#i guess it wouldn't technically be PAPERwork

[yupuffin]

Ooh, what if his basic-at-best knowledge of resonators works in favor of this particular scenario? Maybe through some mix-up he gets his hands on the paperwork and doesn't realize that it's pretty technical medical information until he finishes reading it and then he goes OH SHOOT... still not sure of the specifics but that could work

All right, fellow WuWa OC makers and/or writers... I've had a ficlet idea for months but I'm running into a pretty substantial snag in terms of character motivations/plot.

Quay needs a reason to read Mortefi's forte examination report.

I've loosely gathered from the information available about resonators and forte diagnostics that Solaris-3 probably does not have anything like HIPAA that would make these classified documents, i.e. they're probably available somewhere publicly or at least if you know the right steps to access them. (Like I imagine there's probably a way someone can either look them up or have them looked up by a professional, for public safety reasons.)

The issue is that since he's so shy and unassuming he normally would avoid doing so for fear of prying, Quay probably wouldn't willingly read Mortefi's exam report even if he got the chance to. So he'd need a pretty strong motivator... he'd probably more easily fold to a negative stimulus, like being worried about something happening if he didn't have this information.

(For background, I don't know how much Quay knows about resonators in general, but I feel like it's not much more than whatever the public baseline is. He's not a resonator himself, and marine bio is more his thing 🤣 )

Alternatively, Quay could somehow glean the information in the report on accident, but I'm not sure how that would work from a technical standpoint. Maybe overhearing someone else talk about it? (though it'd have to be in quite some detail)

Ideas/thoughts/headcanons/wild suggestions? 🤔🤔🤔

[castillon02]

Tim reviews Jason's operations management and makes a suggestion.

"Your first move: hire a head of sanitation," Tim said.

"You think a janitor's gonna solve my suddenly-successful-startup problems? What, by sweeping them away?" Jason rolled his eyes.

Tim steepled his fingers. “The good news,” he said, “is that your drug distribution and community norms enforcement hierarchy is very clear. You also have people doing marketing, program management, HR, facilities, and admin. Your system of rotating duties when people get injured isn’t bad—people generally benefit from cross-training—but you should formalize the top positions and compensate your new leadership team. Including sanitation.” 

“Sure, sure, I'll just tell one of my guys their job is to be head shit-scrubber instead of a badass neighborhood protector!" Jason threw up his hands.

Tim raised his eyebrows.

“It’s bad enough getting them to clean up a crime scene when they’re on my literal shit list! A couple of them thought that lighting the building on fire was an easier way to get it to stop smelling bad and having DNA. Guess who had to add five new slides to his powerpoint about evidence disposal?" Jason glared.

Tim grimaced. "I had an intern in the office who thought that he could just throw trash off his desk for the cleaning staff to pick up."

He and Jason shared a commiserating look that silently said, We were both stupid enough to work with the League of Assassins, and even we wouldn't do that.

“Anyway," Tim continued, "since you're dealing with...that...you can just hire an outside party. Lots of people in Gotham know how to clean up dead bodies and keep their mouths shut. I can advertise the position and send you the likeliest candidates for an interview. I’ll have to incorporate you, of course, but I’ve had the paperwork ready since I got back from the Middle East.” 

“Incorporate me?” 

“Red Hood LLC, technically."

Jason's breathing became calculatedly even.

"Once you’re legit in the eyes of the law, we can work on squaring away everyone’s taxes and keep you from getting Capone’d.” 

“I’m as legit as one of Two-Face’s two-dollar bills!” 

“Yeah, but when you’re an LLC, all your crimes are white-collar crimes, and no one cares about those.” Tim shrugged.

“...Pretty sure that’s not how that works, bud.” 

“It’s how the court of public opinion works. And if anyone tries to say that Red Hood, CEO of Red Hood LLC, and Red Hood, notorious vigilante, are the same person? Tell them to prove it. So what if you have the same outfit? It’s a free country and people can wear what they want. And if they ever get your DNA results, Oracle says no they didn't.”

Jason tilted his head and started smiling. "You want Red Hood to be the Scarlet Pimpernel and Percy Blakeney. At the same time."

"The more blatant you are about it, the better. Rub elbows with Gotham's elite and tell them that you can't imagine why someone would let a Crime Alley vigilante ruin their ability to wear a red hood as a fashion statement, but in your company, people have spines. Especially when they're job creators. If you play your cards right, red headgear will be back in fashion."

"And then?"

"And then," Tim's eyes gleamed, "you start selling merch."

"Oh, shit." Jason's smile turned into a full-on smirk.

"On a sliding scale, of course."

"Those nepo babies are gonna pay me so much money to look cool."

Tim smiled. "And that's how hiring a head shit-scrubber is going to mitigate your high growth and cash flow problems."

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for Lux; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! I, uh, was only supposed to write nine sentences for this, buuuuut I didn't only write nine sentences for this. 😅 LOOK, I HIT A GROOVE, I'M NOT SORRY. Enjoy your read-more, y'all.

“Do you want some ideas for names?” Billy offers. Most kids don’t get to “legally” name themselves quite this way, so he feels like helping Superboy pick a good name is important. He wants him to have one he really likes. “I know a lot of them. Or we could look some up online? Batman got us a desktop and got you a laptop and a tablet, in case you need one for anything. Oh, and there’s phones, so we can keep in contact! I should grab you yours, actually, it’s . . . somewhere in the kitchen, I think.” 

“‘Ideas’?” Superboy repeats, looking a little uncomfortable. “Like . . . what?” 

“I just mean suggestions,” Billy promises, immediately distracted from the phone by Superboy’s apparent discomfort. The phone can wait. “You can pick any name you want, it’s up to you. I’m not gonna, like, veto you or anything.” 

“. . . sure,” Superboy says. He still looks uncomfortable and Billy still can’t be sure he really means it, but . . . well, he just has to do his best, he guesses.

“You don’t have to decide right away, you can think it over for a bit,” he says. “But we at least need something to put on the paperwork. You can always change it later if you decide you don’t like it.” 

“Whatever,” Superboy says, his mouth thinning. Billy thinks Cadmus was sort of terrible for not giving him a name. Actually, no, Cadmus was really terrible for that.

“How about I just list some, and if you like any of them, you can just say?” he suggests. 

“Whatever,” Superboy repeats, looking away. Well . . . it’s not a “no”, at least, so Billy figures they can try, and if Superboy gets annoyed, they’ll just stop and try again later. 

“Okay,” he says. “Um . . . let’s see, what are some good ones . . . David, Asher, Zachary, Parker, Otto, Levi . . . um . . .” 

Superboy’s jaw tightens. Billy stops listing names and bites his tongue. Okay. The name thing is a sore spot, maybe. Or maybe Superboy just doesn’t like any of his suggestions and thinks he’s lame, he guesses. That might also be, like . . . a thing. 

“I’ll try to think of some more later,” Billy says, repressing a guilty wince and grasping desperately for a new topic. “Do you, uh . . . have any questions? Or anything like that?” 

Probably he should’ve asked that sooner, come to think. 

"How often are you gonna be here?" Superboy asks, still looking away. Billy can’t really read what he can see of his face very well, but hopefully once they know each other better he'll get better at that kind of thing. Like, he’ll have to, right? 

"Oh, like–pretty much whenever I'm not doing hero stuff or on any League missions," he says. "I'll make sure and tell you if I'm ever gonna be gone overnight or anything like that, okay?" 

Superboy . . . blinks. Looks back at him. 

"You're going to live here?" he asks in confusion. Billy blinks too, tilting his head.

"Yeah," he says. "I mean, it wouldn't be very nice of me to just ditch you here all by yourself, would it?" 

"I can take care of myself," Superboy says, his expression shuttering. Billy frowns. 

"Well, sure, but that doesn't mean anybody's gonna make you," he says. Just because Superboy’s physically old enough to take care of himself doesn’t mean he’s not technically still a baby. He deserves to get taken care of and have somebody help him figure out, like . . . everything, pretty much. Civilian life and superhero stuff both. 

That’s why Billy’s doing this, so . . . yeah. 

“Why?” Superboy says. 

“Because that’d be really mean,” Billy says. “And we’re the good guys, so we have to be the good guys.” 

Superboy’s jaw tightens again, and then he folds his arms and looks away again too. He looks upset. Billy wishes he knew how to fix it. Like–even just a little bit. He knows sometimes that stuff just doesn’t “fix”, but . . . still. He’s trying to be a good dad here, so he feels like he should fix things like Superboy being upset. 

Well–he guesses just letting him work through being upset is okay too, if it comes to it. For when things aren’t that easy to get distracted from. Billy would also have a lot to be upset about if he’d been made in a lab and told he was supposed to be somebody he’s not and gotten mind-controlled the first time he’d ever woken up for real. Like, that’s a really shit first day. 

Superboy must feel really weird, too. Cadmus probably didn’t really teach him how to be a kid or a teenager, since they were trying to make an adult Superman, so it’s no wonder he thinks they’re gonna make him take care of himself. Billy’s gonna have to help him learn how being a kid works, he’s pretty sure. 

Well, he can do that. And, well, Superboy’s friends can cover the “teenager” stuff, he guesses. Like, probably. 

. . . maybe he could find a couple parenting books or something. A parenting book might be a good idea. 

"I just don't get it," Superboy says after a long moment staring at the wall, tensing his folded arms. "What about when you have to get back to your real life? Like your . . . your job and your house and your . . . family. This is keeping you away from all that." 

"Oh," Billy realizes, blinking at him in surprise. He guesses Superboy probably would expect him to have that kinda stuff, huh. "No, I don't really . . . have any of those, technically? I mean, I am human, I wasn't lying or anything, I just don't have a job or another house or anything like that. Actually the Justice League is paying for all of this, 'cause we were all talking about the best place for you to live and Superman asked if maybe I could take care of you, and I had to tell him I couldn't 'cause I didn't actually have anything to take care of you with, but Batman said the League could set up a stipend to pay for stuff and help me get a place and all that if I wanted to do it, sooooo . . ." 

". . . Superman asked you to take care of me?" Superboy asks hesitantly, shifting in his bean bag and finally glancing back to him again. 

"Yeah," Billy confirms with a nod, a little relieved that Superboy’s looking at him again. Well–close to him, anyway. He’s not quite making eye contact, but that’s fine. "Well, him and Batman. Because my powers are kinda close to yours so I can help you train and stuff, but also Kryptonians are vulnerable to magic so if you've got any mind control triggers in your head that we missed I should be able to stop you without having to hurt you. Like I could restrain you until we could help you or until you could snap out of it on your own, I mean." 

"Oh," Superboy says, blinking slowly. "I just figured somebody had some kryptonite somewhere in case something like that happened." 

"No," Billy says, frowning at the thought. Geez, what kind of an awful dad would he be if he did that? He's seen what kryptonite does to Superman and it totally sucks. "Kryptonite hurts. I'm not gonna let anybody use kryptonite on you. Er–well, probably eventually a bad guy will when you're on a mission, that's kind of how those go, but we're definitely not gonna keep any here.” 

"Why not?" Superboy asks, frowning back at him. "It's more efficient than actually fighting me. And I might injure you if I'm like that." 

"Yeah," Billy says. "But also somebody bad could use it against you if they ever broke in and found it. And this is, um–well. This is your home now, so I don't think there should be things that could hurt you in it anyway." 

Superboy stares blankly at him again. Billy tries not to fidget. 

"There were lots of things that could hurt me in Cadmus," Superboy says, his face staying very, very blank in a way that Billy immediately hates. 

"Well, this isn't Cadmus," Billy says firmly, trying to look as sincere and trustworthy and dad-ly as he knows how to. He had a really, really great dad. He can pay that forward. Superboy deserves a great dad too. "I'm taking care of you now, and I don't want kryptonite or anything like it around you. Ever." 

Superboy stares at him. His expression is really complicated-looking and Billy doesn't understand it, so he just keeps trying to look as dad-ly as possible. Hopefully that'll help, or at least won't hurt. 

". . . what about your family, though?" Superboy asks after a long moment, flicking his eyes away uncomfortably. Billy really hopes he's doing this right. "Or do you, uh, not have one of those either?" 

"Um," Billy says. "Well, I have the worst uncle in the world who I really hope is rotting in prison somewhere by now, but otherwise it's just you."

"What?" Superboy frowns again, looking confused. "What's just me?" 

"Uh . . . my family?" Billy replies, a little embarrassed. He hasn't actually had any family that he could still want to be around in . . . well, a really long time now, so it feels sort of weird to say it, but it is true. Dubiously-legally true, given all the fake paperwork Batman’s been putting together, but still true. 

Superboy gives him the blank stare yet again. Billy feels like a moron, but–well, he's not gonna take it back. Even if Superboy thinks he's presuming too much too quick or something, which admittedly he kinda is, Billy also can't imagine how awful it'd be hearing someone call you their family and then say they weren't really or hadn't actually meant it or just . . . whatever. 

Superboy might not even care if he did, but . . . 

Well. Billy would care. So he's not gonna.

Ever.

[animeomegas]

Oh, I have an ask! Which Naruto omegas do you think would be good at (and slightly enjoy) helping their pups with homework? And those that just leave it to their alpha😂

Lol! This is such a good one! Okay, let's see~

ENJOY/GOOD AT:

Chouji - There's something comforting for him about sitting down with his pups after school and helping with homework. I wouldn't say he's excited for it or anything, it just makes him feel content. He's patient, and a great teacher too. He's good at building confidence and de-escalating frustration if his child is struggling.

Shino - He's a teacher by profession, and if anything, I think he's even better teaching his own children. He finds teaching rewarding and is the sort to take the homework and then apply it to the real world to help it sink in. If his pup is learning addition, he's having them count out ingredients for dinner. If his pup is learning kanji, he helps them write a little story. That kind of thing. It's technically more homework, I guess lol!

Neji - He's very good at it, if a little intense. He homeschools though, so the intensity kind of comes with the job. I wouldn't say he always enjoys it, I think it depends on the lesson, but he likes the structure and seeing his pup grow.

Iruka - Again, he's obviously good at it, being a teacher and all. I don't think he enjoys it though, he more views it as a necessity, but he'd rather not be doing more teaching on his time off lol.

Kisame - I think he enjoys it more than he's good at it. I think he would be better with certain learning styles. But he finds it enjoyable. He likes children and he can make homework fun most of the time.

Gai - I don't think I have to explain this one :D

DESPISE/BAD AT:

Naruto - uuuuuuuuh, he hates it. Homework is the only thing worse than paperwork in his opinion. He's definitely down to help his pups learning to throw shuriken or something, but sit down style homework is not his forte. He passes to his alpha or offers to pay for a tutor.

Sasuke - So awkward, my goodness. He doesn't know what children are supposed to know, he has no idea how the academy has changed since he was there, he would probably be accidentally patronising or too advanced and piss off his child lol. Hard pass for him.

Shikamaru - "Just don't do it," is what he wants to say. But he knows his alpha will have his head, so he keeps his mouth shut.

Kiba - He doesn't hate it, I guess, and he's happy to help for shorter things. But when it comes to sitting down for long periods of time, he just can't keep his attention on it. He's got so many other children, I feel like if one of his children is struggling with homework, he gets a relative to help them. Probably his sister, rip.

Itachi - He want to been good at it... but he's not. He's so out of touch with civilian school things, it's almost funny. And he's too good at the shinobi arts, so he can't dumb things down enough, or explain his thought process properly. He's one of those learners that just 'gets things', and that makes him a bad teacher. Add on the fact that he'd rather be cuddling or playing with his children, and he finds himself in this category lol.

Anyone not on the list I either forgot about or they fall somewhere in the middle on both counts ;)

[toxifoxx]

wait so how did they go about hiding it from the public like huh. did they just pretend he WASN'T pregnant and rolled a nat 20 on deception or whatever so everyone believed them? <- they call me the intriguerrr

HEHEHE im glad you asked

so first of all i think william had a good few months before anyone could notice that he's pregnant. mainly because it takes like 5 months before you can really tell (as far as ive noticed from the pictures ive seen), but since william is fat, he could probably make it a bit further than that without it being noticable. id say like maybe month 6 or 7 but sadly theres not a lot of references for how it'd look (the amount of fatphobic slop ive waded through trying to research this… anyways, i think its most noticeable when the spine really starts arching(?))

but i digress! william would insist on continuing to perform until the suit gets too tight (dangerous) for him. month 4ish. someone else would perform for him, or springbonnie would just stay in animatronic mode. but he can still go about his normal life for a while, its when he starts to show that it becomes a problem for him - so for the most part, he's withdrawing from the public eye. he hates having to keep hidden like this but his reputation is the most important thing to him and ofc he cant have people figuring out hes trans and queer.

henry covers for him, while he might not be great at doing social things, most people are intimidated enough they dont ask him whats up with william - or they get a short, simple excuse from him. as for how clara would cover for him, well, its a bit harder to answer. but since its utah, and william is well respected, i think a lot of people wouldn't even realize if they saw him. he could lie to their faces. like oh yeah he's a man and men cant get pregnant theres noooo way that can happen, no sir.

regardless he's only really going to be doing things behind the scenes to minimize the possibility anyone finds out. so he comes in early in the morning, does some work before any employees arrive or just stays in his office doing paperwork all day (maybe changes up the schedule so he gets to work on the animatronics too, he'd go crazy if he couldn't i think), then leaves early so no one catches him. kinda sucks but you do what you gotta do (william is so incredibly antsy and ready to get back to things already by the end of it)

and i guess technically yeah, they rolled a nat 20 on deception. pulled some leafpool from warriors type shit.

quick clarification at the end here. lizzie was born 2-3 years before fredbears opens - so, i think he would stop working at that time and just do the isolating stuff. but since william also had evan, after fredbears opened, this still applies. its just that evan isn't henry's, LMAO.

[solo-by-choice]

alright, so would my fave survive castle Dracula? For the sake of @canyourfavesurvivecastledracula I'm doing Josh Lyman from The West Wing myself. Although I've only seen the show once and am not super... sure of my ability to remember enough minutiae to do this but I'm trying anywayyy

uh, no. He'd die. lol.

He wouldn't take the crucifix. He's not a superstitious person for the most part so I think he'd just find everyone freaking out about him going to the castle to be ridiculous. He's also Jewish. If he did take the crucifix, it would be to get the lady to stop bothering him and then he certainly wouldn't wear it.

He is technically a lawyer. I guess. He doesn't practice law, though, and I don't think he ever has. I suppose he could, but you know what let's not get into this because then I'll start questioning what an American from the late 90s/early naughts is doing in this story... (If Josh were from 1897 I suppose he'd be from Europe in the first place, but not England, and I'm having trouble imagining Dracula going to all this trouble to move to idk Poland or whatever.)

anyway

So maybe Josh doesn't make it past the shaving scene.

If he does, I think he might be able to keep alive for a while. He's good at talking; he could keep Dracula entertained as a conversation partner. The biggest issue might be his documented inability to be civil with people he doesn't like. He might be better at faking it with someone who has a (metaphorical) gun to his head, but we have no data on that kind of situation.

I doubt he'd put up with Dracula's weird touchy-feely habits. I'm not sure what he'd do about it, but I just don't think he'd be as fun to toy with as poor Jonathan because he wouldn't have Victorian manners preventing him from calling Dracula's behavior out. Which of course means Dracula won't put up with him as long.

If anyone's expecting him home on time, it's Donna. And presumably his boss is either Leo or Bartlett. (Sorry I'm thinking too much about transposing the cast of west wing into Dracula rather than assuming everything is the same in Josh's life which I think is how you're supposed to do this. So whyy is the deputy white house chief of staff bringing real estate paperwork to a count in Romania? oh nvm) Unfortunately I'm betting none of these people know shorthand, so Josh can't try and send them secret messages.

I do think Donna would recognize any letter that wasn't written in Josh's voice, but what good would that do them?

Does Josh get eaten by the Girlies? I guess the real question is whether Dracula saves him. I don't think Dracula would find Josh as fun a plaything as he did Jonathan. By this point Josh has probably started loudly demanding to be allowed to leave, is climbing the walls in boredom in every way but literally and has read every English book Dracula owns and taught himself basic Romanian. Josh's no genius, but he's smart and has the energy level of a working dog. He needs enrichment! Anyway Dracula probably thinks he's really annoying and maybe he lets his roommates bite him.

Unfortunately for him, Vampire!Josh is also annoying. But if they could get past that, Josh could do a great job running Dracula's take-over of his new country. Wants to be the guy the guy relies on, after all. America won't know what's hit it.

[shallow-wordsalad]

The morning passed quietly, sharing breakfast and watching television. Youkage's apartment is smaller than I'd expect, but larger than she needs. There's room enough for both of us no matter where we go, thanks in part to her clean and tidy standard of living. Her kitchen is neat and orderly, all her clothes methodically folded, and even her personal items are squared away to a corner of the living room.

A whole shelf of exotic art and tchotchkes, alongside framed pictures of people I don't recognize in front of historical landmarks and foreign places. A picture of a friend posing in front of Machu Picchu, with a pan flute beside it. A photo of two others at Mount Rushmore, with a snow-globe. A comically small beer stein made of brass, in front of a postcard from Neuschwanstein.

I guess she makes friends easily. I can understand why.

We had some snacks and tea at noon, and in the spirit of being a proper guest, I volunteered to clean the dishes. Youkage practically handcuffed a pair of rubber gloves onto me with a stern look. It probably is a good idea, but the layer of rubber is making it even harder to find the ends of my fingers. The extra time spent making sure I've got a firm grip is making this a lengthy chore, even just for plates and cups. Twice, now, Youkage has offered to step in but after everything else she's done for me, I admit I'm being stubborn about doing this myself.

By the time I'm finished with the last plate, the first has already dried on the rack. I sigh at it. Couldn't it be a little more understanding of my feelings? Impatient brat. I peel the gloves, heavy with dishwater, off my hands and set them to dry as well. Outside, wind has picked up and snow is falling in heavy clumps. The grey sky above promises bitter cold and low visibility. Probably a good day to be staying in, I reason.

Honestly, the more I think about it, the more I feel Youkage might have the right idea. I've already made a spectacle of myself to three Masters right at the starting gun. While I'm certain some will be intimidated, I'm certain others will be looking to take out the biggest threats quickly. Not to mention, Grigory knows where my house is—he's probably spying on it right now, waiting to ambush me. Laying low was part of my plan, though I expected to be fully rid of two competitors before I did. Regardless, I think it's smart to let matters resolve themselves, and maybe wait for an enemy to make a mistake.

I step away from the sink and sit besides Youkage on her sofa, watching her type something on a laptop computer.

Maybe Lancer or Saber will gather some attention on their own while I rest. Maybe I'll finally catch a glimpse of the Servants that didn't show to the opening ceremony. Maybe someone else will take Grigory out of the picture.

It makes sense to stay here. It’s safer, smarter. And if it also happens to be warm, and quiet, and—pleasant...Well, that’s just a coincidence.

What I'm doing is tactically sound. I wouldn't do it otherwise.

"Thanks, Kolya," Youkage says, entirely justifying my tactical choice with the warmth in her tone.

"What's this?" I curiously watch letters appear on screen, one by one, swiftly turning into kanji as they meet and become words.

"Paperwork. Half my job is filling out forms like these," she gestures to the screen, taking a moment to stretch her shoulders. "It's actually confidential information, so don't read it."

She doesn't do much to hide her work, but to be entirely honest I can't read two-thirds of what's on the screen anyway. Professional and technical terms in complicated kanji fill out the pages she types into, and I doubt I'd be able to understand them even if they were in Russian. I rub eyes that started to strain just from keeping up with her typing speed.

"This is half your job? As a doctor?" I turn my focus to her. Her face is flat and focused, the gleam of her screen reflected in her eyes. "I thought you did surgeries and gave people medicine."

"Nope. Well, yes, but no. I can't just hand people pills or schedule them for a heart transplant," she holds no happiness about this side of her work. "The board has to know what I want to do, what I'm doing, and what I did. I can't just say 'used magic' and call that a day, either."

"You use magic on civilians?" I blink.

"Only sometimes, during checkups or under anesthesia. Easy to write off as a 'sudden recovery'."

—I want to chide her improper use of magecraft, but she’s covering her tracks well enough. The way she weaves it into her work, like it's natural, is the hallmark of a good mage.

"Sorry," she finishes whatever she was doing, does some things that befuddle me, and then the form disappears from the screen. I'm left blinking while she finishes her thought. "You wanted to research Lancer, right? You wanna borrow my laptop?"

I'm left a bit stunned. She has information on Lancer on her computer? I furrow my brow and look at the numerous little buttons and switches, each with purpose vague.

"Here," Youkage passes the incomprehensible box into my lap, and I flinch away from it as it suddenly makes a noise?! Why is it whirring, and how do I tell it to do things...?

"O-of course," I say, putting my hands on it. Youkage is already snickering at me, but I can't even tell why.

I touch the small square that seems to control the cursor, and from that moment all hell breaks loose. A window frames a corner of the screen with important-looking text. The screen jitters as the little white arrow flies chaotically from corner to corner. Something on screen appears, then vanishes. The keys beneath my fingers feel arbitrary, either doing nothing or summoning an arcane function beyond comprehension. I try to simply get everything back to where it started, but somehow the entire screen zooms in on a single glowing word: "SUBMIT?"

A quiet panic rises in my chest. "This thing is cursed," I declare.

"I think you're just bad at it," Youkage explains, thoroughly amused

"I am not! It's...bad on purpose!" I protest. Youkage just laughs, holding her stomach as if my struggles with this infernal device are entirely for her entertainment. With careless grace, she leans over me and clicks on a few things, restoring order to her device instantly. Everything looks exactly as it did before I touched it. I scowl at the screen—it's mocking me, now.

"You want me to do it for you?" She asks, deliberately patronizing.

I narrow my eyes at her. "I am perfectly capable of using a computer!"

...Two minutes later, I've somehow turned the screen upside-down and changed the cursor into a tiny sword. Without a word, I passed the computer back to Youkage, and let her work her computer magic.

"So, you said he had a cross-spear," Youkage types on the laptop into a box at the top of a blank window. Whatever she's doing to put that thing to work is beyond me. "And was fighting with a style you didn't recognize. And he was stronger when he was outnumbered."

"Yes, that's right. He also knew some form of martial arts, I think," His movements seemed very deliberate, although I can't say much besides that.

"Not a lot to go off of. You said he was wearing armor, right? What colors?" Youkage scans through some information on her screen, conjured up by the magic of technology. I see pictures of spearmen in rows, straight out of encyclopedias, with whole pages of information about formation tactics and famous battles. Ah, that's right—feudal armies would often wear striking colors to identify friends from enemies in the chaos of melee.

"Red," That scarlet Lancer didn't seem to believe any other color existed. "A red coat and red armor."

"Like this?" She gestures to her screen, showing me a picture of a suit of feudal samurai armor. The same deep scarlet that Lancer wore, with an ostentatious helmet bearing tall antlers. The design is familiar, though only vaguely.

"Yes! That same color, but no helmet, and a long coat," I exclaim, marveling at the wonders of Youkage's skill at information-gathering.

"I think I got the idea, then," She slides the laptop back to me and guides my hand to a key that scrolls through a page of information. Historical facts dating back to the 16th century—sieges, castles, wars. Complicated kanji splay out across paragraphs, and I scan them in bits and pieces. The name, the armor, the spear... They all begin to connect. Youkage leans back, a calm pride in her expression.

"Lancer is probably Yukimura Sanada, the last hero of the Sengoku period."

—Yukimura Sanada, once known as Nobushige Sanada. He's one of Japan's most revered warriors, a figure whose skills on the battlefield were legendary. Referred to as the "Red Demon of War," his combat prowess was so remarkable that it was said one like him only appeared once in a century. Three of the most influential warlords of his time—Oda Nobunaga, Uesugi Kenshin, and Toyotomi Hideyoshi—recognized his talent and sought him out to bolster their forces. Despite being courted by these giants of his era, Yukimura's allegiances remained with his own clan, the Sanada, fiercely protecting his homeland even at the cost of his life. His strategy and skill in battle are studied to this day, and his role in the Siege of Osaka cemented his status as a warrior of mythical renown.

Among his most famous feats were his legendary defenses at Ueda and Osaka. On three occasions, he successfully repelled sieging forces at Ueda Castle, and later, at Osaka Castle, where he turned the tide of the siege through unmatched tactics and courage. His most renowned stand came during the Siege of Osaka, in the winter of 1614 to 1615. There, he defended his position at the fortress Sanada-Maru against Tokugawa Ieyasu, the very man who would unify Japan. The resilience and tactical genius he displayed in those moments have become the stuff of legend, further elevating his already mythical status.

...I can't help but feel a wiser Servant, or a better Master, would have done more to conceal the identity of a hero this famous. But even knowing his name doesn’t change much. It doesn’t grant me an easy route to exploit, or some obvious weakness to target. All it does is clarify the scale of the problem. A legendary spearmaster whose defenses once turned the tide against entire armies—and now he's here, in his homeland, fighting once more from beyond death. I fall back against Youkage's sofa, taking a deep breath as I ponder where this piece lies on the grand board of the Grail War.

“Well,” Youkage finally breaks my train of thought, offering a suggestion. “You’ve got some info now. Was he hostile?”

“No,” I respond, thinking it over. “He was more interested in the fight itself than in winning. But…” I press a fist into my forehead, straining to devise a strategy. “…It might be wise to form an alliance with him, but leaving him alive would mean fighting him later. A powerful enemy to let live is dangerous.”

“And teaming up with someone else against him only plays to his strengths,” Youkage agrees, crossing her arms. “You’d just be putting yourself at more risk. Maybe ask Berserker? He might have some legendary tactics."

"I know exactly what Berserker will recommend. Charge in and overpower—" "Pressure him into finding fortified ground," My Servant's resounding voice calls from the entranceway. "Give him land to defend. Then, besiege his fortification."

I'm speechless, for a long second. "That's...clever, Berserker, but he's an expert against sieges."

"His Master is not," He responds calmly.

A cogent observation from my oddly-canny Berserker.

"And how do we besiege a location with just you and I?" I throw a challenge back at him. Brainstorming with Berserker loosens my posture and gets my mind moving in new directions.

"We find a powerful weapon that can contest an army," he says, his voice plain with confidence. "Rider-class Servants often possess mighty steeds or armies that excel at overpowering fortifications."

"Ally with Rider...?" I muse, considering the possibility. His plan holds merit on paper. Unfortunately, Rider was among the truants absent from the opening ceremony. I don’t even know what they look like, much less what they can do—or what they'd want in return for their help.

"Maybe Rider's a step ahead of you, and already making plans for him," Youkage tosses in her thoughts as well. "Not every Servant needs to fall to your blade—so long as you're the ones left standing at the end."

Her suggestion is simple, but unquestionably true. A Master doesn’t always need to fight every battle head-on, or even fight every battle at all. Sometimes, positioning yourself for victory while others tear each other apart is the wisest move available. I have to admit, her idea is sound—though I’m still wary of relying too much on unknowns.

I look back to Berserker, standing stoically by the doorway, steady and sharp as ever. I can't tell which plan he prefers, but the idea of cooperating with another is intriguing coming from him. I run through the possibilities in my head—each more perilous than the last—before glancing back at Youkage, whose steady gaze reminds me that caution is sometimes the best strategy.

"We'll have to wait and see for now," I mutter in admission.. "No matter how I look at it, we're against an unreasonably strong foe. Knowing that is crucial, but we'll need more than just information to beat Lancer."

"Sounds fine to me. Take some time to think, tsarevna. You're not the only one making plans, don't forget," Youkage reclines in her seat, and in her tone I sense that she wants the subject to drop. I suppose we have been talking shop about matters that don't concern her.

I sit in silence for a long while, my thoughts churning over the pieces I’ve laid out. Lancer, Berserker, the potential Rider, and the march of limited time—none of them are as straightforward as I'd like. But even the most complicated scenarios can be solved. I just have to be ready for anything. Minutes pass as I stare at nothing, my lips against my fist, moving pieces around inside my head. I don’t say it aloud, I know there’s one thing I can’t afford to ignore—that these plans are the sorts other Masters are making at the same time. Fighting together, avoiding unnecessary fights, letting the others do the heavy lifting. I can't put my faith in other Masters acting exactly how I need them to.

"You’re quiet," Youkage’s voice cuts through the silence, her gaze assessing me from the couch.

"I’m thinking," The words come out sharper than intended, but it’s true. This isn’t a time for distractions. "I’ll figure this out."

"You will," she says, her tone oddly comforting, like she knows exactly what I need to hear. "But maybe take it easy for today. This whole mess just started, right?"

My blazing mind suddenly defuses. She's right. Of course, she’s absolutely right—the War started yesterday evening. Twenty-four hours haven’t even fully passed since the opening ceremony, and less still since Berserker and I made ourselves known as a threat. I can't possibly have all the information or plans I need to win yet. Taking a deep breath, I let Youkage’s words quench the burning inquiries running through my mind.

"Yes, yes," I let myself laugh a moment. "I get it, Youkage. I'll spend some time with you."

"Aww, I get the princess all to myself?" She grins, a teasing note in her voice. "I'll put on my finest petticoat."

[Fate/Destiny Shift] - Respite, New Home (Feb. 3)

—Sunlight streams through the east-facing window, creeping steadily across the bed. The growing radiance pokes holes in the comfortable darkness of sleep, needling into my eyelids. I groan and pull the blankets over my head, cocooning myself in a pocket of soft fabric and warm shadows.

It doesn’t help.

Unfortunately, I am a morning person. Once I know the sun has risen, sleep is a lost cause. I try for a minute to trick my brain into thinking it’s still night—breathing slow, staying still—but my body isn’t fooled. With a quiet sigh, I sit up in the unfamiliar bed, rubbing the heel of my palm against my eyes. The room is a blur of smudged shapes and shifting colors.

Ugh. Where are my glasses?

I slide my feet out of bed, clinging to the last of its warmth with my toes. But the moment I try to stand, my leg buckles, refusing to take my weight. There's a brief, dull moment of realization—ah, I'm falling—before I lurch sideways, grasping blindly for support. My hand finds something on the nightstand. Unfortunately, it does not support me.

A glass of water and an alarm clock hit the floor with me, shattering the morning's peace with an ungainly racket.

From the other side of the wall, a familiar voice calls out, far too amused for my liking. "Berserker! The princess is awake! Can you help her?"

There's a mortifying beat of silence, then searing, measured breath.

The bedroom door creaks open.

I do not need to look to know exactly what he sees. His Master—canny, decisive, and wise in the ways of magic and war—now tangled in a bedsheet, face-down on the floor. Clutching a silent alarm clock. With half a head of wet hair.

"...Master," Berserker intones, in that precise and deliberate way of his. "Are you hurt?"

I shoot him my most sharpened of glares—but it glances off his emotionless helmet.

...He helps me up, and brings me my glasses from a chair at my bedside. He hands me a pile of folded clothes for the day, and points me to the bathroom for my morning shower. Neither of us say a word.

And, while I have no evidence of this, I swear he was stifling a laugh at my expense.

Youkage is a bad influence on my Servant.

My shower is brief in the unfamiliar house. I don't want to impose too much, so I try to leave small footprints of my stay here. Youkage's bathroom doesn't have a mirror like mine, so I have to check myself for injuries under the running water. Nothing new or critical. The worst I've got is the ragged mark on my calf. A bullet wound is the worst I've had to date. The jagged scar makes it clear how much I made it worse in the excitement of last night.

Youkage must've been horrified. Still, it's healing well. I need to thank her again. Her magic is the reason I'm even alive right now, I think. I remember all too clearly how it felt when I passed out, the cold that washed over me...And that dream. What was that dream about—

"Tsarevna! You want hashbrowns or toast with breakfast?" Youkage knocks on the bathroom door, raising her voice above the din of the showerhead.

"—Don't worry about me, I'll have what you're having!" It's improper for a guest to make demands of a host. Her voice serves to remind me to finish my shower and get dressed for the day. I look in the small face-mirror above Youkage's sink before I finish, and make eye contact with myself. That's odd. Why am I smiling?

Like a statue, Berserker is standing guard at her front door. He's suppressing his mana usage, so you'd probably mistake him for a particularly large decorative suit of armor. A stranger seeing him would make some judgments about Youkage's taste before they assumed he was a defense mechanism.

"He's been a sweetheart all night," Youkage laughs, drawing my attention towards her and the living room table. She sets a plate of breakfast down for me—a rolled omelet, some rice, soup, coffee, and a few slices of toast. Quite a lot, if I'm honest. "Watched over you like a hawk until I told him to hold the door."

I steal another glance at him as I sit down with Youkage. That ebon statue standing guard not only watched over me the entire night, but also brought me here in the first place. He's always so serious and immovable that it's strange to imagine he'd go to Youkage first. What kind of life did he lead, for a Berserker to care this much?

He really is strange.

"Thank you, Berserker," I float my gratitude towards him. He doesn't respond. He's conserving his energy for emergencies—functionally asleep on his feet even as he watches the door. I guess even Servants get tired.

Youkage and I share a warm breakfast on a cold morning. The news on the television drones on in serious voices about a traffic accident last night caused by "a falling radio antenna", and I listen intently between mouthfuls of omelets and rice. I didn't realize how much I'd been holding my breath—but I finally let it out when they mention no serious injuries or fatalities.

"That was you, I take it?" Youkage gestures with her chopsticks across the table. She's not accusing me of anything, but noticed my reaction.

"Berserker fought Archer. A complete victory, of course," I let myself laugh a little, proud of my Servant’s abilities.

"Nice. One down, five to go," Youkage tries to share my enthusiasm. "Any ideas on what's next?"

"I wanted to research Lancer, and maybe move to take him down," Looking into that powerful spearman is going to be crucial—he’s a hurdle we’ll need to clear sooner rather than later.

"Not today you're not." Youkage cuts me off firmly. "Research if you want, but I'm not letting you get into another fight until your leg heals."

"—Youkage, you can't keep me here," I knit my brow, thinking she’s joking.

"Not me. But he can," Her chopsticks point to the looming guardian by the door. "He's on my side, you can ask him yourself."

...I huff, and stand up sharply. Marching to the door, I reach for the handle. "We're leaving, Berserker."

He sparks to life and reaches a hand out to block my passage. Stiffly breathing, his crimson gaze locks mercilessly with mine. A long few seconds hang, and I hear Youkage get up and lean on the wall to watch this play out. I can see the smarm painted all over her.

"Move," I command.

He doesn't.

"I can force you to move, Berserker," I remind.

"You can," he answers, his voice simmering as he stirs from low-energy mode.

"Are you going to make me?" My hand hovers over my heart, just a gesture, but enough to remind him of the Command Seals I’m not about to use.

"Are you?" His response knocks my threat off its feet. I seal my lips tight, suppressing a frustrated sigh. It would be absurd to waste a Seal on this. He knows that. I know that. We both know it.

I wouldn't spend a Seal just to leave this place. What would I even gain? Hunting down a foe I failed to best last night while injured?

Leaving the safety of this place?

Besides...

I glance back at Youkage, then down at the table. I haven't even finished the breakfast she made me. I can't just leave, that's rude.

...It’s the manners, of course. That’s the reason.

Youkage steps up beside me, her arm around my shoulders, guiding me back to the table without a word. As I sit down, I feel that familiar tug at the corner of my lips, a smile I try to hide. Ugh... What is this?

"Top off your coffee?" She smugly asks, having won completely.

[gojo-inabox]

screws loose (kishibe x gn!reader)

You’ve lasted 4 years in the Devil Hunting business, and that time was long enough for Kishibe and yourself to come to terms with your nonchalant feelings towards eachother.

Word Count: 3957

Warnings: Kishibe (lmfao 💀), smoking, alcohol, describing violence and fighting, slight gore (??), dead body, language slightly, kind of OOC but that’s also kind of the point idk man, kissing, weird but comfortable tension

Admittedly, you didn’t hate your job. You couldn’t.

For the most part, working as a Devil Hunter wasn’t terrible: Sure, yeah, the whole death at every corner thing was a major blow, but you didn’t mind the pay, or the people you met along the way. Sure they were short lived, but it was fine.

You could deal with it, if they died they died. If you died you died, at that point it didn't matter if you got paid - and hey, if you lived, a hefty penny was sent your way.

You could deal with the idea of death, with the idea of devils lurking every corner, your coworkers being so bittersweet and temporary.

Though, for some particular reason, for every person that died in your vicinity, it only solidified the one constant thing in your life: Kishibe, your partner.

Only Makima knows why you would get partnered with the grizzled alcoholic, but it didn't matter - he was solidified in your life the moment you were paired together at the beginning of your career as a devil hunter.

Kishibe was the one thing that never changed - alcoholic, unashamed, calm, and blunt. Even if every person around you dropped dead, even if you watched every rookie get brutally murdered by some low life devil, even if you yourself played your cards a little too wildly and didn't know if you'd come home that day - it seemed you'd always end the day parting ways with him.

The roughed up blonde wasn’t a bad person per say, he’s generally relaxed and polite, when speaking it’s obvious he has years of experience under his belt. His lack of emotion in his day to day work mildly pissed you off, but you two meant a lot to each other - you just didn’t know it.

Though most days you’d claim he went out of his way to piss you off, and that you swore you hated the man - you were mostly lying to yourself.

"This is a matter that needs to be resolved quite quickly, but also carefully. We cannot risk hitting heads with any private civilians at this time." Despite the pressure at hand, and the severity of the situation, Makimas voice was soft, and careful.

Her hands were clasped tightly on her desk, eyes barely blinked, scanning yourself for any signs of emotion. Even after working for Public Safety for 4 years now, Makima made you incredibly uneasy. The longer you found yourself alive and working here, the more often you'd be in Makimas office, you found yourself memorising her office - the lack of decorations and very subtle touches of herself.

Makima took your silence as understanding, and continued, "(Y/N), I hope you would know where your partner is? He was supposed to join us."

Of course she'd ask that. Technically - no, you didn't know where Kishibe was, but you'd take a guess. It was common for him to leave you to all the office and paperwork stuff, so he could fuck off somewhere with a bottle of booze in hand and show up later. He did it because he knew that you would handle yourself, and that he wouldn't really be reprimanded.

Simply nodding, you stood up and quickly fixed your blazer and wiped your wrinkled pants down, "I could probably guess. Don't worry about it, Makima, I can relay the information."

All she did was smile, nodding and following suit. Walking around her desk and at your side as you both walked towards the door. As she saw you out, she handed you the file, “I expect this to be taken care of before Friday, and next time, make sure Kishibe joins us.”

Nodding, you smiled and walked out, her office door closing behind you. The second you heard the click, your smile dropped, body moving down the hallway, and to the stairs. Slugging down the stairs, flipped through the file, internally cringing at the prospect of explaining the mission to Kishibe.

Once out of the building, you slouched against one of the concrete walls. The sun was almost completely gone, the night sky being illuminated by the light pollution from the city, you breathed in the crisp air. Even at night, the city was still so busy - cars driving by, people in and out of store fronts and restaurants, the noise of traffic filled the air.

It all seemed so simple, yet here you are.

The next day was rough. Getting up later than you would typically wish, it wasn’t really your style to be late, you had 20 minutes until Kishibe would pick you up so you two could deal with the problem Makima was up in arms over. Scrambling around your apartment, you tried your best to get ready in record time.

The front door knob jiggled and eventually opened, Kishibe just letting himself in - normally any other person doing this would warrant you probably killing them, and well this certainly added to the list of things Kishibe did that pissed you off, you let it be, walking right past him into your bedroom to grab your blazer.

“Ready yet?” Kishibe calmly asked, watching you scramble to slide the blazer on, all while scanning the living room for your watch.

“Yeah one sec.” Trailing off to find it, Kishibe shifted into your kitchen, rummaging through your liquor cabinet to fill up his flask . Again, another thing to add to the list, but you certainly couldn’t be bothered.

Finishing up, the pair of you headed out the door and down to his car. Kishibe had the grace to drive you basically everywhere, after 4 years it was basically his love language to say, ‘Hey I don’t hate you’, just as you let him raid your liquor cabinet as he pleases.

As both of you hopped into his car, he leaned over to pop open the glove box, pulling out two brand new cigarette boxes.

Handing you one, you smiled, “Thanks, you didn’t have to.” Kishibe didn’t say anything back. He didn’t mind. Though both of you knew you’d end up sharing a cigarette anyways.

The drive wasn’t too long; you gave Kishibe a brief overview of the situation, explaining the devil and the precautions you’d have to take to not interfere with the private sector's work.

Honestly you doubted he listened, but it was your job, so you explained anyway, “The devil has just recently appeared, he seems rather weak, it’s just he’s awfully clever. Private hunters attempted to kill it two days ago, and they’re going to try again tomorrow, so we better deal with it today.”

“Or else Makima gets pissed.” Kishibe scoffed, flicking his cigarette out of the window. The drive continued in silence.

The two of you stood on the sidewalk of a, almost, dead city street, everything was grey it seemed. Modern architecture sucked. Gazing up at the building the Public Safety Devil Hunters got a report about, it was an older office building.

The pair of you walked in, silence basking yourself and the lobby of the building. Nothing felt wrong - not yet at least - there was no signs of any disturbance in recent years. Dust was everywhere, on every surface and in the air. The wooden floors creaked with every step, you found yourself turning to the back of the receptionist desk, looking at the reminders of the past.

“When I was a kid, my dream job was actually being a receptionist.” You stated, smiling at the loose notepads and office supplies. Kishibe’s brows knitted together in confusion, you continued, “Sitting on your ass all day and writing paperwork for a decent paycheck? It sounded appealing. Then I did it while in college.”

“Didn’t work out?” Kishibe humoured you. He always did, he loved your rambling. Rounding back around the desk, the two of you turned the corner to wander down a main hallway.

The hallway was long, and dark, dust particles visible as they floated in the rays of sunlight peering through the few windows - most of which were boarded up. Despite the status as being abandoned, the halls were decently clean.

You scoffed, scanning the hallway and peering into each door you passed. “It was okay work. Money wasn't bad. I just didn’t find any thrill in doing paperwork.”

“From paperwork to devil hunting. Huh.” Kishibe chuckled, rolling your eyes as you shoved him a little.

Laughing, you continued, “You can’t act like my job now isn’t still 75% paperwork, because someone doesn’t wanna do their job.”

Kishibe let a smirk pull through, he couldn’t help that your laugh was rather contagious. It was a rather mundane and meaningless conversation, but he didn’t mind. It wasn’t often devil hunters got to have a normal conversation.

As Kishibe pondered his comeback to your comment, you both stopped dead in your tracks, feeling a presence weight on both of you. Your hand met your waist, grabbing at your weapon and holding it firmly, Kishibe doing the same.

Peering into the room you had stopped in front of, you were quick to spot a body laying in the centre of the room. It was a woman, from what you knew most likely a private devil hunter, though she was dressed in the same attire as both yourself and Kishibe.

Looking around the room for an enemy, you stepped closer to the woman. Her body was almost completely devoid of all moisture; face was ashy, lips chapped and cracking painfully, eyeballs shrivelled and almost nonexistent. Her hair was crisp, thin, and looked like it was missing in chunks.

Littered with bruises, cuts and scratches, she didn’t go down without a fight. Furrowing your brows in confusion, ‘Where is the devil, then?’ Kishibe shared your mental sentiment with his body language, staying almost completely still whilst peering around the room.

After a few moments, you felt that feeling go away. This was definitely the work of a devil, but it seemed unlikely that the devil was still here with you right now. A hand placed itself upon your shoulder, you sighed, turning to face Kishibe and hopelessly continue the survey of the building.

That wasn’t Kishibe.

Almost immediately upon turning around and coming face-to-face with some grotesque devil, you were slammed across the room, back hitting hard against the wall. The devil let out a rather annoyed giggle, trying it’s best to contain its laughter.

That shit hurt, you probably knocked through at least 5 desks, and you scrambled up out of the dent that your body had made into the wall. Kishibe hadn’t even attempted to check on you, immediately making work of fighting the devil - he knew you were fine.

It wasn’t hard for Kishibe and yourself to get into a flow while in battle, once you picked yourself up, you joined in. Kishibe and yourself taking turns at attacking the enemy, confusing it, as it didn’t know who to hit at. You both dodged its attacks, as they were rather repetitive.

You took your own turns at chopping some of the limbs of the devil off. The devil shrieked, frustrated that it was loosing this battle so quickly. It hastily picked up office furniture and flung it around, hoping it hit one of you.

Before you knew it, Kishibe grunted rather loudly, snapping your head you watch him fall down.

Shit. He got hit.

Kishibe dragged himself backwards, trying to get out of line of the devil momentarily. Panicking, you grabbed ahold of the devil and flung yourself on top of it, the devil twisted and turned, trying to throw you off as it’s now stubby limbs attempted to regenerate.

Kishibe grunted out your name, probably trying to get you to get off of the thing, but you didn’t listen, shamelessly taking hits and hitting the devil back. The devil shrieked again, very loudly, as you stabbed it in the eye with a piece of metal.

It fell to the ground as you pierced it, pushing and digging the piece deeper and deeper into the devil. It went limp, and you tumbled off of it. It was dead.

Scrambling to get up, you slugged your body towards Kishibe. He was fine, a deep cut on his arm was the worst of his injuries, the rest were a few cuts, though he would definitely be waking up with a hefty bruise on his back tomorrow, as would you.

“That was stupid of you.” He commented, accepting your hand as you pulled him off the floor. Shrugging, you lead him out of the now destroyed room. A comfortable silence is present among you two as you make your way backwards, back down the hall and eventually out of the building.

God, even after you basically saved his ass, he still irritates you sometimes.

Though sure, Kishibe never failed to piss you off with his attitude and lack of communication, in all honesty, you didn’t hate him. A rather low bar certainly, but it was remarkable. Even after 4 years, and him getting on your nerves like no one before, you didn’t mind his presence. Not just as a partner, but as a person.

Maybe it was you being content with your situation, you found yourself not minding his company. Sure he did a lot that made your head spin, but you thrived off of the little things; When you two would finish a job and get dinner after, or when you’d take turns taking swigs from his flask after a particularly irritating meeting with Makima, or when he’d listen to your ramblings about something that pissed you off at work giving rather blunt comments, taking drags from a cigarette you shared.

The past 4 years together, it wasn’t bad, honestly.

Maybe you could admit you liked Kishibe as a person. For one thing, he was definitely attractive; an older, grizzled man who had some years under his belt. And for another, his personality, albeit somewhat difficult, was rather endearing, especially when you stayed around longer than he expected, and especially when he realised you weren’t going anywhere.

Kishibe liked you too, in his own ass-backwards way - well you assumed.

"Don't make me think I wasted my time training you." The grizzled man said, taking a chug of his silver flask.

The sky was dim, oranges and pinks painting the west sky, a cascading light shifted the darkness and shadows of the buildings and street lights - the sun was setting.

The two of you had made your way to Kishibes car, calling Makima and alerting her to the elimination of the devil. Rummaging through his glove box, you pulled out a bandage to apply to Kishibes mild wound. It would do for now, you knew he wouldn’t go to the doctor until tomorrow morning.

You shrugged, rolling up his sleeve, beginning to wrap his wound, "I think at this point l've proved myself. If anything I’m starting to wonder if whoever trained you failed.”

The blonde chuckled, letting you finish the quick dressing of the cut, pulling away as you finished, screwing the lid of his flask shut tight, shoving it in his coat pocket, “How so?”

“Maybe how you never showed up to our summons to Makima? You didn’t even know why we came here.” You argued, pulling out a cigarette from your coat pocket and lighting it. Kishibe smirked slightly - he was the one who got you to start smoking, you even smoked the same brand as him.

Kishibe sighed, looking around carelessly, he honestly was surprised that you were still so serious about the job. Maybe he had worked here too long, “No, but you did, I can always count on you.”

For a split moment, you caught each other's eyes, you’d maybe even be tricked into believing he meant that. Breaking the contact, you scoffed, wiping blood off of your weapon. Kishibe leaned against his car, plucking the cigarette from your mouth and into his, taking a long drag.

You could feel him staring, wondering what could be going on in that head of his. The cigarette met your mouth again, looking up, the man was merely inches from your face, intently staring at you. “I figured it out.”

Scrunching your face and furrowing your brows, you scoffed again at the blonde, “Oh? Another drunk prophecy?”

Kishibe sighed, pulling back away from you and assuming his position leaning against his car, his eyes stared up at the sky, “You didn’t have any screws loose when I met you. I thought you’d make it a few months tops.”

“That’s awful. Thank you, I guess.” Kishibe chuckled at your response. Shuffling over to him, you assumed a position leaning against the car next to him, your bodies touched as you both stared off into the sky. His warmth was comforting, you didn’t get a lot of that in this business.

“Yeah. But you’ve stuck around. It’s been 4 years and 5 months.” Kishibe kept count, in fact, to the month. You didn’t take him too much as the sentimental type, you figured he was rather nonchalant about whether or not you stayed around - at least that’s how he typically acted. Sure he had his moments of kindness, they weren’t stereotypical, but you figured it just meant he was being civil as a co-worker.

Your silence enabled him to continue, “The devil hunters with a few screws loose stick around the longest, because devils are scared of them. But you? I didn’t really get it, to be honest.”

The sun was completely gone now, pinks and oranges had faded into the night sky. Though for the night sky, it wasn’t very dark, and you couldn’t see many stars - despite it being clear. That was the downside of being in Tokyo.

The air was crisp, and cold, you almost wanted Kishibe to take you in his arms, his warmth was tempting. The temperature always dropped this time of year, you hated it.

Kishibes point still wasn’t being made, it’s not like he had a near death experience, so you were perplexed by the sudden admission of empathy he was expressing. Maybe he just finally let the bowl overfill.

“I’m not crazy enough for you?” His eyes rolled at your comment, but he stayed silent for a moment. The air between the two of you was slightly thick, his every word was out of character and unpredictable.

Kishibe turned to you, grabbed the cigarette from your lips once again, putting them to his and taking a drag, the smoke flowing from his nostrils. “I figured it out though. You have a screw loose.”

Again, he was right up at your face, inches away. His every feature on display for you to see, his eyes were blank despite his words, the scent of alcohol filled your nose.

“Yeah? What is it?” Shakily you breathed out, heart racing at the sudden lack of space between you two. He could see it written on your face, how much this made you nervous, how you wanted this to last - you basked in the feeling and in the moment.

Flicking the cigarette aside, he continued to look down at you - it seemed he was doing the same, taking in your features. “You like me.”

It wouldn’t be far off to say your heart made a terrible halt, you honestly probably had a slight heart attack. “I mean you’re my co-worker, I kind of have to-“

“No. You like me. You find me endearing, like being around me. That’s your screw that’s loose.” Kishibe stated rather bored, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of a reaction, your silence bothered him, “Am I wrong?”

“No.”

Within a moment of uttering that, he leaned in, grabbing your jaw and pulling you further into him, finding warmth as your lips touched. Your soft lips moved effortlessly against his rather rough ones, his hand wandered from your jaw to the back of your head, the other hand at your waist, pulling your body as close to his as he could.

The warmth of your bodies combined, his rough, large hands kneaded at your waist. Soft moans were pulled from your throat as he pushed into you, your back was harshly pushed against the cold metal of his car.

The kiss was rough, it was hasty, it was sloppy. Despite this, you enjoyed every second of it. It was like you both waited your entire lives for this moment, but now that you had it, you were both utterly unsure if you’d ever have the chance again.

Placing your hands on either wait of his face, you pulled away, gasping slightly for air. His hands are still positioned at your side and the nape of your neck, caging you against the car. Once again, you two found yourselves taking in each other's features.

A part of you was still shaken from the sudden admission from Kishibe, while he didn’t admit he also felt the same, his actions spoke volumes - the other part of you was heavy, you wondered if he did this just cause he’s drunk or still riding off the adrenaline of the fight.

Kishibe could see the look in your eyes, he could practically read your mind. His grip on you loosened slightly as he sighed, nodding to himself. Letting go, he rounded to the driver's side of the car and opened the door, “Let’s get you home.”

You sighed at his statement. Nodding and rounding around to the passengers side, slipping into the seat and shutting the door. The ride was silent, there wasn’t really much tension, the both of you just seemed to be in thought.

Kishibe kissed you. And yes, you kissed him back.

Over 4 years ago you were paired with the veteran devil hunter by seemingly luck. Makima claimed she believed you two would benefit from being around each other. Whatever that meant to her, it was true.

The first year or two was tough. Kishibe was thoroughly under the impression that you would kick rocks eventually, whether you’d quit or die a meaningless death. Too stuck up, too complacent with the rules, he believed your lack of purpose and drive would surely lead you to your death.

For a while, maybe he was right.

But four years later, he stood corrected. Recently, you had reflected a lot on the past four years; You remembered the first time he realised you were sticking around, the first time you made him laugh, your first cigarette, the first time you and him got drunk, you remembered it all.

Fuck. You really did like the guy.

Pulling into the parking lot of your apartment complex, Kishibe didn’t say a word. Honestly, you didn’t know what could be going on in that head of his, maybe he regretted kissing you entirely.

But fuck, you didn’t regret kissing him back.

As a devil hunter, any day could be your last. It was one of the many cons of the job. Sometimes you ended a day surprised you even were able to make it back to your bed. So fuck it, “Hey it’s not too late, so you wanna get dinner?”

Kishibe looked at you with a rather unreadable expression, his hands still gripping the steering wheel, “You sure?”

Asking him to continue the night, it meant you were okay with what happened. You could just go inside now and forget today even happened, only speaking of today when telling Makima that the mission went successfully. The two of you would see each other tomorrow and nonchalantly discuss meaningless work things throughout the day - acting, pretending like something didn’t happen between you two.

That sounded miserable.

“Yeah,” You said, smiling at Kishibe, “Maybe you can pull another screw loose for me.”

[newtonsheffield]

And now I want to see Mary's Edwina's and Michael's reactions to the public live declaration 🥰🥰🥰

Anonymous asked:

I need eddie, mikey and mary’s reaction to Anthony’s confession.

Okay! Let's take a look at Kate and Anthony's first morning!

It had taken Kate a second to remember what had happened last night when she woke up to the sound of scratching. There had been a heavy weight over her and tiny little whines near by and as her eyes had opened to an unfamiliar room her stomach had dropped for a second before she remembered. The night had come rushing back to her in a tangle of tears and further whispered confessions as they'd fallen into bed together, the tiny puppy asleep on a little bed in the corner.

That was the whining, Kate realised, there was a tiny corgi standing on its back legs it's paws on the bed nosing at her face, the weighted blanket Anthony's body laying over her.

"Do you need to go out buddy?" Kate whispered to the puppy she'd named Newton while Anthony groaned and chuckled in her ear at the same time Newton, Kate, babe, no. But they'd settled on Newton anyway.

The puppy's little tail wagged happily, "Okay, I can... figure out the security system, probably."

She slid out from underneath Anthony who groaned sleepily trying to pull her closer, padding over to his chest of drawers for something to wear. She slid the first tshirt on she found, chuckling a little to herself when she realised it was one of his from an album that had come out a few years ago. She scooped up Newton and padded down stairs silently praying when she pushed the door open that alarms wouldn't start blaring, a sigh of relief falling from her when the morning stayed silent as she set Newton down on the small patch of grass, watching him to pad around outside.

The morning was cool, and clear, the sounds of the city the only thing breaking the quiet reverie as she looked out. It was still a little hard to believe it had happened as she made her way back inside, Newton bundled in her arms once again.

"Morning!"

Kate let out a squawk of surprise at the sound of Sophie's voice, already pottering around the kitchen with a slightly apologetic smile on her face.

"Sorry, I'm guessing Anthony didn't warn you I'd be here."

"He's um- He's still asleep." Kate said a little awkwardly taking a seat on the sofa.

"I'm really happy for you, you know." Sophie was smiling gently at her as she tugged some paperwork from the folder she'd been carrying. "You two are very sweet together."

"That my NDA?" Kate nodded at the paperwork. "So if it goes badly I can't tell everyone about the weird shit we got up to."

Sophie smirked, "That's... some photographs Anthony has to approve. Any weird sex shit is yours to yell about if you want."

A persistent buzzing rang through the room, interrupting whatever Kate had been going to say next.

"it's yours." Sophie said gently, "Something called The peanut Gallery?"

"Oh god." Kate groaned as Sophie tossed it to her, clearing her throat before she answered. "Hey guys, what's up?"

Edwina's derisive scoff cut through the morning but Michael cut her off before she could say anything.

"I don't know, Kate. What's up with you?"

Kate rolled her eyes, "I guess you've heard?"

"Kate, you're trending on Twitter." Edwina scoffed, "Which by the way is how I found out."

"That's what you're mad about isn't it?" Kate said dryly.

"Kate, this is your mother." Mary's voice clipped through the phone.

"Eddie!" Kate Gasped, "You called Mum?!"

"A man wrote a song for you, Which by the way is currently scaling the charts at an astronomic rate, declared his undying love for you and bought you a puppy. Yes, I invoked the Mary Sharma card!" Edwina replied a little indignantly.

"Technically," Kate cleared her throat, "We're coparenting Newton."

"Kate you sly dog." Michael guffawed. "I knew you were a killer, but I'm impressed. There was but one man who could rival me on the slut charts and you've tied him up so masterfully, he's now a daddy."

"Two points." Kate countered, "Anthony is still a slut I assure you, he's just monogamously so and two: He's always been a Daddy."

"Kate, darling, just reminding you I'm still on the call." Mary sighed.

"Sorry Mum."

"Oh Mary, Little Kate's spreading her wings and her-"

"Michael Stirling don't make me call your mother when I get off here."

"And her heart." Michael finished quickly. "I don't think there's any need to call Helen, thanks Mary."

"So when do we get to meet Anthony?" edwina cut across all of them impatiently. "I've got questions."

"I will organise a time for you all to interrogate my boyfriend in the near future." Kate sighed, "And you can meet your Nephew."

"I suppose that's a fair trade." Edwina agreed, "Can I at least send you some of the hilarious internet reactions I've seen re: what's being dubbed Kanthony of Kathony there seems to be some debate."

"I'll allow it. But right now I have to go."

"Get it you little sl-"

Kate cut michael when she hung up, shaking her head, casting an apologetic glance in Sophie's direction. "My sister, and Michael, and they called my Mum so that was fun."

"They seem like an... interesting bunch." Sophie chuckled.

"Yeah they-"

"Oh my god!" Anthony had burst into the room completely naked scrambling over to Kate before he wrapped his arms tightly around her. "I thought you left."

"Jesus Anthony!" Sophie squawked, "Can you put some boxers on please?!"

Kate's heart ached in her chest as she left a small kiss against his neck. "I'm not going anywhere anymore." She pulled back, pushing his hair from his eyes. "You do need to put some clothes on though."

"Yeah! Yes! And then we'll go get breakfast!" Anthony crowed grinning brightly, "You me and our dog! Very fucking domestic, I love that!"

And when Kate emerged from Anthony's flat thirty minutes later dressed in her jeans and sneakers from last night, Anthony's tour shirt tied in a knot around her waist it was difficult to care about the throng of photographers outside that Anthony waved jovially to. Because he kept his arm around her shoulder , hand splayed on her hip as she cradled Newton in her arms.

"Morning all! You remember my girl Kate right? Doesn't she look beautiful this morning?!"

And all she could do was roll her eyes at him, and then the article Edwina sent her later with Simp as her only comment

Kate Sharma takes The Boyfriend Tee to a Whole new level while Anthony B sports bites like tattoos

[suzukiblu]

I'd love to see more of Billy adopting Conner! How old is Billy here??

oh friend, this is a whole-ass twelve year-old with a twelve year-old's impulse control, and I am NOT sorry for that, hahaha.

"Technically, you do have a job," Bruce points out. Captain Marvel blinks. "You work with the League." 

"I mean, I guess," Captain Marvel says, visibly perplexed by the statement. "I don't really think of it that way. But I don't get paid for it, so it's not really . . . helpful, yeah?" 

"If your only impediment to taking the boy in is financial concerns and a lack of legal identification . . ." Bruce trails off. 

"Oh, well, yeah," Captain Marvel says, looking a bit awkward again. "I could do it if I had that stuff, but I don't even know how I could get that stuff." 

"The system does provide monthly stipends for foster parents. The League could certainly arrange something similar, especially given that you're a member and Superboy is currently both our legal and moral responsibility," Bruce says as he folds his hands on the table, his expression completely lacking in any kind of expectation or suggestion or anything more demanding than might be expected from an idle thought exercise. It is, Clark knows without doubt, a trap. "And as for any necessary paperwork or assistance in finding suitable housing, well, we could arrange something there too. The League could help you establish a residence in Fawcett City and you could foster Superboy there. If you were interested in pursuing that course of action, that is." 

Captain Marvel looks startled by the offer, and Clark expects him to immediately backtrack. Certainly wouldn't blame him for it, given the situation. Even if Superboy were a normal teenager, or even just a real one, that kind of commitment is–

"Really?!" Captain Marvel blurts excitedly, leaning forward in his seat as his face lights up in obvious delight. "That'd be great! How long do you think it'd take to set up and everything?" 

Clark . . . blinks. 

Bruce's mouth curves into the faintest trace of a smile. 

"Come see me after the meeting concludes and we'll get started," he says. 

Captain Marvel beams, and Clark feels . . . 

Not very good about himself, again.

[stahl-tier]

Sorry ro hijack, but this is actually something I've been thinking about a lot too ever since getting back into the fandom.

Basically the question I had was.... What even IS their job??? They don't seem to be doing anything in particular that is related to the typical professions in public transport, and even less so in subways. Now I'm not super knowledgeable about the American subway system in general (which I believe was the inspiration), but I think it's safe to assume that a lot of things work the same as in other places.

I've basically come to the conclusion that if one was to try and assign them a profession that at least resembles a real-world job, the closest equivalent would be attendants. I'm going purely by the portrayal of the twins in the games and additional media here and trying to find a match.

Now typically subway trains don't have those I guess, but maybe they do in Japan, or the technicalities weren't all that important, and that may have influenced the portrayal of the Subway Bosses. After all, they have been very minor side characters for the most part (sorry, as much as I enjoy them, I think it's not controversial to say that they just don't get a lot of screentime).

Attendants are the ones you'll typically see wearing fancy uniforms and interacting directly with passengers. (I am convinced the "white/grey" stripes on the Subway Bosses' uniforms were meant to represent reflective strips as seen on typical railway worker clothes btw.) It doesn't seem like the twins are doing any driving of the trains, rather there's either additional staff and/or self-driving vehicles (which is not all that uncommon in subway systems nowadays).

Especially in PLA's portrayal of Ingo he talks about safety checks, which can be something attendants need to do. Announcing that a train is departing also is a typical attendant task. Generally, from my personal experience with attendants, they are often highly extroverted and have a trained "customer service voice", including a bunch of phrases that are memorized and standardized. They also tend to be a bit strange, have to be stoic and stern, and will act drastically different when they're not around passengers (less stiff, less smooth, less any act they put on for passengers basically).

Attendants also need to have a huge extent of knowledge about the typical schedules and destinations of their trains, and there is often paperwork to do (for example they might need to read/receive technical reports about their trains, write up such reports, or write up orders for the rest of the staff in the case of unusual operating conditions).

It wouldn't be unthinkable that these two are also in some sort of leadership position at "their" subway. It's very common, here at least, that supervisors and bosses are either still actively working their "normal" profession within the railways or at least used to before being the boss became their full-time job. With how the Subway Bosses are probably also synonymous for the entire subway due to their special battle train, I think it's likely that they would also be the "faces" of it - so basically some sort of mascots. That would also make them dress/act more extravagantly than the other staff. It might also allow them to more freely schedule their own working times as they see fit. Normally, attendants will have to work shifts (day, night, weekend, holiday, some lasting 12 hours and more, etc.) and cover multiple trains per shift, but since we only see the Submas twins coming out of the woodwork in their main games whenever someone beat all the battle subway trainers, I'd guess that they're not exactly drowning in work.

Lastly there's the scenes in the anime where they are in a control room as they try to locate the rogue train (which I've mentioned before, weirdly sports an insignia that looks exactly like my country's railway's???? What does this MEAN, I need answers). They seem perfectly familiar with the control schemes, but not actively concerned with operating it on a regular basis (there's other staff present during those scenes and taking care of it, iirc). Being an attendant means you do need to be at least superficially familiar with such systems, but it is definitely not your job to operate them.

So I guess, that's the conclusion I got for now. It's obviously all headcanons and assumptions and probably no one at Gamefreak spent even half as much time thinking about it as I did, but.... I like thinking about these funky train men, I just think they're neat

I feel so bad for the twins, because i feel like with subways in general have those really busy weeks, it also has me wondering how do they handle such work? Any thoughts; headcannons maybe?

I unfortunately have little experience of daily commute in the subways or knowledge of how a subway boss's day would be like in real life. But knowing how positively and caringly they speak about their passengers and them running an attraction in the liveliest city in all of Unova, I feel they thrive in busy environments and know how to handle all kinds of people! This is pretty much their jam! Also since there are two of them, they share the workload and responsibilities and always have someone to talk to if there are any issues. While they would be excited to tackle the busy weeks as a form of challenge, they are still human. Anyone would be exhausted from being in such a busy environment for prolonged times no matter how much you love it, the sensory load will get overwhelming eventually! However, as the Battle Trains only have one or two challengers per subway car, and the subway boss always waits in the last car, I'd think they'd use that time to have a moment of peace during the rush hours, listening to the train ambience.. while preparing for the incoming battle! Battles must help them to relieve stress & keep up a good spirit! Outside work, I'd see them relax the best by spending quality time with their pokémon, like going excercising or playing outdoor games together in one of the parks in Nimbasa City in the mornings (because I imagine it's calmer in the subway before noon) to maintain strong bonds and have a healthy change of view! Most if not all their pokémon are the sort that live underground so going outside is not really necessary for them, but the subway bosses surely would surely want to keep all their skills and abilities top notch by challenging them in new ways! Because they are such workaholics absorbed in their fine-tuned system and schedules, running them precisely like gears turning inside a clockwork, it would be up to their friends to make sure they take a day off every now and then!

[michaelmilligan]

Midam week day seven: YES

“I do,” Adam said softly, watching with a soaring heart as Michael's smile got impossibly bigger.

“Then I hereby pronounce you spouses in the eyes of Heaven – and also the state of Alabama, which lets me officiate weddings with only the online application and no registration with a government office,” Gabriel declared, shutting the book in his hands.

Adam knew that it wasn't the bible or any official paperwork. Actually, he was pretty sure that it was The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, which Gabriel was apparently re-reading after getting nostalgic about J.R.R. Tolkien.

Not that it mattered. Even if Gabriel only took this half serious, and even if Raphael had stressed about the decorations the last few hours before the wedding, and even if Adam's mom was still not so sure about him marrying an archangel... This was still one of the happiest days of Adam's life.

“You can snog now or whatever,” Gabriel said, gesturing between them, and Michael stepped closer to kiss him.

They took their time. It was their first kiss as a married couple, so they were going to make it count.

Besides, it wasn't like either of them needed to breathe. Not up here in Heaven. And probably not down on Earth, either, as long as Michael was still possessing him.

At some point, though, they heard whistling – Gabriel was apparently over the whole 'gagging when they kissed' thing and was now firmly in wolf-whistling territory.

Well. It was a step forward, Adam supposed.

The far weirder thing was that Adam's mom was giggling and whispering with Gabriel. For some reason, while she was still a bit wary about Michael, she and Gabriel had hit it off really well.

In a friendly sort of way. Not in a weird way. Kate was now Michael's mother-in-law, and she would not simultaneously become his sister-in-law.

Which would then also make her Adam's sister-in-law...

Time to stop thinking.

“We should move on to refreshments,” Raphael said, still looking regal in the suit they were wearing on their vessel, but with a slight twitch to their wings.

It happened when they were stressed, Michael had told Adam quite some time ago. So while they seemed calm and collected, they were probably mentally doing the equivalent of pulling out a comically large pocket watch and lamenting that no one kept to the schedule.

“We should,” Adam agreed, which prompted Gabriel to conjure up said refreshments – champagne and an assortment of other alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages.

There wasn't really a way to get drunk in Heaven, not that archangels would even feel the effect of a few glasses, but it was nice that they still adhered to tradition.

“To the grooms,” Kate said once all their glasses were filled, and her smile was only a little crooked.

Despite her reservations, she knew that this marriage made Adam very happy, as purely symbolic as it was. So she played along, always eager to make up for lost time. (Lost in the cage, lost with both of their deaths, lost even in his childhood, when she'd barely been home. Adam had never begrudged her for working the graveyard shift, and she wasn't at fault for any of the other points, but it was nice that she now had time whenever he wanted to see her. As morbid as that was.)

Chasing all other thoughts away, Adam looked and Michael and toasted his glass at him. “To us.”

“To us,” Michael echoed softly, toasting back.

His expression was so fond, his eyes so soft, that of course Adam had to make a joke: “Guess we're a match made in Heaven now.”

Michael raised an eyebrow at him. “Technically a match made in Hell.” He hummed. “Though I guess Heaven does sound better.”

“Well, you're certainly a match,” Gabriel commented. “Right down to the identical faces!”

Kate's smile wavered a little, while Raphael sighed. It was a silly joke – Michael didn't look anything like Adam, really. Sure, his projection looked the same as him, but not his true form.

Michael just shook his head at Gabriel. “Well, why wouldn't I use my favourite face in the world?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes dramatically and mimed hanging himself, while Kate looked torn between being touched and doing the same.

“How about we cut the cake?” Raphael asked, probably thinking about the timetable again.

Adam just smiled and let them and Gabriel fuss over the cake. He would cut it together with Michael once they were done, but everything being perfect or traditional to a t was far less important to him than just being here with the ones he loved.

That alone already made this day perfect.

[tinyboxxtink]

"Black Magic" *Part 4*

Whoooooo! Okay alright here's 4, I don't know if I can get 5 up tonight but at least you'll have the whole "day". [you'll see]

YA'LL enjoy this because....it's gonna come crashing down. I'm so sorry. Maybe I should leave it here tonight. Yeah I might.

Also-- WINK! When you see it you'll know. 😉

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@omgsuperstarg

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@gibbs274

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@objection-argumentative

@aprildecker-blog

@lolliepopsicle

@madamsnape921

@stars-trash-18

Part 3

Part 5

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

“Well!” he wiped tears away from his face and then yours before he gathered up your trash and threw it away. “ I think that's quite enough of the melodramatic stories today. Now it's time to show you my favorite place,”

He took your hands and let you further deeper into the park. You had never been this deep into Central Park before you don't think you'd ever actually been in Central Park, you've just passed it. You were kind of a shit New Yorker.

“Where are we going?” You asked as he pulled you faster down some steps until you reached what you could only describe as a “Cave”.

“You'll see,” he smiled as you approached the cave. You both walked inside and before you was something you never thought you'd see.

“Oh my god…” You said breathlessly. Are those…?”

“Penguins” You heard a smile in his voice as you stared. In front of you with a long glass tank encased in the stone. It was full of happy, smiling, swimming, penguins.

“How... why….why is this here?”

“Well the zoo is right next door.” He explained. “And they accidentally made the penguin exhibit about a foot outside of the zoo's zoning area. So, while it is technically part of the Central Park Zoo, this one area is completely free to the public. It beats paying $50.” He laughed.

“Penguins are my favorite,” you said softly as you just continued to stare at them. It was true. You loved penguins since you were a little girl and you had no idea why. They were just so cute.

“Mine too,” he smiled, taking his arms and pulling you into his chest from behind. They look so happy. And they're in little tuxedos. Which I highly approve of,” He joked. You giggled in response.

“I like to come here when I've had a really long day or a really bad day in court.” He continued to explain. “And just sit here and watch them; and imagine how much more enjoyable life would be as a penguin. Look at them they're so happy and carefree, not a worry in the world.”

“God wouldn’t that be nice,” You sighed. “No rent, no bills, no annoying job.” you have laughed, giving him a nudge

“And.. They are also monogamous,” He stopped laughing and turned you to face him.

“What?” You stopped laughing as well, giving him a stunned expression.

“Did you know that when a male penguin fancies a girl penguin he will look everywhere until he finds the perfect rock or pebble as an offering to said female. And if she accepts it, then they're together until they die.”

“So.. basically like an engagement ring,” You whispered. Oh god.. what was happening?

“Yeah I guess so they get engaged and married. Without the wedding of course.” He nodded.

“Can you imagine that? I mean they’d be pretty prepared already in their little tuxedos” you laughed, hopefully trying to change the subject getting away from marriage although you didn't really know how. “Rafael…”

Okay surely even if he was under this spell, was there kind of some kind of backstory? Did he think you had been together for a very long time? There's no way he was going to propose after one day was he?

“Don't worry carino, I'm not proposing. He laughed, noticing the panic in your eyes. "I'm not that crazy.”

“Right you laughed and nodded your head. “Of course. Because we've only known each other so shortly….?” You tried to ask in a leading way.

“Right. But if we're being totally honest,” he took your hands. “I think I fell in love with you the moment you walked in the door on your first day.”

You silently gasped.. Could that be true? Was that him making that up in his head? Did he have memories before today? Did he have real memories before today? How far did this thing go? Could he actually really be saying that? Your mind started swimming.

“I..” You looked into his eyes, searching for sincerity. Obviously it was there but you didn't know if it was fabricated or real. But any real form of sincerity was moot at this point. Right?

“Really?” Was all you could say back.

“Yeah,” he smiled while he stroked your hair. “Really,”

That was it you couldn't take this anymore. You Broke down crying once again, and threw your arms around him. You were holding him so tightly, as if he was going to disappear in front of your eyes any second.

“Please Don't leave me, you sobbed. “Please don't leave me,”

“Hey hey hey,” He took your arms and pulled you over to a bench in the cave. Then he sat you down and put both hands on your shoulders.” I'm not leaving you. I'm not going anywhere, okay? Never,”

“You can't say that,” You sobbed. You completely threw any thoughts of keeping this under wraps out the window.

"Why not?” He looked at you quizzically.

“Because….because this isn't real!!” You kept sobbing.

“What…? Baby you have to calm down,” He started getting really concerned.

“I….” You tried to find the words to explain it without sounding crazy. Then you realized it didn't matter.

“I...my roommate Chloe she's a...well she, she made this...stuff, that I put in your coffee yesterday and it made you think you're in love with me.” You realized you had said explanation a little too loudly, as the very few other people that were in the cave with you gave you strange looks and started to walk away. You looked at Rafael who was just staring at you in disbelief and confusion.

“What are you talking about?” He half laughed. Baby look I don't know what you think you did. But if you're talking about what I think you're talking about--- magic isn't real.”

“Yes it is!” You continued to sob. “I didn't believe it either. That's why I did it. I thought on the off chance maybe it would work but I didn't really think it worked like this” you gestured between the two of you.

“What, make an actual connection between us? Has anything you said to me today been a lie?”

“No” You started to calm yourself down.

“And I can promise you nothing I have done today has been a lie, or fabricated in any way,” He wiped the tears from your face.

“So again, I don't know what you think you did, but my feelings for you are real. The only magic here is the magic of true love,”

“See who says that?!” you cried angrily. “Nobody says that for real, Rafael. Not unless they're--”

“Under some kind of magic spell?” Rafael asked sarcastically

“This isn't funny!”

“Okay so what you're just saying is that tomorrow I'm going to wake up, and just think you're a normal girl and what? Think today was a fluke?”

“No.. you're not going to remember anything.”

“I really doubt that,”

“It's true! Why do you think I said back at Maria’s that I need you to hold on to this day? I need you to remember this day? I wasn’t just saying that to be cute.”

“Okay well I'm taking you seriously now. I'm committing this day to my memory this entire day even with your nutty little break down here.” He took both of your shoulders and looked at you seriously.

“Because I'm going to prove to you that this is not some kind of magic spell. It's me and you and our real feelings. I told you I fell in love with you the day I met you, that was before today. That was three months ago!”

Could that be true? Could this have just fast forwarded the time that it would have taken you to get here? Is he really going to remember this?

“Okay” was all you could say.

“Okay.” He smiled, pulling you into him again and kissing your forehead while stroking your hair. “I'm never going to forget you Y/N. I could never forget you,”

“Okay,” you repeated, believing him a little more this time.

Rafael glanced at his phone. Oh God it's four fifteen already,”

“So…? Do you turn into a pumpkin at 5?” You joked.

“No but I did promise Olivia that I would drop off some paperwork. Do you mind?”

Oh God you really don't want to face Liv again, at the risk of exposing your secret. But what else could you do?

“Yeah I guess that's fine.” You shrugged.

It definitely was NOT fine.

-----

You walked into the NYPD police station nervously, as if you were a hooker doing a perp walk. You hoped that maybe since Raphael had calmed down maybe Olivia would just think this morning was a joke after all. You hoped he wouldn't say anything.

“Olivia!” He walked over to her desk and still had your hand in his.

“Hey Rafa.. what is this? I thought you weren't dating your intern?” She frowned.

“Oh I'm not ... Apparently I'm under her spell,” He laughed.

Oh my God oh my God oh my God what…. Why was he being so flippant about this? Oh God.

“...Excuse me?” She asked him seriously.

“Did you get her in on this Y/N? Pretend that she has no idea about us?” He asked you while still laughing. You wanted to crawl into a hole.

“I don't have any idea about-- didn't you say this morning that you were kidding?” Olivia looked at you angrily.

“What? I don't remember this morning.” Rafael looked confused.

Oh God maybe it was starting to wear off and then forget-me-nots were working oh God oh God oh god….

“What is wrong with you?” Olivia put both of her hands on her shoulders, then she looked at you. “Did you actually do something to him?

What? No, I didn't do anything!” You cried defensively, hoping she would back off.

“Liv back off she didn't do anything. Magic isn't real. What is wrong with you?” Rafael stood in front of you.

“Then explain how you feel right now???” Olivia crossed her arms.

“What are you talking about? We've been in love for months now!”

Oh shit. Oh GOD.WHAT?

“WHAT?” Olivia almost screamed.

"I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to overeat like this." He gave her a look.

“Oh that is bullshit.” She spat, and then looked at you over his shoulder. “You did something to him and I will damn sure figure out what it is,”

“Liv you need to seriously back off,” Rafael increased the space between the two of you.

Liv nodded, but mouthed to you over his head with a whisper. “I am going to figure out what you did and you're going to pay.”

You gulped and looked at Rafael who was still glaring at Liv. “Look Olivia, you need to get over whatever thing you have for me and just let me be happy.”

That was it! That was why she was so upset about this. She was in love with him too. Oh God. You suddenly wondered how accessible that spell that Chloe did was.

“I.. you.. we…” She stammered. “Here's your warrant,” Rafael tossed some papers at her and walked out the door with your hand in his. You looked back at Liv who was still fuming. That can't be good.

----

“Can you believe the nerve of her?” He scoffed as you walked out.

“Yeah totally,” You laughed nervously.

“I'm sorry about her. She doesn't know when to stop beating a dead horse,” He sighed.

“So you know she's had a thing for you? And you've never had a thing for her?”

“I mean there was a time when we first met that I thought maybe something could happen. But too much time has passed and I don't feel that way about her anymore, but apparently she still does.” He shook his head.

“And besides whatever feelings I thought I had for her went out the window the moment I saw

you,” he smiled, pulling you in for a kiss.

“Oh I mean since this morning,” he teased. But you knew he was right on the money.

“Haha. Can we please not joke about it?” You asked dejectedly.

“I'm sorry carino. Let's go get some dinner huh? Forget about this?”

“Yes please” You smiled.

---

He took you to his favorite restaurant Forlini’s and you two had an amazing dinner laughing, talking and discussing Broadway shows.

"Wait so you saw RENT with the ORIGINAL cast?!"

"Yeah…." He lightly chuckled. "I know, I'm super old."

"Oh I wasn't going to say that at all. I was going to say you are so lucky!!!!” You squealed.

“So you've never seen a show on Broadway?” He asked.

“Well...when I first met Chloe she was working as a PA for one of the directors of a show that had just gone to Broadway. It didn't last very long; it wasn't that great of a show. Except for the leading actor in my opinion,”

“Oh really?” he looked at you curiously. “What show?”

“It was called “Leap Of Faith”, I think? It was based on some movie about some televangelist creep con man, who fell in love with the sheriff and his heart turned to gold or some lame-ass thing like that. You rolled your eyes

“Oh really was it that bad?” he laughed.

“I mean, the songs were good and like I said the leading man Raul Esparza was amazing,” You smiled as you sipped your wine.

“Raul Esparza? You know when I was younger, people used to say that I looked like him.” He chuckled as he sipped his scotch.

“Really?? Nah I don't see it. You're way more handsome,” you smiled.

You continued to have a fabulous dinner so fun and easy, you almost forgot it was all fantasy. Before you knew it, Rafael was walking you to your door.

"Well I had a fabulous 'last’ 24 hours with you mi amor,” Rafael smiled.

“Yeah.. me too,” you said sadly.

“You sure you don't want me to come in?” He asked you with mischievous eyes.

“No, you better not.” You wanted so badly to let him, but you didn't want tomorrow to be jarring for him.

"Oh right I might wake up tomorrow and forget where I am," he teased, tickling you. You laughed while he was doing it, but the pain of really knowing he was right knocked you right back to sadness.

"Well good night beautiful. I'll see you tomorrow" He grinned.

"Yeah…." You smiled sadly thinking "not like this,”

He kissed you gently, but you pulled him in for a deep long passionate kiss, desperately memorizing every detail. His tongue, his mouth, his hands, his smell, his skin on yours.

"Wow, I should be under spells more often he chuckled. He gave you one last small kiss, and you held onto his hands.

"....Baby I'll stay if you want me to, you don't have to be so sad," He stroked your hair and gave you a reassuring smile.

"No…" you shook your head silently chastising yourself. "Let him go," you said mentally.

"No it's ok I'll see you tomorrow" you have him the bravest smile you could.

"Ok. Maybe tomorrow when you see you were being silly I'll sleep over," he winked, walking down the hall.

You slowly shut the door and fell down the floor sobbing.

Chloe came running out of her bedroom to check on you.

"Aw honey…."

"I love him Chloe,” you sobbed. “I didn't know how much or even if I really did before today but I really love him.”

“Oh honey. I can make more right now, even a bigger batch so it'll last longer!” She offered.

NO you shook your head sternly. "That's not fair to him"

"Well….it might be,” She gave you a hopeful look.

“What are you talking about?”

“Come on,” She picked you up and dragged you to her room.

She sat you on her bed as she went and pulled an ancient looking book from her shelf. You read the cover: “The Grimoire.”

“I borrowed it from my friend Maggie,” She explained. “Basically it's a master list of spells,”

“And she just let you borrow this?” You gave her a suspicious look.

“I told her it was an emergency.”

“Really?”

“Well! It was. Of the heart. She gets it she’s an empath and a romantic,” She assured you. “Anyway!” She turned to a dog eared page.

“Read” it she instructed.

You read the page: “ ‘Emotion Magnifier’....what is this?”

“It's the spell I used on Rafael.” She smiled.

“...What?”

“It wasn't really a love spell per say,”. She explained. “Those are frowned upon in the witch community. Y'know free will and all,”

“Wait so this didn't mess with his free will?”

“No ma'am! It just magnifies whatever somebody already feels. You just have to zone in on what emotion you want to draw out. So I used amorous feelings on Rafael,”

“So...that means...what exactly…?” You wanted to make sure you understood what she was saying.

“Well since he went so insane this morning, it magnified some already pretty strong feelings for you.” She smiled

“WHAT?!”

Your mind was spinning. Had he really been telling the truth about falling in love with you the moment he saw you? Has this actually just sped up the process of your relationship? Why hasn't he ever said anything? You've never really talked. How was this possible?

"So...what you're saying is…"

"He was clearly already smitten with you darling," She grinned even bigger at you.

"Oh my god….oh my god!!!!" You squealed. Maybe...maybe those feelings would be stronger than any potion, maybe he would remember today.

You went to bed that night with a hopeful heart.

-----

[dollsonmain]

Oct 3 for the first bill. ONE month since getting the care. That's for the first $7k bill.

I do kind of appreciate that there's the option to consolidate all bills within the network and set up a payment plan that I guess would just keep chipping away at it all until it's gone. That $207 was the minimum they'd let me pay on the payment plan. I was hoping to get That Guy on the hook for at least $500/month if not paying it all off at once as the bills come in. I COULD just put his CC in there without telling him but that's kind of shifty I think. Not that I don't buy shit on Amazon with his CC without telling him all the time.

$7k is slightly less than a month's wages for him. That does kind of sting. I'm looking at about $50k in the end.

I'm not going to be able to really DO anything about financial assistance for a few days I don't think. Monday I need to keep the phone free for the pre-surgery call (They're going to call me and tell me the time, previously they only gave me the date. I find this weird.), then Tuesday will be surgery day and Wednesday (and probably through Friday) recovery. I guess if the surgery is late enough in the day I can try calling financial assistance again in the morning on Tuesday.

I need to figure out whether my Medicaid application was completed and submitted (I'm sure it wasn't, I didn't sign anything, but I need to ask before going to the state's medicaid website and filling out another application.), and get some questions answered about the university's financial assistance form and how to submit bills I've already gotten to either medicaid or the assistance program.

They want a "letter of support" from whomever has been "helping you meet your daily needs" which sounds like they're looking for someone else to bill if I can't pay.

This would be so much easier for me if he had filed his taxes on time because then it would be "Of course you don't qualify for Medicaid or Financial Assistance other than the self-pay discount of 50%." and I wouldn't be having to do all this running around with paperwork while not in the best health.

He also wants me hounding the school about IEP meetings and getting Son's application packet for the technical school and I want to shake him like "Are you truly incapable of making a phone call on your lunch break while I am going through this???" He could also call the school from his workplace before starting the drive home because he gets off work at around 2:30 but he refuses.

-

It's going to be an outpatient, same-day kind of thing and I'm going to be sent home as soon as I'm awake and stable. I hope I don't have another heavy pain flare in the night like the first time, because I'm going to be suffering through it on my own without meds unless I can convince the doc to prescribe me One Really Good Pill just in case.

Boys just left for night driving practice. Guess I'll open that first bill and see how much time they give me to get it sorted.

[mxndoscyarika]

Honeydew (Marcus Pike/Moreno x OC) | Chapter 7

Summary: Erin He moves to DC after working for the FBI in Texas and runs into a hero in disguise; Marcus Moreno. Something about him is familiar, too familiar, yet different in a way that she can’t quite place. Although confused, she can’t deny her feelings for him; perhaps, after years of regret, she finally found the one.

Warnings: food/drink mention, mention of dead loved one (Marcus’s wife), brief nudity, kissing

Ao3

Honeydew masterlist

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist.

Author’s Note: Here’s the next chapter! I wanted to let them have a moment to just be together after everything that happened, and this was one (of many) of them. Enjoy!

“I just don’t understand why it’s not working. It doesn’t make sense.”

Sometimes she wondered why she had to be a supervisor that knew how to code. If she were non-technical, like many of her past managers, she could have simply told the developer to do some code reviews with his colleagues. Well, it wouldn't have been that simple either way, but at least she would get to go home.

Erin sighed and sat down by Brian’s desk. The empty coffee cups and notebook with scribbled ink was a familiar sight, though his desk did seem to be missing one crucial thing: a rubber duck. “Let’s just take a step back and go through the logic, ok? So we have that….”

She and the developer went through the specifications for the updates and the high-level implementations that needed to be done. It seemed like he managed to get most of the framework for the code set up; all that was left was, well, writing the code and making sure it was correct. However, the deadline for shipping the code was coming up in the following days, and he was still at the debugging stage.

Although it had been a while since she’d programmed anything in a work-related context, she thanked the CS gods that she still remembered enough to take on some of the debugging. Conveniently, Brian had prior commitments that night and needed to leave on time–as if an engineer’s shift was ever truly over. But while there were others who could help out, something told her that it would be faster if she did some of the debugging herself. After all, she’d just spent half an hour reasoning through the logic.

“Why don’t you finish up as much as you can, push your changes to the repo, and I’ll take a look later?” she suggested, scanning the code. At first glance it looked fine–as most code normally did–but there were obviously issues somewhere that caused all the tests to fail. “I have some other work to do, but if we can get everything ready within the next couple days I don’t think they will mind the update being slightly delayed.”

With that, Erin went back to making her rounds through the work area, picking up any stray folders and getting last-minute status updates from the others. The sky was already dark, any trace of the sun long gone. Normally she would be getting ready to leave soon, but there was more work to do ahead of the op she was leading.

Ignoring the vibrations of her phone, she made her way back to her office and set up her desk to keep working. One thing she’d learned over her years of experience as a supervisor was that an organized desk was crucial for concentration. If only other aspects of her life were as organized as her desk.

It had been days since she found out about Marcus’s secret identity, but she couldn’t help but still feel utterly stupid. She was stupid to think that she could move on. That she, for once, was enough.

The truth was that she was never enough. She wasn’t enough to bring Marcus back after his disappearance, and she wasn’t enough to make hiding his past life unbearable.

She would have been lying if she said she didn’t consider breaking things off. But at the same time, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. He said that he and Pike were the same, that everything they had was real. And if that was true, then maybe things would get better. They could try to make things work, and show up for each other. After all, wasn’t that what caused the mess anyways? Them not being there for each other at the most important moments?

Someone knocked on her door.

Erin didn’t look up from her work. “Come in.”

“Hi honey.”

This time she looked up, a small smile on her face. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at home with Missy?”

Marcus chuckled softly. “I guess I should, but my mom convinced her to stay the night so that we could have some alone time,” he explained, sitting in the chair in front of her desk. Eyes twinkling, he lifted a paper bag. “I texted you asking what you wanted for dinner but you didn’t reply, so I got your favorite.”

Now she really was smiling. “You brought canh chua? I’m sorry I didn’t reply, I’ve been running around the department trying to get everything together.”

“It’s alright; I figured you were busy, so I wanted to make sure you at least had dinner,” he said, pulling out the container of soup along with some utensils and a couple to-go bowls. “I know you love the bạc hà, so I asked for extra. They’re in one of the small containers, so we can add them in ourselves.”

“You’re too good to me.” Erin pushed her laptop to the side so he had more room to organize the slew of containers. The tamarind-flavored soup was often a treat rather than a regular meal, one that she normally savored in the cozy atmosphere of the Vietnamese restaurant. Her heart melted a little as she realized that Marcus had to have driven across town to get it from the restaurant.

“You deserve only the best.”

Some containers were filled with jasmine rice, fragrant and pillowy. Others overflowed with toppings like aromatic cilantro, spicy Thai chilis, and crisp bean sprouts. And, as promised, there was an extra container with fresh slices of bạc hà, the spongy stem of the elephant ear plant.

Her mouth watered as she helped fill the bowls with rice and soup, letting the golden broth soak into the grains. The tomatoes and pineapple chunks were perfectly cooked and plump, brightening the salty, nearly fruity, broth.

When she pushed the bowl towards Marcus he shook his head. “You eat first, Rin. You’ve had a long day. How was work?”

“Tiring,” she scoffed lightly, adding a questionable amount of chili to her bowl. The soup was still pleasantly warm when she scooped some into her mouth, the salt giving way to the fruity sourness and inferno of chilis. She moaned in satisfaction, “This is exactly why you are my favorite person in the whole world. Thank you for bringing this, brown eyes.”

He smiled softly, adding a significantly smaller amount of chili to his bowl. “Of course, honey. Just like the old times, huh?”

At that, Erin sighed. Sometimes she forgot that her memories of Marcus Pike were really of Marcus Moreno, and it still hadn’t ceased to be jarring when that realization hit. “Yeah.”

Noticing her hesitation, Marcus looked at her apologetically. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that–”

“No, it’s okay,” she interrupted, waving him off. “I just...I missed this. Us in an office sharing food in the evening. I never thought I’d ever get to experience this again, but now you’re here.”

His eyes softened and he reached over to hold her hand in his. Stroking the back of her hand softly, he said, “I know. I missed this too.” He shifted in his seat. “And I know we can’t go back to what we were before, but I don’t want you to feel like you need to separate our memories. They’re ours, honeydew. Nothing can take that away.”

“I know,” she said, eyes burning. “I’m sorry I’m not as happy–”

“It’s alright,” he interjected gently. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

And, if she would let him, he was going to spend the rest of his days showing her how much she meant to him. It was a mistake–a huge one–to hide from her for that long. If time was money, he’d cost her so much. Maybe he wouldn’t ever be able to give those years back to her, but he could make the most of their time in the present. Now he just hoped his paperwork would get approved at HQ.

“I’m just so tired,” she said quietly.

Of everything. Of being herself, and of feeling like the biggest fool in the world for not realizing the man she loved had been in her life eight years ago.

She’d long since stopped caring about what her colleagues thought, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t pride herself on her intelligence and knack for details. With everything, she wasn’t quite sure what hurt most: the blow to her pride, or the fact that Marcus had lied.

But deep down, a part of her was happy. He finally came back, and while the past was wrought with cracks, the future felt...secure. And if there was anything she knew about Marcus, it was that he wore his heart on his sleeve, and that he wanted to stay for the long run. She knew that, no matter what, he wanted to make things right.

“Why don’t we head home after this, then?” he suggested, lips quirked up in a small smile. “They can’t get too mad if the smartest woman in the bureau takes the night off.”

---

“Would you like to stay?” she asked, unlocking the door to her apartment. Marcus’s car was parked in the visitors’ parking area, and it was starting to get late. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I’d love to, if you’ll have me,” he answered, heat rushing up to his cheeks when her eyes met his. Even after all this time, he couldn’t get over the way she looked when she smiled at him like that. When she looked at him like he was everything she ever wanted.

They settled into the apartment as usual, with Erin checking on her plants and Marcus helping to plug in her laptop. Something about the way Erin moved around in the space was just...right. He’d seen her navigate government buildings and sites for operations, but at home, there was a different kind of confidence about her. It was a confidence that he knew only a select few were allowed to see.

Once they reached the bedroom, Marcus kissed her forehead and went into her bathroom. “Stay here, I’ll get a bath ready for you.”

Erin let out a huff of laughter at his eagerness, resigning to putting away her bag and changing into more comfortable clothes. As much as she loved a good suit, she also loved the warmth of sweatpants and the softness of silk. But seeing as she still needed to wash up for the night, she slipped on a silk nightgown, the hem stopping just above her knees.

Eventually, Marcus returned and led her into the bathroom, presenting her with a bathtub full of gardenia-scented bubbles and steaming water. He’d also found her electronic candles, placing them strategically so she could see in the dimmed lighting.

“It’s perfect, Marcus. Would you like to join me?” she asked, biting her lip in anticipation. The bathtub was just large enough for two people, and she wanted to know what it would feel like to be with him in her most vulnerable state. After all the secrets and waiting, she just wanted more .

He shook his head, trying to not let his mind linger too long on the way her nightgown hugged her chest like liquid gold. As much as he wanted to be with her, something told him that it wasn’t the right moment. “You’ve had to take care of yourself for so long, honey. Let me take care of you, ok?”

“But what about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.” Their lips melded together as their resolve grew strained. She tasted sweet and intoxicating, and it took all his strength to not give in. “You deserve to be treated like a queen. You’re my queen, and I want to make you feel good. Is that alright?”

She hummed softly and kissed him again. A low moan escaped her lips. “You really know how to make a woman conflicted, Marcus.”

“Sorry, it’s a bad habit.”

“I know you are. I’m just glad you’re here now,” she said. Pulling away, she stepped up next to the bathtub. Slipping the straps off her shoulders, she suggested, “If you’re not going to join me in here, why don’t you get comfortable and keep me company?”

The bath felt as amazing as it looked, the hot water melting away the tension in her muscles and the bubbles acting as a blanket to keep her modesty. Well, not that she hadn’t undressed in front of Marcus, but she wanted to keep some parts of her a surprise.

After some shy laughs, Marcus stayed by her side the entire time, sitting on the edge of the tub. It was just wide enough for him to sit comfortably, close enough that they could talk softly and he could help wash her hair. The golden glow of the candles and the warmth from the bath soothed their nerves until they were just two people in love.

Relaxed and back in her nightgown, Erin sat on her bed and checked her emails one more time. Thankfully, there weren’t any that she needed to reply to.

“Careful, hot tea incoming.”

She smiled up at Marcus, who was holding out a cup of steaming pu erh tea. Accepting it, she remarked, “I’m surprised you were able to find the tea leaves.”

“It helped that I remembered that you always have a designated cabinet.”

“I guess not that much has changed after all these years,” she said, sipping from the cup. As she did, she wondered if it was just herself that hadn’t changed.

“Dance with me?”

Her eyes widened in confusion when he broke the silence. “Hm?”

Marcus held out a hand, which she instinctively reached for. “Dance with me. Please?”

It didn’t take long for her to give in, setting the cup down on the nightstand. They swayed slowly in the bedroom, moonlight streaming in. Although there wasn’t any music, it was just what they needed. They just needed a moment in each other’s arms.

Erin’s head rested against his chest, the warmth from his body sinking into her. “I missed you so much,” she said softly.

“I missed you too.”

He missed her too.

But there was still something nagging at the back of her mind. Part of her didn’t want to disturb the peace, but she also wanted answers. Maybe it wasn’t the best time to ask him. Maybe it would undo everything. Before she could stop herself, she asked, “Can you tell me about your wife? Missy’s mom? Did she..?”

Marcus sighed softly, but not out of frustration. No, it was the kind that was borne of fondness. His arms tightened around her. “Yeah. We actually met not too long after I had my documents changed back. I didn’t want to tell her. I wanted a fresh start, but I still felt very much like Marcus Pike rather than Marcus Moreno. So, I told her about my past and we went from there.” A soft chuckle. “She was definitely shocked, but it was different because she never knew me as Pike, only Moreno.”

She wasn’t you, he wanted to say.

“I’m glad she knew,” she replied, snuggling closer to him. At least he told her, the mother of his child. It was...comforting to know that he hadn’t been all alone during those years. Eight years was a long time to keep a secret. “And what about now? Do you still feel like Marcus Pike?”

“Some days I feel more like Pike,” he admitted. “But with Missy and the Heroics, I feel like I’ve settled into being Marcus Moreno. It took a few years, but….Pike will always be a part of me. It wasn’t ever not me, just…a different side.”

“I see.” When his arms shifted, Erin clung to him tighter. “Don’t leave. Please.”

Marcus kissed her temple, his lips soft and warm. “Never again, honey. I’ll be here until you’re tired of me.”

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[senterya]

It's been an absolute joy reading people's takes on the OC interview that has been floating around recently.

The idea of a Pale Rose interview (read: Fyarh and Nym dragging ex-courtier Reln into this) sounded so oddly entertaining that I wrote it for myself for fun but it turned out... surprisingly okay? So I'm gonna leave it here.

OC Interview: Pale Rose edition

(Draw (or use an old drawing, don’t worry!) or take a screen of your character in an interview setting and make them answer the following questions!)

1. Can you introduce yourself?

Fyarh: Sure. I’m Fyarh, founder and – formally – leader of Pale Rose. I’m also the head of the Dreamers’ division in our guild. (turns to the other two) And they are Nymeleia and Reln, head of the Soundless and Courtiers, respectively.

Nymeleia: (with a wide smile) Glad to be here!

Reln: (remains silent – just nods a little)

2. What is your gender identity, orientation, and relationship status?

Fyarh: (after a few seconds of thinking) I’m male, maybe prefer others who identify as that too? Didn’t think too much about it before.

Nymeleia: I’m looking both ways. I’m female and taken, you could say.

Reln: Why is this even– (exhales) ...I’m male, I don’t care what my partner identifies as. And my relationships are not for the public to chew on.

3. Where and when were you born?

Nymeleia: Back in the Grove, all of us. I awoke at Dawn and the boys are both Night blooms.

4. What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?

Fyarh: I’m best at stealth and surprise – daggers work just fine with that. If it’s an open confrontation, I prefer a light sword that doesn’t hinder my agility. But I’m trained and still training in hand-to-hand combat too.

Nymeleia: I was trained at the Vigil to be the shield, not the spearhead of the attack. I stay behind and make sure nothing hits that shouldn’t. I utilize shades and magic so technically I don’t need a weapon – a staff or scepter can help, though. I also carry a dagger on me, just in case.

Reln: I’m best with a bow. Two-handed sword if it comes to that. But whatever does the job, really.

5. Lastly, are you happy?

Fyarh: (smiles and glances at the others) I am. I’m on the path my Wyld Hunt laid out to me and I got great allies and friends that are with me every step I take. I’m truly grateful for that.

Nymeleia: (with a soft smile) I feel like I found my calling here. I’m working on a cause and with people that are amazing. I’m pretty happy with that, yes.

(both look over to Reln)

Reln: (after a few seconds of silence, with a cynical smile) Are we just supposed to say yes or no to that? Like happiness is that easy to define. (he glances to the side for a second.) But it’s been better here. Take that as a yes.

FAMILY AND FRIENDS

1. What’s your family like? What is your relationship with them?

Fyarh: The guild is the closest I have to a family in a sense you ask. I think? I’m on good terms with everyone – luckily, I mean... (he laughs a little nervously) ...it’s as it should be.

Nymeleia: I’m with Fyarh on this one. The sylvari in Rose are the closest people to me.

Reln: It really is pointless to ask sylvari about “family” – we’re all technically related, but are strangers at the same time.

Nymeleia: (with a smile she barely tries to hide) You are dodging the question.

Reln: I’m not dodging anything, I’m being reasonable. I have close friends, and allies – call that a family, if you want to.

2. Have you ever run away from home?

Nymeleia: We’re all sort of runaways, aren’t we? (she laughs) I’m Soundless, I left the Grove quite early, then joined the Vigil. Does that count?

Fyarh: It counts. But just so that you don’t feel left out. (Nymeleia gasps and mimics trying to kick him in the shin, they both laugh. Takes them a few more seconds to get back on track.)

Fyarh: I used to sneak away a lot when I was supposed to be in lectures. I loved discovering Caledon, I knew every corner of it so well when I was a sapling. Maybe I’d still remember if I walked around.

Reln (after everyone looks at him): ...I’m from the Court. I think that’s self-explanatory.

Fyarh: But didn’t you also wander away a lot?

Reln: You could say. I preferred being alone. Hunting was a good excuse.

3. Would you consider marriage or having children?

Fyarh: In the far future, maybe? I’m still very young though, and my hands are full with my guild and my Hunt. It’s definitely not something I think about a lot.

Nymeleia: Marriage sounds cute – I like the idea of honoring commitment with a little ceremony.

Reln: Neither of those seems to be for me.

Nymeleia: (quietly) Ah, my heart.

(Reln glances at her, but doesn’t respond.)

4. Do you secretly hate one of your friends?

Fyarh and Nymeleia: No...?

Reln: (slightly annoyed) Is it even a friend if you hate them? Next question.

5. Which friend knows everything about you?

Fyarh: Maybe Daleien? We've known each other for the longest, and he was with me through thick and thin. Nowadays I share a lot with Nym and Reln too. I used to be very secretive about myself but I’m working on it.

Nymeleia: We chat and gossip a lot with Dia – she’s another Soundless from the guild. She’s lovely and so supportive, I’m really glad I have her.

Reln: I’m not the one to share everything about myself. But my second-in-command knows the most.

Nymeleia: Oh don’t listen to him. He and Lavan technically read each other’s minds – no words, just half a gesture, and they know all they need to know.

ASKED BY FANS

1. Are you literate? Have you been to school?

Fyarh: I’m literate, and I’ve been mentored as much – well, maybe a little less – than any other sylvari.

Nymeleia: I actually struggled with reading and writing for a while – I could, just not well, as I never really had to. Paperwork has been a nightmare for the first months in Rose, but by now I got the hang of it. I’ve been reading a lot of novels recently, too.

Reln: I’m literate, and was mentored like all other saplings. The latter didn’t reach its purpose, though.

2. The eeriest prediction you made that later came true?

(They all look at each other, but neither of them seems to have an answer or anything they’d be willing to share.)

3. What is something you were embarrassingly late to realize?

Fyarh: Oh. I somehow never really talked about my Wyld Hunt in.... sufficient detail to my mentors? Not before the Wardens arrested me for hiding thorn pups in a forsaken outpost. It was a real journey talking my way out from there. One of the most embarrassingly funny things that happened to me, in retrospect.

Nymeleia: I was always too caught upon not handling the concept of pain, and death, very well. I don’t regret working on it and toughening up, I just wish I had realized sooner that I should hone my strengths instead of desperately trying to “correct” what I perceive as a weakness.

Reln: ...I guess I haven’t realized soon enough what real understanding means. (he seems mildly uncomfortable by the question, and does not elaborate)

4. Do you have mental health or physical issues?

Fyarh: Fighting takes a toll on everyone, I’d say. But nothing other than that.

Nymeleia: (nodding along – her eyes wander off to the distance)

Reln: A few scars here and there. Had a lot to deal with after coming back from the heart of the jungle, but I have worked through most of those by now.

5. What is your current main goal?

Fyarh: I’m dedicating all my time to the guild. It’s been coming along so much better than what I prepared myself for, and I’m not about to waste the opportunity.

Nymeleia: I’m not satisfied with my level of skills on the field yet – I’m spending as much time on training as I can, next to Rose. There are some other necromancers in the guild with who we share our knowledge, and I have gotten some general good advice and lectures from Firstborn Trahearne himself. It’s crazy how far Fyarh’s connections go.

Reln: I’m busy training and supervising my own division. Most of us are reliable and trusting, but there are and will always be a few loose cannons I need to keep an eye out for.

CHOICES

1. Drink or food?

Fyarh: A drink, maybe? I tend to forget to eat. It’s getting on Nym’s nerves at times.

Nymeleia: Ah don’t even mention it. I’m picking food – nothing tops a good, warm meal after a long day.

Reln: Food, if I have to pick.

2. Cats or dogs?

Fyarh: I love cats. I wouldn't mind adopting one, but I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to take good care of them.

Nymeleia: Can we pick both, maybe?

Reln: (glancing at the thorn wolf lying next to him) I’m more of a dog person. But cats are good too.

3. Early bird or night owl?

Fyarh: I’m a night owl. Waking up with the rest of the guild at early hours is a nightmare for me. I tend to oversleep so much, it’s almost comical.

Nymeleia: That’s not a problem for me though. I’m up before everyone else. And so is Reln.

Reln: (nodding)

4. Optimist or pessimist?

Fyarh: Optimist.

Nymeleia: Same, some will even say naive for sure.

Reln: Middle ground. I’m more of a realist than any of the two.

5. Sassy or sarcastic?

Fyarh: Maybe... sassy? With close friends. I don’t feel like either most of the time, honestly.

Nymeleia: Would you say I’m more sassy or sarcastic?

Reln: (to her) Is that really a question?

Nymeleia: Oh entertain me.

Reln: (gestures towards her; she laughs)

HAVE YOU EVER

1. Been caught sneaking out?

Fyarh: Once, when I was sneaking out of a Court camp with two stolen thorn pups. Barely got away. Didn’t dare to show myself around there for a while.

Nymeleia: Several times. Did a lot of bathroom cleaning in the Vigil for it too.

Reln: If I was, I doubt I would be here today.

2. Broken a bone?

Fyarh: Miraculously, no. I don’t even know myself how’s that possible.

Nymeleia: My left arm. Open wound, too – wasn’t a good experience.

Reln: Nothing that a field medic couldn’t fix.

3. Received flowers?

Fyarh: If you mean it like, in a romantic way? No, not yet.

Nymeleia: I received a few, but in my experience Vigil soldiers are more of the blunt than the romantic type.

Reln: No.

Nymeleia: How dare you. I gave you potted herbs a while ago!

Fyarh: (leaning forward) Potted herbs?

Nymeleia: It’s because he takes his food back to his room all the time. And then he complains about the seasoning. Go figure!

4. Ghosted someone?

Fyarh: I did... use to run away from confrontations a lot. But people say I’ve gotten better with that too.

Nymeleia: I prefer to just tell people if I’m not interested in talking to them. As kindly as possible, of course. But I think it’s ruder to leave them hanging.

Reln: I did leave from places – the Grove, the Court – suddenly, but then again, I didn’t have many connections to either in the first place.

5. Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn’t get?

Fyarh: That happens. Easier than trying to go back to it and figure it out, takes away the flow of the conversation.

Nymeleia: Everyone does that from time to time, no?

Reln: I don’t. If someone’s not funny enough, that’s not my problem.