#and?? he said he had an opportunity to learn cutting edge from a different country and i assume that's frezier

[sylhea-raemi]

everyone in team 9 is special you have chief of the twilight clan's daughter, scarlet witch's reincarnation, ruschia's next possible king, and nero pachelbel

[tmctales]

The Connection PT 1

Chapter One: The Arrival

As the sun peeked over the horizon, casting a warm glow over the velvety green fairways of "The Connection," Francis Green stood in awe at the entrance of the legendary country club. The allure of this place had drawn him from afar, and now, as he stepped onto the hallowed grounds, a mixture of excitement and nervousness coursed through his veins.

He adjusted his high-tech smart golf cap, which displayed real-time wind speed and direction, and clutched his sleek, graphite smart golf bag, adorned with the emblem of "The Connection." It was a gift from his late father, a renowned golfer in his own time, who had regaled Francis with tales of the club's greatness.

As he walked toward the grand clubhouse, Francis couldn't help but take in the majesty of the surroundings. Towering palm trees swayed gently in the breeze, and a waterfall cascaded down rocks, creating a soothing symphony that provided a perfect backdrop to the harmonious world of golf.

Entering the clubhouse, he was immediately greeted by a friendly face at the reception desk—a holographic concierge. "Welcome to 'The Connection,' Mr. Green,” the hologram said with a warm smile. "We're delighted to have you with us today. May I assist you with anything?"

Francis thanked the hologram and confirmed his tee time for the day. He was scheduled to play with a group of members he had never met before, but he relished the opportunity to connect with fellow golf enthusiasts.

As he made his way to the locker room, Francis couldn't help but marvel at the blend of classic golfing memorabilia and cutting-edge technology. The locker room's wooden furnishings exuded a sense of tradition, while the interactive screens on the walls displayed the day's leaderboard and provided helpful tips for mastering the course's challenges.

Donning his golf attire, he could feel the anticipation building within him. The locker room buzzed with excitement as players prepared for their rounds, sharing anecdotes of their previous games and discussing strategies for tackling the course's unique obstacles.

When the time came, Francis joined his fellow golfers at the first tee. The group comprised individuals of varying ages and backgrounds, all brought together by their love for the sport. As they exchanged introductions and handshakes, Francis sensed an immediate camaraderie, a shared understanding that transcended any differences.

Their caddies, equipped with advanced AI technology, handed them their selected clubs, perfectly tailored to their playing styles. Francis’s caddie, named "Ace," was an autonomous wonder, boasting an array of sensors and a cheerful personality that instantly put him at ease.

As they embarked on the round, Francis couldn't help but be enthralled by the course's splendour. The floating greens, seemingly suspended in mid-air, posed a challenge that tested his precision and focus. The holographic water hazards, though not wet, appeared so realistic that he instinctively hesitated before each shot.

With each swing of the club, Francis immersed himself in the game. The lush green fairways stretched out before him, beckoning him to embrace the spirit of competition and to lose himself in the joy of the sport. Despite the occasional misstep, he found himself adapting to the innovative challenges, learning from each experience and growing as a golfer.

The sun climbed higher in the sky, and the group moved from one hole to the next, each offering its own unique surprise and breathtaking scenery. At the turn, they paused to refuel at the clubhouse's avant-garde restaurant, where holographic waiters attended to their every need.

As the round neared its end, the group gathered on the eighteenth green, feeling both exhilarated and sad that the experience was drawing to a close. The game had created a bond among them that transcended the boundaries of time and space, as if they had known.

Written on

August 3rd, 2023

5.30am (United Kingdom Time)

TMarsh-Connors©

[littlemixnet]

To me, a good ally is someone who is consistent in their efforts – there’s a difference between popping on a pride playlist or sprinkling yourself in rainbow glitter once a year and actually defending LGBT+ people against discrimination. It means showing my LGBT+ fans that I support them wholeheartedly and am making a conscious effort to educate myself, raise awareness and show up whenever they need me to. It would be wrong of me to benefit from the community as a musician without actually standing up and doing what I can to support. As someone in the public eye, it’s important to make sure your efforts are not performative or opportunistic. I’m always working on my allyship and am very much aware that I’ve still got a lot of unlearning and learning to do. There are too many what I call ‘dormant allies’, believing in equality but not really doing more than liking or reposting your LGBT+ mate’s content now and again. Imagine if that friend then saw you at the next march, or signing your name on the next petition fighting for their rights? Being an ally is also about making a conscious effort to use the right language and pronouns, and I recently read a book by Glennon Doyle who spoke of her annoyance and disappointment of those who come out and are met with ‘We love you…no matter what’. I’d never thought of that expression like that before and it really struck a chord with me. ‘No matter what’ suggests you are flawed. Being LGBT+ is not a flaw. Altering your language and being conscious of creating a more comfortable environment for your LGBT+ family and friends is a good start. Nobody is expecting you to suddenly know it all, I don’t think there’s such a thing as a perfect ally. I’m still very much learning. Even recently, after our Confetti music video I was confronted with the fact that although we made sure our video was incredibly inclusive, we hadn’t brought in any actual drag kings. Some were frustrated, and they had every right to be. You can have the right intentions and still fall short. As an open ally I should have thought about that, and I hadn’t, and for that I apologise. Since then I’ve been doing more research on drag king culture, because it’s definitely something I didn’t know enough about, whether that was because it isn’t as mainstream yet mixed with my own ignorance. But the point is we mess up, we apologise, we learn from it and we move forward with that knowledge. Don’t let the fear of f**king up scare you off. And make sure you are speaking alongside the community, not for the community. Growing up in a small Northern working-class town, some views were, and probably still are, quite ‘old fashioned’ and small-minded. I witnessed homophobia at an early age. It was a common thought particularly among men that it was wrong to be anything but heterosexual. I knew very early on I didn’t agree with this, but wasn’t educated or aware enough on how to combat it. I did a lot of performing arts growing up and within that space I had many LGBT+ (mainly gay) friends. I’ve been a beard many a time let me tell you! But it was infuriating to see friends not feel like they could truly be themselves. When I moved to London I felt incredibly lonely and like I didn’t fit in. It was my gay friends (mainly my friend and hairstylist, Aaron Carlo) who took me under their wing and into their world. Walking into those gay bars or events like Sink The Pink, it was probably the first time I felt like I was in a space where everyone in that room was celebrated exactly as they are. It was like walking into a magical wonderland. I got it. I clicked with everyone. My whole life I struggled with identity – being mixed race for me meant not feeling white enough, or black enough, or Arab enough. I was a ‘tomboy’ and very nerdy. I suppose on a personal level that maybe played a part in why I felt such a connection or understanding of why those spaces for the LGBT+ community are so important. One of the most obvious examples of first realising Little Mix was having an effect in the community was that I couldn’t enter a gay bar without hearing a Little Mix song and watching numerous people break out into full choreo from our videos! I spent the first few years of our career seeing this unfold and knowing the LGBT+ fan base were there, but it wasn’t until I got my own Instagram or started properly going through Twitter DMs that I realised a lot of our LGBT+ fans were reaching out to us on a daily basis saying how much our music meant to them. I received a message from a boy in the Middle East who hadn’t come out because in his country homosexuality is illegal. His partner tragically took their own life and he said our music not only helped him get through it, but gave him the courage to start a new life somewhere else where he could be out and proud. There are countless other stories like theirs, which kind of kickstarted me into being a better ally. Another standout moment would be when we performed in Dubai in 2019. We were told numerous times to ‘abide by the rules’, which meant not promoting anything LGBT+ or too female-empowering (cut to us serving a four-part harmony to Salute). In my mind, we either didn’t go or we’d go and make a point. When Secret Love Song came on, we performed it with the LGBT+ flag taking up the whole screen behind us. The crowd went wild, I could see fans crying and singing along in the audience and when we returned it was everywhere in the press. I saw so many positive tweets and messages from the community. It made laying in our hotel rooms s**tting ourselves that we’d get arrested that night more than worth it. It was through our fans and through my friends I realised I need to be doing more in my allyship. One of the first steps in this was meeting with the team at Stonewall to help with my ally education and discussing how I could be using my platform to help them and in turn the community. Right now, and during lockdown, I’d say my ally journey has been a lot of reading on LGBT+ history, donating to the right charities and raising awareness on current issues such as the conversion therapy ban and the fight for equality of trans lives. Stonewall is facing media attacks for its trans-inclusive strategies and there is an alarming amount of seemingly increasing transphobia in the UK today and we need to be doing more to stand with the trans community. Still, there is definitely a pressure I feel as someone in the public eye to constantly be saying and doing the right things, especially with cancel culture becoming more popular. I s**t myself before most interviews now, on edge that the interviewer might be waiting for me to ‘slip up’ or I might say something that can be misconstrued. Sometimes what can be well understood talking to a journalist or a friend doesn’t always translate as well written down, which has definitely happened to me before. There’ve been moments where I’ve (though well intentioned) said the wrong thing and had an army of Twitter warriors come at me. Don’t get me wrong, there are obviously more serious levels of f**king up that are worthy of a cancelling. But it was quite daunting to me to think that all of my previous allyship could be forgotten for not getting something right once. When that’s happened to me before I’ve scared myself into thinking I should STFU and not say anything, but I have to remember that I am human, I’m going to f**k up now and again and as long as I’m continuing to educate myself to do better next time then that’s OK. I’m never going to stop being an ally so I need to accept that there’ll be trickier moments along the way. I think that might be how some people may feel, like they’re scared to speak up as an ally in case they say the wrong thing and face backlash. Just apologise to the people who need to be apologised to, and show that you’re doing what you can to do better and continue the good fight. Don’t burden the community with your guilt. When it comes to the music industry, I’m definitely seeing a lot more LGBT+ artists come through and thrive, which is amazing. Labels, managements, distributors and so forth need to make sure they’re not just benefiting from LGBT+ artists but show they’re doing more to actually stand with them and create environments where those artists and their fans feel safe. A lot of feedback I see from the community when coming to our shows is that they’re in a space where they feel completely free and accepted, which I love. I get offered so many opportunities to do with LGBT+ based shows or deals and while it’s obviously flattering, I turn most of them down and suggest they give the gig to someone more worthy of that role. But really, I shouldn’t have to say that in the first place. The fee for any job I do take that feels right for me but has come in as part of the community goes to LGBT+ charities. That’s not me blowing smoke up my own arse, I just think the more of us and big companies that do that, the better. We need more artists, more visibility, more LGBT+ mainstream shows, more shows on LGBT+ history and more artists standing up as allies. We have huge platforms and such an influence on our fans – show them you’re standing by them. I’ve seen insanely talented LGBT+ artist friends in the industry who are only recently getting the credit they deserve. It’s amazing but it’s telling that it takes so long. It’s almost expected that it will be a tougher ride. We also need more understanding and action on the intersectionality between being LGBT+ and BAME. Racism exists in and out of the community and it would be great to see more and more companies in the industry doing more to combat that. The more we see these shows like Drag Race on our screens, the more we can celebrate difference. Ever since I was a little girl, my family would go to Benidorm and we’d watch these glamorous, hilarious Queens onstage; I was hooked. I grew up listening to and loving the big divas – Diana Ross (my fave), Cher, Shirley Bassey, and all the queens would emulate them. I was amazed at their big wigs, glittery overdrawn make-up and fabulous outfits. They were like big dolls. Most importantly, they were unapologetically whoever the f**k they wanted to be. As a shy girl who didn’t really understand why the world was telling me all the things I should be, I almost envied the queens but more than anything I adored them. Drag truly is an art form, and how incredible that every queen is different; there are so many different styles of drag and to me they symbolise courage and freedom of expression. Everything you envisioned your imaginary best friend to be, but it’s always been you. There’s a reason why the younger generation are loving shows like Drag Race. These kids can watch this show and not only be thoroughly entertained, but be inspired by these incredible people who are unapologetically themselves, sharing their touching stories and who create their own support systems and drag families around them. Now and again I think of when I’d see those Queens in Benidorm, and at the end they’d always sing I Am What I Am as they removed their wigs and smudged their make up off, and all the dads would be up on their feet cheering for them, some emotional, like they were proud. But that love would stop when they’d go back home, back to their conditioned life where toxic heteronormative behaviour is the status quo. Maybe if those same men saw drag culture on their screens they’d be more open to it becoming a part of their everyday life. I’ll never forget marching with Stonewall at Manchester Pride. I joined them as part of their young campaigners programme, and beforehand we sat and talked about allyship and all the young people there asked me questions while sharing some of their stories. We then began the march and I can’t explain the feeling and emotion watching these young people with so much passion, chanting and being cheered by the people they passed. All of these kids had their own personal struggles and stories but in this environment, they felt safe and completely proud to just be them. I knew the history of Pride and why we were marching, but it was something else seeing what Pride really means first hand. My advice for those who want to use their voice but aren’t sure how is, just do it hun. It’s really not a difficult task to stand up for communities that need you. Change can happen quicker with allyship.

Jade Thirlwall on the power, and pressures, of being an LGBT ally: ‘I’m gonna f**k up now and again’

[fridayfirefly]

The Power of Luck [Chapter One]

Read The Power of Luck on AO3

Masterlist [All Works]

Masterlist [The Power of Luck Series]

Written for Maribat March Day 6 - Miraculous Side Effects

The Ladybug Miraculous had quite a few side effects. Marinette was able to think quick on her feet, she was a skilled tactician in battle, and her reaction time was half that of a normal human. Most notably, the Ladybug Miraculous granted its user the force known as Miraculous Luck, which, depending on the situation, was sometimes more of a curse than a blessing. Marinette didn't get to choose how that good luck manifested. For instance, when she needed an extra day to finish a history project, her school closed down due to a gas leak. Or when she wished for a fresh start after the defeat of Hawkmoth, her parents were offered a deal to grow their bakery business in America.

Marinette assured her parents that she didn't mind moving. After all, most of her class had already moved on. Lila had been deported to Italy, narrowly avoiding jail time. Chloé (much to her dismay) was sent by her father to an all-girls boarding school in England. Adrien was taken in by his Aunt Amelie (as Gabriel was in jail and Emilie was declared brain-dead) and moved to England as well.

No one else from Marinette's class left the country, but many of them moved out of Paris. Nathanial was accepted to an elite art school in Marseille. Max was accepted to a gifted program at an elite school in Bordeaux. Officer Raincomprix was transferred to Toulouse and took Sabrina with him. Juleka and Luka both started homeschooling after their mother sailed the houseboat down the Seine to the city of Rouen.

Worst of all was the loss of Alya. Her parents were horrified that the son of Hawkmoth was in the same class as their daughter, and promptly pulled Alya out of class and decided to move out of the city. Alya begged them for weeks but nothing came of her protests. In the end, Alya left too.

The Miraculous Luck could do a lot of things, but it couldn't keep her friends together. Those who remained at François Dupont filled holes in other classes. Marinette tried to make the best of her new class, but she felt no real connection to them. When her parents proposed the move, Marinette jumped on the opportunity. In Gotham, she wouldn't be haunted by the ghost of her old life.

Marinette cut her hair, leaving it choppy and just above the shoulders. She donated all of her brightly colored clothes to the thrift store down the street and created a new wardrobe for herself. It was toned down and mature, much more fitting for Gotham.

Marinette left Paris a much different girl than the naive fourteen-year-old who thought she could save the world. She was ready for a city like Gotham, a city that didn't make any promises, a city where Marinette could set down some new roots.

-----

At first, it was easy to fly under the radar at Gotham Academy. It was a school filled with the self-absorbed children of millionaires and billionaires, after all. Marinette was there on scholarship - her good grades, leadership experience, and working-class parents combined to cut her tuition down by 75%. Marinette quickly learned that scholarship students were at best ignored, and at worst mercilessly bullied. So Marinette kept her head down and vowed that she would get through the year unscathed.

There was one variable, however, that the Miraculous Luck wasn't able to account for. Marinette's entire plan fell apart thanks to one boy: Damian Wayne.

Marinette became acquainted with Damian Wayne through the school's rumor mill. She learned that he was one of the most wealthy and most attractive people in the school, but he was thought himself too good to spend time with any of his fellow classmates (Marinette couldn't fault him on the last bit; she also found the students at Gotham Academy to be difficult, to say the least). Marinette also learned through the school's rumor mill that Damian spent quite a lot of time staring at her. Given that Damian had never paid the slightest amount of attention to a Gotham Academy girl before, this was a big deal. Suddenly Marinette was the farthest thing from under the radar. Everyone who used to look down on her wanted to be her friend. It was exhausting.

Marinette resolved to ignore Damian Wayne - an easy task, given that she still didn't even know what he looked like. Now that everyone was staring at her, it was hard to

"Why?" grumbled Marinette. "Why couldn't my so-called Miraculous Luck help me get through one normal year of school?"

Tikki shrugged from her spot inside of Marinette's backpack. "Maybe all of this attention will turn out to be a good thing?"

"I doubt that." Marinette glanced around, checking that no one had spotted her talking to her backpack. There was one spot in the cafeteria that was hidden from view, a window-sill nestled behind a pillar, bordered by a wall on one side and an out of order vending machine on the other. Marinette sat on the window-sill every day to eat lunch, with Tikki as her companion for the meal.

"I think your problem is that you're overthinking this. Miraculous Luck always works out in the end, even if there are some obstacles in the middle."

"I just want this horrible school year to be over," sighed Marinette, setting her head down in her arms.

"Don't give up yet, Marinette. I have high hopes for this school year," said Tikki.

Marinette had some serious doubts but picked her head up anyway. Maybe this year wouldn't turn out the way she expected. Marinette defeated Hawkmoth, the greatest villain Paris ever faced. She could survive a year of high school.

-----

Marinette was going to survive her senior year of high school. Damian Wayne on the other hand... Marinette still wasn't sure if she was going to let him survive the year, after everything he put her through.

"Excuse me?" a sickeningly sweet voice piped up from behind Marinette.

Marinette put on her best disinterested-face, took out one headphone, and turned around. "Yes?"

There were three girls standing behind her: a blonde, flanked on both sides by a brunette and a red-head. The blonde girl had a smile on her face but a devious look in her eyes. Marinette had long ago learned to spot manipulators, and this girl had it written all over her. "Are you Marinette Dupain-Cheng?"

"Yes."

"My name is Julie Cooper. I was just wondering... Are you dating Damian Wayne?"

Marinette huffed in exasperation. "What do you think?"

Julie's eyes narrowed. "I just wanted to warn you. I mean, did you really think that Damian Wayne would seriously date a girl here on scholarship? You should break up with him before you get hurt."

"It was a rhetorical question. I'm not dating Damian Wayne. It's just a rumor."

Julie instantly perked up. "Oh, good! I was beginning to think that Damian had lost his mind. I mean, I'm sure you would be a nine or a ten at a public school, but at Gotham Academy, you're like a seven, maybe an eight on a good day. Most of the girls who go here are actually hot, not just," the girl waved her hand towards Marinette. "Above average."

Marinette wasn't sure if Julie meant for her to feel flattered or offended, but her words had the strange effect of making Marinette feel both all at once. "Um, thanks? I'm going to go now."

Julie's brunette friend suddenly paled as the girl started to tug on Julie's sleeve. "Um, Julie?" she whispered.

"What, Nora?" Julie's eyes widened as they fixed on something behind Marinette.

Marinette turned around to see what the cause of their concern was. Or rather, to see who the cause of their concern was. It was a boy, tall and scowling. "Are you done here, Cooper?"

Julia nodded, a nervous edge to her voice, "Bye, Marinette." She and her two friends hurried off, exchanging frantic whispers.

"What do you want?" asked Marinette with a sigh. She was tired of dealing with boys who were only interested in her because Damian Wayne was interested in her.

"I wished to apologize."

"For Julie? Did you put her up to this?"

The boy looked confused. "No, of course not. I meant that I wanted to apologize for everything, not just Julie Cooper."

"For everything?" The truth suddenly dawned on Marinette. "You're Damian Wayne! I didn't think that you would be so tall."

"You didn't know what I looked like?" There was real shock in his voice.

"Well, by the time I learned that you had been staring at me everyone was staring at me, so that wasn't much help in figuring out who you were."

"You could have googled me."

Marinette shrugged. "I could have, but it felt weird to google one of my classmates. I pretty much just resigned myself to never figuring out who you were."

"I should have approached you sooner. I've wanted to apologize for a while, but every time I've caught you alone you've looked like you wanted to be left that way."

"I'm not a fan of most of the students here."

"The students here can be..." Damian searched for the appropriate word. "Tiresome. I resigned myself to a dull four years of high school in their company. That is, until I saw you."

Marinette cocked her head. "Why me, though? I'm nothing special."

"You're different than everyone else here."

Marinette stiffened. "I know. I've been told. I'm here on a scholarship which means I don't belong," she snapped

Damian shook his head. "No, that's not what I meant. You move through life differently than all of the other students here. You don't care about the gossip or drama - at least, not until you were right at the center of it all. You've seen the real world, so you float above the high school drama. You're just so... so..."

"So what?" Marinette's tone softened.

Damian ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it. The addition of the messy hair added a certain charm to his otherwise polished exterior. "I've been brainstorming for the right word for weeks. The best I can come up with is pure. You don't let yourself become affected by anything in this school."

It was a very flattering description of her. It was also very on the nose. "I'll forgive you, Damian Wayne, but only on one condition."

"What?"

"I want to get to know you, and I have a feeling that you feel the same way."

Damian nodded. "It's a deal."

Maybe her Miraculous Luck wasn't so useless after all. Marinette had expected to go the whole year without making a single friend. Now, it seemed that she might make one after all.

@maribatmarch-2k21

[matsbarzal]

May I request number 4 from the August prompt list with Andrei Svechnikov?

4. "i'd lay here and watch the stars with you every night if i could." - andrei svechnikov

Contrary to what many would say, the cold didn't seep through the winds of Siberia constantly. Although the winters were long and brutal, there were always those beacons of hope, the sign of nature, of fresh air that didn't burn your throat when you breathed, the summer suns that left a tint of warmth on your skin.

Andrei had told you all about it. He talked about how much he loved winter back at home, how the snow and ice that inhabited his home during the winter months made it so easy to learn the sport that he so loved.

But he always talked about how beautiful the summers were. He would always talk about the things him, and Geno would do, the trouble they would get into, the fun they would have under the night sky of Barnaul. It didn't take much convincing on his part to get you to come home with him for the summer, an early start after the Hurricanes had found themselves eliminated as contenders from the Stanley Cup.

That’s how you found yourself pressed into Andrei’s side, the engine of the boat below you revving as he maneuvered his way through the open waters of the Ob River. The Barnaul River Port just a small view away when you turned to look.

You had spent the last two days with his family, Andrei and Evgeny finally getting the chance to spend time together that didn’t involve throwing a mask over their face and standing six feet apart while itching to get the chance to hug the other. His family was all ecstatic to finally meet you in person, Igor and Elena going out of their way to try their hardest to communicate with you in English, only utilizing Andrei or Geno whenever they absolutely needed to.

“Is it everything you expected?”

Humming in response, you shrugged your shoulders with a grin towards the sound. “Dunno, haven’t seen any polar bears or much snow. Feel like this isn’t the same Siberia I’ve seen in the movies.”

Pushing away from him when he jokingly dug his fingers from his free hand that wasn’t attached to the wheel of the boat into your side, you laughed and tried to swat at him as he tried to focus on you and the open water in front of him simultaneously. After a few seconds of him trying, and failing, to tickle you, he put his hand up in a surrender motion.

Placing his arm around your waist, he tried to tug you towards him, which you were eager to help and allow him to do, gently dropping your head on his shoulder as the boat jumped and maneuvered its way through the water below.

“It’s beautiful, ‘Drei, your home, this river, everything about here is beautiful. I can see why you get so homesick.” Andrei turned to you with a grin, his cheeks tinged with a light splutter of pink before he pressed his lips gently to the side of your head.

This was the first summer that the two of you had been able to spend with one another without the long-distance factor being an issue since you started dating. It had caused rifts in the past, the distance, the time difference, it had been hard before. But it was an easy decision to oblige with his request, when he had asked you to come home with him so that he could show you a small part of the country he bragged about so often.

The sunset had come and gone as the two of you made your way out from the pier, Andrei promising that he knew what he was doing and that he was the one with the boating license and you had nothing to worry about. The darkness that surrounded you said differently, the only light being the one’s littering the boat, the little starlight’s hooked all around the edges and powered on to provide the light he needed to keep moving.

It didn’t take Andrei much longer to find the specific spot he wanted to stop at, the waves just gently gliding the boat along as Andrei took his foot off the gas and allowed the engine a rest.

Grabbing your hand, he pulled you off the bench and into his body, wrapping his arms around your back as his lips pressed to the crown of your head.

“I’m so glad you decided to come home with me this summer, my love. I’ve wanted to show you this place since the first day I met you.”

Grinning into his chest, all you did was squeeze him around the waist a little harder, snuggling closer to the warmth of his body. Andrei was the first to pull away, gently grabbing your hand and leading you towards the small blankets you had set up along the ground before leaving the port.

He didn’t waste any time before plopping himself down, gesturing for you to do the same. The side of your head was pressed against his before you even realized, his hands gently tracing the lines and veins of your own in the moonlight, the only visible source of light since Andrei had cut the engine.

“Momma loves you. She was raving about you on the phone to my grandmother today, saying how happy she was that I had found someone so incredible, and that I had been willing to finally bring you home to meet them.”

You felt yourself blush at his words, the warmth radiating up your neck and all the way to your cheeks as you processed his words. His parents had been incredible to you ever since you arrived at the airport with Andrei, but to know that they were raving about you to their parents? Amazing.

Turning to press your lips against his cheek, Andrei beat you to it and turned his head so that your lips connected with his. His hand that was previously tracing the lines of your hand gently cupped your cheek as your lips moulded against each other’s. You tried to hold back the smile that was attempting to breakthrough, but it seemed as if Andrei was having the same problem, his lips quirking up into a grin as they continued to press against yours.

Pulling away, he gently pressed his forehead to yours and bumped your nose with his own. Grinning at each other, he maneuvered the both of you, so your heads were once again pressed side by side, your hands laced together in between your bodies.

“We never had the opportunity to do this when I was young. We didn’t have the money to afford boats like this, you couldn’t see the stars or the moon in the city the way you can out here. I’m happy to experience things like this with you, my love.”

Smiling to yourself, you grabbed his unoccupied hand with your own, using it to point towards the sky.

“One of these stars is the brightest in the sky, did you know that?”

“I’ve seen Harry Potter, I know the dog one is the brightest.”

“Sirius, Andrei.”

Scoffing, you could see the grin poke through on his face, “I am serious.”

Groaning, you continued to move his pointer finger until it landed on a random pattern of stars in the sky. You could tell him the specific one if you were back home, memorizing the night sky in the comfort of your own backyard, but here… everything was different here. It was the same sky, the same Earth, the same stars, but this was his home, the place that he knew like the inside of his palm.

“You know, I’d lay here and watch the stars every night with you if I could. The things I would do to spend every waking moment with you, seeing the way the moon lights up your eyes, the way it highlights your skin. I’m so happy you came home with me this summer.”

“I love you to the moon and back, ‘Drei.”

“Always and forever, my love.”

note: of course you may! ironically enough @bb-nhlqueen7 requested the same exact one, great minds think alike. im assuming you meant fluff #4, but if not just let me know and i can write another one for my fav svech. hope you enjoy <3

[apiratewhopines]

Thanks to @teamhook for the artwork! So fancy!

Midnight

Chapter 4 — The Ball

Summary: In which our heroine feels exposed

Chapter 4 of 7 on AO3

“Some day, when I’m awfully low

When the world is cold

I will feel a glow just thinking of you”

-The Way You Look Tonight, Fred Astaire

Having spent several days eating her way through Misthaven with one eye on the lookout for black sedans, Emma was glad to be heading away from the town and the emotional memories the sight of a pub or gas station would cause. She wasn’t sure why one innocent night with Killian Jones continued to dominate her thoughts and hijack her dreams, but she feared seeing him again would push her over the edge.

That didn’t keep her from wanting to though.

On some level, she knew he had probably already forgotten her. Perhaps he did before the night was even over. Some other passenger might be walking around his place now, wearing his shirts and eating his pancakes.

Because when she dreamed about Door Number One, they always had pancakes for breakfast.

Despite her stubborn heart’s refusal to cooperate, the last couple of days had not been wasted. Arthur turned out to be a man of his word. Like a crazy fairy godmother who sprinkled cold hard cash instead of pixie dust and magic, he kept her supplied in the finest clothes and the chicest accessories. At the same time, he made sure her social calendar buzzed with invitations from a who’s who of Misthaven’s finest and wealthiest families. Events that inevitably threw her together with Lance more often than not.

It was at a garden soirée the previous day Lance had pressed to drive her out to Camelot, Arthur’s sprawling estate just a couple of hours away. Figuring the sooner she got the weekend over with, the better, she remained elusive only long enough to be convincing and then accepted his offer.

She already figured out Lancelot du Lac was a man who enjoyed the chase. She also discovered underneath his rakish exterior was someone who desperately wanted to find love while at the same time being deathly afraid of it. Normally, Emma wasn’t one to psychoanalyze. Still, the funny thing about rich people’s parties was that they were actually very dull, and she had nothing to do but regret not kissing the Captain before they parted ways or come up with profiles on the personalities she encountered.

Psychoanalysis seemed like the safer option.

Now she was waiting in the lobby of the Ritz for Lance’s foreign sports car to arrive so she could finally shake the dirt of this town off her feet. She hoped she could shake the lingering sadness as well. It was doing things to her. Things like making her hear the Captain’s voice in crowds.

“Swan! Swan! Emma, if you don’t turn around this instant—“

Excitement and abject horror battled for supremacy when she realized it wasn’t her mind playing tricks on her. As if in slow motion, she turned in the direction of his voice and her eyes met his across the vast space. Then she watched as Killian Jones began to sprint toward her, pushing people out of his way none too gently while managing not to crease his startlingly posh blue suit. This wasn’t the flirty Uber driver of a few nights ago, all leather and innuendo. Sure he had the same sex hair and twinkling blue eyes, but this man exuded power and authority and, quite frankly, looked more than a little pissed as he closed the distance between them with frightening speed.

Unaware of the drama playing out, one of the valets rushed to her and announced breathlessly, “Baroness, your ride has arrived.”

“I… I’ll be right there.”

Emma couldn’t break eye contact with him. His face was just as she remembered it, as it should since it was less than a week ago when she last saw him. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked frantic to get to her. He seemed to know she was contemplating an escape and he paused briefly, not caring who heard him when he called across the remaining ground between them, “So help me, Swan, if you run again, I swear I will—“

She didn’t hear the rest of what he said as a herd of visitors passed between them chattering loudly in some foreign language, the group taking photos of the architecture and potted plants as if they were worthy of remembrance. She had a brief opportunity to step out unseen under cover of the mob separating them. To forever give this man who haunted her the slip.

Or she could stay.

God, did she want to stay.

—

The estate was as lovely as one would expect. Ancient oak trees lined the drive and gave way to topiaries precisely cut into fantastical shapes as the car approached the main house. Lance regaled her with tales of the vast land Arthur inherited, the numerous homes on the property, and the complete absence of any cell or internet services once you crossed the boundary.

It seemed old man Soberano convinced himself the emerging technologies were a way for the government to spy on people and had forbidden, by way of his last will and testament, any cell towers or fiber lines from ever crossing the property. It was why as coveted as an acquaintance with the family was, people often grumbled when they received an invitation to the country estate rather than one of the other properties throughout the globe. The ancient landline phones served as the communication system for the large estate and the only connection to the outside world.

Of course, most of his ramblings went in one ear and out the other because she was too busy wondering why Killian had been at the Ritz in a suit that looked like it was made for him. She would know. After all, she was now in possession of a wardrobe filled with custom pieces and carefully tailored lines.

Was it a fluke encounter or was he still searching for her? He would give new meaning to the phrase ‘no stone left unturned’ if his sole reason for coming to the premier hotel in town was to look for the broke woman he gambled on and lost. Literally.

“Darling, I feel like you haven’t heard a word I said the whole journey,” Lance gently complained as he helped her out of the low seats of the car and up the grand stairs leading to the front door. He appeared genuinely distressed at her distance, and for the first time, she felt a twinge of guilt for the ridiculous game she was playing.

“I’m sorry. I had some bad news right before we left, and I’m a bit distracted,” she explained, allowing Lance to take her hand as they approached the Soberanos who were waiting for them in the foyer. Their linked hands did not go unnoticed by either of their hosts, although to widely different responses.

Learning she was at the opposite end of the mansion from Lance, the group moved to the second floor together. The servant leading them turned to Lance and said helpfully, “Good news, Mr. du Lac, we found the cuff link you lost on your last visit. It was in Madam Soberano’s sitting room.”

Sheepishly, he looked to Emma as if ready to offer an excuse. Unable to keep a chuckle from escaping at the crazy situation, she patted his arm and said, “The wind must have blown it in.”

With that, the group separated. Arthur replaced Lance at her arm and smiled indulgently at his protege. “You’re quite good. You have him eating out of your hand, and you’re not even trying.”

“I’ve met his type before. The less I try, the more he will. He’ll be begging me to divorce my husband and proposing before the end of the night at this rate,” she joked.

“You don’t know Lancelot du Lac,” Arthur argued. Their leisurely stroll through the second-floor gallery allowed her to see pictures of his ancestors back to the Norman invasion, but she noted there was none of him or his beloved wife who he was fighting so hard to keep.

“Well, you don’t know Emma Swan. He tried to give me an emerald the size of a baby’s fist today.” She had been tempted to pocket the jewel, but some small part of her knew what she was doing was wrong and robbing the man blind when she had no intention of ever returning his affections wouldn’t make it any better.

“Excellent! I won’t even deduct it from your pay if you promise to take him for all he’s worth and break his heart, dear. It will do him some good.”

“How are you still friends with him? Knowing what he’s doing with your wife. I can’t figure out if you’re the most understanding man in the world or absolutely crazy.”

Sighing, he sat down on one of the numerous benches that lined the gallery floor and patted the seat beside him. Emma didn’t know precisely how or when it happened, but he had become almost a friend after the deal was struck. She spent as much time with him as she did Lance and, despite the fact she thought he was extremely odd, she had grown fond of him. “Because I think he was trying to make her happy at first. I told you she wasn’t the only one to make mistakes. This whole thing is my fault. It was my foolish pursuit of wealth that drove her to this, endlessly trying to carve my name into the family tomes as one of the best empire builders in the dynasty. If I had been there for her, if I had just listened when she tried to tell me what she needed…well, we wouldn’t be here having this conversation.”

“I hope for your sake this works.”

“And I hope for your sake, the next time a man tries to give you an emerald, you keep it.”

“How do you know I didn’t keep it?”

“Because I think I’m starting to know Emma Swan,” he explained with a wink and smile before pulling her up and taking her to the east wing. Dropping her off at her room, he teased, “Get some rest, dear. Cinderella needs to be at her best for the ball.”

With a sardonic grin, she countered, “Hard to be at your best when you know every Cinderella has her midnight.”

Hours later, after a nap and a fortifying drink, she shrugged into her form-fitting green dress like it was battle armor. She was joking earlier when she said a proposal would be forthcoming, but she had no doubt Lance would make a proposition of some kind. The trick would be to keep him on the line without actually following through with anything.

She left her room as late as possible to avoid spending too much time around the pampered elite who were her housemates that weekend. While she had met a fair few during her crash course in Misthaven society, Arthur was the only one she didn’t mind having a conversation with, but he was unlikely to abandon Guin’s side to keep her company. Especially since it would put a damper on Lance’s pursuit.

Her destination was the expansive, three-tiered back deck, illuminated by thousands of clear fairy lights and a fair number of fireflies, the faint breeze carrying the briny smell of the ocean that lay only a few feet beyond their well-tended lawn. The men in tuxedos added a dashing contrast to their partners’ colorful evening gowns and cocktail dresses. A string quartet was playing off to the side; the beautiful melody drifted through the party in a way that enhanced the romantic atmosphere to a point it made her hurt.

She was surprised to see Arthur standing alone through the wall of windows. She stopped to take in the scene, complete with busy waitstaff and tables of food.

She couldn’t wait to get away.

“Alright, Guinevere, you want to talk, let’s talk. I have a few serious words to say.”

Silently moving until the curtains partially hid her, Emma watched as Lance and Guinevere made their way toward the patio. Guinevere’s eyes were red and she was fretting with a handkerchief gripped tightly between her hands. “As if you had two serious words in your whole vocabulary, Lance.”

“I could make a very noble speech. Tell you we were just two ships passing in the night, but the truth is, Arthur is my friend. I don’t want to break up a happy marriage. We’ve been playing with fire, but it’s better to end this now before someone gets hurt.”

“Funny how none of that mattered until the baroness showed up. I know you think you are in love with her. I can see it in your face every time she is around. You’re behaving like a schoolboy. You’re a darling, but you need to be careful. We don’t know anything about her. All we have is her word that she is who she says she is. I’ve asked around; no one has ever heard of her. Maybe her hair is dyed, and maybe she’s poisoned three husbands. Sidney told me there was some man calling her a swan and chasing her at her hotel today. It had all the staff talking.”

“You’re jealous, Guin.”

“Terribly. Fun, isn’t it?” The woman rushed from the room, tears flowing freely now. Emma didn’t move from her hiding place, instead waiting until he had joined the party before she followed in his footsteps.

—

As she predicted, Lance made sure he was her partner for most of the night. She followed Guin’s movements with alarm, knowing the woman was on edge and fearful of what she may do if she felt she had nothing to lose. Her glance met Arthur’s when she saw his wife and Sidney go inside, heads close together and a look of shock crossing Guin’s face. The other man nodded at her and trailed after them at a distance.

She wasn’t sure what possessed her to let Lance lead her away from the party into the formal gardens spreading north of the patio. Perhaps she was tired of having to put a fake smile on her face, or maybe she was simply tired.

He kept a steady stream of conversation going, mostly unanswered on her side, and navigated them down an old stone path to a large fountain surrounded by benches and meticulously pruned rose bushes. “Please don’t interrupt, dear, but suppose we were to follow this path all the way to the garage and take my car for a ride through the countryside.”

“Oh, the make-believe game! It’s always been one of my favorites. But why stop at the countryside, Lance? Why not go on a tour of the moon while we’re at it?”

“I asked you not to interrupt,” he teased, pulling her arm through his and continuing to amble further away from the house. “You see, this isn’t some random trip. We have a particular place we are heading. A little estate by the lake where an opinionated old dame lives. It’s twenty ’til midnight. If we leave now, we can make it as dawn is breaking.”

Intrigued despite herself, she asked, “And what business would we have at this chateau by the lake?”

“I want you to meet my mother. To introduce you to her and tell her that I’ve met the one. Then the pale light of dawn will shine on the first day of our lives together.”

He was serious, and she felt like the lowest of human beings when she joked back, “I doubt the day will be the only thing breaking when that bombshell drops. Were we going to share the news with my husband before or after our visit?”

Before he could respond, Arthur called out from behind them on the path, “Baroness Jones, I believe you promised me a dance.”

He reached them seconds later with a pointed look at her. Although he was the picture of sophistication, she could tell by his quick pace something had happened. “A midnight dance as I remember.”

“Of course, please excuse me,” she murmured to Lance, who looked like he was about to protest as she took Arthur’s arm and allowed him to guide her back to the house. Keeping a calm expression on her face, she smiled and nodded to the people they passed and waited until they were out of earshot to ask, “What’s happened?”

“It’s midnight, dear. The ground has opened under our feet. That horrible friend of Guin’s, Sidney, did some digging and found out there is no Baroness Jones. They plan to make an announcement any moment now. I’m sorry I brought you into this mess, Emma.”

They reached the dance floor Arthur installed on the deck specifically for the party, but neither felt like dancing. Instead, they hovered along the back wall and waited for the troublesome pair to return from their scheming.

Sighing, she nudged his shoulder. “It was bound to happen sooner or later. We never really stood a chance at this working.”

“But we were so close. I could feel Guin changing, turning back to me. Now I may as well help her pack her bags,” he replied, grabbing two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handing one off to her. Clicking his glass against hers in a mock toast, he muttered, “Here’s to wasted years and endless torment.”

He downed the entire glass and, when she only took a sip, he reached out and downed hers as well.

She wasn’t sure what he had to be upset about. She was the one who was going to be exposed as a charlatan, forced to exit under the judgmental gazes of a house full of people who would dine on the story for months to come. Just as she was about to point out it could be worse, she saw Guin descend the stairs with Sidney hot on her heels. “Here we go.”

“I’ll stand by you as best I can,” Arthur promised, his hand coming to rest in the small of her back as if to provide some physical barrier against what was about to happen.

“Ladies and gentleman, may I have a moment of your time? As you know, Arthur and I pride ourselves on providing the best of entertainment at our parties, and I think you’ll find tonight’s will not disappoint. I have a story to share that I think will delight and amuse you. Under our roof tonight, we have a guest claiming one of the oldest names in European aristocracy.”

A murmur started in the crowd, musicians laying down their instruments, even the waitstaff and caterers ceased what they were doing. It seemed as if the entire universe held its breath waiting for Guin to continue. She could tell the woman enjoyed every moment of it.

“I don’t know how many of you are familiar with the heraldry of Cambridge nobility, but let me assure you that in all of England, there is no—“

From the patio entrance, the footman interrupted in a booming voice to announce the arrival of a late guest of note. “Baron Killian Jones.”

Emma had to grab Arthur’s arm to keep from falling when her knees buckled. In the soft light, the Captain looked like a fantasy. His dark hair mussed in a way that looked intentional, but she knew it resulted from repeatedly running his hand through it when he was frustrated. He was outfitted in a tuxedo, the crisp white shirt making his stubble seem even more dangerous in the moonlight. He surveyed the crowd looking for her, supremely unconcerned he had the attention of the entire party.

Arthur looked at the mysterious stranger and then took in her aghast expression and whispered, “Do you know him?”

At that moment, Killian’s eyes met hers and the heat she saw there made it difficult to think, much less speak. “Yes. Yes, I know him.”

“Right. All hope isn’t lost then,” Arthur said with forced cheerfulness as he disengaged her death grip on his arm and went to greet their visitor. In a loud voice, so nobody would have to strain to hear, he said, “Welcome to my home, my dear Baron. It’s been a long time since we’ve met.”

Despite the fact the men had never laid eyes on each other before, Emma observed the Captain as he quickly assessed the lay of the land and responded, “Yes, years and years. I hope you don’t mind me trespassing on your hospitality. I only just arrived in town and the hotel staff informed me my wife was spending the weekend here. I couldn’t wait to see her.”

“With such a charming companion, no one blames you,” Guinevere said smoothly, giving Sidney a look meant to quell any further talk and rushing to meet their newest arrival. “She’s kept us all so diverted this past week.”

Giving the woman a slight grin, he nodded. “I’m sure. She’s nothing if not diverting.”

Moving away from the Soberanos, he took the stairs two at a time until he was standing in front of her, mouth twisted in amusement and eyes on fire. He seemed to drink in the sight of her from the artless way the curls were falling down her back to how her hand was white-knuckled from holding on to a nearby chair.

“You found me.” Somehow her words sounded like both an accusation and a thank you. Her eyes searched his face for some clue as to why he was there.

“Did you ever doubt I would?”

Before anything else could be said, he pulled her into his arms and crushed his lips to hers. Plundering her mouth, not caring they had an audience numbering in the hundreds, he shifted his grip, one hand making its way to her hair and cradling the back of her head. The other drifted lower, moving her body until it pressed against the long length of his. The thin fabric of her dress allowed the heat of him to soak through to her skin which suddenly felt tight and she was desperate for more contact.

She leaned into him, allowing her hands finally to comb through the hair that had haunted her dreams. The silky strands provided a contrast to the rough drag of his facial scruff against her cheek, the feeling of him in her arms doing exactly what she wanted almost pushing her into sensory overload. She didn’t think, who could when faced with such an onslaught, her body moving on instinct. She moaned into his mouth, tongues tangling and tasting of champagne and need.

A throat cleared in the distance and reality came crashing back. Reluctantly, Killian pulled back, resting his forehead against hers and breathing unevenly.

With quiet wonder, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I was hungry to see my little wife.”

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @stahlop @motherkatereloyshipper @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @klynn-stormz

[kpopfanfictrash]

Zephyr

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Word Count: 2,696

Rating: PG-13

Summary: An accompanying drabble to Exes and Supher-o’s. This drabble takes place before the events of Exes and Superher-o’s and follows Jungkook as he’s rescued by a superhero love interest.

A/N: The reader in this drabble is not the reader in Exes and Superher-o’s.  

[ PART OF MY JUNGKOOK BIRTHDAY DRABBLE GAME ]

While standing in line at the check-out counter, Jungkook examined the oranges he’d picked out in his basket. Idly, he recalled Minutia saying the color orange came after the fruit, not before. She loved to spout factoids like that; Jungkook did a pretty good job of tuning her out, but her random facts always seemed to stick in his head.

Minutia was the superhero Jungkook was assigned to as handler. She was fairly loud, fairly opinionated and fairly dedicated to kicking people’s ass on the regular.

She’d mentioned the orange fact when ISA – International Superhero Agency – had recommended Minutia change her superhero suit color to orange. She’d felt very strongly about this and in the end, Minutia had won. 

Usually, she did.

Realizing the line before him had moved, Jungkook took a step forward. No longer distracted by thoughts of the color orange, he took the opportunity to scan the grocery store around him.

It was a habit of his – an unfortunate side effect of both his job and the knowledge which came from it. After high school, Jungkook attended an elite military academy on the east coast, but it only took six months before ISA found him.

He’d been out for a morning run when two men in suits cornered him for what they called an opportunity. They’d explained about a different path than the military; an alternative from merely serving his country. Both agent and handlers at ISA held no national loyalty – they merely protected civilians from absolute evil.

Barely had the offer left their mouths before Jungkook accepted.

Of course, Jungkook learned soon after superhero handlers were little more than baby-sitters, but that was beside the point. He genuinely cared about Minutia and knew the work they did together was important – even if his position kind of sucked, since Jungkook was more than capable of defending himself.

Handlers were required to be proficient in various martial arts; they often trained the newbie superheroes who arrived at the Agency. Jungkook was a ninth-degree black belt in Taekwondo, a red belt in Jiu Jitsu and a tenth-degree black belt in Judo. He also had a blue belt in Krav Maga, but this had more to do with lack of time than capability. Jungkook could assemble and disassemble most weapons in the time it took most people to fire them, but all that meant nothing in the face of superpowers.

Minutia could simply freeze Jungkook and kill him if she wanted to; he’d never see it coming.

Not that Minutia would kill him, of course. Stifling the image, Jungkook moved up in line. His super was relentlessly moral, even if she had some rough edges and enjoyed pushing boundaries.

It was the rest who worried Jungkook, like the supervillains they fought. Aided by supernatural powers, supervillains were capable of great destruction. It was the main reason Jungkook stayed at his job – if anyone stood a chance against supervillains, it was superheroes.

“Bag?”

Surprised, Jungkook looked up. “Huh?”

“Bag,” the cashier girl repeated, rolling her eyes. “Do you want a bag?”

“Oh – no.” Jungkook shook his head. “I have my own. I –”

An explosion rocked the street outside, shattering the windows in a hailstorm of glass.

On instinct, Jungkook dove to protect the rude cashier with his body. There was bulletproof lining beneath his clothes, for which he was grateful. He’d just come from shooting practice at Headquarters and hadn’t had a chance to change out of his gear.

Glass harmlessly bounced off his torso, although a few shards sliced his face, leaving blood as he winced. Reaching up to grip counter, Jungkook surveyed the damage.

All the windows of the supermarket had been blown in. The blast seemed to have originated from the street – at least, Jungkook assumed this based on the direction of people running.

“Stay down!” he yelled, and launched himself over the counter.

People obeyed, crawling towards the store’s interior aisles. Jungkook hoped there was a door in the back, otherwise they’d trap themselves like fish in a barrel. He wasn’t surprised when people followed his command. People tended to respond positively to authority in times of chaos.

Yanking a Glock from his jacket, Jungkook dashed from the store. Cocking his head to one side, he surveyed the street for danger.

There – at the end of the block, he saw a cloud of dust settling.

Keeping his gun steady, Jungkook rushed towards the scene. Halfway there, he realized he’d left his groceries behind and nearly groaned. Oh, well, it couldn’t be helped. Such was the life of superheroes and handlers.

As though in response to his thought, someone emerged from the chaos.

Only one person; tall, with hulking muscles and what looked to be three arms. Nope, wait – that was machine gun. Fuck.

Jungkook lunged to the side as the man opened fire. Luckily, much of the street was deserted from the blast and few people were hurt. Propping himself up on one knee, Jungkook squinted from behind an overturned car and fired.

Five shots, each in quick succession aimed at the man’s torso. Three of them hit, sending the man to his knees, only for him to snarl, his gaze snapping upwards.

Jungkook watched in horror as the bullet wounds began to heal, pushing metal from flesh with alarming speed.

Of fucking course, he was a supervillain.

Flipping around, Jungkook pressed his back to the car and considered his options. He should call for Minutia, or another super – teeth gritted, Jungkook pushed this option aside. He could do this on his own; this was a fight he could win.

Winning against rejuvenation wasn’t unheard of for someone like him. It meant his opponent healed abnormally fast from their injuries, but they could be overwhelmed if Jungkook kept up momentum.

Before he could finish this thought, the car Jungkook sat against flipped overhead.

Eyes wide, Jungkook watched it crash and roll down the street. A small crowd darted away as they screamed and Jungkook stifled an eye roll. Civilians were so predictable. They never got out of the way like they should; instead, they pressed closer and tried to video it all on their cell phones.

Twisting around, Jungkook found the supervillain grinning at him while he flexed a muscle.

The machine gun lay discarded in a pile of rubble. Jungkook’s heart sank, since it meant the villain was out of ammo, which likely meant he’d been using it in other locations.

When the villain wrenched a storm grate from the ground, Jungkook came to his senses. Survival was priority number one. Fighting someone with only rejuvenation would’ve been hard enough; it would be near impossible to fight someone with rejuvenation and strength.

Rolling away, Jungkook managed to escape said trajectory of the grate.

Metal smashed into the space he’d just occupied, leaving a human-sized dent in the pavement. Flipping himself upwards, Jungkook shot as he moved. This was a move best left to the movies, unless you happened to be an obsessed-with-video-games-superhero-handler trained in four different kinds of martial arts.

Jungkook was just that. 

“Catch me if you can!” he yelled, taking off down the street.

He zig-zagged as he moved, craning his neck to peer overhead. The new plan was: keep the villain’s attention on Jungkook until help arrived, which wouldn’t be long. Given the immediacy of the destruction, ISA would likely dispatch someone with the ability to fly.

All he had to do was stay alive until then. Smirking a little, Jungkook dug in his heel and spun around.

Luckily, he had a few tricks up his sleeve.

Pushing up the sleeve of his jacket, Jungkook waited until the villain was within fifteen feet, then pressed a button. 70 mA of electrical current shot out from his wrist, arcing with blue-white light to hit the villain in the chest. A product created by Namjoon, otherwise known as the superhero, Brainblast.

The volt was enough to stun or kill any other man, but the villain simply gasped and sunk to his knees.

He writhed for a moment, clawing at skin which simultaneously burned and healed. The distraction was all Jungkook needed to run, aiming his gun and – someone swooped down to blast the villain back with air.

A smirk on your face, you lowered both hands to your sides.

Jungkook skidded to a stop. Your superhero alias, Zephyr, was one of the most popular superheroes on the face of the planet. Intelligent, formidable, and rated a seven on the ISA power scale, despite only having one superpower: control over the air and winds.

You were also ridiculously hot; Jungkook had harbored a crush on you for years.

He still remembered the day you arrived at the Agency. Higher-ups said Zephyr (the Greek god of the west wind) was traditionally a male name and wouldn’t make sense to serve as your moniker. You’d said to fuck off and written it down anyways.

This memory made Jungkook smile, even as you sent another wave of wind down the street. Shaking his head, he pulled himself back to reality.

Hovering a few feet off the ground, wind whipped at your hair. You’d explained to him once you didn’t really fly – it was more the wind currents obeyed your commands and took you where you needed to go. Jungkook didn’t really get the difference, but he couldn’t deny you looked badass doing it.

While the villain struggled to stand, you glanced down at Jungkook.

“You alright?” you asked, concern evident in your voice.

Jungkook tried not to frown. “I’m fine,” he said, despite the disheveled state of his hair and clothes. “I had him, you know.”

“Right.” Your expression turned dubious. “It’s just that –”

You were cut off by said villain throwing a car at your head, which you managed to stop with a thrust of your hand. The winds obeyed your command, wrapping around the car to set off to one side. 

Gaze narrowed, you rose even higher. “It’s not that you’re not capable!” You yelled to be heard over the wind. “But –”

A sewer grate flew through the air and, without turning, Jungkook shot it down from the sky. Pieces rained around them like confetti.

You stared at him, wide-eyed. “Right.” Sheepish, you smiled. “Just keep doing that. Distract him and I’ll try to knock him out. Keep him alive, though!”

Jungkook nodded, giving a grim smile before moving forward.

He broke into a run, alarmed by how fast the villain seemed to heal. Even if two supers had the same power, they tended to vary in intensity. This villain must be rated high even without his super strength.

The device on Jungkook’s arm wouldn’t recharge for another five minutes, so he relied on his gun to keep the villain occupied. A shot to the kneecap; another to his shoulder. Keeping your words in mind, Jungkook tried not to hit anything vital. Even rejuvenation might not be enough to heal the man if he shot him in the heart.

High above, you flew gracefully upwards. Jungkook nearly stopped to stare; you arced through the sky like a dancer, claiming the winds as though you owned them. Caressing the breeze with one hand, you turned around and – fuck.

Jungkook had let himself get distracted. Swearing aloud, he dove behind the nearest car and heard something shatter.

Rolling to the other side, he propped himself up on one knee and shot. The villain yelped, stumbling forward as the bullet hit his elbow.

This time, it took greater concentration for metal to be squeezed from his skin. The villain panted as he stood, clearly winded and Jungkook’s heart leapt, realizing they’d tired him out.

This turned out to be the opening you needed.

Swooping down, you reached out a hand, and – wind whipping about like a force field – slowly closed your palm.

The villain gasped, his eyes going wide as he clutched his throat.

Shakily, Jungkook pushed himself upwards to stand.

One of the most dangerous powers associated with air manipulation was creating a vacuum. You achieved this by removing the air entirely; a feat which required great skill and concentration.

It only took a few minutes for the man to be so deprived of oxygen, his eyes rolled backwards. His legs wavered a second, then he slumped to the ground.

“Saoirse!” you yelled, floating down. “Cuffs!”

A woman with red hair – your handler, Jungkook presumed – ran from the nearest subway station to quickly cuff the man’s hands behind his back. Jungkook could see the moment the villain’s power drained from his limbs.

Standing before them, you watched, although it seemed to pain you.

Picking his way through the wreckage, Jungkook came to a stop by your side. Glancing your way, he noticed the breeze continue to play with your hair, as though it couldn’t bear to be parted for long.

“Do you ever wonder what this does to us?” 

Confused by your question, Jungkook blinked. “What do you mean?”

“This,” you said, waving a hand at the wreckage. In the distance, Jungkook could hear sirens screaming. “All the death, the destruction… even the people on the other side. Does it ever hurt you sometimes?”

Jungkook stared at you for a moment, unsure how to respond.

Truthfully, it did bother him when he saw himself in the villains they faced. Sometimes he was fighting genuine evil, but occasionally the villains had reasonable grievances – worse, sometimes they’d merely been raised to see the ISA as evil.

Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to hate those kinds of villains and yes, it did hurt when he took them out.

Sensing his hesitance, your shoulders slumped. Jungkook’s stomach twisted, wanting to fix whatever it was you were feeling. He hesitated, wanting to say you weren’t alone.

“Never mind,” you said, managing to smile. “Another bad guy defeated, right?”

“Right.” Jungkook’s gaze remained upon yours. “I guess.”

Before you could say anything more, Saoirse called your name.

“Guess I should go,” you said, rising into the air. When you glanced his way, Jungkook found himself wondering what you were thinking. “I… thanks for helping today, Jungkook.”

“Anytime.”

This time when he smiled at you, it was genuine.

You rose another few feet, then hesitated. “It’s been awhile since I came by the training arena, huh?” 

Jungkook shrugged, as though he hadn’t noticed, but he had. Of course, he had.

“You’re still the one they’ve got training the new recruits?”

“Yep,”

“Hm.” A small smile crossed your lips. “Maybe I should stop by. Show the newbies how it’s done. We could work up a sweat.”

Jungkook’s heart nearly stopped when you dropped him a wink. Before he could speak, you rose further into the air.

“Bye, Jungkook!” you called, and zipped off down the street.

The sound of your voice faded into the sounds of the city and Jungkook stood there another moment before coming to his senses. His phone began to ring in his pocket.

Fumbling for the device, he sighed when he saw the name on the ID.

“Hello?” he said, lifting the phone to his ear.

“YOU’RE ALIVE.”

Wincing, he held the phone further away. “Minutia?”

“Who else would it be? Of course, it’s me, you idiot! I had just gotten my morning coffee and was passing that pizza place when I happen to catch a glimpse of the TV – and what do I see? You, fighting a fucking supervillain alone!”

“I wasn’t alone,” Jungkook shot back.

“Yeah, those cowering civilians looked real intimidating.”

“Zephyr showed up at the end, it was fine.”

“Oh,” she said, somewhat mollified. “Alright, then. She’s cool. But seriously, JK – be more careful, would you? I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Pulling his hand away, Jungkook squinted at the receiver. “Huh?” he said, returning the device to his ear.

“Yeah, who’d pick up my dry cleaning?”

“Bye,” Jungkook grunted, and hung up the phone.

Still, he smiled as he turned to walk down the street. People stared as he passed, pointing and whispering about the state of his clothes. Jungkook heard the word super being muttered, although he didn’t bother to correct them.

He was too busy turning your words over again in his mind. Does it ever hurt you sometimes?

The truth was it did. All the time.

He just didn’t know if there existed a better path than the one he was on.

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[hufflepuffhermione]

from the drabble list 23 “I immediately regret this decision.” if you feel like it!!

This got LONG. I know that’s what happens with everything I ever write, but this got long even for me. But I hope you enjoy it. It’s set in the summer between S3 and S4.

The Oval Office is a dangerous place. Life or death decisions are made in the room every day, and a briefly floated idea can quickly become policy before all of the words are even out. One the President has an idea set in his head, it’s difficult to talk him out of it.

Unfortunately for everyone, Toby and Josh fail to recognize the present dangers.

It’s a staff meeting outlining upcoming campaign events and the changes to the policy calendar; nothing out of the ordinary or particularly monumental, but when there’s something to do with national parks, there is always an element of risk.

“Will someone tell me why I’m going to Montana in a few weeks? If I know my electoral math, and I think I do, they’ve got all of three votes and they usually go to the other guy,” President Bartlet says, looking up from behind his reading glasses.

There’s a look exchanged between the senior staff, but Josh swallows and answers. “Sir, it’s the… the opening of Big Sky National Park.”

The President pauses. “That’s not a national park. I would know, I’ve been to all of them.”

Again, more glances. Josh clears his throat awkwardly and continues. “Yes sir, but this is the one that you signed an order to establish a few years ago. In Montana. They’re finally opening it to the public, and you’re going to be there at the opening with the Secretary of the Interior.”

“Ah, right, I did do that,” Bartlet says, smiling. “You know, I do love national parks.”

“We’re aware, sir,” Toby says dryly.

President Bartlet puts down the schedule he’s been looking at and meets Toby’s iron gaze. “Well Toby, tell me? What’s the best national park you’ve been to?”

Toby mutters something under his breath, and when he’s asked to repeat it, his voice takes on an edge. “I’ve never been to one,” he admits.

Mistake number one.

“You’re telling me you’re about to write a speech for me about the glories of the national park system, and you’ve never even been to one?” the President asks incredulously.

“Well, I was going to make Sam do it,” Toby admits.

“What, is this below your pay grade?”

Toby would be rolling his eyes if he weren’t in the Oval Office. “No, sir, but I figured California boy here has been outside a few more times in his life than I have.”

“Is this true, Sam?”

Sam shrugs. “I guess. My parents weren’t really outdoorsy types, but we went to the Grand Canyon once. So I guess I’m ahead of Toby on that score.”

“And the rest of you? Have you all had the opportunity to experience the wonder that is American national parks?”

Josh and CJ glance at each other warily. Leo volunteers the information of a few he’s had a chance to visit, but when the President’s gaze rests on CJ, she stammers, “I made plans to go to Yosemite when I was in grad school, but I… I don’t think I made it there.”

Before the President can comment on CJ’s admission, Josh chimes in. “Frankly, sir, there aren’t any national parks easily accessible from where I’ve lived, so…”

This is mistake number two.

“Nonsense,” the President exclaims. “Shenandoah is just an hour and a half from here! You’ve lived in DC how long and you still haven’t…” He breaks off, and a dangerous smile spreads across his face. “Josh, do you remember when I suggested we take a staff field trip to Shenandoah?”

“I didn’t think you were serious, sir,” Josh replies, gulping.

“I wasn’t then, but if Toby and Sam are going to be writing a speech for me about the wonders of national parks, on the anniversary of the day which, by the way, the National Park Service was established, you really ought to have some experience visiting national parks,” the President says. “Do you all have anything going on this weekend? Doesn’t matter, I can raise it to the level of an executive order and everyone you have to cancel on will just have to deal with it. We’re going on a field trip.”

The door opens behind them, and it’s Donna standing there. “I’m sorry sir, am I interrupting something?”

“Not at all,” Josh answers with relief.

“I just needed Josh for…”

“Donnatella,” the President interrupts, smiling at her. “How would you like to go on a national park expedition?”

Donna looks at him, wide-eyed. “Well, sir, I do appreciate a good national park. I’m not sure I can say no… can I say no?”

And there’s the third mistake.

“Well, Donna, pack your outdoor things, because you’re going camping this weekend,” the President says gleefully. “I’ll get my guys to arrange all of this.”

“Do you need Josh? He’s needed in a meeting with legislative affairs right now,” Donna says. “They only have twenty minutes before the vote.”

Josh immediately stands up as the President waves him off. “You shouldn’t have come in,” he hisses to Donna, as they walk down the hallway towards his office. “You should have just called. You might have avoided getting roped into this nonsense.

“Well, I immediately regret this decision, but… is he serious?”

“He’s started making plans and everything,” Josh says. “But hey, if I’m forced to go camping, at least you’ll be forced to go too.”

Donna rolls her eyes. “You’re a horrible, horrible man.”

“Yeah, but I sign your paychecks.”

“I had plans!” she whines.

Josh laughs as he turns towards his office to pick up a file. “Haven’t you learned never to make weekend plans? And never to indulge the President when he’s in one of these moods?”

“Believe me, I’m regretting all of this.”

—

“As it turns out,” the President says on a Friday morning staff meeting, “I can’t go to Shenandoah. That would require the Secret Service to shut down the whole park, and even then, there’s nothing they can do about the bears.”

An audible sigh of relief falls across the staff, but it doesn’t last long when he continues, “I’ve arranged transportation and reserved a couple of cabins for you all. You’re leaving at 6am sharp tomorrow morning, and they’ll have you back by Sunday night.”

“Sir… is this… serious?” Sam hazards.

“Serious as the deficit,” the President replies with a grin. “You’re going to experience a real national park.”

“And if we just… happened to be sick tomorrow?” Josh asks.

President Bartlet shakes his head and laughs. “I wouldn’t believe you, since you’ve never taken a sick day you weren’t forced to take. I’d send my guys over to your apartment and have them throw you in the van. Face it, Josh, you’re going to see the great outdoors.”

Toby rests his head in his hands. “Please someone just kill me now.”

“Come on, Toby, you’ll love it!”

“Sir, I’m pretty sure I have to brief this weekend, so I think…” CJ begins to argue.

“You have highly competent deputies, let them handle it,” the President deflects. “6am sharp. Be here, or the Secret Service will be making visits to your places. And they do know where you live.”

—

After a two-hour drive which everyone spent asleep, they are unceremoniously deposited at a campsite with a fire pit and two cabins which might generously be described as ‘rustic’. The August heat that has settled over DC is only marginally lessened by elevation.

“Well this is… something,” Sam remarks, taking a peek inside one of the spartan cabins, which contains nothing but wooden bunks and an ancient-looking table.

“There aren’t any bathrooms,” Toby comments with barely restrained fury. “What are we supposed to do, go in the woods?”

Donna shrugs, wondering, once again, how she got roped into this. “That’s how we usually do it when I went camping as a kid. Sometimes they had a bathroom at the site, but it doesn’t look like they do at this one.”

“You’ve been camping?” Josh asks incredulously.

“Yeah. We’d go camping in the Wisconsin Dells most years, and once in a while we’d go to Minnesota or the UP,” Donna replies offhandedly.

“The UP?” Toby asks.

“Upper Peninsula of Michigan,” Sam corrects, always glad to make a geographic contribution.

Josh picks up a large plastic tub that was left with them, filled with camping food, and begins to walk toward one of the cabins. “Well, at least Donna knows what we’re doing.”

“Didn’t you claim to be an outdoorsman?” CJ asks, quirking an eyebrow. “I’d like to see you prove it.”

He drops the tub and rubs his eye. “I mean… I was on some drugs then, so I’m not sure I can be held liable…”

“You were not on any drugs, Josh, or else I wouldn’t have let you have alcohol,” Donna corrects.

“I was on the drug that was being outside after three months of miserable confinement!”

Donna and CJ share a glance. “Well, I think this is the perfect opportunity for you to demonstrate your outdoorsy prowess. You can lead our hike.”

“Hey, no one said anything about hiking!” Josh completely ignores the tub and stalks over to where CJ and Donna are standing with the rest of the supplies, almost tripping over a branch as he does so.

“It’s in the President’s executive order. He set us an agenda,” Donna declares, waving around a piece of paper that does, in fact, include the presidential seal.

“There’s no way he used an actual executive…”

Josh is cut off by Sam, who snatches the paper out of Donna’s hands with a “Let me see that!” He reads the paper quickly, frowning as he does. “Yeah, he wants us to take three different hikes. There are maps attached to it. Also, he’s set some time aside for Toby and I to… extol the virtues of nature and apply it to our speechwriting?”

“And we wonder why nothing gets done in this country!” Toby throws his hands in the air. “I can extol the virtues of nature perfectly well without having to actually…you know… go out in nature!”

Josh takes a look at the schedule over Sam’s shoulder. “He’s really given us specific times to start each hike?”

“Including one at 5:30 in the morning so we can catch the sunrise over the mountains,” Donna notes.

“Well I’d like to catch a few hours of sleep for once.” CJ rolls her eyes and picks up her duffel bag. “Think we can blow this off?”

Sam presses his lips together. “Um… he’s going to know if we do.”

“Why?”

“Because he left the Secret Service agents here to ‘keep an eye on us’,” Sam says, jerking his head toward the van which they came in, which is parked in a clearing in the woods. “Ostensibly it’s so we don’t die when Josh forgets he’s not actually an outdoorsman, but he’s definitely spying on us.”

Josh rubs his forehead and sighs heavily. “You couldn’t have just lied and said you have a great appreciation for national parks, Toby?”

“If I said I’d been to one, he would have interrogated me about it!” Toby shouts. “I was cornered!”

“You were the one who came up with the idea to establish this new national park,” CJ says, nudging Josh’s side, “so I hold you responsible.”

“God help me for winning a political battle and doing some good for the country at the same time,” Josh replies, rolling his eyes. “That was almost three years ago! Why should I have known it would backfire like this?”

Donna sighs heavily and picks up her bag. “I’m seriously regretting coming out here with any of you.”

“If you had just called the Oval instead of coming in…”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says. “CJ, what do you say to the cabin on the right? I looked inside and I think there are fewer bugs in that one.”

“Please,” CJ says. “I’m grateful I have at least one other member of the Sisterhood here.”

Sam and Josh give each other a look. “I guess we’d better move into the bug-infested cabin,” Sam remarks.

“They’re both bug-infested, but the one on the right is just… less bug-infested,” Donna shouts back, as she heads into the small cabin.

“Well, Mr. Outdoorsman,” Sam says to Josh, “what now?”

Josh rubs the bridge of his nose. “If I wasn’t on drugs, I was under the influence of alcohol—which I hadn’t had in three months—so you know, I can’t be held liable for what I said then.”

Sam quirks an eyebrow as he picks up his duffel bag. “You do have a law degree, don’t you?”

“Don’t remind me.”

—

It’s another hour before all of the stuff in moved into cabins and everyone is seated on logs around the unlit fire pit, unsure of what to do next. It’s Donna, naturally, who has a handle on the schedule.

“Now, the President has recommended we do a short hike before the heat of the day really kicks in, and that one takes off from that trailhead over there.” She points toward a small clearing in the woods with a ragged wood sign marking the head. “It leads to a lake, so he suggests taking a dip to cool off before heading back, so maybe put something to swim in here in your daypack.”

Josh furrows his brow. “Wait, wait, wait. We’re not really doing this, are we? Following this ridiculous schedule, doing all these…”

“Just because you can’t follow a schedule doesn’t mean we shouldn’t,” Donna replies. “And do you really want to defy the President of the United States?”

“Well, if he’s making us go hiking… and swimming,” Toby growls. “I told him, I have a healthy appreciation for the outdoors, but I prefer to be far, far away from them.”

Donna stands up. “Well I, for one, am not going to defy the President, and I think when he asks you very specific details about the hikes, you might want to have some answers for him. Come on, the sooner we get started the less heat we’ll have to deal with.”

“Because this isn’t bad enough?” CJ asks, wiping her brow. The humidity is already oppressive even at nine in the morning.

“Come on California girl,” Toby teases, “aren’t you used to this?”

In unison, Sam and CJ respond with, “It’s a dry heat!”

Josh pulls several files out of his backpack, carries them back to the cabin, and sighs. “It’s going to be a long day.”

—

Donna isn’t sure who does the most complaining in the mile and a half hike. Josh probably complains the most audibly, but there’s something to be said for Toby’s constant glares at everything that constitutes nature and Sam’s intentional, hefty sighs at every single step. CJ is quiet about her discontent, but she doesn’t seem particularly happy either.

Perhaps they really did need an opportunity to learn how to appreciate nature.

The hike isn’t all too steep, although you wouldn’t know that from the way Josh and Toby are panting when they finally reach the swimming hole the President indicated in his instructions.

“Here it is,” Donna says with a smile. The water is set up against a cliff edge, and there are thin streams falling over the edge. It’s really an idyllic place, but none of the staffers seem particularly enthralled.

Still, they’re all hot and sweaty, and so Sam pulls off his shirt and wades into the water, and CJ follows. Toby grumbles, but the prospect of cooling off is too great for him to resist.

Donna is about to take a dip when she notices Josh’s hesitation to go in. He sits at the edge, dipping his toes in, but not looking as if he will go any further.

“Don’t want to swim?”

He shrugs. “Someone has to watch our stuff. You know, because of the bears. Or the tourists. They’re probably Republican tourists, in this part of Virginia.”

She looks at him critically. “Josh… Do you know how to swim?”

“I grew up in Connecticut, of course I know how to swim!” he snaps. “I just don’t want to!” There’s sweat beading on his forehead. There’s no way he doesn’t want to swim.

Donna frowns and takes a seat next to him, dipping her toes in as well. “Why not?”

Josh looks straight ahead at his own soaking feet. “I don’t have another shirt in my pack,” he says quietly.

“Well then, take it…” she begins, and then she sees something in his eyes. He’s still self-conscious about his bare chest. She grabs his hand and smiles at him. “It’s fine. I’ve seen it before.”

Josh shakes his head. “They haven’t.”

“They’re not going to care,” Donna assures him. “They were all there. They don’t need an explanation.” She briefly wonders if he ever had to explain it to Amy.

“Yeah,” he says, his face still grim.

She tugs on his sleeve gently. “Anyway, you’re going to be neck-deep in there anyway, so if you dive in fast, no one will even see anything.”

“I guess,” Josh says.

“I’m not going to go in if you don’t, and I really want to go in, so I’ll be rather upset with you if you don’t go in,” Donna threatens.

He lifts an eyebrow. “So this is on me now?”

“It’s your call,” she challenges.

In one smooth motion, he tears off his shirt and pulls Donna up into his arms, holding her against his chest and taking a few steps into the water. She shrieks as he drops her in a deeper part of the swimming hole. “That good enough for you?” he asks with a grin.

“You shouldn’t be doing that,” she chides, although there’s a smile on her face too. “You’re a cruel man.”

He splashes her with quite a bit of force. “You asked for it. I’m just trying to be an outdoorsman.”

--

Sam practically has to be dragged out of the water, but as the sun nears its high point, everyone agrees that they sooner they get back to the camp, the better. They manage to make it back faster, thanks to the downhill slope and Toby’s urgency to get back to something even slightly resembling civilization.

“What’s on the schedule now?” CJ asks through a bite of the pre-packed sandwiches that the President sent with them. A good thing, too, since none of them are fantastic cooks even in normal circumstances, and certainly none of them know how to cook over a fire.

Donna pulls the piece of paper out of her daypack and skims it. “Well, there’s a couple choices until our second hike at 6. Either working on the speech, or as he puts it, taking a Thoreau-like approach to extolling the virtues of nature…”

“He’s really going to put me through all of this and then tell me to emulate Thoreau?” Toby interrupts indignantly. “That pretentious mother—“

Josh raises an eyebrow and cuts Toby off with a, “So how about those of us who are under any circumstances not allowed to touch the President’s speeches?”

“We ask for your input when we need it, Josh, it’s just… you’re not the most eloquent of writers,” Sam tries to say diplomatically. Toby, still fuming, nods in agreement.

Josh rolls his eyes. “I like to be direct. Sue me.”

“See, that kind of attitude in speechwriting is what gets the President sued,” Toby shoots back.

Donna clears her throat, giving a barely concealed glare to the staffers before her. “Anyway, Josh, in answer to your question, he suggested you could take a nap.”

His brow furrowed, Josh lets out a little snort. “A nap? What is this, kindergarten?”

“Sometimes I think so.” This from CJ, who hasn’t managed to get her head out of her hands in several minutes.

“I remember a time when you were extolling the virtues of naps to me,” Donna says sweetly, folding up the schedule and putting it back in her bag.

Josh sighs and leans back into the log he’s sitting against dramatically. “Can everyone please stop using the things I said while I was on many, many drugs that made me kind of loopy against me?”

“Never, mi amor,” CJ says, standing up and patting his shoulder. “I’m going to take advantage of the once chance I’ll ever get in this administration to take a nap. Any interest in joining me, Tobias?” she asks with a smirk.

Toby raises an eyebrow. “No, because I have to emulate a pretentious dick who thought he knew everything about nature because he was living in the backyard of his in-laws.”

“I quite enjoy Thoreau, actually,” Sam begins to interrupt.

“Of course you do,” Toby says with a sigh, pulling out a legal pad and a pen. “Come on, let’s get to writing this. Anybody know anything about national parks?”

“No,” Josh says. “I think that’s why we’re here.”

—

The afternoon passes rather pleasantly to everyone’s surprise. CJ takes her nap, Josh reads through all of the briefing memos he managed to smuggle in, and Toby and Sam bicker over the speech, but there are several pages filled by the time Donna comes out of the cabin, fresh from her own nap, and calls out that it’s almost time for their next hike.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Josh says. “One isn’t enough?”

“There are three, remember. The next one is very early tomorrow morning so we can catch the sunrise. This one is so we can catch the sunset,” Donna replies, thrusting the schedule at him.

Josh shakes his head as he looks it over. “I’m kind of regretting getting this man elected.”

Still, everyone, even Toby manages to traipse through the woods and up get another mountain to get to a west-facing lookout, where the sun is just starting to dip behind the mountains.

“Is this inspiring you?” CJ teases, stretched out on one of the benches at the lookout. The sky really is turning very pretty, the sunset a fiery orange with hints of pink.

Toby shrugs. “I don’t think the colors of a sunset are relevant to this speech, but sure.”

“I have to say, I think the Midwest does sunsets better. All that open sky…” Donna says. She’s seating on the other bench, and Josh is next to her, his arm stretched around the back of the bench and his fingers just barely grazing the top of her shoulder. The distance between them is acceptable, but only just.

“Do you miss it? Wisconsin?”

Donna bites her lip. “Sometimes? Sometimes I’ll think about a walk I used to take, or about the ice cream shop I would always go to with my friends, or about the view from my dorm when I lived on the top floor, and I feel a little bit of homesickness. But then I think about how amazing it is to live here, and how much I’ve accomplished since I left, and well… I can’t say I regret leaving.”

Josh chuckles. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Donna turns back to look at the sunset and hopes that no one notices that her eyes are beginning to water with what could be tears.

—

“Okay, dinner now? I”m starving.” Sam says, when they come back from their sunset expedition to the camp. Darkness is beginning to settle, so they’ve set up a few lanterns, but it still feels incomplete.

“We have hot dogs for roasting,” Donna says. “You know, good camp food.”

“That means we need a fire,” Sam says, exchanging a glance with Josh. “We can do that.”

CJ and Donna share a look of concern. “Last time you tried to start a fire, you almost set the White House ablaze,” CJ says cautiously.

“But we successfully started a fire,” Josh points out. “And if it wasn’t indoors in a fireplace with the flue welded shut, we would have been successful.”

Donna has to give them this. “Okay. Go find some firewood and get it started. I think we’re all starting to get hungry.”

Josh grabs a lantern and gives Donna a grin. “Let’s go, Sam.”

While Donna unpacks the food they were sent for dinner, Josh and Sam come back with arms full of wood, Sam looking the worse for wear with several scratches all over his body and what looks like it could be blood.

“Sam! What happened?” CJ exclaims, looking him over.

“I got into a fight with a blackberry bush,” Sam mutters. So not blood, at least, CJ thinks with a sigh of relief.

Josh drops his armful of wood by the pit. “The bush won.”

“Do you need any bandages or anything? They sent us an extensive first aid kid, because I’m sure they know how clumsy you are.” CJ takes Sam’s armful of wood and kneels down next to Josh. “Show me, how do we do this?”

While Sam washes himself off with a water bottle and pulls out the last few thorns, Josh manages to get a fairly impressive fire going. Donna passes around hot dogs and everyone begins to roast theirs, although Sam drops at least two in the fire. Josh intentionally sets his on fire, charring it until anyone else would regard it as inedible.

Perhaps, they all begin to think as they laugh around the fire, for once able to focus on something besides work, this camping thing isn’t so bad. The stress of the election has been weighing heavily on all of them, but they’ve spent almost a whole day without pondering electoral math or congressional seats.

The fire slowly dies, and once it’s down to only the embers, everyone slowly begins to peel off and say good night.

--

CJ blinks and lets her eyes adjust to the dark before picking up her lantern and padding softly out of the cabin. She would blame her inability to sleep on the nap she took earlier in the day throwing off her schedule, but she knows that’s not the entirety of it.

To her surprise, the fire is still going when she emerges, and there’s someone still seated on a log by it.

“Josh?” she whispers softly, and he turns to face her with the barest trace of a smile.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks.

“No. You?”

He shrugs and pokes at the fire with a stick. “Didn’t want to,” he says. “Toby snores.”

“And so you’re just going to spend the whole night out here?”

“Probably.”

“Just because Toby snores?”

Josh doesn’t answer, but CJ turns to look at him and can see the set of his jaw and the tension in his face. And she has an idea of what might be going on.

“Josh, have you been having nightmares lately?” she asks, her voice soft.

She didn’t think his body could show any more tension, but he immediately tenses up even more at her question. “Why would you think that?”

“Because I have, too,” she admits. She can see some of the tension fall away from his shoulders, although he still seems guarded.

“About what?”

CJ bites her lip. “Simon, mostly. Which is ridiculous, I mean, I wasn’t there. And that was three months ago, and I wasn’t even there.”

He reaches out and grabs her hand, squeezing it. “You can easily imagine it though, because you know what it’s like to be shot at,” he concludes.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t. I don’t even remember it, really, and I still have nightmares,” he tells her. “It’s not ridiculous, CJ. Believe me.”

She sighs. “I just… they went away for a while. I thought I was doing better, I thought I was over my grief, and then this last week… well, let’s just say my nap this afternoon as the only time this week I woke up from something other than a nightmare.”

“Well, it was two years to the day a few days ago when we got shot at,” Josh says. “Because I haven’t slept much this week either.”

CJ takes a look at him, his tired eyes and the vulnerability present on his face that so few get to see. She feels privileged to see it. “I hadn’t even thought of that,” she admits, “but I’m sure that doesn’t help.”

“It’ll get better again,” Josh says. “You’ll notice that you’ve gone weeks, even months, without something. The grief never quite goes away, but the fear does.”

“Okay,” she replies, her voice choked up a little. If it were anyone else saying this to her, she’d probably be annoyed, but she knows that Josh speaks from experience and is telling the truth. “So you and I, it’s going to be a sleepless night for the two of us?”

He smiles at her and leans further back against the log. “Claudia Jean, are you propositioning me?”

“Only if you want it,” she teases.

—

Donna doesn’t end up needing the alarm she set on her watch because her internal clock is set to absurdly early mornings anyway. It’s mostly still dark when she gets up, but as she emerges from the cabin, she can see that there’s still a fire going, and that CJ and Josh are in front of it, seating against a log. CJ’s head is resting on Josh’s shoulder. If Donna didn’t know the completely platonic nature of their relationship, she would have been jealous, and even though she knows Josh and CJ see each other as siblings, she still has to bite back a bit of jealousy as she approaches them.

“Hey,” she says, “you two slept out here?”

Josh blinks and looks up at her. “I guess we did sleep,” he says. “I didn’t think we’d manage.”

CJ smiles. “Who knew your shoulder made such a nice pillow?”

He tries to push himself up from the ground and winces. “Well, this log did not,” he says. “Is it really time to get started already?”

“Our sunrise hike awaits,” Donna says, with a look on her face that’s somewhere between a smile and a grimace. “Who’s going to have to wake up Toby and Sam?”

“I say we wake up Sam, and then make him wake up Toby,” Josh says. “I didn’t bring my full-body armor with me.”

—

As it turns out, the sunrise hike is an eight-mile loop, with east-facing lookout about two miles into the trek. Toby, already furious about being woken up, is absolutely fuming at the fact that there are six more miles to go after the sunrise stop. “What kind of a man makes you go on a hike at five in the morning, and then extends It so you’re going to be on this trail all day?”

“I’m finding I don’t hate hiking as much as I thought I did,” Josh says. “But I’m sleep-deprived, so don’t hold that against me.”

“Josh, if you used sleep deprivation as an excuse every time, we’d never be able to call you out for anything you’ve ever said,” CJ points out.

Sam sighs. He’s looking much better now that he’s not covered in blackberry juice, but his arm and leg and the side of his face are still very scratched up. “I just want to take a shower.”

“Ten more hours until they’ll take us home,” Donna says. She doesn’t even have to look at the schedule anymore; her memory is freakishly good sometimes.

They reach a clearing near the top of one of the mountains that has some large rocks and a few benches.  They’re above most of the other elevations around them, so they have a clear view of the sun beginning to peek out over the hills before them.

“We never see sunrises or sunsets,” Donna notes. “I think it’s usually dark when I get to the White House and dark when I leave.”

CJ lets out a laugh and perches on a rock. “That’s when we actually manage to leave.”

Donna reaches into her backpack and hands out granola bars. “Breakfast, anyone?”

“Any coffee?” Josh asks.

“There’s a pot to boil water back at camp and a thing of instant coffee,” Donna says.

He groans. “So none here?”

“You should really try to become a less caffeinated life form.”

“Tried that for three months. Worst three months of my life.”

“Just because of the coffee?”

Josh grabs a granola bar from her and takes a seat on one of the benches. “Because of the gunshot wound, but you know, the lack of coffee didn’t help.”

“Will you just shut up and enjoy the sunrise?” CJ asks. “Because I’m not going to see one for another four years.”

Josh clears his throat after a bite of the granola bar. “You really believe that? We’ve got another four years left in us?”

“The President’s in fighting mode. He won’t back down,” CJ says. “And we’re not going to let him, are we?”

Sam smiles. “Absolutely not.”

Through a bite of his granola bar, Toby mumbles, “Careful about tempting fate.”

“We’re not tempting fate,” CJ says, “but we’re renewing our fight. We’ve been so bogged down in reelection struggles that it feels like we’ve lost sight of what we’re fighting for. But you know what Richie wants to do for places like this?”

“Tear them down,” Toby mutters.

“But Jed Bartlet wants to build them up. Build more of them. Let people come to appreciate the outdoors, to see the sunrise, to protect the natural treasures of this country. If we never get to see the sunrise, we should make sure it’s because we’re working long and hard to ensure that other people have that chance here, and at places like this.” Her voice is beginning to get excited. “And that’s only one of the many reasons we’re fighting to show the voters our vision of America. The one that protects the treasures we have, and seeks to provide the best for our citizens. That’s why we’re fighting from before sunrise to after sunset. So what do we say? Four more years?”

Josh grins and holds up the remaining half of his granola bar in a sort of toast. “Four more years!” he shouts out over the mountains.

There’s a chorus of exclamations that no one but them will ever hear, but as the sun rises, there’s a bit of weariness lifted off of each of them. The last four years have been interminably long and difficult, but they are all instilled with a sense of new energy for what they do.

“So that’s what you’re like on sleep deprivation?” Josh teases CJ, as they leave the clearing and set out on the next part of their hike.

“See why that excuse will never work?”

“Fine, but I still stand by the fact that I said a lot of things on heavy drugs that I didn’t mean.”

“Such as being an outdoorsman?” Donna pipes up.

“See, after this weekend, I think I stand by that one.”

——

The Secret Service takes them all back to the White House, rather than to their apartments, and they’re all directed to the Oval Office, where President Bartlet sits behind the desk expectantly.

“You all made it back in one piece!” he says with delight. “I was sure a bear was going to eat one of you; my money was on Toby.” He takes in Sam’s scratched up face. “Except for you, Sam. What happened there?”

“I fought a blackberry bush, and the bush won,” Sam mumbles.

“You did all the hikes?” the President asks.

Toby grimaces. “Donna forced us to.”

“I knew she’d keep you on track,” he says, and Donna beams in response. “And the speech?”

“Needs revision and typing up, but it’s quite good, if I do say so myself,” Sam says, although Toby shoots him a glare, clearly not as pleased with the quality of writing.

“Excellent, excellent. And you two,” the President says, looking at Josh and CJ, “how did you find it?”

CJ smiles. “Quite enlightening, sir. I’m instilled with a new sense of energy. That said, I’d like to go home and get some sleep.” Josh nods in agreement.

“Yes, yes, of course,” the President says. “But senior staff tomorrow, I’m going to have to hear more. God, I can’t wait to open this new national park.”

They all file out of the Oval Office, but Josh hangs back behind the others and grabs Donna’s arm. “Do you have a ride home?”

“I was going to take the metro,” Donna says. “My car’s on the fritz again.”

He shakes his head. “No, don’t. Not will all that stuff. I’ll give you a ride.”

Donna’s about to protest, especially since he definitely seems too tired to be driving, but she considers it and nods in agreement. At least she can make sure he doesn’t fall asleep at the wheel.

“I’m glad you were there,” he says. “I don’t know if I would have made it through this weekend without you.”

She blushes at the compliment. “I’m sure you would have been fine. After all, you proved that you are, in fact, an outdoorsman.”

“Still,” he says, with a surprising amount of sincerity, “the outdoors is so much more fun with you there.”

[x--daughters-of-darkness--x]

Cristina Scabbia x Diablo: Inside metal and gaming’s most devilish crossover yet

Outstanding hack-and-slash remaster Diablo II: Resurrected isn’t just about polishing up the beloved original’s relentless fire and brimstone. In a striking collaboration with Lacuna Coil songstress Cristina Scabbia and bizarro YouTube star Mark The Hammer, it’s inspired the latest crossover between video games and heavy music, too…

When Cristina Scabbia first picked up the joypad, she had no idea she was steering herself onto a path that would still be throwing up juicy side-missions three decades down the line. A young teenager in northern Italy during the mid-’80s first generation video game boom, the future Lacuna Coil frontwoman didn’t have the spare cash for the cutting-edge equipment of the time, whose 128-colour palettes and blocky two-dimensional sprites felt utterly futuristic. When a local friend powered up David Crane’s 1982 masterpiece Pitfall! on their Atari 2600, however, it opened the doors to another world.

“I’ve been a gamer for quite a while,” her eyes light up at the memory. ​“I love video games. I love what you can learn from them. I love the stories they tell…”

Few games are as darkly compelling as Blizzard Entertainment’s legendary Diablo series. Bringing to life the dark fantasy realm of Sanctuary – a midpoint between the High Heavens and Burning Hells – its trio of classic titles chronicle the eternal conflict between mankind and the demonic legions led by Diablo, fearsome Destroyer Of Souls. When David Brevik’s original landed in 1996, it was a literal game-changer for the industry, raising the bar in terms of depth and detail, storytelling and character-building. 2000’s Diablo II raised it again, still revered by hardcore gamers as the greatest action-RPG of all, while 2012’s Diablo III brought the franchise into the modern era.

Fittingly, it’s against that shadowy backdrop that Cristina joins us today, to discuss Start Again, her musical collaboration with the minds behind thrilling 3D, HD remaster Diablo II: Resurrected.

Speaking from her high-backed gaming chair in front of an impressive PC set-up this morning, she looks ready for battle. A laid-back, dressed-down counterpart to her imposing onstage alter-ego, she is surrounded by stacks of proudly-displayed paraphernalia, from a plushie of Gremlins’ Gizmo and photos of her band, to figurines of her favourite virtual characters, spare controllers, and the ubiquitous energy drink refrigerator.

Anyone familiar with Cristina’s Twitch streams wondering if this might be a carefully-arranged studio space should think again. ​“It’s actually part of my living room,” she laughs. ​“There’s this big table that was supposed to be for dinners with friends, but as we would go out to eat instead, I decided to use it for something that I like, and filled it with computers, monitors and consoles.

“It’s where I play. It’s where I stream from. It’s the safe space.”

Diablo’s heroes work best when joining forces, and 30 minutes further north, in the town of Saronno, we meet Marco Arata – AKA YouTube sensation Mark The Hammer – Cristina’s collaborator on Start Again, and a playful like mind. ​“I was three years old when I first played on a Game Boy,” he smiles into the light of a bank of monitors, ​“and I never stopped.”

For readers not in the know, Mark is the uber-talented multi-instrumentalist who’s gained a reputation for uploading incisive, tongue-in-cheek videos to YouTube like Irritating Guitar Lessons and How To Create A Black Metal Song… Without Any Talent. Learning piano aged eight, he quickly graduated to electric guitar, bass and drums. He’s since been picked up as the live guitarist/keyboardist for Italian pop-hip-hop icon J‑Ax. The main Mark The Hammer YouTube channel has more than half a million subscribers, while its English-language alternative boasts close to 100,000.

Both accomplished, analytical, artistic minds, it feels key to Start Again’s success that the duo see gaming as a chance to switch off – less interested in graphics and game engines than narrative drive and world-building.

“Whenever you listen to a song as a musician, you have your brain working, thinking about what exactly is going on,” explains Mark. ​“I’m a big fan of acting and drama, too, and the same thing applies when you watch a movie. But when you pick up that game pad, you’re able to relax and [switch that part of your brain off]. It’s the only thing in my life that I can really say is completely relaxing.”

“I know that some people prefer creating groups or being part of a competition,” agrees Cristina, noting that Diablo, in particular, fits her play style ​“but I’m more of a selfish, solitary player. I don’t want to feel that competition while I play. I want to be able to relax and do things at my own pace, to have my own rhythm. I don’t necessarily think of games as an escape. For me, it’s a different world that I want to be part of, [parallel to] the real world. It’s not that I want to [run away and] live in the video game world. But when I’m playing, I want to stay there, I want to focus on what’s happening – I want to absorb all the vibes. It’s not just something that you’re watching: you’re part of it. You can choose your character. You can increase your power. You can pick your path and select your sides.

“There are things about this world that non-gamers could never really understand…”

Like all the best quests, it began with a message from out of the blue. Mark recalls the sense of absurdity, watching an email drop into his inbox that he couldn’t quite believe was real. “I remember opening the message and seeing that it was an opportunity to write [a song inspired by Diablo II] for the release of Diablo II: Resurrected. Oh, yeah, and you’ll have Cristina Scabbia from Lacuna Coil doing vocals. I was just like ‘What?!’”

Having dropped video game soundtrack cover albums Hammer Games Vols 1 and 0 in 2015 and 2016 respectively, Mark had pedigree in the field, but he struggled to comprehend the opportunity for such a high-profile collaboration.

“This is the game that I bought as a 14-year-old when it first came out back in the year 2000,” he fishes out his original CD-ROM jewel case for an unsubtle flex, ​“and you’re asking me to write an official song to go with it? That in itself is mind-blowing. But to be able to do that with the greatest singer in Italian metal?! I thought it was some sort of strange spam at first. When I realised that it wasn’t, it became amazing on so many levels.”

Not a huge fan of YouTube (nor, presumably, of the hack-and-slash sub-genre), Cristina’s manager didn’t quite know what to make of the invitation. Fortunately, having followed one of Lacuna Coil’s old guitarists through a laptop screen and into Sanctuary all those years ago, and already a fan of Mark’s videos, she didn’t take much convincing.

“I was just like, ​‘Mark The Hammer? I follow him!’” she grins. ​“Then, when they told me the project was to write a song for Diablo II: Resurrected, I immediately said yes. If you look back at interviews that I did years ago, whenever they asked me what dream I had or what is missing from my body of work, I’ve always said that I’d like to write something for a video game. When this came along, it was like, ​‘Hello…’”

Cristina admits that she struggled with writer’s block over lockdown. Having watched her native Italy become one of the first countries crippled by the spread of COVID-19, she was unwilling to create music with the power to transport her back to those most troubled of times. Compared to the glacial pace of the music industry over the last 18 months, however, dropping in at crunch time in a massive game’s release schedule came as an invigorating change of pace. The first message exchanged between Cristina and Mark was on August 23, with the song due online to coincide with Diablo II: Resurrected’s launch exactly a month later.

“When you have a deadline, it can either throw you down or really speed everything up and add an excitement,” Cristina muses. ​“For us, it was definitely the latter. We were perhaps a little bit tense about not knowing each other. Any time you’re working with someone new, you ask yourself these questions: ​‘Is he going to be nice? Is he going to be an asshole? Is he going to have the same ideas that I have? The same creativity? The same speed?’

“As soon as we started to text, though, I realised that Mark was really relaxed, really funny. He’s like me. We would send and receive messages in the middle of the night, and get immediate replies. It was like we’d opened the floodgates on an ocean of ideas.”

A high level of fandom was pivotal. Diablo’s angels and monsters – Greater and Lesser Evils – seem like characters lifted from metal album covers to begin with, and the chaotic action that spills from the streets of Tristram and the slopes of Mount Arreat that go down into the depths of Hell could hardly be better suited to metalheads who’re never happier than when throwing down in the pit. Cristina and Mark’s preferred player classes – Sorceress and Barbarian, respectively – even mirror their onstage personas. To simply phone in the sort of crowd-pleasing banger either of these musicians could write in their sleep would be to do the project a deep disservice.

Cristina reckons that if Diablo were a band, it would be either Judas Priest – all OTT outfits, pointy edges and demonic imagery – or Rammstein, spewing sheer pyrotechnic bombast. Mark contends that the larger-than-life, battle-obsessed aesthetic of Iron Maiden might be a better match, pointing out that many of the most monstrous iterations of Ed The Head wouldn’t look out of place in its deepest dungeons. We’d argue that the ominous, folky atmospherics of peak Opeth even more closely evoke the playing experience, echoing Matt Uleman’s iconic original score.

In the same way that Diablo II: Resurrected marks an upgrade for players in 2021 while maintaining the original’s dark heart – dynamic lighting, three-dimensional rendering and high-definition presentation bringing the action sharply up to date – this song needed to pay respect while still packing enough heft to make an impact on metal fans in 2021.

“Diablo is such an iconic game,” nods Mark. ​“I knew the original score. I knew the original atmosphere. I knew where it had to go, more or less. But it was a challenge to make something new while paying respect to the original. There were parts where I wasn’t sure where I was going, but as soon as Cristina got really into the project and added her vocals, it felt like everything [clicked].”

“Mark’s involvement was crucial,” Cristina presses. ​“Looking at that original soundtrack, I was thinking, ​‘This is such a classic – it’s so iconic – but it’s not singable.’ It felt like putting a voice over the top would ruin it. But as soon as I heard the music that Mark had written, it changed everything. He made it singable. He created so many different parts, that offered so many different scenes, so many different moods. There are atmospheric parts, but there are also heavier parts. It’s like a journey, from beginning to end…”

Part sweeping re-score, part fan’s perspective love letter, part limb-swinging metal banger, the finished track feels like a striking bridge between worlds. Is the aim for fans who’ve yet to discover the pleasures of metal or gaming to be able to walk across it?

“The worlds of metal and gaming have always been strongly connected,” reckons Cristina, highlighting the fact that they’re both tightly-knit outsider communities fascinated by the dark and fantastical, which can appear intimidating to outsiders looking in. Although she and Mark will happily welcome new fans, the main priority was to write a great song, hopefully tightening the bond between communities that already exists. ​“It’s a lifestyle,” she gestures. ​“If you see a metalhead, there’s a strong chance you’ll be able to talk about games – or vice-versa.”

Indeed, the lines have increasingly blurred over the last couple of decades. Countless rockers found their way into the world via the legendary Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater soundtracks. The Guitar Hero franchise brought songs as unusual DragonForce​’s Through The Fire And The Flames, Lamb Of God​’s Laid To Rest and Slayer​’s Raining Blood – not to forget Lacuna Coil’s Closer – into the non-metalhead sphere. Celebrities as high profile as Tenacious D​’s Jack Black have spearheaded their own digital-metal crossovers, while Avenged Sevenfold​’s M. Shadows cropped up as a playable character in Call Of Duty: Black Ops 4. Gamers have even increasingly taken to wearing branded T‑shirts a la those of their favourite bands, enabling them to recognise each other on the street.

On the other side of the coin, bleeding-edge artists like The Armed, Refused and Run The Jewels have recently been inspired to write specifically for games. Svalbard​’s Serena Cherry just started a one-woman black metal side-project called Noctule, dedicated to her favourite epic RPG. Hell, Cristina even tells us that pounding compositions by djent-influenced video game soundtrack maestro Mick Gordon are amongst the most listened on her personal playlist.

It’s down to a change in perspective, Cristina reckons, where intelligent eye for detail is now considered every bit as cool as a debauched hell-raiser attitude. Games’ intricate storytelling and epic design are recognised as on par with the finest parts of cinema, and e‑sports competitions regularly boast larger prize pots than those of their athletic counterparts.

“I was always part of the nerd world,” she says, with more than a hint of vindication. ​“A few years ago, it felt like it was almost something to be ashamed of to admit that you’re a nerd, as if you had this weird, ridiculous aura. But now, everybody – all these people who were never interested – seem to want to be involved in this world. I [sometimes think], ​‘Nah, you need to prove you’re really into it…’”

She’s not kidding. As if that massive cache of gaming equipment – from the original PlayStation to countless Game Boys and computer components – wasn’t proof enough, Cristina has even appeared as playable character The Shadow Sorceress in Iron Maiden’s ever-evolving Legacy Of The Beast mobile game. ​“It was such an honour, such a pleasure to create my own character and give all the directions for the outfit, which was basically the outfit I was wearing on the last Lacuna Coil tour before lockdown,” she grins.

Going even geekier, Lacuna Coil also just launched their own Horns Up tabletop card game, where players must fight their way to the front of the stage. ​“It’s something we’re all really interested in, but particularly our bassist Maki [Coti Zelati],” Cristina continues. ​“Every card is related to metal clichés. We even gave our fans the opportunity to see themselves on one of the cards…”

Although Lacuna Coil maintained their high-drama presence with September 2020’s Black Anima: Live From The Apocalypse stream and June 2021’s live album of the same name, Cristina was keen to use the time off to introduce fans to her character away from the band, emboldened to set up her own channel on Twitch.

“I just wanted to learn new things which could enrich my baggage of knowledge,” she enthuses. ​“I’m already singing, already writing, but I don’t want to fixate on those. Life is made up of so many different things that can enrich my music and my creativity. I was already a Twitch user, watching other people play games, but I didn’t know what my purpose was. I almost felt scared at first. I am a singer. I am somehow an entertainer. I like to talk, which is clear. But it’s different when you’re talking to a lot of people for a couple of hours – or more!

“Eventually, I decided to keep it as informal as I could so that people could see how Cristina is at home. Cristina isn’t just the singer of Lacuna Coil: I have a house, I have a life, I have passions, I have my own personality. I just wanted people to discover that. Luckily they also like this quirky side of me, which feels like the opposite that dark goth lady that so many people know. As much as I didn’t have purpose in the beginning, there’s now such a strong community every time I go online – such a clean place to exchange good vibes!”

Even the persistent undertones of sexism and misogyny that have plagued gaming, she pushes, are a speed bump to be put in the rearview, comparable to what she experienced when first making her name in heavy music.

“In metal, I encountered the same problem,” she explains, bluntly. “[Women becoming a major presence in the community] was something new, and when something is new, people have suspicions and doubts. They don’t know how to deal with it. But there are a lot of female gamers now, and a lot of females in metal. It’s been normalised, which it should be, because games and metal are for everyone.”

As the world comes back up to speed, hectic schedules mean that attention is turning away from screens, and back towards studio and stage. Mark is churning out more and more top-class YouTube content. Cristina has a packed diary, with a tribute concert for late collaborator Franco Battiato at the spectacular Arena di Verona this week, and another secretive collaboration in the works, not to mention writing for Lacuna Coil’s 10th LP, which has just begun – her creative fires reignited by bringing Start Again to life.

Having dipped toes in the video game world, though, they’re both keen to return.

“I really hope we do,” Cristina says. ​“As a fan of video games, it’s such a great chance to bring together these different passions in your life. There are so many different things I’d like to do, and places I’d like to explore in this world, but time is limited!”

“I loved the challenge here, and the process of collaboration,” nods Mark. ​“If we could work together again when it comes time to make Diablo IV, that would be amazing. I’d love the opportunity to have my own playable character in an Iron Maiden video game, too, but I’m not sure that’s achievable!”

“I thought the same thing,” grins Cristina, ever adventurous, as we wave farewell. ​“Never say never!”

Diablo II: Resurrected is out now on Nintendo Switch, PS4, PS5, Xbox One, Xbox X/S and PC.

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

Dick and Jason are Robins at the same time

(titans ‘verse. au after 1.06)

(tagging @superohclair and @cautiousamber!)

-

1.

dick has to admit that it’s not the worst arrangement: jason continues to be robin in gotham, and dick travels across the country with his little family while running from a homicidal cult, wearing the costume every now and then when he has no choice but to fight. this way batman is covered, dick still has access to some advanced gear and weaponry now that he needs it, and internet sleuths are kept on their toes when robin shows up in different ends of the country on the same day.

so what if reading news coverage of batman and robin in gotham feels like being punched in the chest, or hearing jason’s stories about learning new things from bruce everyday makes dick want to scream into a pillow? he is fine with this.

he. is. fine--

(kory knows he’s fraying at the edges. she watches, and she says nothing.)

2.

the fight to help rachel and defeat trigon is long and hard, and involves painstakingly unravelling kory’s memories. they manage to find her spaceship, and it becomes their base for a good long while. they stay there long enough that dick loses some of the tension that’s had him on edge for... well. the better part of the last five years, to be honest.

dick begins training rachel and gar in earnest. kory is able to coax some memories of tamaranean cuisine and culture out, and dick is reminded more and more of the team that he lost everyday. despite his best efforts he’s invested now. he cooks and dances with kory (good thing he’s so flexible because the tamaranean version of a waltz is like a particularly sadistic game of twister), teaches rachel algebra and does yoga with gar. he even manages to forget about bruce for a bit.

jason shows up quite often when he figures out where they’re based, and after some initial tension, he becomes an unofficial member of their team (though at this stage dick is still reluctant to use that word). dick and jason patrol in the nearby city some nights, then go for ice cream later. dick’s even starting to see the strategic (and frankly comedic) potential of two robins on the same patrol. 

time and familiarity softens how dick perceives jason: less reckless asshole and more bright young kid full of curiosity and a need to prove himself. he continues to tend towards gratuitous violence, but dick learns his triggers and helps jason recognise them as well. he soaks up the info on alien cultures and battles on kory’s ship faster than dick himself could hope to, and there is a terrible sort of tenderness to how he talks to the people he saves while on patrol. terrible, dick thinks, because he doesn’t know if he comes across like that now at all: soft and empathetic instead of aloof and shaking, too caught up in his own neuroses.

here’s the thing, the crux of it, the faultline that’s always threatening to break dick apart: he’s so afraid that he’s taken robin, his legacy, the ideals and persona that he modelled as a tribute to his parents, and made it into something so dark and broken that only batman could pass it on. jason showing up as his replacement one day only seemed to affirm that fear. but now, swinging through the skies with this kid who’s taken robin as an opportunity to learn and grow and be better, dick’s reminded of the best of his early days in the costume. 

for the first time in what feels like forever, dick feels good about putting on the robin costume again.

3.

(are you asking if dick tried to call home? of course he did. he chickens out and cuts the call to bruce after only a few rings, and feels a sad sort of vindication in noticing how bruce never attempts to call him back.

alfred picks up his call on the second ring, and dick feels like the smallest person in the world when he hears the genuine warmth, joy and relief in alfred’s voice as he greets him. there’s no excuse for dick refusing to talk to the man that practically raised him after his parents died and he knows it. 

they talk for an hours while skirting around anything to do with bruce, which is an impressive feat all in itself. they finally talk about jason, and there’s a wistful sort of fondness in alfred’s voice as he says, “you’ve been a good influence on master jason.”

dick laughs. “he’s been a good influence on me.” it’s the first time he’s said it loud, but it feels true.

“you mustn’t underestimate the ways in which you change people, master dick,” alfred says. “you have been a light in our lives for so long.”

dick’s jaw clenches. all his memories of batman smudge together in never-ending shadow; when he thinks of bruce, he can only remember that remote expression on his face, that expression dick can project all his disgust and loathing and disappointment onto. maybe people should start considering how they influence me, dick wants to say. sometimes i can’t recognise who i’m seeing in the mirror every day and other times i hate him so much i want to--

“i miss you, alf,” he says instead, softly.

“my dear boy,” alfred starts, but he sounds choked. it’s ok. dick understands.)

4.

things get worse, quickly. their enemies find and destroy their spaceship base, and they’re not nearly ready to take on trigon yet. they’re on the run again, alternating between motel rooms and empty warehouses. 

the cult finally catches up to them; they are kidnapped and tortured for days in an abandoned asylum. they eventually escape, the building and the organisation in flames behind them, but the scars from the experience are deep: rachel is anxious and tearful almost all the time, gar’s usual cheer is replaced by a quiet, simmering self-loathing, kory refuses to talk about her experience but flinches at every touch, and dick... he feels like he’s been flayed, his mind and body laid raw and bleeding until nothing recognisable, nothing human is left. he can’t think, he can barely feel. half the time it feels like he’s observing what’s happening to him like it’s happening to somebody else entirely.

they’re a mess. he can’t do this, not when he feels like--like this. he resists calling anybody for help, but one night he breaks down and calls donna. he doesn’t remember what he says on the call, but wakes up the next morning, eyes raw, tear tracks on his face, and a text from donna that says: i’ll be there in a day. stay put, bw,

“wow you’re a mess,” jason says from a corner of the room. any other time, dick would be on his feet, demanding to know how jason found them. now though, he’s feeling out of his body again, and so he says, “i kind of am, aren’t i?” and watches the words float, parting the air above him.

jason sighs.

being with donna helps get his head on straight, even though at first her appearance threatened to bring back even more traumatic memories. she’s a soothing, sobering presence not just for him, but for the others as well. they continue to motel-hop as they prepare for their big final battle against trigon.

jason continues to find them, somehow. (dick wouldn’t put installing a tracker on one of them beyond him, but he’s much too tired to feel angry about that.) he chats with dick and sometimes they bond by watching a movie together or swinging from buildings in the chill, crisp night air, jason’s cackling laugh echoing in dick’s ears. 

jason always leaves as quickly as he appears, but dick is grateful for his presence.

5.

they defeat trigon, and there’s a party. even hank and dawn show up. jason is conspicuous in his absence.

after several unanswered texts and calls, dick bites the bullet and calls alfred. “hey alf,” he says when the man picks up, “is jason there?”

there’s a long pause at the other end of the line. then: “did master bruce not tell you?” his voice sounds uncharacteristically hoarse.

dick’s stomach starts to sink. he steps away from the others and into a quiet room. “tell me what?”

“master jason...” alfred sighs. “he--he was killed by the joker two months ago. the funeral was last week.”

dick stumbles back to sit on the bed. the phone threatens to fall from his numb fingers even while his heart thunders against his ribs. “that’s impossible,” he manages. “i saw him five days ago. we saw--” there’s a hysterical laugh building in his chest, howling like a thunderstorm, “fuck we saw moulin rogue together. he told me how much he fucking loves musicals, i--”

alfred’s voice is suddenly distant and tinny. dick looks down to see his phone on the floor. he’s suddenly very, very aware of the dryness of his palms, the hot flush at the tips of his ears, the tears that are starting to slide down his cheeks, the way his lungs are burning with shock and grief and rage--

“hey, dickie,” jason says, smiling at him. “glad you finally caught up.”

-

( send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons! )

[hlcreators]

AUTHOR REC: haztobegood / @haztobegood

Don’t forget show some love by leaving kudos and comments!

to be so... (228)

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[talldarkandroguesome]

28th of Last Seed, Loredas

I do not know what to do.

I explained to Nabine the situation as described to me.

She said she did not understand. When I began to explain again, she said that she had heard what I had said, but she did not know why this was happening. Why I could possibly change so, given that I had died far more times in Coldharbour and seemed to be without any changes whatsoever.

I tried to explain again about Daedric connections and my devotion and where my soul was, but she just cut me off again, saying there had to be more to it. That it could not possibly be quite such a thing.

I was at a loss. I told her I knew no more about it.

She began to tell me that I would need to find a way to earn back my soul from my Prince. That if I just did a bunch of deeds for Her, that surely, for the great service I provided, I could persuade Him to return my soul.

I gave her a forced smile. I know she knows better than to believe such a thing possible. The chance of that would be very slim and the price to pay would be great indeed.

Nabine was panicking. That much was obvious.

I kissed her and did not say anything against her suggestion as she began coming up with an ever more elaborate way of getting my soul back.

The whole contrived idea centered on getting myself to the Spiral Skein and serving my Prince there if necessary to drive my point home. That I would work as a sort of indentured servant with the final term resulting in my soul.

She was getting so agitated over the whole affair that eventually I had to sing her a song to soothe her. 

All I said was that we could take the time to come up with a solution later, that perhaps we should take a rest for now.

She laid down and said that she thought it a good idea.

I came to give her a kiss and she recoiled as though I were some vile creature.

I said I would go and see if I could find Avon to speak with and let her rest. She just nodded, as I tried to remember that it was probably not something to take personal. That probably it was just her being overwhelmed with all that was going on right now.

I sought out Avon and noticed the Farseer returning from the edge of the encampment. When I inquired if all was well, she said she was seeing Mother off.

Mother, who left without a single word to me. No explanation. Not even a message that she was returning home.

Perhaps I have become such a disgusting creature as to no longer be worthy of the women in my family.

This would be proven later when the children had finished their lessons and Nabine whisked the girls away for some Bosmeri history lessons, which she asked for privacy to conduct.

Avon, at least took things better.

Marginally.

He, too, seemed more protective of Sildras after hearing the news.

There was pity in his eyes. Worry. Fear. Avon has never been adept at obscuring his emotions, particularly from me.

While he said all the right things, perhaps even meaning them for the most part, I knew how uncomfortable he was.

So instead of spending the night with my family, I headed out to the road and went across the river, wandering the lower parts of the coiled path, careful to avoid the marshier areas where giant snakes tend to slumber.

I found a nice, large boulder and teleported myself up to the top of it and sat down. As hot and humid as it was after the earlier storm, the cool stone felt soothing to the skin, cool enough to feel through my trousers.

I felt at a loss and so I did the only thing that I could think of. I stripped down and prayed. Prayed for a solution to fixing everything. Prayed to be worth enough of love. Prayed for not having to be so thoroughly reminded of the fact that my decisions always seemed to end in my own and others’ misery. 

There came a whisper in my ear, carried along the hot, sticky breeze. In most situations I might have been angry to hear this voice after all that had happened, or ready to demand answers, but not here. Not now.

This voice was one of calm. Of comfort. A balm for all my ails.

My Prince told me that there was no such thing as a solution to everything. That my decisions were my own to make as I saw fit given what information I had. But most importantly, She told me that I was worthy of love. That I had it. That He loved me as the obedient child I was. That She would look after me as best as He could while also tending to other matters. That if I continued to serve so well over decades and centuries, that boons would be granted. Boons that would be grand enough to help soothe the fears I had.

My heart felt full to bursting. I gave praise and thanks for my Prince’s love and kind words of encouragement.

My Prince told me that a great number of things was going to occur soon. That I should prepare myself for great battle. That I should learn to master my new skills quickly so that I might aid in the battle to come.

I said that I would work hard to do that very thing. That it would be my honor and pleasure.

I could feel my Prince’s smile spread through my body. I could feel the satisfaction.

In that moment, I felt whole again. There was a warmth where my soul should be. That fullness restored.

And even after She had left, I felt so sated, that I decided not to return to the tribe for the night, spending it instead, atop the rock, my tunic draped lightly over me in case I great cold as I slumbered.

I awoke as the sun rose. I felt a pair of eyes upon me.

Startled, I turned to see a giant snake watching me.

I did not move, waiting to see what it might do.

It’s tongue flicked out into the air between us. Then to my face.

I did not move. My whole body tightened, muscles ready, my teleportation spell able to be cast in an instant.

It moved around, seemingly interested in me, but not yet in striking.

I relaxed my body and tried to even my breathing.

The snake turned and slithered off to a different rock, where it curled up in a spot the light fell upon.

I was glad not to have decided to harm the snake. Snakes are sacred to the Mabrigash and it would have greatly harmed my relationship with the Farseer and her wise women if I had come back having killed a snake when it was not necessary.

I returned to camp and Sildras and Cariel came running up to me and said they had missed me.

I lied that I was doing some training for my lessons and asked them how thiers were going, listening eagerly to the stories of what they had been doing.

I knew that Nabine might still worry about me being around our daughters, so I sent Cariel to rouse Nabine and Kuna for breakfast while Sildras and I went to work on preparing something.

It had been quite a while since he and I had an opportunity to share time together alone. And so I asked him what he would like to do when we had returned to Mournhold. Something for just the two of us. And not simply going to a library or a shop of arcane instruments or alchemy reagents. 

He thought for a long while before deciding that he would like to go for a ride in the country. And that during that time, he wanted to hear some stories about what I had done while I was away.

I asked him what he meant by when I was away. He answered that when he was much younger I had been away. He wanted to know what I had done before returning to expose the imposter who had posed as me.

It was a harsh blow, though I doubt the boy meant to land it on so bare a wound.

I nodded and told him that I could do so, but that it might bring up some unpleasant truths about his mother and about me. Things he might prefer to not know.

He reminded me that he was not going to be a child for much longer and that soon he would be sent away to Shad Astula until he reached his adulthood. He wanted to do so knowing the truth.

There was a look in his eyes, one of conviction and of fear. For such a usually shy child, to ask for so bold a request, I knew I could not deny him.

I agreed that I would do so.

He seemed to let out a large breath I did not know he had been holding and he hugged me. I kissed his brow and told him that I was sorry for not having been there more. He did not seem to know how to react to this statement, but we were interrupted by Avon’s joining us.

The Three must truly be looking out for me. 

The tribe shared breakfast together before I was taken for further lessons. The Farseer seemed even more driven to teach me than before. Yet, between the usual lessons, she also made sure to emphasize how important it was for me not to be frivolous with my ability to die. That I must try to refrain from dying as much as was possible. That I should act as though any death could be permanent. 

I told her I understood, but she gave me a scathing look and told me that I likely did not. I stayed silent. She told me that it was more than just the effect it would have on my personality if I continued to die. That over time I might grow numb to many things living as an immortal, but that if I did not wish to share the same callous, coldness of a Daedra, I would have to respect life. My own, and others.

Being no fool, or at least, intelligent enough not to strive to be one, I told heed of her warnings. She reminded me that until I died my body would age and I could essentially live out a full life with those I loved. That I could experience everything along side them. That it would be a better act of honoring those I loved in a lifetime, to live alongside them, rather than apart.

She is not wrong.

I was distracted through much of the telekinesis lesson afterwards, still stuck on the wisdom she imparted. It earned me a quick strike of a branch on my boot to shake me back to attention. My mind is racing too quickly. I need some time to just sort through my thoughts. But during her lessons is not that time. I must earn my proficiency as soon as possible. For myself. For my family. For my Prince.

[let-me-write-shit]

Somebody To You: 1

A/N: It’s finally here! The first chapter of my second Harry Styles fic! We’re starting off with a LOOOONG, heavy one. I want to thank you all for patiently waiting. Most of the characters in this story is based off of some of YOU! Zoey, Nancy, Aurora, Andy, and Katie - Thanks for reading and being apart of this story. I’m sorry if I didn’t get your personalities right, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. I’ll be posting every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday! Enjoy. 

<3 Shannon

To Read My Previous Story, Click Here

-------------------------------------------

CHAPTER ONE

Never in a million years did Zoey think she’d move across the country on her own. But here she was, driving down the interstate in her dingy 2010 Toyota Camry, car filled to the brim with her belongings. LA had always been a far fetched idea. Actually, if we were being honest, it was never her idea to begin with. It was Jessica’s. Moving to LA alone was never a part of the plan. Jess should have been here. They should have been blasting music through the stereo, complaining about the shitty A/C in the car, road raging together, and dreaming about all of the things they would do when they arrived.

Instead, Zoey drove in silence, briefly passing through all of the tourist spots and monuments they had always talked about visiting along the way, pulling into walmart parking lots for bathroom breaks or cat naps, alone. The only noise disrupting the silence was the hum of the engine and the occasional whisper under her breath as she spoke, in vain, to her best friend.

Jess was a force. Anyone who had the pleasure of knowing her would say the same thing. She lit up a room. She was the outgoing one. She’d talk to anyone and everyone that passed her, striking up random conversations that only she could come up with. And her laugh was infectious. Zoey always made Jess laugh and it got them in a lot of trouble over the course of their fifteen year friendship. 

Jess always had her platinum blonde hair straight, never putting it up - something Zoey always did out of habit, rarely letting her hair down because she didn’t like how it looked. Jess always had a knack for the dramatics, which is why she wanted to move to LA since she was little. She had dreamed of becoming an actress. Zoey saw her in every high school and college play. And she was good. Really good. Honestly, she had potential to make it. But, to Zoey, all of the long talks of moving to LA was just that: talk. She could never let go of the comfort of being close to family in her small, Pennsylvania town with her best friend and boyfriend. Besides, how could they even afford it?

But all of that changed on June 9th of last year. It was Jess’ 26th birthday and the two girls went out to celebrate with a few friends at the bar they worked at together. Zoey and Jess were the last to leave and had drunk a little more than they intended, so they had Zoey’s boyfriend, Michael, pick them up. Not even 3 minutes into the car journey it happened. A drunk driver ran a red light and had rammed into the rear passenger side door at 50 mph. The car flipped and Zoey hit her head against the window, sending her unconscious. 

She woke up in the hospital the next afternoon with a broken wrist, a few fractured ribs, and a concussion, surrounded by her parents who were crying, her little sister, Katie, who sat timidly in the corner of the room, and Michael who only had a few scrapes and cuts, but was ultimately fine, squeezing her leg that was tucked under the heavy white blanket. When her eyes fluttered open, her mom gasped and both of her parents hovered over her, her dad stroking her cheek. The first thing Zoey managed to croak out was, ‘Where’s Jess?’. Her mom lost it, uncontrollably sobbing. It was her dad that had to break the news to her. Jess didn’t make it.

It’s weird. You’d think hearing the news of your best friend’s death would send you into a fit of rage or hysterics, but that didn’t happen for Zoey. She felt numb. It could have been the shock, but it didn’t feel real. Jess couldn’t have been gone. She was here only hours ago, laughing her infections laugh and smiling her gorgeous smile. And even so, when Jess’ parents came to visit her at the hospital to discuss the funeral, it still hadn’t set in. She wanted to laugh at them to stop being so dramatic. That everything was fine. That Jess was still here, she was just sleeping. She couldn’t just be gone. Not Jess. She was too full of life to just be gone. But the bags under their eyes told a different story. They had lost their only child. How do you recover from that?

Zoey was stuck in the hospital for a little over a week, causing her to miss her best friend's funeral, which didn’t help in her denial. The day she was released, her boyfriend picked her up from the hospital and drove her to Mr. and Mrs. Lewis’ house. The walk up to the front door felt different. Over the past fifteen years, Zoey never knocked on the front food or rang the doorbell, she just walked in. She wasn’t sure if that would be appropriate now. Unsure, she knocked, hesitated, and cracked the door open where she was met by the exhausted couple who gave her a warm hug and led the two towards the back, past the pool where she had so many fond memories of laughter with Jess, the glistening water seeming so inviting on this warm afternoon, towards the pool house where Jess stayed.

Some had questioned why Jess still lived with her parents if she was 25 and worked a well paying job. But, to put it lightly, Jess’ family was very well-off. Her dad had built and owned a business from the ground up and it became a major success practically overnight. She had her own space, rent free. Besides, the pool house was big enough to fit three of Zoey and Michael’s apartment into it. Why would she not stay there?

But when they walked in, it hit her. Everything was exactly as they had left it, nothing had been moved. Except this time, the room did not feel full of life like it always had. It felt cold and empty. And Zoey broke down.

She felt stupid for crying in front of Jess’ parents. How could her pain feel compared to theirs? But they didn’t judge. Instead, they held her in an understanding and loving embrace. After all, Zoey had been a part of their family for fifteen years. With every sob, the pain from her still-healing ribs hurt more and more. Michael stood off to the side and let the three have their moment, and when the tears settled, they began going through some of Jess’ things, letting Zoey take whatever she wanted, which included a hoodie, a dress, a pair of converse shoes, the other half of their friendship bracelet that they had made in 10th grade, and finally a note that she had written in middle school to Zoey, stuffed with the hundreds of other notes in a shoebox under her bed.

The year that followed was tough. Zoey found herself lost for a while. She quit her job at the bar her and Jess used to work at, because working without Jess was too much for her to handle. She didn’t go out anymore, and hardly talked to anyone except for her younger sister, Katie. Growing up she didn’t really get along with Katie. It’s not like she didn’t like her, but Katie was eight years younger than her, plus Zoey was so focused on friends and boys that she didn’t make any time or effort for her younger sister. But after Jess died, Zoey got to know her sister a lot better. She learned that Katie, aside from appearance, was almost exactly like herself. Katie took after their Irish dad in the way of looks with long, dark brown hair and adorable freckles, compared to Zoey’s pale skin and dirty blonde hair. You wouldn’t think they were related by looking at them. But, in personality, they were almost identical. Both were afraid to take risks, shy at first keeping a very small group of friends, but very caring. The complete opposite of Jess who was care-free and miss positivity. Katie was essential in her grieving process.

Anytime someone brought Jess up in conversation, they always skirted around certain topics or words. They always used her name in past tense or said things like, ‘no longer with us’ or ‘passed away’. It was infuriating. One night, Zoey’s parents had invited her, Michael, and Mr. and Mrs. Lewis over for dinner nearly three months in. Her mom had brought Jess up for the fourth time in two hours and said something along the lines of ‘I’m still finding it hard to process Jess not being here anymore.’ And Zoey lost it.

“She’s dead, mom! She died! Okay?” Zoey shouted, pushing away from the table, causing her glass of wine to spill, and darting up the steps to Katie’s room that they used to share when Zoey lived there.

She collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily with tears streaming down her face, angry, when there was a faint knock on the door. Her fists clenched in annoyance, half expecting it to be her boyfriend as Michael had been extra clingy since Jess died, almost as if he was scared of what Zoey would do if she was left alone. Which was stupid. What good would it do anyone if she wasn’t here either? But to her shock and horror, it was Jess’ mom who walked into the room. 

Zoey shot up straight and wiped the tears from her face, instantly regretting the outburst she just had. “Mrs. Lewis, I’m so sorry, I-”

“Don’t,” Jess’ mom cut her off, motioning for her to sit down beside her at the edge of the bed. Her expression was warm and not at all angry, “I can’t even begin to tell you the amount of times I wanted to say that over the past three months to anyone who mentions her. I know it’s hard, and I understand.”

Zoey nodded, twisting Jess’ bracelet that was now tightly wrapped around her wrist, a strand of her dirty blonde hair had fallen out of her hair tie and she pushed it behind her ear as Jess’ mom continued, “I only came up here because I thought it’s be a good opportunity to talk to you in private before we go.”

“What about?”

“Well, Mr. Lewis and I were going through some more of Jess’ things last week and we came across a bunch of old ‘Dream Journals’ the two of you wrote in over the years.”

Zoey felt the heat of embarrassment rise to her cheeks, remembering some of the things they wrote in there. The ‘Dream Journals’ were more of a fantasy bucket list than anything, but there were definitely a few inappropriate things involving Jared Padalecki and Jeremy Sumpter in there that she wasn’t too keen on the idea of Jess’ parents reading.

She continued, “Mr. Lewis and I noticed nearly every page was filled with things you two wanted to do in LA.”

It sounded more like a question than a statement. Zoey cleared her throat, “Yeah. We always talked about moving there one day.”

Mrs. Lewis nodded, “I know how much she wanted to go. And I know it probably always seemed out of reach. But, Zoey, I don’t want this to stop you from going. Jess worked hard to save up so you both could go. And I don’t want that to be for nothing. Mr. Lewis and I talked about it and we decided. Jess had managed to save up $18,000, and we wanted you to have it. And we know how expensive LA can be, so we wanted to add an extra $7,000 on top of it. Hopefully that’ll be enough for rent for at least a year.”

Zoey’s mouth fell open, trying to process everything Mrs. Lewis just said. So many questions ran through her mind. How did she manage to save so much on the same salary that she had? Stupid question, she had no bills. She twisted a little too hard on the bracelet, causing it to pinch her wrist and snap her back to reality, “$25,000? To move to LA?”

“It was her dream and she never got to fulfill it. We want you to live your life and hopefully bring a little bit of our baby girl to LA with you in spirit. All that we ask in return is that you try to find peace out there.”

That was the moment of revelation for Zoey. The turning point. The moment that made her get off her ass and stop the pity party. She didn’t want to take Mr. and Mrs. Lewis’ gift for granted. So, Zoey worked her ass off. She got three jobs as a warehouse worker, waitress, and got her old bartending job back to save up even more money. She had eventually even found a room that two girls were renting out in a beautiful skyrise condo on the nicer end of LA, and had got a bartending job lined up and waiting for her when she moved. Zoey vowed to herself to start adapting some of Jess’ personality into her own. She wanted to be more outgoing and try to say ‘yes’ more often, to learn to let her hair down (figuratively speaking), and she wanted to try and be more adventurous. It wouldn’t be an overnight success, but she would try. Baby steps. 

Finally, almost a year later, it was time to move. Zoey had finished saying goodbye to her and Jess’ parents. Even Michael had come to see her off. The two of them had broken off their nearly four year relationship a couple months ago, but still remained close. Zoey could tell that he was heart broken, and so was she, but she also knew that things had changed between them after Jess died. They weren’t the same people anymore and it seemed like they were holding on to each other to force the fraction of normalcy they had left. They didn’t deserve that. They deserved to be happy, not just content, but genuinely happy. 

They gave each other a tight hug and Michael sweetly kissed her cheek, whispering her a farewell. Saying goodbye to him stung a bit more than she had anticipated. Not because of some kind of lost love, but because he was the only other person in her life who she could talk to about Jess and who would actually understand. He knew Jess in almost the same sort of capacity that Zoey knew her. Poor Michael was forced to be the third wheel so often that he saw sides of her and Jess that no one else could possibly know about. And that sense of understanding comforted her. Now that she was letting that go, it was a little harder for her to leave.

Katie stood off to the side, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, twiddling her fingers together and avoiding her older sister’s gaze. The freckle faced teenager bit the inside of her cheeks, trying to focus on anything other than Zoey leaving. As horrible as this past year has been, she knew that the bond they built would not have happened otherwise. Katie had become just as reliant on Zoey as Zoey had been on her, and for her sister to be leaving was heartbreaking. She held back her emotions, but all Katie wanted to do was cry.

A frown formed on Zoey’s face. Her sister looked like a shelter puppy who’s owner had given up on them and knots formed in her stomach. Should Zoey really be leaving now, just as things started to come together for her? But as Katie’s demeanor cracked and she embraced her sister with a loving and understanding hug, she knew that this was the right move. Zoey still had some healing to do and Katie would always be there. Jess would have wanted this for her. 

The silent journey to LA was full of self reflection and internal pep talks. Not only did Zoey want to adapt a little bit of Jess’ personality, but she knew that this move gave her the opportunity to start over and live the life she always wanted. But what was that exactly?

As she neared her destination her heart began thumping faster, nervous for this new chapter. She looked at her surroundings of the bustling city, gorgeous people on every block, recognizing some buildings from her sleuthing around Street View on Google Maps after speaking with Nancy about moving in.

She’s been talking to Nancy via text and facetime over the course of a month since they met online and made plans for her to move in. Nancy seemed like one of the coolest people she had ever talked to. Tan, with the curliest, raven toned hair, she had nine ear piercings and the most interesting eyes-one brown and the other a deep green. She styled herself more on the rocker chic side, but somehow made it look so feminine and fitting. She could be a bit intense at times, but somehow made you feel comfortable and constantly laughing. 

Zoey didn’t know much about her other roommate, Aurora, or Rory, as most people called her. She only knew that Nancy had met Rory when she first moved to LA when they were 18 and they were best friends. The two of them just recently moved to their new condo and since Rory was gone most of the week for work and they had a spare bedroom, Nancy felt more comfortable and safe if there were another roommate there so she didn’t have to live on her own.

Nancy and Aurora had an interesting dynamic because they were practically polar opposites. Rory was born and raised in both Paris and a small town in England. She was new on the modeling scene but apparently making her way up the ladder rather quickly. And from the pictures that Nancy showed her, it was no wonder why. She was beautiful, with long brown hair, piercing blue eyes, and the sweetest, freckled baby face that reminded her of her little sister.

The GPS announced that she had reached her destination as she pulled up to the parking garage of the skyrise condominium. Zoey plugged the code that Nancy had given her into the keypad to enter the parking structure and drove in, finding a spot two rows in. She took her phone off of the car charger and checked the time. 3:14 PM, Thursday, April 23rd. It took her almost 4 full days to get here and it almost felt surreal that she had finally arrived. She stepped out of the car, legs buckling a bit from being sat in one position for so long, before stretching and calling Nancy’s phone.

“Are you fuckin’ here?” Nancy’s loud voice boomed excitedly.

Zoey laughed, stifling a yawn, “Yeah. In the parking garage.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you down in the lobby. Same code as the parking structure to get in.”

The call ended and Zoey felt her nerves settling as she glanced down at her wrist adorning Jess’ friendship bracelet. Everything will be fine. She grabbed as many things as she could manage to hold, realizing she’d have to take several trips to completely unload her car, before bounding towards the door. In order to put the code in she had to set some of her bags down, and as soon as it was unlocked, she yanked the door open, scooped up the bags, and headed down a hallway towards the huge, modern lobby. The walls were light gray with twelve foot ceilings lined with abstract black and white artwork and industrial light fixtures, a huge water feature right in the center. It seemed so extravagant that she almost felt silly for wearing the same gray sweatpants, matching small t-shirt layered with a long, white cardigan and white flip flops that she had worn since she left Pennsylvania, her hair now in an insanely messy bun, and not in a cute way, desperate for a shower. She could hear her flip flops echoing throughout the room along with the chime of the elevator door reaching her level. 

Nancy stepped out, curly hair framing her face, barely any makeup on but maybe some mascara, and so naturally pretty. She wore an oversized aerosmith shirt that had been splattered in bleach and barely covered her black shorts. Nancy’s eyes widened at the sight of Zoey and she ran over, smiling.

“Hey!” Zoey giggled, hiking up a bag that was slipping down her shoulder.

Nancy gave her a careful one-armed hug so as not to knock down the tower of belongings in Zoey’s arm before grabbing two bags to lighten the load a bit as she was led towards the elevator. Nancy talked her ear off about her day so far and what she had planned for dinner tonight when they reached the twenty second floor and got out. There was a small lounge area in the center of a large landing with a single door on the other three walls, each leading to three separate units. Nancy led her to the unit on the far left - 2201. 

“Okay, so the code is pretty easy. It’s all four corners of the keypad. So 1,3,7, and 9,” Nancy punched in. A green light appeared and Nancy pushed the door open, stepping inside. “Zoey’s here!” she called out as Zoey readjusted the bag that was slipping down her shoulder again. 

She looked around as she made her way past a small bathroom and suppressed a gasp when she reached the beautiful, modern kitchen that opened up into the living room, the wall lined with floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the city. Seeing the apartment in person was a completely different experience than virtually. The pictures didn’t do it justice. How could she afford to stay here? Jess would have lost her mind if she saw this. Zoey was so distracted by the view that she almost didn’t notice the two figures on the couch until they both stood up and started making their way over.

“Zoey! It’s so nice to meet you,” a sweet voice called. Aurora’s accent was an odd mix of French and British, only adding to her appeal.

“Hello!” A soft, deep voice greeted her.

Zoey smiled kindly, feeling overwhelmed by the amount of beauty in the two. Like the apartment, Rory’s pictures did not do her justice. She was more beautiful in person, almost making her feel inferior. And as for the guy beside her, he was scruffy with tousled brown hair and dark green eyes. His perfect white teeth could be seen through his smile and his dimpled cheeks made him even more discernible. 

“I’m Harry,” he spoke.

Zoey blinked, so exhausted from the long car journey that she was unable to decide what emotion to feel and unsure of how to respond. Her arms trembled from the weight of her luggage. The trembling caused a shoe to fall out of one of the bags, making a thump on the floor. Harry let out a startled gasp and quickly bent down to grab it, “Here, let me help,” he offered, grabbing the stack of bags out of Zoey’s hand, leaving her with just two on her shoulders. “Where would you like these?”

Before she could answer, Nancy spoke up, “Her room. Come on,” and led the way down another hall, Harry en suite.

Aurora smiled brightly at Zoey, “You must be exhausted,” she said, motioning for Zoey to follow the other two, “I hope the ride in was okay.”

Zoey tightened her bun and wiped beads of sweat from her forehead, glad that Aurora was being nice to her. “Yeah, lots of traffic as soon as I hit the city, though.”

Aurora laughed as they reached the doorframe, “You’ll get used to it.”

As the bedroom came into view Zoey saw Harry gently placing her things at the foot of the full sized bed. Thankfully the room was already furnished with the larger items. He huffed as he stood back up, dusting his hands together before pushing back the strand of hair that had fallen in front of his face. It was only a split second of realization. What the hell was happening? Was this just another dream? How could she be in LA, in a beautiful skyrise condo, with a gorgeous model and the coolest girl she had ever met as roommates, and Harry-fucking-Styles was standing in her bedroom? Surely she was still in her small one bedroom apartment back in Pennsylvania.

“Is this all you brought?” Harry asked, his accent snapping her back to present. 

“Oh, uh, no. I have more in my car.”

“Let me help bring your things up,” his eyebrows raised as if he was waiting for an answer, but his tone was more insistent.

Zoey hesitated, still in shock from the whole situation. Thankfully Nancy spoke up again before the silence got awkward, “Yeah, let’s go.”

She led the way out of the room followed closely by Harry who smiled nicely at her before his glance shot to Aurora. Zoey was sure he had meant to be more discreet, but she could have sworn he had winked at Rory. And the coy smile on her face seemed to confirm the hunch. Zoey kicked herself for being so awkward, mentally reminding herself to channel Jess’ sociability.

The four of them made conversation while they took a few more trips from the car to the apartment until all of her luggage riddled her room and her arms felt like jello. They all sat lined up on the large, pewter sectional with Zoey on an end cushion, Nancy sat cross-legged in the corner, and Aurora and Harry on the other side, close but with safe distance between them. She found out that Harry was in the middle of a U.S. tour and had a few days break, so he flew here to hang out and would be leaving again first thing in the morning. She also found it interesting to learn how they met each other a few months ago at a charity dinner event that Aurora had attended with Nancy as he plus one. They had all been sitting at the same table together and this was only their third time seeing him in person due to his tour.

“And now I have another friend,” Harry grinned, motioning towards Zoey.

“Yeah, until you scare her away with your horrible dad jokes and eating habits,” Nancy snorted.

Everyone laughed as Harry lightly nudged Nancy’s leg with his foot, “Just because you can’t beat the master at jokes doesn’t mean they’re horrible,” he shook his head in mock disappointment before turning his attention back to her, “So what made you move out here, Zoey? Work?”

Zoey gulped, not wanting to bring up Jess. She knew if she had, she would break down and cry and they didn’t know anything about Jess yet. I mean, how would everyone feel if she blurted out, ‘my dead best friend’s parents insisted I make their daughter’s dream come true and paid for me to move here’? 

She quickly composed herself, “Change of scenery. Thought I’d try out a new time zone,” she joked, causing them to chuckle. “I’m trying to be a bit more independent and adventurous,” she admitted.

Harry noticed her hesitation and looked at Rory and Nancy to see if they noticed it, too, but they seemed to be oblivious to it. He shrugged it off. He respected her desire to be more independent; something he understood all too well. The singer listened,  impressed as she revealed how many jobs she had been working in order to save just to come here and how proud she was of herself for taking the leap and coming here. Zoey didn’t seem braggy about it, in fact she seemed humbled, crediting her family and even her ex-boyfriend for the support. It wasn’t often you met someone down to earth in LA. It could be because she was so new to it. But Harry thought she would make a great fit with Aurora and Nancy. They had been here for seven years and the Hollywood Bug hasn’t bit them yet. He had his fair share of friends on the west coast, but it was nice to be close with ones who made him feel more grounded like these two.

The four ordered postmates and continued talking and laughing over Nancy’s stories as the sun began to set, casting a beautiful orange and pink hue over the city. As soon as she was done with her chinese food Zoey quickly excused herself to call her family. Once out of sight the three friends turned to each other.

“I like her,” Aurora decided.

Nancy kicked her feet up on the couch where Zoey had been sitting, “Yeah, thank god she’s not like any of the other crazies that messaged us to live here.”

Harry smiled, looking over at Aurora who laughed and he felt a little flutter in his stomach. She was obviously beautiful and fit every characteristic of his type. He could relate to her from living in a small English town but also found her intriguing that she had also been raised in Paris and spoke fluent French - a language he was always attracted by. Aurora and Harry were clearly attracted to each other, but the timing wasn’t exactly right. They met right as Aurora’s modeling career started to take off and just before Harry left for tour. They hadn’t even been on a first date yet, or even kissed for that matter. Just shameless flirting via text. 

In an effort to make an excuse to come back again, Harry spoke up, “Well, next weekend I have off. I don’t know what Zoey’s new work schedule will be, but if she’s up for it, how about we take her to Secrets as a little welcoming party? My treat.”

Secrets was a popular bar in the area that had private rooms you could rent for karaoke. Most of the club-goers were known to be gay, though a lot of straight people went with friends if they wanted a fun clubbing experience without any unwanted nuisances. It was always a good time whenever they went.

“That’d be lovely,” Aurora grinned.

“Yeah, sounds fun! I’ll talk to her about it and find out her work schedule,” Nancy agreed.

Harry nodded, excited about another opportunity to hang out with Rory. And honestly, he was excited to get to know Zoey, too. She seemed easy to talk to. And his instincts in people were pretty good.

What do you think?! Let me know

KEEP READING

[jadekitty777]

Baker’s Dozen, Part 2

Final day, final day, final day!

Day 8: Free Day @taiqrowweek

Rating: K

Words: 1,800

Summary: When a desperate escape from fans leaves Qrow seeking shelter in a nearby restaurant, he expects little of the rundown, failing business that offers him a table. One bite is all it takes to change his mind. [Actor and Chef AU]

Ao3 Link: Part 2

~

Mornings at the Qrow’s Nest were blissfully silent. With opening still hours away and the kitchen completely empty, Taiyang had all the time and space he needed to do the various prep work that would carry the lunch and dinner teams throughout the day. The things like soups, breads and desserts that needed a more delicate and mindful touch that would easily be lost under the hustle and bustle of the rush crowds.

It also gave him plenty of opportunity to experiment. He wasn’t used to the more trend-following patrons his new restaurant tended to draw in, but as head chef, it was his job to decide what went on the menu, while also finding new, exciting things to cycle in every season to stray from a stagnating selection. It was a challenge to imagine up different recipes rather than fall into his old, tried-and-true routines, but he’d never been one to quit when things got difficult and instead jumped headfirst into the work.

Thankfully, his business partner was a rather inspiring muse, with an entire filmography page to pull ideas from. Designing meals around whatever hotshot flick or program Qrow happened to be appearing in worked like a charm for both of them. There was less chance his creativity would tank and it drummed up excitement for the upcoming release.

This Fall would see the premiere of The Grimm Adventure, a dark and gritty fantasy-action flick. Though he wasn’t taking a leading role, Qrow still seemed positively beside himself for it to come out (Tai suspected it had something to do with the fact he got to run around for two-thirds of the film with a sword). From what he understood, the story took place in a dystopian world ruled by shadow creatures and followed the journey of a young maiden tasked with saving her dying world. Qrow would appear in it as her mentor, guiding her during her more difficult trials.

The low-lit sets seen in the trailers belayed a morose, almost gothic aesthetic, and had Tai leaning towards garnishes that matched, such as brisket and black-bean chili, forbidden rice and chicken stir fry, southern pork with a side of black-eyed peas and blackberry cobbler and black forest ham with leafy asparagus and roasted potatoes peppered with black garlic. He was most proud of that last one, as it was meant to match the fire-burnt thickets Qrow would save his apprentice from.

The menu was mostly complete and ready to be revealed. The only thing he had left to decide on was the final dessert.

So, Tai flipped on his old cassette player, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work.

~

Two hours later found him flourishing on the final touches to the cake he’d crafted while belting out the lyrics to whatever western-inspired ditty was managing to come out of the ancient machine.

“Country roooads, take me hooome, to the place I belooong. West Virginia, mountain llama. Oh take me home, country roads.”

No one was around to hear the lyrics he didn’t quite remember right.

So, of course that was the moment someone decided to walk through the door.

“Mountain llama?”

Tai jumped, completely butchering the strawberry he was trying to cut precisely in half. He swiveled around, greeted by the amused smile of his partner. “God’s almighty Qrow! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

He chuckled, holding up his hands in peaceful surrender. “Sorry ‘bout that. It’s just – llama??”

“Oh put a sock in it.” He turned off his player before reaching for another strawberry. As he chopped down, he said, “Surprised to see you here. I thought you were staying in New Zealand a few more days?”

“The reshoots went better than expected, so I caught an early flight.” Qrow explained. “Though I would kill for some coffee right now.”

“Pot’s on for the taking.”

The offer was graciously accepted, and soon enough the other man had a mug in his hand and a seat on the counter, watching as Tai shaped the strawberry halves into hearts. He took a sip of his coffee – black with barely enough cream to color – and asked, “What are you working on?”  

Focused on getting the cut just right this time, his response was distracted. “Dessert, for you.”

“Ah, you shouldn’t have.” Like the thespian he was, Qrow absolutely played it up, putting a hand to his heart and fluttering his eyelashes like a lovestruck debutante.

“You know, they say the first sign of an actor’s career going south is when they start to overact.” He ‘tsk’ed pityingly. “And you were still so young too.”

“Hm, funny,” There was a clear smirk in Qrow’s voice, “Because the only way ‘south’ I intend to go is with you.”

Tai missed the next cut too. Ears burning red, he shot the other a look. The only response he was offered was one brow raised in challenge as he smugly drank his coffee.

As much as he wanted to give back as good as he was given, nothing decent would form in his mind. So, he just grumbled, “Snake”. He’d have felt defeated, if not for how nice on the ears Qrow’s chuckles were. “If you’re all done with your games, I’d appreciate it if you’d have a taste of this cake.”

“You sure you want my opinion on that? You know I’m not much of a dessert guy.”

“Don’t worry, I made sure to temper the sweetness for your tender palate.” He said as fetched the cake from the adjacent workstation’s display shelf. Beyond its stark black frosting, the two-layered cake did not look like much. The decoration was left simple, only a standard spiral design bordering the top and bottom edges. Even the addition of the strawberry slices in a simple ring on top only added a bare hint of color.

The trick was within.

As Tai sliced through the cake, it revealed the marble design inside. Made with a mixture of chocolate and red velvet, the two batters blended together in a swirl like pattern. The layers were neatly divided by a scarlet-bright raspberry filling, bringing all the dark colors and bright reds together. He might not be the most outstanding baker there was – that honor had gone to his late wife – but he still felt a sense of pride as he held out the slice to his partner.

Qrow whistled as he got a proper gander at it. “You really outdid yourself this time.”

“The truth is in the taste, not the view.” Tai handed him a fork next.

“Beg to differ.” He said, eyes never leaving him even as he dug in. “The view’s pretty nice from where I’m looking.”

The flush was back, spreading like a fever across his cheeks.

When they had first met, he had told Qrow he was no fool, unblinded by the trickery of the successful and silver-tongued. He’d like to maintain that eighteen months later, that was still the case. But the game Qrow was playing now was more devious than his first – and one Tai didn’t entirely mind losing.

He could not say quite when it started, all the flirting that grew bolder by the day and lewd comments that left him redder than a rose. At first, it had overwhelmed him; yet before long, he had found himself trying to return those notions. It had been quite some time since anyone had taken a fancy of him but settling down had not left him entirely rusty. Every time he managed to leave Qrow speechless or shy left a pleasant warmth in his belly, like a fire just starting to burn.

So yes, he absolutely knew where all this hemming and hawing was leading them. He just never fathomed in his wildest dreams he’d be heading there with someone like Qrow. On a surface level, he could never imagine they were even compatible.

Like the cake, the trick was on the inside.

As was typical for a man of his class, Qrow hid a lot to save face and that was what most saw. A successful, rich, socialite who barely had time to look down his nose at the common folk. Yet, Tai had learned the compassion he truly held. The gesture that saved his restaurant was only one act of many. He saw it again, when Qrow quietly requested if Tai would apprentice Lie Ren, the son of his driver who wished for a future in the kitchen. And again, in his visits to the children’s hospital to read them stories whenever he was in town. Once more with the various gift and food donations he’d make around the holidays so fewer homes had to go without.

That isn’t to say the man didn’t have his edges. He could be too caustic at times and if politics was even hinted at as a topic of conversation, Qrow’s voice was louder than anyone’s in just what he thought about their current president’s policies. He liked to drink, sometimes in excess, and when he was in a poor mood he either took to isolating himself or just sulked about like a teenager.

Yet for all his bad, the good still shined through. His smiles and laughter were treasures. He declined to live in excess, finding peace in the quietness of a quaint home. He was strict in never telling lies to those he trusted. He was brilliant, and funny, and hard-working. It was also a plus that Qrow was nicer to gaze upon than any fancy painting in the most prestigious museum.

There was so much Tai had grown to appreciate about the man behind the actor. With it, his feelings were starting to bud, close to blooming. He knew it was much the same for Qrow – though he knew not how precisely he viewed him, he at least could determine with confidence that it was a mutual romance beginning between them.

The real question was, which of them would be the one to make the final play on this game they’d started?

“Mmm, this is really good.” Qrow’s voice broke him from his thoughts, already halfway through the cake. “You’re right, it’s not too sweet.”

“And the berries add that tartness you like.” Tai added.

He chuckled, forking another piece. “You keeping track of my food preferences?”

That was, perhaps, the best hand he was ever gonna get dealt.

“A’course.” He lent his hip against the counter, “How else will I make your favorites when I invite you to dinner?”

Qrow froze, utensil halfway to his mouth as he stared beyond it and right at him. After a heated second of silence, he asked, “Is that a request for a date?”

Tai hid the shake of his hands by crossing his arms. “It is, if you’ll have me for one.”

“Believe me, I’d happily have you for dinner any day of the week.”

“Yeah?” A laugh mixed with embarrassment and pleasure left him. “How ‘bout Thursday then?”

Qrow smiled one of those treasured smiles and blushed one of those gut-warming blushes, and said, “Sounds just perfect.”

[amarabliss]

Oaths and Hearts - Ignis Scentia/Reader

So this is a crossover between FFXV and Dragon Inquisition. 

You fell through a rift into the fade fighting the demons you swore to protect your world from. When you popped out you were no longer in the lands of Ferelden instead trapped in Insomnia. The gracious king allowed you to say recognizing power when he saw it. One thing led to another and now you were part of the procession of the prince to his wedding years later. Before the final battle, after years of fighting, losses, and love...your friend...your king...Noctis has asked you to change it all...

You stared down at the streets of Altissia…No one was even aware of what was about to happen. Just you…sent far, far from home and loved ones, all in the name of keeping the light alive.

You, of course, had additional objectives. You sighed shutting your eyes reflecting back to the moments before the boys took off for Insomnia to reclaim it.

“Y/N…” You looked over to Noctis already dressed in his royal uniform, “can I have a moment of your time?”

“Of course, your majesty.” You smirked a little as he guided away from the camper toward the converted restaurant, “You’ve aged well, by the way.”

He let out a soft chuckle watching to you take a seat on a crate, “I can say the same for you…your daughter is beautiful.”

“She is.” You smiled looking over toward the camper. You let out a chuckle as Prompto chased Ellie around before she ran to her father climbing into his lap laughing as he summoned his dagger, pointing at it Prompto, who quickly surrendered, “She’s going be so impressed when she can see the world in light. She most excited about the flowers. Ignis always tells her about the gardens of the palace.”

“What if she could be born into that light you both tell her about?” Your eyes shifted to Noctis’ face. His eyes held a great sadness and an edge, “Would you be willing to do something to make that happen?”

“Noctis…” Your eyes narrowed on him, “What are you…”

“I learned a lot…waiting inside the crystal. I learned that you fell from a different world entirely and you always held back the entire time you were with us, until Ardyn took you.” He frowned looking down to the ring on his hand, “You did that to help me…I saw that too…”

You wrapped your arms around yourself staring at him, “You knew some of that already. You don’t forget someone dropping into the royal courtyard through a rift…”

“No you don’t…or how you protected my father day…” He smiled a little before wiping it away, “I…will cut right to it. I know you can save Luna. You have the gift of kings, but you’re not tied to me or anything here.”

“What…” You stood up staring at him confused.

“If you save her…if you push Ardyn away and through a rift…cast a shield over Altissia…”

“Noctis…” You began shaking your head as you turned form him, “What you’re suggesting…”

“Will give me more time with the woman I love.” He interrupted you raising an arm pointing it toward the camper, “Will let Ignis see his daughter’s face when she’s born in the sunlight…and save countless more by giving me the proper time to get our gods blessings and the weapons of the kings.”

“You want me to change what already has happened…” You turned facing him, “Noctis…it can’t be done.”

“It can.” He stepped close to you, “It can be done, but at a great price…”

“Y/N?” Your eyes snapped open seeing the warm streets of Altissia again. You looked over to who was calling you and smiled seeing Ignis approaching you, “There you are, is everything alright? You’re not having another headache, are you?”

“Everything is fine.” You stared up into his eyes, “No headaches.”

“Good. You had me worried there for a moment.” His eyes were bright with concern as he looked you over, “Sharp pains in the skull with a bloody nose generally do not bode well. I appreciate you allowing a doctor to examine you when we arrived at Caem.”

“It was a good idea. Can’t be too cautious.” You smiled at him wishing to run your fingers through his hair, but you weren’t that familiar yet, “I appreciate you caring enough to get me looked at.”

“Well…it was the next logical step.” He pulled his glasses off looking at them before he wiped them down.

“Where are the children?” You asked as you both started down the stairs, “Not causing too much trouble are they?”

He let out a small laugh, “Well they’re not fighting anything or infiltrating any bases at the moment, so good.”

“Good…” You repeated brushing your hair behind your ears, it was so much shorter than you were use to, “It will be nice to relax for a moment. I’m happy we made it here ahead of schedule, despite the fact that Lady Lunafreya is still alluding us.”

“But she is safe, which has put Noct at ease.”  Ignis nodded absently, “I hope he enjoys the reprieve, even if it’s only for a moment.”

“Us too.” You glanced at him seeing him pull at his collar a little, “Ignis, is something wrong?”

“Wrong? No…” He said took quickly, “no nothing is the matter.”

“Are you certain?” You moved in front of him walking backwards gaining his full attention, “Because if there’s something on your mind?”

He stared at you for a moment as if considering everything in front of him before he spoke, “It’s nothing that can’t wait.”

“Alright…” You turned away from him heading for the gondola.

“Hey Y/N!” You stopped abruptly when you heard Noct’s voice. He looked so young and less burdened, “Do you have a minute? I could use your help with something.”

“My help?” The last time he’d asked you for helped in this time, it involved pranking Prompto.

“Don’t freak out, it’s not like last time.” He smirked a little putting his hands on his hips, I want to get a gift for Luna, and I thought maybe you could give me some advice.”

“Why?” You tilted your head a little, “I’ve never met her.”

“No…but you both are alike.” He smiled a little.

“Well…knowing who you’re speaking about, I take that as the highest form of compliment.” You smiled at him, “I’d be happy to help you.”

“Ignis, you mind tagging along too? You tend to have a practical outlook on these things.” Noct looked at  him as you began to walk off with him.

“I suppose, it wouldn’t hurt making sure you don’t spend all of our supply money.” Ignis followed behind the pair down the street.

This was different. You knew there would be some changes. You had persuaded…manipulated…the group to arriving to Altissia early. Knowing the needed upgrades for the royal yacht helped immensely.

“So what are you thinking?” You asked as they stepped into a jewelry shop.

“I don’t know…” Noct shrugged a little as he leaned over a case of rings, “I mean she has a ring for me…that belongs to our family…so I thought maybe I should get her one for the wedding.”

You looked at Noct curiously, “Is…that what you do for marriages? Exchange jewelry?”

“Yeah, usually rings. You don’t do that where you’re from?” The prince asked as Ignis moved around you to inspect what the prince was looking at.

“No, no not really.” You watched the Noct raised his eyebrows interested, “Well that’s not true…rings were a royal thing…More commonly was a knot or braid turned into a bracelet…or necklace. Usually made to whatever the wearer preferred.”

“Huh…interesting, is there a reason why you do that? And do you have a preference?” Noct rattled off.

“Noct!” You looked over to Ignis whose ears were red, “That’s a bit intrusive.”

“It’s alright.” You smiled at him before looking down at the glittering jewels, “I prefer bracelets. I was a leader of a rebel force; necklaces could be used against me in a bad way. A bracelet can be seen, and most people don’t try to strangle you with them.”

“Doesn’t a ring do the same thing?” Noct picked one up after the shop keeper pulled out a row.

“Yes…it’s also easily lost…and not very comfortable when wielding a staff. If I were to get a ring it wouldn’t be anything like this.” You plucked the glittery piece out of his fingers, “It would have only been a simple band of brass or silver. Jewels were a luxury item.”

Noct smirked as you slipped it on your finger holding out your hand, “But you do like it, don’t you?”

You smirked glancing at him, but your eyes found Ignis who was carefully listening, “It’s hard to pass up shiny trinkets…If someone were to get me something like…”

Noct smiled as you pulled out a small gold band with a triset of diamonds as you went on, “…this…I could not refuse it.”

“It’s very pretty…but…Luna is more into silver.” Noct took the ring from you putting it back.

You rolled your eyes, “I guess we’re not as much a like as you said.”

“No, no…you are.” He smirked at you, “She’s not really into the glamour of everything…Just need to change the colour. Like this one.”

You giggled as he held up one similar to the one you chose, but in a white gold band. Your eyes trickled toward Ignis who’s eyes were on you, “Just like that one.”

One transaction later all three of you were walking out of the shop. Noct smiled at you, “Thank you, Y/N, I think she’ll like it.”

“Once you get her favorite flowers, I think you’re right.” You smiled back at him, “I’m happy to serve my king.”

He stopped in the street looking at you, “Y-you mean that?”

You stared at him a moment before standing up straight putting arm across your chest like you’d seen the three Crowns Guard do many times, “I may not be a true citizen of this world…your country…or your city, but I would proudly call you my king.”

Noct glanced over to Ignis when you bowed. He swallowed before putting a hand on your shoulder getting you to stand again, “Thank you, Y/N…I would be honored to have you be a part of my guard.”

“NOCT!” The small moment was broken up as Prompto came running over, “You have to come check this out! It’s so cool!”

“I’ll babysit, don’t worry.” Gladio patted Ignis on the back.

“You sure?” Ignis raised his eyebrows with concern.

“Yeah…score us a place to sleep. Meet up at Magho’s for dinner?” Gladio pointed at you and Ignis.

“I suppose…” Ignis wasn’t given the opportunity to finish answering, “Well then…”

You watched him adjust his coat for a moment before turning away longing to take his hand in yours, “I think I saw a hotel back where we started…if we take the gondola we can probably get there faster than walking.”

“It seems that way.” Ignis stepped close to you as a group of people passed by pushing him closer, “Sorry…”

You looked up at him when he leaned in placing his arm above your head, “I don’t mind…”

His eyes twinkled looking down into yours, “Perhaps we could tour the city for a while first, if you’re up to it?”

You swallowed looking at him, “Ignis…”

This was so hard. A week ago, you could grab hold of him kiss him until he was breathless before he warned you to calm down. A week ago, he’d hold you so tightly that you were sure no force could separate you. A week ago…

“No.”

“Ignis…” You watched as he stood up from his chair faster than he should have. You knew he was going to get lost, “I know that this is…”

“Insanity!” He shook his head getting my frustrated by the second, “No…worse…you get sent away and nothing changes. Noctis will still have to sacrifice himself and I will have lost you…the mother of my daughter…of my future child…”

You stepped up to him taking his hand pressing it against your stomach, “This will be again…Ellie will be again…In the sun, Ignis…”

“You can’t be certain.” He whispered letting his other hand slink up to your face, “You can’t know…”

“…you don’t know if you’ll come back either…” He scowled attempting to move away from you, but in his frustration, he ran into the couch. You frowned as he let out a yell, “Ignis…stop…”

“I will not risk losing you!”  He shouted not turning around for fear of looking foolish and not facing you, “I can’t…”

You stepped up behind him wrapping your arms around his chest, “And I don’t want to lose you either…when this works…”

“If…”

“When this works…” You continued resting your head against his back, “…I’ll be doing more then just helping Luna and Noctis…”

“I’ve made my peace, Y/N…” He sighed putting his hand over yours, “I’ve said that…”

“I know, but…I know how hard it’s been…how it is still.” You took a deep breath before leaning up on your toes kissing his neck, “I just want you to be happy.”

“I am.” He frowned finally turning around sitting on the back of the couch. His hands found your face, “I am so, so very happy.”

“But you won’t stay…” Your lip trembled when he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I have sworn an oath to my king.” He told you firmly.

You nudged his nose with yours, “So have I.”

“Y/N?” You focused on his lips as he spoke your name again. His hands came to rest on yours which were gripping onto his jacket, “What’s wrong?”

“Kiss me…” You whispered. You watched his eyes get wide as you stepped closer to him. The deliciousness of seeing him like this was almost too much...but it was out there for him to respond to. Now you just waited.

[fiction-in-my-blood]

Switching Sides: Part 3 (HLITF)

if anyone possibly wants to get on a tag list I’d be happy to make one

👉 @theshove 👈

If you wanna catch up, Part 2 is right here! Happy reading :)

Premise: Growing up in a life of crime in a Japanese mafia, Atsuko Motomori has seen enough injustice to last her a lifetime. To try and give back to the universe her family has taken so much from, she dreams of being a detective from a young age. Her twin, sharing her disgust for her father and many uncles, just wants an ordinary life away from the crime, paing and suffering. Instead, she wants to be in the spotlight with the soft notes she makes with her cello. In their escape of 2015, on their coming of age birthday, they must split ways, never to be together ever again. If one was found, they didn’t want the other dragged down with them. Atsuko, having changed her name and appearance as best she can without a scalpel, sets off to start her life of car chases and arrests.

Four years in a seemingly dead-end police station in the middle of nowhere, being passed over time after time for promotion, Atsuko finally gets a shot at her dream, having been sent to an academy for the best candidates in the country by her boss who had always kept an eye out for her. After discovering her boss may have made her bite off more than she could chew, Atsuko must become the slave of a dominating instructor!? Who so just happens to be the captain of the most famous police unit in Japan? Not to mention a total knockout! Will Atsuko finally achieve her dream? Or will her new instructor put her through the wringer?

Warnings: Language, Reference to sexual activity, Forceful nature.

~~~~~~

"I'm not going to be your servant!" I frowned, having computed what he said. I was sent to the special Instructors' Staff Room and, instead of just agreeing to have an aide, Captain Kaga dubbed me his servant. 

"Why not? It's not so different from being an aide." His question made me wonder what type of jobs he was going to make me do. "Besides, weren't you saying you wanted to?" His inquiry made me feel like we were having two totally different conversations. 

"Which reminds me, you haven't paid me back for that time yet." He inched closer to me as he saw me tense up. 

"Pa... Pay you back?" I stuttered out, not knowing what he could be referring to. I made sure I was never indebted to anyone. The way my father acted when he went out to collect his loaned out cash was enough for me not to even want to borrow from a bank. I don’t even want to remember how hard it was for me to find an apartment when I didn’t even have a credit score. Well, a shit one at that.

"Thanks to you acting like a moron, the thief got suspicious and escaped. It's only reasonable that you'd make up for those losses." The memory of what happened on the train only one day ago flashed through my mind. 

‘How was I supposed to know there was an investigation going on? I hadn't even met you yet?’ My silent frustration wasn't shown on my face as I was way too scared to give him a piece of my mind. ‘How was I supposed to stand there and watch a crime happening right in front of me?’

‘So, I have to become his servant to pay back a debt I didn't even know I had? What bullshit is that?’ When I desperately tried to protest, Kaga pushed his body closer to me ever so slightly.

"If you don't want to..." His indifferent expression made me take a small step back. "I'll assume that means I can reveal your fraudulent entry into this school." The statement made my heart stop and my blood run cold. 

Was my application fake? My boss had written it, you had to be referred to get in, but I had no idea he would go as far as to lie about my accomplishments. Was he trying to get me kicked out before I even started? 

"You're a local government employee, aren't you?" Kaga looms over me and I can tell he's hiding something in his language; both body and vocal. It was true I might not match my classmates in my connections, only those who have elite bonds got in and I was only a local officer, but... I was only let in because of what my boss said. 

"Do you understand the situation you're in?" He almost seemed to be teasing my naivety as he continued to loom. 

"But, what does that have to do with my entry?" I worried about my place in the school as the threat of being blamed for something I didn't even do emerged over the horizon. 

"That your classmates will have to decide." The sadness I began to feel if I left Naruko feeling betrayed played on my mind as I came to this crossroad. ‘If Kaga's threat was true and my boss had fudged my application, would I feel okay with staying here? It would be too late for someone more qualified to start, I'm sure the instructors had a strict regimen.’

"I didn't know that only elite students got in. My boss somehow got me in, though." I looked down in dismay, secretly cursing out my old boss for putting me in this situation. 

"You might not know just how much your boss puffed up your career. But that doesn't change the fact that he cheated your way in." The blunt delivery of my ultimate demise did nothing but make me worry more. "You're my servant now..." He leaned down to whisper in my ear. "...You better be dependable." And with that, he takes a phone call and walks off, acting like he didn't just threaten what would inevitably be my livelihood. 

‘What do I do now?’ I sigh, watching his back disappear around the corner.

"Already sighing?" Hearing a familiar gentle voice behind me, I turn to see Soma approaching the Staff Room. 

"Oh, excuse me, Instructor." I quickly jump out of his way, but he just smiles down at me. 

"It's fine, I can tell that something's happened." I couldn't tell if that was him saying he knew that my application was falsified or if confrontations with students was a regular occurrence for Kaga. Either were incredibly likely. 

"Kaga's strict, so I'm sure things are tough." The calming way he spoke made me believe the reason for his kindness was the latter. 

"Tough?" I laugh in defeat. "He's made me into his servant instead of an aide..." The idea made me trail off, wondering what kind of jobs he'll have me do. 

"Servant?" Soma's eyes widened slightly. But then he begins to laugh happily. 

"You're really laughing at me..?" I slouched as even Soma found humour in this catastrophe of a situation. 

"Hehe, sorry. I just remembered your enthusiasm, and then he was your first pick." He snickered and I wondered if that ill-timed boost of adrenaline was the reason I found myself in this mess. 

"Why did you choose him?" Soma suddenly became fascinated as he pinched his chin. 

"Well... I knew from the start he'd be strict, but I figured there'd be a lot to learn from someone like that..." Remembering my reasoning for choosing possibly the worst instructor out of all of them, Soma narrowed his eyes at my explanation. 

"I figured you or Sasaki would pick me or Ayumu." He smiled. "Women tend to be attracted to less severe personalities. But you chose him to build upon your character. That's good judgement." 

‘Well, I sure as hell didn't pick him for his sparkling personality.’ I thought to myself, taking his statement as a compliment. It was nice to hear that he thought I had made the right decision, but I'm pretty confident I wouldn't have become a servant if I had chosen him. Ayumu on the other hand, I'm not so certain...

Soma laughed as he saw me about to sigh again. "You'll be undergoing an exam given by the instructors in two months time..." He seemed to be warning me about how defeated I seemed only on my second day. "...There will be forced withdrawals with failure." For a moment, Soma looked so cold that a shiver ran down my spine. 

‘Was that... a threat?’

Yet, his smile immediately returned when my brows furrowed slightly. 

"I'm sure that if you study well under Kaga, you'll grow much faster than others." The quick switch he made threw me off beginning to trust him. 

‘I guess you can never be too careful around here.’ I thought as I thanked him by lowering my head. Soma then left with a smile plastered on his face. 

~~~~~~

Outside of the school building, on my way to clear my head, I find Naruko talking with some other students. "Atsuko! Were you really made an aide earlier?" Naruko screamed at me as I approached them. Even though I was beginning to see the positives of this situation, however few, the excitable yelling put me back on edge. 

"Yeah... is it already getting around?" I got uneasy with everyone knowing. ‘If something like this got around within the hour, what would happen if news of my fraud got out?’

"The school is buzzing with it! Atsuko, which instructor did you get?" I could tell her excitement would be cut short when I told her. 

Exactly as I predicted, the group of students Naruko had been talking to started to pity me.

"I feel so sorry for you... Out of all of them, you got Instructor Kaga." One said. 

"But, come to think of it, she did choose him first. She's got guts." His friend spoke up. 

"I'm just trying to show 'em what I've got! I figured it'd be a good learning opportunity to follow him around." I sheepishly rubbed the back of my neck as I put on a smile, secretly regretting my past choices. ‘If I’m going to end up just doing his laundry or cleaning up after him, I don't know how that could be at all beneficial.’

"But if you were chosen as his aide, doesn't that mean he likes you?" Naruko peered into my faltering smile. 

"Doubt it. He flat out rejected me when I went to introduce myself." I sighed, slouching dejectedly. Naruko gasped out in shock. 

"It's no wonder he's called the 'Demon Instructor'. Harsh." She pats my shoulder sympathetically, although there seems to be a bit of admiration in her eyes. 

"Sorry, but... You probably haven't even seen the worst of the Demon Instructor." A classmate interrupted my silent moping. 

"What do you mean?" Shocked he could get any worse, my eyes widened. 

"You don't know? I heard this from the other guys, but..." His friend seems guilty even having to tell me. "He's crazy. He's solved tons of cases on his own." The statement didn't make me worry too much. If he had an eye for crime, I wasn't going to fault him for that. We may have had different upbringings, but I could tell when someone had done something bad. 

"But..." He continued, which did make me anxious. "There's a rumour he killed his partner..." The sheer will to be able to say that on school grounds surprised me, let alone the accusation. As Naruko and I show our shock, the student makes sure to say he doesn't know if it's actually true.

"But he seems like the type who'd sacrifice someone for his own gain." The first guy spoke up again. 

"No," I state sternly, making everyone stare at me. I knew what a cop killer looked like. My father has had officers kill their partners when they got too close to discovering the mole in the force. I didn't believe Kaga would risk that if he was such a good detective. 

"What do you mean ‘no’?" The guy responded and I shook my head. 

"Don't worry about it." I sighed, embarrassed I had just spoken up like that. How would I explain myself by disagreeing with everyone who seemed to agree with the sentiment? On paper, they were all much more experienced than me in the force and with crime. Physically though...

"A man with a past..." Naruko spoke up and I could already tell what she was going to say about our mysterious inspector. 

"Anyways, I heard from Instructor Soma that there's gonna be an exam in two months. Whoever fails: flunks." Wanting to warn my classmates before it's too late, I watch all their expressions fall further. 

"Really? That's harsher than I thought." Another guy standing with us sighs out in dismay. As I think about how easy it would be for Kaga to kick everyone out of the academy, I remind myself I have to work my hardest, no matter the instructor I'm working under, to reach my dream. As I'm reminded of why I'm here, I can't help but smile at the thought of all my hard work paying off.  

"Atsuko, you have that scary look on your face again." Naruko has an uneasy smile of her own as she points me out to the rest of the group.

"I'm just getting excited. I'm going for a run, so I'll see you around!" I waved as I ran back to the dorms to change. 

"But, Atsuko! What about our training earlier?" Maybe worrying about my mental and physical health, Naruko called after me, but I just waved again before continuing on my way.

~~~~~~

A few days later, Kaga is giving us a hands-on lecture about interrogation. "Today I'm going to show you how an actual interrogation would go. Use of force should depend on who you're facing and what it'll take to break them." 

‘In other words, they can use torture in Public Safety.’ The statement made me stiff as that was the only type of interrogation I was used to. The Captain flipped a switch and the scene of an interrogation showed up on the monitor. 

"Spit it out already!" Kaga is practically screaming across the table, but the criminal doesn't say a word. "I'm going to enjoy seeing just how long you can keep silent." There's a loud crash as a chair goes flying across the room and I can see that scary, victorious grin spread across Kaga's face. 

"W-Wait! I don't-!" But, before the criminal can reject, Kaga grabbed him by the scruff of his collar and coldly tells him to "shut up". 

"I have no use for guys who don't talk." Kaga raised his hand to the criminal as his smile grew. Then, Kaga swung it at him without any hesitation whatsoever. 

"Okay, I'll talk! I'll talk, so stop it!" With the cries of the criminal's words, Kaga's hand stops just short of the man's cheek. 

"Too late," Kaga replied. It really did seem like he was enjoying this.

"I'll tell you everything I know! Please!" The criminal begs for his safety before Kaga even hits him. It's like the mere threat of being injured was enough to break him. 

Like he hadn’t heard a word, Kaga kicked the chair out from under the suspect. As we watch the criminal drop to the floor, the room starts to buzz. Unfortunately, one student spoke up through that murmuring. 

"Um... The criminal was willing to confess... Was it necessary to go that far?" One of the guys Naruko was talking to the day I was elected as an aide pipes up. 

"I told you, it depends on who you're dealing with." Kaga, completely composed compared to the video, frowns at us all. "He had a record. If he didn't say everything, he'd have gone out on bail." Kaga explains tiredly. It seemed to be a hassle for him to even turn up to the lecture. "But, by planting fear from the start, I made him confess everything." Kaga finishes and I can't help but ask. 

"How can you ensure he didn't falsely confess?" The room went stiff at the idea of my accusal. 

"What?" Kaga glares down at me and I steel my nerves before explaining myself. 

"How can you make sure he didn't just confess because he was worried for his life?" I rephrase the question but it only made him sterner. As he stared at me, I felt all my classmates pitying me. 

"We already had evidence of him committing the crime. It made for an easier court case for him to confess as well." The surprisingly non hostile response shocked everyone in the room, although his expression was just as aggressive as it was a moment ago. 

"Thank you, sir." Not wanting to leave on bad terms, I thanked him for explaining before he returned to the video. 

~~~~~~

By the time Kaga's terrifying interrogation is finished, the class is tense. Except for me. I was used to seeing these forms of violence, but it still made me a little on edge. To think that was legal was a little frightening. 

"That's for reference. Drive it into your heads." Kaga clicked off the video on the presentation. "Now I'm going to divide you all into detectives and suspects for a simulation." The idea made my ears buzz. Thinking back to the video, I wondered who would go too far. 

"Ahh, but there's an odd number of you... One extra." Kaga sighed, looking at the sheet of students' names. “One of you will have to be paired with me." Knowing my luck, my hands froze at the concept of me being his partner. Around me, the class buzzed with fear that they too could be chosen. 

"The person paired with me will get special training in a real interrogation room," Kaga smirked at, even still, everyone avoiding his gaze. I tried to at least look in his direction, although I was secretly freaking out. 

He clicks his tongue at the scene of terrified students before him. "You're all a waste of space. Are any of you capable of this?" The captain complains. "If nobody volunteers, you all fail." He crosses his arms as he forces us to push forth a martyr. I met his gaze in surprise that he would try to kick us all out in one fell swoop. He chuckles, signalling I would be paired with him just for looking at him. I panicked, annoyed I put myself in this situation again. 

"Hurry up, servant." Kaga glares down at my frozen state.

 "Are you sure you want me?" Trying to direct the attention away, Kaga casually rejects everyone else. 

"It's not like you're a bad choice. Anyone will do." He crosses his arms, turning to walk out of the room. 

‘It's a good opportunity, Atsuko.’ Every time I find myself telling myself that, I believe it less and less. 

Kaga sends everyone to team up before walking towards the door. "Let's go. Don't loaf around." Kaga complains and I jump up. 

"Please wait!" I rush after him as I hear my classmates gossiping about what he called me. 

~~~~~~

In the interrogation room, I find myself becoming increasingly nervous. ‘Could I use what I watched dad doing? I might as well use my experiences in my favour.’ I thought to myself as Kaga locked the door behind us. I couldn't help but feel guilty about the idea of ever using what my father taught me. I ran away because I didn't want to do things that way. 

"You be the detective, I'll be the suspect." Kaga sits in the chair opposite the wall with a monitor hooked up. "Give it a try. Use my earlier interrogation." He instructs with an unphased expression, referring to the instructions he had given us. 

"Right now?" Shocked he wouldn't give me any pointers, I began to wonder why he would bother showing up here if he was going to throw us all out in the deep end. Suspecting none of us had any experience in this, how were we meant to learn from a single video?

"Of course, Did you think we'd rehearse it bit by bit?" Kaga seemed offended by the idea of actual training as I grew nervous. My palms even began to sweat. He crosses his arms and stares at me, judging me even by the way I stand. He commands me to start and I take a deep breath. 

"You've been arrested due to the evidence against you. So, you want to tell me what really happened?" I looked down at the folder in my hands that had a fake report inside. Kaga stayed silent. 

"...Fair enough.” Sighing, I continued my gazing at the paper under my nose. “I wouldn't wanna talk either if I was working with these guys." I forced out a chuckle, slapping the folder on the table. I hadn't sat down since we entered the room. 

"But, you know it won't matter, right? It only takes a rumour to get around that you spilled to get you in trouble." I thought back to what my father said to a snitch he found in his ranks once. "And one little rumour is enough to make you paranoid. I wonder what they'll do to you?" I remembered what my father did and used it as an example. "Probably chop off your finger with a cleaver. Threaten your family. Or, you might not be able to make a family when they're done with you." Dealing with a man, I thought the best threat would be to threaten his manhood. The expression I made was indifferent, but none of my warnings seemed to affect Kaga at all. 

‘How is this supposed to work if he knows it's all fake? I never understood hypothetical scenarios.’ My internal thoughts of injustice were unheard, and hopefully unseen on my facial features.

Kaga stayed silent throughout the whole process and, with him avoiding my gaze, I began to lose my nerve. "Do you give up?" He turned back to me and I sighed. 

"Yes." I frowned at myself. ‘I guess I wasn't intimidating enough to use my father’s tactics.’

"The suspects we handle in the Public Safety Division will be like that. They're not exactly happy to talk." The statement the captain made seemed so obvious, but I had yet to know how to get them to talk. Defeated, I sat in the chair across from him. 

"Let's switch. You be the suspect now." 

Being interrogated by the Demon Instructor seemed like a nightmare, but I wanted to learn how to do this right, so I agreed. ‘You just gotta stay quiet, Atsuko. Keep. Your mouth. Shut.’ I told myself as I looked into his eyes. 

"Well..." He peered into my face extremely closely. If I dared to move, our lips would touch. I could smell the lingering scent of a cigarette on his breath. I tried to match his gaze as the closeness secretly really bothered me. The scent was familiar, probably because everyone I used to know smoked, but it wasn't just that fact. 

In the silent interrogation room, my anxious heart beated faster than usual. Maybe it was all the energy I exerted yesterday, but I was beginning to feel overtired and very hyperaware. 

"You did it, didn't you?" Kaga whispered as he peered into my face. I kept my expression stoned as I wonder how he'll proceed, but my heart was racing. 

‘What have I done? Has he discovered something in my past?’ The truth perhaps? ‘I knew I probably wouldn’t last long, being surrounded by professional detectives, but I’m only three days in!’

“I see..." He sounded amused at how I didn't react and stood up straight. I looked up to match his gaze, only to have him lift me up by my wrists and push me against the wall behind us. 

"There's proof." He glides his finger against my jaw and I feel a rush tingle up my spine. "Do I look like a man who'll go easy on you because you're a woman?" The statement, however true, did make me sulk a little. Internally, of course. Never had I evermore wanted to be treated differently.

Kaga pressed his body so closely that I could barely move. "Or... Do you want to let me have some fun in exchange for overlooking this?" With those words, I began to get that he wasn't talking about the case we were given. It made me uneasy to be locked in a soundproof room with him as he likely referred to my falsified application. My eyes flashed with recognition, but I forced my mouth shut.  

"I'm fine either way." He laughed, but I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. His breath tickled my ear and I could feel that area redden from the heat. 

"So? What have you been wanting to do to me?" Ideas flashed through my mind, but the one I settled on I wouldn't be able to say. If I admitted to wanting to kick a man in the balls, I'd likely get suspended. 

Seeing my famed confusion, Kaga continued. "You seemed excited when I pushed you down in that love hotel." He smirked and I became increasingly embarrassed. Sure, he was good looking, Naruko made me aware of that, but no way in hell would I want to do anything like that with him. Do you know how much of a slut that would make me look? 

"Want me to continue what I started that time?" A teasing smirk reappeared on his face and I gulped. "I see." His voice was low, only being a few centimetres apart, he didn't need to raise it. The raspiness of his whisper helped keep my heart rate up. As I looked away, embarrassed I was reacting so much to him, he grabbed my chin and easily turned me back to face him. His handsome features neared mine until I couldn't take it anymore. 

"Tap out! I tap out." Panicked, I repeated to ensure he heard me. 

"Finally. That took some time." He sighed, stepping back. 

My breathing was a little ragged as I recollected what just happened. "You struggling there?" He showed me another concerned look and I quickly stopped. Surprisingly, I couldn't compare that experience to any situations I had watched my father in. 

"Anyway, you should be glad. You have a weapon that we don't." Kaga suddenly announced and I threw him a confused look. "Your body. You could use it against male suspects. And the more inclined female ones." He admitted and I was just more confused. I had never been a very good-looking girl. My father would complain that my body was too toned and I needed to pudge myself up a bit to attract the opposite sex. It never bothered me, I didn't care about anything he said, but I was surprised Kaga would insinuate I use my feminine wiles against men. 

"Well, you would have to be sexier, though." And there it was, the critique I was waiting for! "Maybe it'd be better to train you in that area?" He suggested and I genuinely thought it over. If I could use something to get a foothold in the class competition, I'd be happy to use it. 

"What? Like, using seduction techniques?" I questioned, surprised it would even be an option for me. I had never been in a relationship and had never felt the need to. Everyone I was surrounded by as a child were older or scared of my family and, since running away, I was too focused on keeping to myself and work. 

"There may be times when it's necessary. If you've got sex appeal, you should use it." He explained and I considered the issue. 

‘I would prefer to use real detective work, but if I'm not intimidating, it may come to that.’ I pursed my lips as I thought it over. 

In the end, the interrogation class comes to an end without another word from either of us. 

~~~~~~

The rumour about me being Kaga's servant had spread across the school pretty quickly, having only been a day since the captain outed me in front of the entire class. I've now been summoned to the Staff Room by Kaga. 

"Sorry for being late!" I called out, having knocked and entered the room. 

"You're late. Just how long did you plan on making me wait?" Kaga frowned down at my sorry state. I had been helping Naruko with a laundry malfunction when I realised I would be late for the scheduled time. 

"It's only three minutes." I sulked to myself, not realising I was speaking out loud. Kaga only frowned at me and I quickly apologised and shut my mouth. His glare was as cold and scary as ever. He sighed, calling me useless again. 

"Oh well. Get these in order by tomorrow." Kaga dropped a huge stack of documents in front of me with a thunk. I was in shock by the sudden workload before me. "Documentation of past incidents that Public Safety is keeping an eye on." He explained what the files actually entailed. "Sort these and file them. If you have time, put them in the database too." 

‘And by “if you have time” he means, you better do this too or I'll punish you. 

‘It'll take hours to do all this.’ Even with my short experience as a PA at a law firm, I never had this much work to do in such a small amount of time. I had odd jobs before I entered the academy to be able to live. That job reinstalled my dream of being a cop and never having to work a desk job like what I had. 

"Looks like you have a complaint?" Kaga frowned at me and I quickly shook my head. 

"It'll be done, Instructor." Maybe promising too much, I didn't want to give him a chance to kick me out of the school, so I grabbed the documents and left the Instructors' Staff Room. 

When I exited again, Naruko was outside waiting for me. Her eyes went wide at the piles of papers in my hands. "Woah, what's with all that?"

"I have to get them filed by tomorrow." I sighed, believing Kaga couldn't hear us. 

"By tomorrow? Will you make it?" Naruko tried and failed to keep her voice low, but her shock made her too energised. 

"If I start right when classes end I might just make it." I showed her a determined smile, assuming I could get it done with enough willpower. 

"That sounds terrible. I'll give you a hand if you'd like?" 

Giving me the offer of the century, a voice spoke up before I could respond. "You know what happens if you get help?" 

Without either of us realising, Kaga had come out of the Instructors' Room and was directly next to me. I jumped out of my skin, almost dropping my new assignment. 

"Hey, Instructor. Where are you going?" Trying to play off my surprise with a much calmer tone, I turned to him with an uneasy smile. 

"That has nothing to do with you." He's turned around before I can finish my question, already walking down the corridor. 

"But you said you had no investigations today?" I called out, but he just told me to be quiet and insulted me. 

"Why moron? Out of all the insults?" I muttered under my breath at the recurring word, watching his back disappear around the corner. 

~~~~~~

On our way back to the dorms, we met a few of our classmates. "Instructor Kaga is so scary! But that's fine!" Naruko cheered, obviously into every guy we seem to run into. 

"Even if he's scary, too much is too much." A classman began to question me about the ‘slavery allegations’ circulating the school, but I quickly reject the rumour. 

"No, no-no. It's just, if I say I can't, he tells me to quit." I laughed uneasily. 

"But, you do get to see him up close." The other classmate became dreamy-eyed. "Is it true he does everything based on intuition?" The question made me think back on all the time the Instructor and I had spent together. Which wasn’t much, but still more than the rest of the students here. 

"Yeah... I guess." 

‘To be honest, most of the things he does are without any sort of planning.’ 

"Even when he has no evidence, he'll just say 'it's my intuition'." I explained, almost laughing at the idea of how unsafe that is. Surely an investigation would get ripped to pieces if the only clue to the criminal was an investigator's gut. 

"Changing plans all the time because of his intuition must be exhausting." Naruko sighed.

"Don't worry, Naruko. I'll always make time for you!" I teased and she laughed back. 

"But everyone is jealous that you get to learn from him." The only thing I could think of when Naruko said how much she wanted to be in my position was my first mission. 

‘So much for learning on the job.’ I sighed to myself as I thought back on all the sexual harassment cases I could have made against the Instructor if I wasn't a student. Even on my first mission, I was just used to gather evidence. I didn't have any training as to how I could actually do it.

"That interrogation was scary, but apparently he has a 99% confession rate." A classmate pulled me out of my thoughts. 

‘I'm not surprised. With all the scum he deals with, a pinch on the arm would get them to confess.’ I sighed internally as my classmates continued to gossip.