#Seems like there's hope for Phos for once though (finally)

[king-paimon]

Houseki no Kuni Chapter 105 Thoughts:

Hello everyone. I hope you have all been well, considering the hectic and honestly devastating month this has been for many people across the world. It's sad how awful real life can be. I'm so sorry to everyone who is affected directly and indirectly. Though words can only do so much, I sincerely hope things get better for you all.

Now then... regarding this chapter.

This was definitely a spectacle. So much happened and though we had an idea of where the chapter was going to go because of the last pages from the previous chapter, it still managed to catch me off guard. I don't think anyone saw a literal "deus ex machina" ship to appear, but at the same time... of course that would happen. Ms. Ichikawa loves pulling stunts like this. Whether it's good or not is up for debate. More on this later.

But the one thought that came to mind after reading this chapter was: "Finally." We are truly now in the final stretch of Phos's story, and I couldn't be more happier for them... BUT that feeling got muddied when I saw the bottom of the final page.

Another hiatus.

Sigh. I'll also touch on this in this post. But for now, I'll share my thoughts on this chapter with you. These posts always end up being longer than first intended so sorry in advance! As always, please feel free to share what you think on here too!

(Just so you know, I was extremely tired when I wrote this so it may be convoluted in some areas. I'll likely tidy it up later after I get some proper rest. Hope you enjoy it regardless!)

The Deus Ex Machina Ship: Why??

Was anyone else surprised that the object Brother Eyeball was carrying was a piece of Lunarian technology, that seems to only activate under the extreme heat of a sun that's about to consume the planet? I certainly didn't see it coming at all and I don't know how to feel about it at the moment.

Based on everything up until this point and Phos's comments here, it's evidently clear that Aechmea planted it there for this specific occasion. My question is why? Why did Aechmea bother in leaving this for Phos?

Perhaps Aechmea hoped Phos would take the new remnants of humanity and create a new society once again on a new planet, sort of like what Adamant did for the Lustrous. Maybe this was some twisted/backhanded way of thanking Phos and giving them another second chance of surviving? I don't know, but if it's the Lunarians' weird way of trying to save Phos, it's kind of pointless. Like Phos said, running to another planet would only be a temporary solution since everything was going to be consumed by the dying stars eventually. Even though the little rocks and Eyeball still take the ship in the end just to survive a little longer, I don't really see the point of it either.

(Edit: Made small change here and included the page that I forgot to add.)

The only reason I can come up with for this ship to being there is that Aechmea knew of another place in space that wouldn't be affected by the dying suns and he wanted Phos and their new remnants of humanity to go there. But I honestly I believe that theory fully, so I don't know.

What do you guys think? Is there a reason why the lotus flower ship was intentionally left behind, other than Ms. Haruko just wanting a reason for Phos to be along again? To me, the only thing that was clear was that this ship was left for Phos and whoever else was with them that would only activate when the planet was going to be destroyed.

But this leads me to my next questions and segment...

Burning the Bridge: Phos's Final Actions

Unlike the lotus ship, Phos's actions in this chapter did not come as a surprise to me. Phos had long accepted that they were ready to finally disappear. And before the ship, it looked like the other beings were fine with it as well.

It was only when the ship appeared that the others expressed their desire to exist just a little longer, which completely understandable and I don't fault them for feeling this way.

It's touching and sad how Phos made sure that all those beings, including the final pebble that was introduced in this chapter, made it onto the ship so they could escape while Phos choose to stay behind. More on that in the next segment.

But back to Phos and their final decision to stay behind. So, we know that the ship was intentionally left for Phos by Aechmea and the Lunarians. And though it was used in the end, Phos chose to stay. Now my question is... was Phos's final decision to stay on the planet still part of Aechmea's plan, or was it part of the Professor's plan?

I've hypothesized in an older post that I thought that while Aechmea was a frightfully powerful being who was able to predict Phos's actions and successfully manipulate them, he wasn't truly omnipresent nor omnipotent since he couldn't predict everything and there were individuals that were not totally under his control.

I want to believe that Phos's final actions fall into that category. Part of me really wants to believe that Phos not getting on the ship was a final middle finger from the Professor through Adamant to Aechmea and everything he stood for.

But then again... this could have been an outcome Aechmea expected, too. It's honestly hard to say how much of everything that had happened was still going according to Aechmea's grand plan since it wasn't made clear if Aechmea knew of this memory of the professor that Adamant held onto.

Sorry for the ramble. I'll just say that unless I'm told otherwise, I'll believe that Phos's final actions was their final act of defiance towards Aechmea, in the name of the Professor.

I can only hope that Phos will finally be at piece once that bridge is burnt to the ground.

So, now that it seems like Phos's story is going to end, albeit in several months... there are still some elements in this story that have not yet been resolved. But after re-reading this chapter, I have a theory for one of them.

The Identity of The Last Passenger of the Lotus Ship (my silly theory)

This is a silly theory I came up with to try to explain one of the last mysteries of this story. It's been proven untrue, but I still want to keep it here because I still like it and had fun coming up with it!

One plot point that many others have brought up before, that I've admittedly forgotten over and over again, are the Ice Floes. These mysterious creatures played a unique role in the beginning but had quickly lost their relevancy in the story.

Now that the planet is about to be destroyed, it seems the Ice Floes will forever lose their significance in this story, though they hadn't been relevant in a long while. Well... I have a theory and it relates to the last member of Phos's little pebble family.

In this chapter, Ms. Ichikawa made it a point to have Phos collect this one last pebble and put on the ship. Though all of the pebble beings are unique to one another, this one is the most different from all of them. For one, it's significantly smaller than the other pebbles, almost the size of a grain of rice. And unlike the others, it hasn't spoken once, though Phos could sense its very faint presence, so it is sentient to a degree.

With all of this in mind, I couldn't help but wonder why Ms. Ichikawa included this in the story now? Why did she make pages dedicated to Phos collecting this pebble right when the planet is about to die? She had to have done it for a reason, but why? Why is this teeny pebble important?

Well, here's my theory: This teeny tiny pebble is what's left of the Ice Floes.

I came up with this theory based on a few things.

My first clue is the location where it was found. Judging from the details in these pages, this tiny pebble was in the middle of a dried up ocean.

The second is the type of rock I think it is. Ms. Ichikawa incorporated a lot of rock and mineral information in this story for her characters. I'm not sure if that's the case in this instance, but please allow me to indulge in my rock nerd side for a bit. I strongly believe it is a sedimentary rock. Sedimentary rocks are formed when bits of pre-existing rocks, inorganic material, and/or bits of once organic life forms accumulate and gradually get compacted and cemented together. This type of rock is found everywhere, but especially in the ocean.

The third and most supportive piece of evidence was Phos's comments on page 16.

Phos recognizes that this pebble is similar to the other rock life forms AND it's consciousness had been there since the beginning of the earth, meaning it's much older than nearly everything on this planet, including Phos and Eyeball. To me, this cemented my theory.

Of course, this is just me guessing. And I'll admit, when I went to look up the Ice Floes again, the HnK wiki states that Eyeball and the Ice Floes are connected, so I could very much be wrong. It was still fun to theorize haha

Please tell me what you think!

Edit: Well, it looks like that theory was incorrect. Oh well! I still had fun coming up with it. Thank you @laloyoungblood for letting me know.

The End Is Near and Yet So Far...

I've said it many times before and I'll say it again: I can't wait to see how this story ends. And if the story is going to end at 108 chapters, I'd be so happy, and the ending of this chapter had me excited for the final climax of the story...

Until I saw the excerpt at the bottom of the page.

Houseki no Kuni won't be returning until the spring of 2024... And we just barely came back from the other hiatus...

Now don't get me wrong, waiting through hiatuses is nothing new for me and I'm glad more mangaka are trying to prioritize their health and happiness than trying to rush their stories because of a deadline.

But these hiatuses are a bit annoying, I'm not going to lie. If there's one thing I know I won't miss with this series, it's the many, many hiatuses Ms. Ichikawa had done.

I know it'll be okay in the end. There are more important things going on in my life now, so I know I won't dwell on it for much longer. But at the same time, I just want this story to finally cross the finish line. We're so close to the end, and yet the goal post is moved again.

I just want to see this story end soon. And I hope it'll be worth it.

Okay! That's all for now. Thank you to everyone who reads and responds to my posts. I love all your responses. I don't know how many of you will stick around when I stop doing these posts, but I'm honestly really grateful to you.

Hope the rest of the month goes well for you all! Stay safe out there.

#houseki no kuni #land of the lustrous #hnk spoilers #hnk #hnk thoughts #hnk phos #haruko ichikawa #hnk spoiler #lotl #hnk phosphophyllite #hnk theories #hnk chapter 105 #personal thoughts #hnk meta #hnk manga #hnk manga spoilers

[callsign-joyride]

Yankee Rose | J.H.S | 1.2

Summary: Getting called back to Top Gun couldn't have come at a better time for Erica "Miami" Kazansky. This was her fourth time being called back to Top Gun, and the failing marriage made her as excited as ever to go back. As one chapter ends, another one begins, but the connotation of that statement is up to interpretation.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x OC Erica "Miami" Kazansky

Content warnings: Me not knowing anything about the Navy, SMUT (this is FILTH), fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v

xii. Workin For A Livin

SERIES MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART | TAGLIST

A/N: This is the dress that I pictured Erica wearing if anyone was curious.

It took quite a bit of effort for Erica to talk Jake out of driving her to the awards ceremony. She didn’t want him to see the dress until they were there, but she also didn’t want to tell him that.

“Don’t you have to be there early for your speech?” She asked.

“Cyclone never said anything about it. We’re probably gonna be out late and I don’t want you driving if you’re gonna be tired.”

He had a point.

“I’m getting ready with Phoenix at her and Rooster’s apartment. The worst case is that I sleep on their couch if I’m too tired to make the fifteen minute drive from here to there.”

When the night for the awards ceremony rolled around, Jake walked into the bedroom right as Erica was putting the dress in a bag. He only caught a glimpse of the color, but that definitely wasn’t enough. He figured out that she didn’t want him to see the dress, but that didn’t stop him from imagining what it was going to look like. She put her bag by the door and they talked in the kitchen for a while before Phoenix came to pick her up. 

“I love you,” she said. They exchanged a quick kiss before she walked to the door.

“I love you, too. I can’t wait to see you in that dress.”

Erica chuckled before leaving the house. She was practically vibrating with excitement as she got ready with Phoenix. Bradley was in and out of the room a lot, but that was something that she was used to.

“You look nice,” he said.

“You don’t look so bad yourself.”

They ended up being late to the ceremony. Bradley insisted on taking the Bronco, which resulted in arguments from Erica and Nat. (“We’re both wearing heels and dresses, Bradshaw. I hope you’re prepared and willing to carry two women in and out of that stupid thing,” Phoenix said. She only called him Bradshaw when she was mad at him.) Even though they were running a few minutes late at that point, Bradley still decided to drive like an old man. (“I’ll strangle you if you don’t step on the gas a little more. Jesus Christ, that lady is going faster than you and she looks like she’s seventy,” Erica said.) So they were fifteen minutes late because they didn’t leave on time. Everyone was socializing when they walked in, and Erica was glad that they hadn’t missed anything important.

“Holy shit,” Fanboy said as he hit Jake’s shoulders. Jake looked up and his jaw dropped. The dress that Erica picked was perfect in every sense of the word. Of course, he thought that it would look just as good, if not, better if it was on the floor, but that was neither here nor there. He watched as Erica talked to Warlock and his son before she finally started to walk over to the table that the rest of the Dagger Squad had been sitting at.

“You look great tonight,” he whispered into her ear. She smiled and leaned into him for a bit before Cyclone got on the stage. He made a short speech thanking everyone for being there, and announced that they were going to try and make the awards part of the banquet go as fast as possible so that everyone could have fun.

The Dagger Squad got called to the stage to accept their awards and that was when Jake gave his speech. It seemed like everyone was surprised, because for once, Jake put his ego away. Other people got their awards, and it wasn’t too long before music started to play. Erica had a sip of her drink before hitting the dancefloor with Phoenix. They made sure that everyone was out of their seats by the time Let’s Groove by Earth, Wind & Fire started. (Let’s be real, you can’t not dance to that song.) Everyone was laughing by the time the song had ended. Erica went back to the table to get her drink, and a few moments passed before she felt Jake’s arms around her waist.

“Can I talk to you for a few minutes?” He whispered into her ear. She could tell by the seductive tone that he wanted to do more than talk, so she took his hand and led him to a secluded and dark corner of the large room. She was quickly pushed against the wall with Jake’s hands on her hips as he kissed her neck. 

“Okay, not that I’m complaining, but I’m sure people are wondering where we are even though we didn’t leave the room,” she said.

“Let them. Is this a new perfume?” He asked.

She nodded her head.

“You should wear it more often. I was gonna say that I think the dress would look better on the floor but, you know, we were right next to Bradley and I don’t want Cyclone and Mav to have to break up a fight.”

She chuckled before moving one of her hands down to palm him over his pants. He grunted into her ear and moved his hips forward. The moment didn’t last long before she pulled away and started to actually walk away from him.

“I gotta go talk to Cyclone,” she said.

“You’re such a tease.”

Erica did have to talk to Cyclone, but she kept the conversation short because he was with his wife and she knew that Jake was dying to get home. They barely made it to the car because they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. The drive felt like it was taking forever, but they were both getting more impatient the closer they got to the house. As they walked in, Erica took her shoes off while Jake unzipped her dress. 

She squealed as Jake carried her to the bedroom and laid her on the bed. He quickly kicked his shoes off and took off his shirt before getting on top of her and starting to kiss her. She wrapped one of her legs around his hips to pull him closer as she could feel him grind his hips into hers. She gasped when Jake moved down and removed her underwear.

“You don’t need these,” he said before throwing them somewhere behind him. In an instant, he licked a stripe up her aching cunt, causing her to moan. He was relentless as he fingered her while sucking on her clit.

“Fuck, just like that. Oh my God, Jake, I’m close,” she gasped.

“Good, cum on my fingers, baby.”

“Jake!” She yelled as she came. He slowed down and moved up to kiss her. His heart rate started to quicken as she took off his belt and unbuttoned his pants. He kicked them away and climbed back on top of her, this time so that the tip of his cock was right at her entrance.

“You ready?” He asked.

“Yeah,” she whispered. They both moaned once he was fully inside of her, and he gave her a moment to get adjusted to him. His thrusts started out slow, but they quickened once he hit her cervix.

“Hold on,” he said as he pulled out.

“What are you doing?” She asked. She gasped as he pulled her to the edge of the bed and put her legs on his shoulders. She almost screamed at the pleasure that came with the new angle.

“I’m close,” she said.

“I know.”

With that, he reached down and started rubbing fast circles on her clit. He groaned as he felt her clench around him as she came. The was what sent him over the edge as he stopped and shot hot ropes of cum inside of her. He slowly pulled out so that she could relax her legs. He laid on her chest for a few minutes to catch his breath before getting a warm washcloth to clean them both off.

“My dress!” Erica exclaimed in a fit of laughter.

“Honey, that is a fuck me dress if I’ve ever seen one. I’m sure it would be fine if we washed it.”

She chuckled and they cuddled together for a few minutes before deciding to shower. They fell asleep in each other’s arms that night.

Taglist:

@littlebadariell @cycbaby @luckyladycreator2 @idontcare-11 @blue-aconite @maverick-wingman @shawty-fenty @littlemisstopgun @rosiahills22 @katieshook02 @justanothermagicalsara @caitsymichelle13 @smoothdogsgirl @adoringsebstan @cherrycola27 @alexxavicry @mrsjaderogers @mak-32 @thefandomimagines @tallrock35 @caatheeriinee07

#jake hangman seresin #hangman x oc #jake seresin x oc #top gun maverick #top gun #erica miami kazansky #yankee rose #top gun maverick x oc #miami #kazansky oc #hangman x reader #hangman series

[sindrafalcone]

Adventures in Babysitting pt. 3

Fandom: BIGBANG/ Choi Seung Hyun x reader

Synopsis: A babysitting job turns into something unexpected…

Warnings: Fluff for now, but it will evolve into something steamier in a later chapter. You’ve been warned!

Author’s Note: It has been entirely too long since I updated this story! My apologies... But I finally think I’m un-stuck on the storyline, so hopefully I can finish it in a reasonable amount of time. Thanks for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. This story contains fictional representations of real people. None of the events are true. This is from an American standpoint, so some of the situations may not happen the same way they might in Korea. I make no money from the writing of this fictional work.

Masterlist

Part 1   Part 2

You had only made it about half a block before Seunghyun stopped dead in his tracks. When he quit moving you did as well, peering at him to see if he was okay. Between the dim city lights and his face mask you couldn't make out very much, but he was still holding on to your hand so that had to count for something. Before you could ask him what was wrong, he spoke softly. “This place that you're taking me...” his deep voice trembled a little bit. “Is it going to be very busy?”

You were a little taken aback by the clear apprehension in his voice. But then you remembered how happy he'd been when you had given him his space back at the museum. Maybe he just didn't like crowds.

“Sometimes it can be.” you admitted. “Usually around lunch time, but this late at night I doubt there's very many people in there. It's just a small Mom & Pop shop.” He seemed to take a moment to think about what you said & you patiently waited  for what he was going to say next. Perhaps he was getting cold feet about having dinner with you and just wanted to go back to the hotel instead.

“I still want to go with you.” he said, as if reading your mind. “I just... um, do you know if they have a private room?”

“Yeah...” you answered him hesitantly, not really seeing where he was going with this. “There's a medium sized room in the back of the restaurant that can be reserved for parties or large groups.”

“Do you think maybe you could call ahead and ask if we could eat in there?” Seunghyun shifted his weight back and forth from foot to foot nervously. “I'll be happy to pay extra if they want. Or if that's not available, we'll need a table in the very back, preferably as far away from other people as possible.”

You looked at him closely for a bit before taking out your phone. You decided he was being completely serious and you had the fleeting thought that he might actually have a phobia about this. “Okay... give me a minute.” you relented & you could finally see the tension in his shoulders relax as you did so. He let go of your hand so you could make the call and you found that you missed his warmth more than you wanted to admit.

Luckily for him, you were very good friends with the owners. You had been eating lunch there almost every day since you'd found the place a couple years back. The food was good and relatively cheap, especially once they had started giving you the 'family discount' even though you had tried to object. In a matter of minutes, you had secured the private room for you and Seunghyun to use. You brought up his willingness to pay a fee, but the owner just laughed at you. Telling her that you'd be there soon, you hung up only to find him looking at you anxiously.

“We can use the private room.”

“Oh, good.” he sighed, relief obvious in his voice. “That usually works out much better.”

You really wanted to question him about this whole thing, but decided that it might be better to wait until you were actually in the restaurant or maybe even back at the hotel before deciding to pry into his apparent agoraphobia. This time Seunghyun held his hand out for you to take & you stared at it in shock for a few seconds before gleefully interlacing your fingers again and setting off once more towards your destination for food.

When you rounded the corner and pulled him in the direction of the restaurant, he stopped once again.

“Pho?” he said, a curious tone to his voice. “You're taking me out for Pho?”

You turned to face him, not letting go this time. “Is that a problem?”

“No...” he smiled & you could see it in his eyes, despite the face mask he still wore. “I'm pleasantly surprised. That's all.”

“Well come on then.” you told him, playfully tugging him along towards the door. “I'm starving!”

He chuckled and the two of you tumbled into the warmth of the Pho shop holding hands, laughing and pink cheeked from the cool outside air.

“You didn't tell me it was a date!” the woman who stood at the counter exclaimed loudly. “_______! You should have warned me.”

“It isn't... we're not...” you stammered, looking down at your interlocked hands. You attempted to pull away, but Seunghyun just held tighter and chuckled louder.

“Nonsense! I know a date when I see one.” she dismissed as she motioned for the two of you to follow her to the room in the back. “I wondered why you wanted to use the party room. You should have just said, dear!”

Thankfully you noticed that the restaurant was mostly empty as she walked you through it, so there weren't very many witnesses to your embarrassment and none that you recognized.

She opened the door and gestured the two of you inside. “Here, just sit at the smaller table in the middle of the room. It will be more intimate that way.”

Beside you, Seunghyun made a small choking sound as she continued fussing. “I wish you had told me it was a date when you called. I would have set up some candles or something.”

“It's fine.” you told her, voice cracking a bit. “It'll be fine just like this.” You all but ripped your hand away from Seunghyun's and started to take off your coat, but before you made it very far you felt his hands slide over yours to remove it for you. Then he draped it carefully over a nearby empty chair before he set about sliding out of his own outerwear.

“Such a  gentleman!” the old lady exclaimed, hearts practically dancing in her eyes as she backed out of the room. “I'll be back with your drinks shortly.”

As soon as the door closed behind her, you rounded on Seunghyun and hissed. “What the hell was that?”

He held his hands up innocently, face mask still dangling from one long-fingered hand. “What?” he asked, laughing slightly, his eyes lit with mirth.

You plopped down into a chair inelegantly. “I was trying to let go of your hand and explain to her that this wasn't a date...”

“Is it not?” he interrupted, setting his mask down on top of his coat. “She's right, it does look like a date. And, you have to admit, it's slightly less awkward than the truth... that you're my babysitter.” he put a special emphasis on that last word that made you squirm in your seat a little bit.

“True...” you agreed.  “I suppose when you put it like that...”you started, but Seunghyun held his hand up to you again just as he had earlier in the evening at the hotel. And, just like before, you stopped talking.

“But that isn't what's important right now.” he told you as he pulled out a chair and sat down in the seat across from you.

“It isn't?”

“No.” he said, his face utterly serious, all traces of joking gone. “It's probably best that she thinks it's a date. But I have to tell you something before she gets back.”

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table so you could give Seunghyun your full attention. He leaned forward as well, until your faces were mere inches apart.

“___________.” he whispered your name. “I have a confession to make. I'm not...” he took a deep breath and blew it out. “I'm not who you think I am.”

“A rich, foreign guy with impeccable fashion sense who knows his wine and appreciates contemporary art?” you quirked an eyebrow at him, spilling all the details that you'd managed to piece together over the past few hours you'd spent with Seunghyun (or at least all the observations that you were willing to admit to him, anyway).

He flashed you a dangerous smile. “Well, yes... I am those things. But that's not all of who I am and you need to know the vital details before...”

The door the room slid open again, interrupting whatever Seunghyun had been about to say & he cursed quietly under his breath. You watched as he leaned back in his seat and winced, seeming to brace himself for something he knew was inevitably coming. From the pained expression on his face, it didn't look as if he expected it to be pleasant.

“I've got your usual right here. Iced Vietnamese coffee and a glass of water. I brought the same for your gentleman, I hope that's okay.” the older lady said as she bustled over towards you. “Now, do you two love birds need menus or...” her voice trailed off as she finally made it to the table and caught a clear view of Seunghyuns face, without his mask. “Oh my...” her voice faltered, the tray immediately started shaking in her hands.

“Ma'am...” Seunghyun said tightly, pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes still closed.

“Oh my goodness!” she practically yelled, her voice echoing slightly in the almost empty room. “Y- y- you're... T.O.P!” she whispered those last three letters as if they were some sort of secret.

You just looked between the two of them, completely lost as to what was going on. “Um, Mrs. Tran?” you placed a hand carefully on her arm to get her attention away from Seunghyun.

“Yes, dear?” she asked, still looking at him with sheer disbelief written all over her elderly face.

“You might want to set the tray down before you drop it.” you told her gently.

“Oh, yes... good idea.” she replied, voice weak.

She did finally manage to set the tray down on the table with a little help from you.

Seunghyun sighed, opened his eyes & smiled at the old woman. It was a polite smile, but tight. Something that someone who hadn't spent much time with him probably wouldn't notice as a fake smile, but you could see it nonetheless.

“Mrs. Tran...” he soothed, having picked up her name from when you'd said it. “Tonight, I'm not T.O.P. I'm just Seunghyun, trying to enjoy a normal date with the lovely ________,  here. I'm happy to sign as many autographs as you want and I'll even mention this restaurant on my Instagram if you'd like a boost in business. But I'd appreciate it if you could keep my visit here a secret for now. And please, no pictures.” Seunghyun gestured over to you. “I'd like to keep our date as private as possible.”

You were so confused right now, but Mrs. Tran seemed to understand what was going on. It was as if a light bulb immediately went off over the little woman's head and she smiled knowingly. “Oooohhhhh, I get it. Don't worry, you aren't the first celebrity we've had in here. It's just been a very long time and you caught me off guard, that's all. I know how to be discreet.”

“Thank you.” he said with a little bow towards her that made her giggle like a school girl and blush.

“Now that's settled...” she clapped her hands together excitedly. “Menus?”

“I think I'll trust __________ to order for both of us. She obviously knows this place quite well.” Seunghyun said with a wink in your direction.

“Um...” you faltered, still reeling from their entire conversation, not to mention the fact that he had just referred to you as 'lovely'. 'Celebrity?' you thought quickly to yourself. 'What the hell is going on here & what have I gotten myself into?!?' you cleared your throat awkwardly.

“Is there anything you don't want to eat?” you asked him. “Or are you allergic to anything?”

Seunghyun smiled. “I'm allergic to peaches & I don't eat intestines. Other than that, I'm fair game.” he said, already reaching for a glass of water from the tray.

You nodded at him at turned back to face Mrs Tran. “Just double my usual then.”

“So...” she pulled out an order pad and pen from her apron. “A double #4 and two medium # 45's?”

“Actually, make those #45's a large please. We're both kinda hungry tonight.” you said without thinking of the implications of that sentence.

“Oh, I bet you are.” she sassed under her breath as she walked away, causing Seunghyun to almost snort water out of his nose. Mrs. Tran merely hummed happily to herself as she walked out of the room. As soon as the door shut, you could hear her yelling in Vietnamese, presumably to her husband who was in the kitchen.

You briefly thought about immediately grilling Seunghyun about this whole “celebrity” business, but as you remembered the look on his face as he braced himself earlier, you paused. You never wanted to see that look from him directed at you. So instead, you settled for pouring the coffee that had just finished steeping over the ice & sweetened, condensed milk in the other glass.

“Are we going to talk about this or would you rather pretend that whole scene never happened?” you asked, not trusting yourself to look at him.

A few seconds ticked by before he answered quietly. “You'd be willing to do that? Just ignore everything she said about me?”

You shrugged, stirring your coffee to combine it with the milk. “I mean... I'll admit to being curious. But it obviously bothers you & I was just fine with not knowing before.”

Seunghyun sighed heavily before pouring his own coffee. “Right now, I'm just Seunghyun to you. A rich, foreign guy with impeccable fashion sense who knows his wine and appreciates contemporary art.” he smirked. “If I tell you everything, that changes.” he said, his voice melancholy.

“It doesn't have to.” you told him softly. “Let's try this... You tell me your secret, and I'll tell you mine.” you said, finally looking up and locking eyes with him.

That statement seemed to intrigue him and he arched an eyebrow up at you. “You have a secret double life too?”

“Saying it like that makes it sound like I'm a superhero or something.” you laughed & smacked him playfully on the arm. “But, yeah... there are things that you don't know about me yet. Maybe not as big of a bombshell as yours, but still... something that might change the way you see me too.”

“How about we wait until after dinner?” he asked tentatively.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Interrupting the conversation, Mrs. Tran came back into the private room, bringing two large bowls of pho over and deposited a plate with bean sprouts, sprigs of basil and quarters of limes on the table; along with four egg rolls and two bowls of dipping sauce.

Seunghyun inhaled deeply. The aroma of the broth and the slices of rare beef and shrimp wontons floating atop the long rice noodles making his stomach growl once again. “This smells amazing.”

Mrs. Tran just giggled at him again. “You know, I didn't even realize Bigbang was in town...” she started before he held up a finger to his lips.

“Technically, we're not.” he whispered. “We're just... having a bit of a vacation that's all. Very hush-hush.”

“Ohhhhhh.....” she nodded knowingly. “I guess everyone needs a break sometimes. Well, I will just leave you two alone. I'll be back later to check in on you.” and without another word, she was gone.

Seunghyun started plucking the basil leaves off one of the sprigs, rolling them up and then ripping them into little pieces and dropping them in his soup while you watched him, completely mesmerized by the movements of his fingers.

“I guess you've had Pho before then?” you asked, taking an egg roll from your plate before tearing it in half, dipping it into the sauce & taking a bite.  

Seunghyun nodded, “It's been a while though. So, thanks for bringing me here.” he told you sincerely, picking up an egg roll with his chopsticks and dipping it before taking his own crunchy bite.

“Show off...” you muttered, grumpily picking up your own chopsticks and spoon just to show him that you did, in fact, know how to use them.

Seunghyun merely laughed.

The two of you spent the next hour simply eating and discussing the art and artists from the museum exhibition. Conversation flowed between you effortlessly & before you knew it, Mrs. Tran was bringing in the check and fortune cookies.

Seunghyun pulled out his wallet and when you tried to object, reminded you that you'd paid for the taxi earlier. You caught a glimpse of the black card he held between his long, slender fingers & swallowed hard, nodding your head in acceptance.

You both made the decision to take the fortune cookies back to the hotel and, after Seunghyun spent some time signing the promised autographs for Mrs. Trang, you left the restaurant the same way you'd come in... laughing and holding hands.

Only this time, you were headed back to the hotel and a discussion that could possibly change everything between the two of you.

#Choi Seunghyn #T.O.P #kpop fanfic #bigbang fanfic #choi seunghyun fanfic #T.O.P fanfic #t.o.p bigbang #BIGBANG TOP

[canadian-riddler]

 ‘Burial’

 Characters: Edward Nygma, Jonathan Crane [Scriddler]

 Synopsis: He knew better than to go to his father’s funeral, but he did it anyway.

AO3 || fanfiction.net

It was sunny.

It shouldn’t have been, in Edward’s opinion.  It should have been pouring down rain, should have discouraged half these people from showing up and encouraged the other half to finish up and get inside as quickly as possible.  But it was sunny, and the sky was clear, and there were around thirty people here gathered to mourn the death of Edward’s father.

He had known about them, of course.  Had known about his father’s new wife and new sons.  One the age he had been when his mother had left, and the other the age he had been when his father had first hit him.  They were crying not because he had been terrible to them and they were thankful that he was gone, but because they missed him and wanted him to come back. All of these people, his family and his friends, felt that way.  They didn’t know because he had hidden it from them.

No one will ever mourn me like this.

It was sickening.  The priest was making a grand speech about what a great man and benefit to the community his father had been, and people were eating up the lie and shedding tears over it.  He’d been a bartender, for God’s sake.  Some of these people were just regulars.  Slinging booze was considered a ‘benefit to the community’ now?  To what community?  Alcoholics? Lonely men who had no better place to go?  Single women looking for free drinks?

It seemed to take the entire afternoon for them to get all the ceremony over with and put him in his hole in the ground.  When they finally did so, the feeling Edward had expected and been waiting for did not come. Instead he felt hollow, suddenly, as though something important had been taken from him.  It hadn’t been, of course.  He was glad that old man was finally dead.  It had taken long enough.

It was his aim to have disappeared before anyone spotted him, but it seemed he had lingered too long because his father’s widow caught sight of him as people filtered along their way. She looked as though she had seen a ghost, and Edward supposed that she had.  He turned and pushed his hands deeper into his pants pockets and did his best to pretend he was there for some other reason.  He was in the parking lot, shouting distance from his vehicular exit, when someone called a name he was not yet used to hearing: “Édouard!”

He stopped without meaning to.  The clack of high heels sounded across the asphalt but it was too late to pretend he hadn’t heard.  He was going to have to see what she wanted and extricate himself as soon as possible.

“You must be him,” the woman said in French, short of breath.  She had an accent he didn’t recognise.  “He said you might show up.  You look just like him, you know, like – “

“What do you want?” Edward snapped as he turned to face her, his enunciation still perfect Québécois.  She looked taken aback, as though she had not expected him to be so aggressive.  Or maybe seeing the near-exact facsimile of her late husband’s face on someone else was much more shocking up close. She looked down towards the purse hanging from her shoulder, digging in it with one hand.  She withdrew and held out to him an envelope which stole the breath from his lungs and replaced it with a nearly sickening tension.  All that was written upon the face was ‘Édouard’ in small black letters.  He stared at it.

“What did he tell you about me?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” she answered. “Just that… someone I wouldn’t know might show up, and I was to give this to him.”

He accepted it, turning it over as he did so.  It was sealed with no signs of tampering.  

“Who are you?” the woman asked.  Edward looked over the top of his glasses at her.

“Someone your late husband didn’t see fit to tell you about,” he answered, and resumed walking across the parking lot.  Once seated behind his steering wheel he put the envelope down on the passenger seat and pushed the key into the ignition.

He shouldn’t open it. He should just get rid of it.  It wasn’t going to say anything important. It wasn’t going to say anything he needed to read.

He couldn’t fit his finger beneath the corner of the flap with the glove on, so he took it off and laid it on the dashboard.  He slowly worked the envelope open with one finger.

He shouldn’t.  He wasn’t going to.  He leaned over and opened the glovebox and removed the lighter that was in there.  He lit it and held it to the bottom corner.  Not close enough.  He felt sick suddenly.  He wasn’t going to be able to do it.  He put the lighter down and leaned the envelope on the steering wheel and stared at his name.  His father had written it there.  His father had not tried to talk to him in such a long time.  He had to know.  He couldn’t not know.

Édouard

I suspect you will make an appearance at my funeral to make sure I am truly dead.  I trust you did not cause trouble for the invited attendees.  I think we can both agree that would be sinking rather low, even for you.

I am sure you will be relieved of the fact that you will no longer need to keep an eye on me and my doings.  We both know they were none of your business and yet you made them so anyway.  One would think you would divert your attention onto more suitable things with time, but age has not brought you any wisdom that I can tell.  From what I have seen of you on the news you seem content to revel in your strange sickness instead.  It is a shame to think upon all the things you could have been doing, but elected against in favour of… whatever that persona of yours is supposed to be.

I do not know why you did not kill me as so many of your ilk often do, but when I heard news of your disappearance I had hope you were moving away from the man you have become.  My actions may have had influence in your decisions, but they were always your decisions.  Perhaps my death will finally free you to realise that.

I do not have much confidence left in your ability to make the right choices, but at least the time remains for you to make them.  I hope that you do for your own sake.

Dad

Edward pressed his forehead to the steering wheel and cried.

He didn’t know why he was crying, or who he was crying for.  Perhaps for himself and the life that could have been.  Perhaps because, as awful as the man had been, he was still Edward’s father. Or perhaps it was the not knowing if, had he known what Edward was doing now, he would have found it in him to be proud despite everything.  When he was able he removed his handkerchief from his jacket pocket and cleaned his glasses with it, then his face.  The letter he tossed back onto the other seat, followed by the envelope.  He sat, leaned back in his chair, for a long time. When he realised what colour the sky was he blinked and turned the key.  He’d been here too long.  Even if he had only been here for as many minutes as it had taken him to park in the first place, that would have been here too long.  His father didn’t deserve this much of his time, not alive and especially not dead.

The letter seemed to have been imbued with his aura, and Edward knew that was stupid but he could feel it.  It was there. Just like that hollowness that shouldn’t be.  

He shouldn’t have opened it. He shouldn’t have gone.  He shouldn’t have.

 //

 When he got home some hours later and Jonathan asked how it had gone, Edward wordlessly put the letter into his hand and went upstairs.  He stood in the shower for a very long time.  Waiting.  He didn’t know for what.  He just felt as though he should stay there until something happened.  Something that would tell him that the world hadn’t really changed that much even when he felt as though it had been upended completely.

Eventually he got out and went into the bedroom to get dressed, finding that Jonathan was in bed.  He had been in the shower longer than he had thought. His hair was soaking his back because he had forgotten to dry it with a towel.

“If Google Translate is to be believed,” Jonathan said, “this is quite the letter.”

Edward sat down, shirtless, and took it to be put away in his bedside drawer.  Jonathan looked at him but Edward did not have any words to give him.  He didn’t have anything except a profound empty feeling he did not think anything would ever fill.  He lay down, back to Jonathan, and pulled up the blanket.  He wondered if it would ever go away.  He wondered if it was a scar or a reminder.

“You have no way of knowing what it means,” Jonathan continued.  “It could simply be a – “

“Shut up, Jonathan,” Edward said.

“Edward, I only – “

“He was my father and I’ll mourn him the way I want to.”

“… mourn him?” Jonathan repeated, his words overflowing with all the incredulity he could summon, and Edward got up to sleep on the couch.

 //

 It was sunny again today, too, the headstone now half-hidden behind flowers and little stuffed animals and a photograph depicting a family that was and was not Edward’s both at the same time.  He had been on his knees there for a while.  He should not have come today, either, but he had the right to make some sort of farewell speech too, didn’t he?  Didn’t he have the most right to that out of anyone?  The people in that picture hadn’t known his father. How many times had he sat there on the couch with his arm behind her shoulders, reaching for the means to change the channel if ever Edward appeared on the TV?  Had his sons ever dragged their feet on the way home from school in the hopes of arriving after he had already left for work?  Had he been good to them always, or had he done one unexplainedly kind thing now and again which only served to be utterly confusing in the face of the constant cruelty?  Even if he had changed, had genuinely, honestly become a better man for them, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t fair.  He was chewing his lower lip and trying to shove the rage in his chest back down with deliberate, heavy breaths.  “I never killed you,” Edward murmured, “because it would have proven that might makes right.”

The smile his father wore in the photograph seemed to burn the corner of his vision that it occupied.

“If I had killed you, you would have won.  But I suppose you won anyway because I will never have what you had.  Unlike you, I can’t bury what I’ve done and have family and friends surround me in death, oblivious to the whole of the person I was. You have a lot of gall lecturing me about choices when you chose every day to pretend to your new family that I didn’t exist.  That I don’t exist.”  There was a handful of fresh grass in between his gloved fingers.  “Well, I’m not going to tell you what I’m doing now.  You don’t deserve to know.  I no longer need your pride.”  Saying it out loud made him feel as though he had the ability to make it true. “All those final fucking words to me and you couldn’t be bothered to use a single one of them to apologise.  All I hope comes of your death is that I wake up one morning soon with the feeling I should have had all this time: relief.”

He stood up and turned around to find that his father’s widow was standing behind him, her teary eyes wide.  He wanted to ruin it for her.  He wanted to tell her in explicit detail who he was and what his father’s contributions had been towards making him that way.  He wanted her tears to be of horror as he told her that the man she had loved and borne children for and built a life alongside had lied to her in order to con himself a second chance he had not deserved.  All the words were tumbling through his mind, ordering themselves into the perfect sentences that would shatter her illusions and put the truth and meaning of her entire life into question.  One inhale would fill his lungs with them and one exhale would breathe all of them out into a torrent that she would not believe at first, but that would form infinite niggling doubts in her mind.  Eating away at her.  Leading her to look into who Edward was.  Into uncovering a truth she would not be able to hide from her children as her husband so easily had.  One breath and he could do all of that.

So he took two.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said.

 //

 Jonathan was at the kitchen table drinking coffee.  He was wearing the same clothes as yesterday and his hair had been half-combed with his fingers.  If by some wild circumstance Edward died first, Jonathan would not cry for him. He would not hold a funeral or spend too much time thinking about interpersonal regrets.  He would simply remember Edward for what he had been.  All of it.

He sat down at the table.

“That other phone has been ringing all day,” Jonathan said into his coffee, his other hand keeping his book spread open.  “I think she knows and wants a chance to head you off before you do something rash.”

Edward rubbed at a dried spot of coffee with his thumb.  It came off, but he would still have to wash the table.  “I’m not going to do anything rash.”

“What are you going to do?”

The emptiness remained, but no solution had presented itself.  “Nothing.”

When Jonathan put his empty cup down, Edward stood and brought it to the sink.  “I didn’t know when you’d be returning so supper is in the fridge,” Jonathan said.  He nodded but did not feel the slightest inclination to go looking for it.  He would go see what she wanted, and after a shower he was going to bed.  A thought gave him pause when he had one foot on the stairs.  “Jonathan.”

“Mm,” said Jonathan. Edward couldn’t tell how his attention was divided between himself and the book.

“If… I died tomorrow, would you cry for me?”

Jonathan’s browline indicated he didn’t understand the question.  “Of course I would.”

Edward’s fingers scrunched up and down the side of the bannister.  “Just a little.”

“Enough,” Jonathan said.

“Don’t do anything else.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

Edward nodded and continued upstairs.

The phone was still ringing. He sat down in his desk chair and pushed his earpiece in and answered it.  It had better be something that could wait because he was too tired to work right now.  He had not slept much last night.

“There you are,” said Barbara.

“What do you want,” Edward said.

“We heard what happened,” Barbara answered.  “We’ve rearranged some availability.  You’ve got two weeks off.”

He sat up straight.  “I don’t – “

“I knew you’d say that,” Barbara interrupted.  “Look. I know you didn’t like your dad. But you went to his funeral.  Even if you don’t want time to work that out, I’m giving it to you anyway.  I don’t care what you do with it.  Just take it.”

Edward stared at the wall until he remembered he had to respond to that.  “I’m not going to do anything.”

“If I thought you would,” Barbara said, “we wouldn’t be talking right now.  I’m just trying to be nice.  Okay?”

“Thanks, Barbara,” he murmured, and she told him goodbye and hung up.

When Jonathan came upstairs he was still in his office, having gotten distracted by a spate of messages he’d received since last he’d checked them.  The most distressing of them all he had left for last, and was still staring at it as Jonathan stood behind him.  “She sent you a friend request,” he said after a minute. Hearing it said out loud didn’t help his indecision.

“What should I do?”

Jonathan leaned on the chair and Edward heard the clink of him pushing up his glasses.  “She thinks she wants to know,” he answered finally. “But she doesn’t.”

Edward nodded and deleted the request.  “They cleared my schedule for the next two weeks,” he said, rotating the chair ninety degrees to the left.  “If there was anything you wanted to do.”

Jonathan frowned at the desk.  “We should go camping,” he said.  Edward was a little taken aback.

“Camping?”

“Yes,” Jonathan said, standing up straight again.

“I’ve never gone before.”

“Me neither,” said Jonathan, “but things are so easy nowadays an idiot could probably figure it out.”

Edward tapped one finger on the desk.  “I’ll have to figure out what we’ll need, but… sure.  Let’s go camping.”

“Are you coming to bed?”

He shook his head.  “I need to shower.”

“Hurry up,” Jonathan said. “You know how you get when it’s past your bedtime.”

He wished he had a response to that, but… he was right.

 //

 He was ready about an hour later, which was cutting it close, and at Jonathan’s behest Edward lay held to his right side with one thin arm.  The hollowness was still achingly present and he stared at the barely visible curtains shielding the windows.

“Don’t mourn him, Eddie,” Jonathan murmured.  He always somehow knew what Edward was thinking.  “Mourn the part of yourself he took from you.”

“I don’t want to,” said Edward.  Jonathan’s long fingers were in his hair.

“I understand,” Jonathan said.  “Your mind needs some time to accept that it’s finally over.”

That thought was… terrifying.  He had spent so many years harbouring so much anger and frustration and resentment and now the cause of it was gone.  Forever. The emptiness seemed to increase and the arm he had across Jonathan’s stomach tightened against it.

“When we go camping,” Jonathan continued as though he hadn’t noticed, “might I use the letter as kindling?”

“You know how to start a fire?”

“Oh yes,” Jonathan answered, scratching his nose with his free hand.  “I used to do it with a knife and a rock.  It’s extremely sexy, I assure you.”

“Can you still do it?” Edward asked, fascinated by this new development.  Jonathan shrugged.

“You should probably bring some matches just in case.  My hands aren’t as steady as they once were.”

Edward gave a pat to the place his palm currently rested, which was still Jonathan’s stomach.  “We wouldn’t want you cutting yourself open.”

Jonathan slid his fingers between Edward’s.  “That’s what the first aid kit you’ll be bringing is for.”

“Burn it,” Edward said after there had been silence between them for a minute.  The gentle squeeze Jonathan gave to his shoulder may have caused the emptiness to fade, just a little bit.

“If you choose to change your mind, you can.”

“No.  Don’t let me.”

There were a lot of things his father had had that Edward never would.  But he had never had Edward himself, and once enough time had passed he would be able to appreciate and understand that had always been to his own benefit. For now he would wait and try to think about other things.  More important things.  Like Jonathan’s endlessly cold feet pressed against his shins.  “Did you pull up my pantlegs with your toes again?” he demanded.

“I think they were already like that.”

“I don’t think so,” Edward said, attempting to yank them back down with his own toes, but Jonathan’s feet were simply too large for him to be successful.  He crossed his arms and sighed through his nose and Jonathan laughed.

“Go to sleep and you won’t even notice.”

“I’m supposed to fall asleep with your gigantic icy feet crammed up my pants?”

“You’ve actually proven yourself to be quite good at it,” Jonathan said with gentle amusement, and even though it wasn’t really a compliment it still took the edge off his annoyance.  He settled himself into Jonathan’s side again and Jonathan pressed his dry lips into Edward’s brow.  “Don’t go running off in the morning,” he murmured there.  “Having me worry about you three days in a row would be going too far.”

“It may turn out that you’ll wish I’d left.”

“Maybe,” Jonathan said. “Or maybe I don’t mind helping you as much as you think I do.”

He would ask Jonathan about the emptiness tomorrow.  He must know some way of dealing with it, or what it meant.  He found himself smiling a little.

“He wrote me the letter because he didn’t know I had you,” he said, and Jonathan laughed through his nose and slid his hand up and down Edward’s arm.

“Good,” was all he said, and without asking he knew that in Jonathan’s opinion Edward had won after all.  It was an opinion he fully intended to share one day.  

#there are no tags on AO3 because I hate tags and never know what to put #Riddler #Scarecrow #Scriddler #fanfic from Indy

[squeeneyart]

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 19

AO3

Beta reader is @thesnadger​!

Social interaction has its pros and cons.

Martin considers a way to pass the time.

Technically, there was no call that night.

Martin had had months to familiarize himself with the strange predawn that added a little color to the sky each morning. His home was on the western coast, so of course he didn’t see much of it until he’d made the trek uphill. With some cloud cover and dense fog, though, the light would scatter and cast a cold blanket of grey light over his corner of the world.

Early on he found it sort of nice, seeing the world ‘wake up’. He’d even started to get up earlier than necessary, just to make himself some tea and look out the window for signs of birds or other creatures who made their lives at dawn and dusk. There were some lines of poetry about it somewhere in his notebook, something about the magic of a quiet morning in solitude.

He’d lasted about a week with that. Turned out his life was already quiet and full enough of contemplative solitude, and warm blankets were much better than cold kitchen tile against his feet.

It was during this little sliver of morning when his mobile, vibrating against the wood of his bedside table, dragged him back to consciousness. 

“No…” he groaned, nuzzling into his pillow. It could only be one person. “Don’t make me come in early. Don’t make me come in early, you prick-” 

He reached over (god it was cold) and grabbed the offending object, keeping as much of himself under the blankets as possible and slipping the mobile back under with him. The screen was bright and painful in his cozy darkness. His eyes adjusted, and on his lockscreen the time read 4:06 a.m.

Before he could convince himself to let the damned thing ring itself out, he glanced at the caller ID. If anything it should’ve given him even more reason to let the call go, but Martin’s finger was already pressing the answer button. 

Attempting to whisper, his voice came out rough and croaky. “Jon?”

“Martin. Glad you’re still up,” Jon said in that distant way of someone paying attention to another task entirely. Keyboard clicks could be heard in the background. “How are you doing?”

Still up? Bleary and confused, Martin replied as if he’d just run into Jon at the store, “Fine, I guess? How are you?”

“I’ve successfully whittled down my assignments enough to have personal research opportunities.” There was a weary but nevertheless triumphant edge to his words. “If this is some sort of test of my abilities, I’d say I deserve a raise.”

“Impressive,” Martin yawned. “Does that mean anything for me, or…”

“No, not yet.” He could feel Jon deflate on the other end. “I’ve only just started looking, and Elias is still acting rather blasé about what we found. I hadn’t pegged him as the type to put business relations over the mission statement, but if that’s the case then-”

“Why send you out here?” 

“Precisely.” Jon clicked his tongue. “So I’m going to pry in that direction while digging through old reports. I assume the others will do the same once they’re caught up.”

Well, progress was as good as anything to wake up to. He reluctantly pulled the blankets from over his head and peeked out at his window. The frost was just visible at the edges, its frigid hands creeping across the glass. Perhaps a little while longer under the covers.

“Anyway, I’m glad I caught you,” Jon continued, filling the space Martin had left empty. The keyboard taps had ceased. “I’d decided to give you some breathing room, but you were quiet during the call with everyone and I thought- well, I wanted to make sure you were okay. As much as can be expected.” 

A small, halfhearted smile found its way onto Martin’s face. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“So… are you okay? I know you said you were, but it sounded like you were being polite.”

Martin looked up at his ceiling. “I mean I was being polite, but… Yeah, I’m okay. As much as can be expected, like you said, but okay.” 

“Hm.”

“Hm?”

“What? Nothing, it’s good. I’m gl- I’m happy that you’re… doing okay.” Midway between this thought, Jon seemed to switch the mobile from one ear to the other. “If you aren’t, I just hope you know that you can tell me if something is going on. Sometimes there are emotional aspects that contribute to an event-”

As Jon spoke at length, Martin noticed a distinct tumbling feel in the way Jon spoke, like his thoughts were coming faster than his mouth could follow. Not alcohol, surely? No, a different idea had been bothering Martin since Jon had first called.

“-can’t speak for Tim or Sasha about hours, and if you’d rather just talk one-on-one, I’m sure-”

“Right, hours. Jon, I don’t mean to pry, but have you slept at all?”

The stream of consciousness halted in its tracks. “What?”

“You seem a bit… out of it? Have you checked the time recently?”

A moment passed. Then another. Then- “That can’t be right.”

Weakly, Martin replied, “Good morning to you, too.”

“I-” Jon began. He then made a small, irritated noise. “I woke you up.”

Martin ran a hand over his face and pressed it to his upturned mouth. Into it he mumbled, “You really need to sleep.”

As if the hours had finally come crashing down upon him, Jon’s voice dropped low and soft and properly tired. “I could’ve sworn it was earlier.” 

“I mean, in a sense-” 

“You know what I mean.” A yawn finally broke through, but he fought it back down. “I hope it wasn’t too much earlier than your normal wake-up time?”

“Nah. You’ve seen how early my day starts. Besides, my alarm isn’t the most pleasant thing to wake up to, and you could’ve been Peter calling me in early.” It was like getting up to enjoy the morning, but he was still in bed and someone else was there (sort of). As far as he was concerned, the pros outweighed the cons. 

“Then I’ll hold my apology for a later date, if you don’t mind.” He spoke bluntly, but possibly in a way that was meant to be funny. Martin was still working out when Jon was being blunt in a rude way or in a friendly way, and his gut pushed him toward the latter. “I also won’t apologize for my work ethic. I work better at night, without distractions or other people.”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Martin asked, “Okay, I can play along with that, but when do you sleep?”

“We have a cot.”

Martin scoffed. “What, at work?” An image of the three researchers finding different corners in some dark back room to snooze on company time was almost too much.

“Working after-hours is implied in the description of any academic job. If we didn’t steal some of the day back to sleep, we’d all have dropped dead by now.” For a moment his voice strained as if he was stretching, dipping into the background before returning to normal. “Though this past week has been a bit more extreme due to circumstances. I’m not always up until dawn, calling people in a stupor.”

“First time for everything?” Martin said helpfully, pushing down weakly against the rising guilt. “I know it’s a bad situation, but I’m sorry you all have to work so hard.”

“No need for that. I can choose to sacrifice a few nights for something important.” 

Slowly, very slowly, Martin pressed his burning face into his pillow. Maybe it was too early for him after all, to handle anything approaching concern. The heat was surely enough to melt the ice right off the window. Ignoring the ridiculous reaction happening in his cheeks, he turned his face back upwards and mumbled, “Thanks.”

There was a small rustling of papers. With the same damned softness, Jon continued, “I’m sure Tim and Sasha would say the same.”

A quiet thing clung deep in Martin’s throat, and in his nose, and he imagined a version of himself from the night before, scared and powerless and ready to dump any and all his feelings on the first person who would speak with him. Would that have been something Jon was prepared for, if he’d called at a sensible hour? Or if Martin had called first? But it was nearly morning, and he was well rested, and eventually the thought fell away in his wakefulness. 

Without a response to go on, Jon said, "I’m not going to be as… outwardly optimistic as before, but…”

“You’re making progress,” Martin finished, coughing lightly. “I know. I’ll be patient, and careful. It’s hard after the weird stuff we did last week, though.”

“I’d like to say it was all due to extreme circumstances, but we are just like this.” 

“There go my hopes of you all getting proper rest when this is over.”

“S’not impossible, but terribly unlikely.”

Martin sighed, checking his screen clock again. Still some time left. “Is it safe to assume you won’t be sleeping at this point?” 

“Won’t be long until I can go to the archives. I’ll wait until then and avoid being groggy on public transit.” A pause. “Also my last energy drink is still working.”

“Mm.” Letting his forearm fall across his eyes, Martin gave up that particular battle. “Anything new set off your ‘fake’ alarms recently?”

“You’re in luck. Just yesterday a man came in to tell me about his experience with ‘spy birds’ that even you can’t devil’s-advocate your way through.”

“I’ll be the judge.”

It was a tough sell, even for Martin whose own situation made a lot of things seem possible. Midway through he even began to resent the person for wasting time better spent solving Martin’s problems, but that was an emotional rabbit hole for another time. By the end he had to concede that it was more of a conspiracy than a supernatural encounter, if they were going to get into the semantics of it. Still, Jon made it easy to be contrarian.

“When we’re not busy with all this,” Jon said, accepting that Martin wasn’t yet ready to forgo the benefit of the doubt, “I’ll be happy to sit outside and film birds all day for the sake of science, but the man finds perfectly normal birds unsettling.”

With a silly kind of bullheadedness, Martin replied, “Plenty of seabirds around here. Maybe that’s what I’ll do while I wait for something to happen.”

Jon snorted. “I expect a full report by Monday.”

Before Martin could respond, his phone made an all too familiar and dreadful noise. He really should’ve picked a song or something, he thought as he dismissed his alarm. “Well, it’s that time.”

“Yes, I should be getting along with my morning as well. Good luck with your birdwatching,” he said with joking scorn.

“Have fun sleeping on the bus.”

“Ha ha. Goodbye, Martin.”

“Bye.” 

Dropping his arm onto the bed, mobile in hand, Martin ignored the numbness in his fingers and considered how invested he was in writing a fake report about birds just to see the reaction it would get. Maybe he would text Tim about it.

The idea sat in the back of his mind as he got dressed, as he made breakfast, as he put on his shoes and coat and hat. When he opened the door to meet the cold that had settled in overnight, he couldn’t help but wince at the extra bit of sting the wind delivered, but he clung to his fanciful little idea all the way up the hills and through town. 

Creative writing had never been his strong suit. It was debatable if poetry was, but he’d reached a point where it was more of a comforting activity than a skill. Still, as he got to work in the blessedly empty lighthouse, he thought of the little notebook he’d stashed into his bag. If it all came to nothing, he could end up with scraps of text to rearrange into poetry someday.

It was a mess of a book. Technically bound, it was still cheap with some pages starting to come loose from his handling. He’d long ago given up on the idea of a nice looking notebook, especially as it had become personal enough to count as horribly embarrassing. It was inevitable for any poetry notebook of his to become more akin to a scattered, flowery journal of sorts, and this one was no different. 

It was also a step up from previous ones in that it wasn’t some spiral-bound school notebook he’d found in the discount section of the general store. No, he had found it in a bookstore discount section. The stiff cover even had sort of a nice texture before he’d beaten it up by shoving it into a drawer a million times.

The day crawled by with no interruptions, leaving Martin on edge. Peter hadn’t come by once. Perhaps he’d assumed Martin had had any boldness scared out of him, an aggravating thought. He had the will to act. He also had some amount of self preservation left in him, that was all.

By lunchtime he was itching to talk to anyone, but texting the others was off limits and it was so dreary outside that going out to eat was a non-starter. He supposed he could stop by the grocery store. He knew some of the people from when he’d worked there. Most of the ones he’d worked with had also left, but maybe…

No, that was a stupid idea. He wasn’t seeing anyone unless they came to him.

No one did.

So in his time off the clock, he stared at his little notebook and hoped his brain would think of anything to say.

--

The weather had taken a more miserable turn by the time he’d left work in the evening. He only saw a few birds struggling in the gales, none of them particularly watchful. If he had to guess, they didn’t care much about what anyone was doing. Not great material for a report, but maybe for a poem when the feeling hit.

The streets were largely empty as people avoided the high winds and mist that sprayed against Martin’s glasses, making it a challenge to see anything around him. He had half a mind to just stow them away, but there was going to be water in his eyes no matter what he chose to do. Just another little thing to make his day worse that he couldn’t change.

Part of him considered that the weather often matched his mood, but it wasn’t hard for bad weather to pair with sour thoughts. Nearly all weather was bad and nearly all moods were sour. Correlation, etcetera.

As much as he’d wanted to check his phone as soon as work was over, the others could wait until he’d stopped feeling so damned sorry for himself.

And he did feel awful, though there was no inciting incident. It had been a long, tedious day where the words wouldn’t flow, the world was grey, and any residual happiness from his conversation with Jon had been slowly eaten away by the loneliness of the present. Why was it so hard to hold onto those good things? A good start was supposed to make the day better, not make the rest of the day look worse.

It had to be everything at the lighthouse. He’d always been moody as a person, but the stress had to be getting to him. His head shouldn’t have been hurting from holding back tears when nothing had happened.

God, the squinting wasn’t helping, either. He knew where he was going, of course, but the streetlights were barely helping. The sky had decided to paint itself over everything, a dark, grey blob of water and concrete and fog. The walk down the hill was going to be a slippery pain, even in his grippy boots.

Had he passed by the florist? He probably should have by now, but the main road hadn’t ended yet.

And even when he got home, oh joy, it would be to sit at a table and eat with his mother, and based on her tastes she would love to stand outside in the misery of it all even though it would be terrible for her health. What was the point of trying when another person wouldn’t even listen-

He’d been walking for too long. 

The road continued on, no longer heading into the surrounding trees but stretching itself past the point of impossibility. And at the end, in a place where it should not have been visible through the colorless mist, was a large, familiar house.

Ah, Martin thought. Someone had decided to talk to him today.

Looking behind him, the lighthouse was just barely visible. Looking to either side was a fool’s errand, as everything had been consumed by the grey.

He slipped the mobile phone out of his pocket and bent over to shield it from the rain. The screen lit up at his touch, but as expected any and all communication was blocked. Nevertheless, he opened the group chat and began to type.

Martin: i think simon wants to talk. everything is fog and i cant go anywhere else. hoping my phone makes it out so this makes it 

He pressed send, then mustered up whatever hope he had and added:

Martin: talk to you soon

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #tim stoker #peter lukas #jonmartin #fanfic #au fanfic #selkie au

[khunfounded]

Got Me In Check

[This was done for the wonderful @tower-of-chess collab!]

It was the late afternoon, sunshine pouring in through the dorm’s cloudy windows, and Khun was pretending to pay attention to his online probabilistic graphic models lecture while actually watching BEST 2 HOUR LONG FUNNY CAT COMPILATION  in another browser. It didn’t matter anyways, he was already ahead in all of his work, and he could answer the professor’s questions without even paying attention.

Cats were a much more important endeavor anyways.

Suddenly, the door slammed open, and his roommate, Bam, came racing towards him. His golden eyes were filled with desperation, and he was panting as if he had just run a marathon. It was unfair how Bam could pull off the hot and sweaty look (with emphasis on the hot) whilst Khun was stuck with frizzy hair and blotchy cheeks anytime he went sprinting across campus.

“Khun, I’m in trouble!” Bam wailed, hands gripping the armrests of his roommate’s chair, “I need your help”.

Khun’s eyes widened with concern, “Are you okay? What’s wrong? What can I do?”

If this was another Rachel problem, Khun swore to god he was actually going to stab her this time. He couldn’t put up with how easily she manipulated his friend, leading him around by the ear. Bam insisted that she was a good person, but her actions showed the exact opposite. What kind of person constantly gaslit and negged their friends? Khun knew the answer. An absolute asshole, that’s who.

But instead of what he expected, what came out of his friend’s mouth was, “I need you to teach me how to play chess!”

What.

“What?” Khun asked incredulously. 

Bam must have realized how he sounded, because he pulled away and tilted his head down to hide a prominent blush. He bit his lip and mumbled something incoherent.

As adorable as that was, it really wasn’t helping Khun’s confusion, “I didn’t quite catch that”.

Bam looked back up and his face got even more red, the blush spreading to the tips of his ears. He fidgeted with the loose strand of his t-shirt and cleared his throat.

“You know how I’ve been wanting to make more friends?” Bam hedged.

Khun did. Bam was a social butterfly, he needed friends to thrive, but ever since they moved away for college, he had been having trouble making them. Khun’s heart ached whenever he saw Bam looking longingly at groups of people messing around and laughing on the campus green. He and Bam were best friends, and they spent almost all of their free time together, but Khun knew that that wasn’t enough. He had no idea why Bam wasn’t surrounded by people at all times, honestly. His natural charisma could fell even the most stoic man. Though maybe he was a little biased.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“And you know how you suggested that I join some clubs to meet people?” Bam didn’t stop to let him answer, voice going a mile a minute like it did whenever he was emotional, “Well I met a really cool group of people, and their club president invited me to join and I said yes”.

Khun could guess where this was going.

“But?”

Bam covered his face with his hands and groaned before answering, “I said yes without realizing that it was the chess club. I don’t know how to play chess! But I already agreed and I don’t wanna flake out and I really, really want to be friends with them”.

Bam lifted up his head and grabbed Khun’s hands, pulling them to his chest. Khun’s heart rate tripled. That probably wasn’t good. But, hey, he wasn’t a physio major, what would he know?

“I had no idea what to do but then I remembered that I know the smartest person ever, and if anyone would be able to help me it would be him”.

“You’re just saying that to butter me up,” Khun chuckled.

“Please?” Bam pouted, “For me?”

Oh god, how could he say no to that? Curse Bam for knowing that he was Khun’s ultimate weakness. He sighed.

“You’re lucky that I used to play chess with Ran, otherwise you’d be screwed”.

Bam let go of his hands, doing a fist pump in excitement, “Yes! Thank you so much!”

“But next time we go get pho, you’re footing the bill”.

They decided to get started later that evening, borrowing a chess board from the desk assistant and bringing it to their floor’s rec room. Luckily, the only other people there were Wangnan and Quaetro, who were busy trying to murder each other in Mario Kart, and Hwaryun, who was working on her laptop. Khun assumed that she was editing a video for her terrifyingly popular conspiracy theory youtube channel. He and Bam sat on the floor in the corner of the room, far enough away that Quaetro’s evil laughter was a bearable volume.

Khun took out the pieces and placed them on the chess board, explaining each of them as he went. Bam was looking at him intently, eyes full of interest. Khun had to avert his gaze just so he could be able to focus and not turn into an incoherent mess. He fondly reminisced about the days long past when he was able to pull off being aloof and cool. Bam had left his reputation in ruins.

When he got to the Queen, he said, “She can move in any straight direction as far as possible as long as she does not move through any of her own pieces. She is the most powerful piece of the game, so use her wisely”.

“So she’s like Khun!” Bam grinned brightly.

“What do you mean?” Khun asked, rubbing his thumb against the edge of the Black Queen.

Bam reached out and took the White Queen, cradling it in his palm and smiling softly, “You’re the most important, too”.

Khun felt his cheeks heat up. Was this flirting? Was Bam flirting with him? No, of course not, that wouldn’t make any sense. There was no way it could be possible, but how the hell else could he interpret that?

Khun had long accepted the fact that his crush on his best friend was hopeless and would never be reciprocated, but lately things kept happening that made it impossible for him to not get his hopes up. Bam had always been affectionate, but it had increased ten fold in the last few months. When they sat on Khun’s bed (which Bam always claimed was far superior to his own) and binged youtube videos together, Bam would cuddle right up against him like a content cat.

Once, when Bam had had a particularly long day at work, he had walked straight into Khun’s arms and just held him for several minutes, tears of exhaustion seeping into Khun’s shirt. Afterwards, they had sat close together on the dorm room floor and Bam spilled out all his frustration and anxiety, fidgeting with Khun’s hand the whole time.

Sometimes, when they were walking downtown together, Bam would just take Khun’s hand and intertwine their fingers, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He wouldn’t even stop his excited rambling, just continuing on as if nothing had happened.

But something had happened between them, and Khun needed to find out what or he was going to go insane.

And in this moment, he decided that, fuck it, two could play at that game.

“So does that mean you’re my King?” He asked, smiling when Bam’s eyes widened and he ducked his head.

“If you’ll have me,” Bam murmured, biting his lip.

Were they still talking about chess? Khun wasn’t sure.

“How could I say no to that?” He said just as softly, before clearing his throat and picking up the White King, “Anyways, the King can only move one square in any direction, and he can never move himself into check”.

The moment was successfully derailed, but the electric charge of something was still in the air, even as Khun led Bam through some easy strategies.

“Now, you should make sure that you focus on the center four squares of the board,” he guided Bam, “Whoever dominates those dominates the game”.

Bam’s eyebrows scrunched up, and Jesus, why was he so cute? It should be illegal. Put him away for life.

“Okay,” he told Bam, “When you can get into a draw with me, that’s when you’re ready”.

And so began Bam’s week-long training, which he said was more intense than anything he’d ever done at Jinsung’s dojo. It was also much harder on Khun’s side, to hold himself back from absolutely decimating his friend in three moves, which Bam made sure to make fun of him for.

“I think it’s cute!” he said, “You’re trying so hard just to help me”.

“I’m not cute,” he grumbled as he took Bam’s Rook out of spite.

The entire thing was a learning experience for both of them. Bam was learning how to play chess, and Khun was learning that Bam had absolutely terrifying game rage. His eyes practically crackled with electricity and Khun heard him cuss more times in those few days than he had in his entire time of knowing him. Baby Khun would be distraught, but Adult Khun was kind of into it.

“Fuck!” Bam cursed when Khun got him in check, startling the sleeping burrito Laure, and making Khun burst out laughing. Bam stuck his tongue out and flicked Khun’s Queen, toppling her over. 

Khun moved the chess pieces back a few moves, and guided Bam’s hand to moving the Knight in a way that would have trapped him.

“This is where you went wrong,” he said, “Your instinct is good for your dancing, but you need to plan ahead with chess”.

But Bam didn’t seem to be paying attention. In fact, his eyes were glued to where their hands were touching. Khun jolted back when he realized what he had done, but Bam took his hand before he could move away, shifting so he was holding it. Khun died a little, but he was pretty sure he didn’t let it show. Relatively sure. Kind of.

They managed to play with their hands together, but Khun’s brain was mush. That was when Bam finally got a draw. Khun would have protested, but that would mean admitting why he was distracted.

As Bam was cheering and texting Isu that he was coming to the next meeting, Khun put away their pieces, trying not to feel loss. Bam didn’t need him anymore, at least not for this. He had always known it wasn’t permanent, but a part of him had hoped it would last a little longer. Khun bit his lip.

“Hey, Khun?” Bam said, voice still brimming with excitement.

“Yeah?” his voice sounded hollow. Damnit.

“I was wondering if you wanted to come, too? I just thought, you’re really good at it, and I think you’d like everyone there, and I want you to be friends with my friends”.

Khun blinked. He blurted out his answer before he could even think.

“Yeah. Yes, I would love that”.

Bam grinned, face lit up like the sun.

He reached over, hands gently cupping Khun’s face, and brought him in close. So close they were breathing the same air. Bam’s smile turned soft and he nuzzled their noses together before his sunshine eyes flickered down to Khun’s lips.

Oh god, was this happening? It was happening. Oh god. Khun’s brain stuttered and broke down. There was never a time in his short, short life where he thought that this would ever be possible, that Bam would ever think of him in this way. But Khun had always been a selfish person, he wasn’t going to take this gift for granted.

He leaned in, bridging the gap, and then they were kissing over the chess board and it was everything. Bam hummed into it, pecking Khun’s lips once, twice, three times. Khun tugged him in and kissed him for all he was worth, knocking the chess pieces over in the process. After one last kiss, Bam pulled away, giggling.

“You’re the best boyfriend ever, Khun!”

#tog #tower of god #khunbam #khun aguero agnis #the 25th bam #togchesscollab

[dc41896]

Say Something

Pairing: Johnny “Human Torch” StormxBlack Reader

⚠️: Maybe a teensie tiny bit of angst, fluff

“Hey Sue, I got the study results for Reed but his office is locked. Could you hand them to him for me? I have to meet someone in a few minutes,” you ask, slightly losing your balance from the stack of papers against your chest paired with your platform wedge sandals.

“Yea sure, I’ll give it to him when he comes back,” she smiles taking the stack from you. “And might I add you look so cute!”

“Whoa whoa whoa, and where are you going?”

Of course the night wouldn’t be complete without you running into Johnny.

Not exactly a couple but also more than friends, you guys had been playing with that line for a while now and you were getting tired. With each goodnight text and playful second glance, you thought maybe you guys would soon make things official.

But in typical Johnny Storm fashion, he’d bring a new fling to the Baxter building trying to impress her with a tour and leave you heartbroken feeling like a clown. Being disappointed one too many times, you finally decided to stop waiting and move on with your life.

Yeah it hurt, but constantly feeling as if you were left on the sideline without even a second thought hurt you more.

Arms crossed as he leans against the doorframe with signature smirk on his face, he eyes you up and down making you roll your eyes.

“Nowhere you need to worry your little mind about,” you sarcastically smile. “Thanks Sue, I’ll see you later.”

Watching you walk past, he finds himself mesmerized by everything from your sweet perfume to the way your skin glowed against your floral off the shoulder dress. Then again when wasn’t he entranced by you? He knew he wasn’t the type to openly express it in some grand, romantic way, but at least once a day he couldn’t stop the smile he’d get seeing you writing some formula on the whiteboard and occasionally pushing your glasses higher on your nose as you discussed science with Reed.

Never had Johnny experienced such strong feelings for someone like this before, which scared him more than any villain could.

“Need me to get a bucket for your drool?,” Sue asks peeking over her glasses as Johnny rolls his eyes.

“Seriously though, where’s she going?”

“And why do you need to know? Is someone jealous?”

“No, I’m just...curious,” he shrugs walking up to stand in front of her desk.

“Yea sure,” she laughs going back to the computer screens in front of her. Hearing footsteps on the white tile floors, he turns to see Reed solely focused on the phone in his hands as he enters the lab and sparking an idea.

“Well I’m about to head out, do you want me to give this to Reed since it’s on my way? He just got back.”

“Sure if you want to, thanks,” she smiles as he picks up the stack walking out the door and leaving her with a smile.

“I hope Reed knows to keep quiet,” Sue whispers to herself shaking her head as she watches the two men interact.

“Hey Y/N left these for you. She would’ve given them to you herself but she was running late.”

“Oh thank you,” he smiles skimming through the first few pages.

“Big night for her huh?”

“Yea she’s been so excited for a while now. I hope everything goes well.”

“Me too. Oh that reminds me, she said she’d bring you back something as an apology for not being able to go through that, uh, stuff with you,” he adds leaning against the metal table behind him.

“That’s nice of her but Pho really isn’t a favorite of mine,” he answers still looking at the paper in his hands.

“So that’s where she went,” Johnny speaks under his breath, devious smile on his lips as Reed finally looks up from his work.

“Did you say something?”

“Oh no, I was just thinking out loud really. Hey I’m heading out for a while, maybe try to give that brain a rest yeah?”

Whistling as he enters the golden elevator, he twirls the keys to his red corvette around his index finger; for the first time in his life excited to get a bowl of Pho.

———

“No way that happened!,” you laughed along with your guest, hand covering your mouth as a drop of water fell from your closed eyes.

“Yep! I still have the scars to prove it.”

Since you both sat down, it seems that all either of you did after every story was laugh and joke around. At first, you kinda felt bad thinking you might be a disturbance because of the noise, but the more you talked the less you cared what others thought and just wanted to enjoy your time out with him.

Using your chopsticks to gather some of the contents in your bowl before placing it in your mouth, a looming figure overhead nearly makes you choke as soon as you hear his voice.

“Y/N?! What are the odds that we both meet here tonight!” Pulling up a chair, he sits at the table before sticking his hand out towards the stranger in front of you. “Johnny Storm.”

“Um Cole Jones, nice to meet you,” he hesitantly shakes his hand confusedly looking at you.

“I’m sorry Cole, Johnny is a friend from work.”

“Yea really close work friends,” he smiles looking at you.

“Mmm that’s a bit of a stretch, especially with how I’m feeling at this moment,” you reply through your forced smile trying not to make a scene. “What are you doing here?”

“Uhh...to get something to eat duh.”

“You don’t even like Pho.”

“Nonsense I eat it all the time!”

“Hi can I get anybody anything?,” the waitress smiles looking between the three of you.

“Yea can I get what she has?”

“But without mushrooms please?,” you add giving her his menu as she nods before leaving towards the back.

“Aww you remembered I’m allergic to mushrooms,” he cockily smiles leaning back in his chair with hand over his heart.

“Yes and you’re making me wish I hadn’t.”

“Do you guys need a minute or something? Because I can step outside,” Cole asks still confused on what exactly was going on to which you and Johnny both quickly replied no.

“Yea everything’s fine! And what about you guys? How long has uh this been going on?,” Johnny asks crossing his arms on the table.

“This isn’t a date,” you frustratedly sigh rubbing your temple and hoping a giant hole would open somewhere that he would have to go investigate.

“Woww that bad huh? Hey don’t feel bad bud it’s not your fault she’s been spoiled with higher quality.”

Kicking him under the table and making him yelp in pain, Cole scoots his chair back before standing and collecting his things.

“Okayyy you know what? Clearly you guys have some issues you need to work through so I’m gonna head to the bar to get the bill then head out. I’ll talk to you later love.”

“I’m so so sorry about this, I promise to make it up to you,” you whisper with an apologetic smile as you give him a hug. Directing a head nod in Johnny’s direction, he flashes a fake smile before rolling his eyes as soon as Cole was no longer in view.

“You know, for people who aren’t dating it’s strange to hear couple nicknames like that.”

“And for someone who shouldn’t be in my business here you are. Who told you where I was?”

“Hey it’s like I said I came here to eat, it’s highly coincidental we met,” he shrugs taking a bite of his food.

Not caring that you were in public, you grab his ear pulling him along as he continuously “ow’s” behind you.

“Um is everything ok?,” the waitress asks looking equal parts concerned and amused at the sight in front of her.

“Yea it’s fine, and thank you for everything the food was really good.”

“Uh..you’re welcome,” she replies as you walk out with your “plus one” and all eyes on the both of you.

“Jeez don’t rip it off!”

“How could you embarrass me like that?! Seriously what is wrong with you?!,” you shout, words echoing off the parking garage walls.

“Nothing! I told you-,”

“Don’t lie to me!”

Looking into your frustrated dark brown eyes, a long sigh escapes his pink lips while he leans against your car with arms crossed over his chest.

“Fine, I got jealous ok? The moment I walked in and saw you both laughing and having fun I wanted to stop it there I admitted it,” he explains making you laugh in disbelief.

“So you can go be with any woman you want without even a second thought, yet the moment I go out that’s when you apparently have some sort of feelings for me?! You really are that full of yourself.”

“Listen I know I-,”

“No don’t try to excuse your way out of this like you do everything else! Do you know how long I waited to finally be chosen by you to only continuously get pushed to the back?!” Eyes burning as angry tears forced their way down your face, you quickly knock away his hand trying to wipe them for you. “I’m not some toy you pick up when you want to play and put back when your done. Your other girls might’ve been okay with that, but I’m not.”

“You’re right.”

“....what?”

“I said you’re right,” he softly chuckles at your shocked reaction. “To string you along while still going out with other girls was wrong and I’m sorry.”

Shifting from one foot to the other, his hand runs over his head as he lets out a breath. “Y/N I’m in love with you, have been since we started hanging out really. But I know how I am and that you deserve someone so much better so that’s where the girls came in. It sounds dumb, but I figured you would see that too and then both of us would move on like it was nothing. Only no matter how much I tried all I wanted was you.”

“And no this isn’t me trying to make more excuses or soften you up with lines. I’m telling you where my head was and is and how instead of just telling you how I felt, I made things 10 times worse which definitely sounds like me.”

Silence falling over the both of you, you wipe your face getting out your last few sniffles before looking down at your feet.

“You’re right, you aren’t the best person for me,” you finally speak. “You’re reckless, have selfish tendencies, and honestly sometimes I wonder if you even have a brain.”

“Ouch, but I deserve that,” he replies looking away until he feels your cool hands on the sides of his face.

“But that doesn’t mean that I don’t want you too.” Johnny’s icy blue eyes light up as he smiles hearing those words from your mouth. Taking your hands in his, he moves them to wrap around his abdomen while he embraces you, kissing your temple.

“That also doesn’t mean that you’re completely forgiven,” you add looking up at him. “Saying it is one thing, but you have to show me that you really want this Johnny because I swear if you play anymore games-,”

Unable to finish your sentence, you feel his soft lips crash onto yours while his thumbs gently graze your cheeks. Your heart races the deeper the kiss gets and your knees feel like they won’t last much longer making you grab onto his white tee shirt.

“That is part of my promise to you, Y/N, that there won’t be anymore games or immature stunts like tonight. This is gonna sound super cliche but you’re the only one for me and I will do whatever I can everyday to prove that to you,” he smiles, thumb now grazing over your lips. “So what are you gonna say to Cole?”

“Oh about that, Cole is my cousin. He’s in town for a few days before his next assignment and he wanted to hang out,” you giggle watching him hang his head as he laughs at himself.

“I really am an idiot huh?”

“No, not a total one. You just might want to get all the facts before trying to ruin someone’s night again,” you laugh pecking his lips.

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#chris evans #chrisxblackreader #chrisxwoc #chrisxreader #fantastic four #johnny storm #johnnyxblackreader #johnnyxwoc #johnnyxreader

[neerasrealm]

Eldritch dad comforts his ghost son

I couldn’t think of a better title.

Anyway uh- short bit of fluff about Ben and Slender talking after he has a nightmare, featuring a vietnamese-american Ben because @dragongirl2 told me the hc and I fell in love with it instantly. I’m not vietnamese and don’t speak the language so if I get something wrong uhh blame google translate. Also possibly slightly different canon to the ARG, I’m not that up to date on it sorry.

Words: 1223

He held himself tight as quiet, croaky sobs escaped him. His room was dark, save for the dim orange light coming from his 3DS, which was charging on his bedside table. He gulped and rubbed bloody tears from his eyes. He exhaled shakily and gulped again, trying to repress more sobs. 

A knock at his door made his pointed ears stick up, alert. He looked over at the door, almost not believing he'd heard the noise. 

"Ben?" A deep, kind voice asked him from outside. "Can I come in?" 

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded even though Slender couldn't see it. "Sure." He replied softly. 

The door opened quietly and Slender leaned in. He had no face, yet Ben could feel a gentle gaze resting on him. He curled up, hugging his knees as Slender crossed the room in only a few strides. A benefit of being insanely tall. He sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at Ben. 

"Why are you awake?" Ben asked quietly. 

"I sensed your sadness." Slender tilted his head at him. Now that he was closer, his voice felt like an echo, in a way. It seemed to fill the room and reverberate through Ben's head. You'd think that would be scary, and overwhelming, but it was quite the opposite. As Slender's voice washed over Ben, so too did a sense of warmth and comfort.

"Sorry about that." He murmured. One of Slender's tendrils appeared from behind him and brushed hair from the boy's darkened eyes. 

"It's alright." The tendril tucked the hair behind Ben's ear. "Why were you crying?" 

Ben gulped and looked away. "I…" he shrugged. "Had a nightmare. It's dumb."

"Everyone has nightmares, Ben." The tendril disappeared behind Slender's back again as he spoke. "Even I do."

"That's hard to believe." Ben murmured with a tiny smile. Slender almost seemed amused. 

"Well, I think that goes to show even I have a weakness. Don't you?" 

Ben smiled a bit more and looked up at him. "Yeah...that or it just means your brain responds to stress and fear the same way a human's does."

Slender chuckled. "Clever." He said, sounding proud. "Now...about this nightmare," he watched Ben's smile drop as he looked away again. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"I kinda do and kinda...don't." Ben shrugged. "I don't wanna talk about like- what happened in it but I...do wanna talk about like- how it made me feel…? I guess? I dunno…"

Slender didn't say anything. Instead, some tendrils reached over and grabbed Ben, lifting him up for a moment. He was placed back down into Slender's lap, his arms wrapped around him. Ben realised he was being cradled. Like a small child. Then again compared to Slender he was a small child. He inhaled quietly. Slender smelled of petrichor, and pine. Like the forest after it rained. It was a nice scent. Comforting. 

"Go ahead. I'm listening." Slender said above him. Once again his voice felt almost overpowering, yet also calming at the same time. Ben wasn't sure if he'd ever get used to that.

"Well-" he paused for a second, tugging at the end of his shirt nervously. He toyed with the fabric, pulling and rolling it in his hands absentmindedly. "...I...miss my grandpa." He finally said. "I just...hope he's alright…" 

"Do you want to talk about him?" Slender asked. Ben was quiet for a second before he nodded. "Go ahead."

‘’I...spent a lot of time with him.’’ Ben mumbled after a moment of thinking. ‘’Mom would leave me with him when she didn’t wanna deal with me.’’

‘’I wouldn’t call raising a child ‘dealing with them’.’’ Slender said. Ben shrugged.

‘’I didn’t mind though. I actually really liked when I was left with him. He was really kind...he wasn’t rich, but he bought me lots of stuff. Candy, ice cream, toys, clothes…’’ Ben smiled to himself. ‘’He made me feel really special. He called me uh-’’ he paused for a moment. ‘’mặt cười.’’ he smiled sheepishly. Slender looked down at him in surprise.

‘’Is that vietnamese?’’ he asked. Ben nodded.

‘’Yeah- my mom was born in Vietnam. They moved when she was really young...I was born here, but my grandpa always told me about it. I always wanted to go…’’ he looked sad for a moment. One of Slender’s tendrils reached down and stroked his cheek. ‘’My mom didn’t really talk about our culture or even speak vietnamese...so he taught me all about it.’’ he seemed to brighten up a bit as he spoke.

‘’You speak vietnamese?’’ Slender asked, sounding impressed.

‘’Not fluently! But- I know a lot.’’ Ben smiled a bit. ‘’I wish he could’ve taught me more…’’

‘’I could teach you.’’ Slender said. Ben looked up at him. ‘'Tôi biết một số điều.’’ he added with what would’ve been a smile if he had a mouth. Ben looked excited and squirmed in his arms, sitting up.

‘’Bạn có thể nói tiếng Việt?!’’ he asked excitedly. Slender chuckled and nodded at the boy’s excitement.

‘’I know nearly every language there is, Ben.’’ he said softly. ‘’If speaking vietnamese makes you feel more comfortable here I’ll gladly do so.’’

Ben grinned. ‘’Oh!’’ his face seemed to light up for a moment. His hands flapped about in his excitement for a moment. He gripped the knees on his pyjama pants to make his hands be still. ‘’Do you think you could cook some of the food too? My grandpa was a great cook- he made really really good banh xeo.’’ Ben beamed up at Slender, looking excited and hopeful. He chuckled, one of his tendrils curling around the boy’s hand. Ben tapped his fingers against it absentmindedly.

‘’Of course I can. I can’t guarantee I’ll be better than your grandpa was though.’’

Ben smirked. ‘’Yeah...he did make some great pho…’’ he giggled a bit. ‘’Your pancakes give him a run for his money though.’’

‘’Mmm...well I suppose they are good.’’ Ben could hear the smirk in his voice. One of Slender’s tendrils pushed the boy back down and he was cradled again. He didn’t really mind. Slender felt comfortable, and being held was nice. He smiled for a moment, then looked away. He toyed with the end of his shirt again.

‘’Hey Slender?’’

Slender Looked down, staring at him with nonexistent eyes. ‘’Hm?’’ 

‘’Could I uh-’’ Ben gulped. ‘’Could I call you- um- I mean you don’t have to say yes but could I- c-call you ‘cha’?’’

Slender tensed, recognising the word for ‘father’ immediately. He nodded almost too quickly. ‘’Of course you can Ben.’’ he said, sounding a little choked up. Ben smiled. ‘’But only if I can call you ‘con trai’.’’ Ben grinned wide. He nodded quickly. A tendril snaked up and ruffled the boy’s hair affectionately. ‘’Good.’’ he withdrew the tendril. ‘’Now, how about you get some sleep, little one?’’

Ben softened and gave a nod. ‘’Alright…’’ he murmured. The tendrils lifted him again and placed him gently into his bed. Slender pulled up the blankets, tucking him in. He stood up off the bed and looked him over for a moment. Ben smiled up at him and closed his eyes, curling up in his blanket. ‘’Goodnight, cha.’’ he murmured. Once again Slender tensed.

‘’Sleep well, con trai.’’ he whispered. He watched Ben for a few moments more, then quietly wandered out of the room and downstairs to go practice making vietnamese food.

#creepypasta #creepypasta fanfic #creepypasta fanfiction #ben drowned #slenderman #slender mansion #writing #fluff

[psychopersonified]

Car Troubles and Not Quite Dates

Part of the prequel series to "Are we ever going to talk about this?".

This one revolves around a series of car troubles that inadvertently leads them to spend more time together. 

Tags: Not dating, dates. Clueless Q but not quite. Intimacy in plain sight. Fluff so sweet I’ve developed a toothache writing this. Humour. 

-------

“So…. I’d offer you a lift, but something tells me you would be more comfortable taking the car service.” Q gestures to his dinky red Daihatsu apologetically. 

-------

Incident #1

It is absolutely pissing with rain and his DB5 is making that squealing noise again. Bond is not sure if it’s just moisture in the brakes or something more serious. 

If it were the brakes, he was hoping it would dry up by the time he had to leave. But now, four hours later, he can’t even engage the reverse gear to back out of the parking bay.

There is an awful grinding noise when he tries to throw the gear into reverse - startling people and drawing odd stares from the other employees leaving for the day in the SIS underground carpark. 

Among the exodus happens to be Tanner, briefcase in hand. He comes around to the driver’s side and Bond opens the door partway. Tanner is a bit of a gearhead himself and might be of some help. 

“Hmm… sounds frightful. The old girl acting up?” Tanner observes. 

“Yes…,” Bond agrees dully. 

“Did you engage the clutch fully?” Bond tries again, trying for first gear this time with the same result. The painful screech and grinding making both the men wince. 

“Try revving to 2000rpm, then engaging slowly.”

Bond does as instructed, depressing the clutch all the way, revving the engine slightly and then engaging the reverse gear. The gear engages, but with an unbearable screeching protest. He tries to release the clutch gently, but all that does is cause the car lurch back a few inches before cutting out. 

“I guess she’s just not in the mood today. Poor old thing.” 

:Beep! Beep!: 

A cheery if somewhat cartoonish honk sounds in greeting from behind them. A tiny red 1981 Daihatsu Charade rolls up behind the DB5. The paint faded and bubbling in some spots and on other areas missing altogether.

The driver-side window slowly and jerkily winds down before stopping halfway. The driver peeks out over it and a familiar voice calls out to the two men. “Everything alright?” 

“Ah Q! Probably the best person to take look at this. What’s your assessment?” Tanner waves him over.  

Fifteen minutes later and the diagnosis is dire, Bond will have to leave the DB5 in the building. Q-Branch will take a look at the transmission and gearbox in the morning.

Tanner excuses himself shortly after that, leaving Bond in Q’s capable hands. 

“So…. I’d offer you a lift, but something tells me you would be more comfortable taking the car service.” Q gestures to his dinky red Daihatsu apologetically. 

“I’m not as much of snob as people make me out to be.” Bond collects his coat and locks the DB5.

“Oh, you mean that tantrum about flying economy two weeks ago was entirely a figment of my imagination?” Q reminds Bond as the agent walks past him. 

“Well… when one is conducting business, one should keep up appearances should we not? Lest we give our ‘clients’ the wrong impression?” He circles round the back of the Daihatsu to get to  the passenger side. 

The agent hooks a finger around the door handle and pulls, internally relieved that it didn’t come right off, “Privately however, I’m not averse to rubbing shoulders with the working class once in a while.” 

Q chortles, “Suit yourself.” - giving him fair warning and gets into the driver’s seat. 

—

So… Bond might have spoken too soon. The rain hasn’t let up and the humidity is making the inside of the car fog up. The heating is… intermittent at best, so Q has to to wipe down the windscreen and windows with a towel (Bond had wondered what the little piece of cloth on the dash was for) when it gets too difficult to see out of. To top it off, the wiper blades need replacing - the noise they make is grating while doing jack all to remove water from the glass, merely smearing it around.

He supposes he should be thankful that the seatbelts work. Bond’s hope that the unassuming little car was hiding some high-tech Q-type modification was dashed quickly. It really was just a four decade old mass produced Japanese car with a rusty undercarriage that is letting moisture seep in. 

Dinner made up for it though. They stopped at an American style pub in Chelsea for some sinfully greasy burgers and southern grill & fry. The red brick walls and cozy booths made for a lovely intimate atmosphere despite the kitschy americana decor. 

With the conversation free flowing and comfortable, they stay longer than either expected. 

———————————

Incident #2

There is an ominous dark puddle under the DB5. -Lovely. What now?-. Bond wonders. The thing about driving a classic is that while it might add to one’s debonair charm; no one understands how temperamental they can be. A handcrafted British icon might in theory, sound like the final word in quality - but in reality it is far more unreliable than a modern mass produced machine. 

Bond remembers hitting a speed hump a little more vigorously than he should have on the way in. Perhaps that has shaken something loose. 

He removes his jacket, tossing it onto the driver seat and crouches beside the car, careful not to get oil on his clothes. Turning on his phone’s flashlight, he sweeps the beam underneath the car to assess the situation. He can’t see exactly where the leak is coming from, but it is patently obvious how large the puddle of oil is. Not a good sign. 

“Bond? Car trouble?” Moneypenny says by way of greeting. 

Bond straightens from his position on his hands and knees then turns around. Eve is standing with several other women from the various departments in MI6. They are all watching him with interest. 

He smiles charmingly at them, “Unfortunately. Careful where you step ladies, the floor is slick.” 

“Do you know what’s wrong?” Edna from Procurement enquires. 

“Not yet. Couldn’t get a good look.”

“I can hold your flashlight for you….” Samantha from Accounts volunteers. “...if that helps.” Eve turns slowly to fix her with a disapproving look.

“Thank you, but it won’t be necessary. I’ll have it dealt with in the morning. “

“Do you need a lift home? We’re not in a hurry this evening,” Ginny from Research offers. Eve targets her glare at her next.

Bond is a little surprised at the offer, “How… considerate; but I wouldn’t want to keep you from your plans for the evening.” 

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble at all. We’re just heading out for dinner and drinks.” Edna chimes in, “Perhaps you’d like to join us?” The three ladies level him with hopeful looks. 

Eve throws her hands up n the air in exasperation. Next to her, Jenny Khoo better known as R from Q-Branch ends the call she was making and pockets her phone. 

“Come on ladies, let’s go before before they give away our reservation. No need to worry about 007. He’ll be taken care of. Someone from Q-Branch is on the way.” Jenny reassures her colleagues and winks at Bond.

“Shoo-now, move along, nothing to see,” Eve prods the others along when they didn’t seem inclined to go. 

“Enjoy your evening ladies,” Bond waves to them as they leave. 

:Meep! Meep!: 

An honest to goodness golfcart rolls up next to his parking bay. Security uses one of these for patrols around the grounds of the building, but this is one belongs to Q-Branch. Bond has seen the minions use it to ferry equipment and packages around the compound. 

The driver today is none other than the Chief Overlord himself. He takes one look at the size of the dark puddle and shakes his head. 

“Judging by the speed of the leak, it could be a ripped pipe or a cracked oil pan. Either way, we’ll need to drain the system before repairs. I’ll get someone to have a look in the morning.” 

Bond watches as Q unloads a large shallow metal pan from the golfcart and nudges it under the DB5 to catch the remaining leak. Then spreads a bucket of sand around the edges to stop it from spreading further. He even has a ‘Caution: Slippery floor’ sign that he places behind the DB5 to warn everyone.  

Satisfied that this would have to do for now, he turns to Bond, “Need a lift?” 

“Of course.” Bond smiles. 

—

He’s back in the little red atrocity. At least it is not raining tonight. However, without the rain and the distracting noise of the wipers scraping against the windscreen, Bond now can concentrate on the other annoying aspects of the car. 

Like how the seat cushions are threadbare and the foam compressed to near nothing, he can feel the springs digging into his backside. And how the turn signals make the most irritatingly sharp and neurotic ‘click-clack’. The passenger side window winder handle is missing so the metal nub is exposed and digging into the side of his thigh. At least the prospect of dinner with Q makes up for it.

They end up at an alfresco Vietnamese noodle bar. The little establishment is wedged between two buildings and partially hidden behind a flower shop. 

They each get a large bowl of Pho - the bracing noodles in beef broth, perfect on a chilly evening. Intimacy is augmented by the crowded seating and small furniture which meant that they had to sit opposite each other, with their knees knocking. They quickly manage to find a comfortable compromise, slotting their knees between each other’s thighs - which suited Bond well enough. Any brushing and squeezing, was purely accidental. 

With dinner over far too quickly, they decide to head over to a nearby pub for a pint.

———

Edna elbows Sam when she sees the couple that just walked in. Their table in the dining section at the back of the pub is angled perfectly to offer them a good view of the patrons coming and going. Sam’s fork nearly flies out of her hand from the assault. 

“Eddie! What the hell—” Sam hisses in annoyance. 

“Look! At the bar…” Edna hisses back.  

“What are you girls on about?—” Eve turns around in curiosity, her back was to the bar. She spots the blonde first. The neatly cropped almost military style hair she recognises even from the back. The second man, the whip thin brunette with the shock of messy hair is partially obscured by the larger blonde crowding against him. 

“Who’s he with?”

“Isn’t that Collin Mitchel from Q-Branch? Jenny, don’t you work with him?” 

“Huh, I didn’t know they hung out.”

“Should we invite them over?” 

“NO.” Both Eve and Jenny answer in unison. The other three look at them like they have gone mad. 

“Well, it’s only polite.” Ginny decides with a stubborn air. She uncrosses her legs and starts to stand. In an instant, Eve has her wrist in a death grip - pulling her back down. She searches R’s face for an excuse. She’s got too much riding on those two getting together for a bunch of horny harpies to ruin it - even if they might be her friends. 

Jenny cooks one up on the spot, “Ginny wait! Um… I report to Collin. I already have to see him on a daily basis, I don’t fancy having to see him after hours too.” Jenny pleads for understanding. 

“Is he that awful?” Edna jumps to conclusions. 

“No! No. It’s just... we’ll end up talking about work and that’s not what tonight is about is it?” Jenny is quick to nip that misunderstanding in the bud. 

Ginny does not look particularly convinced. Neither do the other two but they let it slide... tonight. 

Back at the bar, the two collect their pints and retreat to a corner to continue their conversation. Again thank goodness for crowded establishments. They find a couple of high bar stools and Bond seats himself with his back to the wall, legs apart. He pulls the other chair close to separate them from the other patrons in the bar. Q settles in after, making no move to adjust the chair’s distance which effectively puts him between Bond’s thighs.  

Their body language is unmistakable. It speaks of comfort levels beyond that of colleagues and even some friends. Small touches, arms and shoulders brushing, practically whispering into each other’s ears. Bond’s chest is pressed against Q’s shoulder at one point when he leans in close to whisper something and then conveniently doesn’t lean away again. 

In the dinning area, the five women watch unblinking. Eve and Jenny share a hopeful conspiratorial look. Then Sam verbalises what they are all thinking, “Huh… wonder what they’re talking about?”

—

Amid the din of the bar, the incredulity in Q’s voice can still be heard, “You want… a wing suit. Have you gone mental?” The green eyes behind the glasses are shining with mirth. 

Bond makes a face and shrugs - pressed close as they are, the movement produces a pleasant comforting friction against the shoulders and arms, “Might come in useful.”

Q smiles companionably, faint dimples showing, “How about we leave the HALO missions to the SAS?”  

—————————————————

Incident #3

The key turns but the DB5’s engine does not roar into life as expected. Instead it chokes and sputters before wheezing like an asthmatic, then cuts off completely. 

Bond twists the ignition key back to ‘off’ and rests his forehead on the steering. He loves the old thing but it is starting to really test his patience. Classic cars like these do not take well to being left undriven for long stretches at a time. 

He tries the ignition again - the engine whines and sputters noisily in protest, refusing to turn over. There is a small crowd gathering. -Why doesn’t this happen when no one is around?-

He pops the bonnet and reaches in to check the connection on the batteries. 

“I could give you a jump?… I mean for the battery.” Bond turns around to face the the woman calling out to him. -Samantha. Accounts.- he recalls her name. 

She’s dressed a little nicer than usually required for a government employee. Likely going out considering its Friday evening - the shoes give it away. 

“Thank you. But I wouldn’t want to impose.” He tries to decline politely. 

“Oh no! It would be no trouble at all.” Samantha begins to root through her little purse for her keys. 

“Sam! We’re leaving.” Moneypenny’s voice rings out from somewhere behind her. 

“But—“ Sam beings to protest. Eve appears next to her. 

“Oh, evening Bond. Car troubles again?” Eve ever the observant one. “Need any help, or is this something only Q-Branch can deal with?” She smiles egnimaticaly. 

Bond takes the escape route he’s been given, “I think it’s best to let the boffins take a look at it.” He unlocks his phone to make a call, more to bring home the point than anything. 

:Brring! Brring!: 

A trilling bell alerts them to the new presence. It is attached not to a bicycle but to a Segway - another one of those vehicles that security uses to patrol inside the building and around the grounds. Which of course means that Q-Branch has a couple as well - used to zip around the labs and onsite storage facility. 

Q glides to a silent stop next to the DB5. He looks adorably ridiculous in the dorkiest way possible - high-vis vest and a neon orange bicycle helmet over his usual shirt and cardigan ensemble. 

Bond only just manages to catch Eve’s whispered lament, “Oh sweetheart, why?”

“Hello Eve, Samantha. Evening Bond, trouble with the car again?” He asks pleasantly whist manoeuvring the Segway out of the way. 

“Well! Seems like you’re in good hands 007. We best get going. Night Q!” Eve takes her leave - pulling a reluctant Sam along by the elbow. 

“Oh! Good night ladies.” Q calls out to them, surprised at the abrupt departure. 

Bond recalls R mentioning that the Quartermaster’s afternoon was booked for a meeting with a component manufacturer, “Q, please tell me you didn’t go into the meeting with the external vendors looking like that?”

Q checks himself and shrugs, “Well, I took off the helmet during the meeting… Why?”

-Oh Lord-. “Oh, nothing.” He plays it off lightly. “Mind taking a look at this?” He circles back to the problem at hand.

A few minutes of tinkering later and the DB5 is still obstinately dead. 

“Well, the old thing due for an overhaul I think. It’s almost six decades old and seen some fairly serious action. Are you sure you want to keep it? I could just have it decommissioned. And we could issue you with a Prius as your daily driver.” Q knows that would get a rise out of the agent. 

Bond turns to him, expression one of stunned disbelief. Decommission?… Prius? He’s not sure which idea offends him more. 

“Who are you? And what have you done with the Quartermaster?” he gives Q his best interrogating-a-terrorist scowl. 

“I’m just being practical!” Q defends himself. Then grinning, “Joking about the Prius… maybe.”

“How about, you get someone to take a look at it on Monday?” Bond counters. 

“Alright. Fine... Lift?”

“Yes please. Dinner first?”

“Sure, why not. Drinks after?”

“Would be my pleasure.”

—-

They treat themselves to a Korean BBQ a short walk from their building. Premium cuts of meat perfectly cooked on a grill at their table, ginseng chicken soup, crispy seafood pancake topped off with refreshing Korean beer. 

After dinner, they take a turn along the Riverside Walk across from the SIS building. However, that also meant that there stood a higher chance of them running into colleagues who might be thinking the same especially since it is a Friday evening. 

Which of course they they do. Eve is holding court with a few of the more outgoing ladies and gentlemen of MI6 at one of the fancy alfresco bars that line the Riverside Walk. Her little gathering turning into an impromptu party when more colleagues join in, taking the opportunity to enjoy the break in the weather. 

Trevelyan is among them, making his way around the group. His noisy socialising usually involve plenty of shoulder claps, hearty back pats and  chummy faux punches with the men; and with the women, outrageous flirting if they let him. The unapologetic extrovert is everyone’s favourite Double-0. 

Bond and Q drop in to say hello and show face, then sequesters themselves on the edge to enjoy the collegial atmosphere and jazzy lounge music without being in the thick of it. 

When Alec finally makes his way them, he wedges himself between the two, throws a friendly arm around Q’s shoulders (or Collin Mitchel as he known by; his civilian cover) and drops his voice into a stage whisper, carefully loud enough so that no one misses out on their conversation, “So Mitchel, I heard the committee approved the budget for the new ‘fleet’…”

Alec is referring to the Black Budget that included rumours of an allocation to upgrade the performance vehicles used by the Double-0 division - simply put, the agents were all hoping for new very expensive toys. 

“…Who’s your favourite and how do -I- get to the top of that list?” Trevelyan jabs himself in the chest with a thumb as he says this. 

Now this catches the attention of everyone within earshot. For those in the know, cash money might be riding on this answer.  

“Alec, who’s my favourite and the who’s on the list for an upgrade are separate things. You should know by now we prioritise based on ‘project’ requirements.” Q admonishes him. 

“Bah! Surely favouritism can get me somewhere.” Then more seductively,”You know… I’m not averse to performing favours when the occasion calls for it. I’m very well trained…” Alec puts on his best come-hither face.  

Bond just rolls his eyes at Alec’s theatrics and Q just laughs outright at the blatant attempt, nearly snorting on his drink. “Yes Alec. In case you’ve forgotten, ALL of you are. I don’t see how that separates your value proposition from the others.”

Mark from IT (one of Q’s closest colleagues outside Q-Branch) supplies the appropriate sound effect -  a loud descending whistle followed by a violent explosion. The table erupts into laughter.  

Undeterred, Alec pushes on, “Ah, so it’s not entirely out of the question, I just need to find my differentiating factor.”

Q tips his head close, matching Alec’s stage whisper from earlier. “Oh Alec, don’t be so hard on yourself,” he says to the agent sympathetically. “You differentiate yourself from the others on a regular basis. Compared to them, you’re a right plonker and an annoying bellend. Unfortunately neither qualities get you very high on either list.”

“Alec, quit now. There’s not enough hydro-gel plasters in medical to help you with that burn.” Bond joins in the friendly ribbing in between his own laughter. 

Raucous laughter. Even Alec has to laugh at his own roasting, hands in the air in surrender. 

—

It is late when they leave. Q rolls the car to a stop at the red light somewhere just outside Vauxhall. The night had been fun. Bond had been excellent company, and bizarrely he hadn’t gone off to catch a ride with Alec in his more image appropriate BMW. Q knew Bond hated his little Daihatsu with a passion but for some reason still accepted rides from him.

The light turns green and the Fiesta in the left lane next to theirs roll forward; Q’s old Charade is just a second slower off the line. 

He’s about to enter the junction when Bond sees it, a movement in his peripheral vision. A white Camry coming down the three o’clock street faster than it should. At that speed and distance, it is unlikely that whoever it is will be able to stop in time.

In a split second Bond’s reflexes kick in - he grabs the handbrake and pulls it hard. Q’s little car comes to an immediate jolting stop - throwing both of them into their seat belts and squeezing a surprised gasp from Q.

The Camry barrels through the intersection at considerable speed, missing them by a hair’s breadth. But the Fiesta next to them isn’t so lucky, the Camry clips it violently on the front right wheel arch, spinning the smaller Fiesta partially around and pushing it several feet up the onto the pavement. There is an explosion of plastic and metal debris all over the road. The Camry already on the other side of the intersection slows to a stop on the shoulder of the road. 

“Oh shit!... That was a close one,” Q is certain he had not touched the brakes yet the car came to a complete stop just in time. He checks for the cause and catches sight of Bond’s hand still wrapped around the handbrake.

Bond looks over at him, “You alright?” His right hand is already reaching for the seatbelt release. They should check if the other drivers are alright. 

Q nods, heart hammering in his chest, “Let me move out of the way.” 

He carefully manoeuvres his car around the debris field to the side of the road, behind the Camry. Just before Q comes to a full stop, the driver of the Camry seems to have had a change of mind. Instead of attending to the situation, it suddenly speeds off, tyres squealing. 

“Ah the wanker… PZ65BYV.” 

“Bugger it… PZ65BYV.” 

They both say at the same time as Camry disappears. They turn to each other, eyes locked for a moment - acknowledging the mutual training that helps them remember details like these when needed.

In the end, they stay with the unhurt but shaken 18 year old driver of the Fiesta and her friend until police and one of their parents arrive. They were on their way home from work at a local restaurant when the incident occurred. 

Q gives his statement as Collin Mitchel and gives them the number plates of the Camry; but keeps Bond out of the police report. He doesn’t have any cover identification at the moment and they don’t want his real name appearing in police databases even as a witness. 

 —

“Thank you… for pulling the handbrakes earlier. A few feet more and it would be a different story. I owe you for that,” Q puts the car into park in front of Bond’s building. 

“Just reflex. No need to get all gushy.” The agent downplays his action.

“Well thanks to your reflex, it was a near miss. So I’m very glad you were in the car. ”

“Speaking of near misses, are there any safety equipment in this car? Seatbelts aside?” Bond can’t imagine the thin sheet metal doors would hold up to any kind of collision. 

Q looks sheepish, “Haven’t found the time. Besides, fitting missile launchers into a supercar is far more exciting.” 

Using humour to deflect the question only increases Bond’s unease. He can read between the lines.  In Q’s list of priorities, his own safety is below that of his agents. Granted he is hardly ever in the line of fire, they make sure of it - but tonight has demonstrated that they can’t take his safety for granted even off duty. Bond’s instinct, the same one that pulled the handbreak serves up a word: Unacceptable. 

On a whim he asks, “Would you like to come up?” Then when he glimpses Q’s cautious expression, he adds with a smile, “Aren’t you the least bit curious?” 

Of course Q’s curious. But he’d never thought it appropriate to ask before. “Is there anywhere I can park?” 

—

The apartment is fastidiously clean but depressingly bare. Q tells him so. He had expected the complete opposite. Perhaps cluttered with objects from his extensive travels - a refuge from the impersonal hotel rooms that the agent is subjected to so often. Somewhere Agent 007 becomes just James Bond. 

“Tea? Coffee?” Bond asks once the tour is done, not waiting for an answer before putting the kettle on. He’s scrambling for a good enough reason that would stall Q’s departure. There is nothing he can come up with that is the least bit sexual, because he has never faced this context before i.e. taking it slow. 

He removes his jacket and holster, then turns on the telly to give himself time to think. It is tuned to to BBC One; the usual litany of depressing world news scrolls by - sex scandals, mindless violence, systemic financial fraud, looming global recession, security threats and sabre rattling between world powers. Just one night, he’d like to escape it all. 

“Tea please.” Q answers coming out of the bathroom. 

-Yes!- Bond thinks, he’s at least committed to stay for as long as the tea lasts. Bond retreats to the kitchen dutifully, handing the remote to Q as he passes. 

When he returns, it is with a large mug of tea for Q and a coffee for himself. The telly is now showing the Netflix landing page. Q scrolling though the catalogue at a dizzying speed. 

He rarely watches it himself, not for want of trying, but just the sheer variety gives him decision fatigue. He usually ends up spending more time deciding what to watch than actually watching. 

“You don’t mind do you? Just that the news was depressing.” Q gestures to the screen with the remote. 

“No. Go ahead. Netflix and chilling is fine with me.” He had heard the phrase before and he assumes it is a reference to how media content is consumed on demand these days.

Q pauses his high-speed scrolling to look over at Bond who is now settled casually on the armchair - not a trace of irony on his face. 

For once, Q has to smile at Bond’s innocence, “I don’t think it means what you think it means...” he gently leads Bond to correct his own assumptions.

“What? … Netflix and Chill?” Bond looks perplexed for a second, “Wait… it’s not a euphemism is it?”

“It absolutely is.” 

Bond shrugs away his embarrassment, “Learn something new everyday. Right then, what are we watching?” 

They end up watching the first three episodes of ‘A Very Secret Service’. A comedic and irreverent take on the French Secret Service set in the 1960s which pokes fun at the spy film genre - the bureaucracy, the tactics, the gadgets and the politics. All of which they can relate to. It is therapeutic in a way, to be able to find humour in their work - a brief escape to decompress. 

Q is asleep, curled on the sofa by the time the credits roll on the third episode. Bond pauses the show. He looks for a blanket to cover the boffin with. 

“Wha-time issit?” the question comes out endearingly sleepy and slurred. 

“One thirty.” Bond answers softly as he tucks the blanket around him. 

“Oh goodness… apologies. Must have been more tired than expected.” Q yawns and makes a half hearted attempt to sit up. “I probably should get going.”

“Stay. You shouldn’t be driving in this state.” Then before Q can make up a protest, ”Do you want to change into something more comfortable?”  

Q really did feel exhausted. Besides there is no harm staying the night for the sake of safety, right? It should be commendable even. “Mmm… okay.” 

—

The sight of Q padding around his kitchen in the morning clad in oversized sweats and sporting the most unruly hair nearly sent him back-pedalling into his room. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all, considering his self-control. -SLOW! We agreed to take it slow.- he argues with his libido. 

He takes Q out for breakfast as soon as the shops open - which meant out of Bond’s clothes and into a public area. This way he is forced to keep his hands to himself, more or less and his pants on.

—————

Three weeks later…

“Bond… I can’t accept this!” Q  protests. The agent had lured him to the parking garage under the pretence of squeaky breaks on his DB5 - but instead of the Aston Martin, a completely different and much newer car was parked in its space. 

The late model red Hyundai i30 in front of him is wearing a small tacky stick-on bow made from metallic plastic ribbon on the driver side-mirror.  

“Not to worry, it’s second hand. I managed to get a good deal.” Bond waves the concern away - as if that made it better. Like a car was a perfectly normal gift among friends. 

“Bond this is ridiculously extravagant. I’m a government employee—“ 

“—So am I. Consider it a birthday present.”

“I already have a car, Bond.”

“Yes… but this one…” Bond opens the driver-side door. “This one, all the electronic bits work. And more importantly, it comes installed with all the fancy active and passive safety features.” 

He uses a finger to point out each feature on the car as if Q didn’t know more about automotive engineering than he did, “All round airbags… anti-lock brakes… stability control… crumple zones… side impact bar… passenger safety cage—”

“—Bond!” Q cuts the agent’s sales pitch short. “I can’t accept gifts that may appear to compromise my personal judgement or integrity,” he quotes the government rulebook.  

“Yes I know…” his patience running out, time for a different tack. Bond walks back towards to the bloody-minded quartermaster, crowding him into the crook of the open driver side door, cutting off escape routes,  and regards him seriously. 

“Look, don’t think I don’t appreciate how sentimental that little Daihatsu is to you. I know, you’ve had it since university and you think that quirky little thing is an extension of your personality, but frankly Q… it would help me sleep better at night if I knew you weren’t driving around in that death trap.”

Q is rendered speechless. Both by Bond’s uncharacteristically sweet but misguided gesture and the unexpected admission. 

“You don’t have to get rid of of the Charade - just, don’t drive it around… Please?”

It’s the ‘please’ that gets him - turns him gooey inside. Bond could have said ‘I love you’ and the effect would have been the same.

He sags against the doorframe, holding a hand out for the keys. “I don’t see your DB5 around, so I’m assuming you’ll need a lift home?”

Bond has a massive grin on his face, “How kind of you to offer. Dinner first?”

“Naturally. Drinks after?” 

“Needless to say.” 

——The End ——----------------------------------

Note: If you liked this fic, there’s more like it on the blog. Enjoy!

#00Q #00q fanfiction #00q fic #Q #quartermaster

[king-paimon]

Houseki no Kuni Chapter 106 Thoughts: Bon Voyage...

Hello all. I hope these last few months have been kind to you in some way. These months have been... a lot. Some very good things happened, and some very bad. I wish we lived in a world were tragedies were just fiction, but that sadly isn't the case. I won't elaborate, but I promise, I'm okay. I just hope 2024 improves, though I know for many others, just hoping isn't enough.

I'm sorry for this late post. Once again, real life had me so distracted that I honestly forgot about Houseki no Kuni's chapter coming out this month. I only remembered when I saw activity around my older HnK posts.

Well, I finished reading the chapter and it was very beautiful and sad in different ways. I'll share more of my thoughts, though I don't think it'll be as long or detailed as my previous ones to be honest... Though I could be wrong! We'll see how it fairs. And who knows? Maybe I'll make another post to dissect this chapter further. But for now, I'll just write whatever comes to mind and try to make it as coherent as possible. I hope you like it. And as always, please feel free to share your own thoughts!

Here we go!

Thunderous Spectacle: The Final Journey

Once again, Ms. Haruko Ichikawa decided to flex her art skills by making beautiful, bombastic illustrations that encapsulates the chaos that is happening on Earth. And the ship departing looks straight out of a sci-fi movie; my mind went to Star Trek when I first saw those pages. Maybe Dune would be more appropriate; I actually don't know, I haven't read or watched Dune, though I hear it's very good.

I wish I had more to say about the visuals for this chapter, but I think they speak for themselves. I will say though...It's moments like this when I marvel... this was originally about a silly gem child trying to find their place in the world. And this is how their journey is finally coming to an end. Almost nothing is recognizable. This certainly was not how I thought this story, or specifically Phos' story, was going to unfold. I wonder if this was Haruko Ichikawa's plan from the beginning? Who can say...

Speaking of plans... Let's talk about Phos's and Eyeball's conversation.

Manipulation or Consideration: Humanity's Parting "Gift"

That was an interesting conversation Eyeball and Phos had when they were finishing up putting the little pebbles onto the ship. I think I remember stating in the last post how I thought it was odd that the Lunarians had this ship prepared for Phos. I'm glad this was somewhat addressed, but the conversation reveals that there was more behind this literal Deus ex Machina ship.

(I will never stop calling it that)

So if I'm understanding Eyeball's logic, Adamant and the Lunarians were considering Phos in the end? That after Phos fulfilled their last duties to the remnants of humanity that they'd be given the chance to leave the planet with whatever species came about before the planet died- Oh. Wait.

Wait.

Was this the thing that Adamant and Aechmea were alluding to back in chapter 96???

Oh my goodness, I think it was.

As I was typing this and going over some of the saved pages I had from the previous chapters, I saw the one with Euclase and I suddenly remembered their weird conversation with Adamant and Aechmea. I also remembered wondering what the heck they meant in the later chapters since their plan for Phos seemed to only be self serving.

HUH.

( Please let me know if I'm way off! For all I know, I could be making stuff up, but oh my goodness, when I made that connection AAaahh)

This was not how this portion was originally going to go, but there you go. I was going to talk about how twisted but not surprising how calculated everything was from the the Lunarians and the other ruminants of humanity's end. And I was also going to mention how the Doctor also fit into this since she was also calculated and manipulative in her own ways. Despite the different forms it takes, humanity didn't seem to change much in this world...

I was also going to originally say that the Deus ex machina ship feels like a backhanded "gift" for Phos, especially after everything that happened to them. And though I still feel that way, after thinking back to chapter 96, I'm now starting to see Phos's perspective of this gift. That despite everything that they put them through, Phos's former families still left this parting gift for them so they could live on elsewhere after they are long gone and when Phos was free from their duties. It's still a backhanded gift in my opinion, but it showed that they cared... at least a bit.

And the fact that their plan also included Eyeball is just wow. I do not blame his small, comedic outburst for that realization. He was manipulated too from the getgo!

At least in the end, Phos chose not to go into the ship. Phos intended to burn that bridge. Even though this thought was implanted by Sensei, Adamant, and the Lunarians, Phos still made that choice on their own and they are owning it. It's bittersweet, though, because regardless of whether or not they stayed or went, Phos's decisions were still a result of them being manipulated one way or another. Pretty much a lose-lose kind of situation, but at least the choice that Phos chose in the end still aligned with what they wanted in they end.

They are giving Eyeball and the little pebbles a chance for a fresh start while Phos can finally end the cycle... By taking humanity and himself to bitter end...

Or does he?

Goodnight, Phosphophyllite

The final farewell between Phos and Eyeball was touching. In a last minute decision to give Phos closure and in an act of true salvation, Eyeball took the last piece of Phos with him. The true remaining piece of Phosphophyllite. To me, this action felt more earnest and heartwarming than the Deus Ex Machina Ship (but that's just me).

What will happen with that piece of Phosphophyllite? Who knows? Maybe that piece will gain sentience and live a peaceful life with the pebbles? A life free of all the constraints as well as the freedoms that was intentionally and unintentionally reinforced within societies created by the former remnants of humanity? I suppose we'll have to wait and see.

As for the Phos that was left behind? The Phos that we've watch evolve from the beginning to end? They will finally rest.

They will finally, and truly be free.

(Albeit in a seemingly not so pleasant way?? Well, they weren't complaining so maybe the lava and other harsh elements isn't hurting them. I hope that's the case.)

I had the feeling that this chapter will be the last time we see Phos, or at least this version of Phos, and it would be a sad but proper send off.

But after seeing THIS at the end, I'm not so sure:

Of course Haruko Ichikawa decides to be cheeky with that little note. Ma'am. Why did you say this???

Is this her roundabout way of saying that Phos is kind of back to square 1? Of being the lonely, jobless Phos who no longer has a purpose and is left with nothing to do but "think." That's pretty funny/messed up joke if that's what she's hinting at.

But again, we'll have to wait and see.

WELP. That's all I have for you all. I hope you enjoyed my ramblings and I'd love to hear what you thought about this chapter. We're nearly at the end of this saga. We're are almost there...

Please be worth it.

#houseki no kuni #land of the lustrous #hnk #lotl #hnk spoiler #hnk spoilers #hnk manga #lotl spoilers #hnk meta #hnk phos #personal thoughts #hnk chapter 106 #hnk chapter 96 #hnk analysis #story analysis #long post #meta post

[tu-sonrisaaa-te-amooo]

CNCO As Songwriters

Since the boys have been writing so much of their own music (I’m so proud of them!), I had the idea to write five little stories about them as songwriters. I hope you enjoy it, my loves! <3    -m.n.

~JOEL~

You were out to eat lunch with a group of friends one sunny summer afternoon. Everyone was talking and laughing, except for one person: Joel. He was suspiciously solemn, hardly touching his food and keeping his dark eyes downcast. You saw that his hand was resting on the table beside you, so you put yours over it and asked, “You okay?”

When he looked up at you he gave you a faint smile. “Yes,” he said. “I’m all right.”

His mind seemed far away in space, but you didn’t want to push him in front of all your other friends, so you let the matter drop. But the truth was, Joel was not exactly all right. Slowly but surely, he was realizing how much he loved you. Sitting next to you with the sun in your hair and charm in your smile made his heart flutter, and he knew that he would have to tell you how he felt eventually.

The next night you were laying in your room when you got a text from Joel. “I’m outside. Can you come down?” You peeked out your window and there were headlights in your driveway. Your heart skipped a beat - Joel was down there waiting for you. You quickly texted back “yes” and went out to meet him.

You hopped in the passenger side of his car and he smiled at you. “I’m sorry if you were going to sleep soon, but can I take you to show you something?” he asked.

“Yes, let’s go!” you said, thrilled by this prospect of adventure.

He laughed a little at your enthusiasm and pulled out of the driveway. For about half an hour as he drove you two sang along to the radio, laughing and joking together, until finally he said, “We’re here.”

You were at the top of a tall grassy hill that overlooked the city so that it seemed like the stars above you were mirrored by the city lights below.

“Oh, Joel, it’s beautiful here,” you sighed.

“I thought you might like it,” he said, smiling. He pulled a big blanket out of his back seat and spread it over you both. “But that’s not what I wanted to show you.”

“Well then, what is?” you laughed.

He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket and started blushing a little. “Well, I stayed up all night last night writing this song,” he said. “I wanted you to hear it.”

And he began to sing, a cappella. It melted your heart. The song was a love song and you could tell he worked hard on it. Every syllable was styled to perfection, and his lyrical images were beautiful. He was comparing some girl to the stars, and Shakespeare himself couldn’t have topped it. It made you want to cry.

“Joel, that was incredible,” you said when he finished.

His dark eyes looked into yours and he said softly, “Well, it’s about you.”

“Really?” your voice shook. He nodded, and you leaned into his embrace.

“I don’t know if you can tell,” he said, “but I love you.”

“I love you too, Joel.”

~RICHARD~

It was a horrible day. Everything that could have gone wrong, did, and you were emotionally exhausted. To cheer yourself up you tried taking a walk in the evening, but you ended up twisting your ankle and falling in a puddle. So after limping back home, soaking wet, you threw yourself on the couch and just cried your heart out.

“If only Richard were here,” you thought gloomily. “He would give me the biggest hug and tell me he loved me.” But your boyfriend Richard was on the other side of the world on a tour, and he wouldn’t be back for months. You missed him like crazy.

Just as you were thinking this, your phone rang. He was calling you.

“Hello?” you answered.

“Babe... are you crying?” he asked, his voice concerned.

You took a deep breath and commanded your voice to be strong. He shouldn’t have to worry about you. “No,” you said. “Not at all, how are you?”

“Shawty, I know you were just crying. What’s wrong, babe?”

So you told him everything about your day, right down to the puddle you fell in.

“I’m so sorry all that happened to you,” he said. “I wish I were there to hold you.”

“Richard, I miss you so much,” you said, tearing up again. “I feel like my heart’s on the other side of the world.”

“I know, I know,” he said, a little sadly. “I feel the same way.”

You talked for half an hour, and just hearing his voice was such a comfort to you. But eventually he had to go to an interview with the boys (it was morning where he was even though it was evening for you), and you were all alone again. You had trouble getting to sleep that night.

A week later, though, you got an email from Richard. Perplexed, you opened it and it read, “Put on one of my hoodies and listen to this, it will almost be like I’m giving you a hug <3” and there was an audio file attached. You pulled on the burgundy hoodie he left for you, the one that still smelled like him a little bit, and dug out your headphones.

The audio file was a recording of Richard singing, and you could tell right away that he’d written the song himself. With every verse he reassured you of his love for you and promised to always be there when you needed him, and in the chorus he sang your name in a beautiful riff.

You pulled the hoodie tighter around yourself and shed a tear or two. It really was like he was giving you a hug himself.

~ZABDIEL~

This was your second week dating Zabdiel, and life was blissful. The clouds seemed to be rosy all the time and the air itself smelled sweet like springtime. Almost every evening you sat outside with him in the grass while the sun set, casting golden hues on his handsome face as you leaned on his chest.

Tonight, though, he brought his guitar with him to sing to you. You sat across from him, mesmerized by the way his fingers strummed the guitar strings and captivated by the way he smiled down at you while he sang.

Once the first few stars were out, though, he sighed and put down his guitar, looking at the grass a little sadly.

“What’s wrong, Zab?” you asked, putting your hand on his shoulder.

“I was just thinking…” he said, “I wrote a song for our new album, but I don’t know if it’s good enough.”

“You’re an amazing songwriter, babe. I’m sure it’s great,” you said. “Can I hear it?”

“All right,” he said, a little hesitantly. He struck up the first chords, and right from the start, your heart was pierced.

It was the sort of song that made you feel like you were in love and in Rome. The way the chorus rose and fell was almost painfully beautiful, and his voice carried so much passion. He sang that he felt like he could walk on air when he was with you, and his brown eyes were gazing into yours like you were his whole world. You were certain that the angels must sing this song in heaven.

When he finished you cried, “Zabdi! That was the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard! Why wouldn’t you think it was good enough?”

“Because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make it as beautiful as you are.” Fighting back tears, you threw your arms around his neck.

“Oh, Zabdiel, that’s the sweetest thing in the world. The song is perfect,” you said.

“Well if you think so, mamita,” he said smiling, “then it must be true.”

~ERICK~

Erick wanted to tell you a million times that he loved you, but he never got the chance. You had a boyfriend who made you cry, and Erick was the loving friend who caught all of your tears. He was the shoulder you cried on. 

He tried to tell you he loved you without saying it; by buying you ice cream at one a.m., and calling in sick on a day he was supposed to go to an interview just to spend time with you, and walking you home because he knew you were scared of the dark. But you never noticed what his true feelings for you were.

So Erick wrote them down. He put all his love for you, all his agony, all his hope, into music. His lyrics were raw, like he was leaving his bleeding heart right there for anyone to see. He perfected it through many long nights between the comforting texts he sent you, but he never mentioned a word of it to you.

Once he finished writing it and the band had recorded it, the song blew up in popularity. People everywhere were enchanted by the chilling ballad of unrequited love, and it topped charts across all demographics. It was the sort of song girls fall asleep listening to, pretending that somebody loves them that much.

By the time it did come out, though, things had changed for you. Erick had sort of given up on you, tired after so long of trying to be your hero. The band was going to be away for a long time, and he felt like the best thing to do would be to break his own heart and let you go naturally. You didn’t really talk that often anymore.

You had finally broken up with your boyfriend, though, and you were enjoying your new freedom. But one day while you were driving home, Erick’s song came on the radio. You had to pull over and listen to it, because something about it pulled your heartstrings.

By the end of the song, you were sobbing. “If only someone loved me that much,” you thought. “I didn’t even know it was possible to love someone like that.”

If only you knew…

~CHRISTOPHER~

The lights gleamed all around you as Chris spun you around on the dance floor, laughing mirthfully over the loud music playing. You were at a party with a bunch of people and the atmosphere was lively and fun, so Christopher was having the time of his life. He was still laughing when he drove you back home a few hours later.

The next morning you were awoken to a phone call at five a.m.

“Hello?” you answered sleepily.

“Hi! So I’ve been up all night because I wanted to write a song and I think I’ve got the chorus but I wanted to call you because it’s dedicated to you and-”

“Woah, Chris, I just woke up,” you laughed. “I can’t think that fast. What’s going on?”

“Well, I enjoyed dancing with you last night and I wanted it to last forever, so I started writing a song that makes me think of you,” he said.

“That’s so sweet,” you said.

“Can I sing it for you now?” he asked, and you could hear his smile through the phone.

“Of course! I’d love to hear it!” you said.

He sang what he had of it and explained a lot of the ideas, and you could tell that it was going to be an upbeat dance song.

“It’s such a happy song,” you said, and by this point you were grinning ear to ear.

“That’s what I wanted!” he said. “Because that’s how I feel when I’m with you.”

About a year later, once the song was finally written, recorded, and put on their new album, you and Chris were at another party. He went over and talked to the DJ, and a few minutes later they were playing the song he wrote for you.

“Will you dance with me?” he asked, smiling.

“I’d love to,” you said, and he spun you around like the night he wrote it.

#cnco #joel pimentel x reader #richard camacho x reader #zabdiel de jesus x reader #erick brain colon x reader #christopher velez x reader #cnco fanfic #joel pimentel #richard camacho #zabdiel de jesus #erick brian colon #christopher velez

[slo-liveblog]

Witch’s Heart: Bonus Stage Final Thoughts

Hello hello! Honestly I can’t believe I finished Bonus Stage after all this time... took me quite a few months, oof. Many thanks to the handful of you that stuck around during all that, and to the few new people who popped in too! Hope you’ve all been taking care of yourselves, and don’t mind the long post.

CHARACTERS

Claire: After finishing the first game, I didn’t know it was possible to love Claire even more. I was absolutely wrong. The way she took charge at the end was incredibly powerful and I’m so fucking proud of her, even if it’s sad as hell. I really really like how the game both criticizes and respects her unconditional empathy, I think there’s definitely room for both conversations and they’re both incredibly fascinating. I do think she suffers from some of the most writing pitfalls out of everyone, though. Like I said while playing, there’s really no reason given why she wouldn’t confide in Leon, or at least acknowledge that he’s likely the person there she can trust most. In addition, I found it really bizarre that Claire just... never tried to talk to Reynaldo or Sirius after learning about their pasts. Like, at all. I understand why the emphasis on Ashe was important, but it was jarring and kind of unsatisfying to see Claire act so uncharacteristically by not even really acknowledging them after their stories were over. It’s more of a story problem than a character problem though, I think, and I understand why it had to be that way especially considering the conclusions will touch on a lot of the missing pieces- I just wish there could’ve been more of a justification for it. The way her personality was explored through her interactions with everyone, and how other characters were depicted based on their reactions to her ideals, was incredible and I would die for her.

Ashe: Oh Ashe. Fuck Ashe. I do appreciate the depth given to his character, he’s definitely far more complex than I expected and kudos on that. I don’t really empathize with him as much as I do the other four mains, but I do think his writing is incredible and his relationships with Leon and Claire continue to be some of the most interesting to see play out, if not THE most interesting. Star shaped carrots man. Fucked up. Super excited to see how his dynamics with everyone continue, and he’s probably the character I’m the most interested to see make decisions going into these conclusions. His arc feels the most... unfinished, he’s never really reached any sort of closure at any point of the story so far and especially not bonus stage so it’ll be cool to see where he ends up.

Reynaldo: MY BOY. I’M SO FUCKING PROUD OF HIM... going into bonus stage my expectations for him were pretty much rock bottom from the moment I realized he didn’t have a single line in the opening scene outside of saying his name. Like, I kinda made my peace with the possibility that the writer just wasn’t that interested in developing him, and would rather spend time on the rest of the mains. But holy SHIT did he pull through in the second half of the game. The subtle but noticeable build to him deciding to side with Claire was so, so well done. I still wish there was a little more solidity to his characterization- I do have to reach way further to understand him than I do any of the other mains- but I think what we DID get for him was wonderful and god, I appreciate him so much. Definitely the character that improved the most for me from the first game to bonus stage. I can’t wait for his conclusion, here’s to hoping we do in fact get it this year. The way his similarities with Claire were set up makes me SO excited to see how their relationship develops when it’s actually the focus, and how he’ll be fleshed out more in general so we can finally have a clearer picture. Because to be honest, as much as I like the development he was given in bonus stage... there’s still a LOT of gaps to fill in with him.

Sirius: continues to be the perfect human being 1000000/10

Leon: Sweet baby boy whose expressions always make me cry. Leon is still a character I’m sort of on the fence on. Like, he’s very well written and easy to sympathize with. But I realized I’m always far more interested in how OTHER characters react to HIM than the other way around, though. He’s not really a character I personally would find interesting in general, he’s a little simple for my tastes, but that doesn’t mean I’m not 100% invested in seeing him end up happy... eventually. Something tells me it might be a while.

Charlotte: I feel like Charlotte definitely got the short end of the stick in bonus stage, moreso than any other character. Her only memorable scenes that I can think of off the top of my head were when she told Leon he could kill everyone but Claire, when she thought about how Ashe probably can’t be saved, and when she reacted to Claire after the completion of Ashe’s backstory. None of those scenes even come close to hitting the same level of intrigue or emotion as the sparse Charlotte scenes had in the first game, even if that last one does have some interesting bits in it. I said at the end of the first game that we’d only really scratched the surface and I was interested to see more from her and, well, my opinion hasn’t changed. I don’t think there was much I would’ve wanted out of her here anyway unlike the boys, so I’m not especially disappointed. Just hoping we get more excellent Charlotte moments somewhere down the line.

Zizel: I would’ve liked Zizel’s deal to be... a bit more built upon, to be honest? I could just have missed things along the way, but her triumphant moment is a little harder to get in to when we know almost nothing about her or the way she thinks beyond stuff reveled about her in the same scene. I could definitely see that her siding with Claire was being foreshadowed, but I think there needed to be juuust a bit more characterization given to her for that particular development to have the impact it seemed to be going for. Still, it was a good moment, and I think it definitely made up for a lot of the sore lack of Zizel in both games. Can’t wait to see what she does from here.

Lime: Goddddd. Okay look, I still love Lime probably more than I reasonably should. She’s wonderful and I love her design and her personality and her backstory and her motivations but... yea she’s a very very bad person. Bonus stage did really make it clear that she’s not just lashing out occasionally, and this isn’t anywhere near harmless teasing. She’s full on the primary villain of the game, in some ways, and has been doing pretty horrific stuff knowing (and intending for) exactly what she’s causing. Which we sort of knew in the first game anyway, but now it’s very explicit. And like, damn dude... I do wanna see what’s gonna happen with her. It’s tough, wanting to see a character get their comeuppance and stop hurting others while simultaneously just wanting good things for them. this really is how y’all ashe stans feel huh

Side Characters: I gotta say, I really loved a lot of the smaller characters introduced in bonus stage and the way their presence added to the development of the mains. Dorothy and Nicholas, the old dude and the thief woman (I didn’t actually realize until just now but nobody in Wilbert’s backstory had a name, huh. It may not have been intentional but considering that he might literally just not remember that far back I actually really like that decision.), and Ashe’s family and friends were really smartly integrated into the story’s themes and I appreciated that a lot. also lucy and coco rights

Overall This one gets a fucking 10/10 from me chief, some small issues certainly but as close to perfect as they get, in terms of the kinds of stories I like.

STORY

I debated breaking this up into chunks, like I did in the first game with the scenarios, but I feel like the writing quality is more or less consistent throughout the game so it would be a little redundant. I definitely need more time to think on bonus stage before I have a really solid opinion, but at the moment I kind of think the story was even better than the first game? My only major issue was the aforementioned use of Claire’s character, where she’d only really react to the boy’s backstories as she finished hearing them, with the exception of Ashe’s. And her not confiding in Leon. But other than that, it was a constant rollercoaster, with pretty much every scene being jam packed with 3000 layers of character development and relationship building with lore sprinkled in. The elements that were amazing in the first game, like the fun dynamics between the characters and the subtle and unobtrusive exposition, are nothing but improved upon. I do wish we got to play more with the idea of the demon girls living alongside the mains, I think that aspect was severely downplayed almost immediately after it was introduced, but I’m crossing my fingers those potential dynamics get some time in the conclusions. Once again, my biggest gripes with the story are just that I feel like there’s so much more to explore and I can’t wait to see how the rest plays out. still giving this bitch a 10/10 on this one it was everything I wanted and more

GAMEPLAY

Combat: This was kind of... not even really utilized in bonus stage, which I didn’t actually realize until just now. There weren’t any real “boss battles” in the way there were in the first game, the closest thing to it would I guess be Dorothy’s showdown. Considering I didn’t even notice, I think that was a perfectly fine decision. The climax worked well without any actual fights. The battle mechanics continued to be functional and everything, just... not much of a thing.

Demon Requests: It could just be because I played a lot of bonus stage at a very different pace than I did the first game but the demon requests didn’t feel as frequent or intrusive this time around. I was always really excited to get to the request portion anyway cause of the photo booth and all the cool new areas, I had a super fun time using the deep sea bubble and I think overall the stuff that was added to the fantasy spaces was really neat. also lucy and coco rights

Minigames: Very hit or miss. It felt like the minigames were either so quick and easy they were hardly memorable or so tedious they made me wanna die. Take that with a grain of salt, though, I’m really bad at video games. There were very few of them anyway so it doesn’t matter much, but I guess it would’ve been nice if the minigames were less... Like that. To be fair, they were all still pretty charming or cool conceptually. Can’t really complain about getting to fucking shoot people as Dorothy even if it was hell to play.

Overall The demon requests were actually really enjoyable this time around, but the minigames and combat were kind of downplayed. Not to big of a deal, though, it’s not as if they were a focal point of the game to begin with. 7/10

ART & SOUND

Character Design: Not much to say that I didn’t already say after the first game, but the special bonus stage outfits are absolute bangers and I wish they got shown more often. And maybe I would’ve liked the guys to have a little more variety to their suits. But that’s nitpicking, Claire and the demon girl’s dresses are absolutely gorgeous.

Sprites and BGs: The overall art quality definitely got shaky in places but I gotta say, they pulled out ALL the stops for the sprites in this one. Ashe just fully has an entirely new set of them, and everybody else gets tons of new expressions too, all of which are super super good at conveying incredibly specific emotions. All I’m saying is, this would be a totally different game for me without the sprites, and I was always ecstatic to see new ones and figure out what was going on in the character’s head based on them.

OST and Sound Effects: Again, pretty much the same deal as the first game. I think there was a bit of a higher frequency for songs that made me immediately want to search for them so I could listen to them later though, thank god for that. So many good tracks.

Overall Continued to impress me, and then some. Only a slight improvement from the first game, in my opinion, but even that is pretty impressive since I didn’t have many issues with the first game to begin with. 8/10

So uh, in other words, I really really loved this game. Cannot WAIT to start best boy’s conclusion!!!

#witchs heart #slo reviews #slo talks #LETS GOO

[wordsintimeandspace]

Better With You (1/6)

Due to a petty feud between their respective department heads, Crowley and Aziraphale have been hiding their friendship for months. When they’re suddenly stuck in lockdown amidst a pandemic, Crowley is not coping well. Thankfully, Aziraphale is there for him - but their changing relationship means that keeping secrets from their bosses only becomes more of a challenge.

Crowley/Aziraphale, rated M (for chapter 4). Read on tumblr or AO3.

Crowley stared down at the pen he was balancing between his fingers, and imaged all the countless ways he could use it to get Gabriel to shut up right this second. For once he was glad that Gabriel was usually too self-absorbed to pay any attention to a code monkey like him - he had no doubt that not even his sunglasses were hiding his murderous fantasies, if the concerned glances Aziraphale kept shooting at him every now and then were anything to go by.

“So,” Gabriel finally concluded, clasping his hands in front of his chest, “if you could get that feature done by Friday, that would be great. The client is waiting.”

His condescending smile made Crowley’s blood boil, and Beelzebub let out an angry buzzing beside him. For a second Crowley thought they would leap over the conference table to strangle Gabriel until the bloody smile was finally gone from his irritating face. Crowley would pay good money to see that, but instead Beelzebub just shot up from their chair and slammed their fists down on the table.

“Absolutely not,” Beelzebub snarled. “That’s impozzible. Do you have any idea how much work that is if you don’t consider it at the beginning of a project?!”

Gabriel let out a huff, but otherwise didn’t falter. “Come on,” he said casually, as if he wasn’t just confronted with the fury of one of the most feared people in their company. “The lot of you down there in engineering should be a bit more flexible.”

“And the lot of you in client relations should actually do your job,” Beelzebub hissed. “You discuss these parts with the client right at the beginning, not one week before the deadline.”

“Listen, the client is the highest power in this company, and if they want this feature, they’re going to get it.”

Beelzebub apparently didn’t have an answer to that, because the client was the highest power, as annoying as that was. But that didn’t mean they backed down from glaring at Gabriel, fury and disdain radiating off them in waves. The tension in the room made Crowley’s skin crawl. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, glancing from Gabriel to Beelzebub and back, until his gaze finally met Aziraphale’s.

Aziraphale sat quietly beside Gabriel, nervously wringing his hands in front of his belly and looking downright miserable. Since both their bosses were still too busy glowering at each other, Crowley screwed up his face and rolled his eyes at him.

Aziraphale’s lips twitched as he tried to suppress a laugh. His eyes gleamed in a way that made Crowley’s heart skip a beat, but as soon as Aziraphale turned his attention back to the conversation the last bit of his smile was gone.

“Umm,” Aziraphale started hesitantly, wincing as both Gabriel and Beelzebub suddenly fixed their gaze on him. “We could ask the client for an extension of the deadline. I’m sure they will be understanding. They did apologize for making last minute requests after all.”

Gabriel’s face grew stern as he now glared at Aziraphale instead of Beelzebub, and Crowley quickly jumped into the discussion before he could open his mouth and all the despicable things that must be running through his head could tumble out.

“We could, ah, maybe reuse some code from the project last month,” he started, shooting a nervous glance at Beelzebub. “Shouldn’t be too complicated to adapt, yeah? Could be done in two weeks. Three, maybe.”

For a moment Crowley thought Beelzebub might rip his head off for accommodating Gabriel, who was most definitely the enemy in their opinion, along with all the others working in client relations. But then their face relaxed just the tiniest bit.

“Fine,” they hissed. “If you get us that extension.”

Gabriel didn’t look too happy, but then he nodded. “Fine. Aziraphale will take care of it.”

Beelzebub rushed out of the room as soon as they were done. Crowley hoped to get a minute with Aziraphale, but Gabriel barked at him to follow when he turned to leave, and all Crowley got was the apologetic look Aziraphale threw over his shoulder right before they vanished around the corner. Crowley let out a long sigh, picked up his pen and notebook and trotted back down to his office.

The engineering department was in the basement, a bit too dark even for Crowley’s sensitive eyes. It always felt a bit too damp, a bit too cold to be comfortable. Crowley passed the posters on the walls, both the ominous “don’t lick the walls” posters he was used to and the newer, slightly unsettling “wash your hands” ones, until he reached his office and slumped back into his chair. The hand hygiene posters with their red, bold letters had been up for a week now, ever since the whole virus situation was getting a bit more serious. It made Crowley nervous, although London seemed to be safe so far. He knew that he should probably check the news more often than he actually did, but he also didn’t feel like he had any mental energy to deal with that sort of the thing at the moment. Meetings with Beelzebub and Gabriel always left him drained.

But no matter how bad a meeting had been, there was always one single person in this blasted company who could make him feel better. It was just what he needed right now.

Crowley fished his phone out of his pockets and opened his contacts. Right at the top was the person he was looking for: Angel. A nickname he had proposed one evening after too much wine had made him bold for once. It still made Crowley’s stomach flutter every time he read it. And beside of that, it served its purpose: no one would know that Crowley was consorting with the enemy, if anyone in the office would ever catch a glimpse of his screen.

Crowley sent a text: ‘How about Vietnamese for lunch? My treat.’

The answer came just a minute later, but Crowley still jumped in his chair, his heart skipping a beat in anticipation.

‘Our usual place?’ Aziraphale wrote.

 ‘Sure. Wherever you want, angel.’

 ‘Temptation accomplished.’

Crowley, who usually tried very hard to keep his reputation as a sleek bastard among his colleagues, couldn’t help but smile.

~~~

The prospect of seeing Aziraphale was way too distracting for Crowley to get any real work done for the rest of the morning. It had been a while since they’d met properly. It had only been polite nods in the corridors or annoying small talk in the elevator in the last few days, apart from the blasted meeting with their insufferable supervisors. Usually they met once a week for lunch, but both of them had been busy recently, and Crowley rarely had time for more than a sandwich scarfed down in the break room.

Crowley let out a sigh of relief when it was finally lunchtime and hurried to grab his jacket to get out of the building. Their usual place was a tiny restaurant a few streets over, so hidden between the large chain restaurants that they didn’t have to worry about running into their bosses or colleagues in there. Crowley had passed it two times a day for months on his way to work, but he had never even noticed it until Aziraphale had suggested it as their secret lunch spot, gushing over the delectable pho.

Aziraphale was already there when he entered, occupying a small table in one corner that shielded them from the view of the few other patrons. He was focused on the menu, reading glasses perched on his nose, but immediately looked up as Crowley approached. His lips curled into a smile so bright that it made Crowley’s head swim. Looking at Aziraphale’s smile was like staring into the sun, sometimes, filling him with such a warmth that Crowley feared he would burn one day.

“There you are, my dear,” Aziraphale said. “I was afraid Beelzebub would have pulled you into yet another meeting.”

Crowley snorted, sprawling into the chair opposite from Aziraphale and blushing faintly as his eyes seemed to follow every movement of Crowley’s too long limbs. “No, thankfully not. I think they had enough after that spat with Gabriel to deal with any more idiots today, including me.”

“You’re hardly an idiot,” Aziraphale tutted.

Crowley let out a sigh, letting his head loll back. “I must be, working in that hellhole,” he muttered.

From behind the menu, Aziraphale gave him another disapproving look. “Now you’re just being dramatic.”

“I’m dramatic?! When it’s Gabriel and Beelzebub who have declared themselves mortal enemies, even though they work for the same bloody company?”

“Well…” Aziraphale tilted his head, considering.

“Really, angel, how could I not be dramatic in response to that? This whole thing is ridiculous. We’re hiding that we’re going for lunch together, for Heaven’s sake!”

“You do have a point, my dear, but-”

“It’s not even against the company policies!” Crowley continued, too agitated to stop himself. “I mean, we’re friends, it’s not that we’re da-” Crowley managed to snap his mouth shut before any more words could tumble out.

Dating, that’s what he’d been about to say, but he couldn’t bring these words over his lips. It was a train of thought Crowley very much did not want to follow, because it only ended in the conclusion that he definitely did want to date Aziraphale. Wanted to hold his hand and wrap his arms around his middle and maybe kiss his pretty pink lips-

Aziraphale cleared his throat, pulling Crowley out of his thoughts before he could get to even more dangerous territories. A faint blush coloured Aziraphale’s cheeks. “Well,” he started, his voice a little wobbly. “I agree that it can be… inconvenient. But it’s probably better this way, for now. Can you imagine Gabriel’s mocking if he ever finds out?”

It stung a little, Aziraphale’s words. That meeting him was inconvenient. That being with Crowley was actually something worth mocking, and that Aziraphale cared enough about the wanker’s opinion to hide it. The hurt must have shown on his face, despite the glasses still obscuring his eyes, because Aziraphale’s face fell. He reached for Crowley’s hand on the table, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I didn’t mean it like that. And every bit of inconvenience is more than worth it, my dear, if I get to spend time with you,” Aziraphale reassured him with a such a soft smile that it made Crowley’s eyes sting.

“Thanks,” Crowley managed to croak out, distracted by the gentle brush of Aziraphale’s thumb on the back of his hand. They had never touched before, not properly, intentionally like this. Aziraphale’s skin was warm and soft against his own. The caress sent a shiver down his spine, right to his toes, and Crowley let out a shuddering breath. Christ, if he was already this affected by such a small touch, what a wreck must he be when Aziraphale got his hands on him properly?

Crowley shook his head, banishing the thought before it could get him into any more trouble. Suddenly too shaken to bear the gentle touch any longer, he snatched his hand away and grabbed the menu so quickly he nearly knocked over his glass of water.

“D’you already know what you want to eat?” he started babbling, eyes wandering over the menu without taking in any of the information. “The dumplings were good last time, yeah?”

He felt Aziraphale’s piercing gaze on him, and for a second Crowley thought he wouldn’t get away with the sudden change of topic. But then Aziraphale pulled his hand back, leaned back in his chair and interlaced his fingers on top of his belly.

“I was thinking more of the cao lau this time,” he hummed.

Crowley let out a breath. “Sounds good,” he croaked.

The conversation flowed easily, as it always did with Aziraphale, once they’d ordered their lunch and steered away from any dangerous topics. Crowley relaxed as the meal went on, his nerves soothed by Aziraphale’s quick wit and humour, all the things that had drawn him to the other man ever since they’d gotten to know each other properly. It had taken just another argument between Gabriel and Beelzebub for that, a petty fight that forced them both to work late one evening, scrambling to overhaul a project just days before the deadline. They had quickly realized that they got things done quicker if they worked together, and also discovered that they genuinely liked each other’s company.

Ever since there had been hushed conversations, secret lunches, and occasionally, when Crowley was very, very lucky, a few drinks after a long day at work in Aziraphale’s cosy living room, where Crowley would lounge on the couch and Aziraphale would sit in the armchair, both of them surrounded by too many books to count.

Crowley didn’t even remember when exactly he’d fallen in love with Aziraphale. Maybe he had been right from the beginning, and every word, every look from Aziraphale over the past few months had just pushed him one step closer to damnation. It didn’t help that sometimes, Aziraphale would look at him just so, or say things that would make hope bloom in Crowley’s chest, both sweet and suffocating.

“We could, ah… maybe go for dinner on Friday after work? How do you feel about sushi?” Aziraphale said at the end of their meal, just when he was about to leave - a few minutes before Crowley, of course, because surely Hell would freeze over if they walked into work together for once. “It’s going to be a busy week, and I suppose we could both use a little treat by then?”

Crowley stared at him for a long moment before his useless brain finally comprehended Aziraphale’s words. His stomach swooped, because while they were used to going for lunch during their breaks, dinner was new and brought so many new possibilities that it made Crowley’s head swim. “Sure. Sounds good, angel,” he finally managed to get out, and Aziraphale beamed at him like Crowley had hung the stars.

“Wonderful,” Aziraphale cood, patting Crowley’s hand one more time before he got up. “I’ll look forward to seeing you, my dear.”

~~~

As it turned out, they did not see each other on Friday. Crowley had finally managed to read the news that afternoon, scrolling through the headlines with growing anxiety, but he was an optimist at the core and still didn’t expect the turn of events crashing down on him in the following week. London wasn’t as safe as he thought, and neither was the rest of the world. On Wednesday, all restaurants closed for the foreseeable future, including Aziraphale’s favourite sushi bar. On Thursday, chaos and panic broke loose as a co-worker from another floor that Crowley barely knew tested positive and half the workforce was put into quarantine. On Friday, instead of meeting up with Aziraphale after work, Crowley was officially and indefinitely banished to working from home. He spent the day in his uncomfortable designer chair in his too dark living room, staring at the wall as he tried to wrap his head around the situation and wondered what he had done to deserve things going so very wrong just another time.

#good omens #good omens fic #ineffable husbands #ineffable husbands fic #crowley x aziraphale #my fic #my fic: better with you #welp I'm a bit nervous about this #because of the topic and because it's my first GO multichapter and my first GO AU #honestly I did not expect to write a lockdown AU #but I needed some self indulgent hurt/comfort #to cope with all this #so here we are

[sassaetcie]

Silver x Idia (The Molten Charcoal) chapter 7 [END]

Finally the end of the fic!!! (spoiler: big weeb reference, I apologize if you find this cringe bruh)

Okay so... I kind of... played videogames all night (lol). Couldn't sleep and all. Of course if I had been to sleep during the date... it would have been awful but... I still went like this... I could... have asked Ortho to bring Silver into my room immediatly but... that would have been too much. I mean... It pains me to go outside but... How far would have I annoyed anyone if I had? I had trained myself to go out of my room anyway so... This shouldn't have been that hard. Sure water was killing me, and I was butchering this very water but... My steps felt... mine. Not a heavy haze or this kind of shit. This was no longer intoxicating smoke. My legs, my hands, my arms, my fingers. I had... took back these... things. Were they things any longer? I... kind of did something weird, too. I mean... was it weird? Of course it was since it was me (www) but... I still can't tell if it was... smart, at least. I... wanted to prove Silver this day was important and... not that it was just... another 'date'... Well it was another date but. Not like this... I... wore my ceremonial robe. I mean! Not to show off... But it has a hood so... I could hide my hair and all... Sure it was stupid, it was stupid, it was so fucking stupid?! It was both a Sneak +100 and Sneak -100 outfit... Or did some people wear it before... for the ceremony day aside? I... just wanted to wear a... pretty outfit... to show him how... I... feel things for him? So... I did. The hood felt comfortable, and still does. Of course... the flames could still set it ablaze if something were to happen... or make it happen. So I... wrapped my hands in the black, frozen, cloth. I strangled this body with all of this dark, sun-absorbing fabric. I couldn't master all of these limbs so far but I... was slowly getting how to handle them, right? I just needed to be... sure. That none of them would go their way. I asked of my fingers to go and fuse with a brush, to let some of these normal drops mix with this hair yet-to-be mine. A sound appeared in the room. The brush had fallen down, as it should. Yet I... grabbed some air with these fangs of mine. Yeah, I could, at least. In the worst case, it would have been my... last date. So... it was just the (current? www) final showdown! I needed only to create some steps and carve them through reality. I was able to interact. I drag these bones, these diamond and dry bones. I certainly could do something with this basis. My tibia obeyed. My backbone obeyed. My skull obeyed. This basis of bones... My bones arrived, linked with this weak flesh ready to cry under the heat, pine over water. We... I... entered the shadow once more. His lake-like eyes were as dim as my flames, probably. Darkness hindered us from burning each other.

-Oh, you are pretty early.

-S-s-so... are you... weren't you... supposed to be here at 6 pm... It's barely 5:50... W-w-w—well not that I wanted to see you later or whatnot! I j-j-j-j-ust... thought I would... be... no, nevermind.

The prince raised his hand and ulna on the little hat Diasomnia was so fond of (lol, I dunno but...), bringing it back onto the side of his head it was supposed to befriend. Had it even moved??? I didn't... really notice back then, tbh.

-I... wanted to get there before you do... I thought you might think I was betraying you if I didn't.

-H-h-h-h—huh?!

-I mean... I have heard from the others you are quite prompt to have anxiety and panic... attacks?

-Y-y-y-eah that's true...

-So I wanted to make sure I would be there before you. I want to go with you and see how we will understand our feelings, even if they end up different. Well, let's go.

-Y-y-y-yes...

Did he expect me to reach my hand to him? He stood up so quickly I still don't think he wanted me to but... He would have told me for sure. Silver was so honest he couldn't possibly mess up like this... Even though that wasn't necessarily messing up... Maybe he was just tired??? I tried to walk as fast as I could. As long as I was with him... I was myself, after all. This crown of flames was no more. But was I pacing too fast, tho...? Nevertheless...  he would have told me if this was unpleasant... He would have told me for sure. Silver was honest to the point of hurting others. And yet cared about harming, unlike a certain red pest (asshole.). So... the doors opened before I even knew they were there.

-Oh... So I guess this is your room.

-Y-y-yeah... Guess it's a bit messy, huh...

-It feels honest. I only know of another room as messy as this one but I do not really go into others's rooms a lot.

-T-t-t-thanks, t-then...

I guess that was the best answer to make... I didn't really want to be looked down because I didn't tidy up my room or some stupid shit like that... And he didn't look down on me because of so stupid a shit...

-Hmm... You sure got a lot of figures... Oh, is that Ryougi... Shiki?

-Huh?! You know her?!

-Yes. My old man watches quite a lot of anime and... well, a lot of different things.

-S-s-s-so... Do you recognize this one?!

-Oh, is this a Phos...phophy...llite one?

-Yes! Yessss!!! You sure know a lot of stuff!!!

-My old man told me the show this person is from was quite sad... Do you appreciate sad shows, hm... Shroud?

-O-oh... Huh...

He could have thought I was definitely a grim person (well I am but...)...

-I kind of, yeah... Catharsis and all that stuff, I think... y-you know...

-Oh, I understand. I was just... curious. Will we sing sad songs as well?

-W-well if you don't feel like singing sad ss-s-stuff... I would understand, d-don't worry Iwontforceyouanyway...

-I do not mind that much. I want to try.

-Hmm... Sad songs can help us show our feelings from what I've read s-s-o...

-I understand... Shall you start? I can start if you feel uneasy.

-I... think I can start. You're... n-n-ot the kind of person to mock weak and dumbasses, right... so it should be alright... I just hope it won't... huh...

-I won't laugh at all. Your bravery is worthy of praises, Shroud.

-Can you... call me Idia?

-Understood, Idia.

He couldn't possibly have mocked me. How many burdens had I pushed on him? I flattered his ego by saying he wasn't the kind of person to mock weak... Asked him to use my name... He would break something if he were to lie to reality...

-I'm... going i-i-in, then.

And of course it wasn't the first time I was singing... Even among people. We had already had some singing contests on servers wayyyy before... Setting up the off-vocals, the mic... even without a mic it would have been alright, tbh. I guess I wanted to... at least show I was good with computers, lol...

-Étoi... le... et toi...

I guess French was just a way of covering whatever these words watering through my throat were. How dared I use something like this? How dared I use such a stereotyped love strategy?

-Et toi... et moi...

Words were floating around. I could not see them but... A blue gleam, a usual blue gleam had disappeared. I closed my eyes several times, yes. For numerous seconds, certainly... One... Two... Three... Whatever. The heat didn't force them open. And his soft eyes of water were not asphyxiated nor asphyxiating.

-Le monde... est vous...

"You"... Yes. The mic feels cold between my hands, my ten fingers, my ten white and carved phalanx yet to be carved again phalanx. This world was... not theirs, after all. Nor was it made of this Water, this One Normality.

-Vous êtes... le monde...

Yes... We are part of it and so... Water, Flames... Whatever. Your eyes aren't made of one lake drowning the whole world except I.

-Étoile... et toi...

You are made of fire and water. I am made of lava and ice, into mirrored proportions, no matter what they are.

-Et toi, et moi...

Surely, you weren't especially my prince, nor a special element fated to me. There was no such... sad thing as this, even if this world is (lol) made of all of these. But you wouldn't have chosen me because of some "rules".

-Tout ce que je vois...

No matter how carved is your bone-like hair, no matter how frozen is this ice-like hair... You are not made of one flow of water. Your iris are... yours. How many skies did you gather between what I was barely grasping as stupid water?

-Tout ce que je ressens... Tu es mon uni...vers.

Yes... You are a shard of this world's mixed elements, and you lent me your hand from some words you had chosen among realities.

-I don't really know what you said but... I feel like I understand how it was supposed to feels.

-R-r-r-really?

-Your voice really seemed... soft, I would say? I didn't feel like it was supposed to be sad but more of a... saudade feeling? A melancholic... hm, yes that's the word, happiness? At some point, you were smiling, I think. I like to hear you singing but... It's more I like when you sing of this specific thing... Happiness while melancholy... And  a soft voice... Was it a love song?

-H-h-h-hm... hm...

-I... really like it. But it was different than when Malleus... hm, Head Malleus, played violin. Sure it sounded pretty but... I felt something.

-You... You did?!

-Yes.

-Then huuuuh... should we... call this... ?

-We should ask someone else but... maybe?

I was just... so happy I kind of feel lazy to write the rest. I mean, what good will it make anyway? I feel waaay less stressed (lol). So... I've spoken with Ortho... How I needed to update him and all... But first I had to tell him he... didn't have to take care of me anymore. I guess this was just temporary but... I'm sorry, Ortho. Silver... probably solved more of my problems than you did. I guess it took me 18 years to be Idia.

[Started Recording at : 9h15 AM : Tenth Day.]

Thus ends this special Recording of a Shroud non-heir. Idia has found happiness. The Shroud family shall not be anymore.

And so these years of learning made Ortho himself.

-Yes. I am Ortho Shroud. Thank you for watching or listening to all of this. I wish you happiness as well. I hope you will find yourself like we did :)

[Ended Recording at : 9h17 AM : Tenth Day.]

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland fanfiction #twst fanfiction #idia x silver

[aliceslantern]

Heartlines, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 5

Twelve years ago, Xemnas betrayed the royal court of Radiant Garden to his father, Xehanort. Prince Ienzo flees to another city and begins university in the aftermath, hoping the anonymity will protect him from eager eyes with ill intent. The darkness spilling across the country, as well as an individual from his past, cut short Ienzo's new beginning and bring new conflicts to light. Strained between the desires of his magic and his heart, Ienzo's choice will change him forever.

Modern Fantasy AU, Soulmates, Zemyx. Updates Fridays until it's done.

Chapter summary:  Ienzo investigates Demyx further, and comes to a shocking revelation.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

Ienzo told Aeleus everything.

The man seemed more tired than usual. He’d been gone for the past two days on some resistance mission neither Even nor Ienzo really knew anything about. He’d slept soundlessly, almost breathlessly, on the couch for two hours before Ienzo tried to feed him and convince him to sleep in his proper bed. But when Aeleus asked how he was… the words had spilled out of him almost against his will.

“There are more people like me here, Aeleus,” he finished. “That much is certain.”

Aeleus ate steadily. Ienzo had made pho; he’d forgotten how much he missed cooking with an actual full kitchen. “Of course there are,” he said. “Not everyone goes underground in our sense. Some merely prefer to hide.”

“In some ways I feel so… naive,” he admitted slowly. “I wish you would tell me some things so I don’t feel so ignorant.”

Aeleus smiled and squeezed Ienzo’s hand. “If I could, I would,” he said. “Even I am only allowed to know pieces, parts.” He set aside his empty bowl. “Though I am curious. I had thought all the seeker lines… were eradicated.”

“But why, if they’re functionally harmless? He has no magic.”

Aeleus rubbed at his eyes. “Their abilities are purely passive… and somewhat latent. It’s thought seekers would do anything to trigger their own abilities, even if they do not consciously realize it. But once they wake… they are a force to be reckoned with. Their individualism was what made them dangerous.”

Ienzo exhaled. Was that why Demyx was so drawn to him? Because on some level he thought Ienzo’s power would awaken his own?

“...Moreover… and Even would say this is all silly mythology.”

“If Even says it’s silly, then I want to know it all the more.”

“Seekers pairbond. It’s thought they spend their days looking for their soulmate… and if they find them, they know. Ironically… despite the individualism, they are nearly dependent on those they bond with."

Ienzo smiled a little. “That is very mythic.”

“I admit I’m rather jealous of you. I’d like to meet one.”

“Well, if I can be subtle about it, I’ll ask him.”

“He might not know much about his own culture.”

“...Soulmates.” Ienzo shook his head. “As if anyone has time for love right now.”

---

Still, why was it Ienzo agreed to see him again?

Thanks to the psychology professor, Eraqus, he was able to test out of many gen-ed courses. But this left Ienzo with a dilemma--namely, that he had no idea what to actually major in. It seemed like a superficial problem to have, on top of all this.

“ Precisely why I wanted you to actually take those classes,” Even told him, with a scowl. “To get to know your cohort, your community--because that influences it too.”

Ienzo pursed his lips. “Why bother, when we might have to run again at any moment? You should have at the very least given me the choice, Even.”

His disposition did not improve. “You know little of the actual world. Gods forbid I try to actually let you learn.”

“Learn what? On paper, I already know all of the content. And you don’t want me to truly get close to anyone--else you would actually let me socialize, instead of calling me until I return home.”

His head snapped up from his computer. “How dare I worry for you, you mean? If there are Heartless and seekers and goodness knows what else--”

“Even. I can take care of myself. You have to let me make my own decisions. Otherwise, what type of ruler would I ever hope to be?” A bit of an underhanded move, but true regardless.

Even turned pink, and his scowl deepened. He knew Ienzo had cornered him. “Very well . Now leave me be. I have to finish this report.”

Ienzo put on a jacket and left the house. He told Demyx he’d meet him at the streetcar station nearest the beach. He thought about what Aeleus told him, about soulmates. He thought of the warmth, the prickling he’d felt with his own magic whenever they were together. Was it possible that--?

Perhaps it was simply a silly schoolboy crush, and given that he’d never much had one on anyone else, this was just how his magic reacted normally. Surely he couldn’t simply ask Demyx what he’d felt, could he?

Something to ponder. Aeleus had said it was myth. Ienzo reminded himself to try and study more magic history. It had been some time, and he was rusty.

The streetcar was relatively empty for this time of day, so his trip was smooth and easy. Ienzo liked public transit, its cleanliness, its efficiency. If only all of life could be organized so neatly. He watched the band of sea grow closer and closer until finally the conductor urged him to get off at the terminus.

The memories of the sea were louder now, harder to fight-- Braig, where is _____?

I dunno, I just turned around for five seconds, couldn’t have gone far--

The feeling of water rushing into his lungs, sand as the riptide tossed him back and forth like a ragdoll-- then a memory he was almost certain he hadn’t recalled in some time, of another child in the water, a child with blonde hair and shiny scales guiding him towards the surface--

“Hey, Zo! You made it!”

Ienzo gasped a little. He had to have corroborated that memory. It was impossible that happened--Braig had to have been the one who saved him from drowning, or Aeleus, not some kind of--creature that looked just like the man in front of him-- “Hi, Demyx.”

He cocked his head. “You okay?”

“Yes… I… fine. Shall we?”

“Uh. Sure.”

They walked along the boardwalk, the old, sand-weathered boards creaking under their feet. Various food vendors, gift shops, and game booths dotted the surface, leading to a set of stairs down to the beach itself. “You ever been?” Demyx asked. “It’s too cold to swim, but still pretty to look at.”

Ienzo breathed that sea-tinted air, the echoes of the memory making both him and his magic feel… so very strange. Was he being put in a thrall? But this felt like none of the thralls Even and Merlin had trained him on. It did not feel like conscious magic. “Sure. Let’s go.”

They took off their shoes when they got to the water. The sand, in this twilight, was pleasantly warm. A few people milled about; the brave were swimming, some wading, others flying kites or playing with dogs or simply watching the water. They walked closely enough that every few drifts of tide, Ienzo could just barely feel the cool water on his toes. He felt… relaxed, he realized, even in the presence of this essential stranger.

“Does this remind you of your home?” Ienzo asked him. Demyx’s expression was dreamy, his eyes trained on the ocean outside.

“It… does. Whenever I really feel homesick… I come down here. It’s a little too cold for surfing now, but even just the sound of the waves… or the birds…” He sighed. “I was supposed to go back for a visit. Before it… fell.”

“I truly am sorry.”

He smiled sadly. “It’s not your fault.”

Ienzo wondered if it actually was; if he hadn’t been running, if he’d done something or fought , would Destiny Islands be whole?

Demyx took a breath. “I wanted to… talk to you about something,” he said. “And I know it’s going to sound totally insane--”

Ienzo’s heart beat harder.

“But I can’t stop thinking about it, and I wonder if it’s actually true--”

He felt almost like he couldn’t breathe, the world getting dizzy, his magic practically screaming at him to open his eyes and see what was right in front of him--

“Hey… you okay?”

Ienzo’s knees gave out, and everything went dark.

---

“...zo? Hey.”

He blinked. He was lying on the soft sand of the beach, and the right leg of his pants was awkwardly wet. “What happened?”

“You fainted. Here.” He was handed a bottle of water.

Ienzo sat up slowly. His right eye didn’t hurt, but it did feel warm, almost like it was glowing. He opened the lukewarm water and drank it.

“Sorry about your pants. I wasn’t able to fully catch you.”

“...They’ll dry.” He looked back towards the boardwalk--there were no people near them. They were almost completely alone in this strange little cove. “A… friend of mine told me a little about seekers.”

A flush brightened Demyx’s face. “What did they say?”

“He said… that you subconsciously seek out your soulmate, and when you find them, you know.” Demyx’s face was still doubled in his vision. “Is that true? Is that what you're actually seeking, not magic users to protect?"

A substantial pause. All Ienzo heard for a long moment was the waves. Then, finally, “yeah. It’s true.”

Ienzo sat up a little more. “When we…” He swallowed, and forced himself to lock eyes with him. “When we met. I felt something in my magic. I didn’t know what it was, but I wonder--”

“If we--” Demyx cut himself off. His eyes were watering.

“That wasn’t the first time we met, was it?”

“No.”

Ienzo’s heart was beating so hard. “When I was… little. My family and I took a trip to your islands. My caretaker… lost track of me, and I nearly drowned. I was saved by… something. It was you, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” The tears ran over.

“You’re not human.”

“Not completely. But neither are you.”

Ienzo shook his head slowly. “Not completely.”

Demyx took both of his hands. “I’d forgotten it… all the way up until… you saved me from that Heartless, and then I didn’t believe it was you until…”

The pull was growing stronger. “Then what are you?” Ienzo asked.

“I guess you would call it… a siren? I guess?” He bit his lip nervously. “But we… I don’t remember how, I really don’t, but I lost the ability to change form… and one day I just washed up on the beach. I forgot who I was for years .” He took out the pendant. “And since then…”

“You’ve been looking for your history and your family.”

“And you.”

Ienzo’s breath caught.

“I know we’re… we’re basically strangers, but… I know we’re…” He swiped at his eyes. “Right? You felt it too.”

Slowly… in a state of disbelief… Ienzo nodded. The prickling feeling inside of his magic only intensified. Demyx took one hand and touched his cheek. Ienzo gasped despite himself. He’d never had these feelings… maybe there was a reason --

Demyx had said he was a siren. Maybe this was all some kind of enchanting magic he’d never experienced--

But his own energy was telling him this was all truth.

Demyx leaned in a little. How had Ienzo not noticed how he smelled before? Like ginger, and salt, and something else he had no name for. “I…” Ienzo was breathing shakily. He should’ve been embarrassed, falling apart like this. “I’ve never--”

“Would you want to?” Demyx asked gently.

“Yes.” He closed the space between them, and Demyx’s lips on his shouldn’t have felt so right . It took him a moment to learn how to do it. Those callused hands tangled in his hair, pulling him a little closer--

Another stronger, warmer wave broke over him, making the fine hairs on his arms stand up straight--

Demyx broke away first, pressing his forehead against Ienzo’s. “Your hair’s glowing again,” he said softly, pressing a kiss against Ienzo’s cheek.

The pleasure he’d found quickly shattered. “No,” he said, snapping his head around to see if there were any witnesses. “Oh--”

“No one can see us,” Demyx said. “I’m blocking you from view.”

“I just--I don’t know how much magic was released by--” He licked his lips. He could still taste him, for gods’ sake, a weirdly sweet flavor.

“I’m blocking you,” Demyx repeated.

He got it. “You can… you can do that?”

“More like…” He brushed his fingers across Ienzo’s cheek. “Distracting whoever would listen. Making them think about their dinner, or…”

“Passive,” Ienzo repeated. “What do we… what now?”

“I didn’t… I didn’t think I’d get this far.” Demyx blinked the tears out of his eyes. “I mean… I guess…”

“Get to know each other?”

He laughed a little, and Ienzo did too.

“I don’t know how I’m going to explain this,” he told Demyx. “My father… I’m not sure I fully understand what’s going on--”

“Me either.”

“I was told…” He could barely breathe. “I was told… when I didn’t understand the situation… to research. To gather data.” Demyx’s hand, against the small of his back, was so warm. His whole body felt suddenly so much more alive.

“I think I understand,” Demyx said, and kissed him again.

---

“Where have you been ?” Even’s voice was shrill, and Ienzo noted, not without worry. He was late, he knew; the sun had been down for hours. “And why are you--covered in sand ?”

Ienzo winced a little. He had a choice to make here--to lie, or tell the truth. But something this big… he had to be sure. And Even did have a nigh-bottomless knowledge of the monarchy, and Ienzo’s own magic. “I’ll… explain everything, I promise, but know I am fine . Let me clean up, and then we can…”

Even touched his shoulder. He lifted a strand of Ienzo’s hair, the tips of which were still luminous. “Oh,” he said softly. He seemed frozen; Ienzo was able to pull away with ease. Even remained there, his one hand still raised, muttering to himself.

Ienzo took a shower. His skin seemed more sensitive than before; in fact, all of his senses seemed as though a film had been peeled away. He combed his hair and looked at himself in the mirror. He took a deep breath. He put on some pajamas and rejoined Even in the parlor.

The heavy mahogany desk had been cleared off. “Up you get. Up,” Even said, steering him over. Wordlessly, Ienzo listened; the wood was cold and hard after the sand. Even forced him to lay down.

“Are you going to tell me why I was never informed about all this pairbonding nonsense?”

“Shut up ,” Even hissed. “Be still.”

Ienzo felt coldness leaching into his body, making him shudder. Even’s magic was always sharp and angular as it probed his. Finally, after what felt like a long time… the coldness dissipated. Ienzo shivered. He sat up slowly. Even was breathing hard, with an odd look on his face, as though someone had struck him. “At first I wondered… if he had placed some advanced enchantment on me,” Ienzo said. “But judging by your expression… that is not the case.”

Even seemed to be struggling. “I’d thought…” He began softly.

“You knew this was a possibility,” Ienzo said. “You knew , and you never said--” A sort of rage blotted out the coldness. “Why didn’t you--”

“It’s old magic, Ienzo,” Even said, spreading his arms. “Ancient, even.” He pressed a hand to his forehead. “It’s that boy, isn’t it? The one Aeleus mentioned… the seeker?”

“So is he my mate, or isn’t he?”

“That’s for you to determine,” he said. “You needn’t… accept this bond, Ienzo.”

Ienzo thought of that kiss, and the many that had followed, the way it all made him feel .

“In fact, if you do… you might as well send up a flare saying “here I am!””

“He blocked me.”

Even’s head snapped up.

“When we were figuring this out. His magic eclipsed mine.” He knotted his hands together. “Why did you not tell me this was a possibility?”

“Because almost all seekers are dead!” Even all but yelled. “How was I to know you’d come in contact with one, much less we’d run into him here of all places? Child, did you even know which gender you favored?”

Ienzo shook his head wearily. He was tired now. “You remember that diplomatic trip we took to Destiny Islands? When I… nearly drowned?”

Even softened. “Do I remember. It’s one of the many reasons I’m going prematurely gray. It’s due to Braig’s carelessness that you almost lost your life.”

“He wasn’t the one who saved me. Demyx was.”

“Oh…” He turned pale. “And the magic released as you struggled for your life… must’ve forged that bond.” He thought a moment, then dashed over to one of the books on a bookshelf. “No matter. I’m certain there’s a spell somewhere that could break it, and you can simply--”

“Break it?” Ienzo repeated.

“Don’t tell me you want this, Ienzo?”

Ienzo’s hand fluttered to his lip without meaning to. “Would it be so terrible?” he mumbled. “Especially… if he does have a shielding property.”

Even groaned. “Child, I know you are flush with hormones, and this magic is hard to resist, but think a moment.”

The embarrassment burned his cheeks.

“How do we know he isn’t allied with Xehanort?”

“If he spent years looking for me, do you really think he’d hurt me?”

“Does he know who you truly are?”

Ienzo said nothing.

“Exactly, Ienzo. Exactly .”

He stood. “I’m going to bed,” he said.

Even followed him. “Tell me you’re not thinking about it.”

How could he not? “I think you should allow me to make my own decisions, Even.”

“Ienzo--”

“I am very tired. Good night. ”

He tramped up the stairs, reeling. So this was… true, then. He and Demyx were… A flush came over him. Even was partially correct; ever since they’d kissed on the beach, some thing had woken up in him, something hot and wanting, something that had previously been much quieter.

Ienzo drew the blinds and lay in bed. He looked at his cell phone--messages from Demyx--

I hope you got home safe. Everything feels so much louder now… I feel so awake…

Ienzo took a quick breath. I do too.

What do you want to do?

He knew what he wanted. What he said instead was, I need to know more about you. And you need to know more about me.

Just give me a time and place.

Some place private… away from those that may listen.

Leave it to me.

Ienzo set the phone aside. He started up at the moonlight playing on the ceiling. Mate , he thought. I have a mate. Someone who knew neither of his gender nor of his heritage. Someone who might try to get away from him if he found this out.

Ienzo could tell him, gauge his reactions, and wipe his memory if need be…

He wanted to trust Demyx. If his magic could protect Ienzo… could that possibly be a way for him to finally do something about Xehanort’s forces? For him to find out more information to pass on to the resistance?

He said he’d tell Riku about the resistance… but he needed to know more about him, too. Demyx was probably a good way to find out more about all this…

That kiss…

He’d known, in an aqueous sort of way, he’d likely have to have an heir at some point, and even for him children didn’t spontaneously come out of thin air. But he’d never thought of how he’d get one, nor imagined marriage, nor even… allowed himself the possibility of fantasy, of being loved. His life was too split, always on the run. How could he settle down? He’d barely had friends, much less a boyfriend or girlfriend, much less a lover-- he had not, prior to those hours on the beach, even kissed --

Kissed, and kissed, and kissed…

He traced the material of his waistband absently. Perhaps Even was right, he had to ignore this impulse.

He felt awake, and a little less alone. Perhaps it was for this reason, but he let his hand slip below the waistband, to feel at skin he normally avoided, to stroke it gently and imagine he was not the one touching it--

He gasped, feeling it break over him, and instead of feeling shame as usual, he instead felt release, felt… hope.

#heartlines #ienzo #demyx #zemyx #even (kingdom hearts) #aeleus #au #soulmates au #alternate universe