#so i can just port in that emotion when i frame human greeting displays like that lol

[creekfiend]

While I'm talking about social stuff I had to learn as an autistic person

There's a LOT of social interactions between human beings whose purpose really boils down to being like that thing dogs do where they go "omg YOU'RE a dog??? I'M a dog!!!!!" And that's not a bad thing. Highly ritualized "meaningless" displays of human connection like friendly greetings and talking about things like weather actually do serve a purpose which is like idk ritualized displays birds do. YOU'RE a human? Omg I'M a human!!!! Wow!!!

And they don't have to be your favorite flavor of interaction. You can even think they're silly. But they DO serve a purpose or else they wouldn't be a thing.

#'why do people ask how you are if they dont want to know' its a ritual display. a lot of things are ritual displays #this helps ME a lot bc in other animals i think ritual greeting displays are cute #so i can just port in that emotion when i frame human greeting displays like that lol

[kronecker-delta]

Farscape Nier crossover and ideas

Snippet (from 2017) Farscape/Nier: Automata --- Her room was a mess. Scattered parts of her uniform and other clothes piled along along the sides, kicked there when she came and went. Her personal books disarrayed, off the shelf and toppled over by her bed. She'd been putting off cleaning again and with the recent arrivals none of the operators could be spared to make up for her bad habits. None of that mattered at the moment. White sat in her chair, staring out into the void. A souvenir of her old days in the ground based resistance held in her hands. The framed picture of pair of androids seated on the still smoldering bulk of the ruined machine behemoth a memory of a simpler, happier time. A knock on her door brought her attention away from melancholy remembrance. Before she could compose herself and more sternly tell whoever had interrupted her what she had meant by 'Only bother me if there's an emergency' another knock issued forth. Followed by a voice. "Hey White? You in there?" She froze. She had so desperately hoped that it wouldn't be him. *** "I've never been here before," White said apologetically as their transport ship came down beside the small lunar outpost. A tiny thing, compared to the bunker. Even given the greater volume underground for secured data storage and backup generators. "No problem. First time I've been on the moon," he said, giving her a reassuring smile that didn't quite manage to look entirely honest. His frown returning as they stepped out of the transport, the boots of his pressured suit crunching into the light dusting of lunar sand that had covered part of the landing pad. "Feels like I should say something... 'Great leap for mankind and all that' you know. Hey, is the Apollo site still around?" "It is. If you want we could visit there Commander Crichton." "Just John... or Crichton. Being called Commander all the time feels weird," John Crichton said. "I know I'm the last human but..." "I-I understand," White answered. Keeping her own emotions deeply locked down as they passed into the fortified complex of the moon server. Past the scant few technicians and guards and into a dark room, nearly empty save for a single console located in the center. A black void engulfed the walls, impenetrable shadows, as the terminals and screens had long laid dormant. "So now what?" His voice echoed in the room, which must have been far larger than they had at first thought. Low clicks and whirs came from the bulk of the machine, the long slumbering physical access port awakening. Lights flashed along the walls and beyond them, racks upon racks of computer systems networked together awakening. A great screen before them coming on and displaying a stylized picture of a tree, long dark roots stretching out from its base. OVERSIGHT AND RECORDING SYSTEM VER. 2.01 SLEEPING BEAUTY ONLINE. CONFIRM USER PERMISSIONS NOW. "Commander White, YoRHa access S-Class security," White said. Looking to her side and adding, "As well as a guest." CONFIRM GUEST'S IDENTITY. "John Crichton, Commander in the IASA," John said. "Born... 1969. June 6th. If that helps any." The computer sat in silence for a long moment, not responding, the screen frozen as the loading bar seemed stuck in time. They shared a look of confusion, both android and human wondering if the ancient archive might have crashed and who was going to have to go out and ask the few technicians to help reboot it. Then the room came alight, a dozen more monitors online, the totality of it awake for the first time in forever. HUMAN IDENTITY CONFIRMED BASED ON HISTORICAL RECORDS. YoRHA S-CLASS SECURITY CLEARANCE SUBSTITUTED FOR UNRESTRICTED SYSTEM ACCESS. S-CLASS, SS-CLASS, AND HAMELIN ORGANIZATION FILES NOW UNLOCKED. GREETINGS COMMANDER JOHN CRICHTON. HOW MAY THIS SYSTEM AID YOU TODAY? "What... what's 'SS-Class?' There shouldn't be a level of security above mine." NEGATIVE. THERE ARE TWO. SS-CLASS, CONTAINING SENSITIVE FILES DEEMED TOO DANGEROUS TO BE KNOWN OUTSIDE OF THE ADMINISTRATIVE COUNCIL. AS WELL AS FILES REGARDING THE HAMELIN ORGANIZATION, WHICH WERE TO BE SEALED UNTIL SUCH A TIME AS A HUMAN USER ACCESSED THIS SYSTEM. "We do this so that the future generations will have the opportunity to judge us for our sins." "Who the hell was that?" John asked, shocked by the computer suddenly vocalizing. Producing the sound of some long dead man. Old and ill, his voice straining to make the words clear into the recording. DR. EUGENE ADLER, HAMELIN RESEARCHER IN DEMONIC ELEMENT MANIPULATION EXPERIMENTS. BY HIS RECOMMENDATION AND THE UN SPECIAL SECURITY COUNCIL'S AUTHORITY IT WAS FELT THAT KNOWLEDGE OF THE HAMELIN ORGANIZATION'S INVESTIGATIONS INTO THE DEMONIC ELEMENT AND THE 6-12 INCIDENT COULD NOT BE PUBLICLY REVEALED UNTIL THE CRISIS HAD PASSED. John looked to White, hoping she might be able to explain something, anything of what the computer had just told them. But she looked just as confused as he did. "Ah... Computer?" YES JOHN CRICHTON? "Define 'demonic element' please." DEMONIC ELEMENT: QUANTUM OBSERVATION REACTING PARTICLES BROUGHT OVER BY THE ENTITIES INVOLVED IN THE 6-12 INCIDENT. TWO VARIETIES WERE DETERMINED UPON FURTHER RESEARCH. TYPE I, WHICH CAME FROM THE ENTITY CLASSIFIED 'QUEEN OF THE GROTESQUE' AMONG NUMEROUS OTHER NAMES ACQUIRED FROM OBSERVATION DATA OF LEGION FORCES AND PRE-SUBLIMATION MEMETIC CORRUPTION OF WHITE CHLORINATION SYNDROME PATIENTS. TYPE I MATERIAL HAS BEEN REMOVED FROM THIS UNIVERSE FOR THE LAST EIGHT THOUSAND YEARS FOLLOWING THE COMPLETE PURGING OF IT FROM THE EARTH'S ENVIRONMENT. TYPE II CAME FROM THE OTHER ENTITY, CLASSIFIED AS 'A DRAGON' NO OTHER NAME OR IDENTITY DETERMINED. WHILE HIGHLY REACTIVE AND DANGEROUS IN LARGE DOSES IT WAS FOUND TO BE STABLE IN SMALL AMOUNTS AND TO LACK THE MALEVOLENT EFFECT ON INTELLIGENT LIFE THAT TYPE I MATERIAL EXHIBITED. EVENTUAL CONTROLLED EXPOSURE AND SYNTHESIS EXPERIMENTS LED TO THE CREATION OF FOCUSED MAGIC ENERGY EFFECTS AND SUBSEQUENT DEVELOPMENTS IN FIELDS OF NEUROLOGY AND META-COGNITION AS WELL AS NUMEROUS OTHERS. PROJECT GESTALT AND ANDROID CONSCIOUSNESS ARE BOTH LONG TERM SUCCESSES OF THIS RESEARCH. HIGH ENERGY MAGIC WEAPONS WERE ALSO ATTEMPTED BUT LATER SHELVED FOR BEING UNRELIABLE. AS OF THIS DATE THE AMOUNT OF TYPE II MATERIAL PRESENT IN THIS UNIVERSE IS ESTIMATED TO BE 63 METRIC TONS, OVER A HUNDRED FOLD INCREASE IN MASS FROM THAT OF THE ORIGINAL ENTITY BROUGHT ABOUT BY CONTINUAL SYNTHESIS AND ITS NECESSITY IN THE CREATION OF NEW ANDROIDS AND ALL CURRENT GENERATION MAGICAL DEVICES. THE ANDROID WHITE HAS 6 GRAMS OF IT AS PART OF THEIR INTERNAL SYSTEMS, MOSTLY RELEGATED TO META-COGNITIVE PROCESSES. "Wait... wait!" John yelled out, grabbing onto the unused console as he stared at the enormous amount of text that had just been displayed. More and more appearing on other monitors, going into greater detail about all sorts of absurd things. "What do you mean by magic? And dragons? What the hell happened to Earth?" THE 6-12 INCIDENT. PLAYING ARCHIVED DATA NOW... *** Crichton sat on the edge of her bed. Looking down at his hands, fingers intertwined. He hadn't spoken since White had stepped aside and ushered him in. Neither had she. She had wanted to be alone, and had hoped that Crichton would choose to spend some time with his alien friends. Or his semi-human lover... "You know, it's kind of funny," he said at last, a low chuckle that surprised White. He truly did sound amused by the dark comedy of his situation. "What?" "Well, when I first realized you were lying about something... after I got over the whole 'android' deal anyway," Crichton said, looking up from his hands to look into White's eyes. "I was so certain that the deep dark secret you were keeping from me was that you all went Terminator on the humans and than got ashamed about it." White found herself smiling despite it all. "I guess I can imagine why you would think that. Even if we don't all look like Central European bodybuilders from the Old World." His expression collapsed, going from amusement to a shock so profound it looked like a stiff breeze would have knocked him over. White found herself confused and then very worried. Had she said something wrong? Then he started to laugh, slow at first, but building into something that bordered on mania. Rolling onto his back and shaking in the hysterics. "Haha... oh god... you have no idea, no goddamn idea how long I've wanted someone to get one of my dumb references," Crichton sat up looking far happier than he had a moment ago, the levity of their absurd connection dispelling the melancholy cloud that had hung over them since their return from the lunar server. "Like I love those idiots on Moya, but being around aliens on the other side of the galaxy for a few years really makes you long for some normal human conversation." "I... I think I can understand. Somewhat. It must have been very lonely out there." "Lonely, terrifying, insane... beautiful too. Space is crazy like that. Full of contrasts so sharp it's stunning. I-I wanted to bring that back you know? Not just to get home, but to show what I had found out there," he said, pointing to the stars outside White's window. "I guess it's too late for that now." "I'm sorry," White said. Noting the strange look that Crichton was giving her now she hesitated before continuing. "I'm sorry we failed." "Failed? Failed at what? Stopping a magic apocalypse that had already started before the first androids came online? Which reminds me, we're going to need to do something about them later. Those twin models that someone had the bright idea to shoulder with some fucked up version of android collective punishment." Crichton leaned forward, massaging his forehead as he did so. "That's probably only the tip of the bullshit you're dealing with and here I come with a whole new mess of problems. Maybe it would have been better if I had never found Earth." "No! Crichton you-we can fix things. I know we can. Not just your presence here or for getting access to sealed archives in the server. The technology you brought with you. It very well might represent a turning point in the war with the machines." "And what about the Sebaceans... the Peacekeepers? The Scarren Empire? Or hell, even the Nebari Establishment? Better gravity control systems and two hundred year old ship scale energy shields won't stop a fleet if it comes knocking at our door." "We'll do what we always have. Try and protect Earth and mankind's legacy from any aggressor. Whether distant cousins that no longer remember their home-world like the Sebaceans... or these Scarrens you've mentioned so much. We won't- we cannot retreat from this fight. Not now." White clenched her fist tightly, the glove creaking as she set a firm expression on her face. "I promise you Crichton, even if the past is lost, we will make a future worth fighting for." Ideas: I've been thinking over the ideas of a Farscape/Nier crossover some more, coming up with elements, themes, and specific scenes that would be fun to explore and write. These are some of the ideas I've had in no particular order. 1. Androids in relation to the Last Human (Crichton). Crichton is a self-admitted sci-fi geek, not surprising for a second generation astronaut that grew up wanting to explore the stars. He straight up makes comparisons to how he attempts to handle alien encounters to be inspired from watching Star Trek. Given that I think his relation to the androids would develop in a certain direction. Once the initial shock of a) the amount of time passed and b) that these people he thought were human aren't passes, he wouldn't feel comfortable having an intelligent race acting subordinate to him. I can see multiple incidents where some variety of complex philosophical quandary or just plain relationship question from 6O results in him telling them that humans really didn't have a better answer. Long term this would likely take the form of a very serious conversation where he points out that Earth, and what of its culture and history still lives, isn't in just human, whether the dead ones or genetically altered human descended Sebaceans. Or even in any hypothetical offspring that he might have. Basically, 'Mankind' includes them, as they're what's keeping the memory of it all alive. Aside from some bonding scenes between various androids and Crichton as they go over bits of alien tech, one idea I have in particular is that he takes a tour of moon landing sites, including the one his father visited. Effectively the only place he will ever see any lasting evidence of that man in particular. And the reaction of his android guide (White perhaps?) as well as the Apollo 11 plaque cements his decision to change the way the androids view their relation with humans, at least in so much as he can. 2. 2B and 9S (and others perhaps). I think there's a lot of fun to be had in placing the androids into weird situations with the aliens, and even more so if for some reason they have to head off away from Earth for a period of time. Since I can easily see the plan being for them to lie constantly. Lie about being human, lie about the 'Glorious Terran Federation' which is totally a military power that we didn't just make up, lie about what they're capable of, lies upon lies as they try and deceive the Scarrens and the Peacekeepers and keep Earth safe from either side those aggressive powers. In general I think 'Androids pretend to be human to deceive aliens' is a good plot for lots of stories, and could easily be turned into a rather long plot. Since the androids wouldn't want to let Crichton head off to parley with these alien aggressors on his own. And he could really use all the help he can get for whatever crazy ass plot he comes up with next. 3. Aliens would want Android tech. Probably just Scorpius, but others too if they find out more about Earth. I hadn't realized it at the time, but there was a period of the show where the hybrid Scarren-Sebacean was working with Crichton, and that would be the perfect opportunity for him to learn something about the androids and Earth history. And being him, he would look at all this extra-dimensional BS and android super soldiers and see potential weapons. He'd probably be disappointed that the Queen's Maso wasn't around anymore and that Hamelin Organization stopped human testing after Emil, since it would mean he'd be working from scratch if he could just get back into the good graces of the Peacekeepers and do so with enough of the demonic element to set up another research base. Hell, he'd probably try to directly convince Crichton get the androids to agree to serve the Peacekeepers, since that would technically put them back into contact with 'humans' if genetically engineered ones. Arguing that he could get the entire remaining population of Earth a ticket off world (to a nice Peacekeeper controlled colony where the can serve their new military overlords) if destroying the machine lifefroms proved to difficult even with a few starships to blast them from orbit. 4. The Terminals. The central intelligence of the machine lifeforms would likely reconsider its direction of evolution far earlier with a living human to observe, especially one that tries so hard to avoid aggressive resolutions. Even if that doesn't work, Crichton's crew and allies proves that he has managed to connect and form lasting bonds with entirely alien beings over and over. A direct repudiation of what the machine network had thus far found to be the fastest way to accelerate its own growth. Whether this would lead to a quicker conclusion that it needs to escape Earth and find its own destiny, likely expedited by FTL tech it took from the androids once Crichton revealed it to them, or an attempt at some kind of allegiance against the various hostile powers of the greater galaxy is unknown. While I can easily see Pascal and various pacifistic or non-hostile machine lifeforms being taken into account as potential allies the actions of the terminals past and potentially present would form a barrier to attempted cooperation. 5. Allying with the Worm Hole Ancients. The aliens that gave John Crichton knowledge about worm holes in the first place did so because they were running from an unstated catastrophe that had destroyed their home world. They originally decided against direct contact with Earth because it was likely to be divided and hostile. 21st century Earth that doesn't exist outside of Crichton's memories. It would be very interesting to see how they might react to finding out the new status quo. I've got a couple ideas that might be fun with them. One being that their dimension/time traveling tech lead to them accidentally creating their own personal Watcher related incident and the subsequent self-inflicted annihilation of their home world to stop it from spreading to the greater portion of the galaxy. Creating a situation where despite their far greater technological adeptness they find a reason to deeply respect humans/androids for facing down and defeating what they truthfully could not, reclaiming their world instead of burning it and running. (Though I'm iffy on that alteration/crossover expansion as it sort of makes them more like the Stargate's Asgard.)

#farscape #nier automata #fanfic idea

[traditional-with-a-twist]

xvii. Beauty and Her Beast

<<Previous || first arc || AO3 || Next>>

Obi is waiting for her when she returns.

He unfolds like a cat from among the flowers, sauntering over to greet his mistress--and like an animal, he scents at once that something is wrong.

His next step cancels the distance between them. He places himself at her side as he always has, ever since entering the royal service--but this time, things are different.

Enough has changed between them that now, when his hand moves, he allows the movement to follow through to its natural conclusion. 

One fingertip extends, reaches, and comes to rest on her elbow.

...

She turns her face up to his.

“Obi,” she says, but his name sounds like a question.

“Yes,” he answers her simply, unhesitating, even as the vertebrae of his spine lock together, fusing him into one long line of tension.

He keeps his voice light as he adds, in obedience to her wishes, the four syllables long denied to him: “Shirayuki.”

The lines between her eyebrows ease. Her hand makes an absent, seeking gesture; it comes to rest in a loose hold on his sleeve.

...

Shirayuki has never found it easy to voice her concerns.

Even now, though she plans to tell Obi, wants to hear what he thinks, hopes he can reassure her -- she hesitates.

Obi has never found it easy to guess her thoughts, but he’s willing to try if it will help her to put them in words.

“Something amiss at the pharmacy?” he begins, a moderate opening sally in case it won’t take more than a gentle nudge. 

His hand has advanced on its determined path to nearness with her; he cradles her elbow in his palm now.

“Oh--n-no, they’re all doing well--I mean, Yatsufusa…” She bites her lips.

Obi zeroes in on the clue. “Did he say something to you?”

“Yes, but it wasn’t…”

...

She didn’t know quite how to explain it. She didn’t quite understand it.

She hadn’t expected it.

When she burst into the office, hair flying, eyes shining, the message delivered by Higata clutched in her hand, she was half-wild with excitement.

The message was such good news, so long-awaited, too much to keep to herself. She wanted to celebrate, to give thanks, to rejoice with someone who must be equally relieved and delighted that Garrack and Ryuu were coming home.

...

Immediately after the war’s conclusion, the Chief Pharmacist had received orders to suspend her regular duties in deference to the critical conditions overwhelming the hospitals in the port town.

She and her protegee had departed at the head of a wagon train, overseeing the shipment of supplies that Shirayuki, Obi, and all the regular staff had helped prepare.

Official reports with terse updates on their progress provided evidence that they continued alive and well, but no personal correspondence accompanied these missives.

There had been no word of when they would return, until now.

...

Shirayuki was too happy to speak; she only waved the letter and beamed at Yatsufusa.

What words could describe the enormity of her feelings? She has been so alone, so out of place, and now so happy... At last one of the roving thoughts escapes her: 

“They’ll be back in time for the wedding!”

...

Yatsufusa wasn’t a man given to emotional displays. 

He had received the princess with the quiet equanimity typical of his character: Below his perpetually hidden eyes, his mouth creased in a slight sign of the pleasure he shared with her.

At this pronouncement, the smile vanished.

It was true, then.

...

He had wanted to dismiss Higata’s frantic, half-articulate tale as mistaken or at least misapprehending. 

Now there was no choice but to believe it.

Garrack always found a way to foist her work off on him, he reflected. Even from a distance.

...

“Your highness…”

Shirayuki looked quizzical, then a light dawned. Oh, yes. He meant her. She answered with a hesitant smile, looking her question.

Yatsufusa cleared his throat. “With regard to your...wedding…”

She colored prettily.

As gently as he would inspect a wound for infection, he asked whether she had considered what was customary?

Customary, she repeated, wondering.

Yes, customary. Had she considered that, as the bereaved intended of a second prince, she must honor the Wisteria royal family in her choice of a future husband?

...

The message vanished into folds of white as Shirayuki’s hands wound into her skirts. “Honor?” she repeated faintly.

“Honor...or dishonor.” Yatsufusa felt the cruelty of his task, but he set to it as he would set a bone.

“It would be--more correct, for you to marry someone of noble lineage, your highness.”

...

Shirayuki was not a politically-minded person. 

Before she met Zen, her thinking rarely bothered with questions beyond her intimate circle, what concerned the people she knew personally, and those challenges and dangers that immediately involved their lives. 

Befriending a prince had necessarily changed that. 

Now the problems impacting her friends were problems of state: dilemmas and dangers that convened councils and kept kings awake at night.

In some curious way, Shirayuki hadn’t felt the difference. For Kihal and the Yuris Island birds, for instance, she had diagnosed and prescribed a solution the same way she would have treated a patient.

The diplomatic implications added different dimensions, rendered the occasion more solemn, but otherwise affected not at all her desire to help, or her determination to make things right.

...

The problem confronting her now cast long shadows in Shirayuki’s mind, precisely because of the political terms with which Yatsufusa had framed it. 

An obscure implication of duty now jutted from the mists to threaten her bid for a safe harbor. None of her mental maps--all drawn on the scale of human relationships--could afford her any guidance.

She didn’t know what to do.

...

Uncertainty chills rapidly into fear, for someone accustomed to operating with a driving sense of purpose.

By the time Shirayuki reached Obi, her stomach felt tight, her throat closed. Her skirts weighed on her, though she had worn them lightly just an hour before.

As she recounted the story, her head had sunk lower and lower; now she confesses to her shoes: “I never thought about it that way before.”

...

A snort startles her. Her head jerks up.

Obi’s eyes crinkle. “A noble family, huh? That’s the problem?”

Shirayuki blinks at him, bemused. “I...think so?”

...

Interwoven with her doubts about the future lurked a nervousness verging on panic that something in what she had said might prove harmful for Obi. 

She flinched at the thought of handing him a bundle spiked with invisible needles, something that might cut into him before she realized what was wrong.

He didn’t look as if he were in pain, though. If anything, he looked amused.

...

“I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you,” Obi says airily. He looks past her, so tall and so near that she can’t see into his eyes.

“But will there be trouble if--if we… I mean…” Her fingers tightened on his sleeve. “What can we…”

“Sorry, mi--Shirayuki. There’s nothing we can do about my birth.” 

Obi barks a laugh. “If someone has a problem with that, he’ll have to complain to the people responsible for it.”

His palm slides up her arm, his thumb tracing a soothing circle against her shoulder.

Shirayuki smiled uncertainly. Fear lost its grip in the face of this levity, but instead she was baffled. What was so funny?

Why was he laughing?

#Akagami no Shirayukihime #obiyuki #PurePassion #Beauty and Her Beast #poor Yatsufusa #shoehorned into being the bad guy #if only he could read your reviews #he might feel better #they made me smile! #and brightened my day #<3

[kpopfanfictrash]

Deals and Darkness

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jongin (Kai)

Genre: Angst / vampire!AU

Prompt: “Quit it or I’ll bite.”

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 2,084

It’s unusual for a woman of your age and circumstance to be involved in such things. Unusual for a woman to be involved in negotiating at all, of course.

The reason for your father’s success, the reason he’s referred to as the King of Ports is because of you. You’re his secret weapon, his ace in the hole, though your father would be loathe to admit this to anyone out loud. That’s the beauty of your identity. No one would ever expect you to be the threat.

That is, until you face them across a table.

It’s late, nearly ten’o’clock as you walk through the streets of the city. Heels loud on cobblestones beneath the swinging folds of your skirts. Your manservant, Charles keeps pace to your right, though you don’t really have need of him. You’re perfectly capable of defending yourself. In this day and age though, people are suspicious of a woman traveling alone after nightfall.

Your fingers tighten against the lining of your dress. Lips pressed in a firm line as you arrive on the doorstep of your destination. 3444 Blackwood Alley. Raising your hand, you knock once on the rather ornate-looking door.

In the ensuing silence, you scan the street. This place is mostly empty, nearly deserted. Normally this would make you suspicious, but tonight you just nod. This only serves to confirm your suspicions about the mysterious man inside.

The door opens. No creak or warning before the entrance hall gapes before you. An inscrutable man greets you, bowing slightly while backing away from the threshold. “Good evening, Miss.” When he looks up, he smiles. The gesture doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Master is expecting you.”

Your nose wrinkles stepping across his threshold, and you wave for Charles to lower the umbrella. Master. You heard Kim Jongin likes to be called this. Master of all Trades, Master of all Things but especially secrets. Dealing in the shadowy depths of night, there are few who can actually boast at having seen Kim Jongin’s face. Fewer still who are willing to talk about it. You assume this is due to a deformity or abrasion of some sort.

This particular meeting took ages to arrange, and now that you’re here it’s difficult to quell your nerves. The servant holds out his arm when you enter, indicating for you to drop your coat. You do so, taking care to remove both gloves and hat as well. Slowly, you incline your head in a smile.

Your items are placed in the back of a hall closet. You take the opportunity to scan the room, noting that the floor is hewn from black marble. Polished so that you see your reflection below as you look away, staring up at the chandelier above. It’s delicate silver spindles reaching towards a roof hidden by shadows.

The man before you clears his throat. “This way, Miss.” When you walk forward, he holds up a hand. Staring pointedly at the manservant behind you. “Without him,” he amends.

This gives you pause. Your father specifically instructed Charles to remain by your side. Kim Jongin is unknown and potentially dangerous. Then again, your father also demanded you make this deal. Staring this man in the eyes now, you see that bringing Charles will be something of a deal breaker.

Slowly, you wave for your manservant to step backwards. “Wait here,” you say, giving him a glance he knows better than to argue with. Charles nods, stepping back in the shadowy entrance of the foyer.

The servant nods, satisfied by this. “Follow me.”

He leads you through a long, narrow hall. Past portraits lining the walls in half-shrouded drapes, the rest of them hidden by dust. It looks as though the place hasn’t been used in some time – something you know happens to be the case. Master Kim travels often. He hasn’t been seen in these parts for some time now.

Which is why this meeting needed to be tonight. The sound of your heels on the floor is loud, the only noise to mar otherwise silence. When you arrive at the end of the hall you find a door. Intricate carvings embedded in the mahogany, the only decoration to an otherwise remarkable entryway.

Kim Jongin is wealthy. That much is obvious - the fabric covering the portraits is of highest quality, the paintings themselves made with oil, weighty in frames of gold. Your eyes see all of this, assessing cost before coming back to the door before you.

A door which the servant slowly opens, gesturing for you to step inside. 

“Will you come with?” you ask, curious.

The man shakes his head no, keeping his expression blank. “The Master requested to see you alone.”

Though you pause, you incline your head. Stepping forward and passing the man. “Understood,” you say, listening to the doors close behind you.

The sound is softer than you thought it’d be, so you take another step forward. The air is cooler than outside, as though there’s a draft somewhere nearby. It’s also dark, darker than expected as you squint. Cool stones arch overhead, far enough away that you can’t see their top. You stop walking, leveling your gaze with the shadows before you.

“Hello?” Your voice echos on stone. Someone chuckles, the noise smooth and calm. Cocking your head to the side, you remain unamused by this intimidation tactic. “Are you going to stay hidden,” you sigh, “or shall we conduct our business in the light?”

There’s a pause. “It’s not customary for people to see me.” 

The man’s voice is smooth, even and you blink at the emotions stirred by it’s accent. “It’s not customary for me to call on clients this late. We all do things we don’t want, Mr. Kim.”

The disembodied voice laughs, the sounds of footsteps following from somewhere before you. A shape shifts in far-off shadows. “Client?” he asks, sounding amused. “I was under the impression you came to offer me business.”

“On the contrary.” A small smile crosses your lips. “I came to offer you an opportunity.”

“Opportunity?”  His voice drifts closer. “From a human?” As though he’s not one. “What could you possibly offer me?”

“Money.” You keep your eyes trained on the shadow.

He makes a noise of dismissal. “Why would I need that? I’m wealthy beyond your wildest imaginings.”

“Contacts, then,” you say, unrattled by his disinterest. Everyone is disinterested at first. Until you find the thing that they want. “We have many businesses on this sea and the next.”

“Ah, but I have businesses all over the world.”

You blink, but manage to continue. “Gold, then. Or jewels, fabrics, spices. Drugs, alcohol… women.” 

The last three make your eyes narrow. If he accepts those, you’ll have to deal with Master Kim in a certain way. You would still do business, of course. If there’s one thing your father has taught you, it’s to refuse business to no one. You’ll just need to put certain precautions in place, depending on which of the three items Kim Jongin is interested in.

Chuckling lightly, he steps into the light. His face is still shadowed so you can’t see his expression, but at last you see his form. He’s tall, thin, dressed in an all-black suit. His dark hair is pushed from his face and he holds his arms loosely behind his back. 

He cocks his head to one side, observing. “None of those interest me either.”

“Then what?” you ask, struggling to control your frustration. “Why bring me here if I have nothing you desire?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Kim Jongin takes another step forward. At last, you see his face. Only years of meeting with the worst kinds of people enables you to keep your composure. All that shows on your face is a slight widening of the eyes. An even smaller intake of breath.

The man’s eyes are a startling, brilliant shade of red.

Kim Jongin smiles at your shock, displaying pointed tips of teeth. “You do have something I desire, lady.”

“I’m not a lady.” You say this automatically, unsure why you don’t feel like running when he takes another step closer. “Though you’re welcome to call me as such.”

Kim Jongin is beautiful – that much is undeniable. Skin golden, lips full, cheekbones high and smooth. Despite the crimson color of his eyes, they’re unnaturally lovely. Enticing in their vividness.

He laughs at your words, the sound of it clear and bright. “I asked you here because I wanted to meet you,” he says, sounding sincere. “Not because I am interested in any of your father’s business dealings.”

“Me?” You’re taken aback when Jongin moves another pace closer. He’s within reach now, close enough for you to reach out and touch if you wanted. Not that you want to. “Why would you want to meet me?”

“I’m interested in things of value,” Jongin confesses, eyes gleaming. “Unique things, one of a kind things and you strike me as unique. A girl, barely a woman, running her father’s business in the dead of night. Sent alone to meet with the Master of Shadows.” His eyes dance before you. “This, despite my rather unsavory reputation.”

“I didn’t come alone,” you counter, unable to remove your eyes from his gaze.

Jongin’s lips curl to reveal those two pointed teeth. “You’re alone right now.”

Not for the first time, the word crosses your mind. You thought the word when you first came here, though at the time you thought the word Vampire ludicrous. Something overheard by a friend of a friend in a tavern. The intelligence you had stated that this Master of Shadows, this Keeper of Night, this Dealer of Swords and Promises was an immortal being.

You scoffed at it before but now - you stare. Vampire.

Faced with the crimson eyes and teeth, you cannot deny the obvious. Your gaze is bold staring back at him, refusing to cover your fascination. Jongin seems to appreciate this, tilting to consider you as well.

“You are not afraid,” he muses. 

“Should I be?” 

In a flash, Jongin stands before you. His movement filled with inhuman grace. Your eyes widen, and you find yourself looking up at him. Head tilted back until you’re staring directly into his eyes. 

Finally, his gaze flickers. Moving to your collarbone.

Keeping your eyes steady, you tilt your head. Exposing your neck and watching for a reaction – any reaction. You know you’re testing him, know you’re playing with fire but can’t help it. You need to know just how dangerous this creature really is.

Jongin’s lips rise, a semblance of a smile. “I would stop testing me,” he breathes, gaze drifting to yours. “Quit it, or I’ll bite.”

Immediately, you straighten. “So this is what you’re after? My blood?”

With another chuckle, Jongin moves backwards. “It’s not so simple,” he muses. “I take it you want my company to do business with your father’s?”

You nod, since you don’t trust your words. Kim Jongin’s statement from earlier continues to run through your mind. It’s more than a little troubling that you’re not entirely turned off by it. Quit it, or I’ll bite. 

Rather than repulse you, you feel a rather dangerous itch to step forward. An itch you shove deep within yourself, choosing instead the instinct of self-preservation.

Kim Jongin stares at you, exhaling softly. “I will agree to this on one condition.”

Finding your voice, you manage to blink back. “What condition is that?”

Jongin steps forward. Stopping before you to gently trail his index finger over your jawline. “I want to get to know you better,” he smiles, watching your reaction.

The moments tick by. Maybe seconds, possibly minutes, could be years which pass. This is dangerous. Kim Jongin screams risk, peril and blood with every line in his hardened body. Your heart pounds at the thought of being so close to him - a sound you know he hears.

And yet. 

You haven’t risen to where you are now by playing safe. Steeling yourself for your answer, you remember that you said you’d do whatever it took to get this deal. It doesn’t matter how much your pulse races. Doesn’t matter that this fire is licking you from inside out. You care nothing about the weight of this man’s gaze on yours.

“Yes,” you say, your answer soft. “I accept your condition.”

“Excellent.” Jongin’s smile broadens. “We have a deal.”

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