#⚔︎ deliverred

[quartzhearted]

🍪

sorry you said he would wrestle for the most cookie and it sounded like too funny a scenario to pass up so you better fight for that cookie buddy this is for your honor (and a snack)

morion isn't sure what's going on today, but he can't deny his interest.

for some reason, people have been going around the monastery playing games with little cookie sticks. some are chocolate, some are strawberry, others are some weird flavor he can't even imagine. some games are played with anxious, edging movement while others are one-and-done.

the common denominator? people are playing chicken with cookies. this is, like, an honor thing at this point.

morion's down to clown when it comes to competitions. get him riled up enough and he'll do anything for anything---as long as it means he comes out Number One. even for a cookie!

a young man approaches him with one such challenge. he holds a cookie stick between his fingers, but there's a glimmer of fight in the gaze he holds. morion knows it well. he meets it with a smile and a raise of arms.

" y'wanna fight for that thing, boy? " he growls, completely ready to wrestle this man for a snack. " if i take it from ya, it's all mine. get ready. "

[jetblackknight]

Inventory Check

Send ' Inventory Check ! ' to see an item in my muse's inventory, plus a description of what that item is

[inseparableduo]

*are the ones playing the creepy organ music*

[jungkoode]

死 KKANGPAE | #10 死

† wound tight †

"You’re in the Seduction Division, you’re supposed to be the seductress here, not the other way around. But then he falls asleep on your bed, and he suddenly looks so human… The morning brings him back to normal though, as you remain unaware of how thoroughly he has to wash your scent off his skin. And if that wasn’t enough… AD’s cryptic warning seems more acidic than the lemon breeze that wafts off him.

next | index

⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 7k

rating: mature

content: secret rdvz, jeon popping a boner in the most awkward moments, thrill of being discovered, stirring arousal, battling self-control, almost masturbation (m), cryptic warnings, scents that linger too long for their own good

☠ author's note ☠

As promised, chapter 10 delivered the SECOND we hit that goal! Took y'all less than 24 hours on Wattpad which is both flattering and deeply concerning. You're all menaces and I love you, but the bar is officially being raised. I refuse to be bullied by my own readers (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻

MY SLEEPY BOYYYYY (;'༎ຶٹ༎ຶ')

He's so traumatized and I am so mean SORRY *dodges all your punches with the grace of someone who absolutely deserves to be punched*

—Don't worry Y/N, we all feel that way towards Jeon, it's totally normal. The "I want to simultaneously slap him and kiss him" experience is universal. Don't beat yourself up over it (〜￣▽￣)〜

This chapter was a whole cocktail of POVs, I know! But there were so many things happening simultaneously that it just came out like this. Think of it as one of those split-screen moments in action movies except instead of car chases it's just traumatized gang members making questionable life choices.

I must say I'm actually happy with how this chapter turned out because we're finally diving deeper into the spicier themes! The thrill of forbidden attraction! The danger lurking around every corner! The "I shouldn't want this but I REALLY want this" internal struggle! And the sexual tension thick enough to cut with one of V's knives! PEAK FICTION!

Anyway, thanks for reading as always! Your comments sustain me through the dark nights of writer's block and existential dread. Love you all, you magnificent enablers!

⚔ socials ⚔

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tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

You're about to crawl into bed when someone knocks on your door. At 3 AM. Because of course. 

Opening it reveals Jeon standing there like this is totally normal, holding a plastic bag with your hoodie peeking out.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" You whisper-yell, heart immediately kicking into overdrive.

"Just want my jacket ba—" You slap your hand over his mouth before he can finish. 

His lips are warm against your palm and you try very hard not to think about that.

"Are you actually insane?" Your voice drops even lower. "You can't be here!"

"I know." He scowls when you remove your hand. "That's why I want to make this quick."

"Ever heard of morning? You know, when people normally wake up?"

"Not like I'm sleeping anywa—"

A cough echoes from one of the other rooms and your body moves on pure instinct. You grab his wrist and yank him inside before anyone can catch Kkangpae's deadliest assassin lurking outside your door at ass o'clock.

He stumbles, definitely more from surprise than your strength, and his mouth opens—maybe to curse you out—but you slap your hand over it again, gesturing frantically at Yunjin's sleeping form with your free hand.

"Don't," you mouth, somewhere between begging and threatening.

His dark eyes lock with yours, and something electric crackles between you. Your hand is still pressed against his mouth, his skin burning against your palm, and suddenly you're very aware that you just dragged Jeon into your bedroom in the middle of the night.

Shit.

You drop your hand from his mouth, careful and slow. The jacket's on your bed, and you edge toward it like you're approaching a wild animal. Jeon follows, surprisingly quiet for someone who radiates danger like a space heater. Sets the plastic bag with your hoodie by the bed.

Just as you reach for his jacket—because of course this whole mess started with that stupid piece of leather—it slips through your fingers. The thud it makes hitting the floor might as well be a bomb going off in the silent room.

Your heart stops.

"Y/N?" Yunjin's sleepy voice makes your blood run cold.

Pure panic takes over. 

Before you can think it through, you're shoving Jeon onto your bed and climbing on top of him. His hands grab your hips automatically, and you press yourself against him, trying to make his tall frame disappear under yours.

You yank the blankets over both of you, praying they hide his shape. Your heart's beating so hard you're sure Jeon can feel it where your chest meets his. The whole situation would be m̶o̶r̶t̶i̶f̶y̶i̶n̶g̶ dangerous if you weren't so terrified of getting caught.

"Everything's fine," you whisper-call back. "Just dropped the jacket."

Jeon's frozen underneath you, every muscle locked tight. You can feel his chest rising and falling, his breath hitting your neck in controlled bursts. He's warm—too warm—and solid in all the places you're trying very hard not to think about.

"'Kay..." Yunjin mumbles. "Sleep soon..."

You nod uselessly in the dark, too aware of Jeon's hands still gripping your hips. Moonlight catches his eyes, and even in the shadows, his gaze burns into yours with an intensity that makes your stomach flutter.

This is fine. Everything's fine.

But it's like time itself freezes. 

You hold your breath as Yunjin shifts in her bed, the sheets rustling before she settles back into sleep with a soft sigh. You stay perfectly still, counting heartbeats, waiting to make sure she's really out.

When her breathing evens out again, you let yourself relax—as much as anyone can relax while straddling Jeon in the middle of the night. The room goes quiet except for your matched breathing, and suddenly the blanket cocoon feels very small, very intimate.

You lift your head slowly, trying to minimize movement, and fuck—his face is right there, barely inches from yours. His dark eyes catch what little moonlight filters through the blanket, and there's something in them beyond the usual annoyance. 

Something that makes you almost sigh.

"Don't move," you breathe, barely a whisper. "Just... wait till she's deeper asleep."

The silence feels thick enough to choke on. Because everything seems to shrink to this moment: the warmth of his hands on your hips, how solid his chest feels against yours, the way his breath mingles with yours in the tiny space between you.

His eyes dance upwards, gaze locking with yours momentarily. 

Then it drops to your mouth—for a split second—before snapping back up, and your whole body tingles like you've been shocked.

This is insane. This is really fucking insane. 

How his fingers press into your hips, how your thighs are bracketing his sides, how close your faces are.

You can see little details you've never noticed before, like the faint freckles across his nose you've somehow ignored all this time. 

You don't know why you seem to catalog that information.

But you do know why your heart pounds so hard you're sure he can feel it where your chests meet. 

Because you can say whatever, but he's definitely hot. And this is dangerous. 

So, so dangerous.

Jeon shifts under you—just barely, but enough to make you notice how tense he is. His whole body feels impressively stiff, and you ponder if he's really as unbothered by this position as he's trying to act.

You need to focus. Need to ignore how his eyes look softer in the dim lighting, or how his hands seem the perfect fucking size on your hips. There must still be some remnants of vodka on your body that making it hard to think about anything except how close he is.

"Jeon," you breathe against his cheek. "You need to—"

He moves again, more obviously this time. 

You lose your balance for a split second, shifting to catch yourself, and—oh.

Oh fuck.

"Shit—" The word hisses out between his teeth like he's been burned.

You want to die. 

You want to drown.

Because that's definitely his cock pressing against your ass through the thin cotton of your pajamas. 

A tiny gasp escapes before you can stop it as everything clicks into place—why he's so tense, why his breathing sounds so controlled.

He's hard. 

You freeze, heart thundering in your chest. This was already dangerous, but now it's dangerous dangerous. You try to tell yourself it's just biology, just a normal reaction to having someone straddling him. Nothing personal.

He's just a guy, after all. These things happen.

That's what you tell yourself, but it's getting real hard to think straight when you can feel exactly how hard Jeon is underneath you.

And why does that knowledge give you chills? 

This is Jeon—the guy who's been nothing but cold and distant since day one. Mr. Perfect Sniper with his perfect control, dick hard just because you're straddling him.

It shouldn't be hot.

You shouldn't find it hot.

But then again... you're already thinking about how easy would be to shift your hips, to feel more of that thick line pressing against you. 

You could play it off as getting comfortable, just an innocent adjustment. 

Your body practically vibrates with the urge to move.

But no. No. You're not that desperate. This is just adrenaline and proximity making you stupid.

Except... you can't make yourself pull away. His warmth seeps through your thin pajamas, and when did his eyes get so gentle? You've never seen him look like this—all that ice melted into something darker, hungrier.

That goddamn silver chain around his neck catches some light, drawing your eyes to where his black turtleneck hugs every muscle. You wonder if his tattoos extend past what you can see, if his skin is as hot everywhere else as it is under your palms.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out how right he feels under you. But the question burns in your mind anyway, dangerous and tempting:

What if?

You jerk away from him like you've been burned, the what if still echoing in your head. Your heart slams against your ribs so hard you're surprised Yunjin can't hear it from her bed.

Now you're lying next to him, shoulders touching, and his body heat feels like it's trying to brand you. 

Embarrassment hits you in waves, hot and suffocating. 

What the actual fuck just happened?

You're supposed to be better than this. You're in the fucking Seduction Division—you're trained to be the hunter, not the prey. You're the one who's supposed to make people fall apart with a look, not the one getting flustered over an accidental boner pressed against your ass.

But here you are anyway, frozen like a rookie, your body still tingling everywhere he touched you. The ghost of his hardness against you refuses to fade, and you hate how your stomach flips at the memory.

"Get it together," you whisper to yourself, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

You close your eyes, take a big breath, willing your heart to slow the fuck down.

The minutes crawl by as you listen to Yunjin's breathing, waiting for it to even out into sleep. And when her breaths finally turn deep and rhythmic, you allow yourself to relax slightly.

Time to end this disaster.

"Jeon." You elbow him gently. "Coast is clear."

Nothing.

You frown, poking him harder. "Jeon, get up."

Still nothing. 

Annoyance bubbles up in your chest, mixing with something that feels dangerously close to concern. You turn carefully, trying not to make noise, and—

This motherfucker fell asleep.

The notorious Chief of Tactical Assassinations, Kkangpae's deadliest sniper, passed out in your bed like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Perfect. Just perfect.

You almost want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Here you are, having a whole crisis, and this asshole just... falls asleep. The audacity.

You let out a long breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. You should be planning how to get him out without anyone noticing, or worrying about what happens if someone catches you. Instead, your traitorous brain keeps replaying how his hands felt on your hips, how his breath hitched when you—nope. Not going there.

You turn around slightly, noticing the little details of his face. You've never seen him like this before. All those sharp edges are soft in sleep, his usual scowl smoothed away. His stupidly long eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks, and his chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm that's weirdly hypnotic.

Something twists in your chest. It's strange seeing him so... vulnerable. 

No ice-prince mask, no walls—just...

Jeon.

You can't help but stare a little. It's not every day you get to see him with his guard down. Not that you want to see him like this. He's still an ass. A very attractive ass who's currently making little sighing noises in his sleep, but still an ass.

The anger from earlier starts to fade, replaced by something d̶a̶n̶g̶e̶r̶o̶u̶s̶ inconvenient. You blame it on the late hour and leftover adrenaline from earlier. Because you definitely don't care about how peaceful he looks right now, or how his hair falls across his forehead in a way that makes your fingers itch to brush it back.

You sigh in defeat. No way to wake him without risking Yunjin catching you, which means you're stuck with your division chief in your bed until morning. 

Ideal, really.

You pull the blanket up over him carefully, definitely not caring about waking him up. It's just common courtesy. You'd do it for anyone.

Right.

Sleep tugs at your eyes as the adrenaline crash hits. Your last thought before drifting off is that Jeon better not snore, or you're smothering him with a pillow, Council member or not.

What a fucking mess. 

Jungkook drifts into consciousness slowly, which is... strange. Usually his body snaps awake like a rubber band, heart racing from whatever nightmare decided to visit. 

But this morning feels different. Peaceful. His mind is oddly quiet.

Then the cold hits him—an empty space beside him where warmth should be. His eyes flutter open, adjusting to unfamiliar shadows. 

This isn't his room. 

The realization shoots through him like ice water.

He bolts upright, heart finally doing that familiar panicked dance against his ribs. Everything's wrong—the walls are too close, the air too soft. Even the smell is different. No pine or wood here, just something milky and spiced that makes his insides whirl.

His eyes scan the room frantically, survival instincts kicking in as he—

Oh. 

Oh right.

Last night. 

The jacket exchange. The whispered arguments. You shoving him onto your bed when Yunjin almost caught you two. The weight of you on top of him, how his body betrayed him, the way you felt pressed against—

Jungkook cuts that thought off sharply. More important is the fact that he slept. Actually slept, without a single nightmare tearing him awake. No blood-soaked memories, no echoes of gunshots, no accusing eyes. 

Just... peace.

He sits there, trying to process this impossibility. His fingers find his lip ring automatically, playing with it as his mind races. 

When was the last time he slept through the night? 

Months? 

Years?

But you're gone now, the room empty except for lingering traces of chai tea in the air. Something uncomfortable twists in his chest. 

Where are you?

The thought comes unbidden, unwanted. He pushes it away, along with the memory of how perfectly you fit against him in the dark.

The door opens and you walk in, wearing fresh clothes like this is any normal morning. Jungkook's jaw clenches automatically. Your casual confidence grates against his nerves, reminding him that he's somehow let himself get tangled in something he can't control.

This isn't how things are supposed to work. His world operates on precision, on distance. On rifles and gunshots and detachment. 

But here in your room, surrounded by vanilla and chai tea and you, all his careful walls feel paper-thin.

You look at him and he feels exposed, like you can see right through him. His hair falls messily into his eyes, a far cry from his usual slicked-back perfection. He knows he must look disheveled, vulnerable in a way that makes his skin crawl.

"Good morning, thundercloud."

Your voice is gentle, warm and buttery like the aroma you embody. He manages a nod and a vague sound of acknowledgment, the nickname washing over him without really landing. His brain feels fuzzy, slow—but not in the usual way, not with the sharp edges of sleep deprivation and nightmares.

For the first time in... he can't even remember how long, his mind isn't screaming with V's cold glare or AD's hatred. 

Something coils in his stomach. 

"What time is it?" The question comes out rougher than intended, an attempt to ground himself in something concrete and measurable.

Your presence feels too solid, too real in the soft morning light. Like if he looks at you too long, he'll have to acknowledge how well he slept with you nearby, how the nightmares stayed away for once.

He doesn't want to think about what that means.

Your eyes dart to the digital clock between your and Yunjin's beds, then back to Jeon. You can't help but think he looks weirdly soft in the morning light, all rumpled clothes and messy hair.

"10:30AM."

His eyelashes flutter like he's still processing, then his eyes go wide. You can practically see the moment it clicks.

"What?"

It's weird, seeing him process this. For someone like Jeon, who probably schedules his bathroom breaks, sleeping past dawn must feel like the world's tilted off its axis. 

And truly, the contrast is striking—this is the same man who can take out targets from impossible distances, who makes seasoned gang members nervous with just a look. 

Yet right now, looking like he just rolled out of bed, he looks almost c̶u̶t̶e̶ stupid. 

You can't help but study him while he's too thrown off to notice. The sharp edges of his jawline seem softer, the perpetual tension in his shoulders gone. Even his stormy aura feels rather like a gentle summer brain. 

You wonder what it means that he actually slept here. The man who probably counts sheep with a sniper scope, passed out in your bed like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

But those aren't questions you get to ask, and they definitely aren't ones he'd answer.

Still. It's kind of fascinating, really, seeing Jeon so out of it. Like catching a trick of the great and powerful Oz.

And the thing is... It's a well-known thing, his morning routine. Always first at breakfast, like some kind of deadly alarm clock for the rest of the gang... His empty table by the window is probably sitting there right now, throwing off the whole cafeteria's ecosystem.

You see the exact moment reality crashes in. Ten-thirty means he's missed his usual spot, missed being the first one there. 

It means people must have noticed. 

You drift to the little table by your window, pouring water just to have something to do with your hands. Because there are so many ways this could go wrong. The Chief of Tactical Assassinations sleeping in a recruit's room? That's the kind of scandal that gets people transferred to different divisions—or worse.

"People are gonna notice you weren't at your usual brooding spot this morning."

"I know." His voice is steady, controlled—familiar coldness seeping back in. "I'll handle it."

Something about his confidence settles your nerves a bit. This is Jeon after all—co-leader of the Assassination Division. If anyone can get out of this mess without starting gang-wide gossip, it's him.

Still. The sight of him in your room, black turtleneck rumpled from sleep, is going to be burned into your brain for a while.

"What about your roommate?" His voice is low, tense. 

And okay, it's a bit funny. The fearsome Jeon, worried about getting caught in a recruit's room like a teenager sneaking out past curfew. Sounds like a joke. 

"Training session." You watch his face carefully. "Yunjin left early. Didn't see you."

The relief that washes over him is subtle—just a slight drop in his shoulders, a loosening around his eyes. But you catch it anyway. The last thing either of you needs is gossip about why Jeon spent the night in Seduction.

He sighs like he's been holding his breath all morning, pushing tattooed fingers through his messy hair. You realize it's not often you see him without his usual rings, without that careful polish he maintains. 

It shouldn't be hot. 

It is.

His eyes track from your door to the space outside, probably calculating escape routes like the assassin he is. 

Old habits die hard, apparently.

"Need to get back before people start asking questions." He stands in one fluid motion, and there's the Jeon you know—precisely lethal and absolutely in control.

"Yeah, we should be careful." You try to keep your voice neutral. "This could cause problems if anyone finds out."

His dark eyes meet yours, and silence tickles between you. 

You both know what's at stake here. One whisper about Jeon sleeping in your room could start an avalanche neither of you is ready for.

Kkangpae might feel like family sometimes, but rules are rules. And you've heard enough stories about what happens to people who break them. 

Plus, after last night's revelations about RM's brother and his fiancée's betrayal, the "no attachments" policy makes a lot more sense.

The irony of looking like you have broken that exact rule less than twelve hours after learning why it exists isn't lost on you.

Especially with Jeon, who lives by them like they're written in his DNA. Being on the Council means setting an example, and last night was... an accident. A weird collision of circumstances that shouldn't have happened.

Still, when he pauses at your door, something twists in your chest. You wonder if you'll ever be this close to him again. 

It's probably for the best if you're not.

"Thanks." The word sounds foreign coming from him, like he's not used to saying it.

"For what?" 

"For... not waking me up." His voice drops so low you barely catch it.

"Don't mention it." You try to sound casual, like your heart isn't doing stupid flips. "Looked like you needed it."

He nods, and holy shit, is that...

A smile?

His hand lingers on the doorknob a second too long, which is weird for someone usually so decisive. Then he's gone, slipping into the hallway like a shadow.

The door clicks shut and you lean against it, letting out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Your room feels too big now, too quiet. Like all the air got sucked out with him.

Get your heart out the gutter, bitch. 

This is stupid. Attraction isn't a luxury you can afford in Kkangpae, especially not to someone like Jeon. He's literally the kind of danger that comes wrapped in leather jackets and piercings. 

It's not just his physical skills that make him lethal. It's the way he commands attention without saying a word, how his gaze pins you in place more effectively than handcuffs ever could.

But fuck if that isn't exactly what makes your heart race.

You push away from the door, pacing your room like a caged animal. It's too early for this shit. These thoughts are dangerous—the kind that get people killed in places like Kkangpae. But your brain keeps circling back to the weight of him against you, to that split second when his breathing stuttered.

Focus.

You've seen what Jeon can do. The way he moves like death given form, how people scramble to clear his path in the hallways. It's m̶a̶g̶n̶e̶t̶i̶c̶ terrifying how much power he holds.

He's powerful. Dangerous in a way that shouldn't be alluring.

Your eyes drift to the morning light streaming through your window, painting greenery in soft gold. Out there, people are going about their normal lives, no idea that one of Korea's deadliest assassins just spent the night in your bed. 

And that thought makes you laugh—a weird, choked sound that holds no humor.

Because Jeon isn't just a bad idea. He's career suicide wrapped in pine and tobacco scent. He's everything you should run from if you want to survive in this world.

You keep pacing, trying to outrun the memory of his body pressed against yours, the hard line of his cock against your ass. 

It was just biology, you tell yourself. Basic human reaction to having someone straddle you. Nothing personal.

But god—the way his breath hitched, how his fingers dug into your hips... When was the last time anyone looked at you with that kind of raw hunger? Like they wanted to d̶e̶v̶o̶u̶r̶ destroy you?

Stop it. You're supposed to be the seductress here, not the one getting all hot and bothered over an accidental boner.

You know exactly how Jeon operates, how his division operates. 

He's not the type to lose his cool over something as basic as physical contact. And yet... the way he reacted to you was definitely not part of his usual 'get away from me' persona.

Nah.

You're probably reading way too much into this. Making up some romance novel fantasy about the deadly assassin who secretly wants you. He's probably in his office right now, rolling his eyes at how obviously affected you were. Because this is Jeon—cold, aloof Jeon who can pin a target blindfolded while solving complex math equations in his head.

So his dick got hard. Big fucking deal. He's human, unfortunately equipped with basic biological responses. Doesn't mean anything except that friction plus pressure equals exactly what you'd expect.

But... You bet he'd look fucking hot losing that control, having all that stupid lethality focused entirely on f̶u̶c̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ having you... Your body hums with the memory of his hands on your hips, how easily he could have f̶l̶i̶p̶p̶e̶d̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶o̶v̶e̶r̶ moved you.

And the thing is—it wouldn't have to mean anything, right? Just sex. No feelings, no drama, no breaking RM's precious rules. You're both adults who sometimes need to blow off steam. Simple solution to a simple problem.

Except nothing about Jeon is simple.

Honestly, he's probably already forgotten about the whole thing, while you're here having a whole crisis over how his hands felt on your hips. 

You're just another recruit to him, an inconvenience at best.

Right?

Yet... Maybe he still wants you? Sexually, at least?

Fuck. You don't know anymore.

"For fuck's sake," you groan into your pillow.

Enough. This is pointless. Jeon is who he is—cold, controlled, untouchable. Even if technically hooking up wouldn't break any rules (it's not a relationship if it's just sex, right?), he'd never go for it. Trying to seduce him would be like trying to melt a glacier with a match.

Last night was a fluke. A perfect storm of circumstances that'll never happen again. You need to focus on training, on surviving in this cutthroat world. Focus on anything but how his fingers dug into your skin, how his voice roughened when—

"Fuck," you tell your empty room.

Maybe that's exactly what you need, b̶i̶t̶c̶h̶ though.

The scent of you haunts him like a ghost he can't exorcise.

Jeon slips from your room like a shadow, silent, deathly like he's been trained to. The door clicks shut behind him and he exhales slowly, only now realizing he'd been holding his breath. 

Your scent—chai tea with undertones of something softer, more intimate—clings to his clothes, his skin, his fucking hair. It makes his head spin in a way that's dangerously close to intoxication.

The morning light streaming through the hallway windows hits different somehow. Brighter. Sharper. More real than it has any right to be. Or maybe it's just his sleep-addled brain trying to process the fact that he actually slept through the night. 

No nightmares clawing at his consciousness. 

No haunting memories of thorned roses and blood-soaked floors. 

No phantom voices snarling accusations in his ear.

Just... peace.

Weird, unsettling, unwanted peace.

He needs to move. Questions will start flying if anyone notices his absence from breakfast. Eyebrows raised at the feared assassin missing his usual spot at the corner table, back to the wall, eyes on every entrance. 

The thought makes his jaw clench hard enough to hurt. He needs his quarters, his routine, anything to ground him back in the cold reality he's built for himself.

The common area of the Seduction Division stretches before him like a minefield. His footsteps make no sound as he crosses it—a habit born from years of training and necessity. His ears strain for any sign of movement, any hint that he's not alone—but the silence is clear. 

There's no one around to see him, to wonder why the Chief of Tactical Assassinations is sneaking through the Seduction Division at dawn like some guilty fucking teenager.

His card practically stabs the elevator scanner, urgency making his movements sharp and jerky. The wait feels endless, each second increasing the risk of discovery. The faster he can get back to his floor—back to his world of order and control—the sooner he can forget how w̶e̶l̶l̶ strange it felt waking up in your bed drenched in buttery smells.

As soon as the elevator arrives he steps in, jabbing his floor number with force. The doors slide close, and another wave of chai tea hits him—your goddamn cloying scent. 

It's absurd, how your presence somehow kept the demons at bay when nothing else has worked for years.

No.

He shakes the thought away violently, like a dog trying to dislodge a tick. The elevator descends, and he forces his breathing to slow, to steady. Rebuild the walls brick by brick. Lock away anything resembling vulnerability. 

By the time the doors open, his face is a perfect mask again, all traces of the man who slept beside you locked away behind steel and concrete.

The walk to his room feels longer than usual, each step carrying him further from your door but not from the memory of what happened there. Only when he's inside his quarters, surrounded by the familiar scents of pine and wood that he's cultivated so carefully, does some of the tension leave his shoulders.

He stands frozen in the center of his room, trying to piece himself together. 

But your scent still clings to him, sweet and spicy and maddeningly comforting. Because he can't escape the memory of your body pressed against his, warm and soft in all the places he's been cold and hard for so long.

A groan slips past his defenses as he scrubs a hand over his face. Chai tea has invaded every fiber of his clothing, every pore of his skin. It's suffocating, asphyxiating, and he can't fucking breathe without inhaling more of you.

"Shit," he mutters, fingers fumbling with his shirt buttons with uncharacteristic clumsiness. 

The fabric feels charged somehow, holding the ghost of your curves like some kind of cruel imprint against his skin. He needs to get it off, needs to wash away every trace of you before it sinks in any deeper than it already has.

His clothes hit the floor in a messy heap that would shock anyone who's seen the military precision of his quarters. 

But right now he doesn't care, because he needs to wash off the lingering remnants of your proximity. So he stalks to the bathroom, steps echoing his frustration against the tile floor. 

This shouldn't be getting to him. You're nothing but an annoyance, a complication he never asked for. 

So why can't he shake the feeling of your hands on him, your breath against his neck, your body yielding beneath his?

The shower spray hits like ice, shocking a hiss from between clenched teeth. Good. Let it freeze out the lingering heat of you, the maddening softness that threatens to unravel years of curated self-control.

He braces against the wall, water pounding down his back as he hangs his head. It's been so long since anyone touched him like that. Not since... 

The thought stings, an old wound that never quite closed, still seeping poison into his veins after all this time.

But his body is a fucking traitor because it clearly gives 0 fucks about old wounds or hard-learned lessons. All it knows is the memory of your hips under his hands, your thighs straddling his lap, the perfect curve of your ass that he's caught himself staring at more times than he'd ever admit. Arousal flares hot and insistent despite his best efforts to quash it.

His tongue finds his lip ring automatically, worrying the metal in that nervous tell he can never quite shake. But even this small habit betrays him, reminding him of how your eyes had lingered there, dark with want that mirrored his own.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit. 

It was just biology. Basic human response to friction and warmth and proximity. It's not like he wants to f̶u̶c̶k̶ touch you specifically. It could have been anyone. It should be anyone else.

But lust is a bitch, so naturally, horror floods him as he glances down to find himself hardening—a basic impulse he can't seem to control no matter how much he despises himself for it.

And maybe for one dangerous moment, he considers giving in. Because how long has it been since he last touched himself? 

The memory feels distant, buried under missions and paperwork and endless nights of insomnia, and his hand drifts lower, drawn by the promise of relief after so many months of n̶o̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ numbness.

"Fuck." He jerks his hand back like it's been burned, water droplets flying from his fingertips.

What the hell is he doing? He's the Chief of Tactical Assassinations, not some hormone-driven rookie who can't control his basic urges. You're just an ensign in the Seduction Division, and he's already learned what happens when chiefs get involved with recruits. The scars from last time still keep him up at night, still haunt him every time he closes his eyes.

This isn't him. He doesn't do this—doesn't let physical needs compromise his control. That's V's territory, letting desire override discipline and common sense. Jeon is better than that. Has to be better than that. The alternative is unthinkable.

He cranks the water to ice cold with a snarl, punishment for his body's rebellion. The shock of it steals his breath and sends goosebumps racing across his skin, but at least it kills the arousal. He finishes washing mechanically, movements sharp with self-directed anger that borders on violence.

The freezing air hits him like a slap as he steps out, raising goosebumps across his skin and making his muscles tense. 

Good. The cold helps him think clearly, helps him remember who he is and what's expected of him. 

He dries off quickly and dresses mechanically, creating barriers between himself and the untamed arousal stirring somewhere in the lower regions of his brain.

By the time he emerges from his quarters, he feels like he's back to normal—no trace remains of the man who woke up in your bed. His expression is pure ice, posture rigid, shoulders straight. 

Though if someone were to look deep into his eyes, they'd see them dark and stormy with everything he's trying to bury.

But that doesn't matter, because the Chief of Tactical Assassinations doesn't lose control. 

Not for anyone.

Your body feels like it's been through a meat grinder, and honestly? You're kind of into it.

You drag yourself toward the elevator, muscles screaming in that satisfying way that only comes from getting absolutely demolished during training. 

Kazuha had you doing laps for what felt like eternity, her burgundy hair streaming behind her like some predatory sea creature as she demonstrated "proper form" for the fifteenth time. The chlorine smell still clings to your skin despite the quick shower, and your hair's doing that weird half-damp thing that's going to look like absolute trash in about twenty minutes.

"Swimming builds stealth," she'd said earlier, pushing wet strands from her face with that intense look she gets when she's in full instructor mode. "Helps you move silently. Might save your life someday."

Can't really argue with that. In this line of work, the more ways you know how to not die, the better your chances of, well, not dying. Even if your arms currently feel like overcooked noodles and you're pretty sure your lungs have filed for divorce.

The hallway stretches ahead like a never-ending tunnel. Whoever designed this place clearly had a hard-on for minimalism—all sleek surfaces and indirect lighting. Very "secret criminal organization with excellent taste," which you suppose is the point.

You notice Kazuha keeps glancing at her digital card as you walk, the blue glow illuminating her face in quick flashes. She's got that look—the one that says she's sitting on information and trying to decide if it's worth sharing. After about the fifth glance, she finally breaks the comfortable silence between you.

"Heard about the camping trip?" she asks, voice casual but eyes watchful.

"The what now?" You slow your pace, raising an eyebrow so high it might actually leave your face. The words 'camping' and 'deadly criminal organization' don't exactly go together in your mind.

"Moon's latest idea." Her lips quirk up in that way that means she finds something both ridiculous and amusing. "Team building or whatever. Though knowing him, it's probably more about testing survival skills than roasting marshmallows."

You snort—actually snort—imagining Seoul's deadliest criminals sitting cross-legged in a circle singing campfire songs: V with a guitar. Jeon scowling at a marshmallow. AD refusing to leave his tent without Wi-Fi. The mental image is too much.

"When's this happening?" you ask, already mentally cataloging what outdoor gear you own (approximately none) and what you'll need to borrow (approximately everything).

"Next weekend. Mandatory for everyone—even the Council." She grins, and there's something almost childishly delighted in her expression. "Can't wait to see how some of them handle roughing it."

"Bet Jeon's secretly a wilderness expert." The words tumble out before your brain can slam on the brakes. "Probably knows fifty ways to start a fire with just his glare."

And why the fuck do you always do this? It's like your mouth has a direct line to the Jeon-obsessed part of your brain that you try so hard to keep locked in a box labeled 'do not open, contains bad decisions.'

Kazuha's laugh bounces off the walls, bright and genuine. "True. But I'm more excited to watch V try to pitch a tent. That'll be worth all the mosquito bites."

You both crack up at the mental image—V, with his designer clothes and perfectly styled hair, struggling with tent poles and swearing elegantly. Doing some dramatic gestures as he insists this is beyond his pay grade. 

The conversation flows easier after that, like a dam breaking. Division gossip (apparently someone from Logistics hooked up with one of J-Hope's medics), latest missions (Flower's team extracted information from some politician last week), the weird mix of normal and deadly that makes up your daily life.

But part of your brain keeps circling back to the camping trip. It might be interesting, seeing everyone outside these walls. Away from the usual hierarchy and rules. Maybe even see certain people—a certain person—in a different light...

Stop it. Bad brain.

The elevator takes its sweet time arriving, but for once you don't mind. These moments—just chatting and laughing like you're normal twenty-somethings instead of trained criminals—make the whole "chose a life of crime" thing a bit more bearable. Almost like you could be two friends heading to a coffee shop instead of two members of a seduction team returning from combat training.

Then the doors slide open with that soft pneumatic hiss, and the mood shifts faster than V's trigger finger.

Because AD is there, and he looms in the elevator like a human popsicle in pajamas. His blonde hair's a disaster zone, like he's been running his hands through it for hours, and his expression screams 'I will digitally erase your entire existence if you so much as breathe in my direction.' 

You and Kazuha instinctively hang back, keeping a respectful distance as you step inside.

The silence is thick enough to choke on. You exchange glances with Kazuha, her eyes wide in a silent what the actual fuck is his deal today? AD's usually grumpy—it's like his personality setting is permanently stuck on 'irritated genius'—but this is next level, even for him.

The elevator hums, counting floors with soft electronic beeps. You study the back of AD's head, noting how his shoulders are hunched forward like he's carrying something heavy. 

Something's definitely got the Chief of Cyber Intelligence more pissy than usual. 

Maybe someone touched his keyboard. Or breathed near his servers. Or existed in his general vicinity when he was coding.

"Seduction Division?" His voice breaks the silence suddenly, barely above a mumble but somehow filling the entire space.

You stiffen, feeling your spine straighten automatically. Kazuha goes still beside you, her usual fluid energy freezing in place. 

"Yes?" you answer, because someone has to and she's not opening her mouth.

AD turns slowly, pivoting on his heel. His dark eyes meet yours, and there's something in them that makes your stomach drop—not anger or irritation, but... Concern? Fear? Something you've never seen on his face before.

"Be careful," he says softly, but there's steel under the words, a warning wrapped in those two simple syllables.

Before you can process what that means—before you can even think to ask what the hell he's talking about—the elevator stops, and AD steps out without another word, his pajama-clad form disappearing down the hallway like some bizarre sleep-deprived ghost.

The doors slide shut, and you let out a heavy breath.

"What was that about?" Kazuha whispers, looking as confused as you feel.

"No idea." You shake your head. "But when AD warns you about something..."

"You listen." She finishes, expression thoughtful. 

The elevator continues its descent, but your mind's stuck on AD's warning. He's not exactly known for caring about other divisions' business. Whatever prompted that cryptic message must be serious.

Question is: what is he trying to warn you about?

goal: 125 notes. next chapter will be posted immediately AS SOON as the goal is reached. 🧚🏻 do your thing kiki nation. <3

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[lionscion]

That taunt propelled Ares that bit quicker out of the water and towards the next starting point. Sheer defiance was what he was running on by now, and he was indeed mustering a run despite his weighted shackles -- which were still not coming off.

The punishment for that arbitrary rule was to last the rest of the gauntlet, then, but Ares still showed no hesitation as he took his place on the final section.

Between the narrow pole that was barely big enough for one of his boots let alone both, and the speed of that sweeping pole against his fettered legs, to say he was at a severe disadvantage here would be an understatement.

1d20 -> 11; Hit! -4HP

The first revolution was gentle all things considered, and it still sent him flailing.

1d20 -> 11; Hit! -4HP Reroll proc: 2; Failure!

The moment it began its second, the speed only quickened, and the opening for reaction only narrowed. Meanwhile he had still been fighting against his weights when it swept him again.

At this rate, he knew there was no more room for finding his footing, even as the pole beneath him was rattling from his struggle.

At this rate, he had no other options but to outlast them both to stay in this race! But...

At this rate...

1d20 -> 10; Hit! -4HP OUT!

He was already back in the water, floating up to the surface on his back while his expression just kept sinking.

It was over.

KaBOOM. KaBOOM. SPLOOSH.

West Island Gauntlet Group 4

[lepunya]

⚔🔮My first conscious commission, and even in a traditional style🤩

I am thrilled and worried at the same time!

The drawing was made with colored pencils in A5 format, and I put stickers as a gift to the customer👀

All this was delivered in an authentic envelope, which added a special style🎩

[avoskorm]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard - Character Skills and Descriptions

Davrin:

Ability - Assan Strike Damage: 405 🔥Fire Cooldown: 🔄18s Call in Assan to attack from the skies above. Deals bonus Armor damage and Knocks Down enemies.

Passive - Stunning Blow Assan Strike Stagger damage: +100%

Greater Passive - For Good Measure Assan Strike Assan now attacks 1 additonal time, dealing 50% of the base damage as ⚔Physical damage.

Ability Upgrade - Razor Talons Assan Strike The initial impact now deals Bleeding to the target. This skill cannot be purchased while Scorch is acquired.

Ability Upgrade - Scorch Assan Strike The initial impact now deals Burning to the target. This skill cannot be purchased while Razor Talons is acquired.

Passive - Ambush Assan Strike Damage vs. Armor: +50%

Passive - Second Wind Assan Strike Cooldown duration: -20%

Ability Upgrade - Second Helping Assan Strike Delivers another attack to a nearby enemy at 50% base damage. This skill cannot be purchased while Above and Beyond is acquired.

Ability Upgrade - Above and Beyond Assan Strike Damage: +25% This skill cannot be purchased while Second Helping is acquired.

**********

Ability - Battle Cry Cooldown: 🔄36s Davrin lets out a formidable shout, drawing the attention of enemies attacking the party. Taunts enemies in the area, forcing them to attack Davrin for a short time. Does not affect some of the strongest boss enemies.

Greater Passive - Breathing Room Battle Cry Replenish 50 health each second that Taunt is active.

Ability Upgrade - Overprotective Battle Cry When you are at Low Health, Battle cry automatically triggers if is not on cooldown. Can occur once every 60 seconds. Auto-fire does not apply cooldown. Manual activation will remain available.

Ability Upgrade - Quick to Anger Battle Cry Cooldown duration: -20% This skill cannot be purchased while Echo is acquired.

Ability Upgrade - Echo Battle Cry Effective radius: +100% This skill cannot be purchased while Quick to Anger is acquired.

Passive - Lasting Words Battle Cry Duration: +50%

Greater Passive - Brawler Battle Cry For each enemy Taunted by Davrin, he gains 10% bonus damage for the duration of the effect.

Ability Upgrade - Piercing Cry Battle Cry When enemies are Taunted they gain 300 ⚔Physical damage. This skill cannot be purchased while Searing Rage is acquired.

Ability Upgrade - Searing Rage Battle Cry When enemies are Taunted, they take 40 🔥Fire damage per second. This skill cannot be purchased while Piercing Cry is acquired.

**********

Ability - Death from Above Damage: 243 🔥Fire Cooldown: 🔄36s 🎇Detonates ⚔Weakened Davrin calls Assan to strike a target from above. Deals a high amount of Stagger.

Passive - Staggering Talons Death from Above Stagger: +100%

Passive - Slow Combustion Death from Above On Detonation, deal an additional 100% Stagger.

Passive - Bird of Prey Death from Above Cooldown duration: -20%

Ability Upgrade - Positive Reinforcement Death from Above On Detonation, you gain Rally Party. This skill cannot be purchased while Assan's Fire is acquired.

Passive - Infernal Drop Death from Above Detonation damage: +50%

Ability Upgrade - Barrage Death from Above On Detonation, this Ability's cooldown is reduced by 50%.

Ability Upgrade - Assan's Fire Death from Above On impact, deals 50% of the damage done to the target to all enemies within 6 meters. This skill cannot be purchased while Positive Reinforcement is acquired.

Passive - Wingspan Death from Above Effective radius: +50%

Ability Upgrade - Greater Chaos Death from Above Now inflicts damage up to 3 times, but deals -50% further reduced damage.

**********

Ability - In War, Victory Cooldown: 🔄36s Davrin's heroic actions inspire, filling you with the power and endurance of a steadfast Warden. Grants Invulnerable for a short period.

Passive - Do Not Yield In War, Victory Duration: +2 seconds

Passive - Respite In War, Victory When the effect ends, recover 20% of your health.

Ability Upgrade - Fortified Return In War, Victory When the effect ends, you gain Resistant This skill cannot be purchased while As a Rock is acquired.

Ability Upgrade - As a Rock In War, Victory When the effect ends, you gain Immovable. This skill cannot be purchased while Fortified Return is acquired.

Passive - Further Capitalize In War, Victory When used, you gain 20% of your Ultimate. This bonus applies only during combat.

Passive - Speedy Recovery In War, Victory Cooldown duration: -20%

Ability Upgrade - Ample Reserves In War, Victory Duration: +2 seconds This skill cannot be purchased while Forceful Return is acquired.

Ability Upgrade - Forceful Return In War, Victory When the effect ends, enemies near you take 150 ⚔Physical damage, and are Knocked Back. This skill cannot be purchased while Ample Reserves is acquired.

**********

Ability - Heroic Strike Damage: 270 🔥Fire Cooldown: 🔄36s Applies 💥Overwhelm A quick and decisive strike imbued with the righteous fire of the Grey Wardens. Deals a high amount of Stagger.

Passive - Armor Breaker Heroic Strike Damage vs. Armor: +50%

Passive - Overwhelming Strength Heroic Strike Stagger: +50%

Ability Upgrade - A Proper Drubbing Heroic Strike 💥Overwhelmed duration: +50% This skill cannot be purchased while Overpower is acquired.

Ability Upgrade - Overpower Heroic Strike 💥Overwhelmed effectiveness: +10% This skill cannot be purchased while A Proper Drubbing is acquired.

Passive - Focused Training Heroic Strike Cooldown duration: -20%

Passive - Critical Strike Heroic Strike Critical Damage: +25%

Ability Upgrade - Blood and Fire Heroic Strike On a Critical hit, applies Bleeding and Burning to the target. This skill cannot be purchased while Critical Power is acquired.

Ability Upgrade - Critical Power Heroic Strike On a Critical hit, you gain Enhanced Damage. This skill cannot be purchased while Blood and Fire is acquired.

**********

Veilguard Skill - Defender Assan Abilities have a 25% shorter cooldown duration. When used, Assan Abilites grant Deflect.

[secret-sector-antag]

🦇⚔ Dhampir Hunter V ⚔🦇

SPECIAL FILES 1/?: COMPENDIUM OF CREATURES

What's a monster-hunting organization without it's guidebook to the creatures that roam the night?

Of course, these aren't all of them, but some of the most common ones, or the ones that Val and the crew come into contact with throughout the mission.

Scientific Name: Nectarus Cuddlius Common Name: BugBear

Probably the only good creature on this list. Look at these li'l guys! These li'l creatures are more commonly found deeeeep in the forests of the country, and sometimes large, open fields- especially during the spring and summer. A bit shy, these guys go about their li'l bugbear lives, pollenating the flowers and keeping the greenery of the area alive and thriving. They can be a little bit mischevious and will sometimes steal snacks (ESPECIALLY sweets) from picnickers, but they mean no harm. Most people treat them very kindly as a result.

Scientific Name: Strigocryphagus doloris Common Name: StrigOwie StrigOwies are another form of vampire. Whereas spank-happy vampires primarily deliver pain in the name of justice, StrigOwies do it for no other reason other than they want to. They feed off of misery and pain and the resulting tears of sadness. Their appearance tends to vary based on how satiated their hunger is. If they're very hungry, they appear incredibly frightening and ugly; if not, they look no different than an ordinary kid. ...Y'know, save for the more vampiric features like fangs and such. 

Scientific Name: Energisuga vorax infantus Common Name: NosfeBratu

These young vampiric beings are not as dangerous as StrigOwie, but they still have the ability to pack a punch. They tend to appear as 'old time-y' young children (anywhere for toddler to kindergarten age or so) and feed on a victim's energy. What they occasionally lack in intelligence and/or experience, they make up for in speed and stamina. Beware their tantrums!

Scientific Name: Rattus Mallus Common Name: Mall Rat

Rat-like humans (human-like rats?) that lurk in Schprekenheim's run-down/abandoned mall. There are several types that inhabit the area: skaters (pictured), goths (present with slightly pointed ears and grayer fur), preps (lighter- often blonde- fur, smaller ears, and sharper teeth) seem to be the most common ones that appear, though others do inhabit the area and have yet to be documented. Rumor has it that a larger, more dangerous beast lurks in the basement of the mall, but this is unfounded. Surviving primarily on pizza, smoothies, snacks. and Chinese food, mall rats are like most teenagers and are relatively harmless. Cut off their food supply or get them angry enough, though...

Scientific Name: Vesperus infernalus harmonix Common Name: Jambion *Pictured is the "leader" of the jambions: OziZi*

Half demon, half human beings that essentially embody all that is the "teenage rock and roll rebel" (though there are other types as well- i.e, KPop jambions). Though very loud, their supernatural musical ability allows them to hypnotize others and put them under their control; kind of like a twisted Pied Piper that satiate their hunger with the energy and attention of others. Those under their spell take the "party hardy" motto extremely seriously, partying to the point of near-death...sometimes further if they invoke the unholy mosh pit.

Scientific Name: Canis scholacticus ferox Common Name: Wild Homework-Eating WereDog

Though not exclusive to the area, homework-eating Weredogs (fur and dog type varying based on victim) are an increasing problem in Schprekenheim. They have an affinity for homework (so long as it's well done), and may as well be the source for the age-old excuse for not having one's work done. Badly done homework is known to essentially poison and weaken them, whereas essays, presentations, and dissertations amplify their strength. There exists a subspecies of the Weredogs that consist of students that have either dropped out of school or have been expelled. These beasts are considerably more vicious- thereby earning the name "Wild" homework-eating Weredogs. They do not discern between "good" or "bad" homework and/or students, they serve to get their victims to go down a similar path as they have done, and become wild themselves. 

Wild homework-eating Weredogs are able to be distinguished by the following characteristics: Sharper, longer upper canine teeth, different colored eyes (often yellow), triangular/angled pupils, longer claws; and an "X" mark on their paw pads.

[ilvero-love]

Establishing Locklyle 💙🖤⚔👻

Whilst the books may not have ramped things up between our dashing heroes until Book 3, Complete Fiction hit the ground running. It's clear from the opening scenes of Lockwood and Co that these are our canon couple.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. What I really want to do with this post is look in detail at how well the opening scenes of this series are put together, especially in the context of Locklyle. Warning, it's a long one, but there's just so much to unpack.

The show opens with a mysterious couple walking. We see their kit well before we see their faces. But it’s the dialogue between them that provides the real hook. It's intelligent and immediately starts to build the world we are entering.

In these opening moments of the series, those of us new to the world of Lockwood and Co don’t quite follow the context of the exchange, yet in the hands of these two it doesn’t matter. The dialogue is clever, natural and, importantly, has just the right amount of snark.

Lockwood's response of "No need to be facetious" indicates that he is not cowed by Lucy's criticism and her later response, with accompanying knowing grin, of 'Thought you said there was no time to be facetious', hints at an already established mutual understanding and connection. But I'll come back to this in a moment.

When they meet Mrs Hope, Lockwood immediately slips into business mode, reassuring her of their capability. She looks uncertain but it's the first hint we get of Lockwood's charm and confidence, such a large part of his literary character throughout the book series.

Lucy, however, is not so diplomatic and immediately says adults are useless anyway. Lockwood, ever conscious of impressing the client, gives Lucy a look causing her to clarify what she means.

This was a change from the book where it is Lockwood who is dismissive of adults and Lucy soothes it over with explanation. However, Complete Fiction have made a clever change here. Having Lucy deliver the line is much more consistent with their characters, reflecting Lockwood's charm and Lucy's more acerbic edge. In fact much of this interaction with Mrs Hope is reversed from the books and I think it works better to establish the characters of Lucy and Lockwood.

With Mrs Hope's departure, we move inside the home and get our first understanding of their skills. We see Lucy and Lockwood as they tune into the house and see Lucy's point of view as she vividly experiences Mr Hope's death.

I love this scene. The ease as Lockwood laughs and leans against the wall. Lucy's feistiness as she challenges him with justification for her reaction. His response? He offers tea. The first reference to what we will come to know as a staple of their world.

The warmth of the kitchen offsets the ghostly greenish glow of the rest of the house. It's a very cosy, warm and domestic scene. It works to establish a sense of the calm before the storm.

As they discuss the backstory of the haunting, I adore Lockwood's question "Sarcastic or ironic?" and Lucy's response of "The cleverer one" is perfect 👌 One more example of the easy banter between them.

From here we move back upstairs to find ourselves a ghost 👻

The world building in these opening scenes is considerable. It's hard to believe it all happens in the space of 8 minutes.

I spoke earlier about how they seem to have a connection already. In the books Lucy has been with the company for around 6 months but, in Complete Fiction's universe she is only new to the company.

Which means that she, like us, is a bit unsure about Lockwood's ability. He is clearly charming and the leader but Lucy's criticism about trying to make contact with the living coming on top of his failure to pack the chains, means we're not quite sure and then we're left with Lucy dangling over a deadly drop and the opening credits roll.

It must be said that Complete Fiction have put this opening episode together so well. We don't get to see what happens with Lucy for another half hour and I admit by then, I'd almost forgotten our beginning.

We delve into Lucy's backstory which I won't go into detail over here, that's a separate post altogether. We do however get to see the development of the connection that Lucy and Lockwood clearly have and it's evident from when they first lay eyes on each other that there is a mutual connection.

There's so much to pull apart here: George's disdain, Lucy's rising feistiness as a direct consequence and Lockwood overseeing it all. The delight with which Lockwood shows her 35 Portland Row, Lucy's obvious pleasure at finding somewhere to stay, a place that could be home.

But it's the growing connection between Lucy and Lockwood that is clear. So much so that by the time of the final exchange between them in the library, Lucy is comfortable enough with Lockwood to call him out over his overstating of the standing of "Lockwood & Co". I love Lockwood's calm explanation that it was a mild exaggeration and that lots of people make them, much like she did when she exaggerated her rapier prowess ⚔

It's reflective of Lucy's inner resolve that once she realises Lockwood is not concerned by her omission, she challenges him by asking: "How do I know you're good enough for me?"

Cue the perfect segue back to her dangling over the stairwell precipice.

Now it's Lockwood's turn to shine and turns out, yes, yes he is good enough for her 🖤💙

After fighting the ghost off, with some pretty impressive moves to be honest, Lockwood grasps Lucy from falling and here, here is the moment where Locklyle is canon.

Yes I know he's just saved her from certain death, but the way they cling to each other🤗😍💙🖤

Let's just take a moment to savour this scene 😍

Sigh 😍🤗

Now, where were we?

Lockwood is so shaken by the events that he is ready to retreat, it's Lucy that wants to push on. Ironically, it's her that is reckless at this point. The desire to understand the ghost's pain drives her on and provides an early indicator of a major plot point for upcoming episodes and indeed seasons (🙏🙏Manifesting like crazy 💙🖤🧡)

The rest of the episode unfolds at pace. They find the body, Lucy grabs herself a souvenir and saves Lockwood from Ghost lock. It's just unfortunate that it results in the ultimate destruction of the house.

But our canon couple are locked in. There's no going back from here, they just go deeper and deeper.

And we willingly go along for the ride 🤗💙🖤

[if-childrenofiona]

night uniforms of iona's temple.

( idea taken from this ask. keep in mind, these are just ideas of what the temple uniforms look like! )

merchant 🏺

merchants in general wear maroon. it's eye catching, alluring. but what sets ionian merchants from the rest is the gold patterns woven within their garments. they wear faux fur cloaks, more so as a luxury piece to draw attention to themselves and what they have to sell.

swordsman ⚔

swordsmen wear dark greens and browns. their cloaks are of heavier material and lined with wool to protect them from the harsh elements during the job. unlike the others, ionian swordsmen carry a golden sheath. their uniform typically involves a shirt, vest/corset, and pants with lots of leather and brass embellishments.

scholar 📜

ionian scholars wear beige, blue, and ash gray robes, completed with silver arm jewelry. when out and about, they carry leather waist bags to protect the scrolls or letters they deliver.

musician 🎼

musicians wear a mesh cloak, to protect them from the lighter elements of their occasional outside jobs. though, they frequently stay indoors. their uniforms are made of simpler designs and muted colors. this is so you focus on their music more so than their clothing.

dancer 🩰

dancers wear veils instead of cloaks, as most of their jobs take place indoors. their uniforms are made of lighter materials, yet have eye-catching patterns, this compliments their alluring movements and elevates the beauty of their performance.

weaver 🧺

weavers are the pillars of gilhanian fashion. they often wear simple gowns in contrast to shawls/cloaks of elaborate designs. or they may proudly show off their intricate jewelry work. most often they dress in black, brown, or cream colors.

[fraldariuszine]

🛡 PRODUCTION UPDATES 🛡

All hail! The scholars behind The Book of Shields bring word of the work done to deliver the anthology safely to your hands. We henceforth encourage you to follow along this post for news of each step along the way!

⚔ CHARMS ⚔

We have received all of the acrylic charms that our scholars dutifully created to represent Glenn, Felix, and Rodrigue Fraldarius.

Alt Text: a video of three acrylic charms being shown: one of Glenn, one of Felix, and one of Felix and Rodrigue.

Here are additional photographs of the charms for your reference; we are delighted to share that they are of the utmost quality and accuracy to the descriptions we have of these famous Fraldarius men.

[hoodedchishiya]

⚔

Send ⚔️ for a vs. battle quote to your muse

This includes:

Battle intro: You want to go, Medusa~? Let’s hope those noodle-arms of yours hold up.

Victory: Now I see why daddy was disappointed in you all those years ago. Guess you never learned how to deliver that final blow after all, huh?

Defeat: I’d be lying if I said I didn’t see this coming. There’s a reason why I’m the brains and you’re the brawn..

Assist: Look at you finally admitting you need my help. Since you asked so nicely, I guess I’ll lend a hand~

Taunt: Scared to break another pretty nail? Sure seems like it with the way you’re holding back~

Reacting to Taunt: Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.. and neither can you, apparently.

Tie: Well that was underwhelming.. but I’ll take it. I expected more of a challenge from you.

Perfect Victory: Perhaps someone should revoke that Spades speciality, huh? Stick to being a Clubs player, Kuina. Obviously you need a team behind you.

~Chishiya ♦️

[nklmg]

I have checked all ⚔️🍁🦁's animations and 🦁 switched (hand) 2 times - from left to right while ⚔ 🍁 each switch (hand) 1 time - from right to left.

🍁 (I might as well report everything I did instead of writing my paper, then) He still holds pens with his right, but his left is strong enough to deliver a finishing blow, & he rests his spear on his left U can refer the double spin to Herta's Ult to understand what is it likes.

⚔ He only uses his left in his Passive proc

🦁 finally

[joshym]

happy 1 year, le morte d'arthur. ♡

when i initially realized that this little story of mine reached its one-year mark, i was disappointed in myself - disappointed in the fact that i've only released five chapters in a 12-month span. i felt as though i've been letting people down, that i hadn't fulfilled my duty as the author by delivering the updates my readers deserved.

however, i've had to remind myself that there is no time limit, that numbers are not a measure of success, & writting over 133,000 words in a year is no small achievement. more importantly, i’ve come to recognize the incredible patience & love my readers have shown me throughout this process. you’ve allowed me the time i've needed to navigate this intricate story, & for that, i’m endlessly grateful. i have the best readers because of that very reason.

so, from the bottom of my heart, thank you to everyone who has stuck with me (& my shit updates, lol) over the past year. i want you to know that, in so many ways, this story is just beginning. there’s so much more to come, & exciting things are just on the horizon.

i also have to thank my sister, @jakeyt, for her endless support, encouragement, & help with everything that is le morte d'arthur. i've said it before, but this story simply wouldn't exist the way it does without her.

i love you all more than my heart could ever express. 🖤⚔︎

-lis♡

Le Morte d'Arthur Masterlist

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: It all began with a passion for literature. What was once a dream to walk the halls of the University of Michigan is now a reality.

You thought you were prepared for everything.

A new town, a new school, a new way of life,

but what you were not prepared for…

was meeting the enigma that is Jake Kiszka.

Series warnings (each chapter will include a more detailed set): S M U T 18+ ONLY!, sexually explicit scenes on film, mentions of anxiety, severe depression, struggles with body image & disordered eating(anorexia, food restrictions & calorie counting), descriptions of a terminally-ill parent(this will include hospitalizations & descriptions of medical devices), mentions of a broken home, an absent parent, a healthy amount of angst, a lot of jealousy, lgbtqia+ themes, death

Current Word Count: 133k+

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4 , (teaser)

Chapter 5 Part 1, Part 2 (teaser)

Chapter 6: coming soon ♡ (teaser)

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

⚔︎ Le Morte d'Arthur Playlist ⚔︎

click here if you'd like to join the taglist, or send me an ask/dm and i'll be sure to add you. ♡

your support means all the word and more to me. thank you so, so much.

[flieswatting]

@biiblephile  >>       “  what hideous sins have you committed lately?  ”      //  meme :   *  ―   ⚔ the princess bride sentence starters ⚔

❛  I did release a swarm of bot flies into a local restaurant . ❜ such a statement should not be delivered with the same amount of enthusiasm as one would comment on the weather, and yet it is exactly the stance the demon had on the matter. they tilt their head at the angel, very aware that he was probably just trying to be nice with the small talk.

❛  my wheelhouse was never REALLY in sins, with being a harbinger of famine and disease . ❜

[convxction]

no, im not dead. im making dumb edits. as per usual. have krumb and eira @dcviated little did the two know, they have each other pictures on their phones as background. they cute. sorry Kletski i cant art you. maybe when i dont have spaghetti artstyle lmao.