#seal quality testing

[ccitusa]

Airborne ultrasound presents a practical way to inspect packaging seals without destroying the sample or slowing down production. Its application across multiple industries shows its versatility in addressing modern packaging needs. Whether used for pharmaceuticals, medical devices, or food products, this technology supports manufacturers in maintaining consistent sealing practices. By detecting small defects that could impact performance, it offers an added layer of quality assurance with minimal disruption.

[semcoinfratechworld]

Ensuring Battery Performance Through Advanced Air Tightness Testing

In the high-stakes world of energy storage, a tiny leak can have disastrous consequences. That’s why ensuring the utmost battery air tightness testing is crucial for battery performance testing, extended lifespan, and most importantly, safety.

This article delves into the secrets of advanced air-tightness testing for batteries, exploring various air-tightness testing methods for batteries and unveiling the impact they have on your energy storage system’s overall health and reliability. Get ready to discover how proper battery sealing and air tightness can unlock the full potential of your batteries and keep your energy flowing smoothly.

Consequences of Leakage in a Battery Pack

The cracking of the sealing glue of the upper cover and the bottom groove causes poor sealing, which is easy to causes the external liquid to penetrate and pollute the working environment of the battery.

The leakage of the safety valve due to the sealing problem may cause damage to other parts.

Inadequate sealing leads to acid leakage at the terminal, which affects the battery and vehicle wires and causes the circuit to burn out.

If it is not sealed, it will lead to the loss of power capacity, a decline in battery life, and reduced safety.

Parts to Be Tested

The combination of the upper and lower boxes, high-voltage electrical connectors, water-cooled pipes, and heat dissipation ports (waterproof and breathable holes) are the key areas for battery air tightness testing.

Difficulties in Detection

A. The battery pack has a large area, small internal space, and a thin shell that can withstand less pressure.

B. The battery pack is equipped with a high-voltage connector port and a heat dissipation port, creating challenges in effective blockage during testing.

Battery Pack Detection Requirements

For the battery pack air tightness assessment, there are two indicators: pressure drop value and leakage rate. The pressure drop value represents the change in internal pressure during testing, while the leakage rate measures the rate of leakage. These factors are critical in battery quality control through air tightness testing.

According to the internal pressure of the battery pack and external atmospheric pressure, tests are divided into positive pressure and negative pressure categories.

The air leakage testing in batteries primarily uses dry compressed air to inflate (positive pressure) or deflate (negative pressure) the tested object, determining if the body is leaking. Leaks cannot be directly measured but can be inferred from changes in pressure. If the pressure inside the object drops significantly, it indicates a leak.

Conclusion

Energy storage batteries require stringent leak detection for battery performance and battery safety and air tightness testing due to potential hazards and degradation caused by leaks. Lithium-ion battery air tightness tests play a crucial role in ensuring long-term performance and durability. Preventing leaks in battery manufacturing through reliable air-tightness testing methods ensures that battery packs perform optimally, safeguarding both performance and safety.

[enhaflixer]

pjs - Signed, Sealed & Undone. - Part 2

A TIME TRAVEL CONTRACT MARRIAGE FIC PART ONE HERE

Synopsis: Fake marriage proposals are a tired billionaire trope.

But when Jay Park—former golden boy of Park Industries, now chaebol exile—comes back from disgrace (and back in time), he’s got one goal: rewrite the past before it destroys him.

When you, an unassuming journalist with nothing to lose, get an offer of a lifetime, you’re sure it’s a mistake.

A contract, a relocation to Seoul, and one fake wedding later, you’re still trying to convince yourself none of this is real. The only problem? Neither of you seem to remember where the performance ends and something devastatingly real begins.

WC: 11K CW (18+ MDNI) : fake marriage, slow-burn romance, power dynamics, corporate intrigue, arranged marriage trope, emotional angst, unresolved sexual tension, longing glances across boardrooms, contract loopholes, financial manipulation, morally gray billionaire!Jay, forced proximity, family expectations, betrayal, public displays of affection (for the cameras, obviously), enemies-to-allies-to-lovers, suppressed feelings, business politics, one bed trope (but make it corporate), dramatic confessions, late-night whiskey-fueled arguments, high society drama, backhanded compliments as flirting, dramatic departures followed by even more dramatic returns, lingering touches that mean too much, feelings clause not included in the contract, deep intimacy, power dynamics in a romantic context, possessive tendencies (but soft), light dominance/submission themes, clothing being undone at a painfully slow pace, tension so thick it could shatter glass, breathless dialogue, interrupted kisses that lead to frustration, and the inevitable realization that this was never fake at all.

-

Your first meeting with the Parks was not what you expected.

Chairwoman Soo-min Park, Jay's mother, welcomed you in her minimalist office overlooking Seoul's skyline. Everything about the space proclaimed power—floor-to-ceiling windows, a desk carved from a single slab of marble, carefully curated art pieces that probably cost more than your entire education.

The woman herself matched her surroundings—elegant, precise, every silver-streaked hair perfectly in place. Her handshake was firm, her assessment clinical as she gestured for you to sit.

"So," she began without preamble, "you are the woman who captured my son's attention where so many have failed."

You felt Jay tense beside you. This was your first test.

"I believe we captured each other's attention, Mrs. Park," you replied evenly. "Sometimes connection happens where you least expect it."

Something flickered in her eyes—not warmth exactly, but perhaps respect.

Her questions were direct bordering on invasive. Your education. Your family background. Your career trajectory. With each answer, you maintained the same calm directness, refusing to be intimidated despite the butterflies in your stomach.

When she asked about your professional goals, you surprised yourself with your honesty.

"Journalism lets me uncover truths others miss," you said. "I value authenticity, even when it's uncomfortable."

"Authenticity," she repeated, glancing at her son. "A rare quality in our circles."

"That's what drew me to Y/N," Jay interjected, his hand finding yours. "Her perspective is... refreshing."

Chairwoman Park studied your joined hands for a moment. "You understand, of course, that marrying into the Park family comes with considerable scrutiny. Your life will not be your own."

"With respect, Chairwoman," you countered, "my life will always be my own. I'm choosing to share it with your son and, by extension, your family. But I won't disappear inside the Park name."

A loaded silence followed. Jay's grip tightened on yours—whether in warning or support, you couldn't tell.

Then, unexpectedly, Chairwoman Park smiled. Not broadly, but genuinely.

"Good," she said simply. "Jongseong needs someone who won't vanish into his shadow. Come, I'll show you to your quarters myself."

As she led you through the compound, Jay fell into step beside you, an almost imperceptible furrow between his brows.

"My mother never personally shows guests to their rooms," he whispered. "That's what staff is for."

"Should I be concerned?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "But I think she might actually like you."

The thought was both comforting and terrifying.

Your suite was breathtaking—traditional Korean elements blended with modern luxury. Adjacent to Jay's quarters but with your own entrance, exactly as promised in your contract.

"These were my grandmother's rooms," Jay explained after his mother left. "No one has used them since she passed. Not even guests."

"Is that significant?"

"Extremely. My grandmother was the family matriarch. The only person my mother genuinely respected." He ran his hand along an intricately carved wooden screen. "This is... unexpected."

-

That word—"unexpected"—became the theme of your first week in Seoul.

At family dinners, Jay's father questioned you extensively about American business practices, not dismissively but with genuine interest in your perspective. His uncle, who reportedly spoke only Korean in business settings on principle, made efforts to converse with you in English while praising your attempts at Korean phrases.

Most surprisingly, Jay's cousin Danny—initially the most skeptical about your sudden appearance—appointed himself your unofficial cultural guide.

"The press will tear you apart if you make certain mistakes," he explained, showing you how to properly pour drinks for elders and which honorifics to use with which family members. "Better you learn from family than from a public relations disaster."

Family. The word kept surfacing in unexpected contexts.

"Y/N is family now," Jay's father announced when authorizing your access to the private family wing of Park Industries headquarters. "She'll need to understand our operations."

"Family chooses wine together," his aunt insisted, inviting you to help select vintages for the wedding reception.

"Family protects its own," his mother stated when she discovered paparazzi had obtained your old address in New York. She immediately dispatched security to ensure your apartment was secure and your subletting friend undisturbed.

It was Danny who finally explained what was happening.

"They're closing ranks around you," he said during an impromptu shopping trip for traditional Korean accessories. "Not because they necessarily believe this whirlwind romance—"

"But they're acting like they do," you interjected, confused.

"Because Jay chose you," Danny said simply. "That's enough. If you're his, you're ours. The Pack protects its members."

"The Pack?"

"Family nickname. Not very subtle, I know." He grinned. "But accurate. We Parks might fight among ourselves, but against outsiders, we're unified."

You found yourself surprised by the Parks' fierce protectiveness. From Danny's explanations about family loyalty, it seemed at odds with the cutthroat business world they dominated.

Later, during a rare moment alone with Jay in the garden, you broached the subject.

"Your family is so... unified," you observed. "Different from what I expected."

Jay's expression turned pensive. "The Parks protect their own. That's always been the rule."

"And yet you seemed shocked by how they've embraced me."

He was quiet for a moment, staring at the stone path. "I've seen another side of them. In business, loyalty can shift suddenly when interests change. I've witnessed how quickly protection can turn to abandonment."

Something in his voice suggested personal experience—a wound not fully healed.

"You sound like you're speaking from experience," you ventured carefully.

His jaw tightened. "Just cautious. The business world has taught me that today's allies can become tomorrow's executioners without warning."

He fell silent, tension radiating from his shoulders. Without thinking, you reached for his hand.

"Well, you have me now," you said softly. "And I don't abandon contracts halfway through."

His smile was hesitant but real. "That may be the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me, Y/N."

"I try, baby," you replied, the endearment slipping out more naturally now.

The moment lingered between you—not quite romantic, but something deeper than your initial arrangement had suggested. You couldn't help wondering what experience had made him so wary of sudden betrayal, even from his own family.

Later, alone in your suite, Jay paced like a caged tiger.

"Something's not right," he muttered. "I've never seen my mother compromise like this."

"Maybe she genuinely approves of me?" you suggested, curled in a window seat overlooking the compound's gardens. "Unlike whoever she was planning to match you with before."

"Perhaps." He didn't sound convinced. "But my mother never yields on guest lists. Never. It's unprecedented."

"Is that concerning?"

He stopped pacing, his expression thoughtful. "Unexpected, certainly. But advantageous. They're accepting you more readily than I anticipated."

"Your romantic soul overwhelms me," you teased gently.

His expression softened as he looked at you. "Sorry. Corporate strategy is my default setting."

"I've noticed, baby. It's almost endearing now."

The pet name made him smile every time—a small, private reaction that felt like a victory.

-

Three weeks before the wedding, as preparations reached fever pitch, Jay found you in your suite's private garden—your sanctuary when the pressure of performing became too intense.

"We need to discuss the honeymoon," he said without preamble, settling beside you on the stone bench.

You'd been wondering when this would come up. The wedding night and subsequent honeymoon had loomed in your thoughts—unspoken questions about proximity and expectations.

"Bali," he continued, consulting his tablet. "Private villa, secluded beach, minimal staff. I've arranged separate bedrooms, of course."

"Of course," you echoed, trying to identify the strange emotion that fluttered in your chest. Disappointment? Surely not.

"Two weeks is standard for executives of my position," he added, scrolling through details. "The villa has separate office spaces so we can both work when needed. Full security team, but stationed distantly for privacy."

"It sounds... well-planned."

Jay looked up, studying your expression. "But?"

You hesitated. "Nothing. It's appropriate for our arrangement."

He set down the tablet, turning to face you more directly. "Y/N, by now you should know you can speak freely with me."

"It's just... very businesslike," you admitted. "Which is fine. That's what this is."

Something shifted in his expression. "It is business," he agreed. "But after these weeks together, perhaps also... more than just business."

The admission hung between you, neither fully acknowledged nor dismissed.

"People will expect certain behaviors," he continued after a moment. "Public affection. Shared meals. The appearance of... intimacy."

Your mouth went dry. "You mean..."

"Nothing beyond your comfort," he clarified quickly. "But enough to convince the staff, who will inevitably report back to my family and, by extension, the press."

"Right. Our ongoing performance." You nodded, trying to sound matter-of-fact. "I can handle looking... in love."

Was it your imagination, or did his eyes linger on your lips before he glanced away?

"There's also the wedding night," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "The presidential suite at the Grand Hyatt has been secured. Very private, but hotel staff notice everything. Champagne that goes untouched. Beds that aren't slept in."

A blush crept up your neck despite your best efforts. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

"Nothing inappropriate," he assured you, though his own complexion seemed warmer than usual. "Just... awareness that appearance matters. The illusion of consummation without the actual act."

"Rumpled sheets and champagne glasses," you summarized, aiming for a clinical tone. "The suggestion of intimacy without crossing boundaries."

His gaze met yours, something unreadable in his expression. "Unless specified otherwise in a future amendment to our arrangement."

Your breath caught. "An amendment?"

"The contract allows for mutual revisions when both parties agree," he said carefully. "I'm simply acknowledging that... feelings can evolve. Expectations may shift over time."

The implication was clear—if physical boundaries changed between you, the option existed to formalize that evolution.

Your heart raced traitorously. "I'll consider the amendment possibility," you replied, matching his professional tone while heat bloomed low in your abdomen.

"Good," he said softly. "That's... good."

A weighted silence fell between you, charged with possibility.

"I should check on the security arrangements," he said finally, rising from the bench. At the garden entrance, he paused. "Y/N?"

"Yes?"

"Whatever happens or doesn't happen, you have my respect. Always."

After he left, you sat in the garden until twilight, wondering how a false engagement had led to what might be the most honest relationship you'd ever experienced.

-

The photoshoot among cherry blossoms marked a turning point. What began as another staged display of affection shifted when the photographer positioned you against a tree, Jay's body pressed against yours from behind.

"Kiss her neck," the photographer instructed. "Like you can't resist her."

Jay hesitated, then lowered his mouth to the sensitive spot below your ear. The touch of his lips sent electricity down your spine. You couldn't suppress the small gasp that escaped you—one that had nothing to do with performance.

His arms tightened around your waist in response, and you felt him inhale sharply against your skin.

"Now turn and kiss properly," the photographer demanded. "Passionate but elegant."

You turned in Jay's arms, expecting the usual carefully controlled press of lips—three seconds, no movement, just enough for the camera.

Instead, when your mouths met, his lips parted immediately. Without thinking, you responded in kind, your hand sliding into his hair as the kiss deepened. His groan, too quiet for anyone else to hear, was undeniably real. Seven seconds stretched to ten before you separated, both breathing harder than the situation warranted.

"Perfect!" The photographer exclaimed. "The chemistry is explosive!"

In the car afterward, heavy silence hung between you.

"That was..." you began.

"Convincing," Jay finished, his knuckles white on his knee. "Very convincing."

But that night, sleep proved elusive as you replayed the feeling of his mouth against yours, his hands tightening on your waist, the unmistakable evidence of his desire pressed against you during that brief moment.

-

The final wedding rehearsal was scheduled for exactly one week before the ceremony—a full dress run-through to coordinate the complex choreography of family processions, ceremonial exchanges, and media moments.

You stood in the bride's preparation room, attendants adjusting the simplified version of your wedding hanbok, when commotion erupted in the hallway outside. Sharp voices in Korean—too fast for your intermediate skills to follow, but the tension was unmistakable.

Danny appeared at the door, his expression tense. "Small situation. Nothing to worry about."

"What kind of situation?" you asked, recognizing the forced casualness in his tone.

He hesitated. "Unexpected guest. Jay's handling it."

Before you could press further, the door opened again. Jay entered, his face a carefully composed mask that didn't quite hide the tension around his eyes.

"Everything okay?" you asked.

"Perfect," he replied with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Just a minor protocol issue."

He was lying. After weeks together, you'd learned to read the subtle tells in his expression—the slight tightening around his mouth, the barely perceptible furrow between his brows.

"Babe, come on.."

He met your gaze, then sighed. "We should speak privately."

Once the attendants had been dismissed, he took your hands in his.

"Seraphina Visconti has arrived in Seoul," he said without preamble. "Apparently for a 'routine business meeting' with Korean shipping companies."

Your stomach tightened at his expression. Though he'd never mentioned this woman before, his reaction told you everything you needed to know. This was someone significant. Someone threatening.

"Who is she?" you asked directly.

Jay hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "The daughter of an Italian shipping magnate. Her family has been trying to establish business connections with Park Industries for some time."

There was more to the story. Much more, judging by the tension radiating from him.

"And?" you prompted.

"And at one point, she was someone my mother considered a suitable match for me." His jaw tightened. "Her arrival, one week before our wedding, can't be coincidence."

Understanding dawned. "She was a candidate. Before me."

"Yes." Something dark flickered in his eyes. "The Visconti connection would have been... strategically valuable."

"But you chose me instead," you said slowly. "And now she's here to what? Object at the ceremony?"

"The Viscontis don't give up valuable connections easily," he replied grimly. "If they can't secure a Park alliance through marriage..."

"They'll seek another inroad," you finished. "Business partnerships, friendships, however they can get close to your family."

He nodded. "She's requested a meeting with my mother tomorrow. To 'extend congratulations' on my engagement."

The subtext was clear. This woman represented exactly the kind of strategic alliance Jay had been so determined to avoid when he proposed to you. Her presence was a direct challenge to your arrangement.

"What do we do?" you asked.

Jay's expression hardened with determination. "We proceed exactly as planned. But we must be extra vigilant. Seraphina is... persuasive. She can make fiction sound like fact and manipulation feel like coincidence."

You squeezed his hands, an unexpected protectiveness surging through you. "I'm not going anywhere, Jay. Remember, I keep my contracts."

Something flickered in his eyes—gratitude, perhaps, or something deeper.

"There's something else you should know," he said quietly. "Seraphina and I... we had some history. Brief, but potentially something she might leverage."

"I understand," you assured him, an unexpected pang of something like jealousy surfacing. "You don't need to explain."

"No, I do." His grip tightened. "Because there was never anything real between us. It was strategic on both sides. But with you..." He paused, seeming to search for words. "With you, the strategy has become... complicated."

Your pulse quickened. "Complicated how?"

Before he could answer, a knock interrupted the moment. Danny again, looking apologetic.

"Sorry to disturb, but she's here. At the rehearsal. Somehow she convinced the event coordinator she was on the guest list."

Jay's expression darkened. "Of course she did."

He turned back to you, his gaze intense. "Stay close to me. Don't let her isolate you or my family members. She's skilled at creating divisions."

You nodded, a strange mix of anxiety and determination rising within you. "I'm ready."

"Y/N," he said softly, bringing your hand to his lips in a gesture that felt more genuine than performative. "Thank you for being here. For being real."

As you stepped into the hallway together, his arm protectively around your waist, you couldn't help wondering what Jay wasn't telling you about this woman—and why her arrival had shaken him so deeply.

Something bigger was happening beneath the surface of your arrangement. Something Jay was keeping from you.

And for the first time since accepting his proposal, you wondered if there were secrets within your contract that might eventually tear it apart.

-

The rehearsals for the wedding ceremony required hours of practice—precise movements, timed responses, careful choreography. Two weeks before the wedding, after yet another exhausting day of preparations, you found yourself alone with Jay in the family's private study, reviewing final details.

"If I have to make one more decision about fucking flower arrangements, I might lose my mind," you groaned, kicking off your heels and curling into the corner of the leather sofa.

Jay laughed—a real laugh, not his public chuckle. "The Parks have been arranging strategic marriages for generations, but I doubt any of my ancestors had to choose between thirteen different shades of white roses."

"Is that what we're doing? A strategic marriage?" The question slipped out before you could stop it.

His smile faded. "That was the agreement."

"I know what the agreement was," you said, studying him. "I'm asking what we're doing now."

The question hung between you, dangerous in its directness.

Jay moved to the bar cart, pouring two glasses of whiskey. He handed one to you, then sat beside you on the sofa—closer than necessary. You found your eyes drawn to the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders as he leaned back, the top button undone revealing just a hint of collarbone. When had you started noticing these details?

"I don't know anymore," he admitted, the rare honesty catching you off guard. "This has become...complicated."

You took a sip, welcoming the burn. "Because of the kiss?"

"Which one?" The question surprised you both. He continued quickly, "The photographer. The press appearance last week. The practice for the ceremony. We've kissed numerous times."

"You know which one I mean."

His eyes met yours over the rim of his glass. "Yes. I do."

Another silence, this one charged with possibility.

"We could try again," you suggested, your heart hammering. "Without the photographer. Without the audience. Just to... clarify things."

Jay set his glass down carefully. "That would be crossing a line."

"We drew those lines. We can redraw them."

He studied you, his expression guarded. "Why would you want to?"

"Because I'm tired of pretending I don't feel anything when you touch me," you answered honestly. "Because I'm curious if whatever happened during that kiss was real or just... heightened performance."

"It was real," he said quietly. "At least for me."

The admission hung in the air between you, neither advancing nor retreating from it.

"So?" you prompted.

He exhaled slowly. "So this is dangerous territory. Emotions complicate strategy."

"Fuck the strategy," you said, setting your own glass down. "Just for a minute. Just be Jay, not Park Jongseong with his perfect plans."

Something shifted in his eyes—the careful calculation giving way to something darker, more urgent. His hand moved to your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone in a touch too intimate for strategy.

"If I kiss you now," he said, voice low, "it won't be like the others."

"Good." You held his gaze steadily. "I don't want it to be."

He closed the distance between you slowly, deliberately—giving you time to retreat. You didn't.

His lips met yours, and immediately you understood the difference. This wasn't performance. This was hunger—controlled, but barely. His hand slid into your hair, cradling your head as the kiss deepened. You moved closer, your hand finding his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath expensive fabric.

When his tongue traced the seam of your lips, you opened to him willingly, a small sound escaping your throat. He groaned in response, the arm around your waist tightening, pulling you half onto his lap.

The kiss turned desperate, months of controlled touches and careful boundaries dissolving under the heat of genuine desire. His hand moved to your thigh, sliding upward beneath the hem of your dress, fingers tracing patterns on sensitive skin.

"We should stop," he murmured against your mouth, even as his hand continued its upward path.

"Probably," you agreed, making no move to pull away. Instead, you shifted fully onto his lap, straddling him. The position brought you into direct contact with unmistakable evidence of his arousal.

"Fuck," he hissed, his composure fracturing further. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you into a slow, deliberate movement against him.

The friction was exquisite even through layers of clothing. You tangled your fingers in his perfect hair, destroying hours of careful styling as you deepened the kiss.

His mouth moved to your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive spot below your ear. "Tell me to stop," he said against your skin, his breath hot. "Tell me this isn't what you want."

In answer, you rolled your hips more firmly against his, drawing a groan from deep in his chest.

"I want this," you breathed. "I want you."

His control snapped. In one fluid movement, he had you on your back on the sofa, his weight deliciously heavy as he settled between your thighs. His mouth reclaimed yours with new urgency, one hand sliding higher under your dress, fingers tracing the edge of your underwear.

A sudden noise in the hallway outside—a staff member passing by—broke the spell. Jay froze, then slowly pulled away, his breathing ragged.

You both stared at each other, the reality of what had almost happened settling between you.

"That was..." he began, pushing himself up to a sitting position.

"Definitely not in the contract," you finished, adjusting your disheveled clothing.

A hint of a smile touched his lips. "No. It wasn't."

"Do you regret it?" You had to know.

He considered for a moment, straightening his tie with hands not quite steady. "I regret the interruption," he said finally. "Not the action."

Something warm unfurled in your chest. "So what now?"

"Now we should probably get some sleep." He stood, offering his hand to help you up. "Separately," he clarified, though the reluctance in his voice was evident.

You nodded, accepting his help. As you stood, he didn't immediately release your hand.

"This changes things," he said quietly.

"Yes." There was no denying it.

"We should discuss it. Tomorrow, when we're both thinking more clearly."

But tomorrow brought a crisis with the venue. The day after, an issue with security arrangements. Each evening ended with meaningful glances and careful distance—both of you acutely aware of the shift but unable to find the right moment to address it.

The unresolved tension built with each passing day, each careful touch that lingered too long, each glance that held too much promise.

-

The wedding was a masterpiece of carefully orchestrated moments—traditional Korean ceremony in the morning, Western exchange of vows at sunset, both executed with flawless precision despite Seraphina's strategic presence in the third row.

Throughout both ceremonies, Jay maintained perfect composure, his hand steady as he placed the ring on your finger, his voice unwavering as he recited vows that sounded surprisingly heartfelt for a contractual arrangement.

"I choose you," he said, his eyes holding yours with unexpected intensity. "Above all others, against all expectations, I choose you."

Only you noticed the way his gaze flickered briefly toward Seraphina when he spoke the words.

At the reception, she approached with practiced grace, champagne flute in hand and calculated warmth in her smile.

"Such a...surprising match," she said, air-kissing your cheek. "Jay never mentioned you during our time together in Europe."

"Some connections don't need public announcement to be meaningful," you replied smoothly, feeling Jay's hand tighten at your waist.

Her smile never faltered. "How fortunate that his mother's plans changed so suddenly. We all thought—" She laughed lightly. "Well, it hardly matters now."

Before you could respond, she turned to Jay. "Your uncle mentioned the Hanjin merger is progressing. Fascinating choice, considering."

Something shifted in Jay's expression—fear, barely controlled.

"If you'll excuse us," he said abruptly, "my wife and I should greet the ambassador."

He guided you away with uncharacteristic urgency, his composure fractured.

"What was that about?" you whispered.

"Nothing. Just Seraphina being Seraphina." But his eyes kept scanning the room, tracking her movements like someone monitoring a bomb.

-

The presidential suite at the Grand Hyatt was everything Jay had promised—lavish, private, with discreet staff who delivered champagne then vanished.

Yet the tension from the reception followed you. Jay paced by the windows, making calls in rapid Korean, his tone increasingly agitated.

When he finally ended the last call, you confronted him directly.

"What's going on? And don't say 'nothing' again."

He stared at you for a long moment, conflict evident in his expression.

"I need to check something at the office," he said finally. "A document that shouldn't exist."

"Shouldn't exist?" You frowned. "What does that mean?"

"I'll explain when I return." He was already reaching for his jacket. "Please, Y/N. This is important."

"It's our wedding night!"

"I know." He paused at the door, genuine regret in his eyes. "Two hours, maximum. Then I'll tell you everything."

After he left, you paced the suite, frustration mounting. Whatever game he was playing with Seraphina clearly went deeper than corporate rivalry.

On impulse, you opened his laptop—the one he always kept with him, password protected and closed whenever you approached.

The password prompt glowed accusingly. You tried his birthdate. Access denied. His mother's name. Access denied.

Then, on a hunch: YN-contract-date.

The screen unlocked, revealing dozens of folders meticulously labeled and dated. One caught your eye: "Original Timeline - Evidence."

Heart pounding, you clicked it open.

News articles. Court documents. Photos of Jay looking years older, haggard, defeated.

A marriage announcement with Jay and Seraphina, dated three years earlier.

Headlines about corporate espionage, Jay's disgrace, his removal from Park Industries—all dated years in the future.

The room seemed to tilt as you opened a video file.

It showed Jay—older, with strands of gray at his temples—standing in an empty apartment, speaking directly to the camera.

"If you're watching this, it worked," the Jay in the video said. "I don't know if the consciousness transfer will be complete or if I'll remember everything, so I'm recording key details. The Hanjin merger is the trigger point. Seraphina orchestrated everything through her connection with Chairman Kang..."

He continued methodically outlining his downfall, his eventual disgrace, names and dates and evidence.

"Time travel is theoretically impossible," he concluded. "But so is the pain of having your entire life stripped away in a single day. If there's any chance of preventing it..."

The video ended abruptly.

You stared at the dark screen, heart racing. Time travel? Consciousness transfer? Future knowledge?

"I'm losing my mind," you whispered to the empty room.

You closed the laptop, then opened it again, half expecting the folders to be gone. They weren't.

Maybe this was an elaborate fiction—research for some project, a game, a psychological exercise. Because time travel couldn't be real. That would mean...

The implications made your head swim. That would mean Jay had known about meeting you at the gallery before it happened. That he'd orchestrated everything—your meeting, your relationship, your marriage—as part of some grand design to change a future that had already happened.

It would mean everything between you was calculated, predetermined, false.

"No." You shook your head. "This isn't real."

But the evidence on the screen didn't vanish. Future dates. Future events. Things that hadn't happened yet detailed with journalistic precision.

By the time Jay returned, you'd gone through half the champagne and were sitting on the floor, back against the bed, laptop open beside you.

"Y/N." He stopped in the doorway, taking in the scene. "What are you doing?"

"Having a psychotic break, apparently." You gestured vaguely at the laptop. "Either that or marrying a time traveler. I'm not sure which is more concerning."

His face drained of color. "I can explain."

"Explain what? That you're from the future?" You laughed, a brittle sound. "That's literally insane, Jay. I'm insane for even considering it."

He approached slowly, as if you were a frightened animal. "You're not insane."

"Then you're saying it's true? That you—what? Traveled back in time to avoid marrying Seraphina? To prevent some corporate disaster?" The words sounded ridiculous as you spoke them. "Do you realize how that sounds?"

"I know it sounds impossible." He knelt in front of you, keeping a careful distance. "But you've seen the evidence."

"I've seen elaborate fiction. Or I'm hallucinating. Because time travel isn't real." You ran your hands through your hair. "People don't just wake up five years in the past with a chance to redo everything."

"I didn't think it was possible either." His voice was steady, gentle. "Until it happened."

"So what am I to you?" The question escaped before you could stop it. "A convenient pawn in your time-travel chess game? A random variable you introduced to change your precious timeline?"

Pain flashed across his face. "Initially? Yes. I sought you out deliberately at the gallery. I remembered our brief conversation from my original life, and you seemed...perfect. Outside my world. Beyond manipulation."

The confirmation hurt more than you expected. "So you manufactured everything. Our relationship. Our connection. All of it."

"No." He moved closer, carefully taking your hands. "The plan, yes. The contract, yes. But what's grown between us? That wasn't planned. That wasn't strategy."

"How can I believe that?" You searched his face. "How can I believe anything now?"

"Because I'm telling you the truth when I could keep lying." His grip tightened. "Because I'm risking everything by admitting this to you."

"Or I'm having a complete mental breakdown and none of this is happening." You pulled your hands away. "Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and be back in my apartment in New York. Maybe this whole thing—you, Korea, all of it—is some elaborate delusion."

"It's not," he said firmly. "You're not crazy, Y/N."

"Prove it." You met his eyes. "Tell me something that will happen. Something specific. Something I can verify."

He hesitated. "The stock market—"

"No. Something personal. Something that matters to me."

Jay thought for a moment. "Priya and Jake will announce they're expecting a baby next month. Earlier than they planned to tell anyone, but there will be complications and they'll need support."

Your heart stuttered. "That's cruel. Using my friends—"

"Call her tomorrow if you don't believe me. She took a test two days before our wedding but didn't want to steal your moment."

"Stop it." You stood up, needing distance. "I can't—this is too much."

"I know." He remained kneeling, looking up at you. "And I'm sorry. I never intended for you to find out like this. Or at all, honestly."

"That's worse! You were just going to lie forever?"

"I was going to fulfill our contract. Two years, then release you with everything promised." He rubbed his face. "The timeline is already changed beyond recognition. My purpose was accomplished."

"Your purpose." The words tasted bitter. "Which I was instrumental in without my knowledge or consent."

"Yes." No excuses, just raw admission.

You moved to the window, staring out at Seoul's glittering skyline. Everything suddenly felt alien—the city, the marriage, the man behind you.

"I need time to process this." Your voice was steadier than you felt. "I need to... I don't know, call Priya tomorrow. Verify your claim. Try to determine if I'm actually having a psychotic break."

"Of course." He stood but didn't approach. "Whatever you need."

"I'll sleep in the second bedroom tonight."

He nodded, accepting this without argument. "For what it's worth, Y/N, whatever brought us together—time travel, fate, strategic planning—what's grown between us is real. At least for me."

You couldn't respond to that. Not yet. Not when you weren't even sure what reality was anymore.

As you gathered your things for the night, one question burned through the confusion.

"Why did you do it? Why come back?"

Jay's answer was simple and devastating in its honesty.

"Because I lost everything. And I couldn't bear to live through it again."

You closed the bedroom door between you, then pressed your forehead against it, tears finally escaping.

Either your husband was a time traveler who had manipulated your entire relationship, or you were completely losing your grip on reality.

You weren't sure which possibility terrified you more.

Sleep proved impossible. Around 3 AM, you gave up trying and reached for your phone, scrolling until you found Priya's number. It would be afternoon in New York.

Your thumb hovered over the call button. This was ridiculous. You couldn't just ask your friend if she was pregnant based on your time-traveling husband's inside information.

But you needed to know. Needed some external verification that either confirmed you were sane or confirmed you weren't.

With a deep breath, you pressed call.

"Y/N!" Priya answered on the third ring, her voice bright. "Should you be calling me on your wedding night? Shouldn't you be, you know, occupied?"

"Just checking in," you said, aiming for casual. "How are you feeling?"

A pause. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know." You pressed on. "You seemed tired at the wedding. Jake was hovering more than usual."

Another, longer pause. "Okay, that's weird. We literally told no one."

Your heart stopped. "Told no one what?"

"Y/N..." Priya's voice dropped to a whisper. "Are you psychic or something? I'm pregnant. Six weeks. We weren't going to tell anyone until the second trimester, but I've been spotting, and the doctor says..."

The room tilted as she confirmed exactly what Jay had predicted. Exactly what shouldn't be possible for him to know.

"That's wonderful news," you managed, though your voice sounded distant to your own ears. "I'm so happy for you. And whatever's happening, I'm here, okay?"

After reassurances and promises to talk soon, you ended the call and sat motionless in the dark.

It was real. All of it. Which meant Jay had truly traveled through time. Had truly sought you out as part of his plan. Had truly married you to prevent some alternate future.

You moved to the door, pulled it open, and found Jay sitting on the floor in the hallway, back against the wall.

"Couldn't sleep either?" you asked.

He looked up, dark circles under his eyes. "Not really."

"I called Priya."

Understanding flashed across his face. "And?"

"She's pregnant. She's spotting. Everything exactly as you said." You slid down the wall to sit beside him. "How is this possible?"

"I don't know." His honesty was strangely comforting. "I went to sleep in my apartment five years in the future and woke up here, in the past. I've spent every day since then trying to prevent the sequence of events that destroyed my life."

"Including marrying me instead of Seraphina."

"Yes." No hesitation, no sugar-coating.

You both sat in silence for a long moment, shoulders almost touching.

"I'm still angry," you said finally. "And confused. And honestly, a little terrified."

"I understand."

"But I also..." you struggled to find the words, "I also can't deny what's happened between us. That feels real, even if the foundation was a lie."

Jay turned to face you. "It is real. The beginning was calculated, yes. But everything since—the late night conversations, the moments when no one was watching, the things we've shared—those weren't strategy. Those were just... us."

"Is that even possible? To find something genuine inside a manufactured situation?"

"I don't know." He reached for your hand tentatively. "But I'd like to find out."

You stared at his outstretched hand, the wedding ring glinting in the dim light. A contract. A strategy. A lie.

And yet, underneath it all, something had grown that neither of you had planned.

After a long moment, you took his hand.

"I'm still not entirely convinced I'm not having some elaborate psychotic break," you said with a shaky laugh.

"If it helps, in my extensive experience with both time travel and mental breakdowns, this feels more like the former."

That surprised a genuine laugh from you. "Oh well, if you're an expert..."

His answering smile was hesitant but real—the smile of the man you'd grown to care for, time traveler or not.

"So what now?" you asked.

"Now we figure this out together," he said simply. "No more secrets."

"No more secrets," you agreed.

His gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, a question in the look.

You answered by leaning forward and pressing your mouth to his—your first real kiss, not for show, not for strategy, but because despite everything, you wanted to.

His response was immediate and overwhelming, arms pulling you against him as the kiss deepened. Months of performed affection crystallizing into something genuine and urgent.

"Y/N," he breathed against your mouth. "Are you sure?"

"No," you admitted. "I'm not sure about anything anymore. But I want this. I want you."

He stood, pulling you up with him, searching your face one more time before lifting you into his arms and carrying you toward the master bedroom.

Whatever came next—whatever impossible reality you were living in—at least this part would be real.

Jay carried you to the bedroom, his movements both gentle and urgent. In the dim light filtering through the windows, his eyes never left yours—searching, questioning, even as he lowered you onto the bed.

"Are you certain?" he asked again, hovering above you. "With everything you now know..."

You reached up, tracing the contour of his face. This face you'd come to know so well, yet belonged to someone with secrets you were only beginning to understand.

"I'm not certain about reality anymore," you whispered. "But I'm certain about wanting you."

Something broke in his expression—the careful control he'd maintained since you met him fracturing completely. He lowered his mouth to yours with an intensity that stole your breath, his kiss no longer measured or performative but raw with need.

Your bodies had been close before—staged embraces for photographs, choreographed affection for observers—but this was different. His weight pressing you into the mattress felt like an anchor in a world suddenly unmoored from everything you thought you knew.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured against your neck, his voice rougher than you'd ever heard it. "No script. No strategy. Just us."

"Everything," you breathed. "I want everything that's real."

His hands trembled slightly as they moved to the zipper of your dress—the man who negotiated billion-dollar deals without blinking suddenly unsteady with wanting. The vulnerability in that small tremor undid you.

You helped him with the fastenings, the dress soon forgotten on the floor. He paused to look at you, his expression almost reverent.

"I've imagined this," he confessed. "Not as part of the plan. Just as a man wanting a woman."

Your own fingers worked at his shirt buttons, needing to feel skin against skin. "How long?"

"Since Washington Square Park. When you laughed at that Ukrainian restaurant. I wanted to kiss you then, contract be damned."

The admission sent heat spiraling through you. All those controlled touches, those careful boundaries—beneath them, he'd been wanting this too.

When his shirt joined your dress on the floor, you ran your hands over the planes of his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. Not the measured rhythm of Park Jongseong, corporate heir, but the accelerated tempo of Jay, the man who wanted you.

His mouth found yours again as his hands explored with increasing boldness—tracing the curve of your waist, the swell of your breast, his thumb circling your nipple through delicate lace until you arched into his touch with a soft moan.

"I need to taste you," he murmured, trailing kisses down your neck, between your breasts, his tongue tracing patterns that made you shiver. "I've thought about this for months."

You tangled your fingers in his hair as he unhooked your bra with practiced ease, his mouth closing around your nipple while his hand kneaded your other breast. The careful restraint he'd always shown was nowhere in evidence now—replaced by hunger barely contained.

"Jay," you gasped as his teeth grazed sensitive flesh. "More."

He looked up at you, eyes dark with desire. "Say it again."

"More," you repeated, understanding he meant something else.

"My name," he clarified, voice hoarse. "Not for show. For me."

"Jay," you whispered, then louder. "Jay."

Something fierce and possessive crossed his features. He moved lower, trailing open-mouthed kisses across your stomach, his fingers hooking into your underwear and slowly drawing them down your legs.

When he settled between your thighs, his breath hot against your most intimate place, he paused again, looking up at you.

"This isn't strategy," he said softly. "This is just me wanting to taste every part of you."

Your answer was lost to a gasp as his mouth closed over you, his tongue exploring with deliberate precision. This was Jay applying the same focused attention he gave to corporate acquisitions to your pleasure—finding exactly what made you tremble, what made your breath catch, what made you cry out his name.

His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as you began to unravel beneath his relentless attention. When he slid one finger inside you, then another, curling them forward while his tongue continued its assault, the tension building inside you shattered.

You came with his name on your lips, your body arching off the bed, one hand fisted in his hair while the other clutched desperately at the sheets.

Before you'd fully recovered, he was moving up your body, his expression almost feral with need. He shed his remaining clothes with uncharacteristic urgency, his erection heavy against your thigh as he positioned himself above you.

"Protection?" you managed, your mind still hazy with pleasure.

"Nightstand." He reached over, retrieving a condom and sheathing himself with efficient movements. Then he was there, poised at your entrance, searching your face one last time. "Y/N?"

You wrapped your legs around his hips, drawing him closer. "Now, Jay."

He sank into you with a groan that sounded almost pained, his forehead pressed against yours, eyes open—connection beyond the physical as he filled you completely.

"You feel..." he began, words failing him for perhaps the first time since you'd known him.

"I know," you whispered, understanding perfectly.

He began to move, slowly at first, each thrust measured and deep. But as your bodies found their rhythm, as your hips rose to meet his, the careful control he prided himself on began to slip.

His movements grew more urgent, his breathing ragged against your neck. You ran your nails down his back, urging him on, needing more of whatever this was—this genuine connection amid so much calculated deception.

"Y/N," he gasped, his rhythm faltering. "I can't—"

"Let go," you urged, feeling yourself climbing toward another peak. "Just let go."

Something inside him broke at your words. His next thrusts were almost desperate—hard, deep, relentless. One hand slipped between your bodies, finding where you were joined, his thumb circling your sensitive flesh.

"Come with me," he commanded, his voice raw. "I need to feel you."

The intensity in his eyes, the command in his voice, the precise circles of his thumb—it was too much. You shattered around him with a cry that might have been his name, might have been a prayer, might have been a curse at the universe that had brought you to this impossible moment.

He followed moments later, his release triggering aftershocks of pleasure through your still-pulsing body. His arms gave out, and he collapsed against you, his weight pressing you into the mattress in the most grounding way possible.

For long moments, there was only the sound of your mingled breathing gradually slowing, his heart pounding against yours.

"That wasn't in the contract," you finally said, a hint of laughter in your voice.

He lifted his head to look at you, a smile spreading across his face—genuine, unguarded. "I believe that qualifies as an amendment."

"A very thorough amendment," you agreed, brushing damp hair from his forehead.

He rolled to the side, taking you with him, keeping your bodies connected. "I may require multiple amendments. To ensure complete clarity."

"Very prudent," you murmured, tracing patterns on his chest. "Contracts should be explicit."

His expression sobered slightly. "Y/N, what happened between us just now—"

"Was real," you finished for him. "Whatever else isn't, that was."

He pulled you closer, his lips brushing your forehead. "I didn't travel through time expecting to find you. That wasn't part of the plan."

"And yet, here we are."

"Here we are," he echoed. His hand traced lazy circles on your back. "I'm still not entirely sure how it happened. The time travel or...this."

You settled against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. "I'm still not entirely convinced I'm not having an elaborate psychotic break."

His chest rumbled with quiet laughter. "If so, it's an exceptionally vivid one."

"Maybe that's all life is," you mused. "Vivid hallucinations we choose to believe in."

His arms tightened around you. "Then I choose this one. With you."

You lay together in comfortable silence, the questions and complications temporarily held at bay by the simplicity of skin against skin, heartbeat against heartbeat.

Tomorrow would bring reality crashing back—Seraphina's machinations, the timeline Jay was trying to alter, the complex web of truth and deception that had brought you to this point.

But for now, in the quiet darkness of a wedding night never meant to be real, you'd found something neither of you had anticipated in your carefully constructed arrangement.

Something genuine in a world of strategic fabrication.

Something true in a reality bent by impossible physics.

Something neither time nor planning could have engineered.

Epilogue: Three Years Later

"I said I wanted to relax on the beach, not hike up a mountain," you grumbled, one hand braced against your lower back, the other resting protectively over the prominent curve of your seven-month pregnant belly. "This babymoon was supposed to be about pampering, not cardio."

Jay looked back at you from several steps ahead on the winding trail, his expression softening as he took in your flushed cheeks and the slight breathlessness in your voice.

"It's hardly a mountain, angel," he said, immediately returning to your side. "More of an elevated pathway with strategic viewpoints. But we can turn back if you're uncomfortable."

You leaned into him as his arm slid around your waist, supporting some of your weight while his other hand came to rest alongside yours on your belly. "A 'strategic viewpoint' is what you called that cliff in Santorini last year, and I nearly had a heart attack."

"You said the photos were worth it," he reminded you, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"I was being polite. I was actually contemplating pushing you over the edge for making me climb all those steps."

His laugh rumbled against you, warm and genuine. In three years of marriage—one beyond your original contract—that laugh had become more frequent, less guarded. When you'd first met, Park Jongseong's calculated public chuckle had been as meticulously controlled as everything else about him. Now, Jay laughed openly, especially with you.

"The Park heir doesn't back down from challenges," you added, perfectly mimicking his mother's crisp tone and slight accent. "Isn't that what your mom told me last week when I complained about the nursery color palette meetings running four hours? Who needs eighteen shades of 'celestial' anyway? They're all just... blue."

Jay winced. "If you quote my mother again while we're on vacation, I'm flying Danny out here to keep you company. He's been dying to revisit that story about my high school talent show performance."

"The K-pop cover?" Your eyes lit up with mischief. "With the leather pants and the hair gel? Please do. I've only seen the photos, but the video footage would make excellent blackmail material for the next twenty years of parenting."

"I looked good in those pants," he defended, though his hand moved to massage the sore spot on your lower back that had been bothering you since morning.

You groaned appreciatively as his fingers found exactly the right spot. "Keep doing that and I might not share the existence of those photos with our daughter when she's old enough to be mortified by her father."

"Negotiating already? She's not even born, and you're forming alliances against me." His tone was playful, but the tenderness in his expression whenever he referenced your unborn child made your heart flutter. The man who had once approached marriage as a tactical business arrangement now spent evenings reading pregnancy books and speaking Korean lullabies against your belly.

"Another ten minutes to the overlook," he promised, thumb working circles against your lower spine. "Then we'll head back to the villa. I promise it's worth it."

You sighed dramatically but allowed him to guide you forward. "Our daughter better appreciate all this hiking I'm doing for her. She's been practicing her taekwondo moves on my bladder all morning."

"She's already plotting her corporate takeover strategy," Jay said, unable to keep the pride from his voice. "A true Park."

"God help us all," you muttered, though your free hand squeezed his in affection. "One strategic mastermind in the family was enough."

"You forget your contract negotiation tactics. You extracted a villa in the Maldives with private chef, daily massages, and no conference calls for two weeks. Our daughter is getting the best of both of us."

"Speaking of strategies," you said, pausing to catch your breath, "I've been thinking about names again."

Jay groaned dramatically. "Not this again. We had a system. A spreadsheet with weighted attributes and cultural significance metrics."

"I'm vetoing the spreadsheet." You continued walking, leaning heavier on his support. "No child of mine is going to be named via algorithm."

"It's not an algorithm, it's a—"

"Strategic naming methodology with comparative analysis," you finished for him. "I've heard the pitch, Mr. Park. Still vetoing it."

He sighed, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. "What names are you considering now?"

"I like Mina."

"That's actually on the spreadsheet's top five. Strong in both cultures, elegant, historical significance—"

"I don't care about your spreadsheet points. I like how it sounds."

"Alright, angel. Mina stays on the list." His easy acquiescence was still something you were getting used to. The Jay you'd first met would have defended his methodical approach for at least another ten minutes. "We still have two months to decide. Unless she makes an early entrance."

"Don't even suggest it," you warned. "After what your mother said about Park babies always arriving precisely on schedule, like their corporate acquisitions? I think she'd be personally offended if this baby came early."

"Chairwoman Park does not acknowledge the existence of unscheduled deliveries," he agreed solemnly, though his eyes danced with amusement. "Though she did order the hospital's maternity wing renovation completed a month ahead of schedule, just in case."

"Your mother terrifies me," you admitted. "And somehow I still adore her."

"She feels the same about you. She told Uncle Jimin you're the only person who's ever successfully changed her mind during a board meeting. He said she sounded proud."

"She should be. That sustainable investing initiative is going to increase profits by twelve percent next quarter."

Jay grinned at you. "Look at you, talking profit margins and quarterly projections. Remember when you said you'd rather die than become a 'corporate drone'?"

"I maintain that position," you insisted. "I'm an independent consultant who happens to occasionally advise the largest conglomerate in South Korea. Completely different."

"Of course," he agreed diplomatically. "Just like I'm not a workaholic, I just have 'dedication to operational efficiency.'"

You bumped your hip against his. "You've been better. Only three midnight emails this month."

"All emergencies," he defended.

"The color of the fonts on the annual report was not an emergency, Park."

"Brand consistency is critical to market perception," he began, then caught your expression and laughed. "Fine. Not an emergency."

When you reached the overlook, the view did indeed steal your breath—crystal-clear waters stretching to the horizon, the private cove of your Maldives villa visible in the distance, pristine white sand contrasting with vibrant turquoise.

"Damn it," you murmured.

"Excuse me?" Jay raised an eyebrow.

"You were right. It was worth it." You leaned back against his chest as his arms wrapped around you, hands cradling your belly. "Don't look so smug."

"I would never," he said, not bothering to hide his satisfied smile. "Besides, being right is just part of my charm."

You elbowed him gently. "Your humility is what I love most about you."

"That and my strategic viewpoint selection."

"And your modesty. Clearly."

His hands splayed wider across your belly, and as if on cue, your daughter kicked sharply against his palm. The look of wonder that crossed his face at the contact never diminished, no matter how many times he felt it.

"That was a strong one," he said softly.

"Tell me about it. I'm pretty sure I'm growing a future taekwondo champion in here."

"Like her mother," he said, his voice warm with admiration. "Strong. Determined."

"Cranky when hungry?" you suggested.

"I was going to say 'formidable when provoked,' but your phrasing works too." His chin rested on your shoulder, and you felt his smile against your neck. "She's already perfect."

The simple sincerity in his voice made your hormones send tears threatening. You blamed pregnancy emotions, but the truth was deeper. This man—who had literally traveled through time to avoid destruction—was now embracing a future neither of you could predict or control, with complete certainty that it was exactly where he wanted to be.

"Did you ever imagine this?" you asked, gesturing vaguely at your belly, at the two of you standing on this pristine outlook. "When you made that original contract proposal at that ridiculously expensive restaurant?"

"It was hardly ridiculous. Their wine list was impeccable." His deflection was automatic—the old Jay momentarily surfacing.

"You know what I mean," you persisted. "Did time-traveling Jay ever see this coming?"

He was quiet for a moment, his chin resting on your shoulder. "No," he finally answered with characteristic honesty. "This was never part of the strategy. My plan ended with avoiding the merger, preventing Seraphina's sabotage, maintaining family control of the company."

"Very romantic objectives."

"I didn't believe in romance then," he reminded you. "I believed in risk management."

"And now?" you asked, turning slightly to see his face. "Disappointed that your perfect plan got derailed by unforeseen variables? Namely, catching actual feelings for your contract wife?"

His eyes met yours, that intense gaze that still made your heart skip. "The plan was to avoid disaster," he said seriously. "I got happiness instead. That's not a detour, angel. That's a miracle."

"Don't go soft on me now, Park. What would the shareholders think?" you teased, though you leaned into his touch as his hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face.

"They'd think I finally made a sound investment with appropriate long-term growth potential," he replied, matching your business terminology while his eyes remained soft.

"Oh? And what's the projected ROI on this particular acquisition?"

"Immeasurable," he said simply, the single word holding more genuine emotion than the countless practiced speeches he'd given over the years.

"A time-traveling corporate heir and a skeptical journalist walk into a gallery..." you began, a reference to how you often joked about your improbable origin story.

"Sounds like the setup for a terrible joke," he finished, smiling against your lips as he leaned down to kiss you.

"Or the perfect story," you countered when you separated. "Though no one would believe it."

"Danny believes it," Jay said dryly. "After walking in on us arguing about whether my future knowledge of the 2024 Olympics constituted gambling when I placed those bets."

"In my defense, it absolutely was cheating."

"In my defense, we donated all the proceeds to charity."

"After I made you," you reminded him.

"A minor detail." His hand moved in slow circles over your belly, soothing both you and the active little one inside. "Speaking of details, that cloud formation suggests a weather change within the next hour. Ready to head back? I've arranged for a prenatal massage at the villa."

You narrowed your eyes. "Did you plan this entire hike timing based on weather patterns?"

"I may have consulted three different meteorological reports and timed our arrival at the overlook for optimal viewing conditions before the afternoon clouds moved in," he admitted without a hint of shame.

"Your level of extra never ceases to amaze me." You shook your head, but couldn't suppress a smile. "This is why I keep you around, Park. Your strategic planning has its advantages."

"Just fulfilling the terms of our renegotiated contract," he replied, guiding you carefully back toward the path. "Section four, paragraph three: 'Husband agrees to ensure wife's comfort during pregnancy with particular emphasis on lower back support, regular food provision, and optimal weather condition monitoring.'"

"You need to stop letting your legal team draft our personal agreements," you laughed. "But I appreciate the thoroughness."

"The legal team wanted to include a footnote about reasonable expectations regarding my ability to control weather patterns, but I refused. I have standards."

"Of course you do." You laced your fingers with his as you began the descent. "Tell me more about this massage. Did you fly in some exclusive practitioner from Sweden who only treats royalty and tech billionaires?"

"Of course not," Jay scoffed. "She's from Norway, and she primarily works with Olympic athletes. Royalty is just her side clientele."

You burst out laughing. "You're impossible."

"I believe the term you used last week was 'extra but endearing.'"

"I was being generous."

"You usually are," he said, his tone shifting to something more sincere. "With your patience. Your understanding. This journey hasn't been... conventional."

"Conventional is overrated," you replied, squeezing his hand. "Though I do plan on writing a book someday. 'How to Negotiate Your Way from Fake Marriage to Real Happiness: A Time Traveler's Guide.'"

"Catchy title. Limited market though."

"You don't know that. There could be dozens of time travelers out there, all looking for contractual arrangements that evolve into genuine love stories."

"Dozens seems optimistic."

"Says the man who literally bent physics. You don't get to talk about 'optimistic.'"

The banter continued as you made your way back to the villa, a luxurious beachfront property that somehow combined Jay's taste for refined elegance with your insistence on comfortable practicality. Like your relationship, it shouldn't have worked on paper, but in reality, it was perfect.

Later, after the Norwegian masseuse had worked miracles on your pregnancy-strained muscles, you lounged on the villa's private deck while Jay prepared dinner—another evolution that would have seemed impossible three years ago. Park Jongseong, corporate heir and strategic mastermind, now insisted on cooking for you at least twice a week, a skill he'd developed with the same methodical precision he applied to business acquisitions.

"Your mother called while you were in the shower," you mentioned as he served grilled fish with a mango salsa he'd perfected over the past year. "She wanted to know if we'd considered her suggestion about the trust fund structure."

Jay paused, wine bottle hovering over your glass of sparkling water. "Please tell me you didn't discuss financial planning during our vacation."

"Of course I did. I told her your idea about the educational milestone incentives was better than her straight distribution plan, and that the sustainable investment portfolio she proposed needed more diverse clean energy holdings."

He stared at you for a moment before breaking into a laugh. "Three years ago, you called investment banking 'legalized gambling for people with too much money.'"

"I stand by that assessment," you replied primly. "But if our daughter is going to have Park money, it might as well be responsibly managed Park money that does some good."

"Our daughter," he repeated, a smile softening his features as he set down the wine and rested a hand on your belly. "I still can't quite believe it sometimes."

"Which part? That we're having a baby, or that you're having one with the woman you initially approached as a strategic human shield against corporate sabotage?"

"Both," he admitted. "Though more the latter. When I found you at that gallery, I was looking for a solution to a problem, not..." he gestured between you, "whatever miracle this is."

"A solution to a problem," you echoed thoughtfully. "That's not the most romantic description of your future wife I've ever heard."

"Would you prefer 'tactically advantageous alliance partner'?" he offered with a straight face.

"Much better. I'm swooning."

His expression grew more serious. "You know what I mean. I wasn't looking for connection then. I didn't think I needed it—or deserved it, after what happened."

"After what was going to happen," you corrected gently. "A future you prevented."

"Semantics," he said with a slight shrug, though you both knew it was more than that. The guilt he carried for actions his alternative self might have taken had taken months of conversations to address.

"Did I ever tell you," you said, changing tactics, "that I almost didn't go to Priya's gallery that night? I had a deadline the next day and was planning to skip it."

"You hadn't mentioned that." He looked up, intrigued.

"I finished the article early and decided last minute that I should support my friend." You took a bite of fish, appreciating the perfect balance of flavors. "One small decision. Go to a gallery or stay home. And here we are."

"The butterfly effect."

"More like the exhausted-journalist-who-finished-work-early effect, but sure." You smiled at him across the table. "Time travel or not, I think we were supposed to find each other."

"I don't believe in destiny," he reminded you.

"Says the time traveler."

"Time travel is physics. Theoretically. Destiny is..."

"Also physics, if you think about it. Predetermined paths, fixed points in spacetime."

He raised an eyebrow. "Have you been reading physics journals again?"

"Maybe. The baby likes quantum mechanics. She kicks when I read about wave-particle duality."

"Of course she does," he said proudly, as though your unborn child's apparent interest in physics was a personal achievement. "She's brilliant like her mother."

"And modest like her father," you countered, though you couldn't help the warmth that spread through you at the compliment.

That night, as you lay in bed with Jay's body curved protectively around yours, his hand resting on your belly where your daughter occasionally pressed a foot or elbow against his palm, you reflected on the strange, wonderful path you'd traveled.

"What are you thinking about?" he murmured against your hair, always attuned to your shifting moods even when you thought he was drifting to sleep.

"About how sometimes the best futures are the ones we can't plan," you replied, covering his hand with yours. "Even for time travelers."

He chuckled softly. "Especially for time travelers."

"Do you ever miss it?" you asked. "The certainty of knowing what comes next?"

"Never," he said without hesitation, his arm tightening around you. "The future we're creating is better than any I could have foreseen. Besides, certainty is overrated. Where's the excitement in knowing every outcome?"

"Says the man who made a career of eliminating variables and calculating risk."

"I've developed a taste for the unpredictable," he murmured, his lips finding the sensitive spot behind your ear that still made you shiver. "A certain journalist taught me the value of beautiful chaos."

"Chaos theory," you murmured. "Small changes in initial conditions leading to wildly different outcomes."

"Exactly." His hand splayed wider across your belly. "One gallery opening. One conversation. One impulsive dinner invitation that wasn't in my original plan."

"Was anything about that night not calculated?" you asked, genuinely curious. After all this time, there were still pieces of his original strategy you occasionally discovered.

"The way you looked at me," he said softly. "When I made that comment about the abstract painting being 'deliberately obtuse to mask the artist's technical limitations.'"

"I remember. I laughed and said you were 'refreshingly honest for someone wearing a watch that cost more than my rent.'"

"That's the moment I deviated from the script," he admitted. "In my original timeline, we had a brief, pleasant conversation and never saw each other again. But something about your reaction made me want more. That dinner invitation afterward wasn't planned."

"So I have your impulsive deviation to thank for all this?" You gestured vaguely at your life together.

"That, and your capacity to negotiate a marriage contract like you were dismantling a hostile takeover bid."

"I was thorough," you defended. "Anyone would be when being asked to marry a virtual stranger for business purposes."

"You demanded a custom sleep number bed, a language tutor who specialized in colloquial rather than business Korean, and a contract clause about maintaining your own journalistic independence even when writing about companies connected to Park Industries."

"All reasonable requests."

"The Hawaiian pizza provision was a bit much."

"A woman has to draw the line somewhere. No pineapple on pizza in our household is a hill I'm willing to die on."

His laugh vibrated against your back, comfortable and familiar. "I love you, angel. Unreasonable pizza restrictions and all."

"I love you too," you replied, shifting to face him despite your unwieldy belly. "Strategic time-traveling and all."

As you drifted toward sleep in his arms, your daughter shifted inside you, a gentle reminder of the impossible journey that had led to this moment—a contract transformed into commitment, strategy evolved into love, calculation giving way to the beautiful chaos of a life built together.

Sometimes the best vows were the ones you never planned to make, but discovered you wanted to keep anyway.

And sometimes the most calculated beginning led to the most wonderfully unpredictable destination.

fin.

Taglist: @ziiao @beariegyu @seonhoon @somuchdard @ijustwannareadstuff20 @annybah @zzhengyu @naurwayyyyy @ddolleri @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @lovelycassy @highway143 @koizekomi @jaeyunsbimbo @cutehoons02 @deluluscenarios @bubbletaeq @lamin143 @dearestdreamies @heeheeyeoiizz01 @heewhoresimp @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @loudpeachdetective @cristy-101 @ash-engen @miuwonis @pinkglitterpuke @theothernads

[hillbillyoracle]

Now is the Time to Start Masking Again

If you stopped paying attention to COVID with the release of vaccines, you've missed a lot.

COVID is airborne.

Long COVID impacts 10% of people infected by COVID (though this is beginning to look like a low estimate). Risk of Long COVID goes up with each reinfection. Long COVID is worse than initially reported.

Bisexual and trans people are more likely to develop Long COVID.

Black and Hispanic folks are more likely than White folks experience more symptoms and health problems from Long COVID.

***COVID and Long COVID has much more in common with HIV and AIDS than the flu (28:19 - 38:30 of linked video)***

The Basics

[WEBSITE] You Have to Live Your Life

[ZINE] What's Up With COVID and How to Protect Yourself - 2024 Edition

[FAQ] r/ZeroCOVIDCommunity's FAQ and Resource List

"This is great and all but it's overwhelming. TL;DR?"

COVID is airborne. Long COVID is much more common (and serious/debilitating) than previously thought.

Mask with an N95 or better in all indoor spaces and outside when close to others. Improve your indoor air quality by opening windows and using fans/air filters.

Rapid tests are prone to false negatives so make sure to retest in 48 hours after exposure and/or when you develop symptoms. Isolate in the meantime. Consider upgrading to a NAAT (PlusLife, Metrix) or PCR (Lucira) if you have the money.

Things for you to do today:

buy some N95s or request some from a local mask bloc

open a window more often and/or buy an air purifier

buy the best COVID tests you can afford

Basics in Video Form

If you have limited time, watch the videos with * first. They will cover the basics in about 20 minutes.

*VIDEO: COVID is Airborne [2:53]

*VIDEO: What the latest research tells us about long COVID's most common symptoms [5:58]

*VIDEO: FDA warns of false negatives with at home COVID Tests [2:19]

*VIDEO: How to Stay Safe(r) at Home [10:35]

--

VIDEO: The Astounding Physics of N95 Mask [6:08]

VIDEO: Mask Fit 101: Seal [4:07]

VIDEO: Mask Fit 101: Qualitative [3:49]

VIDEO: Mask Fit 102: Quantitative [5:04]

VIDEO: How to get [and give] FREE Masks [6:07]

VIDEO: Try this DIY indoor air purifier for cleaner air [4:22]

VIDEO: Why is EVERYONE more SICK [54:55]

Want to Get Involved?

Join your local Mask Bloc

No local Mask Bloc? Consider starting one

Talk to the people in your life about COVID

Print quality zines and spread them in your communities

Push for COVID Conscious changes in your spaces.

[bamsara]

Hello! I was wondering what company you use for your sticker sheets? I bough one from your Ko-Fi shop and really like the quality, and the pricing you were able to sell at is waaaaaay more reasonable compared to any of the companies I've seen and used myself. Is it a POD company, or a mass purchase of them to sell on your own?

Thank you for your time if you're able to respond!

I'm really glad you like the quality, because I actually make them by hand at home! (Please forgive the lighting, my bedroom is my office lmao.)

I don't use a company (and Idk what a POD company is sorry!) but making them at home gives a lot more freedom of stock, just be wary it can be very time consuming depending on how many you need to make.

I've had other people ask before, so here's a rundown of how I make my stickers at home: At most you'll need:

Printer

Sticker paper (this is the type that I use)

Laminator and lamination paper (the lamination paper that I use.) You can also use adhesive non-heat lamination paper if you don't have a laminator, gives you the same result, just be careful of bubbles. You will get double your worth out of a pack because we are splitting the pouches to cover two sticker sheets.

Your choice of a sticker cutting machine or just using scissors.

First, I use Cricut's software to print out the sticker sheet with the guidelines around the corners so the machine can read it. If you do NOT have a Cricut machine, open up your art program, make a canvas of 2550x3300 and fill it up with your sticker design with some cutting space between them. This the 8.5x11 size for the sticker page.

I usually have bleed selected so the cut comes out cleaner. Tip for non-Cricut users below: Increase the border around your sticker design to fake the 'bleed' effect for a cleaner cut.

These are the print settings I use for my printer. I use the 'use system dialogue' to make sure I can adjust the settings otherwise it prints out low quality by default. Make sure if you're using the above paper that you have 'matte' selected, and 'best quality' selected, these aren't usually selected by default.

So you have your sticker sheet printed! Next is the lamination part. I use a hot laminator that was gifted to me, but there is no-heat types of lamination you can peel and stick on yourself if that's not an option.

(This is for protection and makes the colors pop, but if you prefer your stickers matte, you can skip to the cutting process.)

Important for Cricut users or those planning to get a Cricut: You're going to cut the lamination page to cover the stickers while also not covering the guidelines in the corners. First, take your lamination page and lay it over the sheet, take marker/pen and mark were the edges of your stickers are, and cut off the excess:

(I save the scrap to use for smaller stickers or bonuses later on)

After you've cut out your lamination rectangle, separate the two layers and lay one down on your sticker sheet over your stickers with matte side down, shiny side up. (Save the other sheet for another sticker page)

The gloss of the lamination will prevent the machine from reading the guidelines, so be careful not to lay it over them. It also helps to cut the corners afterwards to prevent accidentally interfering with the guidelines.

Now put that bad boy in the laminator! (Or self seal if you are using non-heat adhesive lamination)

Congrats! You now have a laminated page full of stickers.

For non-cricut/folks cutting them out by hand: this is the part where you start going ham on the page with scisscors. Have fun~

Cutting machine: I put the page on a cutting mat and keep it aligned in the corner, and feed it into the machine. For laminated pages I go between 'cardstock' and 'poster board' so that it cuts all the way through without any issues, but for non-laminated pages or thinner pages, I stick for 'vinyl' and 'light card stock'. Kinda test around.

Now I smash that go button:

You have a sticker now!

The pros of making stickers at home is that you save some cost, and you have more control of your stock and how soon you can make new designs. (I can't really afford to factory produce my stickers anyway)

However, this can be a very time consuming, tedious process especially if you have to make a lot of them. There is also a LOT chance for some errors (misprints, miscuts, lamination bubbles, ect) that will leave you with B-grade or otherwise not-so-perfect or damaged stickers. (Little note, if you have page mess up in printing and can't be fed into the cricut machine, you can still laminate it and cut it out by hand too.)

I have to do a lot of sticker cutting by hand, so if you don't have a cricut don't stress too much about it. I have an entire drawer filled to the top of miscuts/misprints. I keep them because I don't want to be wasteful, so maybe one day they'll find another home. Sucks for my hand though.

But yeah! This is how I make my stickers at home! Hope this is helpful to anyone curious

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hi! Could I request a Shadow Milk Cookie x gender neutral reader x Pure Vanilla Cookie?

Poly relationship please? Fluff hcs!

So this started out a little angsty,,, but there's more fluff towards the end!

.....

At the time of your adventure to the Spire of Knowledge Deceit, you and Pure Vanilla were already together.

Despite the Dark Flour War separating you two for many years, you somehow found your way back to each other, vowing to make up for the lost time...

Now your love was being put through another rigorous test within Shadow Milk's domain.

His games, his trials, and all his attempts to sway Pure Vanilla to his side ended up revealing how lonely the Beast truly felt deep down, and seeing you both persevere hand-in-hand didn't help matters.

Of course, being sealed away in a tree for eons would do that to any normal cookie.

So you had a little bit of sympathy for him...even though you initially hated him for turning your beloved into Truthless Recluse and tormenting you and your friends like this.

But you couldn't forget Pure Vanilla's words when he sensed that droplet of darkness in his other half, his desires to have someone to relate to, and the aching loneliness inside...

The next time you saw him, it was actually you who convinced him to join the Cookie Kingdom.

Of course he was against it, thinking it's another trick, until he comes to realize some painfully obvious truths:

His spire was in ruins, he's got nowhere else to run, his minions were acting insufferable, and he still couldn't get the two of you stupid Cookies out of his goddamn head...

So he agrees, but claims it's only to satiate his boredom until his powers return.

Pure Vanilla sees that he finally reconsidered that offer of friendship he previously denied, and that's good progress.

It's not a simple transition, of course, as during the first week or so, Shadow Milk behaves like a stray dog. One that only knew pain and felt like he'd be judged (especially if the other Beasts were already there).

He snaps at you both if you catch him showing vulnerability, vowing to spread devastating rumors and lies throughout the kingdom....

But neither of you are perturbed, and slowly that wall comes down with enough time and patience.

His yearning for companionship starts to show itself more and more, in the form of little puppet shows he does depicting you three.

For the Cookie Kids, it's silly and entertaining, but you and Pure Vanilla know their real meaning.

Eventually, after having a talk with your healer bf, you two approach Shadow Milk with an offer for him to join your relationship.

At first his face is deadpan, before he howls with laughter and asks what the punchline is....only to find out you're serious.

He didn't like the idea of sharing a partner, much less with the one who has his soul jam, but once you begin showering him with attention and affection...he finds himself warming up to you surprisingly fast.

It just clicks that he didn't have to put on a show or make up lies about himself so you'd like him---he could just be, well, himself, and that was enough.

And he finally gets to be with Pure Vanilla, the only one who actually did understand him.

He still thinks you two are foolish to forgive him, considering he tried tearing apart your relationship, but you assure him that's all in the past.

He might not be entirely good, but he can always be better. And he's shown that he wants that.

Once the relationship becomes more established, you begin seeing the stark contrasts in how they each spend quality time with you alone.

You've known Pure Vanilla as a gentle soul who'd take walks through the gardens with you, have deep discussions about life and how much the kingdom has grown since you both had your memories and powers restored, care for the cream sheep and all animals who reside on the kingdom grounds...

And now you've come to know Shadow Milk as a clingy jester who drags you into (harmless) games of chess, cards, etc., convinces you to assist him in pranks, and leaves gifts from the other-realm by your nightstand (mainly plushies and other trinkets resembling himself).

While it was unusual for Black Sapphire and Candy Apple to see their master act this way...he's come to accept it quicker, seeing that his happiness is genuine, while she pouts from time to time about no longer being the "favorite", always giving you the side-eye, but you won her favor after insisting that Shadow Milk paid attention to her at least once in a while.

Eventually, you come to learn of his touch-starved nature, as he frequently shapeshifts into some fluffy animal to cuddle with you and/or Pure Vanilla (and you both know it's him 100% of the time).

He doesn't know how to ask for a hug without sounding pathetic. But you get tired of waiting.

So one day, you just drag him onto the bed for cuddles, giving him no time to disguise himself, and at first he gets upset, especially when the healer walks in and asks why he felt the need to always do that...

Until he realizes how warm and comfortable your embrace is; and with Pure Vanilla on the other side of him, his dough nearly turns to putty, and before you could let go, he clings to you both tighter.

Does he cry into your arms? Yeah. But he won't admit he's crying even if there's tearstains on your clothes and makeup running down his face.

Still, you and Pure Vanilla won't say anything about it and just let him hold you for as long as he needed, happy that he's finally willing to accept this one simple truth into his heart:

The truth that he belonged here and was meant to be with you both.

[4rticbolt]

Death Of Pizzaz |Master-list|

Trafalgar Law x !Fem!Reader, fluffy, spicy, first kiss, yearning Law cause why not, make-out, he's a tease fr, you test his patience, bickering

You have some sharpies to your 'arsenal' and your dear captain is your victim...

•-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-•

•-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-•

It was creeping into a late evening on the Polar Tang. The crew had tiredly retreated to their rooms after night watch had taken over in navigation. You quietly walked through the halls to your captain's room, surrounded in a dark hue from the seal covered windows and the dark sea. Small circular lights lit up your path, following from the floor to the stairs, overcasting a soft white glow throughout the sub.

You hopped down the final step, gently knocking on Law's door as you couldn't be bored any longer. You had spent an hour trying to fall asleep, but ultimately you gave in and craved the presence of your lover. A muffled "Come in," sounded through the door and you casually strolled in, stuffing your hands in your pockets. An unmistakable clink of sharpies hit against your hands, and you tightened your grip hopefully muffling them.

A little decor couldn't hurt, could it?

Your captain was the unsuspecting victim, as he hadn't taken his attention off the comic he was reading, something he'd have tossed and hidden if it wasn't for your familial gaze. You'd picked up on his nerdy tendencies a long time ago, and Law eventually excepted his fate, giving it up to share with you. His hair was unkept and messy, something you’d come to love along with his flimsy tank, praising the view it gave you.

“What are you doing?” Law asked, reclining silently against the couch. His infamous hat, and sword had rested close by, propped against his desk.

“What I can’t have quality time?” you smiled, feigning absolute innocence as you'd crawled into his lap, soaking up his touch. You always loved these relaxed moments. As it wasn't often he let go, more-overly stressed and constantly planning for the future, he was barely at ease.

But with you in his arms he could make an exception.

He let out a hum in response. "Depends what your after," he mumbled, adjusting himself under your weight, shifting back against the couch's armrest. Law brought his hand to soothingly rub over your shoulder, closing his eyes for needed peace.

You quietly watched as he closed his comic in hand, unknowingly knowing he was listening to your heartbeat, which thudded softly against his upper thigh.

You didn't know it, but your captain tended to listen to your pulse for a sense of comfort, remembering you were there with him: that you were real. That it wasn't some dream, and that he wasn't in some nightmare where you weren't.

He adored when you were like this, needfully resting by his side away from prying eyes—though he'd never admit it. Law would let his guard down with you, settling still in your innocent embrace. He opened his eyes to watch you shift, taking in the way your head gently rested against his hip.

He thought it was a heartfelt gesture really, but when you grabbed his arm and pulled it to your chest he thought otherwise. A soft click emitted, and a cold swipe crossed his skin, leaving him confused.

"What the hell are you doing?" he muttered, quickly pulling away your wrist.

"Nothing, just gimme your arm," you replied, trying to grab it again.

"Seriously? ____ I'm not you're coloring book, no."

"Oh don't be so stuck up, it'll wash off eventually," you stubbornly grabbed his arm again, tracing his tattoos as you ignored him completely. You were off in your own world now, leaving your captain to a very grumpy demise. You didn't pay attention to the way he'd grumble or keep to his lingering gaze.

A few minutes passed and you'd finally fucked up, scribbling over your design, "Okay, that's enough." Law cut sharp to your name, quickly grabbing the pen tossing it aside to his table.

"Really?" he deadpanned, taking in the scribbled pieces.

"What? It'll wash off."

"Yeah, in a few days, it's literally black sharpie you idiot," Law scolded, flicking your forehead with a scoff.

You let out your own huff, shifting in his arms to sit comfortably against him, leaning into his chest. Your head personally thunked against his shoulder, though you eased when his arms wrapped around you again. His lip quirked in amusement as your masked mumbles were only so long-lived.

He often was firm with you. But it could never stay that way. His irritated expression relaxed, and he called your name taking in his scribbled arm.

“You realize these are permanent tattoos, right?” He asked, swiping him thumb across your hip.

"Yeah, I just enhanced em' though." You said absentmindedly.

"I think you should get it re-tattooed like that."

. . .

Law snorted, manhandling you to face him, "I love your artwork and all but I think I'll post-pone that." he remarked, bringing his hands to your sides. You immediately faked a hurt look and he cracked. He couldn't look you straight in the eyes when they grew glossy like that.

“You're serious?" he muttered, swallowing unbelievably hard. You shattered his resolve, and he feared he might not be able to say no.

"You broke my heart Law, I put my soul into that." you said dramatically, seemingly putting an ease to his inner torment, but it only irked him. He flicked you again creating a red spot, and you quietly yelped—covering it.

He really thought you were serious, and he'd been a sucker enough to believe it.

"It just looks better," you retaliated, squirming in his arms as he'd reached a ticklish spot.

"Better? Really? You must've borrowed that soul from one of Bepo's maps then," he snarked, cracking a smile as he'd finally gotten a laugh out of you. He'd come to love that sound the more and more he knew you, every day and every moment he loved to hear it, to see it.

Your chaotic remarks and energy were his livelihood, and he'd at times been too dense to see it. It had taken years before there'd been an ounce of romance in your relationship, and that was after years of trustworthy hardships.

Law had finally backed you off his lap, putting an end to your 'assault,’ which only brought you to hide between his thighs with a muffled "Shut up!"

“Oi, don’t do that,” he stumbled, feeling a pit in his stomach. His arms quickly came up under your's, sliding you upright, which seemed to relieve the strange tension in his stomach. He'd been a fool to say it wasn't a common feeling.

It’d always been a strong feeling, specifically and only for you. And he'd usually been the one to try and ignore it.

He wasn't sexually inclined, as he said he didn't have time for it. It wasn't his main goal, and he didn't have time for that lust and desire—meaning it wasn't his strong suit. You'd been the flirty type in the past, but if he simply wasn't ready—he wasn't ready; and you had never held him to that.

“Don’t what?” you deadpanned, glaring softly.

“Don’t pout,” he sighed, brushing off his blush as he grabbed your chin, tilting your head back. Law couldn’t tell if you were being dense or doing it on purpose. Either way; it was infuriating.

“I’m not.”

"You are," Law interjected, taking in your form atop him. His mind wandered and he knew he was in trouble. Because he knew that no matter what he tried to ignore, he was always wrapped around your pretty little finger. Regardlessly…that's all you were, trouble.

You for once, seemed to quiet. Finally put at a loss for words. Your voice practically died in your throat and you couldn't help but question his intense gaze, you hadn't seen him look at you like that before.

Maybe once or twice but never like that. And it’d always pissed you off when he could put you in your place, before you could even begin to argue.

"I. am. not." you challenged, leaning closer—attempting to hold your ground. But it faltered when he drug his hand to your throat.

“Mm, yeah not anymore,” He whispered, overthrowing your little flirty act with a gentle squeeze your throat. He saw your face light up and he let out a whispery laugh. Law was enjoying himself.

On the other hand, you were internally panicking, opting to lean back, because Law had never been this forward with you. He'd been dense about that kinda thing, but obviously this was not the freaking case.

You swallowed against his hand, leaning back, but his lips caught you before you could own up to it. You heard a groan leave his lips before it swallowed your own, leaving your head spinning. You leaned forward, shifting your hips, and it only encouraged him.

His free hand squeezed your hip, and the hand around your throat tightened, though it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was more like a handle for him to hold. Your breath shuddered, and you forced yourself to breathe through your nose.

He'd caught you off guard and you couldn't seem get a grip.

You finally parted to breathe and his own blush matched your own. He gave a whole lotta' talk and do behind his pose, but deep down he was just as flustered as you.

"Don't be a smart ass," you muttered, bringing his hand away, but it only tightened around your smaller hand.

“Then don’t stick your head where it doesn’t belong.”

. . .

"What?—I didn't--"

"What?" he asked impassively, keeping a firm hold. He shifted causally beneath you and you knew he was doing it on purpose...that sarcastic bastard.

"Don't what me you know what!" you snapped, trying to pull your hands away, but he held on. His smirk grew and your blush heightened.

"What? That you like my hand around your throat? I figured, I didn't know it'd shut you up though." he leaned forward, attempting to whisper in your ear.

"Trafalgar Law!"

[jinjeriffic]

DCxDP Prophecy Universe Part 2

Part 1

Damian glared at the envelope. He and Father were in the process of analysing the letter for any signs of toxins, explosives or other traps. Obviously he wasn’t fool enough to open a missive from a questionable source without taking precautions. So far, all their scans had come up empty. Literally. The letter was defying all their attempts at chemical or spectroscopic testing, x-ray and magnetic resonance scans were inconclusive, it defied all properties of ordinary matter. It was frustrating. It was vexing. He was blaming magic.

For all intents and purposes, the letter looked like ordinary paper, with an ordinary wax seal, bearing the initials CW. The looping handwriting addressing it to Damian was precise and neat. Swiping the surface of the letter for chemical traces yielded no results. When Damian had tried to cut off a corner of the paper for analysis it had resisted all attempts, including a laser and a diamond headed cutting tool. Damian’s only satisfaction was that when Father had grunted and taken over the task from Damian, he had no more success than his son. As if Damian didn’t know how to perform the standard array of tests!

It certainly didn’t help that his siblings wouldn’t stop their incessant chattering!

“I’m just saying, ghosts wouldn’t be the weirdest thing we’ve encountered, Red. I’m not sure it would even make my personal Top 5.”

It seemed gossip among heroes travelled faster than the speed of light.

“Really, Nightwing? Ghosts? It’s far more likely to be a meta with something to hide. Or a few screws loose.” Damian could practically hear the eyeroll in Drake’s voice “And since when do ghosts act as glorified mailmen?”

“I don’t know Red, since when do aliens pretend to be Kansas farmboys? C’mon, we deal with magic users all the time!”

“And lets not forget people coming back from the dead” Red Hood interjected over the open comm line.

“Magic is just science we don’t understand yet. Any sufficiently analysed magic becomes indistinguishable from science!”

“B, a little help here?”

“Hn” Father straightened up from his position at the lab table “Oracle, any progress on clearing up the footage from Robin’s mask?”

Grayson threw up his hands with a frustrated huff while Drake smirked.

“The program is almost finished rendering. Whatever scrambler they used did a real number on the video quality. I’m surprised the audio is as clear as it is.” Oracle replied.

“Hn. And the isotope tracer on the money?”

“Sorry B, no hits on the local sensors. Wherever the guy went it’s either outside Gotham or shielded somehow.” she said, mildly frustrated.

“Maybe it’s ghost magiiiiic” Drake sing-songed. Grayson lightly cuffed the back of his head, to which the former Robin responded with a firm shove. Their interaction quickly devolved into a childish tussle.

Damian gave an annoyed huff. “Don’t you two imbeciles have anything better to do?”

“Aww, we’re just here to look out for our baby brother!” Nightwing teased.

“Yeah, we gotta make sure your ghost encounter didn’t leave any lasting psychological damage!” Red Robin added.

Before Damian could retaliate for their needling, Oracle chimed in. “Uh, guys? You’re going to want to see this. Most of the footage was corrupted beyond repair, but I was able to pull some partial stills and, well…” she threw a handful of pictures up on the screen. There was artifacting marring them, but parts of the stranger were visible in each of them. Oracle magnified one that had a pretty good view of his face.

“Holy shit” Drake whispered.

Damian frowned. “What?”

“Dami, he looks like you. Just… older.” Grayson said softly.

“What are you talking about?” Damian snapped.

“Disregard the pale colouring for a second. The nose, the chin… he looks like you if you had a growth spurt,” Drake wrinkled his nose “and went through puberty.”

The commlines erupted into chaos. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Spoiler exclaimed “are you telling me there’s an older version of Robin running around Gotham?!”

“Copy?” Batgirl inquired.

“Don’t tell me Talia cooked up Demon Brat 2.0!”

“Given that he looks older it’s more likely version 0.1 if anything,” Drake snarked, “though there’s the possibility of artificially accelerated growth rates…”

Damian had had enough. “Tt. You are ignoring the obvious - if this is some kind of supernatural entity it likely copied aspects of my appearance in an attempt to engender feelings of familiarity.” he said haughtily, pushing down the uncomfortable churning in his stomach. There was no way Mother would replace him with a cheap copy. She couldn’t! “Besides, the creature has obvious powers and neither of my bloodlines has any trace of the meta gene.”

“That’s ignoring the ghostly elephant in the room.” Grayson chimed in, “Maybe it’s a dead ancestor?”

Drake gave their older brother an annoyed look “Even a time travelling descendant from the future is more likely than that. And delivering a ‘prophecy’ to boot?”

Oracle pulled up an aged up picture of Damian next to the stranger’s, highlighting several reference points. “On closer inspection, there’s a couple of discrepancies. The cheekbones for one - Robin definitely takes after his mother, while our mystery meta looks more like… well… Robin’s grandmother on the paternal side.” she finished hesitantly. “B?”

They turned to look at Batman, who had remained silent during the whole exchange. If they hadn’t known him so well they would have thought him unaffected, but the tightening around his mouth betrayed his agitation.

“There’s no use in pointless speculation until we have more data to work from,” he growled, “Oracle, look for any reports of a meta matching the target. Since our regular methods have failed to yield results, I will contact the JLD about running tests on the letter.” He turned to Drake, “Red Robin, see what you can find on recent League activities. If this is another scheme by Ra’s or Talia we need to know about it.”

“The last thing we need is more demon spawn running around!” Red Hood groaned over the comms.

Damian was furious. This was absurd! To even indulge the possibility that that creature was in any way related to him was making him feel like he had swallowed battery acid. He was the Demon’s Heir! He was not replaceable! There was only one thing to do.

“Robin? Stop!”

He ignored his Father’s shout. He stomped over to the lab table, snatched up the envelope and broke the seal.

Nothing happened.

He unfolded the paper and saw the same handwriting that had been on the outside.

Brother of blood, brother of soul

Never buried but already mourned

In lightning and ice the scorned child returned

To strike down the Demon’s Head

With all that Death earned

Damian’s hand shook. He reread the lines over and over again, refusing to comprehend. He could feel his Father standing behind him, scrutinising the letter as well.

“Son…”

Suddenly, the paper burst into green flames, going up into smoke that dissipated unnaturally quickly.

Silence reigned for a few moments. Then…

“Well that was needlessly melodramatic” Nightwing remarked.

Part 3

[heyimkana]

i have an idea about teacher! Sung Jinwoo x teacher!Reader where they both teach in the same class and then like their students like basically ship them together and then one day when they both come to class together, the students make a prank that makes reader and jinwoo kiss (I would've made this but im like, lazy to write rn plus I have a bunch of other ideas 😭)

OOOOOOH WORKPLACE LOVERS TEACHER!JINWOO X TEACHER!READER 😩

in my head, reader definitely falls for him first—i mean who wouldn't right? just imagine teacher jinwoo... all dressed in black pants, crisp white button down with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. god, maybe he even wears glasses 😩 he's so articulate when he speaks, his mannerisms poised and polite, and he doesn't talk a lot but whenever he does, people will listen not because they have to but because they want to. he has unmatched charisma, very strict with his students when it comes to grades and assignments but is also very kind and nurturing at the same time. the male students think he's cool, the female students drools all over his shoes but jinwoo stays nonchalant as always, unfazed, unbothered.

then there's a little bit shy teacher!reader who dedicates all her life for her students, always going home late at night, trying to come up with new programs and schedules so they can improve more. she works hard, takes her job very seriously and jinwoo secretly admires her for that from afar. he doesn't try to date her or anything (i don't think that thought will ever cross his mind cause he's always so serious and he doesn't want to bring romance into his workplace), but before he knows it, he's grown protective of her and he wants to take care of her as best as he can, as friends (or so he thought lol).

he often shows his affection by bringing her coffee whenever he makes one for himself, or sometimes staying late just so he can offer to walk her home (because it's getting dark and he's worried about her safety). sometimes he brings two umbrellas to school when it's about to rain because he knows she always forgets to bring one with her. jinwoo always carries an umbrella with him regardless what the forecast tells him, so one time, when it suddenly poured, they walked together, sharing his umbrella and he made sure that she stayed dry even if it meant his shoulder would get drenched (and it did but he didn't mind at all).

so yeah naturally the students would start gossiping about them. one day, during the school festival, they made this fun booth called the "Love Fortune Booth" like a fun attraction where guests can come in pairs and get a "fortune" from the magical love machine. the booth is, of course, rigged. every pair that enters is basically forced to kiss or hug or make a love confession before they can walk free from the booth. the door will only open once they get to do the dare.

a student shouts "teachers should test it first for quality control!" and then they push jinwoo and reader into the booth. jinwoo is just like "these kids i swear 😑" but then he sees reader looking all flustered and nervous (and maybe excited?) and he can't help feeling a tiny bit nervous too.

the machine says something like: "Fate has spoken. A perfect match has been found. The bond shall only be sealed with a kiss!"

jinwoo huffs, "well, i guess the machine works just fine."

reader can't even meet him in the eyes, saying "yeah" under her breath

before he knows it, he's glancing at her lips—they're red and pretty and glossy and—he looks away, scratching the back of his neck. "We... don't have to do it, you know."

"I-I know."

but neither of them moves away.

she then shyly looks at him. "it says that... we have to do it if we want to unlock the door."

jinwoo sighs, running a hand through his hair "this is a trap."

but then he glances at her again and this time he catches her staring at his lips (just for a second) and his heart starts to pound. "Do you..." he can't even finish it. he doesn't know if he should.

she swallows nervously, heartbeat escalating. "i-i won't mind if... you're okay with it."

and something inside him snaps. his realization dawns on him. he wants this. no, he's been wanting to kiss her for so long. and so he leans in, cups her cheek in his hand, and he kisses her. Sweet, tender, tentative at first but immediately melts into the kiss when he feels her responding. they kiss languidly, deep but never too far (he tries to keep himself under control). when they break free, she's left a bit dazed, breathing out, "that... was for the prank?"

jinwoo glides his thumb across her lips, still captivated by how pretty, how sweet they taste. "No," he says quietly. "That was for me."

[ccitusa]

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By adopting methods like vacuum decay and airborne ultrasound, manufacturers can better manage risk, enhance product quality, and meet the expectations of both regulators and end users. The shift toward deterministic testing isn't just about keeping up — it’s about moving forward with smarter, science-driven packaging strategies.

[csuitebitches]

Fearless Social Confidence: Strategies to Live Without Fear, Speak Without Insecurity, Beat Social Anxiety, and Stop Caring What Others Think - Patrick King book notes

Socially confident people:

expect to be accepted. When they meet strangers, they expect to make a good impression. They never approach situations thinking, “What if they don’t like me?” Instead they think, “I hope I like them.”

evaluate themselves positively. Socially confident people are encouraging, positive, and accepting of themselves. They give themselves leeway not to be perfect and don’t beat themselves up too harshly when they are not.

feel comfortable around superiors. Socially confident people feel comfortable because they don’t feel threatened, or that their flaws and vulnerabilities will be highlighted by the other person’s qualities.

With a lack of social confidence, you are usually choosing the thought that is cruelest to yourself.

when navy SEALs recognize that they are feeling overwhelmed, they regain control by focusing on their breath—breathing in for four seconds, holding for four seconds, and then out for four seconds, and repeating until you can feel your heart rate slow down and normalize.

Core beliefs: 

Steps in a thought diary entry can be arranged in the easy-to-remember A-C-B format—

Activating Event. Note down the event/ situation. This is simply the origin point of your emotional change. It’s whatever caused your emotional status to change from calm to agitation (a memory, a song, etc).

Consequences. In this step you identify the specific emotions and sensations that arose. These could be simple feeling words— “anxious,” “unhappy,” “sickened,” “panicky,” “melancholy,” “confused,” and so forth.

Beliefs. This is where the action begins. How do you link the activating event with the consequences? What unconscious narrative or story about yourself was told to achieve the consequence? (“What was I thinking?”  “What was going through my head when this happened?”  “What’s wrong with that?”“What does this all mean?”  “What does it reveal about me?”)

Now you’ve gotten to the bottom of your situation and figured out what your core beliefs are.

The first step is writing down one of the core beliefs you’ve just uncovered. Ask yourself what experiences you’ve had that prove your core belief wasn’t always true. Generate as many experiences as you can and be very specific about what happened.

Write down the core belief you’re examining.  Think of ways that you can put that belief to the test. These are actual tasks that you can perform.  Then, write down what you expect or predict will happen after conducting these tasks if your core belief was true.  Perform the tasks.  Write down what really happened after you completed your task.  Compare and contrast your predictions with what actually happened. Finally, document what you learned from the task and come up with a new, more reasonable core belief that goes in line with your discoveries.

Bushman’s results imply that sometimes the best course of action after being provoked to anger is to just sit quietly and let it pass.

There’s a direct link between social anxiety and negativity. A 2016 Australian research study showed that “elevated social anxiety vulnerability is characterized only by facilitated attentional engagement with socially negative information.” Obsessing over negative details—including by constantly talking about one’s problems—only reinforces one’s social fears and does nothing to inspire real confidence in a social setting.

Personalization is the mother of guilt. In the cognitive distortion of personalizing, you feel responsible for events that cannot conceivably be your fault. While it is admirable to take responsibility for your actions, there are things completely out of your control: the subway schedule, other people’s actions, and a million day-to-day factors.

Common cues of overgeneralization are “always” and “never.” When starting a sentence or a thought with “always” or “never,” consider whether you have the experience or evidence to back up the statement.

Other people aren't only what they are showing to the world. Most people put on a good show. But do you really know what might be going on in their private life? Take comfort from the fact that while there will be many people who are better at certain things than you are, there are also most certainly things that you will be better at.

If you are self-conscious and worried that people will judge you if you say something stupid or “off,” there's an easy workaround to that. The best approach is simple preparation. Create answers to predictable questions and conversations. Run that mental videotape in your mind about your past 10, 20, or 30 social conversations. I guarantee they are not all that different from each other.

Figure out the general questions that people will ask and the topics that will come up in normal conversation and be prepared with story-answers. For example, How was your weekend? What are you doing this weekend? How was your day? What do you do for work?

How can we ease ourselves into social confidence little by little? 

List the social situations you avoid. Ask yourself what kinds of gatherings or circumstances you steer clear of and write them all down in a list. Your list should include both physical situations—parties, family gatherings, work presentations, and so forth—and personal experiences that you don’t want to face.

Give each situation a SUDS level from 0 to 100.

Plan your goals.

Build your goal stepladder. You’ve planned a goal and have decided to start work. Remember, situational exposure is a bit-by-bit process.

[thevouofficial]

Discover why the Barbour Beaufort has remained unchanged since 1983: it's simply perfect. This medium-weight, relaxed-fit jacket offers year-round versatility and boasts the royal seal of approval from Prince Charles himself. Unlike trend-chasing fashion items, the Beaufort represents a true investment in British heritage and timeless style. Have you experienced the enduring quality of a Barbour jacket? Share your thoughts on why some designs truly stand the test of time. Visit our website to explore the iconic Beaufort collection and find your own piece of British heritage.

[winterumi]

An Icewing. I think they should have some sort of color highlights- yellow goes nicely with blue. And be fluffy! I headcanon baby Icewings to be like seals, in that they are very fluffy and as they age, they shed the fuzz. Testing out a new brush, which i will certainly be using lots! (under the cut)

Click for better quality!

[cosmic-metanoia]

The Ruler of Life and Death

***Spoilers for Final Fantasy XVI***

<Edited to add some missing scenes!> Over time, I have written several FFXVI character analysis posts and Joshua is intertwined throughout most of them.

But I held off on writing his own post because frankly...there is just too much to say. As Johnathan Case (the English VA) once said, Joshua is "full of contradictions."

But the Tumblr world deserves more Joshua so...here we are!

My angle of approach - I will choose one word that encompasses many of his astounding qualities - self-possession.

(You got it! It's a word that Jote uses in her inner voice about a completely different character.)

Self-possession doesn't just mean "control over one's emotions." Afterall - having "control" over something implies that you can lose it.

Self-possession refers to mastery over one's destiny and being a fixed point within the chaotic storm rather than being pulled under the waves.

As a child, Joshua understandably had imposter syndrome. Makes sense considering who stood beside him. His highly admired and beloved older brother who, for reasons unknown, was passed over by the Phoenix. Instead of selecting the heroic teenager, the Eikon of Fire chose the sweet and frail little brother.

Thirteen years later, we witness in awe as a well-travelled Joshua confidently strides into Drake's Head to protect Clive and Jill. Everything about him emanates self-possession - his gestures, his stance, his diction, his facial expressions. HE is the shield now and he knows exactly how this game of chess with Ultima will end. Every move is intentional.

Five years after that, we see his self-possession when he kindly turns away Kihel's offer to heal him of his blood-ridden coughs while travelling on the crystalline road with Jote. He would rather have Kihel save her medicines to help others.

And despite the couple of times he doubts his abilities to keep Ultima sealed, Joshua presses on with grace and determination.

One of the most BEAUTIFUL examples of self-possession was when he emerges uninvited in Dion's tent. The man who was supposedly dead now stands before all with complete composure and authority. Through his subtle yet monumental gestures, it is plain that Joshua holds absolute conviction in his heart that Dion will not harm him or turn him in - despite the fact that Dion's loyalties lie with the very nation that destroyed Joshua's homeland.

The chilling reunion between Joshua and Anabella really tests Joshua's self-possession in the midst of so many emotional barrages from earlier. Instead of dismissing her or ragefully calling her out for destroying so many lives, he does something extraordinary. He reaches his hand out to her in a last act of mercy that no one else was willing to give her.

Another example of self-possession is when Joshua reveals the extent of his dire situation to Clive and Jill in the infirmary after the fall of the Crystalline Dominion. Notice how he revealed it with a soft smile and a gentle voice in contrast to Clive and Jill's horror and outrage. Joshua knows the consequences of his actions and chose that path willingly without a single regret.

Joshua is far from weak. He's the only Dominant able to seal Ultima within and continuously heal himself. Yet he STILL wakes up every day to fight by Clive's side and slay every beast in their path...all with a kind smile and words of wisdom. Always mindful, always demonstrating self-possession in the midst of pain.

A small but notable dialogue exchange between the brothers is when Clive expresses concern for Joshua's ability to take on a huge ambush of beasts in Waloed. Joshua's answer is one of acknowledgement and even humor. He is clearly in command of his situation - the situation is not in command of him.

One of the most noteworthy scenes that rarely gets touched on is the battle with the Behemoth in Waloed. When Clive reaches out with his hand to stop Behemoth's meteor and wanted to prime into Ifrit, Joshua exclaimed, "Why do you turn to him, brother?! When we fight, we fight together." And does Joshua also reach out to prevent the meteor from obliterating them? Nope....he heals Clive's hand continuously - being his support and his fixed point in the sea of chaos.

And there were several emotional scenes throughout the game where Joshua is spiritually and emotionally the steadfast center in Cilve's tumultuous world as symbolized by the phoenix feather he carries.

Of course, Joshua isn't always perfect in maintaining self-possession at all times.

Generally speaking, he is patient and not easily aggravated....but when he does snap, you freaking watch and listen. I'm talking about THE infamous Clive-gets-a-hook-punch-to-the-face-from-lil-bro that was felt around the world. But even in that context, Joshua was still thinking about Jill and standing up for her.

During the VERY dangerous encounter with Barnabas on the Enterprise, symbolically speaking, Joshua dangled on the edge of the self-possession but kept one hand gripping firmly at its edge. He almost lost himself in the fires of frustration and anger that Barnabas attempted to stoke.

We also see a heart-breaking example of his self-possession - Joshua foregoing romantic attachments in order to spare them the inevitable suffering if he doesn't make it in the end.

In the end....

Despite so many fans thinking Ultima would puppet his body and/or mind, Joshua demonstrates his mastery of self-possession - literally until the moment he dies in Clive's arms.

Joshua had every reason and opportunity to be spoiled (former little prince of Rosaria), self-centered (messiah of the Undying), haughty (like Anabella), unforgiving (Phoenix Gate/Night of Flames incident), greedy (being a Dominant), and hateful (a mix of traumas within his lifetime).

But this man OWNS his trauma and processes it to make him strong in the spirit and self-sacrificing for those he loves.

Perhaps that self-possession is something we can all apply to our own lives.

[amazeingartist]

alien vibe times (octosoap edition)

“alien soap being an apex predator species that ghost’s team finds floating in a test tube during a laboratory raid. soap’s conscious and floating around, tracking ghost’s movement in particular with large star filled blue eyes”

(slight divergence from the writing to this but shhh it’s fine)

(and full design here with all my little starting notes and scuffed as fuck photobash doodle)

here are some more notes that go into it a bit more if you’d like to read em (I basically made the species first and then was like, “ok soap your this now” lmao)

(also sorry for not posting for a bit before the global strike, hopefully this makes it up a bit)

currently calling the species “cephalopinna,” literally just combined scientific names lmao

physically they look like an octopus given seal qualities, but they don’t have as many bones as most of their body is just pure muscles. the bones they do have are dense like most aquatic life, and are there to support vital organs or provide the most simplistic skeletal structure

the planet cephalopinna live on is entirely water, with the landmass being submerged and most of the time floating along with the planets current. plantlife does exist, these landmasses varying in size and vegetation—from coral reefs and underwater forests, to sandbanks and floating debris.

cephalopinna are an incredibly intelligent and semi-social species, usually only straying away from other members of their species when a pair are incubating their young

cephalopinna are monogamous and only have one partner, at most two if the first partner dies, otherwise they can die from loneliness after being paired

cephalopinna also have up to 4 spawn but usually only one or two make it maturity. also technically have eggs that are kept tucked away under the hood of the adults neck, next to the gills so that they’re oxygenated and once born, cephalopinna will raise their young to maturity (young could be called pups, cubs, or whelps)

they are incredibly territorial and both male and female “equivalents” of cephalopinna will fight off a competitor to be paired (I say equivalents because there is no proper determination or designation of a male or female sex within the species by human standards)

courtships are dances where a pair will flash colours, gifts of food, and tests of intelligence via what could be considered puzzles (intelligence is highly regarded among cephalopinna)

the front fins have claws that can used for hunting, foraging, fighting, even potentially grooming (gently scraping off algae and parasites) and are very functional as hands as they sorta have a thumb claw

cephalopinna are incredibly large but are excellent ambush predators, laying in wait to latch on and bite while pumping prey full of venom. if the ambush fails, they will chase down the prey till they are close enough to prick them with venom to then follow behind from a safe distance as the prey succumbs to their incredibly potent paralytic toxin

their teeth can crush through bone, nothing of the prey is ever left afterwards

they have a long life expectancy

the connective tissue between their primary tentacles stretch to cover body, while swimming cephalopinna will cover themselves to be more hydrodynamic. they also often do this when sleeping out in the open to protect themselves.

cephalpinna grind their back teeth, like deer, which reverberates through the water, add it with their aptitude for colours, this form of communication has multiple meanings

they have an incredibly advanced camouflage ability, which helps soap in particular in this au appear human. for whatever evolutionary purpose, they have the ability to breathe earth’s—and a few other planets—atmosphere, however they do need to be kept appropriately hydrated it would seem

[noxiousgrace]

TCF/LCF headcanon

Honestly one of my favourite headcanons i have so far about krs and og!cale is the fact they're both able to draw

I have explanations for both

The reason krs is able to draw:

During the cataclysm, a lot of methods of recording things became very scarce. (We see this during the sealed gods test when krs relies on the abilities of other people to record whatever they'll need for the future. Information about monsters, how to deal with them, etc.)

And I'm assuming electricity relies on ability users as well considering how devastating the cataclysm was to earth. It would be hard to maintain a power plant during the beginning whilst not knowing how to survive in the new ruined world, so charging devices are out of the question. As far as batteries go, they aren't permanent solutions either, and would run out eventually.

And relying on ability users isn't easy either, first of all getting a power specifically needed for this issue is a very rare occurrence and people on earth aren't sure how these abilities are assigned (they do have theories that it's related to the og persons personality, but I haven't seen any confirmations on this. And i haven't finished reading book 2 of lcf so if the answer is a spoiler from that half then correct me if I'm wrong)

And krs received the ability to record everything he sees and to never forget it, he has the perfect opportunity to make physical copies of information and the subsequent imagery. This would make information accessible to everyone else and also raise their chances of survival because they won't be taking blind shots in the dark in intense situations.

There isn't a reason why krs would refuse to learn how to draw and show everyone what to be wary of.

I don't think he would've learnt how to draw as a kid. Doodles before his parents passed away? Definitely. After moving in with his uncle and having to survive the abuse that followed it? Probably not. (But this doesn't negate the fact he could've tried drawing his parents so he wouldn't forget them, but the quality of his work would've upset him and he could've given up on that along with everything else)

Another reason is to have identification of deceased bodies. He remembers everything, and would easily identify any corpse out in the field as long as he'd seen that person before their death.

In case any of their records or pictures got lost krs would make a sketch and they'd frame it and use it if they were capable of holding any funeral or adding the portrait to the tombstone. (I definitely believe making portraits of LSH and CJS definitely hurt him emotionally)

Why og!cale is able to draw

I don't have a very extensive headcanon as to why og!cale can draw, but i find the idea that he doesn't want to forget his mothers face very endearing. Plus he's from an artisan family and would have to be artistic at some level (well, violan is the artistic one since she values sculptures i think, correct me if I'm wrong) so she could've tried teaching him how to draw and sculpt as a way to bond with him and not leave him as an outcast in his own family. (Maybe she saw his earlier sketches and found his frustration in being unable to replicate jours face and decided to give him tips)

And if they do have a big portrait of jour in the house I'd like to think it was painted by cale