#[Ahahaha...the world is not prepared]

[baeshijima]

— stardust

the world is a vast place. in the grand scheme of things, humans are but a speck of dust; much like how you are sure you are nothing but a meagre speck of dust in the world he lives in, forever to be remained unseen. (if only you knew how you are the brightest star he'd ever laid his eyes upon.)

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 1.5k wc, royalty!au, contract marriage/marriage of convenience, fluff, smitten reca bc what would he be other than smitten, a little hint of bittersweet at the end if read between the lines aha...

A/N : ....i have a paper due monday. i havent started it. why do i do this to myself. (reca i love u can u not hear my cries and wails as fic after fic appears in my brain for u...)

Duke Reca of the northern territory; to many he is a well-accomplished noble, a young genius set for greater things, and the owner-slash-founder of the top theatre company. He is an idol — a role model to those who aspire to be more involved in the artistic side of the world.

To you, however, he is an absolute lunatic, the bane of your existence, and your contractual husband.

It's not like you had much choice. It was either: a) remain as a hollow puppet whose strings danced at your family's fingertips, or b) find some way to escape with outside power.

You, of course, chose the second option. Unfortunately, that somehow led to you meeting the young duke when out in the shopping district, trying to escape the suffocating presence of your family's knights accompanying you by running into a secluded alleyway, even if it was for but a momentary breather.

It was a whirlwind of a meeting... quite literally. Bodies flew; clothing tousled; breaths stolen. Well, at least for you it was like this. He, on the other hand, looked right as rain. (Lucky bastard.) You hadn't realised it was him at first, too absorbed in hasty apologies and the numbing bloom spreading across your backside like a wildfire (really, they ought to incorporate more padding in these flimsy clothes!), but when he uttered an apology of his own for not paying attention to his surroundings with an arm outstretched to help you stand, your mind all but blanked. What was someone of his status doing in a dingy alley? Didn't the newspapers report word of his self-confinement, having not stepped foot outside his manor in fervent preparation of his upcoming performance?

No, never mind all that; wasn't this a blatant opportunity being presented to you? An outside power that could help you escape the clutches of your family...

With gritted teeth, all sense of self-dignity was cast aside as you grasped his outstretched hand with both of your own, gazing into his widened eyes with your own narrowed ones.

"Your Grace, I know this is hardly the appropriate time nor place, but please... marry me!" Your words echoed within the enclosed space. Duke Reca blinked slowly down at you, and it was then you realised you never elaborated. "In... in a contractual marriage of convenience, of course."

"Oh?" he grinned, amusement and intrigue twinkling in his eyes. "And what is it you can offer me?"

"I..." Truthfully, there was nothing you could offer which would be beneficial to someone like him who had everything at the tips of his fingers. You were but a speck of dust in his world, merely floating and remaining unseen within his view. But even so, here you kneeled before him, his gaze wholly fixated on a speck of dust such as yourself. If nothing else, you at least had your desperation — a desperation to be your own person. "My lineage may be from that of a baron's, but I am confident I can be of use to you if you would permit it. So long as you accept my offer, I will do anything to aid you, whether that be through practical means or a performance you wish to see."

A beat of silence.

"Ha... haha... ahahaha!!"

And, as if things couldn't get any worse than a sore rear and disgruntled self, you were pulled out of your daze by a pair of gleaming carmine eyes, a maniacal grin, and his body, now kneeled just like you were, so very close to your own.

"That determination... how brilliantly you burn with such an expression!" The sheer glee which bled through his tone sent shivers down your spine, having never realised someone so esteemed had such a side to him. The duke breathed a breathy laugh and slightly backed up, his hands still holding your arms. "Alright, I look forward to seeing how brightly you will shine in your performance, my dear leading actor."

...Was it too late to back out and find an alternative solution?

Admittedly so, for the next thing you knew vows were declared and you were moved into the duke's residence. You could still remember your family's aghast expressions the moment you declared you were marrying Duke Reca and thus cutting ties with them. It was oddly freeing to see their contorted faces reveal their true nature.

Life as the duke's spouse was... something, to say the least. His servants and attendants almost seemed to have shed tears of joy at the revelation of their ever so lonely duke (their words, not yours) finally settling down and getting married, asking you questions such as how you both met, what drew you to their duke, who popped the question first, why you chose him of all people, so on so forth. It was... cosy. Something you admittedly weren't very accustomed to, but found yourself welcoming nonetheless.

One thing you never expected was for the duke to have a little pet of his own; a little toad dressed in a miniature beret and matching suit, at that. Assistant Director is what Reca had called her, and you think for someone so obsessed with the arts he ought to up his naming sense. She was also quite susceptible to compliments, something you discovered when commenting on the little toad's cute attire, with the duke's baffling translation of her bashfulness and her own compliment on your own looks. Apparently. You're not really sure, but you're inclined to believe it ever since she claimed a spot on your shoulder.

As the days-turned-weeks-turned-months bled into each other, you found yourself oddly lost at how well-adapted you have become of your new life and the duke's personality. From impromptu displays of affection both in and outside the manor to sporadic radio silence on his end when wholly consumed by his fervent passion for a project, you sometimes wonder just how you're still alive with the amount of heart attacks the man has given you.

But despite his... eccentricities, to put it lightly, there are times where you can't quite put a finger on certain expressions he would make when he thinks you're not looking. They're unlike his (once again, to put it very lightly) passionate eyes when rambling to you during mealtimes about an upcoming performance the troupe has; unlike the sheer mania he can exude when something truly sparks his inspiration; unlike the playfully smug grin he would give you when swooping down in dramatic flair to press a long kiss to the back of your palm; unlike the rare darkening of his expression that you cannot help but stiffen at when something or someone in the troupe doesn't quite match his expectations.

No. These ones are... soft. A kind of tenderness and unprecedented longing able to be identified if scrutinised close enough. It was evident in the ghost-like touches he would trail along your skin, as though afraid just a little more force would do irreparable damage. It was evident in the attention to even the most minute details, having everything from clothing to food to the decor suited to preferences you yourself never realised you had. It was evident in the way unadulterated fondness leaked through his tone when his unique terms of affection for you slipped through his lips when all was silent and you were supposed to be asleep.

"My dearest star..."

...Much like now, it would seem.

The bed dips by where your knees slightly bend, hidden under the beige covers. A familiar musky scent surrounds you not long after, and you find yourself involuntarily relaxing at the comfort it brings as your head further burrows into the pillow.

You want to stay awake, even if it's just for a second longer, to hear what he has to say to your less than conscious state. But, oh, his fingers threading through your hair and softly massaging your scalp and the gentle touch of his forehead against yours and the subtle comforting warmth that rolls off his body in waves does little to help you fight the sleep which easily takes over.

Oh, whatever! You'll just try and catch what he has to say next time.

Eventually your breathing evens out, only soft snores now heard within the large shared bedroom. Upon noticing this, Reca cannot stop the fond smile which lifts the corners of his lips, nor can he prevent the softening of his eyes as he continues to gaze at your sleeping form.

"My dearest [Name]," he whispers into the dead of night. Even now, several months later, he still cannot believe his luck to have run into you in that alleyway. It must have been fate which made him heed its call, urging him he would discover something sure to escape that terrible slump plaguing him for weeks on end.

Sure enough, it brought him to something irreplaceable; something he has been searching desperately for.

You.

And, with the tenderest of kisses pressed to your forehead that would put even the most sickening romantics to shame, he murmurs words of promise against your skin, an oath he swears to uphold no matter the obstacles which stand before him.

"In this life, I will ensure you have only the best of endings."

if you enjoyed this, reblogs and/or comments are greatly appreciated <33

[thegreenlynx]

Girlfriend Stealer

Description: Your company pairs you with one of your boyfriend’s band mates for a collab, specifically a dance performance and your boyfriend is not pleased.

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader

Genre: Slight Angst, Hurt/Comfort, idol au, fluff

Content Warnings: Idol Fem!reader insert, Jealousy, boobs, brief mentions of marriage, insecurities

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Ahahaha...ha...

Life as an idol was naturally chaotic. You had grown used to that chaos; the unpredictability, the strict schedules, the lack of time off, missing milestones with your loved ones, having to be careful of everything you do, and having your privacy invaded on multiple occasions. Despite this, somehow you'd managed to keep it together and had even made quite the name for yourself as a dancer and singer. And to make it even better, you've landed yourself a very loving and sweet boyfriend. One you wouldn't trade for the world. 

Lee Minho is an angel, most of the time. He cooks for you, comforts you when you are sad, treats your cats like his own, he's funny, and he even makes sure to always make time for you. No matter how busy his schedule gets he tries to find any opportunity he can to see you, and when he can't? Well then he's sending you cute selfies and voice notes, and even calling you before bed.

Your relationship is very healthy, in a way unlike anything you ever could of hoped for. Your past relationships had done little to prepare you for the sense of security and genuine affection you felt with him. It felt as though you were genuinely made for each other, as cliché as that may sound. 

However, Minho had one troubling flaw. One flaw that many would have been deterred by, yet for some reason it had never been enough to keep you from him. The flaw was that Minho was extremely possessive. Almost alarmingly so.

He hates it when anyone even looks at what's his for too long. And if someone's touching it? You can practically see the steam fuming out his ears as he glares daggers into whomever has committed the heinous act of disrespect(In his eyes at least). 

That is why it is almost laughable, the situation you've found yourself in now. And never in 100 years would you have seen it coming. 

Both you and your boyfriend's companies had decided they wanted you to do a collab stage. Which sounds wonderful and exciting at first mention. The catch? You aren't collaborating with your sweet bunny-like boyfriend, but instead his perfectly sculpted bandmate Hwang Hyunjin.

You weren't really sure how to react to that really. After all it is an extraordinary opportunity, but on the other hand you know Minho. Truthfully you were hesitant to even tell him. He never takes these things well. It's bad enough when it is a stranger but one of his best friends? He might actually lose his mind. And as much as you'd like to hope he would just trust you and Hyunjin enough to let it go and be happy for the two of you, you know he won't.

Because to him it's not about trust. He can trust the both of you more than anyone else, with his own life even. It won't matter because what he's worried about isn't you cheating. It's that you'll realize you are out of his league and go for someone more on your level, or that you'll simply lose interest and leave him. He knows very well how fickle people's feelings can be. He also believes he loves you far more than you could ever love him. The idea of you leaving him isn't particularly out there to him. There is nothing in the world that terrifies him more than the idea of losing you. 

Additionally there is the matter that he may be a bit obsessive. If it were up to him no one would ever get your attention but him and he would probably bury himself in it, if only he could. He thrives in your affection and withers when it's gone too long. He makes a prominent effort to be the only one you ever look at, the only one you'd ever want. 

But that doesn't bother you. You like that he wants you enough to keep working to keep you even when he already has you, and even use it as motivation to try and treat him the same way. 

This is shown in the way you love him. The gifts you get him, the tiny acts of service, the cuddles even when you're in a bad mood and would normally want to be left alone, the hours you sit and listen to him rant about everything because you know he doesn't really do that with anyone else.

In this situation however, you aren't really sure what to do. It's never really been a problem before. Typically if someone were hitting on you or a friend was getting too close you'd just put some distance or leave with Minho. You normally avoid doing anything that might upset him, and it doesn't bother you in the slightest. You're an introvert anyway so it's not a problem if you only have a few friends and don't go out much without him. You still have your own hobbies, your own lives, it's fine. 

Even when the company has made you do things before, it's been easy to reassure Minho. He gets jealous and sulky for a bit and then you cuddle him and remind him he's the only one you want and everything's fine. What do you do when it's his friend though? You can't really say 'It's just a job' or 'I'll never see him outside of work'. Neither of those would be true and it's not going to make him feel better anyway. 

Because this is Hyunjin. Sweet, kind, sensitive, beautiful Hyunjin. One of his best friends Hyunjin. Hyunjin the damn near perfect model. Hyunjin the excellent dancer. Hyunjin the member the company picked over Minho. 

In the end, after contemplating for a few hours what exactly would be the least problematic way of telling him, you decide to just spit it out. Which ultimately leads to your boyfriend inviting himself to your practice. Which can only go well, naturally.

It hasn't even been five minutes and you can already feel your angry boyfriend's glaring eyes drilling holes into not only Hyunjin but you as well. You don't let it shake you, you need to get this dance down so you can go home and make him feel better. You can only imagine the way his insecure mind is spiraling, completely absurd and unrealistic thoughts taking over his normally rational and understanding way of thinking. The faster you finish this the less pain he will be in. So for now you need to ignore him. For both your sakes you try to pretend he's not even there.

Hyunjin on the other hand seems to be having a harder time of it. The typically near flawless dancer seems anxious, keeps glancing towards the couch your boyfriend is tensely lounging on, and he keeps making the same mistakes over and over again. No matter how many minutes go by of practicing the same part, no matter how many times you try and direct him, it's obvious his mind is elsewhere and his performance is suffering. 

The longer it goes on the more you feel yourself grow frustrated. Your fuse has gotten short, and the typically soft and kind tone you use with the taller man has reduced to a more biting one. You've managed to get about half way through the song, arriving at a more sensual part when you finally snap. Hyunjin refuses to actually get close enough to you for it to even be mistaken as the correct choreo and it's driving you nuts. You want to go home.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" You turn towards your dance partner in obvious annoyance, running a hand through your long hair. 

He blushes a bashful red and quietly responds. "I'm sorry, it's just hard to dance with Minho glaring at me through the mirror. I can't focus and it's honestly kind of terrifying..." He trails off and nervously glances at the mirror before looking at the floor in defeat. 

You sigh and turn to the boyfriend you haven't looked at in nearly an hour. He doesn't look back at you. Sporting the most murderous look you have ever seen such a delicate pretty face make, he simply glares at Hyunjin's figure. 

Feeling a mixture of irritation and guilt you turn away from both of them and tug at your hair in frustration, a joyless laugh falling past your lips. 

"I'm sorry, I'll try to focus..." You hear Hyunjin's pitiful whisper behind you, the poor guy didn't even do anything to be put in this position yet here you all are. You ignore him in favor of turning back towards Minho, marching towards him with determined strides. 

When you finally reach him he makes no effort to look at you and only squeezes his hands into fists at his sides. However you aren't really in the mood, so you rest both hands on either side of his head and shift your body into his line of sight. You let out a small portion of your built up aggression in allowing your hands to grip the black leather of the couch while your eyes narrow at the man below you. 

He finally looks up at you, an almost comical mixture of angry tiger and kicked kitten. His brows are furrowed and his cheeks are reddened in frustration, the tension in his muscles prominent from his rather impressive amount of self control(for him, at least). Yet his eyes twinkle up at you miserably, longingly. And it's heartbreaking really. How his lips tremble slightly and his eyes waver shakily under your gaze. He's doing a good job of hiding it, but you can see through it. He's not just angry; he's fucking terrified. And he's hurting, and that hurts you. 

"What are you even jealous about? It's just Hyunjin." Despite your prominent glare, you manage to keep your voice soft and even. You know it's not his fault. You know he's trying to keep it together, trying so hard to just sit there and be good for you. But you can see how he wants to cry, and maybe even walk over and punch Hyunjin right in the face. For good measure.

He clicks his tongue and looks away from you momentarily. He goes to speak before opting to instead whine and kick his feet in anger. You feel bad for finding him cute in this moment. But the truth is, he always is. "Yeah, it's Hyunjin. I'd be mad about anyone but me getting to touch you, let alone Mr. Top-Model girlfriend stealer over there."  He shoots another glare Hyunjin's way and you hear the other male gasp offended in response.

"Hey-!" He tries to chime in, in an attempt to defend himself against the allegation. However, you interrupt him like he's not even there so as to not allow him to unintentionally provoke your boyfriend any further. You grab Minho's chin gently with your right hand to tilt his head to look back up at you.

"You have nothing to worry about. I picked you, not Hyunjin. And I will continue to pick you and only you for the rest of my life. I understand that you're upset, I would be too. I don't like this any more than you do, but we don't have a choice."

He just huffs and rolls his eyes at you, dipping his head slightly to glare back at Hyunjin through the mirror once more. "I could just break his legs, then he wouldn't be able to dance with you at all." You laugh and roll your eyes right back at him. 

"I'm not asking you to be happy about it. But if you behave and stop trying to kill Hyunjin with your eyes at least till the end of practice so we can get this over with, I promise I'll make it up to you later." You take a firmer grip of his chin to get his attention back on you, nails digging slightly into his skin to prevent him from moving as you tilt his head up again. 

He only stares defiantly back up at you, not convinced. So you lean down and kiss him softly, continuing in a whisper Hyunjin won't hear. "Just be good and I'll make it all worth it. You know I'll only ever belong to you. Get out of your head. You've got demons up there and they're liars, they only make you sad and nothing they say is ever true."

"...fine..." It comes out in a barely audible breath whilst he deflates at your words, seeming to have all of the energy left in him drained as he slumps into the couch in defeat.

And he stays true to his word, with great difficulty he manages to be good the rest of practice. He does this by laying face down into the sofa and periodically thrashing around in anger with a bizarre sound muffled into the cushions, but he isn't glaring at Hyunjin anymore and that is Minho being on his best behavior in your book. 

Because of this you are able to get the dance down fairly swiftly, with Hyunjin no longer distracted he's quick to pick up on the choreo and your chemistry is surprisingly good. You know it'll make a great performance, you also know that will royally piss Minho off. A problem for another day, however.

As soon as you and Hyunjin have got the dance down, you dart straight to your throw blanket-impersonating lover. You don't even wait for him to stand before you're dragging him off the couch by his hand. He scrambles to catch up to your pace without faceplanting, barely succeeds, and shuffle runs behind you as you speed walk towards the exit and then to your car.

You don't say anything during the walk, just tighten your hold on Minho's hand. He doesn't either, seemingly happy just to have you back for now. But, you can tell he's still a bit anxious. Perhaps he's worried you are mad at him now, or that you're just dragging him around so you can break his heart in private. In truth it's hard to predict where his mind will go in these situations. Which is exactly why you want to get home as soon as possible. So that it's less time where his demons can eat him alive. But you desperately need a shower, and you don't want to try to comfort him in the middle of a parking lot.

So waiting until you're home it is! The car ride is quiet too; you spend the whole car ride trying to think of what to say or do to make your boyfriend feel better, remind him that in your eyes there's only him and that you couldn't be happier with anyone else. He spends the entire car ride anxiously playing with your hand and glancing periodically at your face, a wounded expression taking over his own. Which goes entirely unnoticed by you, too busy trying to find a way to fix this to realize he just wants you to look at him. But he won't say anything until you do, too afraid of somehow saying the wrong thing or making it worse. Too afraid the demons are actually right. 

Thankfully the ride is fairly short, and you quickly get out of the car and open his door for him. Taking his hand gently into your own and guiding him to the front door of your house, kicking off your shoes and barely waiting for him to take his off before you continue dragging him. This time towards your bedroom, and with far more care than in the practice room. 

When you arrive in your room you softly push him to sit on the bed, which he happily flops onto with no resistance. "I need to shower quick, wait for me?" You press a soft kiss to his head as he nods, eager to be good for you. He makes himself comfy and watches you walk away with sparkles in his eyes, a stark contrast to the scowl he'd displayed earlier in the day. You can't help but smile in response, grabbing a change of clothes and heading to the bathroom. 

Your shower is quick, not wanting to leave him waiting too long. But, even so by the time you get back he's sulking again. Anxious hands playing with the blanket he's staring intensely at. You can almost see the gears turning rapidly in his head and have to bite back a sigh, wondering if there is some way you could have handled this better. Some way he wouldn't have had to spend so long doubting himself and fighting his demons all alone. You had never done that before, always had been so quick to try to alleviate any pain he had. But for some reason this time, while you had thought about it many times, you didn't really do a lot to make him feel better. Nothing that seemed to work anyway, every attempt you made didn't seem to come across right to him. 

It makes him wonder why this time had to be different, why you couldn't just comfort him the way you always had before. All he needed was a bit of affection, some reassuring words to know you really were his and you weren't going anywhere. That you really meant it and weren't just saying things in the practice room to get him to stop being a brat. Was it because it was your job? Because you were frustrated? Because of something Minho had done? Because of... Hyunjin? The last two didn't really make any sense though, but that never actually made a difference in his head.

It is only now that you really realize that you've both been running in circles. With you trying to be faster in order to get alone time with him, to comfort him. Only to end up hurting him more by ignoring him in the moments he needed you, even if your intentions were good. You had just wanted it to be over so you could give him your undivided attention, you didn't want anything to get in the way. 

And he kept trying to be good for you. Even when it was hard and he didn't succeed much, he tried to keep his thoughts and feelings to himself to not ruin this for you. To not make you hate him or resent him, or give you any reasons to fall out of love or leave him. He was trying so hard, being so careful. Being so patient. He wanted so desperately to be the best for you, to be worthy of your love and be the only one you wanted. Even while his head was tumbling into the darkest places and his heart felt like it had been wrapped in chains. Someone pulling them tighter every moment Hyunjin touched you, every moment you didn't look at him while he prayed and pleaded you would. 

He didn't voice his thoughts in fear of upsetting you, or putting you off. But they had been eating him alive the entire time. To the point where no matter how many times he'd told himself you loved him and wouldn't leave him he still felt like you were going to. That that was the only explanation for you pawning it off this long. For a moment when you'd gotten to the room he had finally started to feel better, the brief moments he had your attention felt like sunshine in his raging storm. When you went to shower he had wanted to be positive, to just wait patiently for your return, just be happy he'd gotten a kiss. But the second you left, his head went right back to the storm and you'd taken any comfort or solace to the bathroom with you. 

You didn't actually need a shower, you just wanted to get away from him. Maybe you were avoiding him so you didn't have to tell him you would rather be with Hyunjin. He'd probably treat you better anyway, wouldn't be nearly so pathetic and insecure. He tries to shut his thoughts off, but instead a tear falls and you rush over and pull him into your chest. Now he just feels stupid for crying in front of you like a child. 

And so he tries to pull away and wipe his tears, make some stupid excuse about a hair in his eye. You don't let him, pulling away first and laying down beside him. Before he can even hope to speak, he's pulled down on top of you. Head resting in his favorite spot, right between your breasts. He chokes down a sob as you card your fingers through his hair, a sigh escaping his lips when his body finally relaxes. 

You take this opportunity to speak. "I'm so sorry"

"...For what?" It's muffled by your shirt, and you feel him nuzzle further against your chest. Likely in embarrassment. 

"I've done this all wrong. I thought it'd be better for you if we just hurried home but I didn't realize you'd take it the way you obviously have and I feel terrible. I am not leaving you. I would never leave you. I want to marry you one day. I don't want Hyunjin. I love you, only you. I really just wanted to shower so I wouldn't stink when we cuddled. I didn't look at you in the car because I was so focused on getting home. I wanted to wait till we were home to talk. I wanted to give you my undivided attention. I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry." You kiss the top of his head between each of your sentences, hoping to be louder than the voices. Hoping to drown out any negative thoughts he could be having. 

"Oh..." He breaths, finally lifting his head to meet your eyes after a few seconds of processing your words. "M'sorry too. You shouldn't have to worry about reassuring me so much. I should be more confident, I just don't want to lose you." He sighs and plays with a strand of your hair, twirling it between his fingers. "Can we just cuddle?"

"Of course." You smile happily, glad he seems to be genuinely feeling better now that you have given him the proper reassurance he deserves, rather than some rushed words in the middle of a practice room. 

"You did great with the dance by the way..." He says bashfully as he nuzzles into your neck, tossing a leg over your own. 

"You actually saw that with your face in the cushions?" You look down at his red ears and pinch one softly between two fingers. 

He squeezes your hip in retaliation. "Meant before that. When Hyunjin was fumbling like a goon. All I could think is 'why the hell didn't they pick me?' You looked so perfect..."

"Thank you, I wish it had been. Hyunjin's great, but you're the only dancer for me." You reply in an attempt to flirt, accompanied by a playful boop to his nose.

"'Only dancer'? I am the only one for you. Period." He glares at you, pressing himself up on both arms to look down at your face. 

You laugh, looking up at the man now basically straddling your lap. "You're right, my bad. You're the only one for me, period." You lean up to kiss him fully this time, and he seems to lose himself in the kiss before pulling away a minute later, a sweet blissful smile on his face that could instantly brighten any room.

"Don't think I forgot that comment you made, by the way. I will be marrying you. I love you future Mrs. Lee Minho." He doesn't even let you reply before he's diving in for another kiss, a flurry of them really. He litters your face in the sweetest of kisses, ending it with one final passionate kiss on the lips. It only breaks when you laugh.

"Do I get a say in the matter?" 

"No." It's a firm response, and he seems to try to convince you further by leaning in to kiss you once more. This time slow, with the slightest tease of tongue, before he bites your lip and pulls back. Still straddling your legs, his ears suddenly flush again. "...You're gonna say yes though, right...?" You laugh at the drastic change in his attitude, but you love him no matter what.

"There's no other answer, of course I will Mr. Future Husband."

[jungkoode]

THE 25TH HOUR | O7

“𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐒”

"The most annoying thing about Agent Min isn’t how easily he dodges your questions—it’s how effortlessly he outmatches your wit."

next | index

— chapter details

word count: 7,4k

content: field trips, noma being curious as usual, yoongi being half amused half exasperated, yoongi being a smart lil shit and evading her questions, her growing frustrated, forced proximity, eery memorials and visceral reactions.

— author’s note

Hiii peeps!!!

It’s been a long time coming huh??? FINALLY chapter 7 reached the goals yesterday!!! *cue the confetti that i absolutely do not have the energy to throw*

I’ve been writing this chapter for what feels like an eternity (literally aged 10 years minimum) but I just finished the last scene today and edited and proofread it just now soooo I hope everything’s okay??? If you see a typo… no you didn’t (ಥ﹏ಥ).

Not gonna lie to you, I had to reread chapter 6 because I straight up forgot whether I had tasked Yoongi and Noma to the Monitoring Hub or if that was someone else ahahaha—spoiler alert: it was Tae and Jungkook who got stuck with that chore, not Yoongi and Y/N. Slay for us!

Then I reread some of my notes and remembered some plotlines I had emotionally suppressed and well… the last scene about the park basically wrote itself. Yeah. It’s eery. Prepare yourselves.

There’s SO much to unpack from this fic and SO little we have even scratched the surface of. I know The 25th Hour is my most head-wrecking fanfic so PLEASE, feel free to vomit ALL of your theories at me hahaha. I’m here for the chaos.

As always—remember my fics are sloooooow paced and sloooooow burn because my brain doesn’t know how to operate differently. Don’t expect fast plot movement, I’m intentionally taking my time to build the world and lay tiny breadcrumbs for you to gather. Pick them up. Put them in your emotional basket. Analyze them to your heart’s content.

Enjoy, goblins! <3

— read on

ao3

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The streets feel fundamentally wrong.  

It's not something you can quantify, not yet. The temperature is stable, the air quality within acceptable parameters, and the ambient noise levels hover at a predictable 67 decibels. 

But still, something feels… off.  

Sector 4 has always been bustling, it is a fact you do not question. 

Coffee shops line the sidewalks—windows are fogged with steam and promises of overpriced caffeine. Restaurants have flickering neon signs in rhythmic patterns that seem to draw people in inevitably. Storefronts display fashion statements that you’ve never found appealing but still manage to catch your eye every time you pass them.  

You do like fashion—at least, theoretically. 

You’ve never bought anything from these stores, though. 

Agent Min walks ahead of you now, stride measured as always. You recalibrate your position almost immediately, adjusting your pace to walk beside him instead of behind. 

Not behind him. Never behind him.  

You don’t know why it matters so much, but it does. To you, at least. Or maybe to whatever part of you keeps acting out without conscious thought lately.  

Your eyes betray you again, flickering to his gloved hand for the fifth time in the last fifteen minutes. Covered, as always. Black leather stretched taut over fingers that move very precisely—cataloging, calculating, anticipating.  

You’re still stuck on his earlier words: “Protection from me.”

What did he mean by that? Is his touch scalding? Dangerous? 

You haven’t seen him touch anyone else without those gloves—not once since arriving at the facility. It’s plausible enough to form a hypothesis around it, but not enough to test it without risking another nosebleed—or worse.  

Still… you want to test it anyway.  

And then there’s the matter of your own gloves—thin fabric ones that feel more like a restriction than protection. 

Nobody else wears them except Yoongi. Just him and you. You and him.  

Why? Why? Why? Why?  

The question loops through your mind like a broken record, each repetition louder than the last until it feels like static buzzing beneath your skin. 

You want to ask him outright, even though you know it will get you nowhere.  

But still… you want to ask.

“Why gloves?”  

The words slip out before your analytical mind can filter them properly—an impulsive breach of protocol that surprises even you.  

Yoongi sighs—a sound weighted with irritation but tempered by something softer beneath—and doesn’t respond immediately. His gaze flickers around the street instead, cataloging details invisible to your untrained eye.

“Stop staring at my hand,” he says finally, voice low enough that only you can hear over the ambient noise of Sector 4’s busiest avenue.

“I wasn’t staring at your hand,” you counter, the denial emerging with suspicious automaticity.

And technically, it’s not a lie. 

Your focus was on the glove itself—the material composition, the precision fit, the way it moves with his fingers as if designed specifically for his unique biomechanics.

“My gloves cover my hands,” he points out, logic impeccable as always. “You looking at my glove is functionally equivalent to looking at my hand.”

Your analytical mind acknowledges the validity of his reasoning—the correlation between glove and hand approaches 99.7% in this context.

“Stop trying to be clever,” he adds, the corner of his mouth twitching upward by approximately 0.3 millimeters—a microexpression your body recognizes as amusement despite your mind having no reference point for it.

“I’m not trying to be clever,” you respond, your tone matching his. “Fabric is not skin. I was technically not observing your hand but rather the material covering it.”

His eyes narrow by exactly 1.2 millimeters. “You’re doing it right now.”

“Doing what?”

“Attempting to establish semantic superiority through technical correctness.”

“I am not.”

“You are. Stop it.”

Your lips press together, suppressing what feels suspiciously like a smile. Your gaze shifts to his profile, noting the controlled tension in his jaw, the rhythm of his breathing.

“Why?” The question emerges softer than intended.

He turns, eyes meeting yours with unsettling directness. 

The contact lasts 2.7 seconds—42% longer than standard conversational eye contact.

“Because,” his eyes flicker gold for precisely 0.3 seconds, “being intellectual antagonists with each other is essentially our foreplay.”

Your Chrono-Sync Watch beeps softly: Temporal variance: 1.37%.

“That would imply sexual attraction.”

“Yes, it would.”

“Are you sexually attracted to me?”

He doesn’t respond. 

You weren’t expecting him to.

Doesn’t make it less annoying.

But curiosity nags at you as your eyes flicker down to his gloves. And before you can process your next question, you’re already voicing it out.

"Can I hold your hand?"

Agent Min halts mid-step, his shoulders stiffening by precisely 0.6 centimeters. The sigh that follows is audible, weighted with the kind of exasperation that suggests this isn't the first time he's had to deal with you derailing his focus. 

"Not this again," he mutters, his voice carrying the same energy as someone who just realized they forgot to defrost the chicken for dinner.

You blink up at him, unbothered by the irritation radiating off of him in waves. 

“What? I’m serious."

He turns his head slowly, mint-green hair catching the sunlight in a way that seems almost too vibrant for someone with such a perpetually dark aura. His eyes narrow slightly—not in anger, but in that uniquely way of his that suggests he's already regretting engaging with you.

"You want to hold my hand," he repeats flatly, as if saying it out loud might somehow make it sound less ridiculous.

"Yes." You nod once, decisively. "Without the gloves."

His jaw tightens by 3 degrees, and for a moment, you think he might ignore you entirely. But then he exhales sharply through his nose—an audible punctuation mark to his mounting frustration—and tilts his head just enough to meet your gaze.

"Why?" he asks, voice low and measured, like he's trying to reason with a particularly stubborn child.

You pause, considering the question. 

Why do you want to hold his hand? 

It’s not like you’ve ever been particularly interested in physical contact before. In fact, you generally find it inefficient and unnecessary—an outdated social construct with no practical application in most scenarios.

But this feels... different. Important. Like there’s some unquantifiable variable at play that your analytical mind can’t quite grasp.

"I don’t know," you admit finally, your tone carrying the same blunt honesty that has gotten you into trouble more times than you can count. "I just do."

Yoongi closes his eyes briefly—1.2 seconds exactly—before pinching the bridge of his nose through the fabric of his glove. 

“You can’t just go around asking people if you can hold their hands."

"Why not?" Your brow furrows as you process his response. "Is it against protocol?"

"It’s not about protocol," he says, dropping his hand back to his side with a resigned sigh. "It’s about basic social norms."

"Social norms are arbitrary constructs," you argue, crossing your arms over your chest. "If I want to hold your hand and you don’t explicitly object, then what’s the issue?"

"The issue," he says slowly, as if explaining quantum mechanics to a toddler, "is that most people don’t ask questions like that because they understand how it might make someone else feel."

You tilt your head slightly, analyzing his expression for any sign of genuine discomfort. His face remains impassive—calm but guarded, like he’s carefully controlling every microexpression to avoid giving anything away.

"I don’t see how it would make you feel anything," you say finally, your tone more curious than defensive. "It’s just skin-to-skin contact. Statistically insignificant unless there’s some kind of chemical reaction involved."

Yoongi stares at you for a long moment—4.7 seconds exactly—before shaking his head slightly and muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like why me?

"You’re impossible," he says finally, turning away from you and resuming his perfectly measured stride down the street.

You fall into step beside him without hesitation, adjusting your pace to match his once again. 

“You didn’t answer my question," you point out after exactly 3 seconds of silence.

"I thought I did," he replies dryly.

"No," you counter, your tone taking on that annoyingly persistent edge that you realize seems to get under his skin. "You explained why most people wouldn’t ask to hold someone’s hand. You didn’t explain why I shouldn’t ask."

He exhales sharply again—louder this time—and glances at you out of the corner of his eye. His gaze flickers briefly to your gloved hands before returning to the path ahead.

"Because it’s not normal," he says finally.

"Neither is wearing gloves all the time," you shoot back without missing a beat.

His lips twitch upward for 0.2 seconds before flattening again—a microexpression so fleeting that most people wouldn’t have noticed it. 

But you do.

"Fair," he mutters under his breath.

You take this as a victory and press on. "So? Can I?"

"No." 

"But why?" Your voice edges into what could almost be described as a whine—not because you’re upset, but because you genuinely don’t understand why he’s being so difficult about something so seemingly insignificant.

Yoongi stops abruptly again—his second unplanned halt in less than five minutes—and turns to face you fully this time. His eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your pulse spike by 8 beats per minute.

"Because," he says slowly, enunciating each syllable like it physically pains him to explain this to you, "if I let you hold my hand without gloves, it won’t stop there."

You blink, processing his words. 

"What do you mean it won't stop there?" 

Your head tilts exactly 4.3 degrees to the right—a physical manifestation of your curiosity. Yoongi's jaw tightens, the muscle visibly tensing beneath his skin. 

"Just drop it."

"Is it just the hands?" you press, undeterred by his obvious discomfort. "Or would any skin contact cause this... whatever it is you're concerned about?"

"Any skin contact," he answers flatly.

You process this new variable. "So if I touch any part of your skin, the reaction would be the same?"

"Yes." 

His response is clipped, precise—clearly hoping brevity will discourage further inquiry.

It doesn't.

"Is that why we're both covered head to toe? To prevent skin contact?" 

The question emerges as you glance down at your own tactical gear, noting how thoroughly it encases your body.

"Yes."

"But not our faces," you point out, studying the exposed skin of his cheeks, his jaw, his forehead. "Our faces remain uncovered."

He exhales, the sound carrying precisely 23% more frustration than his previous sigh. 

"Covering our faces would make us suspicious to CHRONOS agents. We need to blend in."

Your analysis immediately detects the logical inconsistency. 

“Your resistance movement seems quite popular among CHRONOS employees. I've counted at least 27 defectors in your facility."

"Mhm."

"How come agents don't recognize you then?" The question presents itself naturally as you catalog variables. "Wouldn't they have put a face to your name by now? Especially given your apparent leadership position?"

"Part of my ability."

Your temporal readings spike by 0.12% at the mention of his ability. You've been collecting fragments of information since arriving, piecing together a picture of what each team member can do. But Yoongi's ability remains the most significant unknown variable.

"What's your ability?" You ask directly, knowing the probability of receiving a straightforward answer approaches zero.

Indeed, his lips quirk upward—0.3 millimeters, right side only. 

"Guess."

You narrow your eyes, cataloging the available data:

- His ability relates to temporal manipulation

- It affects perception

- It involves skin contact

- It has restoration properties, as demonstrated with your glove

"Time manipulation," you venture, knowing it's insufficient but hoping to prompt elaboration.

"Not specific enough." 

"Temporal reconstruction?" You recalibrate, adding the restoration variable.

He makes that sound again—the one that's almost amusement but contains too much restraint. 

“Closer."

Your analytical mind sorts through theoretical temporal abilities, discarding those incompatible with observed phenomena. 

“Chronological restoration with perceptual manipulation components."

His eyebrow raises by exactly 0.4 centimeters. "Sometimes I forget how unnecessarily technical you can be."

"Is that accurate?" you press.

"Parts of it." 

His attention shifts to the street ahead, where the monitoring hub should be visible. But it isn't. Not where your memory insists it should be.

You follow his gaze, temporal cognition struggling to reconcile the discrepancy. 

"The hub is missing."

"No," he corrects, "it's been moved. Remember?"

The correction creates a curious double-vision effect in your cognitive processing—you simultaneously remember the hub at its original location AND at its new position three blocks east.

Your nose starts bleeding.

Agent Min doesn't even look—simply extends the black handkerchief towards your nose. 

"Stop trying to hold both memories at once," he instructs, voice dropping to 42 decibels. "Accept the new one as current reality while maintaining awareness that it's been altered."

"That's contradictory," you argue, pressing the handkerchief to your nose.

"Not to your brain, it isn't." His eyes never leave the street ahead, yet you sense his focus remains partially on you. "Your temporal signature allows you to perceive both timelines simultaneously. The cognitive dissonance is what causes the bleeding."

"How do you know so much about my temporal signature?" The question emerges with sudden intensity.

His jaw tightens. "Focus on the mission."

"Answer the question."

"No."

Your frustration spikes by approximately 37%. 

“You know significantly more about my physiological responses than should be possible given our limited interaction history."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Classified."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes—a social gesture you've never found particularly productive. 

“That's not an answer."

"It's all you're getting right now." His tone shifts, carrying a finality that suggests further inquiry would be pointless.

Your gaze returns to the street, where two distinct sets of memories continue to overlap in your perception. The monitoring hub that should be directly ahead isn't there. Instead, an upscale coffee shop occupies the space, patrons moving in and out with the synchronized efficiency of people who have no idea reality has been restructured around them.

"They don't notice," you murmur, observing the civilians. "They genuinely believe that coffee shop has always been there."

"Yes." Agent Min's confirmation is unnecessary but appreciated. "For them, reality is singular and consistent. No contradictions."

"And for us?"

His eyes meet yours briefly. "For Outliers, reality is... negotiable."

“Outliers. That’s me now, too.”

"Yes. People whose temporal signatures resist CHRONOS manipulation," he elaborates, voice dropping lower. "People who remember when reality changes. People who can see through the illusion."

"Like right now," you note, focusing on the coffee shop while maintaining awareness of the monitoring hub that should occupy its space. "I can hold both versions simultaneously."

"Exactly." For once, he doesn't sound annoyed by your analysis. "That's what makes you valuable. And dangerous."

Your Chrono-Sync Watch beeps softly: Temporal variance: 1.42%.

Agent Min's eyes flick to your wrist. "We need to stabilize you before continuing. Your variance is climbing."

"I'm fine," you counter, though the persistent throbbing behind your eyes suggests otherwise.

"You're not." His contradiction carries no room for debate. "Find somewhere quiet. Now."

You scan the area, identifying a narrow alley between buildings approximately 34 meters ahead. 

“There."

He follows your gaze and nods once, already adjusting his trajectory. His stride lengthens by precisely 0.07 meters—not enough for casual observation to detect, but you note the change immediately.

The alley provides 68% reduction in ambient noise and 74% decrease in visual stimuli—optimal conditions for temporal stabilization according to the limited data you've gathered.

Agent Min positions himself at precisely 47 centimeters from you—close enough for what you now understand is temporal alignment, but far enough to maintain whatever invisible boundary he's established.

"Your variance is too high," he states, glancing at your watch. "We need to reduce it before continuing."

"How?" The question is direct, clinical—exactly how you intend it.

His expression shifts, eyes darkening by approximately 12%. "Proximity and synchronized breathing. It's slow but effective."

Your analytical mind immediately identifies the logical gap. 

"If proximity helps stabilize my temporal signature, then closer proximity should logically be more efficient. Physical contact would provide maximum efficiency."

His jaw tightens so suddenly you can almost hear the teeth grinding. 

"No."

"Why not? It's the most logical solution."

"Because I said so." 

The childish response seems deliberately designed to irritate you.

It works.

"That's not a scientifically valid reason," you counter, crossing your arms. "Is there another method besides proximity and breathing?"

"No." 

His response comes too quickly—0.37 seconds faster than his average response time. You narrow your eyes, analytical mind immediately flagging the statistical anomaly. 

"You're lying."

"I'm not lying," he counters, voice dropping to that dangerous octave that somehow makes your skin prickle despite the climate-controlled tactical gear. "I'm just not telling you the whole truth."

"That's the same thing."

"It's really not." His lips quirk upward in that infuriating half-smile. "One involves active deception. The other involves strategic omission."

"Strategic omission," you repeat, the term rolling off your tongue with obvious distaste. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

"We've always called it that. You just don't remember."

Your Chrono-Sync Watch beeps again: Temporal variance: 1.57%.

"Your variance is still climbing," he notes, voice shifting to something that might almost be concern if you didn't know better. "Focus on your breathing. Match mine."

You want to argue further, to push until he breaks and gives you the answers your analytical mind craves. But the pressure behind your eyes is intensifying, and your temporal readings are becoming increasingly unstable.

"Fine," you concede, though the word carries more edge than intended. "Breathing."

He inhales slowly—4 seconds in, 6 seconds out—establishing a rhythm that your body automatically begins to follow. 

The synchronization feels practiced, like muscle memory you shouldn't possess.

"Why do I know this pattern?" 

"Because your body remembers even when your mind doesn't."

"You keep saying that. It is not scientifically possible."

"Then why is it working?”

Your temporal variance begins to decrease—1.52%, 1.47%, 1.39%—the numbers falling in precise correlation with your synchronized breathing.

"Fascinating," you murmur, analytical mind already calculating the energy transfer mechanisms that might explain this phenomenon. "The temporal resonance between our signatures creates a stabilizing effect that—"

"Stop analyzing it," he interrupts, the command carrying a sharp edge. "The more you try to understand it, the worse your variance gets."

"That's counterintuitive."

"Welcome to temporal physics." His tone carries a dry humor that catches you off guard. "Where everything you think you know is wrong, and trying to figure out why makes your nose bleed."

Despite yourself, your lips twitch upward. 

Illogical. 

“That's an inefficient system."

"It's by design." His eyes never leave yours as he continues the breathing pattern. "CHRONOS doesn't want people understanding how reality actually works."

"And you do?"

A softening around the eyes that lasts precisely 0.7 seconds swallows his pupils before disappearing. 

"I want you to understand. Just not all at once."

The admission carries more weight than it should, creating a curious pressure in your chest that defies analytical categorization.

Your variance continues to decrease—1.31%, 1.24%, 1.18%—each number bringing you closer to stability.

"There's something you're not telling me," you state, the certainty absolute despite having no empirical evidence to support it.

His lips quirk upward—0.4 millimeters, right side only. 

"There are approximately 7,429 things I'm not telling you, A-735. You'll have to be more specific."

"About stabilization methods." Your eyes narrow, focusing on the micro-expressions that betray him. "There's another way, isn't there? Something more efficient than this."

His breathing pattern falters for exactly 0.3 seconds—a statistical anomaly that confirms your hypothesis.

"Yes," he admits finally, the word emerging with obvious reluctance.

"What is it?"

His jaw tightens, eyes darkening to that dangerous shade that makes your pulse accelerate by 7.2 beats per minute.

"Nothing you need to know right now."

"I disagree."

"Shocking."

The sarcasm in his tone is so thick you could practically measure its density. Strangely, it registers a progress in your head. 

"Is it dangerous?" 

“Not in the way you're thinking."

"Then why won't you tell me?"

He holds your gaze for exactly 3.7 seconds—42% longer than standard conversational eye contact. 

“Because once you know, you'll want to try it. And once you try it..." He pauses, something raw and unguarded flashing in his eyes. "Let's just say it complicates things."

"How?"

"Classified."

You exhale sharply through your nose, frustration spiking by approximately 43%. 

"You can't just classify everything you don't want to explain."

"Actually," he counters, that infuriating half-smile returning, "I can. It's one of the perks of being in charge."

"You're impossible."

"So I've been told." His eyes flicker to your watch. "1.03%. Almost stable."

Your variance continues to decrease—0.97%, 0.92%, 0.88%—each number bringing you closer to the standard range.

"We should continue the mission," you state once your readings stabilize at 0.84%.

He nods once, already turning toward the street. But before he can take a step, you catch his wrist—your gloved fingers wrapping around the tactical material covering his arm.

He freezes, entire body tensing like you've applied an electric shock.

"This isn't over," you state, voice low and precise. "I will figure it out."

His eyes meet yours, something dark and dangerous flickering in their depths. 

"I know you will. You always do."

The statement carries too much weight, too much history that you can't access. But before you can question it, he gently extracts his wrist from your grip and steps back onto the street.

You follow, sorting through the fragments of information, piecing together the puzzle that is Agent Min.

He's hiding something. Something important. Something about you, about him, about whatever connection exists between you that defies logical explanation.

And you're definitely going to figure out what it is.

You’ve been walking for exactly twenty-three minutes.

And Agent Min has looked at you ten times in the past five.

Each glance is quick—measured flickers of attention, like he’s trying to calculate something without setting off an alarm.

You count them anyway. You always count things when you don’t know what they mean.

The silence stretches between you, and it’s thick; clinging really. You expected him to appreciate it—your restraint, your control, your refusal to ask questions he won’t answer.

But instead, he’s growing restless.

Another glance. Quick. Sharp.

You stop walking.

He takes two more steps before realizing you aren’t following, turning around with a tilt of his head that would seem casual if it weren’t so obviously deliberate.

You cross your arms. Narrow your eyes. Catalog the slight shift in his posture.

“What.”

It comes out flat. Demanding.

He exhales—short, controlled, dismissive.

“Nothing.”

You frown, recalculating. “Then stop looking at me.”

He raises an eyebrow by approximately 0.5 centimeters. Very deliberate. Very measured.

“Not looking at you.”

You tilt your head, mirroring his earlier gesture.

“Incorrect. You’ve looked at me ten times in the last five minutes. Nine, if you want to exclude peripheral glances.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, which statistically increases the likelihood that he’s internally debating whether arguing is worth it.

You decide to press anyway. “Why?”

His mouth tightens, a minuscule shift of muscle you might have missed before. Not now. Now you notice everything.

“You’re distracting,” he says finally. Short. Clipped. Like ripping off a bandage.

You blink, recalibrating.

“How?”

He sighs, heavier this time—more oxygen expended, betraying more irritation than he probably intends.

“You’re…” He searches for the word like it’s a personal affront to have to find it. “…loud.”

“I’m not speaking.”

“Exactly.”

You process that.

“So my silence is distracting.”

“Yes.”

“Because you’re used to me questioning you.”

“Partly.”

Your eyes narrow. His left hand flexes at his side, the faint creak of leather betraying tension he’s probably holding in check.

“Then elaborate,” you say. Curious. Intrigued despite yourself.

“No.”

You resist the urge to sigh back at him—your own version of his exasperation. 

“Is it proximity?” you try again.  “I can increase distance if needed.”

The corner of his mouth twitches—barely—but enough to register.

“It’s not proximity,” he mutters, almost to himself.

“Then what is it?”

His eyes flicker back to you, sharp and cutting.

“You’re unpredictable,” he says. “That’s the problem.”

You tilt your head again, absorbing that.

“Unpredictability usually denotes a flaw in pattern recognition,” you say thoughtfully. “And you pride yourself on anticipating variables.”

His expression tightens, the faintest edge of irritation sparking.

Good. You’re getting somewhere.

“You’re not a variable,” he says finally, voice low. “You’re an anomaly.”

Your heart stutters—not from sentiment, but from the weight of the word.

Anomaly. Noma.

The nickname he’s never explained.

You hold his gaze, cataloging the dilation of his pupils, the slight tremor in his exhale.

0.4 seconds too long before he looks away.

Enough to register. Enough to matter.

You tilt your head a fraction to the left. Testing. Probing. 

“Your behavior denotes a penchant for sadism,” you observe. Neutral enough to pretend the words don’t sting a little when they land between you.

Yoongi exhales—slow, the faintest curl of amusement threading through the air. 

“Because I’m sadistic, clearly,” he mutters, voice rougher than necessary. 

Calculated imperfection.

You narrow your eyes. Catalog the rhythm of his steps, how they slow imperceptibly as you fall into pace again, how the ambient noise seems to dull when he speaks.

“You are being purposefully obtuse,” you accuse, sharper this time. “Being wistfully cryptic does not align with leadership traits. I would assume the leader of the 7th Hour would not engage in childish tactics.”

A beat.

He hums low in his throat—a noise of neither agreement nor denial. More like he’s tasting your words, deciding whether to bother answering at all.

“Me?” he says finally, deadpan. “Childish? Never.”

The dryness of it slashes across your skin like a blade dipped in velvet.

You scowl, which only earns you another flicker of that infuriating almost-smirk.

“I expected more,” you say, voice clipped. Measured. “That is on me for applying inappropriate expectations.”

“You’ll learn.” His tone drops, lazy and lethal. “Eventually.”

The way he says it—you’ll learn—prickles under your skin. 

Because it doesn’t sound like a threat.

It sounds like a promise.

Your body catalogues the microadjustments again: the flex of leather at his hands, the sharp lines of his jaw as he grinds out the words with so little effort it’s almost mocking.

You resist the irrational urge to step closer.

Proximity is inefficient. Emotional responses disrupt cognitive processing.

You recite it mentally like a catechism.

Still.

The question rises, unbidden.

The same way it seems to always do with him.

“What is the mission objective?”

Blunt. Necessary. Something to tether yourself back to reason.

He doesn’t break stride. Doesn’t even flinch.

“You’re a smart girl,” he says instead, so casually it almost doesn’t register as condescension. Almost. “You’ll figure it out.”

You exhale sharply through your nose. Inefficient communication strategies. You’re tempted to cite the statistical decrease in operational success rates when leadership fails to fully brief its agents, but he’s baiting you. Purposefully.

And you, predictably, are already chasing.

“Statistically,” you begin, voice taut with precision, “the likelihood of successful insertion without a clear objective—”

“Statistically,” he cuts in, unbothered, “there shouldn’t even be a 25th hour.”

The implication lands harder than it should.

You tighten your jaw, recalibrating, watching how he watches you.

Like he’s daring you to keep up.

“You are evading,” you say. “Obfuscating under the guise of intellectual superiority.”

“Am I?” he says, feigning disinterest. His shoulders shrug—barely, beautifully. “Or maybe you just don’t like not being the smartest person in the room.”

You blink once. Slow. Methodical.

Your pulse betrays you anyway, kicking up by approximately 6 bpm.

“You overestimate your own cleverness,” you say evenly, even though some traitorous part of you wants him to keep doing it. 

Keep outsmarting you. Keep sparring until the tension snaps under its own weight.

“You underestimate my patience,” he counters.

Another tiny smirk. Quicker this time. Sharper.

Your chest feels too tight around your ribs.

Inefficient physiological response.

You step away—not because you want distance, but because your processing centers are beginning to overload. You need new data. A new angle.

You pivot sharply toward the park ahead.

Three steps away before you hear his chuckle—so quiet you almost mistake it for a glitch in ambient noise.

You don’t turn back.

Instead, you focus on the new structure—the park that wasn’t there before.

It waits ahead, pristine and out of place. Grass too green. Air too clean. Symmetry too perfect.

Manufactured. Synthetic.

You slow your pace, narrowing your eyes, cataloging inconsistencies: tree spacing (1.3 meters apart, unnaturally even), the curvature of the path (identical to simulation model 8C), the temperature drop (2 degrees lower than the surrounding sector).

You feel Yoongi’s presence a few steps behind you. Not following. Not chasing.

Waiting.

Just like he always does.

Just like he always has.

And somehow, despite everything you know—despite every logic protocol firing in your mind—you want him to follow anyway.

You inhale sharply. Taste static on your tongue.

Focus.

Not on him.

On the mission.

On the park.

Focus on anything except the way Min Yoongi—a ghost, an anomaly—manages to outsmart you without even trying.

So that’s what you do—you focus forward, eyes locking onto the new structure rising ahead of you—all marble paths and manicured trees and gentle, glistening statues under the waning light.

A park that didn’t exist last week.

A plaza that hums wrong against your skin.

Your steps slow as you approach, instinct warning you even before your mind can fully process it.

You analyze the angles of the paths. The symmetry of the displays. The too-perfect gloss of the stone.

The air feels wrong here—too still, like it's been filtered of something vital.

But curiosity nags at you. It always does, when things defy explanations.

You step forward into the park, assessing its dimensions with a precision that seems excessive even to you. The perimeter measures exactly 247.8 meters around. The pathways curve at identical 30-degree angles. The statues are placed at equidistant intervals of precisely 12.4 meters.

Perfect. Too perfect.

Your temporal readings spike by 0.17% as you observe families strolling casually through what your analytical mind categorizes as a statistical impossibility. A man pushes a stroller past a bronze figure frozen mid-gesture. A couple takes selfies beneath the outstretched arm of another.

"The Garden of Stability," reads a polished plaque at the entrance. "Honoring those who sacrificed to maintain our timeline."

You've never seen this place before. You're certain of it. 

Yet your Chrono-Sync Watch registers no anomalies beyond the acceptable variance threshold.

Curious.

You move deeper into the garden, cataloging details: like the fact that the statues are eerily lifelike—capturing expressions with a fidelity that exceeds current manufacturing capabilities by approximately 27%. 

Furthermore, each statue has a small plaque fixed to its base. 

You approach the nearest one, a figure of a woman with her hand extended, fingers splayed as if reaching for something just beyond grasp.

"In memory of Eska Thior—sacrificed herself to stabilize Sector 7 during the temporal disturbance of 2156."

Your eyes narrow as you analyze the woman's expression. 

The sculptor has captured what should be determination, but there's something else—something in the eyes that registers as wrong. 

Your visual processing identifies it as fear, not resolve.

You move to the next statue. A man looking skyward, one foot slightly raised as if caught mid-step.

"In memory of Vayon Zesian—sacrificed himself to protect civilian timelines during the Sector 4 anomaly."

The black man's face is frozen in what the plaque suggests is awe or reverence. But your pattern recognition flags inconsistencies: the tension in his jaw is 38% higher than would be expected in a reverent expression. His fingers are curved at angles suggesting resistance, not surrender.

Your head throbs—a dull, persistent ache that intensifies as you catalog each discrepancy. Yet you continue, your analytical mind demanding more data despite the physical discomfort.

A sharp tug at your wrist interrupts your analysis. You turn, ready to object to the invasion of your personal space, when you register Agent Min's face exactly 31.7 centimeters from yours. His eyes contain a warning that makes no logical sense given the context.

"Shh," he says, the sound barely audible at 22 decibels. "Act normal."

You blink, processing both the command and the unusual tension in his posture. His hand remains on your wrist, gloved fingers gripping with precisely 42% more pressure than necessary for attention-getting purposes.

"This wasn't here yesterday," you whisper, your voice automatically matching his volume. "It's new."

"Yes, it is," he confirms, his eyes never meeting yours. Instead, they scan the perimeter. "And I'd advise against looking at the statues."

The request is illogical. You're already looking at them. You've already cataloged five discrepancies and three statistical anomalies in their design.

"Why?" you ask, the question forming before you can process the tension radiating from his body.

You turn away from him precisely as he tightens his grip—too late to stop your movement. Your eyes land on a statue directly ahead, positioned 15.3 meters from your current location. 

A man in a CHRONOS uniform, arms outstretched as if embracing the air around him.

Robin.

Your cognitive processes stutter, creating a 0.7-second delay between visual input and meaning assignment. 

Robin. Cubicle 47-B. Coffee preference: black with one sugar. Temporal compliance rating: 98.7%. Lunch companion: yesterday, 12:37 PM to 1:14 PM.

"That's Robin," you state, your voice dropping to 19 decibels. "I had lunch with him yesterday."

Your stomach contracts unexpectedly, digestive acids rising by approximately 37%. Your neural pathways struggle to reconcile the contradiction: Robin alive yesterday. Robin memorialized today.

Robin moving, breathing, complaining about the cafeteria's tempeh option yesterday.

Robin frozen in bronze today.

No fabrication facility could produce a statue this detailed in less than 24 hours. 

The metallurgical processes alone would require at minimum 72 hours for casting and cooling, with an additional 48 for detailing and patina development.

Unless...

Your analytical mind reaches the conclusion precisely as your stomach lurches again—a visceral response you didn't anticipate and cannot control.

They're not statues.

"We need to leave," Agent Min says, voice pitched extremely low. 

His fingers adjust on your wrist, shifting downward by 2.3 centimeters until they rest against the pulse point where your glove meets your sleeve.

Your heart rate increases by 13.7 beats per minute.

Not from his touch. From the realization.

"They're not statues," you confirm aloud, your voice clinical despite the acid burning the back of your throat. "They're people. Frozen in some form of temporal stasis."

Agent Min's jaw tightens, the muscle visibly tensing beneath his skin. 

“Not here," he warns, his voice barely audible. "Camera at your two o'clock, range 17 meters. Audio capture capabilities."

You process this new variable, immediately adjusting your behavior patterns. Your posture shifts by 4.3 degrees—more casual, less alert. Your expression recalibrates to something 76% more neutral.

"The craftsmanship is remarkable," you say at standard conversational volume, the words feeling like ash on your tongue. "Such attention to detail."

Agent Min's eyes flash with something that might be approval if it weren't overshadowed by urgency. 

“We should continue our walk," he says evenly. "There's more to see in Sector 4."

His fingers remain at your pulse point for exactly 2.7 seconds longer than necessary before releasing. The warmth lingers—a ghost sensation you struggle to categorize.

You follow his lead, moving away from Robin's frozen form with measured steps despite the increasing pressure in your chest. Your breathing adjusts automatically—in for 4 seconds, out for 6—matching the pattern Agent Min established earlier.

Families continue to mill around you, oblivious to the horror disguised as art. A child points at Robin's statue, tugging at her mother's sleeve.

"He looks so happy, mommy! Like he's giving everyone a big hug!"

Your vision blurs by approximately 12%—an inexplicable visual phenomenon you'll need to analyze later.

Agent Min positions himself precisely 47 centimeters to your left—close enough for temporal alignment, far enough to maintain whatever invisible boundary he's established. 

But something has changed. 

His posture carries 27% more tension than before, and his eyes scan the area with a renowned frequency.

"Don't look back," he instructs as you approach the park's exit. "And whatever you do, don't react when I tell you this."

You maintain your neutral expression, eyes fixed forward as instructed.

"There are seventeen of them in this garden," he says, voice low and controlled. "All from your monitoring facility. All disappeared within the last 72 hours."

Your Chrono-Sync Watch beeps softly: Temporal variance: 1.12%.

A warning. Your emotional response is affecting your temporal stability.

You inhale slowly, forcing your analytical mind to take precedence over the uncomfortable pressure building behind your sternum.

"Probability of coincidence: less than 0.003%," you calculate aloud, keeping your voice steady despite the data.

"It's not a coincidence," he confirms, voice dropping even lower. "It's a message."

"For who?"

His eyes meet yours briefly—0.8 seconds of direct contact that somehow feels heavier than it should.

"For us," he says simply. "For you."

Your temporal variance increases to 1.17%.

"They're hunting for Outliers," he continues, eyes scanning the path ahead. "This garden is both a warning and a trap. They're watching for reactions—for people who recognize what they're really seeing."

“That's why you grabbed my wrist. You anticipated my reaction."

A ghost of that infuriating half-smile crosses his face. "You're predictable in some ways, Noma."

The nickname dulls the ache sitting low in your stomach for reasons you cannot comprehend.

"Robin greeted me yesterday," you realize aloud, the pieces clicking into place. "At lunch. He looked at me strangely when I mentioned the temporal fluctuation in Sector 3."

Agent Min's expression doesn't change, but something in his eyes darkens. 

“How long was the conversation?"

"17 minutes, 42 seconds."

"And did you discuss anything related to temporal anomalies after that?"

You review the memory, analyzing each exchange with renewed scrutiny. 

"Negative. The conversation shifted to cafeteria food quality."

He exhales—a controlled release of breath that betrays nothing of his thoughts. 

“That might have been enough."

Your stomach lurches.

Robin is frozen in bronze because of you. Because he noticed something. Because he might have reported it.

The data is insufficient for a definitive conclusion, but the probability exceeds 72.4%.

Your temporal variance increases to 1.23%.

"Steady," Agent Min murmurs, his voice carrying a cadence that seems designed to stabilize your readings. "Focus on your breathing. In for 4, out for 6."

You comply automatically, your body responding to the instruction before your mind can process why. 

"Is this what happens to all Outliers?" you ask once your variance stabilizes at 1.09%. "They become... monuments?"

"No," he says finally. "Most are simply erased and reprogrammed. This is... new."

"A tactical adjustment," you surmise. "Enhanced psychological warfare."

"Yes." 

"Why now?"

His jaw tightens, eyes darkening to that dangerous shade that makes your pulse accelerate by 7.2 beats per minute. 

"Because they're getting desperate."

"Why would CHRONOS be desperate? They control reality itself."

His eyes meet yours, something unreadable flashing in their depths. 

“That's what I'd like to know," he mutters, voice dropping to that dangerous octave that makes your skin prickle.

The discrepancy registers immediately. Agent Min doesn't ask questions—he provides answers, often cryptic and insufficient, but answers nonetheless. This response pattern deviates by approximately 87% from established behavioral norms.

Before you can analyze further, your body betrays you.

It starts as a contraction in your esophagus—sudden, violent, measuring approximately 74% stronger than standard swallowing reflex. Your salivary glands activate at 243% above baseline, flooding your mouth with excess moisture. Your stomach muscles clench in rhythmic waves, each contraction more intense than the last.

The analytical part of your mind calculates: gastric acid rising at 7.2 centimeters per second, diaphragm contracting at 3.7 times normal pressure, throat constricting at 82% capacity.

The rest of you simply feels.

Robin's face. Frozen in bronze that isn't bronze.

Your Chrono-Sync Watch beeps a warning: Temporal variance: 2.43%.

A dangerous spike.

Your body heaves, doubling you over with a force that defies voluntary control. The acid burns at exactly 4.7 on the pH scale, searing the back of your throat as you fight to contain it. Your vision narrows to a field of approximately 47 degrees, peripheral awareness fading as your sensory systems redirect all processing power to the immediate crisis.

You register Agent Min's hand on your back—exactly T4 vertebra, pressure precisely calibrated at 2.3 kilograms, generating heat at 38.2°C despite the glove barrier.

"CHRONOS agents," he says, voice suddenly sharp with urgency. "Two o'clock, range 43 meters. Moving this way."

Your body doesn't care about CHRONOS agents. Your body only knows that Robin is frozen in timeless agony while families take selfies beneath his outstretched arms.

Another contraction—87% stronger than the previous one. Your analytical mind attempts to categorize the physiological response but finds no suitable parameters. 

This isn't logical. This isn't efficient. This isn't you.

Agent Min's hand moves from your spine to your wrist in one fluid motion. His fingers lock around the pulse point where your glove meets your sleeve, grip tensing to exactly 3.6 kilograms of pressure.

"Move. Now."

Your body moves before your mind processes the instruction, legs automatically adjusting to match his sudden directional shift. You register environmental changes with fragmented precision: ambient temperature decreasing by 1.7°C, crowd density increasing by 23%, noise levels rising to 72 decibels.

Agent Min guides you, his body angled at exactly 37 degrees relative to yours—shielding you from direct line of sight with the approaching agents while maintaining casual appearance.

"Temporal signature spiking," he mutters, grip tightening by another 0.4 kilograms. "They'll detect it if we don't stabilize you."

Your watch confirms his assessment: Temporal variance: 3.17%.

Critical threshold approaching.

The nausea intensifies, each wave synchronized perfectly with the beeping of your watch. Their correlation approaches 97.3%—statistically significant by any measure.

"Coffee shop," Agent Min decides, adjusting your trajectory by 28 degrees. "Northeast corner. Dampening field in the walls."

Your cognitive processes struggle to keep pace with the sensory overload. The street blurs around you—not from speed but from some perceptual distortion your analytical mind cannot quantify.

You glimpse your reflection in a storefront window as you pass—your face pale by approximately 37% compared to baseline, pupils dilated to 7.2 millimeters, micro-expressions cycling at 3.4 times normal rate.

You barely recognize yourself.

Another contraction seizes your stomach, more violent than before. Agent Min's arm shifts, sliding around your waist with a familiarity that feels habitual despite being entirely new. 

"Almost there," he says, voice dropping to that calibrated cadence that seems designed to stabilize your readings. "In for 4, out for 6. Match me."

Your body complies automatically, respiratory system syncing to his pattern without conscious direction. 

CHRONOS agents appear in your peripheral vision—three of them, moving with the unnatural precision that marks them as Timekeepers. Their trajectory will intersect with yours in approximately 12.3 seconds at current velocity.

"They're tracking your signature," Agent Min confirms, pace increasing by 0.3 meters per second. "Coffee shop.”

The coffee shop materializes ahead—a nondescript building with that averageness that makes it practically invisible to casual observation. Its design incorporates exactly zero distinguishing architectural features, rendering it 87% forgettable to the human brain.

Perfect camouflage.

Agent Min guides you through the door body positioned at precisely the optimal angle to shield yours from external observation. The bell chimes at exactly 56 hertz—a frequency your analytical mind flags as mathematically significant though you cannot immediately determine why.

The door closes behind you with a soft click that somehow sounds final.

Agent Min's arm remains around your waist—a point of contact your body accepts with suspicious automaticity.

Your Chrono-Sync Watch beeps one last time before falling silent: Temporal variance: 1.78%.

Decreasing. Stabilizing.

The nausea recedes by approximately 42%, leaving behind a hollow sensation you cannot properly categorize.

Agent Min's eyes meet yours, and he looks… concerned?

"Breathe," he instructs.

You comply, your body responding to his command without conscious direction.

In for 4.

Out for 6.

In for 4.

Out for 6.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

goal: 100 notes.

next | index

— taglist

@cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @somehowukook @stutixmaru @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @ktownshizzle @yoongiiuu93 @billy-jeans23 @annyeongbitch7 @mar-lo-pap @hobis-sprite0218 @mikrokookiex @minniejim @curse-of-art @cristy-101 @mellyyyyyyx

© jungkoode 2025

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[mymoshangthoughts]

a list of silly moshang ideas

for your entertainment and bc i had fun compiling them LOL

shang qinghua being so sexually expressive with his desires that mobei jun is a blushing miserable mess. like either they've gotten together and now that shang qinghua is comfortable knowing he's got his man, he just lets loose with everything on his mind. and sure, mobei jun is dtf and happy to try anything shang qinghua suggests, but that doesnt mean that the way shang qinghua can just shamelessly say the most unhinged and kinky shit doesn't literally make him about to explode with fluster. or even just the mundane way that shang qinghua will grope or talk to him. just qinghua slumps down next to his husband and cuddles against his side, when suddenly shang qinghua just rests a hand on his dick and sighs wistfully "man i love the shape of you inside of me" and wtf is mobei jun supposed to do with that?! other than become very flustered and maybe bring that into reality. but also its not like shang qinghua is even coming on to him. he just likes to cuddle and grope his hubbys huge dick. mobei jun was not prepared for just how comfortable with sex, sexual topics, and touching shang qinghua would be and he is losing his mind just a little bit. alternatively, on the slowburn side of this idea, shang qinghua and mobei jun are still Just Friends, but now that shang qinghua is comfortable at his side, he lets himself say all sorts of filthy shit bc he's just like "ah guy friends can talk abt dirty shit right? half my topics with cucumber-bro are sexual in nature (bc of the fucking novel they're stuck in), half of the convos i had online were sexual in nature (bc of the novel he wrote), so it's totally normal to just talk to a bro about the intricacies of the kama sutra and shit like that lol". meanwhile mobei jun is Losing His Fucking Mind because sure, half his conversations with shang qinghua are perfectly normal things. work, travel, hobbies, and all that stuff. but then the other half is just the most filthy stuff that mobei jun never dared to imagine and its all pouring out of the mouth of the man that he wants more than breathing and He Is Not Okay Right Now

kitty!mobei jun sitting on airplanes head. i'm thinking a shapeshifting demon OR mobei jun hit with a transformation curse. anyway, modern day so either he got dumped between worlds or its just a modern au where demons just exist and humans are none the wiser. anyway, airplane is just a shitty writer who is doing his best when suddenly this cat decided "your house is my house bitch" and now he's just accepted his fate and the cat sits on his head while he writes and bothers him all day and literally kicked him off his bed. altho nowadays the cat will very reluctantly let airplane cuddle with him on the bed, but claws are always on the table. and airplane just kinda wonders if this is how everyone gets a cat bc wtf is happening and how is this his life

shang qinghua handing mobei jun a document to sign and he does so unthinkingly, bc he trusts qinghua, and a moment later shang qinghua is whooping because "AHAHAHA NOW WE'RE MARRIED AND YOU CANT GET OUT OF IT BWAHAHA" and he just doesnt have the heart to tell qinghua that there was literally no need to trick him into this, he absolutely would have done it knowingly because it's kinda funny to watch shang qinghua lose his mind over his "diabolical plot" succeeding (look as soon as airplane figured that mobei prolly wouldnt kill him for it, he was willing to do just about anything to tie that man down). mobei jun just likes how his now husband looks when he's "won"

mobei jun slumped against shang qinghua while he goes about his day and everyone watching on in confused fear as the king of the north just drapes himself all over shang qinghua and shang qinghua just keeps working as if nothing is going on. all the servants in the palace feeling deeply uncomfortable, but they can't do anything about it and shang qinghua just waves off anyone who asks about it and is the king purring?!

shang qinghua wearing a sexy maid costume completely shamelessly while mobei jun tries to cover him up. shang qinghua thinks the costume is hilarious and he has no idea what the outfit is DOING to poor mobei jun, much less all of the very "looking disrespectfully" looks he's earning from others bc he just thinks it's funny as fuck. altho even after he learns that mobei jun is about to lose his mind over it, he's just as shameless except now he's doing it on purpose and someone send help, mobei jun is gonna have a heart attack.

mobei jun biting shang qinghua's ear when he loses an argument before storming away. like no explanation, nothing. just he loses an argument, he bites shang qinghua's ear, and he storms away in a huff. bonus if it's before they're in a relationship so shang qinghua is doubly confused as to just What The Fuck Just Happened

mobei jun waking up to see shang qinghua asleep at his side and marveling at the sight. simple and fluffy, he just loves the soft moments in the morning when he can just bask at the easy intimacy between them and how special it feels to be with the one he loves.

dimension hopping time-traveling pidw!mobei jun finds himself in the pivotal moment when he first met og!shang qinghua. he's about to intervene when he sees that shang qinghua is about to bash his head in with a rock (the same way that the original did) but then he's confused when THIS shang qinghua doesnt do it and suddenly he's aware that the mannerisms of THIS shang qinghua are completely different than the servant he once knew and he's left wondering if this is another time traveler or something else. so he watches airplane!shang qinghua rescue his younger self while following along in the background and wondering just what the hell is going on

twin au: og!shang qinghua berating airplane!shang qinghua for his horrible taste in men. the plot twist is that the entire conversation is happening while airplane!shang qinghua is seated in mobei jun's lap, who doesnt give a shit about the conversation so long as he can hug his airplane to his chest and nap. his head resting on airplane's shoulder and arms wrapped firmly around him while the brothers chit-chat about everything and anything, although mostly just og!shang qinghua hating on mobei jun bc he would like his twin back "once in a century, you clingy piece of shit" and mobei jun oculd not give the tiniest fuck. bonus if wei qingwei eventually picks og!shang qinghua up for their date or smth like that lol

binghe and qinghua plotting diabolical sexy plans for their partners together, to the quaking (horny) fear of shen yuan and mobei jun

shang qinghua bursting in after a long day of hard work and using mobei jun as a lap pillow without any regard for what mobei jun was currently doing. just mobei jun in the middle of an important meeting and now suddenly this tiny human bursts in and curls up on his lap in a huff and mobei jun continues on as though everything is totally normal and everyone else is trying not to lose their shit bc wtf

mobei jun bursting into shang qinghua's home and dragging him to bed for cuddles without any regard for what qinghua was doing. qinghua doesnt even have time to ask or pause what he's doing before suddenly he's been kidnapped to the designated Cuddle Spot where mobei jun won't let go and won't explain and oki its cuddle time i guess

airplane watching in horror as ring-style mobei jun crawls out of his computer screen. look, he's just a humble porn author, he was not prepared for one of his creations to CRAWL OUT OF THE COMPUTER LIKE THAT. he cannot be blamed for the way he screamed, tried to run away, or tried to push mobei jun back into the screen

shang qinghua casually bossing mobei jun around to the horror of those who witness it, even more horrifying when mobei jun responds with an angry glare that freezes over everything before just... doing it. secretly, mobei jun likes it. it's just embarrassing how much he likes it and thats why he's glaring. everyone else is wondering if shang qinghua has put some sort of obedience curse onto the king

shang qinghua being carried like a sack of potatos over mobei jun's shoulder while continuing a work meeting like nothing happened, an ding peak disciples having to scurry after the retreating demon lord as they take notes

mobei jun dragging airplane to bed and away from his computer, claw marks in the floor as airplane is dragged by the foot and trying to get back to his writing

kitten!mobei jun sleeping on airplane's keyboard, swatting at his hands every time airplane tries to move him.

shang qinghua having an oral fixation so he's always chewing on something while he thinks and it's sort of driving mobei jun insane. just shang qinghua mildly chewing on the end of a brush while he's thinking and why are so many of the objects that shang qinghua thoughtlessly puts in his mouth phallic?! HE IS NOT READY FOR THIS. mobei jun strugglign with the horny thoughts of "if he wanted, i'd let him suck on my cock while he's thinking" and just losing his fucking mind

mobei jun casually braiding shang qinghua's hair while shang qinghua hunches over paperwork

mobei jun carrying airplane under one arm and airplane!shang qinghua under the other arm with the self satisfaction of a man who has double the man he loves (bonus points for airplane to have a significantly different character design than shang qinghua)

mobei jun glaring with the hatred of a thousand suns whenever shang qinghua looks at him but whenever shang qinghua looks away, he looks soft and besotted. sha hualing is gonna vomit at this tsundere motherfucker

airplane wearing a hamster kigurumi wrapped up in mobei jun's arms

mobei jun casually stealing shang qinghua's melon seeds until shang qinghua loses his temper (but thats victory for mobei jun, secretly he was just trying to get his husbands attention)

[elodieunderglass]

In preparation for reading your WIPs on AO3 I’ve watched the first 6+ eps of Delicious in Dungeon. It’s silly and light and frothy and lovely and then I get smacked between the eyeballs with Faligan and it made me want to wrap them all up in blankets and not have them worry about stuff for at least the next whole day. Poor kids.

Anyway, enjoying the heck out of Chilchuk. Would you recommend reading any of the manga to get a better read on his character/ history or is the anime a good prep course before diving into your fics?

Ahahaha Oh NO! sorry about all this! you're under no obligation to do so!

Both "Weasel Heart in Defiance" and "His Delicious Materials" have been read - and reportedly enjoyed - by people with less knowledge of the source material than that. I think they're both fairly accessible. It was important to me that HDM not spoil season 2 of the anime, so it doesn't - just gestures at it in places.

Weasel Heart in particular is almost a standalone. While married firmly to the elements of its fusion, it has its own full novel-length novel-weight plot, which is so independent from the canon plot of Delicious in Dungeon that I made a serious attempt to decouple it from canon, and structure it a standalone original work. I made a decent whack at writing it out, using an OC as a placeholder - as someone gets their friend to pose for them, to model the drape of fabric, in order to paint the light. That didn't work, and Killie ran away like a beautiful startled horse, leaving only a faint Easter egg behind him. So, I decided to follow Weasel Heart in the spirit it came to me in - as a fanfic - and that has been the right choice, even if I'm now in the position of juggling three WIPs and IRL friend/ beta reader Sweetlyfez in particular is probably raising a significant eyebrow at me. Pour one out for her.

But Weasel Heart really is ALSO its own animal (Weasel.) And it even has an appendix in the middle where I explain what's my own worldbuilding, what is Philip Pullman's, what's a personal fight with Tolkien, and what canonically belongs to an innocent manga artist who'd probably be rather puzzled. So i think it's ok to read and won't spoil anything but conversely, IT HAS AN APPENDIX.

Also the friend I was originally writing HDM for (as a gift - something for her partner to read during treatment and she couldn't follow published fiction very well) is now out of active treatment! And Sweetlyfez cooked up an entire baby!!!! The world turns!!

[fivestaralien]

there for you

wooyoung x fem!chubby reader

word count: 2120

warnings+": shitty family dynamic, mentions of really bad anxiety, wooyoung will always stand up for you<3 lmk if there's anything else

a.n.// had some very similar conversations with family members recently and this is my outlet to comfort myself ahahaha also obsessed with ateez's new comeback and wooyoung has been catching my eye the most. yunho look away..... anyway I hope you enjoy and lmk your thoughts!!! stay safe as always<3

//

Wooyoung knew the second he stepped into your shared place that something was off. He knew you were probably getting ready by the time he was done with practice but he didn’t see a single implication of that. Today was your brother and sister-in laws rehearsal dinner and you were beyond nervous. You hadn’t slept in days and nothing has been able to help. 

 You had spent all day trying to calm yourself down and just toughen up but being surrounded by so many people freaks you out. Especially since you will have to see your father, who was never your biggest fan. You’ve used many different methods to help your thoughts but for some reason none of them were useful at the moment.

 You were so in your own head you didn’t even notice Wooyoung walk into the room and sit down next to you. He leans over you, steading himself on a hand next to your chest. You give him a small smile as he traces your cheek with his thumb catching your attention.

 “What do you need right now?” 

 Instead of answering verbally you open your arms wide and he puts his entire upper body on yours. You squeeze your arms around his shoulders playing with his hair and Wooyoung could already feel you relaxing. 

 Goosebumps rise on your arm as he traces patterns delicately across your skin. You always appreciated when the two of you could just lay in silence together and not have to think about the real world. Wooyoung was a very loud and outgoing person but he knew when it was time to calm down and not cause too much trouble. 

 You snuggle closer to him as he kisses up and down your neck and shoulder almost like Wooyoung was transferring some of his energy to you. 

 “Thank you for agreeing to come with me. I don’t think I’d be able to get through the whole dinner without you.” You whisper into his hair. 

 “You know I will always be there for you and I am more than happy to support you and your family.” He kisses the corner of your mouth. 

 You grab your phone to check the time and groan when you realize that you really need to be getting ready. It’s been put off for too long so you motion to Wooyoung to get up and change into the outfits you had planned for you two. 

 Still to this day you will never get over how ridiculously handsome Wooyoung is and seeing him in his all black suit right now just solidifies that. You smooth out the lapels of his jacket not hiding at all that you were checking him out but he wasn’t hiding it either. Wooyoung grabs your hand and whistles while slowly spinning you to see every single angle of you in your matching pantsuit and you jokingly spin him around too. 

 “God you are a dream.” It slips out before you could even really think and you could see Wooyoungs pride swelling the second he hears your words.

 “Trying out new nicknames are we?” He teases squeezing your hips.

 “Wipe that smile off your face before I do it for you.” His laugh rings throughout the bathroom causing you to follow along. 

 Wooyoung cups both of your cheeks bringing you in for a short kiss. You do some last minute touch ups before finally leaving and now it really is hitting you. Luckily for you your wonderful boyfriend was right there to help ease your nerves. The entire drive to the venue he was either holding your hand or massaging your thigh and when you arrived he was more than happy to let you take your time to prepare yourself.

 You eventually go in hand in hand and immeadietly you are swarmed by various family members. Wooyoung tries his best to keep a lot of the attention off you but since he didn’t know your family that well you unfortunately got most of it. Your younger family members pull you into so many different conversations you feel like your head might explode. Luckily you see your brother making his way over.

 “y/n! Wooyoung! I’m so happy to see you guys here.” Your brother comes up hugging you both tightly, “ you guys are gonna be sitting with us, mom, dad and her parents.” He points to the table up in the very front. 

 Just then his fiance comes up to greet you both and you easily get sucked into a conversation with her. She has always looked out for you and you were extremely grateful for that. Wooyoung stayed on the sidelines watching over you with careful eyes as you happily talked with your future sister. 

 “How are you doing? I really am happy that you could make it. I know things like this are hard for you.” She pats your knee affectionately. 

 “I’m good. I think if Wooyoung wasn’t here it would be a whole different story.” You laugh trying not to think too much about it, “but I wouldn’t miss this for anything I’m so happy for you both.” You squeeze her arm as a blush rises on her cheeks. 

 “Thank you. Even though this is just the rehearsal dinner I’m almost just as nervous. It’s so crazy how much your life changes when you get married.” She looks towards your brother with so much love in her eyes it makes you feel so happy for them. 

 You personally never had any interest in ever getting married but you will always support your loved ones with what they want to do with their lives. Thankfully Wooyoung since day one has always been on the same page as you but you know you would spend the rest of your life with him. 

 “I can’t even imagine what your thoughts are and how much time and effort that goes into a wedding. It’s going to be beautiful.” 

 You converse a little long before she has to go and talk to others that have arrived and Wooyoung gladly takes his place next to you again. His hand immediately goes to the small of your back under your jacket pushing you close to his side. You welcome the comfort with a smile and wrap your arm around his torso.

 “Check in?” He whispers towards your ear. 

 “I’m at a 75 right now and we just barely started. I hate how easily overstimulated I get around people.” You can feel your eyes begin to sting and you were more than grateful that you were in a more secluded area so no one could see. 

 “Hey it’s going to be okay. Don’t worry about needing to talk to anyone anymore, just let me do that.” He kisses your forehead, thumbing away a stray tear from your cheek.

 He cradles the back of your head to bring you into a hug. You wrap your arms around his neck to get as close to him as possible and he whispers encouraging words while rubbing up and down your back. It takes you a few minutes to calm down and eventually you are able to go sit at the table designated for you. 

 When you sit down Wooyoung grabs the back of your chair scooting you a little closer to him. He lays his hand on your thigh, palm up knowing you would need a distraction. You instantly begin tracing the lines on his palm as your parents spark up a conversation with Wooyoung. 

 You mostly drown out what they are talking about and focus more on the patterns on the hand resting on your lap but you catch little things here and there. They ask the usual parent questions, like how work was going, what his plans for the future was and the one question you always hated, when are you and our daughter getting married and having kids. 

 No matter how many times throughout your life that you’ve told them you don’t plan on doing either of those things, they just never listen.

 “Well we’ve both talked about it when we first started dating and we’re on the same page about not having kids or getting married.” Wooyoung explains as nicely as he can. 

 “Have you always not wanted those things or did you only decide that when you met our daughter? I’ve always told her that she needs to do things the right way but she always has to go against me.” Your fathers tone was a very condescending and you squeeze Wooyoungs hand a little too tightly. 

 “I mean sure I’ve thought about it but ultimately that isn’t my decision it’s yn’s and no matter what she decides I will love and support her.” Wooyoung tells your father without any hesitation.

 You couldn’t be more proud of Wooyoung and how he stands up for you. Especially since you’ve always butted heads with your father. He’s always made it clear that everything you did was never going to please him so you stopped trying a long time ago. It still hurts sometimes though, like right now.

 Almost like he can sense when your father is starting shit, your brother comes in like a saving grace and sits down next to him taking the attention off of you. Wooyoung moves his hand to the back of your neck, gently massaging to hopefully ease the tension he knows is washing over your body. 

 Not long after your brother's best man begins a speech but all you focus on is the person sitting next to you. Wooyoung does a very good job at keeping you distracted and eventually the dinner ends and you can finally go home. 

 You give hugs to your brother and his fiance and a few of your cousins and practically drag Wooyoung to the car. As soon as you get away from everyone you begin ranting.

 “I just don’t understand why he can’t just support me with anything.” You fold your arms across your chest and lean against the car. Wooyoung leans against his shoulder facing you to give all his attention, “he wonders why I don’t tell him stuff and it’s so frustrating because I want to be close to him but he just won’t let me.” 

 You then lean all the way back looking up at the darkening sky as Wooyoung comes to stand right in front of you. He cups your face to make you look at him then lightly pecks your lips. 

 “I know that it’s hard but at the end of the day it’s your life and you get to choose what you do with it. You can’t let anyone, even a family member, decide what you want to do with your life.” He tells you while gliding his thumbs across your cheeks. 

 Nodding to what he says you know he is right but you also have this deep need of validation from your dad that you still are trying to unlearn. You are lucky to have Wooyoung though because you know that no matter what he will always have your back. He also is amazing at giving you solid advice even when you don’t really want to hear it but that’s why you love him. 

 You lift yourself off of the car and swing your arms around Wooyoung, shoving your face into his chest. He holds you close kissing the top of your head and then asks if you wanted him to drive home to which you nod against him. 

 When you walk past the front door you take off your jacket and collapse onto the couch face down. You hear Wooyoung laugh and then tug on your leg a little to try and get you up. 

 “Come on love, let's get ready for bed. It’s been a long day for you.” He squeezes your calf affectionately. 

 You lift off the couch and follow him into the bathroom to wash all of your makeup off. You go back and forth with using products and eventually get into comfier clothes when you finish. 

 “Thank you for today and what you said to my dad. It means a lot.” You tell him as you settle on the bed and into his arms. 

 “Of course. I’ll always have your back and what he insinuated was pretty shitty, I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with him for so long. Why don’t we go out tomorrow? Do something to get your mind off of today.” 

 You nod your head and you feel your eyes getting heavy. Wooyoung can feel you relaxing and figures you are beginning to fall asleep. He rubs your back letting you fall even deeper until your breath evens out and he follows not long after.

// my masterlists :)

[girlacticrailroad]

series review: friendly rivalry

Spoiler Warning: This review doesn’t discuss the plot in detail, but there are some vague hints about later directions the plot takes.

If you frequent spaces where GL fans congregate on the internet, chances are you’ve heard a lot lately about Friendly Rivalry, the hot new K-drama that’s drawing attention for its sophisticated writing, sensitive depictions of adolescent trauma, probing psychological insight, and—lol just kidding it’s the kissing. It’s the part where the girls kiss.

We all know why you’re here you sick freaks.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to write about Friendly Rivalry because I’ve never been hugely into K-dramas, and because I was hearing mixed things about its GL qualifications. Some people were saying it was, others that it wasn’t, some people were saying it was “ambiguous,” but that ambiguously gay was about the most you could hope for from a mainstream Korean series. While smooching in the bathtub seems pretty unambiguous on the surface, it’s certainly possible to have a one-off scene like that and not be GL. Then I found out that the fabled bathtub makeout scene is only a dream sequence!! Booo.

Nonetheless, I take my blogging responsibilities seriously: I must keep my finger on the GL pulse. So in the end, bait or not, I bit. What’s the harm in giving the first episode a try, I thought. I can always drop it, right?

Ahahaha. Famous last words.

The tale of a very normal friendship between two very normal girls.

Sooo the first episode of Friendly Rivalry got me. It got its hooks in me deep. So deep that I may have binged the whole series in two days. I may or may not have violated an international law or two in my effort to track down and watch the remaining episodes. (Parody!) I was not prepared for how quickly this show would worm its way into my brain, or for how stubbornly it would stick around in there.

The premise is pretty straightforward: Seul-gi is a country bumpkin with a hardknock life who realizes one day that doing drugs makes her a studying machine, and that doing well in school is her ticket out of her lousy circumstances. For plot reasons I understood perfectly well thanks to the flawless professionally translated subtitles, she gets a chance to transfer to an elite hyper-competitive all-girls high school for her senior year. There she encounters a nice Christian girl named Jae-yi, the idol of the school, who for mysterious reasons takes an immediate and obsessive interest in her. Friendly Rivalry quickly escalates into a labyrinthine mystery thriller I could not begin to summarize if I tried—there’s blackmail, betrayal, cyberbullying, drug abuse, every other kind of abuse, murder, medical malpractice, masturbation in inappropriate places, etc.—but the heart of the story, once you’ve peeled back all the layers, is the classic tale of a girl who falls head over heels for the cute daughter of an evil doctor as they team up to take revenge for—wait a minute, isn’t this the plot of Us?

Before we get into all that, let’s address the question on everyone’s mind: Is it GL? As a qualified GL scholar, I am luckily able to provide the one true correct answer to such inquiries. And my expert opinion is...it depends? If by GL you mean a specific subgenre of romance, with certain romance tropes and conventions, then maybe not. If you define GL more loosely as “girls in love,” then yes. You would either have to be asleep, or the most heterosexual person on earth, not to pick up on the romantic tension between Seul-gi and Jae-yi. It ain’t subtle. I wouldn’t have been upset if the series had focused more on their relationship, or if there had been more romantic scenes, but I can also admit that the romance doesn’t need to be any more explicit than it is—and, in the case of this particular story, which depends on Jae-yi being hard to read, a little ambiguity was probably necessary.

Ladies is it gay to tenderly embrace the person in the world you cherish most from behind as you rest your weary head upon her precious shoulder?

The first half of FR floored me. After watching Us struggle to find its footing for weeks on end, it was shocking to encounter something so bold in its tone and skillful in its storytelling. Something so self-aware and confident in what it was doing. Something so...well, good. The first eight episodes frankly run laps around most other GLs. In terms of pure efficiency, there is more conflict and character development stuffed into the first two half-hour episodes of Friendly Rivalry than there is in all sixteen hours of The Loyal Pin. The mystery in FR makes Pluto’s twists and turns look like child’s play. If you want the revenge plot of Us, but executed with about a thousand times more pizzazz, look no further. The evil doctor from FR would eat Khem for breakfast, and probably desecrate his bones afterwards.

One thing Friendly Rivalry does well is create a world that feels internally consistent. The world of Chaehwa Girls’ High School is operatic and lurid, but the absurdity never really matters, because the characters feel like they belong to that world. (Also because it’s just so much fun.) Of course everyone at this school is addicted to pills, and of course Jae-yi, the top student, finds time to moonlight as their skateboarding drug dealer. Why not? It’s fucking cool as hell.

Note: In real life it is not actually “cool as hell” to get all your friends hooked on illicit pharmaceuticals.

But for this exaggerated world to really come to life, the underlying emotions, however heightened, need to feel real, and Friendly Rivalry nails this aspect as well, thanks to some sharp character writing and two amazing lead performances. All the actors are fantastic really—I especially enjoyed Oh Woo-ri as the awkwardly horny kid—but Lee Hye-ri and Chung Su-bin, in the roles of Jae-yi and Seul-gi, are just perfect. I cannot imagine anyone else playing these characters. Su-bin doesn’t try to soften Suel-gi’s rough edges—she understands this character is likeable precisely because she isn’t trying to be. She’s a traumatized kid just as capable of cruelty and stupidity as any teen. What makes her “not like the other girls” is that she has zero interest in cultivating an image, in pretending to be somebody she’s not. (It’s not so much that she doesn’t want to, it’s that she can’t—like the burn scar on her collar bone, her trauma can’t easily be hidden away. It’s right there on her skin.) This no-bullshit attitude puts her at odds with most of the student body, but for Jae-yi, surrounded by fawning admirers fronting to win her favor, it probably inspires envy...among other feelings. As for Jae-yi, I wasn’t familiar with Hye-ri before watching this series, and knew nothing about her K-pop career, but she certainly brings a pop star charisma to her role. Jae-yi is intensely magnetic. She really is That Bitch. With the twitch of an eyebrow she can completely command your attention. And, as someone who has spent her life mastering the art of bullshit, to the point where she might not be able to recognize her own true feelings anymore, she is the perfect foil to Seul-gi—the bottomless enigma to Seul-gi’s open book. As far as I’m concerned we can jot her name down in the GL history books already, because this is a character for the ages.

Try to tell me this girl has ever done anything wrong, and I will call you a liar and a villain.

The chemistry between these two is electric from the first episode, and it’s also complex, and ever-changing. I hate to turn Us into my personal punching bag, but if you want to see what chemistry can look like when the characters are allowed to have an emotional range, and feel things for each other beyond “love you sweet baby uwu,” here you go. (Of course there is nothing wrong with “love you sweet baby uwu,” and Friendly Rivalry also has its share of lovey-dovey moments. That ball pit scene anyone?? The fireworks???) Even when the plot of FR is impenetrable, the overpowering effect these girls have on each other is crystal-clear. And even when what they feel for each other is a tangle of contradictions, the emotions are specific and vivid. When FR works, it works because this emotional tether is so strong.

Su-bin expertly balances the “scrappy tough-as-nails survivor” side of her character with the “hopelessly whipped for her woman” side.

Unfortunately Friendly Rivalry doesn’t always work. The second half suffers from a serious loss of focus. Seul-gi and Jae-yi’s relationship fades into the background, and the plot seems to go everywhere and nowhere. Twists pile up one after the other, but it becomes harder and harder to understand, let alone care about, any of them. (My trouble understanding the plot had nothing to do however with the high-quality subtitles written by a human being in conversational English.) Amid the endless plot convolutions, the opportunity is lost to make a more pointed critique about how a society based on ruthless competition destroys lives and incentivizes our worst instincts. The subtext is there, but the message could have been much clearer. It doesn’t help that the view we get of Korean society outside the school is so narrow: there’s a hot gangster who exists to give the show some crime thriller flavor, and a drug addict who exists to be a sad victim. I’m not a big fan of how the sexual abuse survivor is handled either. All of these are more plot devices than characters.

I guess they had to throw a bone to the straight girls out there.

Episodes 9-13 almost lost me. But just when I was ready to write the whole series off as a tragic waste of potential, Friendly Rivalry pulled off some last-minute narrative CPR: the writers remembered that this is a show about a relationship, the plot snapped back into focus, and, miraculously, the heart of the story started pumping again. The final episodes don’t justify the messiness of the second half, but they did make me care, and I was surprised by how much I still did. The hold Seul-gi and Jae-yi had on me was as tight as ever.

They should both probably get lots of therapy before they date though.

While it’s nowhere near perfect, I felt a powerful urge to watch Friendly Rivalry all over again as soon as I had finished it, and I don’t feel that way about many series. I can’t say if this is a show that will benefit from a rewatch, or be worse off for it—I might have to post an updated review once my thoughts have settled. On one hand, it’s incredibly dense with symbols, clues, and foreshadowing, and there are layers of significance in the dialogue that are easy to miss. (Not because of bad machine-translated subtitles though!) On the other hand, a rewatch might expose more plot holes and reveal just how much FR is coasting by on charisma and the rule of cool. Either way, I doubt this series will be getting evicted from my brain, or heart, any time soon. Sooo I’m just gonna go ahead and claim this one for the GL canon. We need more stories about fucked-up girls in love made with this level of style, craft, and sheer audacity.

[fandom-monium]

Sweet Poison - Part 1

Summary: In which you don’t recognize the Prince of the Underworld, but your next prey. (AKA a budding friendship and love between a godling and a succubus.)

“I don’t know when I’ll see you again, but if the Fates are kind, I hope it’s soon.”

WC: 1k

TW: Zagreus (Hades Video Game) x Succubus!Reader, GN!Reader, a succubus AND an artist bc sex is just work and food, au where in game Zag commissions the paintings using gems, what if boons actually affected Zagreus, slow build, strangers to friends to lovers trope, sex work, fluff, fluff and humor, mutual pining, idiots in love, mild angst, pheromones, technically it’s succubi magic aura, smut, oral sex, penis in vagina sex, vaginal sex, blowjob, cunnilingus, foreplay, squirting, overstimulation, vaginal fingering, rough sex, soft sex, dirty talk, size difference, Zagreus is at least 6 ft convince me otherwise, cream pie, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, EVENTUAL SMUT

AN: i recently bought Hades and now im in love ahahaha. 

In this context succubi feed off cum and if they overfeed they risk killing their victims includes but not limited to shades in which case they consume their souls or smt. 

Supposedly in latin succubus is a term for tops while incubus are bottoms and concubus are switches

—

In your defense, you don’t keep up with godly politics.

That’s not to say you’re uneducated. You know the basics: who the Olympians are, who Lord Hades is—hell, you have him to thank for giving you the greatest job in the world—but anything that involves delving any deeper into the ever-complicated and drama-filled family they are, you have no interest. So when a man with messy black hair and hellhound skulls on his shoulder winds up in your domain, you don’t see Underworld royalty but your next meal.

Alright, time to get to work.

You hide away most of your physical succubus-traits like muscle memory, hardly thinking as your horns, wings, and tail disappear in an instant. The only telling sign you’re not human: your eyes, with vertical-slit pupils against (your eye color) irises.

“Uhhh hi,” He greets you when he notices you across the chamber. He’s got his hand halfway up to his mouth, cupped with the revitalizing water of the fountain residing by the far wall. You tilt your head curiously, raising a brow at his tone, amicable and unafraid, and his smile, friendly and almost open, despite having barely registered your presence. And towards a creature like you.

Handsome and strange. You should have known. Those two usually go hand in hand.

The thought makes you return his smile. “Normally, I would welcome newcomers, but you do realize that’s my fountain you’re drinking out of?”

“Your fountain?“ Bruised and calloused hands go slack, and the water splashes back into the bowl. He sounds incredulous, as if you can’t possibly own something, and it makes you bristle.

But you’re a professional.

You scoff, “Well, not mine mine, as everything in the Underworld belongs to Lord Hades, but this one specifically is for my use.”

“… I see. My apologies,” You almost accept it, if not for the way his lips twitch like your statement is humorous. Still, he takes a step back, respectful of your supposed property. "In that case, might I ask you to grant me a sip?”

Apologizing. Asking. Not even demanding but politely asking for permission, even if he doesn’t seem to believe you. Gods, he truly doesn’t know where is, or at the very least, what you are.

You suppress a chuckle: you can work with this.

“You know what? Go ahead, you look like you can use the drink,” You say and he glances down at himself, taking in the gash on his shoulder, the burns, the blood. (Most of it isn’t even his.) Usually, you’d jump straight into your main course but no matter. Meat tastes much better when properly prepared anyway.

His smile broadens, “Thank you, good shade.”

You don’t bother to correct him, just as you don’t ask for his name. Seems pointless, considering you’re going to consume him soon enough.

He leans over the fountain’s rim and brings a handful of water to his lips. Your eyes trail after the few stray droplets dripping down his chin, down his neck, as most of the wounds stop bleeding, close up, or even disappear altogether, Your stomach rumbles softly.

“So,” Your reflection ripples in the water as he glances up at you across the basin. Studying him, you cross your arms over your chest, cleavage accentuated by your chiton as your natural aura seeps through little by little in a constant stream. Too quick and the man will convulse on the floor before you can even get a taste. Don’t want to drive the man into madness yet. “What’s someone like you doing in this corner of Tartarus?”

If he’s trying to keep his eyes above your collar, you can’t tell as he straightens up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Someone like me?”

“Yes. Most poor souls sent my way aren’t so…” You round the fountain and circle him, his eyes following after you as you gesture to his—well, everything. Nothing about him screams disgusting sinner per se, but that doesn’t necessarily make him Elysium-worthy.

He stares at you inquisitively. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to, but I wasn’t sent here by anyone. Not technically anyway. The Underworld’s an ever-shifting labyrinth; I usually go where it leads me, and fortunately it’s led me to your fountain.”

You stop before him, and he lets you absentmindedly prod one of the hellhound skulls. You smile wryly, “Fortunate, yes.” For me, perhaps.

“And what of you, dear shade?”

You retract your hand, blinking up at him. “Pardon?”

“You seem to have made a home for yourself. Lovely, I must say,” He looks around your chamber, from the drapes by the balcony entrance to the green flames licking at your fireplace to the many canvases, one of them half-finished and perched on your easel. He steps around you, and you trail after him as he moves to examine the black and white details. “Did you do all these yourself?”

Your eyes flicker over him, suspicious. “Y-yes, I did.”

He turns to you, and you’re taken aback as your gaze meets steady, heterochromatic eyes, so much so you know he’s being genuine as he asks, “They’re magnificent. Are you a deity of the arts perhaps?”

“O-oh, thank you, but I’m not…” You clear your throat, “It’s just a hobby, something to pass the time.” When I’m not consuming the souls of sinners.

Warmth blooms across your cheeks, and you purse your lips at your stutter. You’re used to flattery, so how would this be any different? Your food never took notice of their surroundings, much less your work.

Then again, they always were too enraptured by your aura.

Sneaking of which, why isn’t he?

You eye his form, watching for the slightest hint he’ll double over with a raging hard-on as your aura releases, more intense than before. Still, he continues, admiring your paintings, your sketches, half-finished works you left on the back burner. Is he truly unaffected by you?

Before you can add anything else, he’s at your balcony, overlooking the lower levels of Tartarus. “Well, I can’t wait to see more next time.”

…Next time???

“Next time?”

A hand on the balustrade, he glances at you over his shoulder and grins, “I don’t know when I’ll see you again, but if the Fates are kind, I hope it’s soon.”

Then he leaps.

You shout, rushing over to the railing where he last stood. Dead or not, the impact will hurt like hell. (Favorite color) wings sprout out of your back. You’re fast enough, you can still—

Stone rumbles, and you peak over the railing, unable to contain the relieved sigh seeing the man—strange and handsome and strange—safely standing on the platform below your chamber, unharmed. No fall damage.

Of course you knew that was there. Obviously.

Once he disappears behind the door, his burning feet leaving scorch marks in the brick stone path, you finally let out your horns and your tail.

—

AN: you’ll never catch me using Y/N. Y/N is dead, there is only (Your Name).

This will have at least 5 parts. This is basically a mini series of Zagreus and Succubi!Reader as they becomes friends (and eventually lovers :D)

Part 2 coming soon~

[kfkr1ze]

[002-A26] All Grown-ups, were Once, [1]

Summary — ✈︎ Kaede felt relieved after successfully completing the summer festival. He decides to reward himself with some sweets and local sake as a way to enjoy the remnants of Shodoshima.

Characters— ✈︎ Sakujiro, Akuta, Ushio, Nanaki, Muneuji, Kiroku, Kafka

Location: HAMA House - Living Room

Kaede: Phew… I feel so refreshed. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to have a nice, relaxing bath like that.

(I’ve been so caught up with the kids lately… I think I did pretty well for such an unfamiliar job.)

So that meansーー I definitely deserve a bit of a reward!

Udon snacks and olive oil rice crackers! Wasanbon sweets! And of course, local sake!

Well then, time to eat! Munch munch… S-So delicious…!

The refreshing scent of olive oil hits your nose first, and then you’re hit with a savory scent next! It’s such a satisfying taste, yet it’s not heavy at all!

When you combine that with such appetizing smells, you can’t stop yourself from taking another bite…!

(Just yesterday, we were still in Shodoshima, having all the fun in the world. It feels like it was already a week ago…)

…It’s so quiet now.

Sakujiro: It seems like you are reminiscing about the time in Shodoshima.

Kaede: S-Sakujiro-san. Sorry, was I talking to myself too loud…?

Sakujiro: Not at all. I simply came to get a drink while taking a break from my office work.

Kaede: …Ah, right. What about the study trip report cards for the 5 students?

Sakujiro: I am currently in the process of grading them.

Kaede: (Those scores determine whether or not they can become Ward Mayors…)

(Those 5 problem children who are at the bottom of the school caste system…)

I can feel myself getting more nervous for them…

Sakujiro: On the contrary, it seems the students in question have forgotten about it themselves.

Kaede: Ahaha, yeah it seems like itーー ……

Sakujiro: What is the matter?

Kaede: Ah, nothing… It’s just, at first, they were all so unenthusiastic and unmotivated. But in the end, everyone pulled together and worked really hard. It just made me really happy.

Sakujiro: Indeed. They all showed such incredible will. 

Kaede: …I felt the same way they did in high school. I knew that I had to be prepared for any failures or mistakes that might happen when I get olderーー

How are you supposed to come to terms with it when something like that actually happens to you…?

Watching those kids made me realize that I might have grown accustomed to feeling bittersweet about these types of situations instead of doing something about it.

Sakujiro: …Yes, that is completely true.

I myself have never been able to be passionate about hopes or dreams like they are able toーー

I am glad I brought my sunglasses with me on the trip to shield my eyes from the brightness that they shine.

Kaede: Ahahaha! Seriously!

Sakujiro: That is also the case now, with you right in front of me.

Kaede: What are you talking about? I think it’s fine to keep searching for your own hopes and dreams, even if it takes the rest of your life.

I’ve seen a bunch of elderly people tell me, “I used to think it was a hassle to travel, but as I grow older, I’ve grown to love it,”with a big smile on their face.

Sakujiro: Oh? That’s wonderful. I envy them.

However, while there may be many people who can find those dreams well into the middle of their life, there may also be people who can not.

Kaede: ……

Sakujiro: ? Chief, this is…

Kaede: For you. It’s the tastiest sweet thing I have.

Sakujiro: …Thank you very much. I will accept this and your feelings along with it.

Kaede: Andーー If those kids manage to become Ward Mayors, they might be able to start a revolution within their caste system, so please keep this gift in mind…!

Sakujiro: Unfortunately, I will not accept any bribes. I will be grading them without a bit of bias in my heart.

Kaede: Kh…!

Sakujiro: Well then, I shall be getting back to my work now. I will see you tomorrow.

Kaede: Yeah, see you tomorrowーー

(I’m sure it’ll be fine, if it’s those kids…)

Location: Hama Asunaro High School Community Revitalization Club Room

Akuta: Yooo, I’m here〜！ It’s been like two days since we last saw each other〜 How’ve you all been〜? Yayayy!

Ushio: You’re so damn loud in the morning… Stop doing weird dances and just close the door already. You’re letting all the cold air out.

Akuta: Today’s the day we get our grades right〜？ I’m SO excited! I thought I’d be so nervous that I wouldn’t be able to sleep, but I slept like a baby!

Nanaki: Ahh, that excitement is making me feel a bit nostalgic, like I’m back in Shodoshima.

Muneuji: Yes. It’s been quite a bit since we last met. My heart is pounding with excitement.

Nanaki: Mine definitely isn’t.

Ushio: Honestly I don’t even care about being a Ward Mayor. I almost wanna fail. It’d be so much of a hassle if I passed.

Muneuji: Neither of you are honest in the slightest.

Nanaki: Ehh?

Ushio: …I am, though.

Akuta: Ahaha〜 It’s so funny when you act like a stereotypical tsundere, Ushio〜!

And, why are you in depression mode, Kiroku?

Kiroku: …………

Ushio: He just found out about the egg’s unfortunate fate. Poor thing.

Muneuji: I know that you were particularly attached to the egg. Please don’t worry, I’m sure that it’s living happily with all the sea anemone in the ocean.

Kiroku: …………

Ushio: C’mon, it’s time to get over it already. It’s so humid and your depressed aura is making it worseーー

Kaede: Good morning, everyone!

Sakujiro: Good morning.

Akuta: Mornin’, Sensei and Kari-sen. I got the perfect hairstyle and fit for today… Hm?

Who’s that〜? Behind you guys.

Ushio: ………

Kiroku: ………

Sakujiro: Splendid. It took you all merely one second to quiet down.

Today is the day of the anticipated announcement of the grades from the study trip in Shodoshima. But, I would like to discuss something before that.

Allow me to introduce you. This man behind me is the CEO and President of HAMA Toursーー

Kafka: Nice to meet you all, students who are at the bottom of the school caste system. I’m Oguro Kafka.

Nanaki: ………

Kafka: Today, I’d like to talk to you all about something that hasn’t been explained yet.

It’ll be a bit long, so please bear with me. ーーChief Kaede, could you show the holography data?

Kaede: Of course!

Kafka: As Chief has explained before, HAMA isn’t doing well as a designated tourism zone. To be frank, it’s on the brink of decline.

We at HAMA Tours aim to improve this situationーー

Ushio: ………

Kaede: (As expected of Kafka… He’s really good at explaining things… Even Ushio-kun is listening to him intently without making any snarky comments. I should learn from him…)

Kafka: …And that’s why we were looking for friends to join us in livening up HAMA. I would be thrilled if you guys would join us.

Kiroku: ………

Kafka: ーーNow, as to why we chose you all as candidates.

Kaede: (That’s something that even I don’t know…)

Kafka: When my mother was alive, she was close with “relatives” of the principal. So, I decided to ask him who would be good candidates for the Ward Mayor position from an educator’s perspective. 

Muneuji: …The principal…

Ushio: What’s up, Muu-chan?

Muneuji: …It’s nothing.

Kafka: I thought that choosing students who had “room for improvement” was a sensible decision. Since, personally, I like the potential that lies in imperfection.

So, after much consideration, you all were decided on as candidates.

Previous — ✈︎ Masterlist — ✈︎ Next

Notes — ✈︎

Title is from “The Little Prince”! The original line says “All grown-ups were once children... but only few of them remember it.”

[voidcat]

knock knock yes hello i’d like to know abt that narumi x medic!reader wip if u don’t mind -w- and of course the kaiser wip too <3

hello hello sweetiepie rye:3 i never mind when it's you <3

hmm with the narumi wip reader's medic identity is to set smt in the beginning and isnt as important tbh. it's an accidental workplace meet cute basically. at the hospitals, as staff we usually take some unusued and unlabeled rooms to be ours. if it has a sink of sorts, with few gadgets and devices, we turn them into rest rooms / impromtu kitchens basically ahahaha

so medic reader and the medical crew has smt similar at the hq. which narumi runs into while escaping the wrath of hasegawa (are we even surprised). reader was preparing to make pizza for a colleague's exciting news to celebrate so that first moment of someone who likes to be alone to cook vs someone who's often aloof and doesnt pay others any attention is their initial meeting and the rest builds up from there. narumi pretends to play games on his phone and watches reader the whole time and yes he devours half the pizza so poor reader has to bake more to make up for the loss.... i think the rest of medical staff does try to ban narumi from their wing bc he starts often crashing at their break room as if its his own😭😭 from then on few more minor moments of truly seeing one another and basically thats all fdukhgfkıhfkd

for kaiser.... eh this one's more self indulgent for sure but not fully focused on him if it makes any sense. reader is there at first as part of a program they had joined with few others but decides to stick around after it ends. some talks with ness regarding magic in the world and science not being what his family makes it out to be and whatnot. some minor talks with noel noa (he lets you have his chocolate pudding on friday evening meals ^^) noel does keep reader around bc he wants to see how an outer influence will affect the u20 team and reader does treat them like rats observed in an experiment at the beginning so it does work out somehow 💀 (also insulting football as a sport to noel noa's face.....) so few prominent scenes with ness and then with kaiser (if u saw my prev message abt calling kaiser a "despicable human" and him just focusing on the "human" part of the insult and not the rest🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ so between kaiser and reader its a little bit of baring their fangs at one another and calling each other out on their respective bullshit. thats what you get for getting inside ness' head (<- kaiser's excuse) idk if i get to this fic it will be more like one of my older typical fics so idk how well it'll do but We Shall See

also theres a drunk dry humping thing in my drafts w him still that i rewrote twice and gave up halfway lol. also i think there was one more i was gonna say here??? but cannot think of it rn 😭 i hope you're having a lovely day wifey, i miss u the kids miss u pls drop the peach boy and come home<3

[sl33paholics]

What's It Like Dating Ghiaccio

Soft!Ghiaccio x Black!female reader

Warning(s): None? Tbh, it's just all silly fluff (maybe a bit of lewd here and there but not explicit)

Since part 5 is based in Italy, expect some Italian imagery + language lol

— Coming across Ghiaccio was pretty funny. Your father owns a cannabis shop which you and your siblings help out. Usually, you guys are never allowed in once sun goes down, but that didn't stop you from coming down to find your father.

— You went down to the basement only to see a group of men and your dad passing each other ziplock bags. "That's cocaine?" You ask, sucking on the lollipop you had as their attention went to you. Your father was stunned and quickly told you to leave. "Y/N!! What did I tell you to not come in here past -" "Father, I'm 24 years old, relax. I'm here to ask if you want pizza since we're ordering."

— Embarrassed he was indeed. You couldn't help but laugh. "Now get OUT!!" "Alright alright, no need to toot your horn." You say, swaying away in your pajamas (I found this cute) going upstairs. Little did you know that a blue haired guy was checking you out, catching the attention of his purple haired teammate. "Checking out the guy who's cooking us drugs daughter seems rather unlike you, Ghiaccio~" He seemed as if he was about to explode, he was fumbling on his words and couldn't say anything other than "Shut UP!!"

Soft!Ghiaccio can't get enough of you. He absolutely adores you. You turned him into a man he thought he'd never be. You did something to him. At one point, he thought you were some sort of stand user using your ability.

Soft!Ghiaccio lowkey loves when you put him in his place. He still has his outbursts and fits around other people, but when he acts that way around you, you quickly shut him up with a smack before pulling him into a hug. You're one person in his life that can pull himself together and talk him through those outbursts, actually listening to him. He can't help but melt.

Soft!Ghiaccio buys you whatever you want. I mean, he's in the mafia after all. You have to tell him from time to time again not to run his bank account to the dirt, but he insists. I mean, he's gifting you stuff like this, that, and the third. Sometimes, it's hard to say no.

Soft!Ghiaccio knows you two have to keep it on the DL. For sure, if your dad finds out he would be livid, if the team finds out, it'll stress him to the bone. If they see him in this submissive state around you, his image would be ruined and KNOWS they would make fun of him forever. But the thrill of getting caught can't help but make him more excited and happy to be in a relationship with you.

Soft!Ghiaccio loves cooking with you. Spending time at your small apartment with soft jazz music playing in the background while you two bond is heaven to him. Making Gnocchi, Ravioli, or Minestrone, it's honestly a better date than he could ever ask for. Especially when he gets time away from his group. Expect him to bring this along once you gave him the heads up.

Soft!Ghiaccio has a hard time showing affection or being romantic in general. You two have completely different lifestyles. He enjoys reciting love poems with you. You can see he's trying his best, which you give him a kiss for his effort. Expect him not to let you go for an hour.

— Translation: You hold me, and I will transform into wonder, in your hands, in the heat, that heat that makes the wheat grow at night. Brings the loved body as a secret life - preserved - under the thick ice of memory. You are dark like a nutshell in the fist crack between worlds. There is silence between you and me. There is pearl. I have you.

Soft!Ghiaccio after sexy time is gonna treat you like a queen. Do you need a massage? The man doesn't mind putting his hands to the test and gripping them thighs, ahahaha. Are you hungry? Don't worry, will prepare a whole meal for you despite having snacks in your drawer. A bath, even? Ghiaccio will make sure to get it ready, quick and span.

Soft!Ghiaccio would crash at your place. Always. Expect him to appear with or without notice. Cuddles. Snuggles. Nibbling on your earlobe. Feeling your soft skin against his rough hands, caressing your cheek, oh my goodness, he feels as if he could never separate himself from you (especially if you have this on) like a cat following its owner around. Spreading himself all over you.

Soft!Ghiaccio can't wait to spend the rest of his life with you. He knows that any day his life would be taken considering the career path he'd choose, Ghiaccio wants to start a family with you. He hopes that you say yes. If you worry that your body won't be able to handle it, the two of you could always adopt. The man wants to make sure you guys are set for life.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #152

I went to the good place today with the nice leader! I was thrilled about being able to give him a jar of lilac syrup! But then I immediately felt very silly, because I didn't think to bring a jar for the piano player. That's okay though; I am hoping that sometime this week, I'll be able to invite him and his partner to Eggcellent; I can give them a jar of lilac syrup then!

I was delighted to see that the leader, so enamored with the syrup and how it tasted, started showing it off to the others in the congregation, imploring them to try some on a spoon! The folks seemed surprised both at the fact that lilac syrup is a thing that exists, and at how good it tastes!

…I really wish I could share some with you. You could put it in tea. Or in yogurt. Or in oatmeal. Or stir it into milk. Or bake it into cookies. It's so versatile! And it tastes exactly like how lilacs smell!

There were lots of good snacks at the place today. I took a picture of the ones I got:

One of the ladies there, knowing how much J likes fruit, prepared a giant bowl of fruit salad. People took what they wanted, and J promptly ate all the rest, as he do, ahahaha! They also give him a fresh loaf of bread; one of the folks at the place is a STELLAR baker, and their bread is some of the best I've ever had the privilege of tasting. J is almost as fond of bread as he is of fruit, and so, because the folks love him so much, if there are extra loaves, they give one to him!

…It's a very loving and delightful group of people!! I feel very lucky!

It was Br's birthday recently, and so today I made gluten-free baked mac-and-cheese for her, because she'll get sick if she eats wheat! I used brown rice pasta and gluten-free crackers! The recipe to make this is very simple…

First, you boil a pound of elbow macaroni. Brown rice pasta works really well for this. When the consistency is good, you strain it and put it in a big baking dish. Then you open a 28oz can of diced tomatoes and toss it in with the pasta. And then you add 8oz of cheddar cheese (extra sharp, this time) and 8oz of a different kind of cheddar cheese (seriously sharp, this time). The result should look like this:

And then you mix it up!! And the result of that should look like this!

Then you just layer the top with crushed crackers. Easy peasy. Bake it in the oven at 350F until it's gooey-looking and slightly toasted on the top, and you've got yourself a mighty tasty snack:

Br cut up and sauteed some pork chops to go with it, too!

…And here is the bowl I assembled!

…I wish, more than anything, that I could share all of the things I love with you, so that you can see that life is not wholly full of pain and despair. I mean… it is full of pain and despair much of the time; there's no doubt about that. But that's why you have to keep your boundary skills robust and be selective of the spaces in which you put yourself. The sparkles of joy are everywhere if you know where to look, what to avoid along the way, and who to call upon for help when you inevitably can't avoid all the things that hurt. There are plenty of folks in this world who will lend you empathy and grace. And I know this because I am such a one, and I am very cognizant of the fact that I am not special.

Hey, Sephiroth? Are you taking care of yourself at the Edge of Creation? Are you safe and warm? Are you eating enough? Are you hydrating? Do you get enough sleep? I know I ask these things a lot; sorry about that. But it's not as though you can answer me, so I guess I get worried.

…I guess I'm worried about you pretty much all the time. I know you've made mistakes, but I still don't want you to be suffering alone somewhere. No one deserves that. None of my biological or step family deserves that. Everyone deserves a chance to heal, to change, and to turn themselves around, no matter the mistakes they've made before.

I know some people will think differently, and probably call me stupid and naive or even a bad person because I think this way. But… if the application of more pain to people who cause pain was gonna cause world peace, it would have happened by now, ya know? It's as you say - the cycle of pain, hate, and violence can only be undone by grace and compassion. It can only be undone by teaching people a better way of expressing themselves, and teaching them to judge themselves and others less. It can only be undone by teaching them to stop associating their self-worth with arbitrary and destructive things. It can only be undone by teaching mercy in combination with robust boundaries.

Well. I hope you're okay over where you are. But all the same… please be safe over there, okay? Please.

I'm gonna stop writing before I start rambling. But I'll write again tomorrow. I love you. Please don't disappear.

Your friend, Lumine

[d-z20]

Oh darling, you won't need a drop of alcohol in my system to seduce me 😏

I love cozy weekends staying at home or going to a friend's house to play board games and drink beer ✨️perfection✨️

Prepare yourself for a videogame rambling, hahaha

I have a switch where I play cozy games like Animal Crossing, Dave the Diver, Mario, Unpacking, etc, and a Play 5, where I play more intense story centre games. I just finished Then Last of Us 2 and started Jedi survivor.

I'm the worst gamer bc I like to achieve everything, do every side quest that comes up so it could be ages before I finish a game 😂😂 also I get frustrated quickly, yelled at the TV and stop playing for a while when a mission gets too hard 😅 -that's why I've never get passed the beginning of Elden Ring-

When I was living with my parents , I got banned for playing in the living room bc I was very loud 🙃 -go Z, make a dirty joke, you're dying to say it-

If I could recommend two games, they would be Little Nightmares (kind of horror, I truly shit my pants in some parts to be honest) and Horizon Forbiden West (open world and action with a badass female lead) the world in this game is just too beautiful <3

Thanks for coming to my ted talk

-🍑

👀 🙃

Ugh that kind of weekend sounds perfect 😍

I’m a PlayStation kinda gamer and absolutely love a story game. I’ve not played Jedi survivor yet but I really enjoyed fallen order so it’s on my to-buy list. I played assassins creed Valhalla as female Eivor and ugh I had a crush on her ahahaha

It’s the damn platinum trophies that get me!!! Some games it’s easy but then you get games like Witcher where you need to complete the story on the hardest difficulty then games Madden or Fallout where there’s just so many niche ones to collect 🥲🥲

Hehehe okay: bet I could make you louder hehe 😈

[toreii]

Lost in the Book with Stitch part 5

Disclaimer: This is a fan translation. I apologize for any mistakes. I’m by no means fluent in Japanese, but I try my best. Please, support the official translation when it comes out.

Uninhabited Island - Beach

Azul: “Everyone.”

Azul: “How about making a deal to help us out of here?”

Riddle: “What do you mean?”

Floyd: “So dense. Why do you believe Azul and I would be in trouble if we came to an uninhabited island?”

Ace: “Ah!? They’re both mermaids…!”

Floyd: “Right. It’s not a big deal to dive into the ocean, and swim to other land.”

Floyd: “That’s why we don’t have any troubles.”

Floyd: “But, what about you guys? If you can’t leave the uninhabited island like this…it’d be a real problem, right?”

Ace: “Greedy~~~! This is extortion!”

Jack: “You’re threatening us even during such an emergency!”

Azul: “You threaten me. I’m just asking ‘What can I do to help?’.”

Azul: “Well, depending on that response, it might be too late to call for help…”

Floyd: “We’re saving your life, so we have to get a reasonable price. Are you going to be our servants for the rest of your life?”

Azul: “No, I’m not a demon, either. Taking into account the situation…”

Azul: “I’ll make a deal with you, ‘When you return to school, you’ll do whatever I say for a week’.”

Floyd: “Wow, Azul is super generous~. That’s such a great deal.”

Jack: “YOU’RE NOT GENEROUS AT ALL!”

Ace: “But, there’s no other choice… If all we have to do is whatever he says for a week, it’s certainly an exceptional condition…”

Riddle: “Ugh…we’re completely in the palm of their hands. It’s frustrating…..I don’t want to nod!”

Lilia: “I don’t mind either way. What will you do, Yuu?”

Yuu:

“I want to go back to school.”

Grim: “Certainly…if I really can’t leave this uninhabited island, I won’t be able to eat tuna cans anymore!”

“I can manage on my own…”

Ace: “…Hey, hey, you’re warming up? Are you planning on swimming to find land!?”

Jack: “Think about it, you can’t do it! Even Grim knows it’s impossible!”

Grim: “Did you just make a fool of me!?”

Grim: “Guh……Alright! I promise to listen to you! So, hurry up and call for help!”

Floyd: “Aha. Everyone is so honest and good children.”

Floyd: “Then, I’ll revert back to a mermaid and swim. For the coconut crabs who can barely swim♡.”

Riddle: “Who’s a coconut crab? Stop looking so smug!”

Lilia: “Still, the power of mermaids is certainly reliable in the sea. They’ll find land in no time, and come back.”

Azul: “Right. I’ll bring help, so please relax.”

Floyd: “Then, we’re going.”

*SPLASH*

Lilia: “Now then. Those two dived into the sea, and we’re a glowing beach flag…” (T/N: I’m going to assume that Lilia means they’re all wearing bright colors, and can be easily seen. I spent like five minutes staring at the words “beach flag” unsure of what he meant.)

*Splash*

Lilia: “Hm?”

Grim: “Huh, Azul and Floyd are back.”

Ace: “Eh, isn’t it too soon to find land…wait, you two haven’t turned into mermaids.”

Jack: “What happened? You have scary faces.”

Azul: “…I can’t go back.”

Ace: “Huh? Go back? What do you mean?”

Azul: “I’M SAYING I CAN’T GO BACK INTO A MERMAID!”

Everyone: “HUH!?”

Floyd: “Something’s wrong with this outfit…it sticks to my body, and I can’t take it off.”

Floyd: “I thought these were just cool clothes, but maybe they have magic.”

Floyd: “Because of that, I can’t turn into a mermaid. Ahahaha, what a strange thing~.”

Floyd: “It's refreshing to swim in human form. I thought a uninhabited island would be easy and boring, but it might be interesting!”

Lilia: “Right, right! An uninhabited island in extreme conditions is fun. There’s no time to be bored.”

Lilia: “That’s right……should we prepare a campfire first?”

Floyd: “I like it~. Seems interesting.”

Azul: “THIS ISN’T FUNNY AT ALL!”

Azul: “The phones have no signal. The sky is no good, the sea is no good. This is an uninhabited island with no people. So then……”

Riddle: “…Do you mean that we’ve completely lost any form to seek help from the outside world?”

Everyone: “…………”

Ace: “Huh? No, no, that……eh?”

Ace: “We really can’t leave this island?”

Ace: “………You’re kidding, right?”

Jack: “T-There could be other ways!”

Jack: “It’s useless to fly high, but maybe low at sea level, we might be able to escape.”

Riddle: “Of course. We shouldn’t give up so easily. Okay, let’s keep on trying.”

Azul: “T-That’s right.”

Azul: “This is no problem at all. I’m sure we’ll find a way to escape this island soon.”

Grim: “I’ll also look for a way to escape!”

To be continued…

[emyluwinter]

If you play, seen or heard Twisted Wonderland the White Rabbit Festival have you seen Decue mom if kind hot if was guy marry her or ask her out.

Always it's cute that yuu knows how to play bugle

Hello, my dear!

Sorry it's going to be a long post, I just want to discuss this event.

Yes, I am following the latest updates of the game! This event is charming from which side not to look. There are many references to Alice and the white rabbit. A whole city dedicated to him and the clock! I wonder if there are still cities that carry the "symbol" of a particular character from Disney cartoons. Ace's hometown is the city of "magicians"? Magic artisans? Or the most ordinary city? We need a separate book with more extensive information on the TWST world and characters.

A funny detail, but the event begins with "being late", just like the appearance of the white Rabbit from Alice, who was also in a hurry somewhere and was late.

OH YES!! I was pleasantly surprised that they showed us Mrs. Spade!! Because of the problems with the difference of languages, I can't be sure how to pronounce and write her name correctly. Dilla? Dira? Someone suggested that this is a reference to "Dina" - the cat that Alice had from the cartoon. (It remains to wait to see the rest parents…)

June - a month when they were preparing the documents for marriage with the young (fairy General Gunster) Lilia Vanrouge. July - the month when everyone wants to marry Mrs. Spade. Ahahaha. August - who will be next for the bonds of marriage and a happy family life?

Now we know that Deuce inherited his beauty from his mother. I think her hair is "Highlighted" if I remember correctly, and not gray. Maybe Deuce used the paint when he was a bully that his mother had. Because the color is very suitable. And she has an ear piercing! Quite non-standard for a lady and I really love this detail.

I still laugh so much when someone of the authors tries to "bring together" Lilia and Mrs. Spade. Due to the fact that both cherish their children and they both single parents.

I completely agree that this amazing woman deserves all the best. My favorite part of the event is where she tells all the awkward moments from his son's life.

DEUCE WAS TELLING ABOUT YUU GRIMM AND ACE TO HIS MOM!!

*SOLEMNLY* AND I TOLD YOU THAT THESE TWO TELL EVERYTHING TO THEIR FAMILIES!! It warms my heart so much.

No one can convince me that Deuce spent a lot of time at his Mother's work when he was little, and most likely sat on his mother's lap while Miss Spade had a break and "imagined" that he was a truck driver. Even if the engine is turned off, Dilla removed the keys and Deuce did not reach the pedals with his baby feet. To the little "rabbit" Deuce was definitely having fun.

I love it so much when Toboso-sensei introduces female characters to the plot. And they blow up the fandom brighter than any overblott. Give me a game/manga/comic by Tobosa-sensei with a purely female collection and I can retire.

Oh yes!It was a bit unexpected! Because the official information about the gaming Yu is very small. Literally collecting bread crumbs among wheat..

I think this is some kind of reference. Even a few!

Mickey Mouse could play a lot of instruments.

The piano appears quite a lot where (Azul would be surprised), there is also a trumpet and a horn, a violin (Hello Malleus)! And a lot of other tools. For example, in the 1931 cartoon THE DELIVERY BOY, Mickey plays the trumpet and Piano. (funny reference because Mrs. Spade works in delivery)

And he could also conduct an entire orchestra!

"Music" unites everyone regardless of any differences among people. Just like Yuu, they have the ability to "unite" and force NRC students to cooperate. It is a very good comparison that each instrument must follow a single musical note and the instructions of the conductor in order to create a symphony or music.

It could also be a reference that Yuu could have learned music from the Ghosts from the dorm. The same 1937 cartoon Lonely Ghosts.

The ghosts played wind instruments and a drum.

If you look, you can find so many references that the head will go rough.

It will be extremely funny to find out that Yuu is easily given to learn any musical instruments, and Azul could not get this ability.

I will add from myself, this is purely my invention. The game Yu has the following skills.

-Photography, very good pictures. Even won the second place in the competition! (Personal history of Rook card from the Portland event) -Repair and creation of things - guest room. You need to have a good enough imagination to create things. -Cooking - Chapter 7 Yuu mentioned that they often cooked in their dorm.

-Music. - the current event and the event with Epel. -Painting. - I'm haunted by the easel in their bedroom. Most likely they draw well.

[sassy-radio-hazbin-queen]

·

Sinner Sanctuary pilot episode

We hear an angelic voice singing

🎶

At the end of the rainbow there's happiness

And to find it, how often I've tried

But my life is a race

Just a wild goose chase

And my dreams have all been denied

Why have I always been a failure

What can the reason be

I wonder if the world's to blame

I wonder if it could be me

I'm always chasing rainbows

Watching clouds drifting by

My schemes are just like all my dreams

Ending in the sky

Some fellows look and find the sunshine

I always look and find the rain

Some fellows make a winning sometime

I never even make a gain

Believe me

I'm always chasing rainbows

Waiting to find a little bluebird

In vain 🎶

The song ends and there standing on a balcony is a beautiful angelic looking girl. Her Name is Vaggie and she was once an Angel. Her eyes fill with tears as she watches the denizens of Hell pick up each other's dead bodies. She looks to a chiming clock tower indicating that Extermination day was now over. She sighs. She needs her plan to work now or never.

________________________________

A weird looking bug guy falls from the sky" I'm alive"! He exclaims happy. " I'm alive, I'm" he gets squished by a car. The door opens and a tall deer like creature comes out of it. " Thanks for the Fun time BAMBI"! an owl demon say stretching out the deer demons name. The aforementioned Bambi rolled his eyes. " Yeah yeah listen". He said fluffing up his strawberry red hair. " Keep this discreet do you hear me". He pokes his head in the window" I can't let anyone know I slept with some rando on the streets. It was a quick cash grab got that". He winks. Travis laughs. " Haha whatever you say Slut". He continues to laugh.

Bambi roll his eyes then smiles " You know I didn't really get to eat breakfast today". He starts to grow taller. Terrified Travis guns the engine and speeds away. Bambi pouts. " Oh come on I was only going to eat you a little". He shrinks back and shrugs.

Suddenly a voice calls out " Get your sinner fingers, sinner fingers only 30 dollars". Bambi looked in his wallet before remembering he left it at his ' best friend ' ( boss) place. He makes his fluff a little bigger and sultry walks up to the vendor. " Hey their big guy. Id like to buy a finger maybe". The guy heated up and gave one to Bambi. Who gave it a long suck. " So how much is this again". He purrs.

" oh it's definitely free of charge for you Bambi Starr". The guy says. " Aww thanks sweetie". Bambi blows a kiss and the guy heart beats so fast he burst. Instead of being horrified Bambi licked his lips and picked up the poor demons heart. He was about to take a bite when

" YOINK". Another cannibal grabbed it. " HEY"! Bambi said pissed

" Up yours Grandma". A rock fell on him. " OH NO MY HEART"! Bambi picked up what was left of the heart and groaned. " DAMN IT".

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

Meanwhile in an airship a woman with a dress from the 1900s was laughing as a bunch of tiny Rose like demonesses ran around. This was Lady Rosie. A Cannibal Overlord who wishes to go up more the ranks.

" Soon I will take over the entire pentagram city. There won't be a soul alive in hell to get away from my delicious grasp". She destroyed a rose. " Hell would be mine and they will all know the name of Lady-"

"Old lady"! A voice screamed out.

" WHAT"! Rosie demands. " WHAT DID YOU FLOWER PANSY SAY TO ME"!? Her mouth opens showing rows of sharp teeth.

" That wasn't us miss boss lady". A Rose girl said. A bomb was thrown inside and it exploded sending them all coughing. A short demoness with blond hair and a pink flapper dress laughed. " You better get that fucking machine off my territory. Unless you want me to smash it". A Rose falls dead. " More". Mimsy said.

Rosie: " Oh you want to go flapper girl, well I'm ready to oblige ahahaha". Lady Rosie ignore her beating heart as she prepared her minions to attack the fellow demoness.

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

End of part one of the pilot. I would write the entire thing but my hand is starting to hurt guy 😭.

I'll probably do part 2 tomorrow maybe 🥰