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mercerislandbooks · 3 years

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For the Love of the Rom-com

While I read across genres in the Young Adult section, I have a soft spot in my heart for the rom-com. Though this genre might come across as light and fluffy, in actuality the form is able to take on topics as varied as mental health, identity, immigration, racism, and grief, to name only a few. Sure there’s romance, escapism, and happy endings, but what kept me picking up one YA rom-com after another in the last month was the window into the lives of each protagonist. More than ever I’m seeing #ownvoices authors tell stories that reflect their particular experience with the characters that they hadn’t seen in novels as young people. In turn I get a glimpse into a life different than my own and subsequently widen my world view. Here’s a collection of some of my recent reads!

Counting Down With You by Tashie Bhuiyan

The debut novel from this Bangladeshi American author (and the first novel I’ve read by a Bangladeshi American) takes the fake dating trope and turns it into a thoughtful exploration of expectations across cultures. Karina Ahmed is a high school junior buckling under the weight of Bangladeshi parental expectations and coping with anxiety largely on her own. They want her to be a doctor. She secretly longs to be an English teacher. When her parents take a month-long trip back to Bangladesh, leaving Karina and her younger brother in the care of their grandmother, Karina is looking forward to a much needed break. But her quiet month is almost immediately disrupted when, through a series of circumstances, she is roped into pretending to be Ace Clyde’s girlfriend, Midland High School’s bad boy. As the two slowly get to know, appreciate, and, of course, fall for each other, they also encourage and call out each other’s strengths. Bhuiyan movingly portrays the complex experience of a Bangladeshi American female teen, trying to meet the expectations of her more traditional parents, navigate managing her anxiety, dealing with the double standard of her gender within her culture, and learning to stand in her own power.

Tokyo Ever After by Emiko Jean

Given this cover, I expected something totally different from what the pages held. The main character of this “lost princess found” novel is anything but sweet and demure, the impression I had from the cover. Japanese American Izumi (Izzy) Tanaka is living her best average life with her single mother in the small Northern California town of Mt. Shasta. When she finds out that her previously unknown father is actually the crown prince of Japan, her world turns upside down. Once this knowledge goes public, Izzy is whisked away to Japan to get to know her father and become acquainted with the rest of her family. Having always felt out of place as one of the few minorities in her town, Izzy is hopeful that she’ll finally find a place where she belongs. But life at court is more complicated than Izzy can imagine, and she finds that in Japan she’s too “American.” Izzy’s voice is suffused with humor, so even as she struggles to fit in, her inner monologue made me laugh out loud. A slow burn romance with a hot bodyguard, backstabbing cousins, and relentless paparazzi shenanigans only add to the delicious fun. There’s talk of a sequel in 2022!

Better Than The Movies by Lynn Painter

The premise of girl uses boy next door, with whom she (seemingly) shares a mutual dislike, to get to the boy she crushed on in childhood that has just moved back to town manages to squeeze in a slew of rom-com tropes with witty breeziness. Liz makes a deal with boy next door Wes that she will relinquish the parking spot they feud over daily if he will help her get a date to Prom with childhood crush Michael. Of course it ends up being more complicated than that. Liz is confident and comfortable in her own quirky skin, but is also still dealing with the grief of losing her mother, which seems to be hitting her more sharply as all the “lasts” of senior year are happening. Spending time with Wes in her efforts to get close to Michael, Liz realizes that maybe she doesn’t hate him as much as she thought she did. Movie lovers will appreciate that each chapter is headed by quotes from the rom-coms that Liz obsesses over. I appreciated the balance of snarky banter with an honest portrayal of the complicated relationship Liz has with her grief.

Love in English by Maria E. Andrew

I’d been meaning to read Love in English for months and finally picked it up. Ana and her mother have recently moved to New Jersey from Argentina to join her father, who’s been living in the United States for some time. In Argentina, Ana thought her English was pretty good, but finds that navigating high school in America is a daily struggle in understanding her classmates and teachers. Andrew uses blocks of ##### to show the parts of conversations Ana misses, drawing the reader into her confusion and frustration. Reading this novel, I was reminded of when my family hosted a Japanese exchange student in high school, and the hours she spent translating her homework from English to Japanese. Reading what it was like for Ana, I had a glimpse into what it might have been like for Miki, and it made me admire her, and all the people who come to the United States not knowing the language. I’m certainly not proficient in any other language than English. The short chapters are interspersed with Ana’s handwritten ESL journal entries, musings on the confusions of the English language and poems that play with varieties of word meanings. Ana is attracted to a cute boy in her math class, Harrison, but also bonds with fellow ESL student Neo, who is from Greece. While romance is a central thread in the story, what I found most compelling was the portrayal of what it’s like to live in a place where the ability to communicate and comprehend is limited. Ana’s perseverance and curiosity in the face of that challenge is inspiring.

The Quantum Weirdness of the Almost-Kiss by Amy Noelle Parks

Last but not least I decided to continue my theme of YA rom-coms in my current audiobook and cued up The Quantum Weirdness of the Almost-Kiss. Set at an elite boarding school for math and science prodigies, this is a dual POV narrative Evie and Caleb, best friends since childhood. Evie is one of the few females at their prestigious school, and excels in math and physics, but hasn’t shown any interest in the opposite sex until new guy Leo catches her eye - with his physics proof. When Evie decides romance might be worth exploring with Leo, Caleb has to figure out how to be supportive, despite the fact that he himself is also secretly in love with Evie. Alternating chapters between Caleb and Evie’s POV mean that we get to see what’s going on internally for both of them as Evie embarks on her first relationship with Leo, Evie and Caleb team up for a national physics competition, and the course of love takes twists and turns. While there is plenty of swoony romance, I also loved the way that Evie has grown to learn to live with her anxiety and how she sets the boundaries she needs to take care of herself while also pushing herself beyond her comfort zone. Parks does an excellent job of making the all the math and physics approachable for the layperson.

There are many more YA rom-coms to choose from in the Teen section, so stop by and see what catches your eye!

— Lori

#island books #lori robinson #ya romcom #counting down with you #tashie bhuiyan #ownvoices #tokyo ever after #emiko jean #better than the movies #lynn painter #love in english #maria e andrew #the quantum weirdness of the almost-kiss #amy noelle parks #summer reading #librofm

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candychronicles · 4 years

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bodyguard // s. todoroki

A/N: my take on the rockstar/band/performer au for bnharem! i’m not a big fan of au’s normally but this one was a lot of fun to write! todoroki is definitely ooc in this one but i took a lot of liberties with his character in order to better fit the au storyline.

CHARACTER PAIRING: Todoroki Shouto x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5,091

WARNINGS: mentions of blood, gore, fighting, death, oral sex (f!receiving)

SYNOPSIS: you were in it for the money, he was an unhinged popstar. how could you two ever possibly get along?

want to read more rocking stories? click HERE !

the days at work were tiring, the nights even longer, but the pay was good and it was always satisfying to make a grown man cry as you knocked him to his knees and manhandled him away from your client.

Todoroki Shouto, one of the elite, the famed, the rich, and absolutely fucking annoying. sure, he was hot (anyone with an eye could see that) but he was just like everyone else in his industry: a cocky bastard. you didn’t mind his lifestyle too much except when it interfered with his job, like having to pry off whiny people who clung to him like their life depended on it, and for some, it probably did.

his biggest claim to fame was being in a now wildly famous band, namely the main singer. he was charming with a sultry voice and a personality that oozed confidence but he wasn’t always that way. in fact, he was originally a shy, anxiety ridden teen when he first joined, not sure how to use his voice or deal with people coming up to him in the streets. the life he lived was sheltered before that, training under his dad to take over the family business, but when sweet, innocent Todoroki confessed that he much rather be artsy and sing at the age of sixteen, things quickly changed for him. his father, Todoroki Enji, tried to convince him otherwise, told him that he didn’t know how the real world worked and that he would never be successful, but Shouto wouldn’t budge and eventually Enji caved in, or so it seemed.

Enji immediately enrolled Shouto in lessons, instructing him to shape up or ship out. if he couldn’t become successful in the industry, he would take over his father’s business instead, but that didn’t happen. Shouto excelled in lessons, blowing his instructors away with his timbre and control. he was a natural, and frankly, good enough to be a star. they weren’t so concerned with his stoic yet endearing personality. they had broken enough pop stars, molded them to be perfect model citizens, so what was one more?

the plan backfired immensely. as Shouto’s talent grew, Enji seeked out the biggest in the game, convincing them to give his son a chance at stardom. while reluctant, the board agreed, not wanting to piss off one of the most powerful men in Japan but were thoroughly surprised at the fact that his kid didn’t suck at all. in fact, he was actually good, really, really good.

they signed him immediately, whisking him away into the life of fame and fortune at the young age of seventeen. his range, the slight rasp to his tone and the ability to reach into somebody's soul and pluck the very feelings they try to hide so deeply from it’s depths pushed him towards the life of a rockstar. the freedom he had never been able to experience living at home pushed him over the edge and spiraled him out of control.

Todoroki drank, smoked, and fucked his way through cities big and small, getting himself into a lot of trouble along the way. the behavior went on for years, only getting worse as time went on. nobody seemed to be able to get control over the boy with the pretty hair and wild scar. after almost killing several women and one of his bandmates in a drunk driving accident, his team, label, and most importantly his father had enough.

the conversation between the two did not go well. Shouto was now an adult, legally free and clear from his father’s power. he had his own money, enough to live comfortably for awhile, even if he dropped the band, and all of the repressed rage, longing and anger that was pent up from his childhood. he was not stopping his lifestyle for anyone. that was, until you came along.

you were always a scrapper, getting yourself in trouble more times than you could count. it was just in your nature to defend those who couldn’t defend themselves and you spent many days on the playground beating up the bullies who picked on the sweet girl braiding flowers into her hair, or the boy who liked to play with baby dolls instead of trucks.

as you got older, your fights got fewer and farther in between, at least when it came to the public.

when you turned sixteen and kicked some kid who was trying to look up your skirt so hard in the chin that he saw stars, you were approached by a few men who slid you a card and told you if you wanted to make money fighting, come meet them.

you were a dumb kid and instead of running in the opposite direction and telling the police, you showed up at the seemingly dingy door behind the alley of a fairly run down ramen restaurant. knocking on the door and rocking back on your heels, you waited to see what would happen. it took a few seconds before a panel slid open, allowing you to see nothing but someone’s eyes peering at you in the mid-afternoon sun. hesitantly, you raised the business card in your hand, showing it to the person and jumping in surprise as the panel slammed shut and the door creaked open, inviting you in.

you nodded your head politely at who you realized was a rather bulky, burly man, before a woman dressed in a silky black dress plucked the card delicately from your hand and led you through the hallway. when she opened the door, you were taken aback by the scene.

people of all shapes and sizes stood cheering as two rather muscular men fought in an arena across the room. spit and blood flew across the floor as the two pummeled each other over and over again before one tapped out, the other man raising his fist in the air in victory. you stood, gaze fixed on the scene in front of you, blood racing at the thought of you being in the ring.

“addicting, isn’t it?” the woman whispered in your ear, a knowing smile on her face before she gently took you by the sleeve and guided you away from the screams and shouts into a private room that was much quieter.

you sat down in front of a man who was rather tall and thin, graying hair across his head and a clean shaven face.

“so, i heard you’re a good fighter. how good do you think you are?”

“uh-” you stuttered, not sure how to respond, “i think i can kick someone’s ass if i have a reason to.”

“is money a good enough reason for you?”

“money is a nice reward, yeah, yeah it is,” you confirmed, not pondering the question over for a second.

“good, you start on Saturday. come in comfy clothes that you won’t mind getting sweaty and dirty in. you’re my new ace, a secret weapon. give it six months time and you’ll be defeating guys like that out there in seconds.”

and defeat you did. over and over again, men, women, anyone who thought they were better than you were defeated by your own fists. you worked hard and then some, through literal sweat, blood and tears, to reach the status of champion of the underworld by the age of eighteen.

you were a wild card, unpredictable in your stature. you didn’t have hulking muscles and a sturdy frame, but what you did have was speed, the element of surprise, and the ability to calculate in a split second, all of which allowed you to defeat your enemies time and time again. this relative victory didn’t come without your share of sacrifices: hiding the bruises, blackened eyes and bloody lips from your family as you trained relentlessly, having to figure out a way to manage the steady flow of income that started coming your way as you fought in your first official matches, defeat after defeat as you trained, chipping a tooth and having it promptly filled in like nothing happened, having to learn how to disarm and fire a gun, work with knives and most importantly, losing a bit of your empathy along the way.

it came as no surprise when people who were much more powerful and much, much richer started taking an interest in you, placing large bets upon your head at some of the higher staked matches, a feat you worked your way up to after many years. you never failed to disappoint, knowing that these fights were the ones that mattered the most, the ones that brought you, and your boss, the biggest pools of money.

it was at one of these fights on a dreary, rainy night that you met Todoroki Enji, a hulking man that failed to intimidate you. you were used to people his size and bigger thinking he could take advantage of someone like you and it only made you chuckle thinking of how easy it would be to have him on his knees in seconds.

“i’ve made a proposal to your boss that he couldn’t refuse. he said he couldn’t and wouldn’t force you to do anything, but since you’re quite motivated by money, i think you’ll be intrigued by my offer,” he started, sitting down next to you in one of the VIP booths, sliding his business card on the table with a sly smile.

you were interested and entertained him, listening to him ramble about his shitty kid and his bad behavior. amused, you sipped on your drink as you absorbed his rants and whines about the negative reputation his kid was creating for himself, how he abused his freedom and power to the fullest extent and how his life was spiraling out of control.

“what does this have to do with me, exactly?” you finally questioned, setting your drink down and turning to face him, eyes met squarely with his own.

“i’d like to hire you to be his personal bodyguard.”

“sounds like he needs a babysitter, not a bodyguard,” you retorted, getting ready to stand up and move away from this blathering idiot.

when he spit out a number so outrageous, however, you sat back down, now thoroughly intrigued by the situation at hand. satisfied that he had your full attention, he went into details, laying down a fairly thin stack of papers in front of you as you listened to every detail.

“so let me get this straight. i’m to be his personal bodyguard, keep his shitty behavior a little more under control, whip him up into shape sort of situation. that’s it? and i’ll get paid that much for being a glorified babysitter?”

“you will have to protect him, of course. there are some crazy fans out there that climb windows, seduce themselves into his bed, stalk him, chase him down, but i don’t think it’s anything that, with your expertise, you can’t handle.”

you continued to ponder the situation before gesturing him to continue with his story. he rambled for another moment or two before picking up the papers and going over them with you: standard non-disclosure agreements, a detailed list of your job description and a contract agreement that he was subleasing you through your boss.

after a few minutes of reading the contracts over and discussing them with your boss, you agreed to the scenario, locking yourself into what would be a rather entertaining six months.

the first time you met Todoroki, he instantly tried to hit on you, but when his hand lowered down to grab your ass, you had him on his knees with his left hand behind his back before he could even blink. after that encounter, your conversations were curt. he knew what you were here for and he wasn’t about to let you get his way.

what he wasn’t expecting was for you to be so relaxed about the whole situation. he still drank, still partied, fucked almost whatever girl or guy he wanted, but anytime things got too out of hand, you stepped in, firm but gentle, guiding the crying groupies out of his bedroom after their time was over, driving him every time he got too drunk, cutting him off from any supplies when he was getting out of hand and most importantly, keeping him safe during his travels.

he never realized how much danger he was always in until you mitigated the problems with ease. he just assumed that being assaulted on the daily was something that came with being in the public until you broke some robbers finger when they tried to swipe the wallet out of his own back pocket. after that, he almost clung to you like a koala on a tree anytime he was out in public. you provided stability in a time where he was drowning in his own worries.

that didn’t mean he was ever nice to you though. in reality, he was actually sometimes meaner to you, the simple fact that some girl could be stronger than him set him off, always feeling on edge around you. you weren’t necessarily quiet, offering up any and all small bits and pieces about yourself that he ever wanted to know, but he never really knew you: not your last name, where you were from, if you had any siblings, parents, where you went to school, what your job was, who you were on the inside. it bugged him like crazy to know what your favorite color was and that you liked cheese on your ramen but not anything important, anything he wanted to know.

you liked to keep it that way, however, and would stay as friendly yet aloof as possible. this was a job to you, a job that would set you up easy for awhile and gave you a break from fighting for the most part. you wouldn’t admit to yourself that you liked the man more than you would’ve expected. you felt the way he clung to you as fans swarmed him, the way he always looked to you in reassurance as you walked the streets at night, hearing his sobs in the shower, sobs that were so broken and confused. it showed to you a side of him that was vulnerable, that showed emotion.

he broke down towards the end of your stay, realizing a little too late how much easier it was for you to do your job when he was cooperative and nice. in fact, he began to be more open about enjoying your company and spending time with you. it made it harder for you to continue with your job knowing you were falling for the pretty rich boy, for the man you were hired to protect, for the man who looked at you like you could do no wrong but vehemently would deny it. you began enjoying the little moments with him, the stolen glances, the laughing. you didn’t know what changed in him but you were glad he was someone you could get along with. underneath that crazy exterior, he was just a guy who wanted a friend.

your six months came up relatively quickly. it sucked that your cushy job living in five star hotels, eating decadent meals and working out in state of the art facilities would be over soon but you felt yourself getting lazy, weak and losing your rather sharp edge. it was time to get back into the grind and despite your heart panging at the fact that you would leave the pretty boy with the angry and sad heart behind, you were ready to go.

your last night of work consisted of the final show in Tokyo. tens of thousands of guests were set to attend what would be the bands biggest concert ever. you were calm, cool and collected as always, but the singer, not so much.

he spent the day pacing back and forth, warming up his vocals, hydrating himself, stretching and generally doing his best to calm his nerves.

in a rare act of affection, you reached out to grab your hand with his own, looking him dead in the eye and telling him that this night would be one he would remember forever; and you were right, just not for the way either of you thought.

the show went amazing, the crowd loud and receptive, the choreography flawless, the singing perfect. Todoroki ran off stage with the biggest smile he had ever seen and in his own rare display of affection, twirled you around with ease, adrenaline still pumping through his system.

you congratulated him on the great show and waited patiently for him to remove all the makeup and his costume. he emerged a little while later, hair flat against his head, wet from the shower, sweatpants and an inconspicuous gray hoodie donning his body. you bid a pleasant farewell to his bandmates before escorting him back to the car. he had requested that you drive him back to the hotel and spend one final night in the comfortable hotel beds before you headed back to your hometown.

when you arrived, however, things felt quiet, a little too quiet, and the hair stood up on the back of your neck.

“Shouto, you need to get into the driver’s seat right now, turn on the car and lock it. do not let me in until i tell you to. do not get out of the car, okay?”

he began to question you but before he had a chance to argue, you were pushing him out of the way as a knife sliced towards him, figures cloaked in black emerging from the shadows.

one, two, three, four.

you counted out the four assailants as you shoved Shouto against the car, prompting him to unlock and scramble in through the back seat. only when you heard the click of the lock did you breathe a sigh of relief and begin your attack.

the first man with the knife was tall and lanky, using his height to his advantage, trying to overwhelm you, but with a quick kick to the back of his kneecaps, he went tumbling onto his knees. now shorter than you, you were able to control him by grabbing onto the top of his head and slamming it into the ground, effectively knocking him out.

one, two, three.

the next man thought his muscles would save the day, but his size lacked any true speed, and you were able to land fingers to his eyes, a punch square to his nose. a quick chokehold and he was knocked out against the concrete as well.

one, two.

they both came at once, knives flailing in the air as they sliced your way. one managed to gouge out a chunk of flesh in your arm but you paid no mind, too focused on the task at hand as you grabbed the knife with your hand and used the other arm to knock into their elbow, making them loosen their grip enough to let go of the blade that you then embedded into their shoulder. the other assailant took your distraction to swing the knife your way and as you were trying to dodge the serrated edge, used their other fist to swing up into your chin. you felt your teeth chatter against each other, blood mixing with saliva as you bit your tongue. spitting, you slammed your hand down against their wrist, grabbing the knife with your hand and yanking, not caring that it sliced into your palm as you flipped the weapon around to shove it into their abdomen.

with both men distracted, you slammed your fist against the car door, telling Shouto to quickly unlock it so you could get in. when you heard the telltale click, you instantly dove into the backseat, yelling at him to lock it and drive as fast as he could back to the hotel. he did as he was told with an eerie calmness to him, backing out and around the attackers that were attempting to survey the damage that had been dealt to them.

once you had made the relatively quick trip back to the hotel, you hurriedly jumped out of the car, telling Shouto to carry his own bags so you could be on alert if anything were to happen, scanning each and every corner for a possible other attack. thankfully, everything was safe as you made your way into his hotel room.

you dropped him off quietly, not even attempting to walk into his room, but only fifteen minutes had passed before he was knocking on your door, a first aid kit he had gotten from the front desk securely tucked under his arm.

you let him in without a word, locking the door behind you and turning to face him. before you had a chance to ask what he was doing there, he had dragged you into your rather grandiose bathroom, sitting you on the steps leading up to the jacuzzi tub and pulling out the contents of the kit onto the floor.

he began by assessing the damage to your wounds, cleaning and disinfecting them before wrapping both your hand and arm rather efficiently.

“i had to wrap a lot of my own wounds as well as my siblings. dear old dad let the temper get the best of him sometimes and it wasn’t always so pretty,” he explained, teeth clenching together in an attempt to remain calm.

“thanks for this. i’m sure they’ll heal just fine,” you replied, not wanting to put him in a situation where he had to talk about his troubling past.

“you could’ve died protecting me today, you know?”

“that’s my job Todoroki. i was hired to protect you, i protected you, and i’m fine, thank you very much. this is not my first fight and it definitely won’t be my last.”

he sighed, rubbing his temples as he sat down on the marble floor in front of you, holding your wounded hand in his own, tracing the fabric that surrounded your palm.

“i recognized one of the cars in the parking lot. it was a company car, one of my dad’s cars to be precise. i know they can seem relatively inconspicuous but i memorized every car my dad ever had, big or small. it was definitely his car.”

you mulled over his words for a moment before sighing yourself, slumping against the stairs as your head rested against the rim of the tub.

“your dad sent those men, huh? that’s why you were so eerily calm driving away. you knew you weren’t really in any danger, that those men were secretly there to kill me,” you finally concluded, anger boiling deep within the pit of your stomach.

“yeah, i think they were. i don’t think dad is too fond of the fact that you and i got close. i-i like you a lot more than i let on, i’ve told him so. i thought that would make him happy, knowing i have someone in my life that i could rely on and trust, but he didn’t like the fact that he couldn’t control you after these six months were up, think he wanted to teach me a lesson.”

“wouldn’t be the first time i’ve had a hit out on my head. this one, however, is probably going to be a lot tricker to deal with.”

Shouto sunk deeper into himself, body shaking with rage as he saw the fight flash in his head over and over again.

“i’m going to protect you. if you want to, that is. i’ll sign you on as my own bodyguard, however much money you want. i’ll be by your side always, make sure that nobody tries to kill you, tries to hurt you like that again.”

“i can fend for myself Todoroki.”

“it’s Shouto. and why won’t you let anyone else take care of you? listen, i know i’ve been kind of an ass but i thought we were at least friends, and yet i know nothing about you. i know your favorite color, your favorite animal, that you like sunsets and the rain and snuggling under comfy sheets at the end of the day, that your eyes sparkle when you get a chance to fight but secretly crave peace and comfort, but i don’t know who you are. your name, your story, why you’re really here.”

you heaved as you sat back up, staring him straight in the eye to find no malice, no anger, only confusion, empathy and maybe even a bit of longing. so you told him, you told him everything: who you were, what you were, where you grew up, about your childhood dog and all the scraps you had as a kid, how two strange men in suits approached you and groomed you to fight at the age of sixteen, how it was the only thing you knew how to do, the only thing you were good at, how you scared yourself sometimes because you enjoyed the pain that came with the fights. he sat there watching, eyes wide and unblinking as he absorbed every word you said, every bit of pain and anxiety, of longing for someone to love and understand you, of not having to fight all the time, of wanting to be vulnerable for once.

“let me take care of you,” he declared, standing up and outstretching his hand towards you, helping you up from the cool tile, hand coming to rest behind your head once you had steadied yourself.

he leaned forward, unsure and hesitant, before placing his lips against your own, soft and gentle, tasting of mint chapstick and coffee. you were unsure of yourself, awkward, full of aches and pains, wanting so badly to let go but never wanting to get hurt.

“it’s okay, you’re safe with me. let me take care of you, please.”

that was all it took for you to open up, looping your arms around his neck as he led you back to the bedroom, careful to not run you into anything. your knees hit the back of the bed and you reflexively tensed up, like a deer in headlights.

he shushed you, rubbing his hands up and down your arms, heeding the bandage and wound underneath. you laid back after that, body attempting to relax as his hands ran themselves soothingly over your body, across your breasts, the flesh of your stomach, your thighs, the corded muscles in your calves, slipping your shoes off, your socks, kissing every inch of your body along the way, making sure you were comfortable. you shimmied out of your pants, your tight shirt, bra, underwear, finally bare for him to see, scars, bruises, all the imperfections of your life.

“so, so beautiful,” he murmured, taking his time to kiss every single blemish and scar that you had, wanting you to feel his dedication.

after what felt like hours of soft kisses, his thumb came to rest on your clit, rubbing in quick and precise circles, fingers gently parting your folds to press into your body, back arching at the feeling of him already.

“it’s all about you tonight, okay? just relax, let me show you how much i appreciate you.”

and appreciate you he did. he dropped to his knees, nose nuzzling into your pubic bone as he kitten licked your clit once, twice, three times, testing your reaction. you whined and squirmed at the feeling, already overwhelmed by his fingers lazily dragging in and out of you. you wanted, needed more, but Todoroki wouldn’t hear any of that. you deserved to be treated right, treated gently tonight, to allow your worries to melt away, if only for a few moments.

his fingers began picking up pace, pistoning in and out of you, his fingers curling in all the right spots, fists clenched into the downy comforter as you attempted to ground yourself from the overwhelming situation. his tongue worked against your clit, changing speed and pressure, trying to find what was the right combination to set you off, watching your every move intently as you squirmed around on the bed. before he even got a chance to get into a routine, you were already cumming over his fingers, creamy liquid coating the digits.

he hummed in contentment, pulling his fingers out to lick up the syrup, you watching with your pupils blown wide.

you went to sit up, body aching from the adrenaline of the fight, but he pushed you back down into the plush bed, tutting as he settled his head against your thigh, kissing, sucking and biting along the plump flesh, leaving little marks only he would know about.

his tongue began lapping at your clit again, this time harsher, more in tune with what your body wanted. you clenched your legs around his head, fisting his hair with your good hand as you tried to ground yourself yet again to reality. his velvety tongue felt like heaven against your body, coaxing moans and sighs out of your mouth. you felt your second orgasm hit you like a freight truck, tingles running up your spine. you tried to push his head away but he only held your body down, a frighteningly feral look on his face as he continued to lap against your clit, unrelenting in his pursuit to pull orgasm after orgasm from you.

after, two, three, four more highs, you couldn’t tell where one began and one ended, he was finally satisfied, pulling his face away, chin glistening in the dim light. your eyes were teary and red, overwhelmed by everything he had put you through. you had never been more satisfied in your life, and by the look on Shouto’s face, he knew it too.

your eyelids began to droop and your body relaxed into the mattress as you came back down into reality. Shouto shuffled around the room before settling you into your bed, tucking the sheets around your body and propping your head against your pillow.

he was enamored by your, by your story, how you opened up so willingly to him after tonight. nothing would get in between you two now. he was just starting to truly know you, know the real you, and nothing was going to stop him from wooing you until you were his, not even his father., and if her life was ever threatened again by him, well, Shouto would just have to kill Todoroki Enji.

#todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki #shouto todoroki #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha #bnha #bnharem collab

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thatboomerkid · 3 years

Text

Giff -- SpellJammer Race for Pathfinder

Giff -- SpellJammer Race [19 RACE POINTS] for First Edition Pathfinder

Known to the gnomes of Markovia as the nilski konj vojnici, to the Hin plantation-owners of Covington Farms as los mercenarios gigantes del río, and to the human field-workers laboring near New Arvoreen most-often simply as “those big goddamn bastards,” the giff -- as they are called in their own guttural, roaring language -- represent a recently-contacted species of huge, violent, powerfully-built, terrifyingly-focused, and dangerously cagey combatants.

In the little-over-a-century since their discovery by the Hin, platoons of giff have already carved a bloody name for themselves across the wilds of Verdura -- and far beyond -- as unparalleled river-guides, rowdies, strike-breakers, mob debt-collectors, private enforcers, heavy-weapons units, siege engines, bodyguards, and elite soldiers of fortune.

Brought to you absolutely free to enjoy, to test & to share – as always – by the fine folks of my Patreon.

original image by the incredible Claudio Pozas, here

Type: Monstrous Humanoid (3 RP)

Ability Score Modifiers: Mixed Weakness (-2 RP)

+2 Strength, -4 Dexterity, +2 Constitution, -4 Intelligence, +2 Wisdom

Size: Large (7 RP)

Giff gain a +2 size bonus to Strength and a -2 size penalty to Dexterity (already included above). Giff also suffer a -1 size penalty to their AC and a -1 size penalty on all attack rolls; they gain a +1 bonus on combat maneuver checks and to their CMD, and suffer a -4 size penalty on Stealth checks.

A giff takes up a space that is 10 feet by 10 feet and has a reach of 5 feet.

Base Speed: Normal speed (0 RP)

Languages: Standard (0 RP); giff speak their own eponymous, curiously poetic language, and most are -- in the modern day -- also conversant in Low Kozah-Talosii (usually spoken with a thick, pompous Verduran accent).

This bastardized dialect, the so-called “Common tongue” favored across Pyrespace for use in international, intercultural, and interplanetary trade, is a degraded mongrel variant of High Kozah-Talosii: the ancient root-tongue of both Arvorean and Brandobarin, still employed by the Church of Yondalla for use in sermons, hymns, and in all official records.

Big Damn Guns: Giff are treated as gnomes for purposes of the Experimental Gunsmith Archetype. (0 RP)

Darkvision: Giff have 60 ft. darkvision (0 RP); giff have relatively poor eyesight while out of water, which is easily corrected with simple lenses -- such as a monocle -- for use while reading. This vision is not poor enough to impart a mechanical penalty on Perception checks or attack rolls made by the giff.

Natural Armor: Giff have +3 natural armor (4 RP)

Natural Attack (Headbutt): Giff receive one natural attack, which is treated as a gore attack that deals 1d8 bludgeoning damage. (1 RP)

Natural Swimmers: Giff have a swim speed of 30 feet and gain the +8 racial bonus on Swim checks that a swim speed normally grants. (1 RP)

Powerful Charge (Headbutt): Whenever a giff charges, it deals twice the standard number of damage dice with its headbutt plus 1-1/2 times its Strength bonus. (2 RP)

River-Sense: Giff can sense vibrations in water, granting them blindsense 30 feet against creatures that are touching the same body of water. (1 RP)

Slow On Land: Giff often select the Clumsy, Easy Target, Magically Inept, Nearsighted, and Slow Reflexes Major Drawbacks (0 RP)

Spell Resistance (Greater): Giff have spell resistance equal to 11 + their character level. (3 RP)

Sporting: The species-wide love of warfare exhibited by the giff draws a sharp line of distinction between “sporting” and “unsporting” combat (see below). (-1 RP)

Sporting combat includes arm-wrestling, fisticuffs, darts, cards, dice, checkers, chess, billiards, cricket, rugby, skeet shooting, tennis, and golf, alongside tests of boasting, carousing, headbutting, toast-giving, swimming, push-ups, and a complex, ritualized sort of thunderous, unarmed mixed martial-art performed solely while stripped down to breeches & undergarments, usually in ankle-deep to waist-deep water, ending in pin or submission, which -- up to a point -- also serves as a type of flirting.

The military mentality of the giff even makes special allowances for a variety of “sporting” duels to the death. Establishing a proper duel requires a huge number of complex ritual elements that -- in the end -- mostly boils down to both giff formally acknowledging that:

Both giff are armed with approximately the same quality of weapons & armor (warhammer, combat knife, pistol, full plate, etc.)

Both giff have equal access to military support, including healing

Both giff have a grievance, no matter how petty

Both giff are suffering approximately the same level of injuries

Both giff have made arrangements for their estate, and for the treatment of their body after death

Once a “sporting” challenge to the death has been agreed-to by both parties, anything up to and including outright murder of one’s opponent is considered fair game.

Several major holidays each year celebrated by the giff include a “violent dueling festival” as part of their celebration; to outsiders, these events have a very bizarre, genteel, 1800s-Victorian-Teddy-Roosevelt-meets-The-Purge sort of feel to them:

“Happy holidays, friend; best of health this year to you and to your kin. And I say, old chap, don’t suppose it’s high time for a kukri-duel, eh, wot wot? Seeing as you got drunk on my finest brandy, made a pass at the missus, wiped your prodigious buttocks with my table linens, and micturated in my hedge-row as of Christmas last, well ... in lieu of an apology, what say I have Jenkins fetch the carving blades, eh? See which of has the moxie, shall we? Cheerio and have at thee then, old sport?”

If this formal challenge to a lethal sporting-duel is declined, the challenger must make all possible accommodations to guarantee the immediate physical safety of the giff she just challenged (at least until such time as the two giff part ways once more): providing the giff with weapons, armor, food, water, medicine, reading materials, a place to sleep, liquor, smoking tobacco, and anything else a gentleman or lady of high breeding could reasonably expect to have access to (even while imprisoned).

In short: if the challenged giff dies immediately after declining a duel, it is considered very embarrassing for the challenger.

For his own part, the declining giff must treat her challenger with the very utmost level of respect ... or risk being guilty of unsporting conduct, a fate far worse than mere death.

Any giff who finds herself about to violate the terms of properly “sporting” conduct instantly becomes aware of the error, just as if she were wearing a phylactery of faithfulness and, at all times, actively contemplating the thought of doing bodily harm to another giff: this behavioral limitation is not built as a trap for players to accidentally stumble into, but -- instead -- as an interesting roadblock to navigate around.

If two or more giff find themselves forced into a position of armed conflict against one another on a battlefield, both groups traditionally retire for at least a day of drinking and sorting-out ranks; on rare occasion, one platoon will join the other; more likely, all giff involved in any part of the operation will quit their current hirings and look for work elsewhere.

Any giff who engages another member of her own species in any type of unsporting combat -- attacking another giff with a weapon, for example, or with magic -- immediately suffers a -2 penalty on all skill checks, ability checks, attack rolls and saves; she continues to suffer this penalty until such time as she is able to make amends: presenting her victim with a formal written apology, or seeking our her victim’s family to beg their public pardon.

Each month, this penalty increases by 2. Guilt is a poison that grows by degrees, after all: ever-gnawing.

While she is suffering penalties in this way, if the giff is presented with the chance to punish herself – or a non-giff opponent! – while presented with something that reminds the giff of her betrayal, she may find herself compelled to do so regardless of the consequences:

Any time her betrayal is directly brought to her attention, the giff must make a Will save (DC = 10 + her character level + the Charisma modifier of the wronged giff). Failure means that the giff falls into a rage of abject self-loathing, completely focused on her own guilt for a number of rounds equal to the DC, above. Until she has finished with this exercise in hate, the giff can take no action other than to harm the reminder of her failure or enable herself to harm it: grappling a human shipmate who mentioned her old friend so that she might headbutt the human while strangling them, for example, or calmly loading a shotgun so that she might shoot the human dead in cold blood.

Note that the giff, while wracked with guilt & grief, is not required to do anything or harm anyone: she may simply stare at an old photograph and feel sad, for example, ignoring everyone around her.

During the fury of this black tempest, the giff suffers a -2 penalty to her AC.

Once the giff successfully makes amends, either with the wronged party or with the victim’s next-of-kin, all of the above penalties are removed. Entire subsets of giff society -- mediators, arbitrators, and negotiators -- are explicitly adapted to making absolutely certain that any errors in sporting conduct among giff are resolved quickly, and to the satisfaction of all parties.

Should she fail to make amends before her death, any giff who has harmed another giff in an unsporting way invariably rises again as an undead horror of some kind (often a blood knight or graveknight): reborn as a rotting, lurching mountainside of infinitely destructive hated.

Note that the Sporting Racial Trait is not purely social, but rather acts as a species-wide ingrained psychological virtue: two giff living on Fenris who never expect to see the wide rivers of Verdura again are still bound by the rules of “sporting” conflict; neither could shoot the other in the back any more than either of them could grow wings and fly to the moon.

Undead giff do not possess the Sporting Trait, which is seen -- by living giff -- as the most abhorrent and disturbing quality imaginable.

Note, also, that the desire to behave in a sporting manner extends only to fellow giff: Chaotic Evil giff will routinely massacre unarmed non-giff by the thousands, bellowing with laughter as they do so, and even a Lawful Good giff will rarely think twice before sucker-punching a crude human making drunken threats and impolite remarks at the bar.

-------

Giff Timeline:

1603 A.D. (118 years ago): The colony of New Arvoreen is established on Verdura; giff make contact with Hin (and their human servants) for the first time.

1620 A.D.: First generation of giff who have always known about the existence of Hin, humans, and -- most importantly! -- firearms fully comes of age.

1636 A.D.: New Arvoreen is significantly expanded.

1667 A.D.: Nation of Markovia -- the technological-marvel nation named for its Founder, Monarch and Supreme Leader, Dr. Adlai Markovitch -- founded on Verdua; diplomatic trade established with New Arvoreen.

1669 A.D.: City of New Arvoreen significantly expanded.

1702 A.D.: New Arvoreen significantly expanded; land officially cleared for Covington Farms, soon to be the largest agricultural facility in the system; rates of forcible immigration of indentured humans to New Arvoreen tripled.

1721 A.D.: (current year)

original image here

Giff Ranks: Lieutenant, General, Colonel, Major General, Lieutenant General, Lieutenant Colonel, Captain General, Brigadier General, Field Marshall, Major, Captain, Sergeant Major, Commandant General, Wing General, Lieutenant Colonel General, Staff Sergent, Master Sergent, Master General, Grenadier General; note that “Lord” may be added to any military rank, alongside the designations of “First” and “First Class” (for example, “First Lord Brigadier General First Class”)

Giff military ranks are, effectively, meaningless noise to everyone except the giff themselves: every member of the species is a decorated officer of some complex rank within some elite military company or another, but such ranks are largely ceremonial and may be inherited, purchased, or passed through elaborate, bombastic ritual.

Further, the only thing preventing a young giff from forming an entirely new military organization & immediately naming herself -- of example -- Supreme Acting Field Commander and Secretary General of the Armies and Navies at Wartime is -- up to a point -- her own willingness to do so.

Male Giff Names: Any invented male Hin name.

Female Giff Names: Any invented female Hin name.

Giff Family Names: Any invented male Hin first name

Society

The giff are military-minded, and organize themselves into squads, platoons, companies, corps, and larger groups. The number of giff in a platoon varies according to the season, situation, and level of danger involved.

A giff "platoon" hired to protect a gambling operation may number only a single soldier, while a platoon hired to invade an illithid stronghold may number well over a hundred.

The giff pride themselves on their weapon-skills, and any giff carries a number of swords, daggers, maces, and similar tools on hand to deal with troublemakers.

A giff's true love, however, is the gun. A misfiring weapon matters little to the giff (occasional fatalities amongst soldiery are simply to expected); it is the flash, the noise, and the damage that most impress them.

Even unarmed, the giff are powerful opponents. Against non-giff, they’ll often wade into a brawl just for the pure fun of it, tossing various combatants on both sides around to prove themselves the victors.

Once a weapon is bared, however, and the challenge becomes “unsporting,” the giff consider all restrictions off: the challenge is now to the death.

The giff prize themselves as top-quality mercenaries, and to that end take great pride in owning -- if not always wearing -- elaborate suits of full-plate armor. These suits usually include massive helms featuring hyper-detailed, semi-realistic images of exotic monsters on the crests, inlaid with ivory and bone along the largest plates.

Armor repair is a major hobby among the giff, although great skill at the craft is surprisingly rare.

The giff are deeply suspicious of magic, magicians, and magical devices; their legendary foes, the Five Tiger Princes, are despised for their esoteric abilities as much for their wicked deviltry.

image here

Family

The giff are, for the most part, happiest among fellow members their own race, intermingling broadly with the Ghoran -- whom the giff utilize as an edible, inexhaustible workforce -- and the Tengu: another unofficial “servitor race” of the giff, most often used as messengers and household servants.

Ghoran living on giff lands are stoic: dutifully tending the fields of the giff in exchange for protection from ten-thousand other, vastly more predatory dangers. For all that giff treat the ghoran as disposable -- a ghoran living on Verdura produces one seed each year, and can grow a new member of the species in a single month -- the giff do not want the ghoran hunted to total extermination. That, for the ghoran, is saying something,

Tengu, on the other hand, are deeply prized by the giff as staff, usually in the roles of personal assistants, groomers, decorators, butlers, bartenders, man-servants, attaches, major domos, and maids. Since all giff are “wealthy land owners,” to one degree or another, the true power & prestige of a giff can be accurately measured by the number of tengu he employs.

Giff otherwise consider anything larger than them deeply threatening, yet also complain bitterly -- in private -- about the fragility of the smaller races. Outside their own platoons, the giff are happiest among military organizations with a strong chain of command.

For this reason, giff hold the Church of Yondalla in exceptionally high regard.

Giff especially despise the catfolk: although they don’t speak of it to outsiders, a century ago the giff were on the verge of extinction: hunted for sport and trophy by servants of the Five Tiger Princes, their people nearly cut to nothing and their lands held by only a few remaining families. Since their acquisition of firearms -- and the arrival of the Hin -- the catfolk have broadly retreated.

Every giff -- male, female, and giffling -- has a rank within their greater society, which can only be changed by a giff of higher rank. Within these ranks are sub-ranks, and within those sub-ranks are color-markings and badges. The highest-ranking giff gives the orders, the others obey. It does not matter if the orders are foolish or even suicidal: following them is the purpose of the giff in the universe. A quasi-mystical faith among the giff -- who claim to worship, in a vague way, the Golden General Bahamut, who was killed and eaten by the cowardly Five Tiger Princes in order to steal his strength -- confirms that all things have their place, and the place of the giff to follow orders.

This makes the giff very happy.

Giff platoons can be hired from their sprawling, palatial riverside plantations and mountain hunting-lodges by anyone looking for muscle. The social leaders among the giff are contractors: these specially-trained giff review prospective employers according to ability to pay, then make a recommendation to powerful warlords and famous adventurers among the giff. The leaders, in turn, consider the danger of the job, and whether taking it will enhance their giffdom.

Giff jobs are usually paid in firearms & gunpowder, though they often will accept other weapons and armor. Aboard ship, the giff require their own quarters, and will often request to bring on their own large weapons. They favor fire-projectors and bombards for ground work, and will happily blaze away at opponents regardless of the tactical situation.

The giff require the ships of others because they have -- for the most part -- no spellcasting abilities among them.

Giff of both sexes serve in their platoons, and both fight equally well. Giff young are raised tenderly until they are old enough to survive an exploding arquebus, then are inducted fully into the platoon.

The giff practice equality among the sexes in battle and in childrearing. They live about 70 years, but do not take aging gracefully. As a giff grows older and begins to slow down, he is possessed with the idea of proving himself still young and vital, usually in battle.

As a result, there are very, very few old giff.

#pathfinder #SPELLJAMMER #race #options #1st edition

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paperanddice · 3 years

Text

Spectral riders are another special creation of the skull lords. Raised from the bodies of great warriors, both righteous and cruel, they are twisted and conscripted into the service of the triple-headed skeletons and used as bodyguards or elite strike agents. Despite the life-like appearance they can take, they are actually mostly ghosts possessing the armor and weapons of the warrior and creating the form of a mounted warrior. The mount and rider are not separate creatures, instead being a shared projection of the undead's essence, and the rider is actually entirely incapable of dismounting, somewhat limiting its ability to traverse tight areas. The ability to briefly turn incorporeal as it moves lets it maneuver a little better, but a careless spectral rider that allows its momentary incorporeality to wear off while it is within a wall or other solid object gets destroyed as soon as it reforms, so they very rarely risk passing through any but the thinnest walls.

A spectral rider makes for an excellent leader of a skull lord's lesser minions, as it can bolster other nearby creatures against attempts to turn them, and the desecrating aura surrounding it lashes out at the holy symbols of its foes. Those who cannot assert their faith and personal strength against the rider's disdain find their symbol melting to painful acid in their hands, burning them and removing their ability to channel holy powers. While spectral riders are difficult to raise, a skull lord may be willing to send its rider on a suicide mission to try and destroy the holy symbols of groups of clerics or paladins in order to weaken them before the following assault with the rest of the skull lord's minions.

Originally from the 3.5 Monster Manual V, though I was actually really disappointed with that stat block. It might as well have been called the spectral pedestrian, since it got literally no real benefits from being mounted. Didn't even carry a lance in that version. So here's mine where it's actually defined by being a rider. This post came out a week ago on my Patreon. If you want to get access to all my monster conversions early, as well as a spot on the Paper and Dice Discord server, consider backing me there!

5th Edition

Spectral Rider Large undead, unaligned Armor Class 20 (plate, shield) Hit Points 119 (14d10 + 42) Speed 50 ft. Str 18 (+4) Dex 14 (+2) Con 18 (+4) Int 12 (+1) Wis 15 (+2) Cha 19 (+4) Damage Immunities necrotic, poison Condition Immunities poisoned Senses passive Perception 12 Languages the languages it knew in life Challenge 6 (2300 XP) Desecration Aura. Unless the spectral rider is incapacitated, it and undead creatures of its choice within 30 feet of it have advantage on saving throws against effects that turn undead. Any unattended nonmagical holy symbol in that area immediately dissolves into an acidic pool at the end of the spectral rider's turn. A creature carrying a nonmagical holy symbol that starts its turn in that area must succeed on a DC 15 Charisma saving throw or it takes 3 (1d6) acid damage and its holy symbol is destroyed. Ghost Shift. As a bonus action, the spectral rider can become incorporeal during its movement until the end of its turn. While incorporeal, it can move through other creatures and objects as if they were difficult terrain, and opportunity attacks against the rider have disadvantage. If the spectral rider ends its turn inside of an object, it is immediately destroyed. Trampling Charge. If the spectral rider moves at least 20 feet straight toward a creature and then hits it with a lance attack on the same turn, the target takes an extra 10 (3d6) piercing damage and must succeed on a DC 15 Strength saving throw or be knocked prone. If the target is prone, the rider can make one hoof attack against it as a free action. Actions Multiattack. The spectral rider makes two longsword attacks. Longsword. Melee Weapon Attack: +7 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 8 (1d8+4) slashing damage plus 7 (2d6) necrotic damage. Lance. Melee Weapon Attack: +7 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 10 (1d12+4) piercing damage plus 7 (2d6) necrotic damage. Hoof. Melee Weapon Attack: +7 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 7 (1d6+4) bludgeoning damage plus 7 (2d6) necrotic damage. Shroud Of Living Days. The spectral rider cloaks itself and anything it is wearing or carrying with a magical illusion that makes it look as it did in life. The illusion ends if the spectral rider takes a bonus action to end it or if it dies. The changes created by this effect include tactile and olfactory elements. A creature must take an action to visually inspect the illusion and succeed on a DC 20 Intelligence (Investigation) check to recognize the illusionary disguise.

13th Age

Spectral Rider 5th level troop [undead] Initiative: +8 Vulnerable: Holy Brutal Lance +10 vs. AC - 25 damage and the target pops free from the spectral rider Limited Use: 1/battle, when the spectral rider started its turn unengaged. Desecrated Blade +10 vs. AC - 14 damage Natural Even Hit or Miss: The spectral rider pops free from the target and can move again as a quick action. C: Desecrating Aura +8 vs. MD (1d3 nearby enemies) - 8 negative energy damage Dissolve Holy Symbol: If the target is carrying a holy symbol, it must roll a saving throw. On a failure, the holy symbol is destroyed and the target takes an extra 5 acid damage. If the holy symbol is magical, the save is an easy save (6+) instead. Limited Use: 1/battle, when the escalation die is 3+. Ghost Shift: The spectral rider can move through solid objects, but can’t end its movement inside them. It gets a +5 bonus on disengage checks. Shroud of Living Days: The spectral rider can cast an illusion over itself to appear as it did while it was alive. Seeing through this effect outside of combat requires a DC 25 skill check, otherwise the rider gains a +2 bonus on its attack in the first round of combat. AC 21 PD 16 MD 18 HP 68

#D&D #DnD #Dungeons and Dragons #5th edition #13th Age #homebrew #my homebrew #monster #undead #long post

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softsillytwsted · 4 years

Text

The Sleep of Blue Roses

I had this thought in my head of a what if story about an Ace betrayal and couldn’t stop myself from writing this until it was done. This is honestly not what I usually write because it’s kinda dark, but hey - it fits October doesn’t it?

Warnings: implied character death, implied domestic abuse, angst, the slow crawl of helplessness

Somewhere between now and back when you were still here, Deuce never understood limits. How can he? You were magicless, but you selflessly faced those impossibly stronger than you and succeeded. Deuce felt that nothing was out of reach when he was with you, with Ace, with Grim, Jack, Epel, Sebek...

When did things go wrong?

After weeks of strategizing a way to rescue Grim, who’s habit of eating everyone’s negative energy finally caused him to overblot, the gray monster was finally back to normal. Looking back, Deuce could only see how reckless and impossible the task was. They were up against a monster that had the combined magic and unique magic of the 7 strongest students from an academy of elites. The situation that promised death loomed over everyone, yet with you there, no one had any doubts they would fail. Not Riddle, not Leona, not Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, nor Malleus. And the impossible was made possible.

And you left this world thinking the impossible can be made possible.

“I arrived in Twisted Wonderland right after my mom contacted me,” you admitted shyly. “I haven’t talked to her since I was a kid because my dad always told me to stay away from her but... I really want to see her again.”

You were in front of the mirror, bags packed and your friends surrounding you. You can finally return back home and with a piece of the Dark Mirror in your hands you can communicate with them whenever you desired.

Deuce beamed at you, “It’ll go great, I know it will! My mother is always kind to me and she wanted what was best for me. I’m sure yours will be the same too!”

Ace hugged you before you left. “It’s seriously going to get so boring without you around. You better contact us or I’ll go over there and kick your ass.” Jokes aside, you and Deuce could tell by the glint in Ace’s eyes that he meant every word. You smiled at him then, because despite knowing each other for a year, the three of you shared an inseparable bond.

“I promise.”

You left them.

Days passed, then weeks, with no word from you. After one month, Ace angrily stormed into the Mirror Chamber and demanded to go see you.

“They do not exist.”

“Of course they don’t fucking exist, they’re in another world- now lead me to them!”

“They do not exist in this world or in any other world.”

“What the fuck do you mean by that!? They were here just a month ago!” Ace lunged at the mirror. His fists futilely pounded on its glassy surface before he tried to shake the mirror out of its placeholder. Deuce had to restrain the wildly thrashing Ace before the ginger stilled in his arms- lifeless. “Whatever, I’m over it.” He took a deep breath and walked away, ignoring Deuce’s and Grim’s cries after him.

If Deuce took better notice of the chill that followed Ace’s steps, maybe things would’ve been different. Instead, he visited the Mirror Chamber until a year passed and he too gave up- only visiting again on occasion, whereas Grim still stops by everyday.

Ace’s friendship with Deuce and Grim were strained at best. The ginger acted the same, but something was different. Like a cherished photo misplaced. Deuce didn’t question when Ace started hanging out with Kalim and Jamil more and Deuce and the other first years less. Nor did he stop to think about why Ace volunteered to do errands for Azul and Crowley. He even looked away when he saw Ace chatting it up with the two princes of the school.

They graduated like this without mentioning the name Y/n.

***

“AAH! Oh no are you alright?” Deuce yelled after you when you somersaulted from a heavy onslaught of his color-changing magic. “I’m so sorry!”

You could only giggle at your current state. Ace warned you not to get close to Deuce while he was changing the colors of the roses, but you assumed being behind Deuce would be safe. You were now paying for your mistakes. “Don’t worry about it Deuce,” you paused. The smile you flashed him revealed a weariness he couldn’t comprehend. “It was my fault too.”

***

Two years later, Deuce finally passed his test to become part of Rose Kingdom’s Elite Division. Right after orientation, he was pleasantly surprised by a visit from Ace who threw an arm over the bluenette’s shoulders and cheekily grinned at him like the two never grew apart. For a long moment, Deuce believed they never did as the two went to a bar to celebrate and catch up. Deuce breezed through all the sleepless nights he spent studying and training; Ace regaled his continuation of his internship.

“They loved me so much they made a new position to get me to stay!” he said. “And guess what? He said that if he becomes prime minister he’ll make me one of his advisors. Not too bad huh?”

Deuce couldn’t be happier for Ace. He always wondered what Ace, who blanched at the idea of the future, would do with his life. He admits, however, that politics was the furthest thing he would ever imagine his friend doing. “Being in the political scene can be dangerous I hear. Luckily I can assign my own bodyguards, including a certain elite policeman.”

This was news to Deuce. He was unaware of any political strife that would need the Elite Division, which specialized in magic-related crimes, to act as bodyguards... Maybe he needs to follow the news more closely. Regardless, Deuce grinned with all teeth and slammed his fist in his palm. “Just leave it to me, no way in hell I’ll let my buddy get hurt.”

“...Glad I can count on you... buddy.”

***

Deuce helped you up and tried to wipe off the paint on your uniform. You didn’t bother telling him that he was only smearing the paint into your clothes because of the look of concentration on his face telling you how hard he wanted to make this right. “Oh Deuce, you ended up painting the finished roses blue too.”

“What? Oh no...” he groaned at the extra work he’ll have to do. Will he be in time for the Unbirthday Party?

“Hey relax, I’ll help you out! We should be finished within an hour if we hurry,” you reassured him. He flashed you a grateful smile which you returned with a soft smile of your own.

***

The time between then and the election passed with a blink of an eye. Once his candidate won, Ace swaggered over to Deuce’s department with the confidence and authority that didn’t fit a 21 year-old advisor. It didn’t take long for Deuce to find himself a part of Ace’s security detail. It took an even shorter amount of time for Deuce to feel like he was slowly crawling into a waking nightmare.

Deuce tried to ignore it, tried to give Ace the benefit of the doubt, but he couldn’t excuse the things Ace did right in front of him. Dismissals of important emergency committees, deregulation of organizations with authority, increased spending on militarized weapons. The public blamed all these new policies on their new prime minister, but Deuce knew who the real mastermind was.

It didn’t take long for him to confront Ace - especially after he realized that the recent strings of overblot cases popping up across the country were a direct result of Ace’s policies.

“So what are you going to do about it?” Ace sneered. Deuce looked away; the gun in his hand hung lifelessly by his side. “You couldn’t even stop Y/n from leaving to die. You definitely won’t stop me from having my way with this country.”

“What?”

“Don’t give me that... You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Ace looked at Deuce like he was a bug beneath his shoe, but the quake in his eyes said otherwise. “You’re hereby dismissed from your post. If the next time I see you and you try to stop me, I’ll crush you.”

Ace walked away from Deuce- just like he did years ago.

“I’ve done too much to have you get in my way.”

***

Deuce felt so lucky to have met you, despite the rocky beginning. You never hesitated to help and encourage him. Sometimes, when his vague idea of an honor student wasn’t enough to guide him, he would look to you.

He wondered if you knew how much he wanted to repay you for being you.

He wondered if he can one day be someone you would be proud to know.

He wondered... what you thought of him.

***

The familiar halls of Night Raven College felt comforting - a temporary balm to the turmoil Deuce felt lately. He had hoped to see some of his old teachers and Crowley, but the school’s headmaster was tasked to find the Magic Mirror, the legendary mirror that the Beautiful Queen used once upon a time. No doubt, this was Ace’s doing.

When Deuce reached the Mirror Chamber, he was surprised to find Grim was nowhere to be found. Deuce ignored the churning in his stomach and thought to himself that maybe he was just early. After all these years, Grim never stopped believing that you would return to them. Crowley always spoke with pity in his voice about how the little monster would visit the Dark Mirror everyday- waiting, staring.

Deuce respectfully crouched in front of the mirror - like a mourner in front of a grave.

“Hello Y/n I’m sorry it’s been a while since my last visit,” Deuce began, he softly smiled while thinking of all the memories he had of you. “I was able to pass the qualifications to be part of the Elite Division. One of my first assignments was actually to guard Ace, can you believe that?”

He paused and tried to gulp down the lump in his throat. “Um… about Ace he… he’s made it big as a politician. He’s my friend and I was happy for him but… a part of me is scared. He’s not the same anymore after you left Y/n. Looking back, I can’t help but think how reckless and dumb we were to risk our lives against people we had no chance against. But we always made it through thanks to you.” Every single sentence, every single word came out in a rush. It was a confession to all the sins he committed letting Ace go. A realization that he could never be the man he wanted you to be proud of.

“You somehow make the impossible possible… I… I really need that right now...” He begged, “Please… I need...”

Deuce didn’t realize he was crying until the tears flowed down his cheeks and onto his clenched fists. He looked up at the Dark Mirror and activated it. “Oh Dark Mirror, show me Y/n.”

“...”

“They do not exist.”

***

“Hey Deuce,” you began as you picked up a blue rose. The two of you were almost done cleaning up the mess Deuce made and you decided now was the time to take a breather. Deuce slouched in the shade of the hedge, too tired to do anything but hum to show he was listening. “In my world, blue roses were never found naturally, so they symbolized the impossible. But after years of research, my world was able to grow one.”

You handed Deuce the rose, its petals shone brilliantly despite its withering edges. Deuce took it curiously and the two of you shared a sweet smile.

“They now symbolize miracles.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #Deuce Spade #Ace Trappola #Deuce Spade x reader #Ace Trappola x reader #twst fic #angst #character death #implied abuse #set in the future

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fidelismileslucem · 4 years

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Know You Better

Slowly, Jack parsed through the thick file in his hands. He'd already memorized every detail between the manila folds, but it never hurt to re-review.

His new assignment was a wealthy vampire recognized for his generosity, his hand in destabilizing notorious slavery rings, and his relationship with the Queen herself. From what Jack had gathered, this 'Gabriel Reyes' was something of a confidant and adviser, and he felt it safe to say Reyes held a trusted friendship with her ladyship, one strong enough for her to come to his defense when accused of murder behind closed doors.

Evidence had recently surfaced that pointed to Reyes as the culprit behind an escalating string of murders, and the Queen, believing this to be an outside force attempting to frame Reyes, ordered an investigation.

That was part of Jack's job, determining whether or not this Reyes was a homicidal killer. The other part was keeping Reyes safe, as his personal bodyguard. If the Queen was right, that meant someone was targeting Reyes in a way that indicated they knew exactly who they were dealing with. A threat to Reyes' life would be imminent, and if he's innocent, it would be a tragic loss for both the Queen, and her kingdom.

Slavery rings were a well known cog in the machine of the Underground, and while they weren't polite topics to have over tea, everyone was aware of them. Feared them.

Men like Reyes had risen in direct and open opposition to them, and Reyes' property was symbolic, a beacon of hope for those freed and not. To lose that (during critical moves to bring the last of the rings to their knees, no less) would have repercussions that even Jack couldn't predict.

It was common knowledge that the village surrounding Reyes' mansion housed freed slaves, free to go wherever they wish, while given the option to stay under Reyes' protection in the village. The property was well warded and well guarded, and if the rumors of Reyes' abilities were to be believed, the man himself was as dangerous as they come. The promise of his protection alone would be enough to scare off any slavers trying to reclaim their property, while the rumors of it among those still trapped provided something something to believe in.

They needed Reyes now, more than ever, and Jack could only hope that Reyes was as innocent as the Queen believed him to be.

Jack looked up from his folder and out the carriage window to the town passing by. It was a beautiful little place, small houses pressed tightly together with creeping vines edging over any surface within reach. The cobblestone streets were well worn and well tended, along with little gardens and planters scattered down the alleys and window ledges. If it weren't so late, Jack knew he would have seen the streets bustling with people, and the more he watched, the more it reminded him a little bit of home. As his thoughts started to drift, Jack caught his first glimpse of of Reyes' mansion through the trees.

This building two stories high, and matched the weathered look of the surrounding village. Dark, elegant accents of iron fought snaking foliage along the walls, and Jack's second thought, the first marveling at the gorgeous mansion, was how much of a nightmare this building was going to be to reinforce.

Jack regretted starting to count how many windows and access points he could see, and that didn't even include all of the ones he couldn't. He'd have to do a walk around the perimeter himself to see all of the vantage points one could use as a sniper, but he'd already noticed at least four. A crease formed between his brows as he counted three trees providing direct access to the second floor via branches.

All things he would have to address with his new charge.

Jack thumbed the small sketch of Gabriel Reyes, given to him in the file, and he tried not to think too hard about how many times he'd looked at the little photo. Reyes was... attractive. Dark, hooded eyes, with broad shoulders, and a jawline that Jack had caught himself staring at multiple times- all made the unprofessional side of Jack wish this wasn't a job. Gabriel Reyes was exactly the type Jack would ask out for drinks, and then some.

A soft sigh escaped Jack's lips as the carriage pulled to a stop at the front door, and a young elf dressed in a servant's uniform descended the steps. Jack tucked the picture back into the file, and he placed his derby hat back on his head. The file returned to his bag just as the door was opened for him, and it didn't go unnoticed by Jack that when he smiled at his greeter the pointed tips of his greeter's ears turned a bright red.

“Mr. Morrison?”

Jack nodded again, and the other man looked shyly away.

“Master Reyes has been expecting you,” he gestured for Jack to follow him, and as Jack stepped out he took a slow breath of misty, evening air.

“Could I get your name?” Jack asked as they ascended the stairs, and the servant blinked over at Jack in surprise.

“I... I'm Renneth, sir.”

“Thank you Renneth,” Jack smiled again, and Renneth quickly looked away.

Once inside Rennth took Jack's coat and hat, and he gestured to a waiting room off to the side, where Jack politely took a seat.

“Please wait here while I announce your arrival. I'll return shortly.”

Jack nodded as Renneth bowed politely and departed, and Jack watching him ascend a set of stairs to disappear down a hall on the second floor.

It took about an entire minute before Jack was on his feet and inspecting his surroundings. He'd never been the type to sit still for long, and the new setting only made the new body guard want to explore.

The interior of the manor was as rustic and charming as the exterior, with matching furniture, accents, and artwork. It was... homey, while still a representation of the vast wealth this man must have. It seemed Reyes was a collector, both in certain aesthetics as well as magic items, which were generally not cheap. Most magic items appeared as and ordinary object to those not magically inclined, but as Jack drifted past a vase holding a delicate bouquet of dried flowers, he felt a familiar hum resonate from it's surface. Jack had always had an affinity for sensing magic, and when he noticed two more items held the same vibration, and he wondered what the enchantments might be.

Jack was no wizard or fae, so he'd never be able to learn how to identify magic or it's intended purpose, but the fact that he could sense it at all was odd for a human. Having adoptive parents meant he'd never really know if he had any magical ancestry, but it was unlikely that he did. If there was magic in his blood, Jack should have shown signs by now, puberty was often a time for supernatural abilities to manifest, and after the super soldier serum trials it was obvious he was simply an oddity in his little talent.

A secret project among the Queen's guard and her secret service, the series of experimental injections were meant to enhance the abilities and magical properties of supernatural soldiers receiving the serum. Someone like Jack should not have been a potential candidate at all, but after hearing about the project and taking interest in it's focus- an elite team dedicated to serving the Queen more directly- Jack reached out to his superiors and personally requested to take part. He was a perfect candidate, as far as numbers went, acing every test and check the administrators put in place, and after a short debate over his eligibility, Jack was allowed his place.

Unfortunately, while the serum did cause Jack's body to change, he was stronger, faster, and had reflexes far above the average human, these weren't the types of changes the project was looking for. These were enhanced natural abilities, not magical. Jack was simply an 'exceptional human' – and he was quietly dismissed from the project. The actual results of the project were hidden from anyone not directly involved, and Jack was one of the few who knew the terrible fate he'd narrowly missed.

Despite his disappointment, and the general failure of the project, Jack's dedication to the Crown and his exceptional abilities, new and old, were quickly recognized. It wasn't long before Jack's knack for tactical planning, quick thinking, and ability to lead under pressure were noticed, and he was promoted to a position within the Queen's secret service.

Now Jack was here, babysitting a friend of the Queen. It felt odd to be doing this type of job, and he could think of a few coworkers who might tease him about this assignment. Jack knew he was here because he was trusted, he wouldn't be here if this wasn't important, but it did feel a little strange to be working on his own, without his team.

Jack was startled from his musings when he glanced down the next hall. At the very end stool an ethereal looking woman with dark skin, long brown hair, and an elegant green dress that did not belong to that of a servant. Jack blinked and he tried to remember the mention of a family in the file he'd been given, and he blinked again as her visage wavered. For a moment Jack wasn't sure what he was seeing was real. He gave a small wave and took a step down the hall, only to be stopped by a familiar, and gently frantic voice.

“Mr. Morrison – sir!”

Jack turned to see a flustered Renneth rushing towards him, and when Jack glanced back down the hall the young woman was gone.

“Please sir, I-I didn't know where you'd gone! I'm to bring you up to M- ma- Lord – Lord Reyes' study. Please follow me.”

It surprised Jack that he wasn't scolded for his wandering, but not finding Jack where Renneth had left him had obviously upset the young man, and Jack found himself feeling a little guilty.

“Of course, lead the way Renneth. I have a bad habit of jumping right into work, I'm sorry.”

The servant nodded, Jack's apology seemed to settle his nerves, and he led Jack up the stairs to second floor.

“Can I ask you something Renneth?” Jack asked as they walked. “I wasn't aware there was a lady of the house, who is she?” Jack took silent notes of each little improvement he'd want to make to the security of this particular hallway.

“Excuse me, sir- but there is no lady of the house. L-Lord Reyes has no family, he lives here alone, outside from those of us who work here.”

Jack's brow furrowed but he said nothing more about it. What he'd seen earlier must have been a trick of the light, a result of a long day of travel.

It wasn't long before they were standing in front of the door to the study, and Jack adjusted his suit jacket and vest before thanking Renneth. The elf blushed when addressed and bowed politely before he scurried off down the hall.

He must be new.

Jack mused before he let himself into the study. Once inside he closed the door quietly behind him, and turned to his new employer with one of his most charming smiles.

“Captain Jack Morrison, at your service, Lord Reyes,” he offered the other a small bow before straightening up to face the start of his new assignment.

#reyes #jack #steampunk AU #know you better #almamaldita

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merigreenleaf · 4 years

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Unexpected Inspiration Series Masterpost: About the Main Dorks

The Unexpected Inspiration series is lighthearted, lgbt+ high fantasy set in a contemporary world. If you're into magic, found family, and characters who like to cause mischief, I got you covered! The short stories are all available to read and you can learn more about the series here. You can meet the secondary characters here.

Under the read more is information about each of these main characters.

Name: Adair Cerulean Age: 19 Gender/sexuality: male (trans), bisexual Birthplace: Concordia Occupation: cartographer Magic: Colorweaving (illusion worked via drawing) Traits: cheerful, sweet, affectionate Hobbies: Drawing, painting, cooking, eating

Adair is an arcane painter and cartographer whose illusion/illustration magic channels through art. (Magic is called "weaving" in these stories.) More than a little obsessed with food, particularly pies and desserts, Adair loves cooking almost as much as he loves drawing, spending time with his friends, and puns. Nothing can compare to his love of a groan-worthy joke! Just like a pie, he's sweet, a little flaky, and everyone's always happy to see him. Adair's a trans boy who wears his heart on his sleeve next to the paint stains that regularly splatter his clothes. He's the heart of a misfit group of carnival performers who consider him one of their own. (Character tag- UI POV: Adair / bio moodboard / backstory moodboard / Pinterest board)

Name: Blythe Bladedancer Age: 20 Gender/sexuality: female (cis), demiromantic Birthplace: Concordia Occupation: healer, carnival performer (blades), sentinel Magic: healing/telepathy Traits: stubborn, practical, workaholic Hobbies: weapon training, gardening, fiber arts (embroidery and crochet are her favorites), studying medicine

Blythe is a healer and knife/blade performer for a carnival troupe. She spent much of her life prior to this as a Protectorate, the elite group trained to guard art and artists. Along with Etri, she becomes one of Adair's sentinels. (This is a triad culture; sentinels are the bodyguards/spouses to arcane artists.) She's strong-willed, quick at making decisions, and just as quick to speak her mind. She has a soft spot for those in need and will defend and help anyone who looks like they might need it, even if they insist they don't. Blythe doesn't fear much of anything, except maybe people discovering what else her magic can do-- or one of her friends doing something stupidly dangerous. In her defense, this seems to happen every five minutes. (Character tag- UI POV: Blythe / bio moodboard / backstory moodboard / Pinterest board)

Name: Firedrake (Dray) Age: 21 Gender/sexuality: agender, demiromantic demisexual Birthplace: Galanvoth Occupation: carnival performer (dancer) Magic: Wordweaving (mind-manipulation) and fire Traits: sarcastic, cynical, melodramatic Hobbies: dancing, pranking people, reading

Dray is a carnival performer and dancer more than a little obsessed with props and fire. What was once simply their stage persona of a dragon has gradually taken over their daily appearance. Dray is agender, uses they/them pronouns, and doesn't care an iota about anyone's assumptions of gender. Their entire petite being is fueled by sarcasm, snark, and spite, and their moral compass has a habit of pointing a little off north. Dray tends to use their fire and mind-manipulation magics in retaliation against those who wronged them-- or who they feel deserved it in some way, even if no one else agrees. Under all the bravado is intense loyalty and someone who'd do absolutely anything for the people they love. It’s just that their love frequently involves vaguely-insulting nicknames and an insult contest or five. (Character tag- UI POV: Dray / bio moodboard / backstory moodboard 1 & 2 / Pinterest board)

Name: Etraunjei (Etri) Celeste Age: 23 Gender/sexuality: male (cis), panromantic ace Birthplace: Montglace Occupation: carnival performer (knives and fire) Magic: shadow Traits: introvert, intelligent, protective Hobbies: astronomy, reading, learning as much as he can about as much as he can

Etri is a carnival performer specializing in knives, having previously spent several years working as a reverse-thief where he returned stolen art back to its creators. His magic involves shadows and darkness, allowing him to snuff out light/fire and turn himself nearly invisible-- something that helps both his thieving career and his social anxiety immensely. Etri is the epitome of the expression "cold hands, warm heart"– and not just because his magic leaves his skin noticeably chilly. While he's a reserved introvert with a fear of social situations, he's also kindhearted and intensely loyal to anyone who has gotten past his shy demeanor to earn his friendship. This loyalty and a fiercely protective streak leads him to become one of Adair's sentinels, alongside Blythe. He's the brains of the group and the one most likely to think through a plan. Unfortunately, he's also the one most likely to dive headfirst into the first sign of danger without telling anyone about it. He'd much rather risk himself than have someone else potentially get hurt. (Character tag- UI POV: Etri / bio moodboard / backstory moodboard / Pinterest board)

Name: Solei (Sol) Celeste Age: 23 Gender/sexuality: male (cis), bisexual Birthplace: Montglace Occupation: carnival performer (fire) and inventor Magic: light Traits: goofy, optimistic, friendly Hobbies: tinkering with inventions and broken objects, playing with fire, chatting with everyone

Sol is a fire performer with light/fire magic, but you can usually find him swimming through a dumpster or garbage heap. He's an inventor who uses scraps that no one else wants and the heat from his magic to create objects ranging from useful to "what the heck is this thing?" He always has ideas, although whether they'll work or backfire spectacularly is up in the air– which is frequently where they end up when they backfire. He's something of a genius ditz; he comes off as a vapid, musclebound goofball, but inside that thick head of his is a mind that's always five steps ahead. It's just that they're five steps well off the beaten path and his Sol-ish comments tend to leave people bewildered. As sunny as his chosen name, he's always friendly and eager to help others even when his goofy flavor of help isn't always appreciated. He's Etri's identical twin and they intentionally play off each other's sun/moon, light/dark theme. (Character tag- UI POV: Sol / bio moodboard / backstory moodboard / Pinterest board)

Name: Rosalie Age: 32 Gender/sexuality: female (cis), lesbian Birthplace: Montglace Occupation: priestess Magic: shadow Traits: timid, compassionate, resourceful Hobbies: going to plays and concerts, teaching tricks to shadow elementals

Rosalie is technically a priestess, but she's spent years trying to find a way to tell her partner that she'd rather not be, thanks. Seven years ago she and another priestess were sent away from the Sanctuaries of Shadow and Light in order to complete a specific assignment. This quickly became a task neither women were interested in. In Rosalie's case, she grew to love life far away from her restrictive and dangerous home. She wants nothing more than to stay in Concordia and live a normal life-- until she's pulled outside of linear time with no way to get back. Then she just wants any kind of life. At least she still has her pet shadow, an elemental with dog-like intelligence, and the burgeoning friendship with a strange woman who may also be a traveler in time. (Character tag- UI POV: Rosalie / bio moodboard / backstory moodboard / Pinterest board)

Name: Camille Age: 26 Gender/sexuality: female (cis), asexual Birthplace: Montglace Occupation: priestess Magic: light Traits: confident, ambitious, distrustful Hobbies: studying myths and researching history of magic (won’t admit it, but also enjoys going to plays and concerts with Rosalie)

Camille is a priestess who is great at summoning and controlling light elementals, not so great at listening. Like Rosalie, she has long since lost interest in the task assigned to them by their home temples. Unlike her colleague and closest friend, she is determined to someday go back. The messages they've received from their superiors have grown more and more contradicting and nonsensical over the years, which means something has clearly gone wrong back home. Not lacking in ambition or self-confidence, Camille is determined to prepare herself and Rosalie to take over as high priestesses of their respective Sanctuaries. Camille says it's because both are needed in order to change things, but in truth it's because she can't imagine life without Rosalie by her side. When Rosalie goes missing, Camille finds herself shaken and adrift for the first time in her life. (Character tag- UI POV: Camille / bio moodboard / backstory moodboard / Pinterest board)

Name: Willow Age: 3 Gender: female Owner: Adair Birthplace: Concordia Occupation: chaser of light elementals Traits: curious, mischievous Hobbies: eating paintbrushes, stealing ribbons, locking Sol in the pantry

Willow is the resident cat who sauntered into Blythe's home one day and never left. While technically Adair's cat, she claims ownership over his family to various degrees of agreement. She can frequently be found riding around on Adair's shoulders and nibbling his paint brushes, keeping mice out of Blythe's healing herbs and occasionally trying to eat her plants, snuggled up with Etri while he reads, and sleeping on a pile of Dray's costumes. However, the bulk of Willow's attention is saved for Sol. She's either his arch nemesis or best friend, but no one is sure which. Willow is highly curious and loves to climb into cabinets and pilfer anything shiny or ribbony. Her favorite game is swatting tiny light elementals. Consequently, this is the light elementals' least favorite game. (moodboard)

(Mobile-friendly) Unexpected Inspiration Series Tags & Links:

About the Series: Series & WIP Info / Short Stories / Moodboard Posts (Tag: unexpected inspiration aesthetic) / World Building Posts (Tag: about my world) / Series Tag: Unexpected Inspiration series

About the Characters: Main Character Info (you’re here!) / Secondary Character Info

Character Specific Tags: UI POV: Adair / UI POV: Blythe / UI POV: Dray / UI POV: Etri / UI POV: Sol / UI POV: Rosalie / UI POV: Camille / UI POV: Sapphire / UI POV: Ametrine / UI POV: Skia / UI POV: Feren / UI POV: All (Group/Multiple) / UI POV: Other (Non-Main Characters) / UI POV:Trio (Adair/Blythe/Etri OT3) / UI POV: Firelight (Dray/Sol)

#writing #writeblr #about my characters #unexpected inspiration series #cast of characters #masterpost #UI POV: All #UI POV: Adair #UI POV: Blythe #UI POV: Firedrake #UI POV: Etri #UI POV: Sol #UI POV: Rosalie #UI POV: Camille #decided it would be easier to redo this post than adjust the old one #now to go fix the links everywhere on my blog lol #feel free to reblog this since it's all nicely under a read more :)#UI POV: Dray

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allysartstuff · 4 years

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[Kofi] [Picarto] [Commission Info]

Some may already know I retconned RariPants a little. Digital Art > Drawings > Movies & TV"> I didn’t include Fancy here as this whole thing was big enough already, might make a different post with just him. All the kids cutie marks are the same, just didn't want to draw them.

Rarity

Rarity’s first marriage to Fancy Pants wasn’t as smooth as she hoped. Before, they were on friendly terms and got along well. However, that all changed after a drunken night out in which Rarity became pregnant. Initially, he wanted Rarity to have an abortion descreetly and even offered her money to do so. Rarity, after long talks with her family and friends, decided she had enough emotional and financial support to raise her baby and told Fancy it was his decision if he wanted to be involved or not. Fancy decided he did want to be involved but, unbeknownst to Rarity, planned to woo her so that would marry him and not ‘live in shame’ (Fancy was older than Rarity, had some pretty old fashioned views and liked younger mares anyway). Luckily for him, his plan worked and Rarity fell pretty dang hard for his charm and gentleman ways and they married roughly a year after their first son was born, then called Chic Magnifique.

For the first few years, everything was good. Rarity moved to Canterlot where Fancy and Rarity raised Chic together and eventually decided to have another baby, Ace Dandy. But things started to gradually change. Fancy started staying out later and later, leaving Rarity to raise two very rambunctious boys on her own while working on her three shops from home. When she asked for help (like, y’know raise your fucking kids and no it’s not babysitting, dammit Fancy), his idea was to vigorously train them as perfect little elites. When Rarity saw the negative effects this had on the boys, she blew her top, resulting in many massive arguments. During this time, Rarity finally saw Fancy for who he really was and left him, returning to Ponyville with her sons.

Fleur de Lis

Many years before Rarity met Fancy, Fleur was Fancy’s secret personal bodyguard. A native of Prance and a former secret agent, she came to work for Fancy by chance. Often, Fleur would act like a typical trophy wife who would over fawn and simper over Fancy while on the lookout for anyone who could harm him. She is full capable of kicking anyone’s ass and had saved his butt on a few occasions. The pair became really good friends and the two fell in love and married. However, things began to de-escalate when Fancy wanted her to be his trophy wife for real. After only a year of marriage, Fleur noped out of that relationship and quietly moved to Ponyville, becoming a private Prench teacher while ignoring the Canterlot gossip surrounding her.

A few years later Rarity and Fleur have a chance meeting and, after getting over the awkwardness of the whole ‘holy shit, it’s my ex-husband’s ex-wife, oh fuck’ thing, they begin an understanding friendship and reguarly have tea together. They soon develop real, honest feelings for each other, especially when Fleur got on so well with Chuck and Ace. With the boys’ very eager blessing, Rarity and Fleur marry and have their own child, Opal, via Twilight’s IVF spell. Fancy was not a happy bunny when he found this out.

Chuck Lindsneigh (formerly Chic Magnifique)

A ecentric pony who doesn’t know the volume of his own voice, Chuck is passionate and anything but subtle. He loves nothing more than to go on rousing adventures, fly his plane (which he crashes a lot) and return lost/stolen artifacts to the indegious races of Equestria and beyond. He has a very strong sense of wrong and right and will not rest until it is right again. Despite having a savant-like intelligence in planes, archaeology and ancient pony societies, Chuck has difficulty understanding basic visual communication so he often fails to understand other feelings (eg, why his brother continues to keep in touch with their father) and can be easily lied to (eg, he has fallen for many a scam by Jammie Dodger). This is due to him being autistic, which wasn’t diagnosed until he was an adult, something Rarity feels terribly guilty for. May have an on/off no strings attached relationship with Orin every time he winds up in Manehatten. Hates Fancy Pants and often deliberately sends him bills to places he’s damaged by his plane crashing.

Ace Dandy

Ace lives up to his name as a hoofball superstar, the sport introduced to him by his grandfather Hondo Flanks, as a way to cope with his parent’s divorce. Although smaller than Chuck, he is easily physically stronger and incredibly fast, having both played for Ponyville and Canterlot teams. He takes his celebrity status and image very seriously, taking care of his appearance but also showing endless kindness by donating endlessly to charities and signing every autograph asked from him. As good as his intentions are, this stems from an underlying need to be perfect. His elite training from Fancy and his parents divorce resulted in severe issues. He’d sooner ram his head in a wall than get one thing wrong and little Ace blamed himself for the divorce, despite Rarity’s insistence than it wasn’t his fault. Because of this, Ace accepts his father back in his life when Fancy returns, much to Chuck’s disgust. They have an ok father son relationship but Ace stresses when Fancy makes a minor passing comment or action that something’s not to his liking. Basically, this boy is 50% muscle, 50% anxiety. Ace lives with his long-term boyfriend Bramble at Grand-Pear’s old house. The two are very sugary sweet and don’t know the meaning of PDA. But what Ace loves most about Bramble is his down to earth nature and it never fails to put him at ease (also, he has a cute butt).

Opal

Opal is Rarity’s third and final bab and Fleur’s only biological child. The youngest sib at seventeen, Opal get’s really excited at the most boring things imaginable. She looooves rocks and often believes she was born the wrong species (Opal has a deep admiration for Earth Ponies). As a child, Opal loved going with Rarity on her gem expeditions, although she was more interested in the rock around the glittering gems. She is completely obsessed with Maud Pie and Maud, a little amused and touched by Opal’s eagerness, took it upon herself to become her mentor (Opal fainted on the spot when she was told this). Opal is also autistic (diagnosed as a child and Rarity and Fleur recognised the signs), like Chuck, and will info-dump the hell out of you about rocks. She struggles with reading other’s facial expressions but otherwise is a happy wee soul. Most of the time. Opal was blessed with both her mothers’ beauty which attracted the attention of many teenage colts but they soon dumped her when they realised she would never shut up about rocks. This would plummet her confidence for a while until a meddling little Hullabaloo set her up with his mortified brother Lucky Bug. Now the two can enjoy talking about rocks, bugs and do any cute smooshy teen romance stuff to their hearts’ content.

Extras;

Bramble does not like Fancy one bit, but Ace begs him to be nice when Fancy visits as Bram is known to saying exactly what he thinks.

Chuck loves his family (besides he-who-shall-not-be-named) and pops in every now and again, announcing his return by slamming the door open and yelling, “What-ho!”

Fleur taught all of the kids Prench which they are all fluent in (although Chuck’s accent is atrocious).

When Rarity and Fleur became engaged, Chuck and Ace asked her if they could call her ‘Maman’. She cried ugly tears of joy at that.

Chuck and Ace adore their little half sister and would probably stomp on all of her ex-boyfriends if given the chance.

Opal was born via emergency c-section. Fleur will tell anyone who would listen that her c-section scar is her favourite of all her scars.

Ace is willing to model any new line of clothes Rarity makes.

My Little Pony, Rarity and Flaur de Lis (c) Hasbro

Chuck Lindsneigh, Ace Dandy and Opal (c) me

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lifeaftermeteor · 6 years

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So You Want to Build a Preventers Organization...

@kirinjaegeste asked about this in the GW Discord Channel and I thought it would maybe be useful for other Gundam Wing writers too. Keep in mind that nothing—and I mean nothing—is universal, and because canon material is so amorphous there's really no wrong way to do this. But this is how I did it, and figured I'd share.

Also, although this particular write-up is Gundam Wing specific, the things addressed here I think would help anyone who's looking to build an organization from the ground-up for their story.

What is the Charter?

First thing to ask yourself is what is this organization supposed to do because that will guide the size, the missions, the "concept of operations" (i.e. how it all works together), and any conflict that stems from these aspects down the line in your story.

If the Preventers in your story is primarily a peacekeeping operation, forward-deployed into high-risk countries (or orbital colonies) that need a non-partisan, unbiased presence, that is one kind of charter. If it's an elite entity that operates outside the bounds of standard legal, political, or military operations and is meant to suppress or defuse crises before they arise, that's a very different charter. Are they glorified bodyguards for the ESUN political elite? Different charter. Are they a liaison entity, bridging the judicial gaps between Earth and space? Yet another charter.

So to reiterate: Step #1 = what is it supposed to do?

And now add the finer details...

How many people are in its ranks? Managing an elite force of ~30 people is very different from a multi-million person enterprise with global operations. For LAM, I gave the Preventers an expanded charter—after the Barton Insurrection—to include a multi-faceted operational responsibility: liaison, advisory, peacekeeping, intel, crisis-prevention and mitigation. I thus took a page out of the DoD's book and gave it a couple million people to manage (DoD at present, if you include service members, reservists, and civilians, is at about 2.8 million people…more if you add in contractors). That leads you to the next question...

What is the structure of the organization? Again, depending on the size of the organization, how you herd cats differs. Some options to consider:

Hub-n-Spokes Model: There is a strong centralized presence with smaller field offices/teams spread out across different regions. Although the field offices retain autonomy, the hub serves as the primary authority and connects the various operations to ensure coordination.

Diffuse (Mission-Oriented): There are multiple offices, all of which are separate entities responsible for certain missions or duties - e.g., you have one office stationed in New York that is responsible for XX mission, another in Brussels that handles YY mission. There is likely an "HQ" or "Office of the Director," but they are focused more on administrative or overarching support/coordination and the individual, geographical, mission-focused offices themselves retain a lot of independent authority to do their jobs with minimal coordination with and oversight from a centralized entity.

De-centralized: No "HQ" for all intents and purposes. Leadership sets broad mission, vision, and goal, but personnel have authority to act on their own accord with little-to-no oversight or direction. Think about how terrorist cells are constructed—you get rid of the leadership, the entity keeps on truckin'. The cells are likewise disconnected from one another, so if you take one out, there are others that will continue the mission unimpeded.

HQ + Branch Offices (not mission-oriented): The model used for LAM, Headquarters is the arm and the power and the authority; the branch offices are mini-HQs with multi-functional teams that serve as liaisons and first line of defense for regionally focused Preventers work. Think of it in terms of diplomacy: if the Preventers HQ is the equivalent of the State Department (or Ministry of Foreign Affairs, etc.), then the Branch Offices are the Embassies and Consulates. This provides some autonomy for day-to-day operations, but the staff at the Branches constantly go back and forth with regional or functional teams at HQ and derive their mandate (i.e. their authority to do something) from HQ itself.

Clandestine or Not? Another element to consider is whether or not the general populace knows about the Preventers. Are they a shadowy, super secret organization staffed entirely by ghosts? Or are they a household name? Or are they somewhere in between—known of but not necessarily understood. I've seen all of these manifest in the fandom at various points and it really depends on what role you need them to play in your story. If you need Duo to go and off someone in a situation that Une can disavow all knowledge if things go sideways on him, that's one kind of entity. Alternatively, if—like in LAM—you need them to serve as a bridge between Earth and the colonies, a voice for former combatants, and a symbol of the future (i.e., "drop your past affiliations so we can protect the peace together"), then that's a different kind of organization entirely.

What support do they need and how do they get it? Now that you've figured out the mission, the size, and the structure, what are the operational requirements for the Preventers to do their job? No one works in a vacuum, so based on their job duties, who supports them? Lethal or non-lethal? Private industry involved or in-house only? Black market and black budgets? Or are all acquisitions recorded on triplicate? Do agents get a stipend to do with as they please in order to get the mission done, or are supplies provided by a central authority? Do they work with local authorities and law enforcement or do they operate under the radar?

Who's in charge and what does their job entail? Information relay and duty tasking are important parts of any organization, big and small, but what that looks like is influenced by the questions you've answered above. For the AC universe, it's generally accepted that Lady Une becomes the Preventers Director at some point during AC 196. But what does that role entail? Does she personally task actions to lower ranks or has she delegated that authority down to Deputy Directors and Deputy Assistant Directors and so on? What are the limits of her authority? Does she have to report to anyone? That brings us to the next question to ask yourself...

Who retains oversight of the organization? Or more bluntly, who goes to jail when shit gets fucked up? Constraints on power and influence are part of life—whether you're talking about governments, non-profits, militaries, businesses, etc. There are rules and regulations that dictate how institutions can and should act. There are checks and balances, both within and external to an organization. Based on the world you're constructing, who is checking the Preventers' homework? In LAM!verse, I opted to create an Oversight Committee within the ESUN specifically to retain ESUN visibility into Preventers operations. This committee has Preventers leadership brief them on things that matter to them or that impact their constituencies, provide reports on everything from budget numbers to personnel (including past affiliations) to acquisition needs for operational support. They also retain the right to remove the Preventers Director through a vote of no-confidence. So while the Director is all-important within the Preventers itself, they are still beholden to the ESUN through the Committee.

Relationship with Other Entities? Regardless of the question of "oversight" above, there is this separate question of, "Who does the organization interact with and what does that look like?" Depending on the role, missions, size, structure, and function of the Preventers in your story, their relationship to other national or international organizations could change. We know from Endless Waltz that (1) the President was an elected official and knew about the Preventers, and (2) the President or the ESUN was funding them. Obviously this sets some expectations on all sides. Is there tension inherent in interactions due to structural or institutional characteristics? Are there "champions" of the Preventers outside of the organization that support what they're trying to do? Are there naysayers? Are those supporters/detractors at the institutional level (i.e. from national, international, or ESUN itself) or at the individual level (representatives, senators, national leaders, the ESUN President)? What are the "atmospherics" as we call it here—i.e., what is the emotional space in which this organization is operating?

On or Off the Rails?

Now that you've built the Preventers CONOPs and other structural and legal matters, time to think about what RIGHT looks like. When this entity is doing its job in accordance with its Charter and its mandate, what is happening (or not happening if that’s easier to answer)? Obviously in the case of Preventers you could say "crises are averted" but that's a surface-level assessment. What are people inside the organization happy about? What are people outside the organization happy about? How is it impacting the world around them? What are they contributing?

Now that you know, next is to determine what WRONG looks like and what kind of wrong you’re looking for.

Out of Bounds: the organization has breached its Charter and gone above and beyond what they’re technically supposed to be doing. This can be willful/intentional or unintentional, the latter occurring when a sudden need arose and either (a) no one came forward to handle it, or (b) the organization was thrust forward by outside/oversight forces in a “this is now your job, fix it!” sense.

Scope Creep: related to the “out of bounds” possibility is what’s called “scope creep” wherein an organization starts doing stuff that it wasn’t originally intended or tasked to do. However, I separate it out here to capture a separate factor: what they’re doing is still technically within bounds of the Charter. This happens when a Charter either (a) is too broad to effectively eliminate things from the “acceptable duties” list, or (b) someone of authority decided to reinterpret the legal limitations the Charter imposes. Sometimes (b) is followed by actual legislative change to make the new interpretation a reality (see Constitutional Amendments). A note on this one: reinterpretation of the right and left limits of what is “okay” is not inherently a bad thing. It’s how that’s perceived and the nature of the execution itself that matters.

Failure of Checks and Balances: often related to “out of bounds” and/or “scope creep” is a more generalized lack of oversight and checks/balances on your organization. When no entity can rival or counter-balance an organization, they can get an inflated sense of authority and power. This can lead to lead to them doing what they want because either “No one can stop me,” or “Who else is going to do it.”

Crisis of Leadership: the organization needs a strong leader who can effectively provide vision/direction/tasking and no longer as one (leaving the organization direction-less), or the organization can handle a weak leader but suddenly has a megalomaniac at the helm. Both of these are problems that arise at the top and have trickle-down effects on everyone below them, making the institution ineffective at best and dangerous because the people who should be in charge aren’t anymore.

Crisis of Personnel: aka, “the peasants are revolting!” Your staff have gone off on their own and are doing their own thing, either belligerently against orders/tasking/guidance or due to general ignorance of what leadership is aiming to do. Sometimes this will come about in conjunction with Crisis of Leadership, often in response to something wrong happening at the top.

What Kind of Conflict Do You Need?

I won’t delve into this one too much because it goes beyond the scope—LOL!—of this post, but I think it’s important to note all the same. Depending on what kind of conflict you need to drive your plot forward, here are some things to think about:

Rapid on-set, mission-based: the organization took on a sudden role or expanded its authorities to respond to a specific crisis or need at hand. The change happened quickly and was because of this crisis, rather than some internal driver.

Slow burn, can’t-stop-a-moving-train: the organization gradually evolves over time, does not raise alarm bells from people either outside or inside the institution. It’s only well after a new status quo has been established after a time that someone stops and says, “Wait a minute. What the hell…?”

Surprise, bitch: aka, the ‘military coup’ option wherein the entity takes power, often by force (bloodless or otherwise) and no one can stop them

#gundam wing #preventers #writing reference

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yuri-or-death · 6 years

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Spellbound 05: Initiation (JuriSaku)

CHAPTER: 01, 02, 03, 04, 05

Main Characters : Matsui Jurina, Miyawaki Sakura Pairings: JuriSaku, WMatsui, NanaSaku/SakuNaa, JuriMomo (friendship), and more.

Summary : Matsui Jurina is the immovable ace of St. Hildegard’s School of Magic. Considered a protégé by many Wizard Saints, her technique and mastery is second to none. Enter Miyawaki Sakura, talentless, unrefined and socially awkward. Her golden ticket for admission into the elite school is her late father’s legacy.

What happens when Sakura suddenly gets transferred to the Special Class because of a lottery? Will the mysterious ace take interest? (Magic School AU)

XXXX

The sun burned brightly this morning, the brightest it had been in the last two weeks. It was mostly clouds and rain since the week started, but now the rays of the sun could almost sear through fabric.

Even so, no amount of sunshine could faze Watanabe Mayu. Her system was carefully crafted to withstand any weather condition. When it was too hot, her sensors would stabilize her body temperature and the cold wasn't a problem either—cyborgs don't get hypothermia. Though she did need built-in heat foils under her silicon skin to prevent her circuits from freezing.

“You’re up early.” She acknowledged Sayaka who was standing by the dorm’s gate seemingly waiting for her.

A ghost of a smile crossed Sayaka’s countenance as she swung her jacket over her shoulder. Her usually punkish style was dressed down to St. Hildegard Academy’s regular polo shirt and gray skirt. The first buttons of her blouse were undone and her deep red tie hung loosely around her neck. Yet despite her carefree appearance, her strong aura was enough to unsettle any novice mage in training just by standing there. “Today will be interesting.” She almost skipped on her way out.

Mayu matched Sayaka’s steps perfectly as they made their way towards the main building. “Only because Miyawaki Sakura has become quite a commodity.” The cyborg’s tone as she spoke betrayed her disinterest. It seemed Okada Nana wasn’t the only who could put two and two together. Mayu’s astral scan of Miyawaki on the first day she appeared in class proved handy, as expected. She was able to read the spike of aura almost instantly as the distortion occurred.

“You think I can get her in my roster?”

“Statistical probability is 25%...If they do proceed with the Baptism today that is.”

“I’m sure the dimensional shift last night won't stop the Headmaster from conducting the initiation.” Sayaka rubbed her chin. “I’m actually quite excited to see if Miyawaki is indeed what we think she is.”

“Shouldn’t you be steering away from all this?” There was almost a slight hint of taunting in Mayu’s robotic voice. “When was the last time you appeared in The Round, even?”

“I can enjoy a good show as long as I’m not the one tied in strings.” Sayaka refused to answer the second question. The Round--it was the Matsui Conglomerate’s circle of elites, the group of clans who answered to the beck and call of Jurina’s grandfather. Sayaka wanted nothing to do with it, not after what happened last year.

~*~*~*~

Professor Shinoda placed her teacup back on its coaster. She watched the cluster of students in the courtyard from the window, her eyes seemed to darken under the shadows of the curtains.

“Mari—”

Mariko’s mind was elsewhere, unable to recognize the soft timbre of Haruna’s voice. The latter had been trying to strike a conversation for the past few minutes, to no avail. The adviser of the Special Class was too deep in thought.

Finally, Haruna feigned a cough. “Mari-chan, you’ve been listless since yesterday.” She said before taking a bite of her strawberry scone. Her free hand hovered over the teacup’s rim, slender fingers glided against its porcelain mouth. “Why is that?”

“Are you not shaken at all? We’ve been breached.”

“I am. I’ve doubled sentinel patrols, even as far as flying around myself. But there’s no point in dwelling too much..”

“I’m sorry.” Mariko sighed in defeat. Her confidante was right, what has passed cannot be undone. “It’s just that our meeting last night lingers like a shadow.” As she closed her eyes, she could recount last night’s events perfectly as a mage looking into an enchanted mirror.

Miyawaki Sakura entered the Headmaster’s office, her brown eyes flickered with youthful inquisitiveness. She wanted answers, an explanation--anything to hold onto-- for the upheaval she caused.

The Headmaster, Professor Shinoda, Miss Kojima and Jurina turned to her direction. Their body language indicated that the newcomer had interrupted an ongoing debate.

Jurina’s hands fisted on her sides, while Haruna held the Ace’s shoulder as if to subdue her.

At the center of the Sakura’s panorama was the Headmaster, seated behind his desk; eyes obscured by the glint of his glasses.

“Thank you for joining us, Miss Miyawaki.” The Headmaster finally addressed her. He motioned for her to come closer with his right hand.

Sakura could feel Jurina’s heavy gaze upon her, as if silently trying to implore her to turn back and get out of the room fast.

“It is my honor.” Sakura tried to sound reverent. Although she spoke to the Headmaster, she held Jurina’s gaze. What was the older girl thinking? Why had she grown so pensive?

“How are you feeling?” The Headmaster asked.

“Great, never better, honestly.”

Mariko couldn’t stop her eyebrow from rising as she scrutinized the young girl in question. She was thoroughly apprised of what had transpired when Jurina activated Valhalla but was not content with just the Ace’s narrative. “Haruna told me you couldn’t fully recall the details of the attack.” She prodded.

“Yes, I blacked out after Jurina-san was injured. I can only remember a burning feeling engulfing my body.”

The Headmaster nodded, as if perfectly knowledgeable of Sakura’s circumstances. Like he was anticipating a move in a chess game that was all too familiar. As he laid down his glasses on the wooden desk, a ring of blue light appeared on his left iris.

He mumbled an incantation. “Give me your hand, Miyawaki-san.”

Just then, the towering Grandfather clock chimed, its deep, somber tune echoed as midnight fell.

Sakura obeyed. She placed her hand atop the Headmaster’s open palm. Thin silver lines started to crawl on her wrist until it took the pattern of a celtic cross.

“That mark,” Jurina recognized the insignia. It was the same one that appeared after Sakura’s aura flared up.

The silver pattern was reflected on Sakura’s wide eyes. “What...is this…?” At her words, the air in the room seemed to concentrate around her like a whirlwind. The windows blasted open and everything in the Headmaster’s office shook from the pressure of her astral force; building up, spiraling, scattering.

Mariko, Haruna and Jurina stood there unfazed; activating a defensive barrier of their own as trinkets and potions shattered, books leapt out of their shelves.

The Headmaster’s strong grip on Sakura’s hand did not waiver. “The White One has branded you, Miyawaki Sakura. But now is not the time to break your chains.”

Using her free hand, Sakura tried to shield her face from the strong gust of wind. “I don’t understand any of this!” Her thoughts were all jumbled again; the sensations flooding her like an angry tempest.

Nothing was making sense. Power, so much power that it burned like white-hot pain. Just a few days ago she couldn’t even properly cast a levitation spell but now, her whole being was leaking with astral energy for the second time today.

“Jurina, come here.” The Headmaster commanded. “Negate her.” His tone was sharp and dark and foreboding but Sakura could barely make out the words.

Jurina raised her hand, slender fingers wove through the air to create a magic circle. Pain shot through the blonde’s senses like lightning coursing down her spine. Still, she tried to compose herself—the mark of the serpent burning brightly on her wrist.

“Abyssum Vaqui.” In a flash, the wind swirling around Sakura, the spiritual pressure that hung heavily disappeared as if sucked by a vacuum.

“J-Jurina...san--” Sakura mouthed before she collapsed into Jurina’s arms.

An unseen force brought the blonde girl to her knees, her branded hand was shaking against Sakura’s back as they both crouched down on the floor.

“The Round will not approve of this, Headmaster.” Jurina softly hissed despite her labored breathing, still overcome by the pain of her curse mark. Her arm was draped over Sakura quite protectively.

“Your Grandfather will understand.”

Sakura somewhat regained her sensibilities. She lifted her head to look Jurina in the eye. “Please tell me what’s happening—” Before she could finish her sentence, Professor Shinoda tapped her forehead and she fell into deep slumber.

Jurina glanced at her adviser, there was a defiant glint in her eyes, discontent was burning inside her. “She deserves an explanation not putting her to sleep again..”

Mariko understood the blonde girl’s displeasure. “It is not yet her time.” That was the only semblance of an explanation she could offer.

“You did well, Jurina.” The Headmaster would not usually mouth off praises here and there, but tonight his favorite student earned it.

“We have confirmed Miyawaki-san’s identity, Headmaster.” Haruna said while prying away Sakura’s unconscious body from Jurina’s grasp. “From here on out, please proceed with extreme caution.”

Haruna’s last words rang inside Mariko’s head like a bell toll, indeed they were treading about dangerous waters.

“Mari-chan shall we start preparing for the Baptism today?”

“Yes, but before that, I have a delivery to make.”

~*~*~*~

Momoka watched as Jurina scribbled notes on her syllabus. “What were you doing in the Headmaster’s office last night?” She whispered.

Their History professor was writing something on the board while droning on about the Fall of the Roses. This was a regular class attended by 3rd year students of the Academy and it was boring the bodyguard to death.

The strokes of the fountain pen against the paper were elegant and concise. “Why should I tell you?”

“Because I’m the one who picked you up, half-collapsed on the dormitory lobby. You can’t keep spreading yourself too thin like this.”

Jurina did not reply. She barely made it to her room conscious last night.

“If they keep making you use void, I’ll have to tell your Grandfather pretty soon.”

The Ace finally lifted her gaze from her writing. Momoka rightfully earned her full attention.“You will say nothing.”

“J, I’m not exactly the number one fan of your quest for self-destruction.” Jurina’s frequent passing out was becoming alarming, especially for Momoka.

“And you think telling Grandfather will make any difference? Do it, if you want to see me all locked up.”

“That’s not what I—”

The bell chimed signaling the end of the joint class. Students almost skipped out of the study hall, eager for recess.

Momoka tailed Jurina, like always. But today the blonde was more distant than usual. When the tide of students finally passed and only the two of them stood in the middle of the corridor, the bodyguard spoke once more.

“Look, I’m just worried.”

Jurina glanced behind, locking gazes with the single person she could fully trust. “I’m sorry for being difficult, Momo.” It was crystal clear to her how much Momoka was trying.

“Stop rushing into things on your own.”

Jurina wanted to promise she’d avoid danger, that she wouldn’t risk confronting Lady Jeopardy again and again and again just so she could find an ending to their decade-old struggle. She would do anything for a chance to pick up the broken pieces and right things one last time.

“It’s complicated.”

“You offend me. Am I so weak that I can’t stand by your side?”

The hurt in Momoka’s voice was difficult to miss. She spent her whole life fighting to get stronger. Jurina was the sun and though Momoka was a mere comet in orbit, were all the years of untainted fidelity to her benefactor not enough?

Jurina scratched the back of her neck. She did not mean to disgrace Momoka. It’s just that, death followed her like a longing shadow that she would take any chance to steer her good friend away from its clutches. Momoka was her knight but that doesn’t mean she was expendable.

“I’ve lost Sayanee already, I can’t...” Jurina tried to put her apprehension into words but Momoka was quicker to snap back.

“Let me make my choice—to live, to die, to struggle--it is only mine.”

The ace sighed in resignation. “Fine,” She had lost this mental battle and the price was to come clean. “Sakura has the mark. It won’t be long until she fully awakens.”

Momoka’s brows furrowed deeply as she soaked in the information. “Your meeting in the solarium that day—were you the catalyst?”

“I didn’t understand at first, but It seems our astral energies have been reacting.” Memories of their first encounter in the glass garden, the falconry match and the breach flashed back in her mind. “The pieces are falling into place.”

“Tell me Jurina, can we still stop this?”

~*~*~*~

The girls in the corridor eyed Sakura from head to foot as she and Haruka passed by. It seemed the gossip mill was yet to die down and the fact of Sakura’s transfer to the Special Class was still a cause for disdain to the regular students.

“Hey Saku-chan,” Nana came from behind Sakura and Haruka who were on their way to the cafeteria. Haruka could swear she heard a few whines from the girls as Nana came to them. Something like “Why is Naachan with the dunce?” “That girl’s been leeching on Jurina-san too!” “I bet she’s so full of herself now.”

“Naachan,” Sakura acknowledged. “Good day to you.” She smiled, paying no heed to the girls ostracizing her.

“I was supposed to ask you about what happened. But the Professor suddenly summoned you last night.” Nana said, falling in the same pace as the two freshmen.

“Even I am yet to be apprised of what has transpired.” Haruka interjected. She had tried a few times to get Sakura to speak about it, but the latter would only say her memories were blurry.

“Yeah, umm...about that,” Sakura started, “everything’s a bit hazy honestly.” She scratched the back of her head while chuckling nervously. “I don’t think I went to the Headmaster’s office...I…fell asleep.” Sakura tried a hundred times to recall the events yesterday but there was this cloud in her mind that would not let up.

“Really? You are so dead!” Haruka sounded exasperated, and quite rightfully so. She was Sakura’s best friend and being kept in the dark about all of this made her uneasy. But it’s not like this was Sakura’s fault, Haruka debated in her head.

“I swear. I only remember Jurina-san rushing in to save me. She was injured.” Sakura’s expression turned glum at the thought of the blonde ace risking her neck, yet again, for her sake. No matter how many times she berrated herself for failing to remember, the recollection of yesterday’s events was simply elusive. Did she hit her head hard...or something?

“Must be the shock.” Nana surmised. She held onto Sakura shoulder and comforted the younger girl. “It’s okay. What matters is that you’re safe.”

Sakura was definitely caught off guard by the prefect’s sudden gesture. She felt her cheeks flush and was thankful they had reached the non-crowded part of the corridor. Otherwise, she was so sure Naachan’s fangirls would rip her to shreds.

“If you need anything Saku-chan, please come to me.” What was this warm feeling suddenly gripping her heart? She’s just really nice, Sakura. Sakura repeated like a mantra in her head. Nana’s gaze was so magnetic that it reminded Sakura of a certain blonde.

Sakura and Nana could probably stare at each other the whole lunch period but Haruka would have none of it. “Jurina-san has been tangled in your affairs recently.” Haruka huffed. “Just what impression are you trying to make Saku-chan?”

“Impression?” Sakura almost choked, the mention of Jurina’s name seemed to unhinge certain gears in Sakura’s brain.

“You’re probably number one on the hit list of Jurina-san’s fangirls.” Haruka added.

“But I’m not doing anything!”

“Except playing the damsel in distress.” Haruka snickered. Teasing Sakura was quite enjoyable from time to time. Nana, on the other hand, only looked at Sakura; her gaze, unreadable.

“Haruka, it’s not like I enjoy it when Jurina-san—”

“When I what?”

The three girls jolted as if an electric current had suddenly shot through them. Matsui Jurina stood ahead, just a few steps away. Her regal figure was commanding enough to stop them in their tracks. She looked like she was engaged in a conversation with Momoka and Yui beforehand.

Sakura’s mouth gaped open mid sentence. Her mind unable to coherently form her thoughts.

“J-Jurina...san, good d-day.” Haruka almost did a curtsy.

Nana turned to the ace and gave her a greeting in the form of a slight nod, which the latter returned.

“When I do what, Sakura?” Jurina repeated, too curious as to why she had become the subject of these girls’ conversation. She tilted her head to the side, her gaze did not leave Sakura’s face.

“Uh...I…” Sakura stammered.

“You don’t like me, Sakura?” There was a hint of hurt in Jurina’s voice. Whether it was genuine or just part of her teasing the younger girl, it wasn’t crystal clear.

Panic gripped Sakura. “No! Of course I do! I mean that’s not….I don’t…” Forming a coherent sentence was becoming quite challenging for the transfer student who was turning a deeper shade of red by the second.

Jurina sighed but then smiled. She was well aware that Sakura’s memories were partially wiped out but still couldn’t help but pry. “You sure you’re ok?” She came forward to check on Sakura’s temperature—her lithe fingers lingered on Sakura’s forehead.

The feeling of Jurina’s cold touch against her skin seemed to magnify the young girl’s spiral into an incoherent mess.

This was insane. Sakura wanted to evaporate. Her dream of Jurina, as a valiant knight, saving her from falling and embracing her firmly replayed in her mind. What was happening here? Did she just actively recount her lucid dream of Jurina? Why was she even having lucid dreams of Jurina? It only served to plunge her into a deeper frenzy.

“If you keep teasing her, you’ll ‘overheat’ the poor girl, J.” Momoka interrupted, seeing how Sakura was blushing redder than a blood ruby. It was more of her enjoying highlighting the young girl’s predicament than her being concerned though.

“Maybe you should skip class today? You look really flushed.” Jurina advised while stepping away and falling back into place between Yui and Momoka.

Sakura opened her mouth to speak, her heart hammered in her chest. Don’t do this Sakura. Don’t embarrass yourself further. Don’t. “Jurina-san...I—”

“Jurinaaaa~” Miru appeared out of nowhere, her arm linking with Jurina’s. She rested her chin on the ace’s shoulder and deliberately turned Sakura’s way to see the freshman’s reaction. “I’m sorry for my actions the other day. That was quite unbecoming of me.” She apologized, her overly sweet voice bothered Sakura to no end.

This was the girl who just actively tried to demolish Jurina’s reputation the other day; The girl who wanted to kick Sakura out of the Special Class. Now she was acting like some Mary Magdalene-- Oh! Woe to thee, repentant sinner.

“I understand,” was Jurina’s response. And Sakura was honestly disappointed the ace didn’t make it harder for this wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“Please, let’s have lunch together. It’s a peace offering.” Miru’s grip on Jurina’s blazer was firm. She obviously would not accept a “no.”

“Only if you promise to play nice.” Jurina replied, the calm and reserved air about her did not shift the slightest. Miru muttered something incoherent before dragging Jurina.

“No you don’t!” Momoka grunted while trying to pry Miru away from the blonde.

“H-hey! Let go you brute!! I don’t want you in my date with Jurina!”

“What date? You delusional woman! I’m her bodyguard!”

“Please excuse us.” Yui bowed to Sakura’s group, still chuckling lightly at the turn of the events. ”I hope you’ve recovered, Sakura-chan. Have a good day.” She said before taking her leave.

~*~*~*~

Sae was sitting on one of the benches behind the school’s main building. She was busy fumbling with her communicator. It has almost been a week since she arrived in St. Hildegard and she was already starting to worry about the partner she left in the Special Forces.

“Sae, it’s been a while.”

Sae lifted her gaze and immediately perked up at the sight of her former team mate. “Yuko! How are things in the bureaucratic maze?” She buried her communicator deep in her coat pocket and shifted her attention to the woman in front of her.

Yuko gave her a toothy grin. “Ever so dull. I thought it would be more interesting in Central Dogma.” She sat beside Sae on the bench, her left arm spread out on the backrest. “How about you? Having a blast in the Special Forces?” The hunter gazed up at the sky, a flock of birds passed her line of vision.

“I was. Until the Prime Minister sent me back here to train these kids.” There were clear hints of lethargy in Sae’s voice. She placed a hand on her forehead and started to massage it. Almost a week in the Headmaster’s playground and she has yet to give a lecture. What kind of instructor did they want her to be anyway?

“The Headmaster probably requested that.“ Yuko’s gaze did not leave the sky. There was a forebodding feeling floating in her chest. That Miyawaki girl will be targeted again and the Headmaster was trying too much to leave Central Dogma in the dark about her. Should she report this to her superiors? Should she let the Headmaster do as he wished? Should she involve herself in their affairs? “Sae... something’s coming.” And though she could not see the expression on Sae’s face, she knew the other fighter was as vigilant as her.

“The intruders yesterday, they weren’t just some small fry mercenaries.” Sae concluded. True, she was not present when the confrontation occured, but Haruna and Mariko were quick to fill her in.

“That’s right. And they will come again.” Yuko closed her eyes before taking in a deep breath.

“Hey, Yuko….shouldn’t you be starting with the Baptism of the neophytes?”

The hunter nodded. An Overseer— such was the role she would play for today...maybe for a longer time even. Central Dogma and St. Hildegard Academy had a partnership, a mutual co-existence that forced her to keep her presence in this institution even if she wished for nothing else but to move forward. The Headmaster was ever cruel, giving them the freedom to walk out the gates but never to fly away.

“Yes, Takamina’s probably waiting. Will you be observing the initiation rights, Sae?”

“Sure. Those kids will be my students after all.”

~*~*~*~

Sakura found herself inside the Hall of Transfiguration, a church like structure at the zenith of the school’s main building. It was an altar where mages and hunters were conferred the Holy One’s blessing.

The tall concrete walls were intimidating, light shone from the windows, hitting the four crystal pillars that were erected on each corner of the glass platform. The stairs leading to the platform were embellished with red glowing orbs on each side. At the center of the platform was a magic seal, it was glowing a bright blue hue.

The sound of rushing water echoed inside the hall. Water fell from the eastern and western walls, forming a pool just below the elevated platform.

Sakura’s gaze was on the Hunter from Central Dogma who was in the middle of the platform.

Takahashi Minami, despite her short stature, carried an air of authority about her. Hands clasped behind her back, she paced to and fro like a general giving the order of battle to her subordinates. “As you may know, I am Takahashi Minami and my partner, who will soon join us, is Oshima Yuko. We are your Overseers for this year’s Baptism.”

The students in front of her listened carefully, unable to break their concentration from the famed alumna of St. Hildegard.

“What’s happening?” Sakura whispered to Haruka.

“The initiation rights, you’re going to be baptized...”

“And you’re not included in this? You’re a freshman too.”

“I entered earlier than you, Rika and Mion, remember? It was a special program endorsed by the Pres.” Haruka shifted her glance to Yui who was standing still beside Takamina, a smile ever present in her motherly facade.

“Why do you always leave me hanging??”

“Hey, I have nothing to do with you winning the lottery...”

Sakura sighed. She was already sure she would flunk this, god save her.

“Freshmen, come forward.” Takamina commanded. “A baptism by fire awaits you today. Take pride in this, for only the chosen ones are given the opportunity pledge allegiance to Central Dogma this early in their lives.”

“What is she talking about?”

“You get to be a hunter even before graduation, Sakura. Didn’t you read the handbook?”

Before Sakura could answer, she was pushed forward by Haruka. I didn’t sign up for this. Sakura wanted to become a hunter alright. But not this soon. She would’ve preferred actually learning magic first. But alas! Lady Destiny loved to toy with her.

Sakura looked around, her wide eyes searching. Mion and Rika seemed to be okay with this. They were waiting for Takamina’s next directive.

On the left side of the room, Sayanee and Mayu were watching. To Sakura, they gave off the feeling of being ‘outsiders’. Observant and non-committal; pragmatic and disconnected. Annin and Yuria stood beside them, the pair, on the other hand, were eager to finally have some form of entertainment.

Sakura gazed behind, Momoka and Jurina were at the far back of the Hall. Momoka whispered something to Jurina but the ace’s eyes were fixed on Sakura. The weight of her stare disarmed the transfer student, it sent a shiver down her spine. But Jurina only seemed to nod at her, motioning her too look back to the front.

Sakura did so. Her undivided attention returned to the hunter before them.

Takamina surveyed the three freshmen students. “For this activity, you will be divided into three groups.” She said and as if on cue, Oshima Yuko materialized beside her, a goblet in hand.

“All of you take a gem from the cup.” Yuko commanded, offering the goblet to all of the students instead of just the three. Her signature bestial grin adorned her face. This exhilaration is what she lived for—danger, surprises, non-conformity.

“Ehh?” Confusion was crystal clear in Haruka’s face. She just went through this not too long ago, the memories (and the bruises) were too fresh.

“With all due respect, but we already have our senbatsu passes, you can’t force us to join the Baptism of the freshmen.” Miru retorted. She just had her manicure, rough labor was not part of today’s schedule.

“Is this even allowed? They have to work for their place on their own efforts.” For once, Kizaki Yuria and Shiroma Miru were in agreement over something. Was the world ending soon?

“I do not appreciate being dragged into this.” Annin’s melancholic voice added.

Takamina did not answer. She merely stepped to the side and allowed Yuko to take the stage.

“Consider this the new method. The old one was getting boring.” She snapped and in the next breath, the walls of the Hall of Transfiguration and everything else around them disintegrated into small particles of magic dust.

They found themselves in the middle of a forest, the verdant roof was too thick that it blocked out the sun.

Sakura’s face scrunched up in confusion. “You gotta be kidding me…” Everything about the Special Class was insane. She looked at Haruka on her right and then at Nana on her other side. Haruka had a defeated look on her face while Nana just shrugged with a weak smile.

“Now take a gem from the cup and let’s start the Baptism.” Yuko’s tone darkened, the severity of her grin could force anyone into submission.

“Are you okay with this Jurina?” Momo asked.

“It’s Yuko-san...not like we have a choice.”

~*~*~*~

The crystal walls of the Hall of Transfiguration showed the images of the students wandering in the forest. Each group was projected on a different wall and the three women stood on the platform as mere spectators in this game arranged by Central Dogma’s hunters.

“Whose idea was this?” Sae asked, still confused with the turn of events. “This is outside protocol.”

“Yuko of course.” Mariko replied, her gaze never leaving the northern wall which projected Sakura’s group. The transfer student was with Yamamoto Sayaka, Iriyama Anna and Matsui Jurina.

“I think it’s rather interesting. They get to test out team dynamics while working on individual growth.” Haruka responded. She was particularly drawn to Watanabe Mayu’s group. Shiroma Miru, Kinoshita Momoka and Nakai Rika were with the cyborg.

“This isn’t rigged...right?” Mariko was still looking at Sakura and Jurina’s images on the crystal wall. What a coincidence—the two of them in the same group.

“Hmmmm….” Haruna twirled around motioning to exit the hall. “Want to take bets?” She smiled.

~*~*~*~

“Well..I bet this was definitely out of your calculations, eh Mayu-san?” Miru commented while reading a scroll.

The cyborg did not answer, she merely scanned her surroundings, drinking in each detail of the terrain they were traversing. Where was the end of this path of trees? It was almost as if the forest could stretch on and on.

“The instructions say we have to retrieve an artifact. A key.” Miru continued to examine the scroll given by Takamina. It was the only clue provided for them to finish the challenge. “A tower, a graveyard, a fairy...just what are these images?”

“Stop hogging the scroll to yourself, Ms. Primadonna.” Momoka snatched it away from Miru’s grasp.

“Hey! You brute! I was reading that—” Miru tried to regain possession of the parchment, but to no avail.

“Leave the deciphering to people who actually have the capability.”

“Just who do you think you’re talking to? You’re just Jurina’s guard dog!”

Momoka stuck out her tongue, only to aggravate Miru further. “This guard dog has a higher rank than you, Princess.”

“Get back here! You unbelievable runt! Plebeian!!!”

The two reminded Rika of kindergarten students arguing over their favorite toy. It was hopeless, Miru and Momoka getting along was like the sun setting in the east. “Nuuuu~Rika’s doomed in this group isn’t she?”

Mayu looked at her then tilted her head. “Statistical probability is 78.34 percent.”

~*~*~*~

“Seriously, did they just put Sayanee and Jurina in one team? That has to be cheating right?” Yuria complained to Nana who was walking beside her. Just a few feet away, Yui, Haruka and Mion were checking out the cave in front of them.

“We drew the lots didn’t we? It’s basically random sampling…” Nana replied as she tried to make sense of the scroll. An image of a tower, a graveyard and a fairy was drawn on the paper.

“But they’re too OP! 1st and 2nd rank?? In one group??? I bet they’re finished with this thing right now.”

“You do know that Sayaka-san and Jurina-san aren’t really in good terms, right?”

“Well yeah...but—” before Yuria could finish her sentence a shrill shriek from afar filled the air.

“AAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

The scream caught the attention of everyone in the perimeter. Birds nesting in the trees took flight at the sudden disturbance.

“Who was that?” Nana gazed up from the scroll. She knew the answer when Yuria, without a single word, bolted to the source of the scream.

“Annin!”

XXXXXX

Author’s Note:

Been a while since I updated! So sorry for being MIA in the writing field.

Sakura’s group is in a pinch now that Annin’s status is unknown!! The MiruMomo scenes were fun to make BTW~

Now onto the serious stuff,

When I started spellbound I saw it as only lasting for 12 chapters or so but when I plotted out the events until the end...I had 25 chapters to work on. I’ve been thinking a lot about the direction of Spellbound and came to the decision that I’ll continue the fic version if there is still some interest (a lot of months have passed without an update after all). Otherwise, I will give my full attention into the game devt of Spellbound because it’s really hard to simultaneously do things.

So this may or may not be my last update for this fic. I’d probably just stick to one shots, if ever things go down south...so I hope you enjoyed the ride and do tell me what you think.

Always with love,

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dmbodyguard2 · 2 years

Text

Dance Moms Bodyguard (2) Danger Zone

Chapter 2 : On Foreign Land

From what he learned, the Moscow trip was an invitation by their local TV station. They were doing something similar, and wished to make a crossover, an opportunity to promote both shows, and best of all they were paying for the trip.

But not paying enough as far as Morris could see. It only covered the Elite Team of Chloe, Kendall and the Hyland sisters, not to forget Abby and her ace Maddie, her baby sister Mackenzie, and Nia.

The moms who were willing to pay for their own trips were Chloe’s mother Christi, Kelly Hyland and Nia’s mother Holly. They all had the privilege to afford first class seats and upgraded the girls, leaving Morris stuck with Abby in the economy section, who took up most of his own space and listened to her bragging her success for nine hours.

After long torturing hours, the plane finally made its descent to the Sheremetyevo International Airport. They were greeted by a staff holding a sign at the arrival terminal, who took them through a VIP checkpoint, skipping hour-long process at the custom, and right out to a waiting bus.

They were taken through the city and arrived what looked like a historical building, with high walls and garden front, its grand entrance stood a line of serious looking staffs. A little girl in exaggerated pink and floral popped between them, threw her hands in the air and made a pose, wore a big smile that shows off her white teeth and bleached blonde hair.

“HELLO! BEECHEES!” she yelled in her Russian accent. “I am JoJo Siwanova, and I am proudly inviting you to my beautiful home!”

“I hate her already!” Paige muttered, her sister agreed.

“This is her house?” Chloe’s mother gasped, realizing her American wealth was nowhere near the Russians. “What do her parents do?”

“Drug dealer perhaps?” Brooke snorted.

“Try arms dealers!” Morris coughed to hide his words, turning away from the house.

The blonde Russian girl stood proudly with hands behind her back, giving her American visitors a thorough look on her high end brandings from head to toe, then she made her approach.

To Abby’s surprise, the Russian girl did not come to her. She walked straight to Morris, poked him on the back and giggled.

“Mr. Mooorris,” she hummed, “I’m so happy to see you again!!”

“She knows him?” the moms and girls exchanged looks.

“Sure!” Morris turned around and cleared his throat. “Hello JoJo. Look how much you’ve grown!”

He forced out a smile, despite the burning sensation from all the glaring.

“And I think you remember your colleague?” JoJo snapped a finger across her face like a dance, a dark hair lady walked to him.

“Oh crap…” Morris rolled his eyes, feeling his day has just went from bad to worse, his eyes darting for escape routes, until she came right up to his face. “Slava. How are you?”

To everyone’s surprise, the lady raised her hand and slapped him across the face. The girls jumped and woo, but more in an exciting way.

“We’ll talk about this later!” the lady said firmly.

“Yep! She definitely knows him!” Paige nodded.

“Now that we get it out of the way,” JoJo smiled as if expected, raised her voice and said. “Let me show you to my house!”

With a snap of her finger, the line of staffs broke out a path, opening a way towards the entrance, but all the eyes were on Morris, waiting for an explanation.

“Well go on girls! Go look at the place!” he cleared his throat and began shoving them into the building.

The little blonde Russian was not shy to show off her family wealth, introducing every painting, statue and antiques from her family collection along the way, enjoying the superiority over the Americans.

“When is our show?” Paige asked, rolling her eyes with boredom.

“Your show is three days away. Meanwhile, I have arranged tours to show you my beautiful country!”

“Your country?” Brooke crossed her arms. “I thought thing don’t belong to the people.”

“You must be mistaken with the old Soviet Union, something your Amelican media should long updated!” JoJo smiled. “Come! Let me show you to your rooms!”

Attitudes soon lightened up when the girls met their hospitality, seven Victorian furnished bedrooms, with high ceilings and windows looking out to a large grassy garden, and that’s just for the girls. Abby and the parents received family rooms, complete with their own balconies.

“My God! I can get use to this!” Christi sat on a sofa, soon she was offered snacks and beverages.

“I can be here all day long!” her friend Kelly sat next to her, kicking off her shoes.

JoJo came in and introduced a line of young men in grey suits.

“I have arranged a personal assistant for each and every one of you. They will be your interpreter, tour guide and financial assistant.”

“What do you mean financial assistant?” Kelly asked.

“To welcome my Amelican friends, I wish you the best gift of Mother Russia, so they will take care of all your expenses during your stay.”

“You mean like shopping?” the mothers asked in disbelief.

“Especially shopping! I will not let you leave Russia empty handed!” JoJo smiled gracefully.

“JoJo, what do your parents do for a living?” Christi couldn’t help asking.

“My parents’ businesses are their own. I personally am running my own fashion brand in five major countries and two hundred stores all over Europe.”

The way she undisclosed her family business made Christi even more uncomfortable, knowing that the wealthier one is, the less they are about their businesses.

“Now, I have arranged your assistants to take you to lunch and shopping, follow by a complete spa at our most luxury beauty club for the richest, unless you wish to rest from your jet lag.” JoJo spoke formally.

“What about the girls?” Kelly asked.

“I have planned to take them on a historical trip. I think they will find our culture and history fascinating!”

“What a lovely plan! What do you think, Christi?” Holly asked.

“What? Shopping and spa without the kids? What more can I ask for?”

Morris made his usual security protocol in the area. It was unnecessary, he has spent a year in this building in the past, the place was practically a fortress. But the girls like to see him work, so he dedicated the task to Chloe, Kendall and the Hylands, they were more than happy to be included in his spy tasks.

“What’s the story with you and that woman?” Paige asked, looking into the bed lamp, something she saw in a Bond movies.

“That’s on need-to-know basis.” Morris said.

“I need to know!”

“No you don’t!” said a voice at the door.

Slava stood cold like a soldier, her hands behind her. She announced that the bus was ready and they must gather at the main lobby. She did not wait for their response, did not smile, and definitely did not look at Morris.

“Ex-girlfriend?” Brooke narrowed her eyes.

“Need to know!” Morris reminded.

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