting the car for a moment as he looked over to you to make sure you were okay, but you ignored the pain in your knee and looked out the window, waiting for the car to start moving. He sighed, noting the bloodstains on the knee of your dress before finally bringing the car to life to take you home. It was already late into the afternoon, and he knew you’d want time to prepare dinner and shower and other things to relax for the evening, so he didn’t waste any more time.

He took you and your bag up to your front door the way he normally did, only this time with one of your hands wrapped around his arm to steady yourself as you hobbled slowly with your heels in your other hand before you were digging for your keys. Once your door opened, you threw your shoes in and took the duffel bag from him to toss that inside the doorway as well and reached for his envelope on the table, and turned back to him.

Joshua stood tall and respectfully the way he always did, alert with his shoulders square, hands clasps behind his back. Somehow his hair was always immaculate, his suit always pressed with zero hints of wrinkles, too professional; but his eyes looked at you softly, eyes you were looking into deeper and deeper every time you got the chance, eyes that captivated you like nothing else. You clutched the envelope in both your hands, a thought stirring in the back of your throat as you looked up at him.

“Joshua…” you started, trying to get the thought out as the envelope crumpled in your fingers.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied respectfully, only for you to remind him of your name even though you knew he hadn’t forgotten.

“I don’t pay you for this…” you started, crumpling the envelope a little more as you looked down at it, “but I would, if you wanted; I just don’t have any near family and I don’t want to be alone after all that and—”

“I’ll stay, for a bit, if that’s what you need. I’m here to serve you,” he replied, the tenseness in his shoulders dropping a little bit as his hands came forward to cup over yours, stopping you from nervously crinkling his envelope, “And don’t worry about compensating me.”

You weren’t sure how to reply as he finessed the envelope from your hands, setting it back down on the table you always retrieved it from as he walked you slowly back through the doorway of your apartment and kicked his shoes by the door. “Do you mind if I take my coat off?” he asked you, and you were a bit taken aback by the question—he was always dressed professionally, and this was the first time he would be taking his jacket off in front of you. All you could do was nod as you peeled yours off, too, a sweet dark washed cropped jean jacket.

At some point you remember getting him a glass of water, you remember excusing yourself to change so that you could spot treat your dress and assess the damage on your knee yourself as Joshua made himself at home on your couch. It was the first time Joshua would see you in more casual clothes instead of dolled up for some event, but it was fair because you were seeing him cut a little loose too. You remember flipping on the TV to drown out the somewhat awkward silence that loomed between the two of you for a bit, before agreeing on what to order for food. It was still a bit early for dinner, so some mindless TV was in order for a little bit. A part of Joshua had expected something else; maybe some feelings dumping or something similar, but he didn’t mind the fact that you just wanted to relish his company.

That didn’t stop him from consistently looking at you, consistently noting the way your eyes would get a bit glassy before being controlled—you refused to cry in front of him. He wasn’t there to comfort you, that wasn’t his job, and you didn’t want to make it seem like it was. But when you could feel him looking at the side of your face a little too hard, you turned to look at him with the intention of asking if he wanted to order food, but ended up getting trapped in his eyes again.

You could feel your breath hitch in your throat, meeting his gaze, but he didn’t seem surprised. His eyebrows rose for a split second, hardly even noticed as he looked back at you—your eyes were still a bit glassy from the forced back tears. He wouldn’t dare ask you to speak, much less speak about what was on your mind; he had unclear instructions of what he was there for, but it took everything in him to just sit there and say nothing, do nothing.

He took a leap, and reached over to retrieve your hand closest to him, which happened to be your left hand, and cupped it in both of his.

“I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through; I can’t even begin to imagine how hard and taxing it is, how unbreakable your resolve has been, how strong you have been, but I know that you are. I know that you are gracious and kind and patient. I know that you are so much than I get to see, so much more than anything he’d ever deserve.”

It was meant to be comforting, to be encouraging, and it was. Somehow, your fingers threaded between his and squeezed, trying to stave the tears that he had inadvertently pushed up to your waterline, and to avoid having him see them fall, you finally turned your face away from his.

“I’m going to order dinner, what would you like?” you asked, voice cracking a little as you quickly stood from the couch to the dismay of your injured knee as your hand left his. You quickly made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a paper towel to dab under your eyes, trying to save the makeup you had left. Vaguely, you heard him say something about getting whatever—he would eat whatever you ordered for him—and pulled out the small book of menus from nearby places.

Joshua sat on the couch, the lack of your hand between his somehow more intense when he knew you needed some comfort as he listened to you flip through some pages and eventually dial a number to place an order. He didn’t expect you to return immediately, or even within a reasonable amount of time, which was good because you didn’t. You continued to stand in the kitchen and grip the counter, pushing your tears back and back and back while trying not to agitate your leg too much; the burn was real from your rush to get up, so you stood on the leg that was still good and bent the other to give it a rest.

Eventually, he was going to have to check on you. He spent plenty of time glancing over to the kitchen to see if you were emerging yet, but it didn’t happen to be the case, so before too long he pushed himself up from the couch as he quietly cooed your name. You had just been rounding the corner out of the kitchen and he’d caught you by surprise, causing you to stumble over your own feet and crash right into him. His anticipatory hands were able to catch you, for the most part, one able to catch your elbow while the other controlled your fall into his body. Your hands were a little more unceremonious, one furling in the fabric of his white dress shirt and the other grabbing onto his bicep while you crash-landed into his chest, staggering him a bit.

It was the first time you were really getting a lungful of his fragrance, swirling around you like phantom chains. The first time you were really feeling the solidity of his body and how protective it was capable of being. The first time you were really feeling the largeness of his hands as he steadied your balance by hulling you up against him to set you fully back on your own feet, the second time his wide palm was placed against your hip, which brought back many memories of the first time just outside your front door. He could have been able to hear the way you swallowed, looking right at his throat, adorned with a perfectly knotted tie and a finely pressed shirt collar.

And for a moment, you stood there with complete silence looming between the two of you while your hands found a more comfortable place to rest which happened to be right on the curve of his chest while the other continued to hold his bicep. It was always hard to see under his immaculate jackets, but now that it was just his dress shirt and an undershirt, you could see the way your hands curved against him.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he finally spoke, throat shifting particularly with how low he was trying to keep his voice, his bicep flexing under your hand as his hands slid a little further around you.

“Thank you for catching me,” you replied, “so I didn’t have to fall in front of you, again.”

For some reason, that hit him painfully. He couldn’t decide if it was because he felt guilty for making you feel embarrassed about what had happened in front of him, or because he felt guilty for not being able to prevent it in the first place. Although it felt like a sting, he was fully aware that you were making no effort to move from his grasp which was still settled somewhat around your waist until you had decided it was long enough and shuffled out of his grasp.

Joshua never dared pry about what was on your mind, even as he continued to watch you push tears away. At one point, you did close the gap between the two of you on the couch and sat with him, hip to hip, at least until your food arrived. You ate quietly, really just relishing each other’s presence outside of business hours, and sometimes caught him looking at you a little too long which he would dismiss with a soft smile. But dinner was quick, and you were cleaning up almost as soon as you sat down, it felt. And the sooner you were done with dinner, you feared, the sooner he would leave and that just wasn’t a thought you were ready to deal with yet. You had been grappling with saying something, giving him anything about what was going on with you—he already had a pretty good idea and made that very apparent, but you got nervous and pulled away.

You cleaned up in the kitchen quickly and grabbed Joshua’s empty glass to refresh it after he insisted the water was perfectly fine, before joining him on the couch again. This time you’d switched over the TV to just play music which was also perfectly fine because it seemed to ease the tension that was bubbling between the two of you.

“You know, I know we’re not that close, and I know you hired me, but if there’s anything you want to say, or if there’s anything you want me to do—”

“Does that anything include hauling a body away?” you joked, trying to lighten the mood since it had been a little dark since you first invited him in. He seemed to find amusement in your joke because he chuckled.

“I just want you to feel comfortable with me, like you don’t have to tiptoe around me or like you can’t experience emotions in front of me—I couldn’t even detect a semblance of pain on your face earlier although I know it hurt,” he reminded you.

“I do feel comfortable with you,” you replied, driving the point home by subconsciously leaning over to cozy up to him, resting your head against his shoulder as you were already sitting hip to him. He seemed a bit shocked, jarring for only a moment before relaxing into the way you pressed against him. “If I didn’t, I would have gotten rid of you a long time ago.”

“Ouch, so expendable,” he jested, resisting settling an arm around your shoulder. He knew from the last time that there were lines that shouldn’t be crossed, even if you were crossing one right now. It was on you what to do, but he couldn’t just take a moment of physical contact as the go-ahead, especially as you pulled away.

“You’re off the clock; you don’t have to be so alert,” you finally added.

“It’s in my nature,” he replied quietly, his gaze casting from your lap and back up to your face. “I can’t help wanting to jump to your defense, even from the threat that’s in your head.”

“At least that tells me that you take your job very seriously,” you replied just as quietly, your voice fading off a bit at the end as his face neared yours a bit more.

“You asked me to come in because you didn’t want to be alone; I think that warrants attention,” he answered. He had a point, but somewhere in the feeling of his warm breath against your cheeks, that point was lost. You knew what was coming, but somehow didn’t have the mind to stop it, or the want to stop it from happening. Your fingers furled into the upholstery of your couch as he came into your space.

“Joshu—” you tried, but the tender way his lips touched against yours cut that off. There was a familiar touch of his fingertips against the cut of your jaw while his mouth gently slanted against yours. The sigh that exhaled through his nose was exacerbated as one of your somewhat panicked hands took a grip of his tie and tugged, encouraging him to tilt your jaw to his will as he readjusted the kiss.

He broke the kiss for a moment to gauge you, a little too in the moment to remember the first time this happened and what a mistake it was; somewhere in the back of his mind he knew the implications, he knew the conditions of your contract with the jewelry gig, he knew the media was keeping watch on your fake relationship, and he knew how much this was forbidden, but that only made him want it more. And you must have felt somewhat the same, because you leaned in to tease his bottom lip with your teeth, feeling the exhilaration of the fleeting freedom from that fake relationship against Joshua’s lips; the way the stress of all of that melted away at the taste of that familiar pomegranate chapstick. His breath was warm against your mouth, anticipating your next move but you made it clear you were waiting for him as you hesitated while his lip slipped from the gentle grip of your teeth and, tentatively, he took your bottom lip to swipe his tongue against it to delve into another forbidden lip lock.

Breathless, you gave a deep exhale against his mouth as you’d finally come to your senses. Somewhere in your subconscious, you knew the two of you were dancing around this chemistry because you knew it would have to be a secret. You’d had all the forethought in the world after the last time about any time you could catch him away from the crowd how badly you wanted to take the lapel of his coat in your hands and melt into him. The last thing you needed was for rumors to start going around about you and him, but in this very moment, as your lips trailed away from his to kiss against the line of his jaw, you seemed to care not. And you knew you would have continued to kiss down his neck the way you’d thought about more times than you’d like to admit out loud if you didn’t know better. But the way his breath hit the air and the way his head tilted back just a bit just begged for a little more.

“Joshua,” you whispered against the slender column of his neck, or what you could reach that wasn’t covered by his completely buttoned shirt as your lips slid up to his ear, “If you don’t knock it off, next time I might not stop.”

A shiver shot down his spine at just the implications of your words. He knew it was wrong, he knew it was complicated, but now he knew that you felt the same way he did, that you knew he just couldn’t help it. His breath hit the air in a huff, a semblance of a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips but it faded just as quickly as his head came back down to meet gaze with you.

“Maybe I don’t want you to,” he replied, the glimmer in his eyes like the entire galaxy condensed. You agreed on the conditions of your current situation from a simple look, but you could also tell in each other’s eyes how much that didn’t matter. All that mattered was not getting caught. All that mattered was that it was a secret. Even still, something ate at you about the riskiness.

You stood from the couch for the sole purpose of creating some distance before you completely lost your resolve, although it was still breaking the more you looked at his eyes, the features of his face, the curves and sharpness of his jaw, and his mouth which you were already so acquainted with.

It would be tough, but you knew already quitting Joshua would be harder already, so you both vowed to keep it as down low as possible, and that meant entirely in the ground in public of any kind.

That meant you attended galas and fundraisers with even more disinterest than you had before, and the tugging persisted but now you were being bombarded with questions about your fake relationship—you did your best to remain quiet and let the star of the show answer. You continued to work on designing pieces in the comfort of your apartment and develop them into fine pieces of jewelry and you were still raking in design rights left and right from a company you wanted to break from entirely. It was slowly becoming apparent that no matter what happened between you and Joshua, that company would owe you royalties for your designs, and undoubtedly would ask you to continue designing since you were the top contributor much to your partner’s dismay.

To do your best to avoid suspicion, Joshua often stayed behind at times he would have typically accompanied you. He spent more time playing wallflower than he was used to, especially as you were being bombarded left and right by people who wanted nothing more than your attention than to pick your brain about your designs, but despite the new dynamic of his investment, he was still your bodyguard. And the more he got invested, the more he hated seeing you put in that fake smile in the arms of a man he already detested; but he vowed to keep his word, and keep his word he did.

Some galas, you just couldn’t take it. Joshua always had a watchful eye on you when you were seated even while Mr. Self-Important was wandering about and entertaining guests, trying to butter them up for a sale or investment of some kind. Occasionally, you’d meet eyes with him before finding your way to your feet and began to weave through the crowd. It wasn’t unusual for him to follow you, as it was agreed he would be keeping eyes on you at all costs. You made your way through many hot bodies crammed in a too-small room as he tried to keep track of your head bobbing through the crowd before making it into a back room. Still, he followed the sound of your heels against the ornate tile. He followed you quite some time before leading him onto the balcony of a backroom you doubted anyone would be finding even if they were adventuring on their own.

“What do you think you’re doing, taking off like that?” he asked you a little roughly, trying to figure out exactly what was going through your mind to just get up and storm off as if that wouldn’t gather some attention.

“I can’t take it anymore,” you replied desperately, looking back at him as you exhaled sharply. The look in your eyes was enough, an inextinguishable fire burned in your very soul. He almost melted under that gaze, daring to shuffle towards you. You let the fresh air wash against the skin exposed by your evening gown—it was refreshing, to say the least; but the way Joshua was looking back at you made it hard to distinguish the cool air from the fire in your veins.

You begged to step passed him and return to the gala—being out here with him alone spelled bad news for the secrecy of your intermingling lives because you could tell the more that you looked at him, the more you couldn’t stop the way your gaze flittered down to his lips for only a moment before trying to recompose yourself. But you went to step anyway, not quick enough for his wide hands which strongly took your hips and backed you up against the railing of the balcony.

“Is that why you lead me out here? You had to have known I would follow you,” he asked, a ghost of a whisper in the slight breeze as he leaned down to capture your gaze again, bringing your eyes up to his and you could feel your breath caught in your throat, hands anticipatorily on his forearms through his suit coat.

You wanted to protest, you wanted to tell him this couldn’t happen—not here, not now. The way he continued to step closer to you made the lump bigger and bigger, making it even more difficult to get words out before he was leaned in too close, and only then were you able to squeak anything out.

“It’s dangerous,” you muttered against his mouth, the familiar taste of his pomegranate chapstick and the plush warmth of his lips against yours broke any semblance of control and your hands ruffled through the hair on the back of his head. It was feverish at first, as if you’d been deprived of him for so long before the actuality of his lips against yours, of his hands on your body tugging you into him finally set in and you calmed down; as did your hands which combed his hair back into place before sitting daintily across his broad shoulders until he broke the kiss off, hypocritically trying to remind you that you were still in public but it didn’t stop the way he placed gentle kisses against your forehead as you leaned into him.

His scent, which you had grown so accustomed to, seemed to be amplified in the quiet wind as you took a deep breath through your nose while his forehead found yours—your eyes remained closed, and it was the most serene moment you’d experienced at a gala to that day. Everything felt at ease, everything felt simple, everything felt right.

But in the following days, a different kind of panic was settling into you when your boss’s son showed up on your doorstep with the front page of a magazine with a photo of you and Joshua out on that balcony that night. He was red in the face, demanding an explanation from you about how you could be so careless, essentially informing you that he had already had ideas about you and Joshua but trusted that you wouldn’t blow the work you had going. The thought of being caught had crossed your mind on so many occasions, but late-night talks after late-night talk when he stayed over to calm your nerves, to rub your shoulders and shower you with kisses, you concluded—what were they going to do? What did you care about that fake relationship? What did you care about the publicity of a company you had no investment in other than design rights? Regardless of popularity, you would continue to get royalties from every sale of your designs.

“This is simply absurd; this is the last thing I had anticipated waking up to. This ruins so many things, in fact, it ruins everything! All the publicity we had going for this startup, you so selfishly ruined!” he screamed at you while you stood in the doorway of your apartment. For a moment, you didn’t care. He had screamed at you many times in the past, so you looked at him unfazed.

“I’m sorry, I’m the selfish one? I’m the one who demanded we keep up a fake relationship for a publicity stunt to… what… keep the jewelry line directly in the media at all times? I’m the selfish one?”

“You have gotten every last bit out of my family and this business and then you go and blow it, getting caught like a fool!”

Your knuckles were turning white with the way you were gripping them under your crossed arms as you looked at him. Your blood was boiling.

“I worked my ass off to provide your family with very successful designs for their line! Remind me again who’s the selfish one!” you spat back in his face, the burn on your tongue feeling like actual flames with how irate you were at this point. “And remind me, what have you done, at all? Have you made any contributions to this business other than providing the media a pretty face to look at?”

He pushed his hand against the door of your apartment and stepped towards you, enough for you to take a few steps back and unfold your arms in the case you had to defend yourself. And you would have, but the rumble behind you that was deep enough, menacing enough to open a rift in the earth’s crust came from behind you.

“Get out,” Joshua threatened, having been standing just behind the door to listen to the exchange. He wanted you to give you your space to deal with it on your own—you deserved to deal with it on your own; it was your position, your designs, your royalties, your contributions to defend. He was there, however, to defend your being.

“You! You are at least half the—”

“Get out!” Joshua repeated, taking a step forward before ripping the magazine from shaking fingers. “I don’t think I have to tell you again. Your little charade is done, and the only one who will suffer is you and you alone. Now get out, or I’ll escort you out.”

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer about this—”

“I don’t think that’s the route you want to go,” you interjected. “I own those designs; I am owed royalties on every sale of those designs; whether you like it or not, I have a legal cut of this company which is not contingent on how successful our media façade is. So, if I’ll be hearing from your lawyer about Joshua who has a legal and contracted right to remove you from my property, then you’ll be hearing from mine, who will bury you.”

There was a shakiness in your voice, indistinguishable between anger and nerves, as Joshua escorted him out of your home and slammed the door behind him. You stood just beyond the entryway, safe distance within your house to avoid any conflict, but your shoulders heaved. You could hear the heavy deadbolt flip, locking the door tight before Joshua turned around to face you. He gave you some space for just a moment, but he wasn’t too keen on leaving you standing there looking like the very life had been sucked from your bones for too long.

“It’s over,” he cooed to you, “you don’t have to hide anymore.”

Your gaze crossed the flooring to his feet and ran up his legs, up his body to his face. His mouth housed a tender smile, eyes soft as he looked over you, and somewhere deep in there he could see the relief, the surfacing of tension to let it all go, and for a fleeting moment, you granted him a soft smile as well before he wistfully crossed the floor to take you against his chest.

“I’m proud of the way you stood your ground. You’ll never have to stand it alone again.”

It seemed like a slightly inclined battle for the first month or so. You did hear from his lawyer, and he heard from yours, and it was a winning battle in court to discuss your role within the business. You came to an agreement to keep a position, much to the dismay of your now ex-business partner, and continue working on designs with minimal pressure, and that, the final marker of the decisions, was the nail in the coffin for all the tension to finally free from your body. You stood in a mostly empty courtroom in a fine skirt-suit as you awaited the verdict—you were too relieved to cry, but Joshua’s hand squeezing yours almost elicited those tears.

It wasn’t long before you moved in together to settle down.

You spent long nights sometimes in the studio working on big sketchbooks loosely doodling designs across the entire page. A lone lamp that illuminated a desk behind your easel was hardly enough to sustain healthy eyesight, but it never seemed to stop you especially when you were struggling to push sleep away from those eyes. Often, Joshua slipped out of bed to come find you, well into some hours after he’d retired for the night just to sneak into the studio behind you.

He watched the way your hand effortlessly moved across the page, flicking lines down on the paper to craft those rough sketches he knew would eventually turn into fine pieces of jewelry. You had a knack for it, serious vision for jewelry only the elite could afford.

“It’s not light enough in here for your eyes,” he whispered to you, rubbing his hands along your shoulders and upper arms before he’d dig his thumbs in.

“You tell me that every time,” you reminded him quietly, eyes closing to relish the way he pushed some knots away from your shoulders.

His chuckle was smooth in your ears, dripping down your spine like refined syrup before he pulled up a stool behind you and nestle his arms around your waist, leaving you free enough to continue to work on some sketches, but not without some attempts at wooing you to leave them.

“Come to bed with me,” he whispered just behind your ear, only to place a couple of kisses against your neck and nuzzle against your jaw.

“Five more minutes,” you replied, only to feel his arms tighten around you.

“I fell for that too many times; I’m not so naïve anymore,” he reminded you. “They’ll be here for you another day.”

“And so will you,” you answered.

“Ouch, so expendable,” he teased, knowing that you were teasing, too.

“Joshua,” you whined as he kissed down your neck and across your shoulder, only lightly clothed by a loose-fitting tee that was slouching off to the side anyway. But he wouldn’t stop. Especially not as he got up to flick the lamp off, the only light remaining for vision was the hallway light outside the door, which was enough for him to scoop you from your stool to bring both your legs up around his waist and your arms to dangle over his shoulders. He could feel the sleepiness in your body, but your stubbornness persisted as you protested some more. He carried you from the small studio room and down the hallway to flick the light off with his elbow before he was gently laying you in the cool sheets of the bed you shared with him, sealing off any further words with a couple of sweet kisses against your unsuspecting lips.

Despite all your hawing a few moments prior, the soothing sheets underneath you coupled with the warm body that was settling in next to you settled you quite a bit when he turned you into him and you settled into his shoulder, the same way you did every night.

#joshua hong #seventeen joshua #joshua scenarios #joshua fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #joshua angst #seventeen angst #joshua imagines #seventeen imagines #joshua oneshot #seventeen oneshot

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stranger-who-writes-fiction · 3 years

Text

Gonna make full use of my ‘comic rant’ tag and roast Future State: Superwoman.

Spoilers! And yelling! Of the disgruntled kind!

So a few things at the start here: 1.) I wanted to love this book. I wanted it to be great. I wanted to give it the benefit of the doubt, in spite of some iffy stuff in the solicit text. So this rant is not coming from a place of having decided this was going to be awful ahead of time. 2.) My tolerance for bad Supergirl comics is pretty high! Takes a lot for me to actually come out and say that a particular issue is trash. Reader: This story is trash.

It’s not ‘middle-aged white guys writing/drawing a story about sending a minor to a potentially hostile planet fully nude’ trash, mind you. It’s the compost bin, rather than the landfill. Slightly nicer trash, but it still stinks to high heaven. Allow me to expand!

PROLOGUE - SUMMARY: ...I actually can’t summarize this comic b/c it would devolve into a lot of senseless yelling. We’ll just have to tease out this terrible plot as we go along.

PART I - DEAD DOGS TELL BAD TALES: The comic opens with Kara standing at Krypto’s grave. That’s not why this comic is trash, but it bears mentioning. Because why. Why would you do this.

PART II - IN WHICH IT ONLY GETS WORSE: So, Kara has a running inner monologue, and the main thing we gather from Kara’s thoughts is that it was Krypto who taught her to be a hero. On paper, that sounds very sweet! In practice, it reads as Kara having no moral center whatsoever—whatever good qualities she might possess, she did not learn from her parents, or her foster parents, or friends, or fellow heroes. Nor do they come from within Kara herself. Nope, t’was Krypto who taught Kara not to be a jealous rage monster. That is not hyperbole--Kara’s walking around angry about her cousin all the time and she’s like, ‘It was you, Krypto, who taught me not to judge, and to let go of anger.’ Listen, I love Krypto, but this? This is, as the youth would say, a bad look.

PART III - THOSE CERTAINLY ARE...SOME THEMES: The set-up here is that Kara is on the moon, and has established a sanctuary for alien refugees. That’s a dynamite idea! I love that! Buuuuut Kara didn’t look at the plight of alien refugees and say, ‘I want to help!’ Really, she didn’t even look at herself and say, ‘I don’t want others to feel like I’ve felt.’ No, she said, ‘Earth won’t accept me as a hero, and Clark didn’t name me protector of Earth, so. I’m out!’ (Honestly, if your moral compass is so whack that you need a dog to walk you back from Hulk-Smashing...can’t say I blame Clark for not picking you, Kara!) But apparently, the people on the moon don’t really like her either. And it is literally never explained why. There’s a whole montage of Kara fixing stuff and saving lives and all the moon folk just glare at her. This makes both the moon people AND Kara look like a**holes, because they come across as ungrateful, and she comes across as a glory hound. Thanks! I hate it! So the ‘peace’ Kara’s found on the moon isn’t really peaceful at all, cause she still resents her cousin, and people still don’t like her, in spite of the fact that she’s constantly performing acts of service for them.

Also, side note, I’m just now realizing this is an entire population of alien refugees...and Kara is somehow still the odd one out. Like, Earth I get, because everyone else is a human and maybe freaked out by the super powers. But a bunch of aliens? WHY. Why did you do this. Why did this need to be set on the moon with alien refugees if you’re not going to interrogate Kara’s identity as an alien refugee herself AND all of the aliens are inexplicably humanoid in appearance and utterly ordinary in terms of power levels.

Like. This is not the CW show, where they have a budget, and a huge ensemble cast to serve. YOU HAVE NO EXCUSE. AAARRRRRGHHHH.

PART III CONT’D: There’s also this weird ‘birthright’ element introduced...like, Clark and Jon stole Kara’s ‘right’ to be earth’s defender which is...a terrible reading of Kara’s modern origin. It brings in the idea that Kara is a ‘chosen one’ and because she didn’t get to be that chosen one, all of her hero work is for nothing. Never mind the whole central conceit of what makes Clark and Kara heroic...that they have this incredible power, and choose to do good with it. Nah...it’s all about her ‘right’ to protect the people of Earth! And mean ol’ Clark took that away! THANKS. I HATE IT.

PART IV - A POOR USE OF SPACE: So, all of the Future State books kind of struggle with the issue of too much exposition, which is understandable. They have to introduce an entirely new status quo in a very limited amount of literal page space, so you *really* have to have a handle on how you allocate your time and focus.

Introducing a brand new, lore-heavy heroic character who gets all of the development and dynamic art and pulls focus away from the character you’re meant to be writing is a bad use of a two issue limited series.

Like, this is a crappy Supergirl comic but it’s a great backdoor pilot for a Lynari ongoing, I guess.

Imagine if in the Jon Superman book, they introduced a random, brand new best friend for Jon, and he got the big character arc instead of Jon. That’s something you save for an arc in an ongoing title, NOT A TWO ISSUE EVENT COMIC.

Back to said new character, there’s a lot of forced attempts to parallel Kara and Lynari, but Lynari’s backstory is so confusing, rushed, and poorly explained that it’s like: okay, they’re both...angry? And the moon jerks hate them? ...uh. Okay.

(I’m gonna bring back my ‘why is this set on the moon, even’ question so that my ‘poor use of space’ header becomes a better joke.)

PART V - I'M HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO...B/C THERE SURE AIN’T ONE HERE: I’ve already mentioned that Krypto was apparently Kara’s conscience so when Lynari’s aunt arrives to...kill them? (again, everything about Lynari’s backstory is rushed and poorly explained) Kara gets real mad and basically pulls a Gothel: ‘You want me to be the bad guy? Fine! Now I’m the bad guy.’ But thank goodness Lynari is there to tell Kara no! Don’t murder the giant aunt eel! Lynari then steals Kara’s powers and gives up the swamp jewel that’s been hidden inside their body and now their aunt is less murder-y!

WOW. Couldn’t even give the big damn hero moment to Kara in her own book, huh?

So the day is saved. It takes Kara a while to regain her powers, and it’s only then, when she’s no longer ‘above’ the moon jerks, that they’re like, ‘oh, we like her!’ There is a bit of narration about how that attitude is awful. But that narration is provided by Lynari. See, the inner monologue is no longer Kara’s thoughts, but rather it has switched to Lynari’s point of view. They’re telling us this story. And do you know why?

PART VI - WHY THIS COMIC *SUCKS*: KARA DIES. SHE’S THE FRIGGIN’ ‘SECOND GRAVE’ OF THE TITULAR ‘TWO GRAVES’

Fudge this comic to heck.

See, Kara dies on the moon, presumably of old age. She’s buried next to Krypto. And this random character who we’re suddenly supposed to care about tells us her story. Not Clark. Not the Danvers. Not Brainy. Not even one of the supporting cast members from her solo title. No one from Kara’s life is mentioned at all, save for Jon and Clark, and they’re pretty much relegated to flashbacks of Kara punching them.

PART VII - TIME TO COMPARE DEATHS, I GUESS: First and foremost can I just say that I hate that’s a sentence that I’m typing about Kara in the year of our lord, 2021. But okay: Kara’s big famous death in Crisis stopped the entire DC universe cold. Everyone paused in the middle of the destruction of the multiverse to mourn her loss and honor her (GENUINELY HEROIC) sacrifice. Clark and Barbara--two established characters with a strong connection/relationship to Kara--offered lovely eulogies.

This one: Kara gets to die of old age in obscurity after a lifetime of striving to be recognized and only achieving it by de-powering and serving a population of jerks.

Not the warm and fuzzy ending you think it is!

(Meanwhile, Clark lives for millennia and spawns an entire dynasty of Els, all of ‘em out there, protecting the cosmos. I was looking forward to House of El in the hopes of maybe seeing some Kara stuff but NOPE. Thanks to Superwoman, we’re probably not gonna see any future Kara stuff beyond this! G R E A T)

And like, the argument could be made that this ending makes Kara happy. This is the life she chooses! She wants to be alone and garden on the moon! Except, we get zero insight from Kara regarding the remainder of her life. We only have Lynari’s narration and some montage shots...nearly all of which focus on other characters. But honestly, even if we did get Kara’s side of things, I doubt it would shed much light on her feelings, bEEECAUSE...

PART VIII - SUPER BLAND: This Kara really has no personality outside of ‘detached and vaguely bitter.’ I like Sauvage, I think she’s an incredibly talented artist, but here, Kara is stiff and her expression often reads as aloof. She’s very pretty, but it comes at the expense of being expressive. (And I know Sauvage can do expressive stuff...because Lyanari gets to be expressive.) Like...I love that shojo manga vibe but this is a Kara devoid of spark and warmth.

...Like...Melissa Benoist’s portrayal of Kara is right there...

I’ve already sort of touched on this but her inner monologue doesn’t have much personality either. She’s just parroting the same, ‘I need to do as Krypto taught me!’ nonsense for both issues. Until, of course, we shift to Lynari’s narration, and lose Kara’s thread entirely.

PART IX - LET’S WRAP THIS UP: This book frustrates me to no end because it had a lot of stuff going for it. It’s got a female writer and artist--still a rarity for the Supergirl book--it’s a limited series mostly free of continuity and character baggage, and it’s not tied down to the grimdark cyberpunk stuff happening in the Gotham books. YOU COULD’VE DONE ANYTHING. And, once again, DC goes with a pitch that’s: Kara is angry, Kara resents Clark...and Kara dies.

It’s also happening...right as Kara has no dedicated ongoing title, the movie’s been shelved, the TV show is entering its sixth and final season, and all promotion has shifted to new CW and HBO shows.

*screams into the void*

MAAAAAAN I hate this book. I hate that it retroactively makes me hate the Andreyko run a little bit--a run that I took to be about a traumatized young woman forced to confront her grief, and who leans on a beloved animal companion for comfort. Here, Krypto is L I T E R A L L Y the reason Kara’s not constantly frying folks with her heat vision.

I hate that this book has made me use the word ‘literally’ so much in this rant.

I hate that this could possibly be more in continuity than Millennium.

Remember Millennium? Where Kara was in like...five pages? And she was warm, and kind, and promised to help Rose because it was the right thing to do, and oh yes, WAS PRESIDENT OF EARTH?!??! AND A CLASSY OLD LADY!?!?!?!?! WHO WAS STILL ALIVE AND KICKIN’ IN THE FAR FLUNG FUTURE!?!?!?!?!

I hate that I’m using my lunch hour to rant about how much I hate this comic.

I hate that DC editorial seems hell-bent on erasing the interesting aspects of Kara’s character to sand her down to ‘the angry one’ or ‘Batman 2.0′

PART X - LET’S END ON SOME (?) POSITIVES: Don’t read this book! Don’t do it! Don’t waste your time and money!

Instead, check out ANYTHING ELSE. If you want mom!Kara, read Tom Taylor’s ‘Last Daughters of Krypton’ in the DC Nuclear Winter special. If you want heroic oldlady!Kara, read Millennium. Honestly? Pick up anything by Bendis that has Supergirl in it. It is miles away better than this. You want angry Kara working through her grief? Andreyko, Red Lantern, even Infected. ANYTHING BUT THIS. HECK, grab Superman of Metropolis instead! That has bad Kara characterization but at least she doesn’t end up dead.

Anyways. This comic is bad. I wish it wasn’t! And this is now the SECOND TIME IN A ROW that Kara’s book ends on a terrible note before the character disappears from monthly comics for an unknown period of time.

*screams into the void again*

#SG post #future state #future state superwoman #comic rant #and oh it is a RANT

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sunriseverse · 4 years

Note

rec listtttttttttttttttttttttttttttt

fair warning there’s a lot of different fandoms here—i have, uh. twenty-two pages of bookmarks. lots of newmann though, i promise. in no particular order, i give you a fic rec list

the future’s owned by you and me by kaiyen (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 7k, Not Rated)

Years after they stopped writing each other, Newt and Hermann run into each other on the steps of Cambridge University Library. Quite literally.

Newt stares at him, expecting more. He doesn’t get any. “Come on, man, who are you? Maybe I’ve read something.”

I doubt it, Hermann barely catches himself from saying. “Gottlieb. Hermann Gottlieb.”

And Newt looks like he’s struck oil. “Oh my god,” he says, and something flickers behind his eyes, like there’s more than just recognition there, and before he can wonder any more about what it is, Newt blurts, “Oh my god!” and Hermann flinches and makes a face like a disgruntled frog.

What you can expect: emotions, opprotunities missed, and opprotunities taken. I absolutely adore this fic, though I might be biased by the fact that it has Newt as bipolar, and that’s something I always crave (more bipolar Newt fic when???).

Survival is for Nerds by Annabeelee (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 46k, Teen and Up)

It's three hundred and two years after humanity lost to the Kaiju and two hundred and twenty one since the Kaiju left. Not that it matters to Hermann. In relation to following a neurotic genetic experiment across whats left of the Northern American continent while dodging alien predators and hostile subgroups of humans, its possibly the least helpful thing to keep in mind.

What you can expect: scifi, tension, and a very intersting world. Post-apocalyptic, technically, but the way it’s written makes it almost hopeful. I love how the setting and writing makes it feel like a blend between victorian steampunk and futuristic in tone.

people can surprise you (or not) by pdameron (James Bond, James Bond/Q, 10k, Teen and Up)

“I’m not you, Bond. I don’t exactly have a technique for getting rich strangers to like me.”

“Just do your naive cute puppy thing, and they’ll be doting on you in no time,” Bond replies as he pulls up to the grand estate.

“My what?” Q asks incredulously. Bond doesn’t answer, simply giving him an indulgent smile. The fucker.

(or: 00q meets Gosford Park. Except not really.)

What you can expect: humour, murder, and some light espionage. Also, fake dating.

Infinite Distance by lachatblanche (X-Men, Erik Lensherr/Charles Xavier, 7k, Teen and Up)

When they encounter an unfamiliar and seemingly-abandoned ship in the middle of nowhere in space, Captain Charles Xavier of the spaceship Graymalkin heads out to investigate.

What you can expect: drama! Intruige! It’s set in space! I read this a while ago but I have memories of it being rather riveting despite the relatively short length.

Gertrude’s Goulash by lollzie (Gotham, Edward Nygma/Oswald Cobblepot, 7k, General Audiences)

Ed needs a new roommate. Oswald needs a room. Oswald may just be the most amazing person Ed has ever met. Shame he's not single. Cue wooing via the medium of cooking.

What you can expect: pining, misunderstandings, obliviousness, and a lot of goulash as a method of romancing.

Death Of The Author by happygolovely (Gotham, Edward Nygma/Oswald Cobblepot, 9k, Mature)

Edward Nygma was never intended to be anything more than a secondary character.

The Riddler demands otherwise.

What you can expect: a story within a story within a story. You think you have it figured out, and the next moment the carpet is yanked out from beneath you. Fairly dark, possibly disturbing, but my goodness if it’s not engaging.

we make our friends, we make our enemies by ORiley42 (Mission: Impossible, Benji Dunn/Ethan Hunt, 52k, Teen and Up)

Benji finds out he has a new neighbor. This new neighbor happens to be off-the-charts hot. Hijinks, friendship, more-than-friendship, and secret agent drama ensue.

What you can expect: pining. There’s spy stuff going on too, and it eventually gets brought up, but my gods, the pining. Also, it’s fucking hilarious, and, at just over fifty thousand words, the perfect read when you’ve got an hour or two and you want something that’ll make you both laugh and cry.

Self-Sabotage by EmilyweepsforPilfrey (James Bond, James Bond/Q, 2k, Teen and Up)

For some reason, whenever he's alone with Bond, the most ridiculous things come out of Q's mouth.

Or 'the one where Q accidentally invents a girlfriend'.

What you can expect: Q being an utter idiot. It’s hilarious. Nice quick bite of humour if you fancy it.

The Long Con by harleygirl2648 (Hannibal, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, 19k, Teen and Up)

There are two kinds of cons: long and short. Short cons mean short-term gain, with smaller rewards, mostly just everything you have in your pocket at that moment. Long cons mean lots of time, effort, costumes, masks, props, sets, and other characters all looking to set up the downfall of the mark and take them for all that they've got.

Con Artist/Thieves AU: Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter are both interested in acquiring a Botticelli, but both of them are quite fond of each other's short games. For both of them, it's the deception and thrill of the game that's worth more than the payout.

And well, after all, aren't the easiest people to scam are those who think they are smart enough to not get scammed?

What you can expect: no cannibalism, a lot of banter, and, of course, con artistry. Quite delightful if I do say so myself.

deus ex machina by coloredink (Hannibal, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, 26k, Teen and Up)

"What the hell?" said Katz. "Is that--"

"Yeah, I know, it's kinda flashy." Will shut the car door behind him and patted his pockets for the little fob to lock the car.

"Isn't that Hannibal Lecter's car?"

The car beeped to indicate it was locked. "Yeah, I guess so." Will walked away, toward the field, Katz on his heels. "I needed a new car."

"So you bought the cannibal car?"

-----

You asked for it: the one where Hannibal is a murderous self-driving car.

What you can expect: what it says on the tin. Quite funny, especially with the element of magical realism meaning Hanni-car is sentient. The Hannigram is more vaguely implied than an actual thing, owing, probably, to the fact that Hannibal is, well, a car.

adapt, evolve, become. by peupeugunn (Alex Rider, Gen, 3k, Not Rated)

“This is how you get out. You're slowly moving towards a desk job.” A pause, then, “you know, most people do it the other way around.” Alex chuckles softly and and shuffles towards him to lean against his shoulder, burrowing into the crook of his neck. Ben’s arm winds around him, shields him from the world, a solid weight on his back. “You're going to miss the adrenaline rushes, kid.” There's something almost sad in his voice. Alex doesn't want to understand why. Down that road lies madness.

What you can expect: a character study, in a bit of a roundabout way.

A Sharp Dressed Man by Avelera (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 12k, Teen and Up)

Hermann's latest book needs an author photo. However, when he's given a makeover and a suit that actually fits for the photo shoot, his appearance is so transformed that Newt mistakes him for his (much hotter) older brother, Dietrich.

Hermann decides to play along.

What you can expect: gods this fic is so good. It’s the first Newmann fic I ever read, and I’ve reread it a good six times since 2018. I would say more, but I think the fic speaks for itself.

Gestures by Actually_Crowley (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 7k, Teen and Up)

Newton finds out what Hermann does with his rare free time, but the discovery leads him to believe that Hermann honestly and unequivocally hates him.

What you can expect: the rituals are fucking intricate. I love this fic so so so much. And the eventual reveal/confession...scream.

Fate’s Horrifying Ways (also known as: CHRISTMAS GODZILLA) by linearoundmythoughts (Pacific Rim, Newton Geislzer/Hermann Gottlieb, 4k, Teen and Up)

Your name is Newton Geiszler and you’re going to have to break things off with your sort-of online boyfriend because you’re cheating on him. Sort of. [AKA the most dramatic summary of a humorous crackfic ever ok]

Originally written for the Pacrim Secret Santa back in 2014.

What you can expect: first off, it’s not second person, I promise. It is, though, really fucking funny, owing to the misunderstandings that ensue. There’s much pining, some angsting, and, of course, humour.

Letters From Berlin by spenshi (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 12k, Teen and Up)

Newton keeps in touch with his family when he's shipped off to the Shatterdome. Jacob and Illia send care packages to the K-Science Lab.

What you can expect: Geiszler-family feels. A lot of them. Also, Newt and Hermann slowly growing closer to until they can finally admit they’re into each other.

Wishbone by cypress_tree (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 8k, Teen and Up)

Hermann doesn't have anywhere to go for Thanksgiving, so Newt invites him over for food, family, and a little bit of flirting. Just a warm, fuzzy college AU to get you through the holidays.

What you can expect: fluff, softness, general feel-good fic. It’s really good, and it has Geiszler-family feels. Reading this fic is a bit like drinking hot cocoa on a cold day.

next days by catbeans (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 5k, Teen and Up)

Hermann had never felt an ache quite like this one, and he had felt plenty. He had been running on adrenaline first, and then on the necessity to keep running, pain and bone-deep exhaustion falling to such a low priority that he couldn't even consider it one anymore, and then it had stopped.

(the 18 hour nap date these guys deserve)

What you can expect: Newt and Hermann cuddling. A lot. That’s really it, that’s the fic. It’s 100% indulgent and I love it for that.

Tebori by SkysongMA (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 7k, Not Rated)

Newt squints. "It's really not a sex thing? 'Cause I'm not opposed to it being a sex thing, mind you. I just don't want to come in the lab tomorrow and not get to throw things at your stupid face."

Hermann lets out an endless, long-suffering sigh. "It's really not a sex thing, Newton, honestly. We hate each other. That's worked out very well for us so far, and it will continue to work out for us in the future." He doesn't mention that they haven't always hated each other and that, at one point in their long relationship, showing up unannounced at Newton's door for the purpose of sexual favors would not have been so far out of the realm of possibility. Had been, in fact, one of those things Hermann had considered late at night long ago, when he couldn't go a week without a fat envelope in the mail full of Newt's ramblings.

But that was quite some time ago, and he means it. They each get more work done than they would ever have separately, even if only because they like to rub their progress in the other's face.

Anyway, admitting anything different would just give Newt ammunition

What you can expect: Newt gives Hermann a tattoo. There’s a lot of feels.

Newt Inherits a Bar by orphan (Pacific Rim and It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 11k, Not Rated)

The scary part is the bar looks exactly like Newt remembers.

What you can expect: you’ll probably tear up a bit. This one hits pretty hard, honestly, but it’s so, so, so good.

First a Darling, Then a Marvel by isozyme (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 20k, Mature)

Newt runs a simulation given three constraints:

1: Newt wants to clone a kaiju 2: Hermann does not want Newt to clone a kaiju 3: Newt is going to clone a kaiju anyway

What you can expect: a lot of sciencing, a lot of feels, and two repressed idiots. There’s like, a paragraph or two of smut but it’s pretty clear when it’s going to happen so it’s easy to skip, which is great. The tl;dr of this fic is Newt clones some kaiju, Hermann reminds him how fucking horrible of an idea that is, and everything more or less works out in the end.

Tea and Sympathy by osprey_archer (Torchwood, Owen Harper/Ianto Jones, 13k, Teen and Up)

Soon after Jack's disappearance, Owen takes sick. Ianto goes to check on him.

What you can expect: crabby doctors, put-upon Welshmen, and a fuckton of emotions that everyone is trying to ignore. Not particularly happy, but then, when is Torchwood ever? It’s good while it lasts, though.

Pareidolia by hal_incandenza (Pacific Rim and The Black Tapes Podcast, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 102k, Mature)

It starts as a profile of paranormal investigator and professional skeptic Dr. Hermann Gottlieb. But it seems the further journalist Newt Geiszler delves into his cases, the more mysterious Dr. Gottlieb becomes. What is he hiding? What is he looking for? What is the truth? What is the difference between a journalist's idea of truth, and a scientist's?

Seeing is not believing. Believing is believing.

What you can expect: suspense, mystery, horror, pining, and apocalypse cults, with a dash of an ambiguous ending. I love this fic so much. I literally would stop what I was doing to read it when I got an alert that there was an update when it was still a work in progress.

Meet Me There Across The Water, And We’ll Start An Endless Storm by Skepticamoeba (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 35k, Teen and Up)

Hermann, an honorably discharged veteran has retired to continue working as a Keeper at a Lighthouse. It is perfectly solitary, and with little in the way for incidents. Newton is the sailor that washes up on the seashore after a summer storm.

[Late 19th century Lighthouse Keeper AU--or the one where Hermann was an aspiring artist whose dreams got a bit derailed, and Newt is the sailor that needs to learn to take his time with things.]

What you can expect: the pining........the intricate rituals............the denial.........*chef’s kiss*

and I couldn’t whisper when you needed it shouted by Lvslie (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 24k, Teen and Up)

He still smells like Newt; bears traces of his recent nearness. Clothes sleep-wrinkled from the proximity, from the way Newt’s ankle has during the night hooked around the calf of Hermann’s good leg and dragged his whole body seamlessly closer. Cheek half-flushed from the face unconsciously nuzzled his into the side of Hermann’s neck—evidence of his presence, fast asleep, as Hermann lay still and fretful for hours an end, staring at the ceiling and feeling sick with wanting.

[An early 20th century AU inspired loosely by Maurice and Age of Innocence.]

What you can expect: wistfulness, pining, repression, denial, lots of feelings. You’ll probably tear up. There’s an achingly happy ending for both of them. This is one of the fics I want a hard copy of so I can mark it up because, fuck, I love it so much.

leave the car running by Macremae (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 1k, Teen and Up)

It is clear that, after everything, Newt doesn't like to be touched.

What you can expect: touch starvation, mutual pining, Newt finally getting the human contact he deserves. I wrote my own version of this since it was initially a prompt, but quite frankly, I like Newton’s version better because it hits.

The Man Who Invented Sherlock Holmes by Calais_Reno (Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, 15k, Teen and Up)

John Watson, struggling young doctor, doomed to live an ordinary life, dreams of writing detective fiction. If he can just figure out his hero's name, the story will practically write itself.

What you can expect: Watson sort of, kind of, maybe invents a man into being. Oops. I haven’t read this one in a while but I remember it being quite a lot of fun. There’s elements of what I would say is probably magical realism, but it’s never quite clear.

Newton Isn’t Dead by Macremae (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb and Vanessa Gottlieb/Karla Gottlieb, 32k, Mature)

Newton Geiszler is currently being possessed by a genocidal alien race known as the Precursors. They’ve taken over his body, leaving him a prisoner in his own mind. However, Newt has a totally awesome plan. He’s going to make a deal with them: let him prove that Earth is worth saving, and if he can’t do that, they can have his body. But convincing a hivemind full of mega-colonizers that one blue planet can be wonderful isn’t going to be easy. He’s going to need the help of his kind-of-ex Hermann, his best friend Vanessa, and one awesome Footloose remake to pull this off.

So, naturally, they go on a road trip.

What you can expect: pining, world-saving, eventual confessions and happy endings. I had the great honour of reading the chapters before they were published, and this fic is one of my top five favourite fics. There were multiple points where I yelled, both literally (quietly) and through text (slightly less quietly).

it takes time, but time moves slow by prettydizzeed (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 2k, Teen and Up)

Hermann conducts a cost-benefit analysis every class period of sitting in the back of the lecture hall versus walking down the stairs to the front. He wishes he had hard data for this, to get some actual statistics, and perhaps after a while, if he records his pain level and his ability to read the board and pay attention after each class, he will be able to predict the outcomes given either choice on a particular day.

Two curves, traveling in opposite directions, inversely proportional: pain goes up, concentration goes down. It’s comforting, somewhat, to make it a numbers game. Impersonal. Absolute. Not a tragedy, and not his doing, only his to interpret, a smudged scrawl across his left knee in an unfamiliar handwriting, his to analyze, to decrypt.

What you can expect: the fic may only be 2k, but it will leave you feeling like you were punched. It’s fantastic.

I Could Be Jew-ish For You by Macremae (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 10k, Teen and Up)

When Hermann agrees to spend Chanukah with his family in an attempt to wheedle some desperately-needed funding out of his father, Newt insists that he shouldn’t face Lars alone and tags along as his “emotional support family rage distraction”. What they fail to realize are two things: 1. When Hermann brings Newt with him to the festivities, assumptions will be made, and 2. Newt may be half-Jewish, but he sure wasn’t raised as one.

What to expect: fake dating fake dating fake dating— (can you tell I have a favourite trope?) In which Newt is Jew-ish, Hermann is both exasperated and pining, Lars is disliked, and we all get the Jewish romcom we deserve.

It Was Love At Second Sight by rednights (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 35k, Teen and Up)

Hermann receives the first letter when he is eighteen years old.

or: Kaiju don't attack the Earth, but Hermann and Newt still write letters, botch their first meeting, and fall in love, not necessarily in that order.

What you can expect: feels. So many fucking feels. There’s no kaiju but that doesn’t mean you won’t be on the edge of your seat.

hello my old heart by firebirdsuite (The Magnus Archives, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, 15k, Teen and Up)

Peter’s wrong, of course. When it’s all over, Martin does still want to tell Jon everything. It’s just—well, there’s a few things they need to work through first before they can get there.

Martin and Jon find each other again in Scotland.

What you can expect: tenderness, domesticity, and love. The perfect trifecta.

the truth about me (and the truth about me) by danimagus (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 11k, Teen and Up)

Newton suffers from a bout of memory loss and is told Hermann is his fiancé.

Hermann plays along, to his endless shame.

What you can expect: two words: fake dating. Gods, I love this fic, as Mary can attest from how I unceremoniously started screaming at her about it in her tumblr messages the day of/after it was published. This fic is great because it subverts the trope a bit, and thus avoids issues of consent that may otherwise have occured.

speak right to my heart without saying a word by thekaidonovskys (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 13k, General Audiences)

“Your eyes. Your expression. Your smile. I’ve worked with you for ten years, Hermann, and words have never been our primary method of communication.”

What you can expect: to be knocked the fuck out emotionally. This one hits pretty hard, and that’s what makes it so good.

Transducer by hal_incandenza (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 85k, Teen and Up)

“I need you to hide something for me.”

“Oh, excellent. Of course, Newton, please allow me to jeopardize my career. And yours as well. My pleasure. Do go on.”

“Yeesh, relax,” said Newton. “It’s a personal thing, not a work thing.”

“As if there is any division between the two,” Hermann snapped.

If only you knew, Newt thought.

What you can expect: intruigue, alien tech, light espionage. This fic will have your little nerd heart beating double-time. It’s very very good.

A Really Private Person by astolat (Person of Interest, Harold Finch/John Reese, 18k, Mature)

The end of the world started on a Wednesday in March.

What you can expect: badassery on Finch’s part. One of the few fics I have bookmarked for this fandom, and it’s bookmarked for good reason.

Party For Two by ProblemWithTrouble (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 18k, General Audiences)

“My mother’s parents have a home in the Black Forest that has a guest house. They’ve often allowed me to stay there when I could spare the time.” Hermann looked distant as if he were remembering something; the warmth of a fire and a nice book and the smell of freshly made tea. “It will be quiet, and possibly too boring for you-”

“It won’t be. I could use some quiet after the decade we’ve had. I could actually compile my research. And sleep. It sounds amazing.”

After the world doesn't end Newt and Hermann take a vacation together to live in a cabin and finally relax, as friends. Cue the pining, the longing, and the living together as best friends.

What you can expect: a fic that will wrap you up like a warm blanket. Mutual pining, vacationing together in a cabin, lots of feels—what more can you want?

Dream Drifting by MooseLane (Pacific Rim and Inception, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 5k, General Audiences)

"You're running an extraction on that spastic PPDC biologist, is what I hear." Chau fixes him with a side-eye. "I know I wouldn't want to go poking around in that little bastard's head."

(There are not enough Inception x Pacific Rim crossover fics, so I decided to change that.)

What you can expect: Inception meets Pacific Rim. There’s no other way to say it, really.

I’ve Got Nothing To Do Today But Smile (The Only Living Boy In New York) by gyzym (Inception, Arthur/Eames, 19k, Teen and Up)

Arthur's a corporate lawyer, Eames owns the coffee shop across the street, and all good love stories start with a quadruple shot latte.

What to expect: Arthur is stressed, Eames runs a coffee shop, and, through the power of friendship and a lot of stress-baking, everything works out happily for our intrepid protagonist.

Kalimat/كلمات by rainbowagnes (The Old Guard, Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicolò di Genova, 3k, Teen and Up)

Yusuf translates medical texts for Niccolò from Greek and Persian into Arabic, and Niccolò spots the substratum of the ideas of the classical authors that he had once believed the basis of his own civilisation that he would go to the sword to defend, translated and passed down and sewn into a no longer foreign script. There are words Yusuf does not know how to translate. They will never, ever know all of the words. The prospect is thrilling. --- It takes Niccolò lifetimes to learn Arabic.

What you can expect: if you, like me, are, especially natively, multilingual, this might hit the sweet spot of Language Feels. It did for me. Also, Joe calling Nicky hayati? Yeah.

i never liked that ending either by Macremae (Pacific Rim, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb, 15k, Mature)

You want a better story. Who wouldn’t? - Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out

Once upon a time Dr. Flick Tucker, K-Sci head of Biology, fought a bunch of highly scientific dragons to save the world. Then, they took over her life. It didn’t end well.

Once upon our time Dr. Newt Geiszler, marine biologist, sci-fi aficionado, and accidental discoverer of dimensional travel, got a chance to take her place. He has a couple of ideas.

In which Uprising is still a bad movie, musings on the nature of choice and personal autonomy are made, and somewhere, probably, a coin is showing heads every time.

What you can expect: everything’s fine this is a perfectly normal fic come here i want to cause you as much emotional damage as I can

Not Allowed by acedott (BBC Merlin, Gwen/Morgana, 1k, General Audiences)

Gwen has been dealing with self-imposed touch starvation since she was a child. Morgana sets out to challenge this.

What you can expect: gays. Pining. Touch starvation. Need I say more?

Rocky Horror Pancake Show by ChuckleVoodoos (Daredevil, Matt Murdock/Franklin “Foggy” Nelson, 19k, Teen and Up)

Foggy falls asleep at exactly 12:00 AM, and he’s making a wish. He wakes up at 12:00 AM too—twenty-four hours before he fell asleep.

"Let's do the time warp again!"

What you can expect: Ground-hog Day style time-loop, lots of fluff, and a happy ending.

Ain’t No Nancy Kerrigan by cleverqueen (DC’s Legends of Tomorrow, Leonard Snart/Mick Rory, 13k, Teen and Up)

It's 1994, and young Lisa Snart's jumps aren't strong enough for an Olympic singles skater. Thankfully, her older brother has an athletic friend who can match her in pairs.

Mick Rory is hopelessly in love with Leonard Snart, though he'd never say anything about it, so he jumps at a chance to do Len's little sister a favor. If he's patient and works hard, maybe he'll even get to skate with her older brother.

What you can expect: pining, ice-skating, and general goodness. It’s fun, it’s funny, and it has a happy ending.

#rec list #ask #a good 40% of these are mutual pining but really who's surprised. i love a good mutual pining fic #hopefully all these links work because i spent. an inordinate amount of time compiling this.#let me know if any of the links need to be changed #c.txt

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courtorderedcake · 4 years

Text

Majestically Too Far Beyond, CSSNS 2020

Emma Swan is a Witch who has made (And apparently makes) bad decisions. Helping a desperate Witch out of a weird situation doesn't seem like a bad decision, even against her, runes, a tarot reading and her friend's Snow druid intuition - until it is and the consequences are very real.

Killian is a Demon with a long history of persecution against him, and his denizens are not much better off. His Angelic brother is on a mission to rehab Demonic image to prevent violence on the streets of Hyperion Heights, as some sort of Holy mission deeply rooted in millenia of guilt. Witches and Warlocks use them for parts, Werewolves see them as a threat, Angels mostly still hold on to the ancient feud regardless of their treatise, Fae stay chaotic neutral, Vampires don't care for others affairs - it's a perilous world where hate crimes happen without consequence. After a disastrous meeting, he attempts to drown his frustration with a trip to the bottom of a bottle, but ends up falling in bed with a mysterious Witch in her tower home. Soon he's missing a hand, has only the vaguest idea of what happened from the mess of blood he's woken up to, and a mirror shows that some strange, different, Witch is pregnant with his child.

RATED M for Mature Themes. Written for @cssns 2020 Beta’d by The best team ever ( @jarienn972 @ultraluckycatnd @donteattheappleshook) and Art by @kmomof4

Read on Ao3 HERE. 1 | 2 | 3

Chapter 3 : The Beautiful Synchronicity of the Heavenly Trio

Belle's book store was in a quiet part of the city, just before downtown started. It was all dark colors and paneled wood, her fortune well spent on classical decor and furnishings. Vampire regulars read old favorites or exchanged valuable collections knowing that in Belle's care, nothing would ever harm them.

Belle herself seemed slightly perturbed when Emma, Snow, and David visited. It was raining, adding gloom to the shadowed storefront. Belle, who was usually dressed in the highest of couture with no hair out of place, looked frazzled to say the least. The rich velvet curtains were drawn at the windows, and Emma winced as she stepped onto the alcove just off the stairs. A sudden pain inched up her belly, discomfort making her hiss out a quiet curse. Looking down at her feet, she kicked salt aside, surprised at the cramping pain it had caused. It eased as suddenly as it came, Belle quickly replacing the salt with a disgruntled fierceness.

Belle ushered them indoors hastily, looking over their shoulder as they moved inside. "He didn't follow you, did he?" she hissed. Her fangs were still bright in the dim light.

Emma shook her head, confused. "I don't know what you're talking about; we're just here because I thought you might help me summon -"

Belle growled low in her throat, and Emma took a step back with wide eyes. David stepped in front of her protectively.

"She's looking for a particular Demon. A Killian, I believe the name was," David stated, and Belle's hostility melted away.

"I'm sorry, I just - it's complicated but I don't want to lose this round with him," Belle mumbled with a light laugh that had an edge to it. She began to move, picking up books and putting them in David's arms. "Not that you even know what I'm talking about, or who, so just forget about all that shall we? Yes? Alright -"

"Belle, are you alright -" Snow tried to ask, but Belle whirled to look at her and they all froze.

"I'm fine. Just dandy. I just - I hate losing, especially to that smug asshole," Belle gritted out. "And if it's not him, it's the other smug bastard, which seems to be my type."

"Um," David gulped, holding the stack. "I thought you liked type O."

Belle blinked, before breaking into a sincere grin and laughing. "I'm sorry. I am truly - I can't tell you how apologetic I am. When you live as long as I have, things just get… they get complicated. You make deals with people or play stupid games -"

"And win stupid prizes," Emma finished, looking at her feet.

"Yeah," Belle sighed. "Let's move this to the back; we can work from there."

Belle nodded to a door, David following them carefully with the stack of books, as they entered a study. Belle waved her hand, conjuring a flame in the fireplace.

"I never tire of being a Witch and Vampire. This little group of ours is everything I have ever wanted, or needed," Belle murmured, spreading out the books she took from David's arms. "I really don't want that to change, so if anyone asks you about me…" Belle paused and mumbled something, a bag of powder gently floating to the table. "Don't let them know that you know me. Es[ecially if they seem eager, or are a Demon. I'm not losing this time."

"Ohhhh Kay?" David said weakly, looking confused.

"I wouldn't do that," Emma shrugged, "But for real, are you alright?"

Snow looked in Belle's direction with the same concern Emma felt. Belle stiffened, then let out a long hiss of air.

"Let's just say that everyone has their Demons."

(Emma needed no superpower to hear the truth in her words, or how it applied to all of them)

They prepared in silence for the most part after that, questions here and there about where to place or pour what or the amount. The circle glowed a slight blue when it was completed, the wood gleaming in its light.

"Alright. Get ready," Belle whispered.

Emma, Snow, and David stepped back as Belle stepped forward with her book in hand.

Her voice rang out in foreign tongue, but not at the same time, a curved slur of words that felt like rain pouring on them inside. Emma could feel the ground pulse, feel the pull of something, more than expectation and more than any sort of connection she had felt before. Falling backwards, David caught her and held her up right, just as Belle's words reached crescendo.

The room went pitch black, and Emma felt something staring at her, felt it so acutely she could almost make it out in the dark.

( Tall, with raven hair, and she can see him reach forward as if he's trying to grab her hand, his mouth is saying something but she can only see how long his nails are, the flash of dark horn and blue tinted skin that shimmers - )

As if she had blinked, the lights were back and the circle had faded, its light gone.

Emma looked around, and then to Belle expectantly.

"What -" Emma squawked out, her mouth suddenly very dry.

"Did you give me the right name?" Belle asked, her brows furrowed.

"Yes, I'm sure it was Killian or Florian, or maybe Caspian -"

"So, you don't actually know then," Belle sighed, her look of annoyance half amused. "Because this should have worked. There's no way to just dismiss a summons. I mean, there is, but it's not something pleasant or that is common. So, we can keep trying with Caspian or Florian, but -"

"No. No," Emma rubbed her stomach, looking at just how much she had grown. "If he - if it doesn't want the baby, then this is enough."

Belle nodded. "Alright. If you're sure?"

"I am. I can't - I can't keep doing this."

David pulled her into a hug, Snow and Belle following behind.

Belle let them out, carefully pouring more salt along the entrance of the door as they left. They took a taxi home, Emma dropped off first at her porch as the taxi bumped down the gravel towards the farm.

Once inside, Emma took off her shoes and immediately went to the special door she had placed in the hall on the upper level, closing it firmly behind her. Her door.

(I am enough. I have always had to be enough. This time isn't any different.)

ﾟ・. ｡・. *✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ*⛧*.・｡*ﾟ.★.・.・✫*.・。.・゜

The station provided a safe haven for Emma on days she worked, the work menial and repetitive. Her coworkers were nice, Ruby worked nearby and joined her and Elsa for a weekly lunch, and Emma found enough time to put her feet up if she needed to. The baby made her feel sluggish, exhausted even. Her once daily cup of coffee had switched to a decaf with a splash of regular, and she could feel it.

It was odd to think that Liam worked in the massive complex, but Emma was thankful for small favors as they came. He either wasn't aware of where she worked, or Graham was keeping him on a short leash as to not alert her coworkers. She could see how the news of the new secretary not only being associated with Demons, but pregnant by one, could put a damper on their current kind behavior. Liam could continue flooding her mailbox with demands to register herself and child on some bizarre list, or his belligerence regarding his insistence she give the child up if she didn't terminate - as long as he stayed the fuck away from them in person.

When the crackling page system had come through her intercom, Emma had almost jumped a foot in the air in surprise.

"Miss Swan, to examining room F. Miss Swan, you have pick up in examining room F."

This was rare, but occasionally she had to walk to pick up files somewhere in the building. Usually it was meeting rooms or HR, but Emma knew where the questioning and examining rooms were - all the way toward the back of the building.

The hallway was bright, the lights buzzing loudly overhead. Emma's stomach lurched slightly, the feeling of being watched following her to a bathroom where she lost the contents of her stomach. After touching up, the pit in her stomach remained despite its emptiness. Chalking it down to the unease of being watched by something, Emma hurried to pick up her files. Opening the door labeled 'F' and rushing in to examine the table where the files sat, she jumped at the sound of the door closing behind her.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to do these files another time, Miss Swan." Liam's wings were flexed, blocking the door completely and corralling her toward the table. She stumbled back to sit on the metal chair there, Liam pulling another over to sit across from her, his eyes all cold fire. "I have some questions for you I'd like answered."

"You can't do this to me, I'm working-"

"I can, unless you want this to become an arrest." Liam shrugged, crossing his leg. "Do you like jewelry, Miss Swan? My girlfriend, she loves necklaces, but not bracelets. Do you have the desire to make me wait, so you can show up back here in some, let's say, silver cuffs?"

"I don't know what your problem is with me, Detective, but I am the victim here. I am the one who was pretty much raped, I'm the one dealing with this pregnancy, I'm the one getting yelled at by pre-fall, toga wearing women through someone's dead mom to get a name -"

"Were you successful? If the father is pre-fall, we're dealing with a very powerful Witch and an ancient Celestial. There are numbered few left, especially amongst High Demons - it narrows the list to handfuls. It's all the more proof that you are lying." He stood, turning to examine something on the evidence board.

"No. Yes. I don't know. It was a mess, a woman named Milah answered Cora -"

Liam's head snapped around, his bloodshot eyes bulging as he stalked back toward the table.

"Milah? Did you say Milah?"

"Yes, and Cora gave me random information, worse than usual, but -"

"Sod whoever Cora is - What did Milah say? Tell me!"

"I am, um -" Emma bit her lip, trying to remember. "She said something about a tower and a mirror, but she was more upset about the father. He had been her lover before she died -"

"Bloody hell, what - did she say a name? I need a -"

"Yes. Um, it was unique. I remember that I thought it sounded strong, but beautiful. Florian? No, it started with a hard C, Caspian maybe. Colin?"

"Killian," Liam breathed out, as if all the air had left his body.

Emma snapped her fingers, looking at him with surprise. "That's it, Killian. Do you know him? Is it possible that he could be the father? I really did try summoning him, and there are witnesses that will confirm it failed if you need their testimony… "

Liam didn't answer, his jaw setting as his fists balled. His wings ruffled, spreading wide and his gaze narrowed to stare angrily at her, face transforming into one of pure rage as he threw the table aside, the floor pulling up with it where it had been bolted down. Emma shrieked, shielding herself as Liam moved closer, the heat in the room rising rapidly.

"You are under arrest, Emma Swan. Know this: if you have harmed my brother, nothing in Heaven or Hell will stop me from tearing you limb from bloody limb."

There was a blinding flash and the sound of a thunderclap that felt like it rattled the earth itself. When Emma's eyes adjusted, she found herself in a windowless concrete cell that was all too familiar. Her whimpers echoed on the walls as she curled up on the uncomfortable plastic cot, gently rubbing her bump, glad only that this time she wasn't alone.

ﾟ・. ｡・. *✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ*⛧*.・｡*ﾟ.★.・.・✫*.・。.・゜

Emma woke to a door appearing, muffled yelling on the other side of it causing her to cower in alarm on the thin bunk of her cell. When it flung open to reveal Elsa, Graham, and Liam, Emma breathed out a sob of relief as her friend wrapped her in her arms.

"Shhh, it's okay Emma, it's alright," Elsa whispered, holding tight. She shifted her head slightly, and her voice fell into a low growl. "How dare you. I swear Liam, you are lucky I don't make an inquiry to take your job. I - I can't -"

"Elsa, she knows where Killian is. If she hurt him, if either of you hurt him I'll…" Liam trailed off, and Elsa let out a disgusted scoff.

"Emma would never," Graham interjected, his own voice cold with rage. "You are way out of line here, Jones. I've let you work this even with your personal connection, and that's on me, but for you to imprison an innocent, pregnant Witch without any proof?" He ran his hand through his hair shakily, Elsa nodding along with his points.

"Come on, Emma. It's alright, let's get you home," Elsa murmured, helping her to her feet. Liam made a noise of protest, but Elsa glared at him with such vehemence that it was quickly swallowed. "Graham, take Emma. I'll be along shortly; I just need to tie up some loose ends here."

Graham pulled Emma into his arms, hugging her to him with a firm nod, helping her through the door. They appeared back in her apartment, Emma breaking into tears the moment she felt the cool, non-sterile air hit her face. Her magic roared back to life outside of the cell's confines, the baby immediately pulling it in to itself greedily as Emma fell back onto her couch.

"Shit, Emma, you don't look so good," Graham said, his eyebrows knitting together in concern.

"I think I need to eat something," she rasped, pointing to the cupboard. Graham pulled out a lone box of Pop Tarts, wrinkling his nose.

"You should actually eat something. Not just -" he tried, but she held up a hand without a word as he opened her cupboards. The deep feeling of unease washed over her, the Ghost back again to stare.

"Uggggh," Emma groaned. "Please, get out and go away, I can't deal with you too!" Graham looked at her quizzically, looking around while he brought them over.

Savoring the fruit filling and frosting of the snack, Emma almost missed Elsa's return from the holding cell. Elsa was always just as guarded as Emma was, a fortress with thick walls that were built from sheer disappointment. It surprised her to see her icy friend smudging her eye makeup in quick swipes, before regaining composure.

"Elsa?" Emma whispered, watching her friend jolt and rush to her side. "Are you alright?"

At Elsa's approach, the laser focused ghost burning a hole through her disappeared.

"Oh, yeah. Don't worry about me, are you okay?" Her dark blue eyes were glassy, lips pressed thinly together. "Liam had no right to do that, Emma. I'm so sorry for ever thinking he was a good or just soul. I never meant to put you at risk."

"I'm just happy to be out of there. I think… I think he thinks that I hurt his, um, brother?"

"Yes." Elsa hesitated. "His brother is missing. He's been missing for a few weeks now."

"That's awful. I just don't understand why that involves me, unless….?"

"Liam believes that his brother is in danger, and was taken against his will. With you suddenly pregnant in these bizarre circumstances, he sees you as a common enemy."

"I didn't do anything! The ghost probably has something to do with it or -" Emma protested, before Graham interrupted.

"Ghost?" He asked, confused. "Emma, there's no Ghost here, I would have felt it or seen it. You're definitely not being haunted." He chuckled quietly as if the notion was ridiculous, stopping to cough when the two women glared at him.

"Something wrote on my mirror, and keeps watching me, okay? I can feel it watching, it gives me goosebumps!" Emma hissed.

Elsa's brow knitted in concern. "Emma, you've been under so much stress lately, just - more than anyone deserves. It's alright to not be okay. Everyone knows we Witches got the scraps of the gift barrel with just magic. If Graham didn't see or smell any ecto-"

"I swear, I'm not imagining things!" Emma gritted out, anger rushing back.

"No one said you were, OK?" Elsa soothed. "Just, get some rest…?"

"Fine, just go." Emma mumbled, sitting down into a slump with her head in her hands.

"Emma, please," Elsa sat next to her, trying to settle her shaking hands. "I'm not trying to make this into an argument, I'm simply worried about you, your baby, is… It's different, and we just don't know so much about it. Liam needs to be stuffed but he's scared, and that in turn scares me. He told me about this bonding, and how much it can change a person - "

"My child is not your concern either, Elsa." Emma hissed, glaring at her friend. "How about all of you stop showing so much concern, especially when it's like this. I mean, who needs enemies! Am I right?"

Elsa's face fell, her expression cold. Emma knew that her point had hit home, the woman's eyes going glassy.

"I think I'll just get Miss Frost here home," Graham said after a moment of tense silence. Elsa nodded with a sniff, Graham helping to lead her out of Emma's home. "Call Ruby tomorrow please, she'll probably even come over with bear claws if you do. Not that you need incentive."

Emma smiled thinly, Graham and Elsa stepping outside only to disappear seconds later. If she had the clearance to poof everywhere, would it still seem so obnoxious? Rubbing her stomach, she decided not to dwell on that question or any of her feelings surrounding her friend trying to preach.

(Titania's left tit, drinking sounded nice.)

(But then again, so did a foot rub, Chinese food, onion rings, and not having to drink ginger potion to hold down her lunches)

The knock on her door in the later evening should have been enough to dispel any reason to answer, but Emma was spoiling for a fight, ready for Elsa or Snow; or even Regina, Ariel, and Anna to be behind the wood.

Her breath would not come when Liam's glare was on the other side, waiting for her.

"I need your expertise." Liam said coldly.

"And I need you to leave," Emma spat, her knees shaking. "Immediately."

"The father of your child - I believe he is my brother, and I also believe that you are the only one who can help me find him. I need your help -"

"Do you not have the word leave in your language?" Shouting, Emma felt as if she might snap in two. Her heartbeat physically hurt as it hammered on, as if it was trying to escape her chest. "Get off my porch, and get lost!"

"This is his. It's his spyglass, and I need you to locate him with it."

"Yeah, about that. I don't feel you're really getting what I'm saying , buddy , so let's go over this again," Emma hissed lowly, advancing on the Angel. "One, I tried to locate the father and summon him, but it failed. If by some miracle your brother knocked me up, this shouldn't work if a summoning didn't. Two, I don't want anything to do with you or your brother. So leave."

"The funny thing is, I have a good friend of the family, a Demon friend of Killian's. He goes by the name Scarlett, and he's well embedded into the courts. He owed me a favor that I have cashed in recently."

"That's nice, but has nothing to do with me. So yet again, please leave immediately - "

"The search warrant for your property will be ready tomorrow, and I would absolutely loathe it if a reformed criminal such as you was found with illegal paraphernalia and contraband. It would be so disappointing for the Storybrooke Coven, don't you think?"

Emma sputtered, incredulous. "Are you blackmailing me?"

"I like to think of this as looking out for your best interests."

"I don't even have anything illegal!" Emma squeaked.

"Sure you don't, but I do ." He smirked, crossing his arms across his chest. "An entire evidence warehouse of it, actually."

"You bastard!"

"So, Ms. Swan, a location spell if you will."

Emma took the bronze telescope in her hands, the cool smoothness of it tingling in her palms. She sucked in air as it warmed against her fingers, a strange sense of desperation falling over her. Framing magic and molding it around the cylinder, it glowed a gentle blue before floating slowly towards her window where it bumped against the glass.

Liam nodded. "Alright, let's go."

"Let's go?" Emma asked, incredulous. She scoffed when he nodded again, gesturing towards the door.

"After you."

"You must be out of your mind if you think I am going anywhere with you after you arrest me, wrongfully imprisoned me, and now are blackmailing me -"

"The funny thing about blackmail," Liam interrupted, towering over her, "Is that it still applies to further tasks I ask of you. Are we clear, Ms. Swan?"

Emma glared, brushing past him with her head bowed. Stepping outside into the cool air, she took a steadying breath.

"You can drive." Liam motioned to her yellow bug, sitting in the dirt patch she called a driveway. "Let's go."

She opened the doors, Liam cramming himself and his wings inside the small car with her. Despite everything, Emma snorted, his scowl and discomfort giving her a small bit of vindictive pleasure. The spyglass sent them through the city's glimmering night scene, winding them towards the segregated neighborhoods, then veered to send them out of the heights and along the thickly wooded coastline.

Liam became more tense every minute that ticked by, his jaw set as he ground his teeth. He startled when Emma spoke, sending her veering into the next lane before she corrected on the empty stretch of road.

"Merlin in slippers, what is wrong with you?" Emma panted, gripping the wheel tightly. "I just wanted to tell you that I need to stop and get gas!"

"Fine, then do it, but bloody well don't kill us!" Liam hissed, mumbling under his breath about how he should have flown. They stopped at a gas station where Emma filled the tank, Liam stretching as she used the restroom and bought herself a candy bar. They were back on the road shortly, veering off onto a dark road.

Emma chewed her lip nervously, the bug's headlights doing little to cut through the pitch blackness that the canopy of towering trees created. It wound and curved downward until they were in a valley, a rocky wall on one side that curved to reveal a solitary structure bathed in shadow. Nearby, a waterfall roared. A tall tower made of stone jutted up into the night. In the briefest slip of starlight, Emma could see the red shingles at its spire's top, and the moss that grew on them. A light was lit in the only window far above the ground as they pulled up, and Emma's headlights illuminated the base of the pillar.

Cutting the engine, the spyglass bathed the car in bright blue, desperately bumping against her windshield.

"I'd safely assume that we're here," Emma whispered, casting a sideways glance at where Liam was prying himself out of her car. He looked at her expectantly, and she sighed, yanking off her seat belt in irritation. The night had gotten colder, her breath standing out against the sky in puffs of vapor.

"There's no door," Liam grunted, spreading his wings out. "So, shall we?"

Emma looked at him, realizing what he expected. "No, no, I am nauseous as a default, don't you dare -"

Liam's arm snaked around her waist as she protested, then they were lifting into the air with one powerful flap of his wings. Emma shrieked, tightly shutting her eyes until her feet found purchase on a smooth floor. She stumbled forward clutching her stomach and heaving.

"What is wrong with you?" Emma screeched, Liam ducking into the tower behind her. "How dare you -"

"I would do anything for my brother," Liam hissed. "That's something you will never understand."

A new voice broke into their argument, the shaky exclamation drawing both her attention and Liam's immediately.

"Thank the bloody stars, Liam is it really you?"

A Demon stood before her, pushing out of a strung hammock. Emma felt something shift, the air in her lungs leaving in one great whoosh of exhale.

"Killian," Liam breathed out.

#Courtorderedcake #September #2020 #September 10th 2020 #Captain swan #captain swan au #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan fic #cssns #cs fics with liam #CS FF #CS FF AU #My writing #10th

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