#i wish i was able to respond to everybody in a single second

[basketobread]

You draw everybody so cute. I’m obsessed . every time I open your blog and see your art my neurons light up. Anyway!! don’t feel bad about taking your time w responses!! it’s your art we are just politely gathered around enjoying your creative process!!! Have a nice day :)))

you are too sweet… gonna get dehydrated from the sweetness… THANK YOU FOR YOUR KIND WORDS AND YOUR PATIENCE!!! ❤️❤️❤️ HAVE A LOVELY DAY AS WELL ANON!!! ❤️❤️❤️

[iiseult]

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒯𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝒶𝓅𝓅𝒽𝒾𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒥𝑒𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓂

CWs →  fluff, angst, suggestive content, historical inaccuracies, slow burn, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, eventual smut (once reader and baldwin are both over 18), leprosy, time-period accurate sexism, one-sided pining

Wordcount: 3.1k

Note: I asked if you guys preferred to have more frequent updates with shorter chapters or slower updates with longer chapters, and the three people that responded wanted more frequent updates so here we are. Please reblog if you enjoy because the second chapter didn’t do very well and I don’t want this series to die off before it even begins! EL OH EL!!

The issue of an heir, or the lack thereof, had been solidly squared away by Baldwin within three months of your marriage, so that you never had to speak a word on the matter. He told his mother that despite “frequent attempts” on both your parts, you could not be made with child on account of his inadequate health. Of course no such attempts were ever made, but that knowledge was something that stayed solely between the two of you. By that point everybody in the royal court had suspected as much anyway, and with the news of his leprosy having recently been confirmed, it was accepted with very little noise. Nobody spoke to you of it, likely afraid to broach the topic, except for Baldwin’s mother, who offered you her sympathies and prayers, which you publicly accepted and privately rejected. Though she had finally relented in her feelings of ill will toward you, they had apparently been replaced with feelings of nothingness, so you continued to resent her until her death the following year. 

Meantime, you concerned yourself with adjusting to life as a queen and worked on becoming familiar with the kingdom, and Baldwin left you very much alone. He was a positively mysterious figure, seemingly doing his utmost to stay out of your way and to avoid contact with you altogether. Occasionally you did see him haunting the corridors of the castle like a faceless apparition in his colorless robes and hidden expression, but he never spoke to you, so in turn you did not speak to him. For the most part it did not bother you, but you sometimes childishly wished for his company, though it likely wasn’t his direct company you were wishing for but rather the company of any such equal. However you did miss the fluttery feeling he used to be able to stir in your breast with his charming words and noble actions. Somewhat successfully, you pushed those immature notions away and hoped they wouldn’t return. 

Despite your loneliness, you were constantly surrounded by Matilda and Amelia, the latter whom you’d come to rather like and regard as something of a sister. And if she was the sister, Matilda was the mother. 

Matilda perpetually accompanied you on your explorations of the city, helping you navigate the narrow alleyways and bustling streets and showing you which unsavory characteristics were the surefire marks of a swindler. That you favored the market streets above all else was immediately evident to her, so teaching you to spot dishonest merchants and avoid giving them your business was one of her top priorities. Most of your time in the city was, in fact, spent shopping. You admired the handmade wares being peddled at every corner and ignored the incessant voices imploring you to come this way or go that way so they could sell you something. It was all very amusing and enticing to you. 

Each time you requested it you were allotted certain amounts of money from the king to spend at your whim, collected and delivered to you by various servants, and he was more generous than anyone ever expected. With this allowance, you were able to purchase rolls of richly-colored fabrics to be made into dresses, endless supplies of ink and parchment, pottery covered in artwork so detailed it could have only been done by a single paintbrush hair, any number of books that appealed to you, and numerous tapestries hand-woven with shining threads that depicted biblical scenes or mythical creatures, such as unicorns or dragons. These you hung in your own bedchamber. But perhaps the most magnificent of all your purchases was the very first one you ever made, which occurred during your second week. You had emptied your coin purse for it, quite literally turned it upside down on the merchant’s stand, gold coins rolling here and there for him to chase after. Matilda strongly disapproved and urged you not to make the purchase because she thought the piece too fanciful and mature for such a young lady, but you silenced her with an icy glance and there was henceforth no more talk of the subject. 

It was a sapphire ring. The band was thick and gold, adorned by intricate flowing patterns, and the stone was inlaid securely between four strong prongs. For a second you figured it could become a family heirloom and be passed down onto your children, but then you remembered that the prospect of you ever having children was unlikely at best and a small twinge of disappointment tugged at your heart. So you decided it would be best to get as much enjoyment out of the thing as possible and from then on you wore it proudly everywhere and on every occasion, regardless of Matilda’s disapproving glances. 

The people of Jerusalem found their new queen just as mysterious and elusive as they had once found their king. Seeing a member of their royal family out in public had become an oddity over the years of Baldwin’s reign, and yet you were there at least twice a week, speaking in some romantic foreign tongue to your servants. Many of your subjects spoke only Arabic or Greek and could not recognize your French when they heard it. But the thing most contributing to the air of mysteriousness surrounding you actually had nothing to do with you personally; it was more so the fact that nobody ever expected the king to marry. Your indisputable beauty only contributed to the confusion. There had been rumors about Baldwin’s illness for years now, and the fact that his face was always covered by a mask led most everyone to believe that he must have suffered some hideous facial disfigurement as a result. This begged the question, how could such a beautiful young woman willingly marry such a horrifying person? 

Baldwin took his meals in his bedchamber and also conducted all business out of it. To you he was evasive and sightings of him were rare, limited to perhaps once a month. In the first four weeks after the wedding night, you saw him twice, maybe thrice. 

You had been in the chapel, kneeling at the altar and praying with your head bent and a cloth covering it, when he silently slipped into the room completely unbeknownst to you and took up prayer only a few feet away. After a moment you looked up and saw him with a start, having expected to see someone there, but not expecting to see him. His head was bowed, and his blond tresses fell over his face, hiding it from you, but you could still see his lips moving silently in prayer. When he was finished he quickly crossed himself and turned to fix his gaze on you, apparently having decided to go maskless that day. You stared, chest rising and falling heavily as you tried to recover from the shock with a hand clasped over your heart, willing it to stop its wild thumping. His blue eyes twinkled in amusement as your cheeks flushed and you felt a little anger at him for being entertained by you, but if he noticed this, he didn’t show it. He gazed at you for a time, eyes remaining kind but impassible, before he evidently decided he’d had enough and stood, walking out of the chapel without a single word ever passing between the two of you. 

Again you saw him one afternoon after returning from the city with Matilda. You had purchased the last remaining volume of a book whose other parts were already in the library, and seeked to put it in its rightful place on the shelf. Baldwin had been in the library playing chess with Raymond at the time, as he had been for the better part of the day, and he muttered something to the man softly when you walked in and hastily curtseyed to them. His eyes followed you across the room to where you stopped in front of a towering bookshelf. You let your head drop back against your shoulders and sighed, seeing that you would have to somehow reach the very top shelf. You’d have to find the ladder, or else find a servant who would replace the book for you. As you turned around, he appeared right behind you, blue eyes twinkling in that same mild-mannered way and holding his gloved hands out. 

Without speaking he seemed to say “allow me”, and it was so bewitching that you complied immediately without a thought, dropping the heavy volume into his outstretched hands. You watched, enchanted, in silence as he reached up to the top shelf, straining even at his impressive height, and slid the leather-bound volume into place. Again you curtseyed and bowed your head in thanks, peering up at him through your lashes. He continued smiling and only nodded once before retreating to his chess game, so you followed suit and returned to Matilda’s side. 

A strange anxiousness had seemed to overcome you, and you spent the rest of the day lying on your fainting couch drinking wine and trying to keep your mind from conjuring up images of him. How had he known which books the volume belonged with? How could he know? But by the time night fell and Matilda was gathering you against her chest to help walk you to bed, your regular spirited countenance had returned, and the period of brooding had reached its end. 

There was one other time in that first month you thought you might have seen him, but for all you knew, it could have been a trick of the candlelight. 

After a particularly heavy dinner of lamb, bread, and pudding, you had been dragging yourself wearily to bed when out of the corner of your eye, you saw something white and fluttering behind you. You turned to see what or whom it was, but of course it was gone by then, vanished into thin air. You hadn’t dared peer around the corner, deciding it was better not to know. But the fluttering white thing had almost certainly been his robe, and that notion didn’t leave your mind for the rest of the night, nor did it really ever. It was something you always remembered and often thought of for no particular reason. 

In the second month you saw him even less frequently, only catching a few glimpses here and there, and the instances seemed more spaced apart. He was seldom alone, but even if he had been you doubted you’d have the courage to speak to him, and God only knows what you’d speak of. Perhaps some interesting tidbit of news from the city or some morsel of gossip, as it were. However the opportunity never presented itself. 

In the third month you saw him but once, on the eve of your fifteenth birthday. He had been returning from the city on his white horse with a retinue of servants, many more than would be necessary for any other royal figure, but perhaps they were worried he’d have a spell of illness.

You had been awaiting his return by the window of the East tower with your embroidery for hours, hoping to discover something interesting about his little trip. Earlier in the day you’d heard a few of your maids murmuring about the king’s sudden decision to visit the city for the first time in almost a year. They wondered what the occasion was and then so did you. As he rode past the great stone wall surrounding the castle and disappeared into the stables beyond your line of sight, you concluded that there was truly nothing remarkable to see and that all your waiting had been in vain, so you promptly went to bed. 

On the morning of your fifteenth birthday you awoke to see a package of brown parchment on your bedside table, bound with a shining silken bow of royal blue. The color was a gift in and of itself, for you very well knew how costly blue dye was. A tingle of excitement ran through your veins as you lifted the package onto your lap, carefully pulling the bow loose and setting it aside for later; it would make a lovely accessory. Then, holding your breath, you slid your fingers along the seam of the parchment and unfolded it to reveal an unremarkable wooden box, smooth and cool to the touch. But inside the box, to your utter shock and speechlessness, was a treasure unlike any other you’d ever laid eyes upon. 

It was a necklace, made of heavy, sparkling chains of gold, and set in the middle of the large circular pendant was a perfect sapphire. It was cut expertly and you could see your own awestricken reflection, tinted blue in tiny identical rooms on each flat face. The gemstone was heavy and you understood the need for such a substantial chain as you hung it around your neck, barely able to tear your eyes away from it to read the note that was placed underneath it in the box. 

“To match your ring,” it simply said. 

Though there was no signature, you knew who it was from. Only a king could afford such a thing. And the deep blue color of the jewel was so familiar to you, it must have been the exact same shade as the one in your ring. You held up the ring next to the necklace, which was resting on your bosom, and looked in the mirror for comparison, and sure enough they were identical in color, though the stone in the ring was much smaller. It was only the size of a thumbnail whereas the necklace’s stone was an honest to god rock, a bit smaller than your palm. 

While you stared at yourself in the sapphire’s glassy surface, you came to realize two things; one, you didn’t have any idea when Baldwin’s birthday was, and two, both gemstones were very similar in color to that of the eyes of your husband. You thought perhaps that was what drew you to the ring in the first place, that familiar feeling you got when looking at that color. 

Later in the morning when Amelia dressed you, you showed her the necklace and her pupils widened so much that you could no longer see the gray of her irises. She carefully placed it around your throat, adding the finishing touch to your appearance. Then you asked her when Baldwin’s birthday was. 

“September 16th, Your Majesty. It was a few months before your wedding. He does not celebrate, or at least he hasn’t for very many years. But the parties used to be ever so wonderful…” she trailed off, no doubt reminiscing on the great royal get-togethers of her youth. 

Again something clicked in your mind which you found a bit surprising. Though Baldwin had only seen you a handful of times since the wedding and up close only twice, he had apparently noticed your ring and managed to commit to memory nearly its exact shade of blue. You further realized that he had gone out of the palace the day prior for the purpose of procuring this gift. How did he know your birthday, you wondered. 

You stared down at your ring, which was glinting ceaselessly against your finger as if it was trying to tell you something. Sapphires, you thought, September. And then it made sense. The stone of September was, in fact, a sapphire. That was Baldwin’s stone. The stone of loyalty and honesty. And the two sapphires you now possessed, both bought with his money, would certainly become heirlooms. Perhaps you would have them pass them onto Baldwin’s young nephew upon your death, for it would be too much a shame to bury them with you and keep them from sparkling in the light of the sun the way they were meant to. 

You wanted to thank him but you just didn’t know how. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Baldwin had become something of a private investigator, as it were, and his focus was you. He wanted to keep his distance because he was afraid of upsetting you, so he tried to revert to his original plan of leaving you completely to your own devices and not interfering, but it soon proved impossible for him. Like a fool he had gotten his hopes up, just to have them come crashing down around him on his wedding night. He thought you could have been the perfect person to rule side-by-side with even if you did have a lot to learn. He thought you could have loved him even if it ended up being true that he could not provide you with an heir. He thought that you could have loved him, and that was his mistake, but he had already fallen in love with you.

He could not keep away from you but he could not be with you, so he compromised and went near you only when you did not know. It was not invasive, however, and he never wanted to breach your privacy. It was just little things. He would lurk in corridors he knew you would walk through in hopes of catching snatches of conversations between you and one of your servants. He had Amelia collect pieces of personal information about you and report back to him, which was undoubtedly how he found out your birthday. 

One day he followed you into the chapel and made like he was praying so he could sit next to you, if only for a moment. The warmth that spread in his breast in those few moments of closeness with you was enough to sustain him for a few more weeks. 

Even more painful than his raw leprous skin was the pain of seeing you smiling and conversing with people who were not him, to see you dressing in fine gowns and jewelry and going to dinner with people who were not him. To not be with you was the most painful thing he knew. For the woman he felt such tender things for to not even know the half of it. So with every month that passed he withdrew more, knowing that every time he left his chambers he risked running into you.

 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Quietly he opened your bedroom door, knowing you had to be sleeping at such a late hour, and you were. The pale light of the moon made your face look almost mask-like in sleep. Your delicate eyelashes were pressed to your cheeks, those cheeks he wished so badly to kiss. The desire to be near you, he thought as he gently placed the brown parchment package on your bedside table, was one day going to kill him.

[degreedummy]

Inconjunctions by Sign

Aries-Virgo Inconjunction-

 Wanting to do the most for people who didn't ask for it, then ripping away the help when they don't respond like they didn't promise to. Running ahead to hold open doors people had no plan of going through. This inconjunction is one that almost treats relationships as achievement-based, thinking that if they push forward, overachieving, the bond/loyalty will build quicker, but in all that pushing, they tend not to know what direction the other person actually wants to go.

Aries-Scorpio Inconjunction-

The need to defend themselves against threats that weren't made. This is someone who always needs the other person to show their cards first, no matter how much they claim to trust the person they're sitting across. When people come to expect this... distanced love, it puts limitations on the relationship that this inconjunction then doesn't know how to move past, thinking it's something the other person is doing, and letting the relationship die off because they're [protecting] themselves.

Taurus-Libra Inconjunction-

 The demand for credit to be given where credit is due. This inconjunction keeps points, holding onto resentment or guilt until the score is exactly even and not letting go until a second before then. This influence is one that takes reason past the point of reason, expecting such exact and specific answers that the grey areas of life have no place in theirs. I think this inconjunction forgets patience isn't always a sign of weakness.

 

Taurus-Sagittarius Inconjunction-

The mouth with no ears that asks questions increasingly louder until it hears the answer it wants to hear. This inconjunction is so devoted to "the truth" that they forget there's a difference between their personal truth and the actual truth. Technicalities can only ever play in their favor, or else rulebooks and player history gets pulled out, the [truth] of being wrong being that they feel they shouldn't ever be singled out for what "everybody does". Accountability tends to be a one way street here.

Gemini-Scorpio Inconjunction-

The secret that never needed to be kept, an unnoticeable flaw that changes the entire way we approach new people. This inconjunction is one that feels unheard before anyone has the chance to not pay attention. This influence is one that has so much to say about how they feel, but one who won't say a word until they're directly asked about feelings no one knows they have, which can result in accidentally reciprocating the feelings of unfair treatment and exclusion.

Gemini-Capricorn Inconjunction-

The english teacher that disapproves of contractions but can't and won't stop using them themselves. This is the influence that only memorizes the rules enough to list them off for other people not following them. This inconjunction is one that feels like they're pushing the people around them to be the best they can be, but sometimes setting an example has more impact than any overcritical speech that people have heard ten times before.

Cancer-Sagittarius Inconjunction-

The inconsolable need to know, pushing through the closure it needs so it can never say it regrets not finding the answers it said they didn't want before. One whose seen more than most, but only speaks on it in sympathy for others. This inconjunction is one that wishes to be the answer that others never gave them, not necessarily seeking out pain, but being able to charge through it knowing they have more knowledge to bring back to the people they'll think it'll help.

Cancer-Aquarius Inconjunction-

Nobody ever understands someone who never allows them the opportunity to truly understand them, making guesses to fill holes being an insult that was only meant to give voice to a part of us that's never been heard. This inconjunction has feelings no one has ever felt before, but that's mostly because they can't share an experience with someone they're too afraid to expose themselves to, truly risking being the only person who feels the way they do and jumping over that hurdle.

Leo-Capricorn Inconjunction-

The judge that wanted nothing more than to become a doctor one day. This influence is one that's so focused on being known for one thing that their success in any other area means nothing to them, being more critical of their work than anyone else. This inconjunction is one that almost depends on their [purpose], feeling they were debatably somehow brought onto this planet for a specific goal that will destroy them if they don't achieve it. This influence is the tunnel vision that can derail whole lives.

Leo-Pisces Inconjunction-

 The cousin who needs you to know they once felt that emotion more than you just did right now, not giving people time before pulling the energy back in the direction they had planned before whatever off schedule chaos ensues. This inconjunction DOES care about other peoples' emotions, but they can forget people don't have as much control-- or ability to detach-- as them. This influence tends to think they're helping by drawing attention away in situations where the spotlight needs to be more direct.

Virgo-Aquarius Inconjunction-

The robot that keeps breaking because it thinks it's found an even more perfect way of doing things, short circuiting trying to push itself past it's limits even after people already said it does better work than they could've ever expected. To this inconjunction, dreams are almost undeniably achievable by anyone willing to work for them, but this is an influence that tends to lack so much respect for the word "no" that even their own body saying it doesn't make them hesitate.

Libra-Pisces Inconjunction-

The artist who repainted pictures in different colors to match their changing mood, the stories that come along with the memories that inspired them changing along with the art itself. This influence is one who reframes their perspective to keep sane. This inconjunction is one who can honestly be very easily caught in a lie, but the reason behind them are almost always about protecting something or someone from the harshness of the truth. Not a justification, but a risk they take to protect the ears of the people they love.

[zintranslations]

Kaleidoscope of Death, Extra 4

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Novel Updates

Extra: Twin Lives, Twin Deaths (1)

The first time Cheng Yixie understood that he likely wouldn't live for long was on the day of his fifth birthday. While other five-year-olds were still bumbling about without much concept of life and death, he had understood something in his mother's tears and his father's frowns. His fifth birthday was spent in the hospital, alongside his foolish brother Cheng Qianli. With IV drips in their arms and eating horribly bitter medicine, they stuck five candles into a lovely cake to make a wish.

Cheng Yixie looked at the candles on their cake and quietly thought, he wished he could grow up quicker, because there were still placed he wanted to see in this world.

Cheng Qianli clearly didn’t think as much as Cheng Yixie. He wore a brilliant smile in sharp contrast with the impassive Cheng Yixie sitting next to him, and all of his attention was on the sweet and spongey cake before him. Fools had an easier time than geniuses. A single sweet candy could bring a genuine smile out of him.

Cheng Yixie and Cheng Qianli were twins, but everything about them beside their faces seemed completely different.

Cheng Yixie had realized long ago that they were different from other kids. He'd even heard a doctor discuss their condition with their parents. From that discussion, a single sentence had been imprinted in his brain. Their primary doctor had said that, at the current level of medical progress, he and Cheng Qianli would not live past sixteen.

Sixteen—sixteen. Life would only just be starting. Cheng Yixie went back to their hospital room and watched his brother sit in the hospital bed, giggling at the cartoon on TV. There wasn't a single shadow in Cheng Qianli's eyes; they were as bright as the blue skies outside their window.

Cheng Qianli was a lot skinnier than he was, and his body was weaker too. Though he was almost ten, he still looked like an undernourished bean sprout. For treatment, neither of them had any hair. All over their heads and wrists were green and purple puncture marks.

Cheng Yixie came into the hospital room and Cheng Qianli looked up at him, calling out Gege in a sweet voice. That pair of adorable cat eyes were overflowing with palpable joy; he'd never bothered hiding his affection for Cheng Yixie.

"Gege." The tiny Cheng Qianli looked right and left, before carefully waving Cheng Yixie over.

Cheng Yixie went to his bedside, and Cheng Qianli indicated he should bend down. Cheng Yixie thought that Cheng Qianli had something to say to him and obeyed. But the moment he bent, a tiny piece of candy was pushed between his lips.

"Sh," Cheng Qianli said. "Don't tell nurse-jiejie. Grandma gave it to me in secret. I gave it a lick, it's super yummy."

Because they were sick, their diets were under strict control; the amount of snacks they got to eat in a year could be counted on both hands. Cheng Yixie thought, how nice would it be if they were normal children? Then Cheng Yixie could eat all the food that he wanted, and they wouldn't have to be doing such a pitiful thing.

"You're feeding me something you already ate?" was how Cheng Yixie responded to Cheng Qianli's good will. "Gross."

"You're lying," Cheng Qianli harrumphed. "You like candy too, I know it. Mean gege."

Cheng Yixie said nothing. The candy's sweetness was dispersing through his mouth, but all he could see was their future. He couldn't imagine losing this foolish brother of his; he wanted so badly to see Cheng Qianli grow up and have a life of his own.

Cheng Yixie thought surviving was just wishful thinking, until he was chosen by the doors.

The terrifying world of the doors was perhaps an awful sort of torture for many, but for Cheng Yixie, it was a blessing of mercy from the heavens.

When he entered the first door he wasn't even sixteen, and looked completely out of place in the pack of adults.

His first door was very difficult. Cheng Yixie believed that he would die inside, but his fortune was good—he met a veteran who'd passed through many doors. That veteran opened the door, and Cheng Yixie successfully left that extra-dimensional world.

After coming out from the door, Cheng Yixie's physical condition began to swiftly get better.

The doctors called it a miracle. They were getting the same medicine and the same treatments, but Cheng Yixie's body was getting better and quickly approaching normalcy, while Cheng Qianli's was getting weaker.

Cheng Yixie knew why this was happening. He tried telling this absurd yet genuine truth to his parents, but both parents thought he was joking.

In everybody else's eyes, Cheng Yixie had only sat on his bed and spaced out for a bit. He hadn't gone anywhere. Everything he said was probably just a child's imagination. How could they take the imaginary as truth?

Cheng Yixie was smart enough to know that the adults would never understand. This matter had already gone beyond explicable bounds, and he had no evidence to prove the existence of the door.

Then what about Cheng Qianli? Cheng Yixie thought. What about his little fool of a brother?

Before Cheng Yixie had an answer, he entered his second door. And in his second door, he met Obsidian leader Ruan Nanzhu.

Ruan Nanzhu had been in a dress at the time, and called him kiddo with a smile.

Cheng Yixie only shot him a cold look, not bothering to respond. What good was any of this talk? In his first door he'd seen plenty of adults who acted all arrogant and coy one second end up dead the next.

Cheng Yixie figured the same would be true of Ruan Nanzhu. But then he discovered that Ruan Nanzhu didn't seem to be as he'd thought. Ruan Nanzhu was good. Cheng Yixie was keen enough to pick this up after observing Ruan Nanzhu's following actions.

As Ruan Nanzhu got ready to leave, he gave Cheng Yixie a way to contact him, telling Cheng Yixie that if he wanted to know more, he could get in touch.

Cheng Yixie looked at that contact point and memorized it silently.

After leaving the second door, Cheng Yixie got in touch with Ruan Nanzhu and learned about the existence of Obsidian.

"Do you want to come to Obsidian? Maybe you can live for a bit longer here," Ruan Nanzhu said.

Cheng Yixie agreed. He didn't even get his parents' permission before leaving the hospital. He flew to the city where Ruan Nanzhu lived that night.

This was actually quite the risky gamble, because Cheng Yixie couldn't be sure if Ruan Nanzhu actually had any good will toward him. He was just a helpless kid, and if Ruan Nanzhu really wanted to do something to him, he had no chance of even resisting.

But Cheng Yixie could only make the gamble, because Cheng Qianli didn't have much time left.

There was an obvious contrast now that Cheng Yixie was getting healthier. Cheng Qianli was like a plant approaching winter; life was flowing out of him at a rate visible to the naked eye.

After arriving at Obsidian, the first thing he asked upon meeting Ruan Nanzhu was, "can other people get the doors too?"

To his question, Ruan Nanzhu was silent for a while, before saying, "yes, but I'm not telling you how."

"Why not?" Cheng Yixie asked.

"Because you pay with somebody else's life," Ruan Nanzhu said. "Can you do such a thing?"

Cheng Yixie was silent.

Ruan Nanzhu didn't continue the topic, only gave him a simple introduction to the doors. He told him about the hints, about Obsidian, and about some other things. Of course, from start to finish, he never once told Cheng Yixie how to steal somebody else's door. He only warned Cheng Yixie to hide his identity inside the door, or else there would be danger.

Cheng Yixie paid close attention. As he listened, however, he kept thinking about Cheng Qianli. He was thinking that even if he did steal a door for Cheng Qianli, would Cheng Qianli be able to make it out?

The worlds inside the doors were so scary, and didn't suit the naive Cheng Qianli at all. Even if he stole the doors for Cheng Qianli like Ruan Nanzhu said, would it be just another form of torture for Cheng Qianli?

He was so small, and so scared of the dark. He was so completely different from Cheng Yixie. He was just a normal kid.

That night, Cheng Yixie sat in the garden by himself for a long, long time. It wasn't until dawn emerged over the horizon that he rubbed his dry eyes and went impassively back into the house.

What Cheng Yixie was thinking, nobody knew. Since that day on, he never once returned home, and he never once contacted Cheng Qianli.

Is it because your brother's too stupid? So you don't like him anymore? someone asked Cheng Yixie once. Cheng Yixie didn't say anything in return, just shot that person an icy look.

The reason he didn't go back and didn't contact Cheng Qianli was because he was scared. He was scared that he wouldn't be able to control himself, and he would do something out of bounds.

He didn't even dare try to think about Cheng Qianli dying. The moment he thought about it, many terrifying thoughts would surface in his mind.

Cheng Qianli was the calamity in Cheng Yixie's life that he could never escape; he knew that for this brother of his, he could cross even the lowest lines.

And when he became conscious of this, the only thing Cheng Yixie could do was reduce the influence Cheng Qianli had on him—even if the reduction process was tantamount to cutting out a part of himself by brute force.

They were twins. Twins linked by blood. A single glance, a single look, and they could understand what the other was thinking; even a thousand miles away, Cheng Yixie could feel Cheng Qianli growing gradually weaker.

Cheng Yixie thought everything would end like this. But one afternoon, he got a call from Cheng Qianli.

To this very day, Cheng Yixie could recall the weather then.

It was a drizzling spring day, and the shrubs in the yard were lush with greenery. Everything was filled with the breath of revival. And Cheng Qianli's voice came from the other end of the line, sniffling and a little bit weak. He cried, "Ge, Ge, I'm so scared—"

Cheng Yixie, "what's wrong?" He'd sensed something, and his voice couldn't help but tighten in alarm.

"I went into a door." Cheng Qianli spoke in frail stutters. "There were so many ghosts inside. I finally came out. Am I dreaming…When are you coming back…I miss you so much…" It seemed he was growing unconscious, slowly beginning to mumble nonsense.

As Cheng Yixie listened, however, he began to laugh quietly. He laughed until tears came out, and said, "don't be scared. Gege's here. Wait for Gege to come back."

Gege will protect you.

And so, Cheng Yixie understood that he'd never escape Cheng Qianli the calamity. He would use every single method at his disposal to protect Cheng Qianli's life. He would see him grow up, marry, have children. His children would have children and he would definitely live on and prosper.

Author's Note:

Here's the long-awaited twins extra!

[Extra: Shameless Couple(2)] | [Extra: Twin Lives, Twin Deaths(2)]

[chibiwritesstuff]

Hey! I'm the one that asked for the Lilia and Malleus ask. I love what you wrote so much man! (My poor heart died 😂) I am a big sucker for happy endings tho. So when you get the time can I ask for a happy ending ?

Ha, my laptop thought they won against me but I came out victorious (even though I took literal months to publish this.) In my defense, all the versions I’ve written for this didn't suit my tastes (not that this is any good either.) Hope this makes justice for such a long wait. Here’s the sequel/good ending for the angst fic.

Now, let’s enter this twisted wonderland~

Walking past the now dying garden that used to flourish in Ramshackle dorm, he sighed as he reminisces about the times you two stroll and spends time together. It's been years since you’ve left NRC, He and Lilia are about to graduate tomorrow, Silver will be a fourth-year student and the new vice-dorm leader while Sebek will be in his third year and the dorm leader much to the said fae’s surprise. He chuckled at the memory of how honored and tearful the young fae is upon being selected as its prefect.

“I have so much to tell you, (y/n).” He whispered at the wind.

“Hey, Tsunotarou!” The familiar voice of the tanuki cat being called that long-forgotten name.

“Hey, Tsunotarou! Are we going on a walk again tonight?” You smiled at him, your hand extended as an invitation.

“Grimm, wasn’t it?” He crouched down to pet the said creature.

“Hey! I’m not a pet!” The flames on his ears flared, responding to his emotions. “What are you doing here, anyway? The roses are all dead.”

A wave of sadness flashed in his eyes as another memory resurfaced. Returning his gaze towards the dead flowerbed, he let the memory linger.

“Thanks for the seeds, Tsunotarou!” You excitedly began digging and planting said seeds. “To commemorate our friendship, these roses will be our friendship roses!”

“Yes, they are…” His hand ceased from moving before sitting down the ground. “It’s all gone…”

“By the way, I never managed to get the courage to ask you but why did (y/n) went back home crying that time?”

“I was but a foolish man…” The young heir steered his gaze towards the night sky before closing his eyes. “Had I just enjoyed the present than worry about the future, perhaps they would still be here and smile brightly like they always had.”

“I’m sure if you say sorry, they’ll forgive you.” Grimm responded nonchalantly. “They said saying sorry is the first step to forgiveness… or something like that.”

He chuckled and stood up heading towards his dorm. “If things were only that easy…”

That night, he slept and dreamt about you two walking in the bed of roses you’ve grown at Ramshackle. Loving every single moment that you two get to spend subconsciously knowing that once he wakes up, he’ll return to the harsh reality of you not being by his side.

“Tsunotaro, I think I have fallen for you.” You quietly said warmth spreading across your cheeks. “Will you let me stay by your side till the last breath I take?”

This is all but a dream… so I can keep dreaming, right?

“Yes, only if you’ll let me do the same.”

“Really?!” Joy showed throughout your being which made him smile back. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow! Happy graduation!”

He woke up gasping for air. That dream sounded too good to be true and yet… he can’t help but be hopeful. Putting on a happy face, he got dressed on what Lilia laid out for him and this time, everybody remembered to tell him the time of the celebration. He can’t help but laugh just thinking what your reaction would have been about the changes of the students' behavior towards him after he tried to socialize better. Heading towards the stage getting his diploma as odd as it is, he acted formally as he mingled with the rest of the dorm leaders until a voice echoed throughout the area.

“Tsunotarou!” Receiving a hug from the back as the voice caught him off guard, he turned still not believing what he’s seeing. “Congrats on graduating!”

“(y/n)?” His voice faltered, overwhelmed with so many emotions. “How? Why? I –”

“Uh-oh… Lilia! Your king here is having an information overload!” You called which made the said fae laugh out loud.

“How are you here?” He finally managed to ask. “The mirror –”

“Ah, that would be my doing…” Idia whispered but managed to catch everyone’s attention. “It was an accident! I was messing around to make a teleporter so I can just teleport to the store than having to leave the dorm but it ended up making people travel through dreams then I managed to talk to (y/n). Then we both decided we might as well try to make travel here and back to their world possible.”

“Looks like you did meet me once upon a dream, yeah?” You grinned at the joke about his ancestor’s song.

He merely hugged you, savoring each second of being around your arms. “I don’t have anything ready but if you’ll give me a second chance…”

He lets go and kneeled on one knee before looking up to you once more. “Will you be my spouse till the day you draw your last breath?”

Time is but a blink of an eye for fae and before he knew it, the Star Sending is happening once again. He was happy when Silver and Sebek were chosen to be Star Gazers albeit the mentioned students aren’t. He strummed his electric guitar with no particular music in mind as he lets his mind wander until his gaze dropped on a familiar mug.

“Happy Birthday, Lilia!” You grinned as you handed him a mug that said “No. 1 Gamer Dad” on it. “Hope you like it!”

His lips curled into a faint smile as he remembered that day. It's been a year since you left and yet it felt like it was just yesterday. Letting go of the instrument, he walked towards the mug and lifted it intending to fill it with tomato juice.

“How have you been, little one?” He spoke towards the image of you in his head. “I hope life is treating you better in your world.”

Without me in it… he sighed as sadness filled his chest. If I could change the past, or at least be given another chance… will you give your love to me once more?

“Old m –” Silver cleared his throat before entering. “I mean, Lilia. I’m here to take your wish.”

He took a deep breath before putting a huge smile to face his son. “Ah, yes of course! You know my wish. I wish for both –”

“Stop.”

This surprised the old fae as his son never raised his voice on him. “We both know that that’s not your true wish.”

“Silver, do humor me and just let me finish my wish.” He pouted, swirling the tomato juice in the mug before drinking it.

“Father, we all know how much you love them.” The young knight sighed before taking a seat on a nearby chair. “You always gush about them whenever we eat or do anything.”

“Oh Silver, I appreciate the concern but sometimes you got to let go.” A forlorn smile graced his lips.

“And sometimes you have to be selfish!” Both of them looked surprised at his outburst yet Silver regained his composure and continued. “You love them, right?! Then why not be with them? You took me in out of love, right?”

“There’s a big difference here, Silver.” Lilia rubbed his temple as stress starts to build up.

“What’s the difference? We’re both humans with a short lifespan so you can't use that as an excuse!” His silver eyes narrowing as he gazed upon his father before widening. “You’re afraid, aren’t you?”

He let out a defeated chuckle before nodding. “You’ve grown so much, Silver. I’m so proud of you, you know?”

“Why? You could have been happily living with them.”

“Because I’m afraid to witness her death if we ever do start a family together.” At last, the older fae began letting his tears fall in front of his son. “I don’t think I’ll be able to survive seeing her pass while I still live on. I want it to last for all eternity but to remove her mortality is too inhumane.”

“I-I’m sorry…” Silver lowered his head, having a little understanding of what he meant. “I didn’t mean to –”

“So, for my wish this Star Sending…” After a pathetic attempt to control his tears, he gulped and continued. “I want to be given another chance to be with them… and this time, I’ll bear the pain of losing them when the time comes.”

A shine of light filled the wishing star confirmed his wish inside the item. Silver walked towards him and let the man cry his heart out in his arms. He both felt sad and honored that Lilia is willing to cry in front of him. He truly hopes that his father’s wish is granted. Bringing out the wishing star, he proclaimed his wish.

“I wish (y/n) can return in twisted wonderland once more.”

“Silver, you didn’t have to waste your wish for this…”

“I don’t mind having a parent like them.” He smiled before heading towards the door with both wishing stars at hand. “They’re a much better cook than you anyway.”

“Hey!”

The day of Star Sending has arrived and everybody is once again by the huge tree behind NRC. It went well without a hitch and Lilia’s phone filled with recordings of Sebek and Silver dancing in perfect sync towards the taiko being played by Jack of Savanaclaw. As all students began returning to their dorms, the bat fae decided to stay a little longer and was given privacy by the rest of the Diasomnia students.

“Catch me, Lilia!” A voice screamed from above.

Turning his attention to the voice’s origin. His eyes widened before extending his arms ready to catch the person. A huge smile on his face as you landed safely into his arms. You let out a sigh of relief as you steadied yourself in his hold.

“Do not question why I was up in the air.” You huffed, glaring at the sky. “Safe landing my ass! I was dropped off 50ft up in the air!”

“My oh my, did you fall in love with me all over again?” He teased as he covertly wiped his tears.

“I saw that and maybe but I would still prefer a much safer landing.” You huffed before smiling at him. “What happened to the ‘I wish for world peace between all creatures’ wish, huh?”

“How did you know?”

“My coworker and I were trying to make a portal to get me back here because I forgot some stuff here to grab and funnily enough those wishing stars became our fuel source to open that portal.” You pulled out your phone and confirmed your arrival with a whole long spiel on how the landing would have killed you if you weren’t caught by Lilia. “But by your wish I assume there’s no need for me to get packing away from here?”

“Yes, if you’ll give me another chance.” He held out his hand, a makeshift flower ring on his palm. “Will you give me the honor of being your significant other?”

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

A god's key to victory | Fyodor x Reader |

I got this idea whilst talking with another Fyodor simp. May mercy be spared on me for this piece.

A god's key to victory | Fyodor x reality-warping reader |

Disclaimers/ Warnings: Definitely a ton of mental manipulation. Obsessive themes. Depictions of abuse, controlling actions, violence, dystopia.

The moon shone elegantly, glimmering through the glass pane of your room. Off in the distance, there was life. Outside the glimmering stone walls of this cell-like room. The golden ring on your finger brought nothing but torment. At one point this choice had been easy. He’d finally broken you into submission. Even as the world submitted to his views, there lay a single person who could undo everything. If he touched you with a single finger, all of this would be gone. Fyodor had no room for the human emotion of love. Even though he did love you in his twisted way. He gave you everything, from jewels to fine silks. He teaches you his language and lets you see his rare moments of compassion.

This world was perfect, yet here you were broken. When had it happened? When had he stripped you of your free will? Your joy? Your liveliness? The smile he had no explanation for loving? The fight that made him fall evermore for you? He was a god now, a true god who dictated the crime and the punishment of this city. That had been it, hadn't it? The moment you used your ability so widely. The day he stripped this world of its filth. The day you became the goddess by his side. He had strained you too far. You seemed so numb now. Yet, it didn’t stop him from holding you on his lap and leaving pecks around your neck. You were all he needed in this world. If somebody touched you, he'd simply kill them. There were moments where your light returned, moments where he saw that glimmer of fight and joy.

It had started years ago, when you were naive and worked alongside the scum of this world. He’d met you in a cafe. He found the meeting rather... cliche. You had to work multiple jobs to pay for your place and support your life. He’d watched the way you avoided eye-contact with others. The way you so easily switched between personalities dependent on whom you were serving. You read through people so easily it was interesting to him. Nobody else seemed to notice that it wasn’t the real you. When you get to his table your eyes fell cold and distant. He had given you a mere smirk. You only needed one look to know how to warp his view. Your ability allowed you to push what you wanted onto anybody else. It warped the very fabric of the space you were around. He understood that within moments. He was after all a highly intelligent man.

When you begin to act smug and cold just how he was, he could only chuckle. You amused him. That alone was a dangerous feat; Gaining the interest of a man who thought of himself as a god. From then on he became a regular. He memorized what days you worked and the time. He’d sit there until your shift ended. With each of those passing days, he would find a way to talk to you. He observed the way you acted. Your eyes were the giveaway to it all. To almost everybody, you could pass for anybody. Yet, when he looked into your eyes, he found the light of a scared and naive child. He found it a fun game to change what he wanted each day. The confusion that passed your face, even if it only lasted a tenth of a second, filled his pride. You stumbled over what facade to act on.

It took a month for him to completely figure you out. When that happened you were doomed. He would begin his manipulation. He wanted you on his side. The things your ability could do for him were too enticing to pass up. He whispered soft words filled with false emotions. At least, that was what he called them at first. He never admitted it to himself, and so that’s what it was. It was all just a facade to gain your trust and snatch you away. To him, you were not a sinner like the others. You were something pure and unaware of the world's terror.

When he found you worked with the very agency that continued to stunt his plans, he became agitated. It was a minor setback. The one person he knows rivals his intelligence sat among that agency. His name was Dazai and to his luck, the two of you seemed rather… close. He would joke around with you a lot. That pink tint he had grown accustomed to forcing onto your cheeks would pass at his words. It grew an emotion he hated. This emotion wanted you for himself.

So, the next time he saw you, he began to ask you about your views on this world. Just as he had predicted you were nothing but innocent. You never noticed how you showed the real version of yourself to him. Laughing after work hours. He had started as a stranger, but now you trusted him enough to go drinking. You held up a glass with a rather bright smile. Still, unaware of his complex. He’d watch you drink and memorize your reactions to every little movement he made. “What do you think about the world?” he would need this sliver of information before he began his little game of cat and mouse. How far would he have to change your views to align with his?

“My views? Huh, I guess I haven't thought about it before.” you would laugh looking over to him. It was the first time you made real eye-contact. It felt so warm despite how cold his eyes looked. It sent an unfamiliar shiver down your spine. It shouted he was dangerous, yet you didn’t look away and continued to answer him. “I guess, I see the world as a scale. A world with evil and good? I think as the world is now. The scale is tipped in the darkness.” Fyodor would nod as if he were agreeing with you. Even if he didn’t, he wanted to make you feel safe and comfortable in his arms.

People are easier to control when they trust the person who is trying to gain control. If you opened up, he could sway and twist your own words to fit his own needs. “Then what is your ideal world?” he would often ask this question.

You would think for a moment before smiling with a hopeful glint in your eyes. “A world without suffering and pain! A world that’s just a bit less violent. It would be even on the scale. Enough evil to keep order but enough good to keep the peace. Things like the seven sins would be needed but, things like violence would be less frequent. People would feel safe walking in the night. Murders would be 1 in a million of chance. I want a peaceful world.” you would answer him honestly, and he’d hide his smirk. It would be so easy to twist your thoughts. The Armed Detective Agency stood in his way though. You believed being there would help the world; Even though that agency was filled with vile scum.

He’d begun to show you the truth, his truth. At first, he’d only suggest it. The suggestion that this violence was brought on by ability users. At first, you'd stick your tongue out and point out how you were one. When he made the assumption it was too early to begin that part of his mind game, he set his sights on bringing you closer. He wanted a step up from friends. He wanted to be able to touch you. So he slowly began to make his role in your life more prominent. “Your work, do you have a thing for anybody?” he would not be subtle with this.

When you told him you appreciate your friends there but, found you could never really love them because nobody else knew this you. He had thought you acted like this around your co-workers. Dazai could see through your ability, but it appeared that was not enough. You didn’t need an ability to pretend. That pulled his interest more. By now there was no going back. He had you in his grasp, and he would never let you go. “I don’t like anybody in that way.” when those words left your lips he would wrap his arms around you and lift your chin with a smug smirk. He’d let go immediately to watch your confusion. He would leave the bar to make sure that the moment kept its hold on you.

Just as he predicted you were distracted at work. And within the next two months, you began to trust him. Your co-workers knew nothing about this man. He had asked you to keep him from people he didn’t know. He lied about what he did for a living. He told you his work involved the government and telling anybody you knew him put himself and you in danger. So you were vague when your friends called you out on daydreaming or letting your attention drift. They asked, but you shrugged it off. When it got too much you simply came out with it. “I think I fell in love.” These words shocked even yourself. The faces of your coworkers were distant as you smiled to yourself.

He would only smirk, waiting for you that night at the bar, as if he knew nothing. He’d tease you. His body growing too close for comfort. He’d wrap strands of your hair in his fingers. Whisper little things that made you question yourself and your relationship with him. It took two months before he noticed even the smallest eye-contact would turn your face into that beautiful shade of rose. He’d lean down and finally give you what you had been wishing for. A soft peck on the lips. When you squealed in response he would snicker. “Something wrong, little mouse?” he would ask you the question waiting for your reaction. When you grew more embarrassed and attempted to hide your face, his dominance slipped from the facade he had been using around you. The glow of his eyes shaking you to your core. “It’s only natural to be so… adoring over a god.” That was the first time you had heard Fyodor call himself a god. If he did that in the start you'd have completely tossed him aside. Yet it was hypnotizing now that you had already fallen into his grasps. He always got what he wanted. Right now that was you and your ability.

The next step began in hints and murmurs. He would bring up your ideal world and put the question into your head. “What do you think makes that scale tip into evil?” when you respond with violence he’d nod and act like he was thinking. He was tricking you with terrifying ease. “This violence? Who causes it?” you would tilt your head before the answer peeked in. The one time he had mentioned abilities being at fault consuming your reason. You would argue in your mind until the answer you normally went for came to you.

“Violence is made from suffering.” you would smile and shift in your seat. You never initiated contact with him. You were too nervous too. He would hold back his agitation and nod understandingly. His hand cupping your chin to pull you to his lips. He was always rough with you; He knew how it affected you.

You kept it a secret from the agency for a while. Dazai eventually figured it out and asked if you were seeing somebody. You had only nodded and walked out to leave for the night.

It took a handful of weeks, but he did crack your mind eventually. It took some nudges, but he got you to start taking in his views. He would run a thumb over your hand and whisper things about the mafia. Like how if they didn’t have the powerful ability users they had, the crimes they committed would be punished. It would drive you to rethink your views. “So without abilities violence would be less? No, violence would be punished easier? That would lead to a decrease in crime from fear of being caught.” you would mumble your thoughts aloud unknowingly. He got pleasure from seeing you drift towards what he believed.

The next obstacle came ripping you from your current living style. You hadn’t noticed how your every free hour was spent by him. He did his work with you so sneakily, you didn’t see how you no longer had control of your life. He could get you to stay from work with a simple strand of words. He pulled you to his home one night. It was rather large compared to what you had thought. He began to show you sides of himself you haven't noticed. The sides that would have repulsed you now dragged you into him. Once you made a permanent residence in his home he began to talk about his views. You took them in and listened. Your chats were normally short. You took care of him. He smirked at how your dependence on him began to grow. You came home exhausted, and he’d plant you on his lap. His hand massaging your tired muscles.

He had to work rather hard to get you to leave the agency, but it happened. Now that you viewed ability users in the same light he did, all he had to do was show you the darker sides of your friends. Dazai’s past seemed to shatter you. You were betrayed and hurt. Fyodor did not waste a moment, he rebuilt your shattered heart around himself. He whispered how you only needed him and nobody else. You fell, trapped in that web.

At some point, you began to see him as your savior. He was the only person you trusted and didn't feel revolted by. You had stopped interacting with the outside world. There were times when you got annoyed with him and would scold him for forgetting to take meds, or stay warm. You found yourself smiling and laughing at his side. He showed you his co-workers eventually. When he had to go on trips he made sure they kept an eye on you. You could always call him if you felt down without him.

A year into this he made the move to make you permanently his. A ring on your finger. Something that made you smile with joy whenever you looked down at it. He began calling you his goddess from then on. You felt like you meant something to this world. For the first time, you were yourself without any insecurities.

He would never admit it, but that smile sent an unfamiliar flutter in his chest. He never laid a hand on you, but his words did enough. He so easily controlled you. If you displeased him he only needed to ignore you or give you a stern and cold glare. Those actions would have you on your knees, tears falling, and pleas for forgiveness leaving your lips. You never noticed how abusive this was. It may not be physically abusive, but this thing you had with your husband was most definitely mental abuse. Yet, you turned a blind eye. You never noticed. You were so starved for his love. You did anything for him.

So, when the fateful day came you pushed yourself just to achieve that perfect world. You were the key to his ascension. The key to a perfect world. The people who you once called friends came into your home threatening to take away the life that made you happy. They called you a traitor, yet Dazai took pity on how easily you had been manipulated. He could have prevented this had he seen through you. It was too late now and you’d need to be in rehab once they caught Fyodor. When those sounds reached your ears you could only panic.

Your heart raced as you ran to Fyodor. You clung onto him like a life-line. When they saw this everybody shook their heads in a clear disappointment. With riffles targeting you, Fyodor could only smirk. He looked down at you, leaning down, he kissed your cheek and whispered. “Warp this city to paradise. Can you do that for me, my little goddess?” he spoke with a false softness in his voice.

You looked to Dazai with fear, but when you blinked he saw no difference. The aim lights that had been on you and your husband shifted onto the agency. You had used your ability. Dazai knew he had to touch you to fix this. Fyodor also knew that so, he placed you behind him. Pulling a knife from his pocket, he merely smirked. “How do you plan to get over here Dazai?” he taunted before warning shots echoed and the agency members dropped to their knees. “We win.” he gave a final kick to dazai’s face. When they were cuffed and pulled away, Fyodor finally turned back to you.

You shook with fear and confusion, but the moment he wrapped you in his arms you were safe. You held onto him snuggling into his chest.

It took you two days to completely envelope Yokohama in your ability. Anybody who entered would fall victim. When you were done you fell, exhausted.

Even as the realization of what you had done enveloped you, there was no reaction. Fyodor found it upsetting at times. You were numb so often yet, in those fleeting moments where life poked in, he adored it.

This world looked perfect even though it was far from it. If anything this paradise you had made was a nightmare. There was peace and comfort; People were safe and pure. The only true evil that balanced the good of this scale were Fyodor, the demon, and his fallen angel; The god and goddess of this new paradise. He had most of the ability users wiped out, but the few who had held positions before your ability was used were kept alive.

“Look at our world, isn’t it beautiful?” he asked, whilst holding you on his lap. You merely nodded a soft, joyful glimmer appearing in your eyes before it left, just as suddenly as it appeared.

“I love you.” you would whisper the words, hoping to hear it back from his lips.

This once he thought, he’d say it just this once. “I love you too, my little mouse turned goddess.” that brought a smile to your lips. A real smile, one he hadn’t seen in ages.

[barnesandco]

Eat the Rich: Chapter 2

Eat the Rich Masterlist

The Avengers are tasked with tracking down an elusive thief, and retrieving the grand amounts of money she has stolen. Even after capture, she turns out to be impossible to break, save for a mystifying interest in Bucky.

Written for @mermaidxatxheart​ ‘s #jamiesmadwritingbash, under the Robin Hood AU prompt.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: mentions of Bucky’s Hydra days, and a short mention of dissociation. Disaster Avengers having breakfast.

A/N: I really really really love that people are saying they like the reader bc that’s the character people envision themselves as when they insert themselves into this kind of fanfic. I hope you enjoy what more we get to see of the reader here. So enjoy, and please continue to reblog and comment -- it makes this so much fun!

I’m not doing taglists, but you can follow and turn on notifications for @ayeshaupdates​​ to be notified when I post.

Divider by the fantastically talented @whimsicalrogers​​!

The dispute that had ensued after Bucky had voiced his wish to Steve had turned to resigned acceptance by the time the first slivers of dawn had started to creep across pristine floors, and Bucky found himself victorious. It's a grim glory that accompanies him down the hall and into the cell you had been moved into for the night. There's no mode of observation for this room, save for the presently closed viewing panel in the door. It's really early, and even though he doubts that you're asleep, given the stressful circumstances, his hand pauses where it's about to knock on the door.

With Steve having left for his run with Sam, and the others asleep or inactive in some way, shape or form, he's alone in the silver hallways of this portion of the Compound. Hand still in the air, tight fist, white knuckles and lip bitten red, and then he composes himself. Stepping away, he sits down on the floor, back against the wall and knees pulled up. 

While he waits, he listens, even if all he can hear is his own heartbeat and the faint, collective chorus of the birds chirping. The sturdy walls and doors between your bed and his floor prevent any speculation on your activities, since the only monitoring permitted is that of vital signs so an alert can be raised if there is danger. He could open the panel, but that might wake you and he doesn't want that. Whether this disruption, and how it is sure to initiate the crucial dialogue he’s here for, is undesired for his sake or yours is unclear. 

His head meets the metal behind him, and the cold stings at his scalp, but Bucky stays that way. Likes the cold bite of it, on occasions such as these, when he needs the ice-crystal clarity of mind, and he knows it'll warm up soon, under his touch. Likes knowing that Hydra doesn't control him all the time, that he can feel the prickle of freezing skin without having a debilitating flashback to cryostasis is indicative of how far he's come. He's no longer the man Steve flew to New Zealand for a month after he had a hellish dissociative episode courtesy of New York's first snowfall.

The metal thaws behind him, sunlight through the thin sliver of window at the top of the wall slides higher on the door. Opalescent solar glare on silver steel, half a rainbow in his exhausted eyes, and the weight of evaporating dew in the air is what precedes a conversation that has his stomach in knots and crosses.

The digital, holographic clock strikes nine above the cell door. 

Rising to his feet, Bucky can feel every single one of his 103 years in his back, the avoirdupois of a century's lamentable events on his weary shoulders. So he does a breathing exercise before he tries the door again.

Allowing his lungs to expand to their full capacity, and then holding that breath there until his alveoli scream, before exhaling in a rush of sweet-cereal scented breath, makes him feel less stone-like. More muscle than metal, soft and pliable and open. Steve would argue that that's perilous, here, in front of a woman who's so touch-and-go, all breakneck smiles, but he's not an Avenger when he enters that room -- he's Bucky Barnes, looking for more pieces of himself, pieces that he'll never find if his eyes are shut tight against the impact.

You answer upon the second knock. "Come in." Your voice lilts to a light taunt, but it’s effect is minimized by the drowsy scratch of your voice. Opening the door after letting it recognize his irises, Bucky thinks that the same can be said about the Christmas-just-came-early spark in your eyes, when they're underlined by dark bags. You're still wearing the green hoodie.

" 'Morning," he says softly, pausing in the doorway. The cell contains a metal chair of the same style as those in the interrogation rooms, and the cot you're sitting up in, back against the wall behind you. There's a small door in one corner that he knows leads to a toilet cubicle.

"To what do I owe this extraordinary pleasure, Mr. Barnes?"

"Bucky," he blurts unthinkingly, and your eyes widen in surprise and amusement. His guard is down, and he needs to be cautious. "And you can thank yourself for being so goddamn persistent and getting on everybody’s nerves."

The smirk brought to your face is aimed at your hands, bound loosely in front of you. A more tender expression than most seen before. The long, fretful night seems to be taking its toll on you. Perhaps you’re slipping. Or perhaps you’re pretending to, his instincts warn. He sighs, clenches his hands into fists, lets his nails dig into his palm. Metal whirs, purrs, and he releases when you move both bound hands towards the chair in front of you. 

Bucky sits down, rubs his palms back and forth over his thighs, lets the grainy feel of the denim under scratch at his hands. "You know me,” he begins.

"Not nearly as well as I'd like,” you say with a grin, looking up from your hands. He glowers. 

"I'm serious."

Your smile widens. "So am I. Come a little closer. I don't bite,” you tease, and he decides to take you up on it. Gets up and sits on the cot a couple of feet away from you, folding one leg up so his foot is under his thigh and keeping the other on the floor. You’re unfazed at having your bluff called. "...Unless you want me to,” you finish, and he ignores it. 

"You kept asking for me while you were being questioned.”

“You were watching? Did you like what you see?”

The temptation to roll his eyes is strong, but he manages to hold it in check, and fixes a strong focus on you. This is important. It’s about his life. “You wanted to talk to me, so here I am. Now let’s talk.”

“Where would you like to start?”

“How about your name?”

“Oh, you’ll have to get to know me a little better if you want me to give up that secret. Try again," you urge, and he huffs. Like drawing blood from a rock. 

Every question he could ask, every query he needs an answer to is being whirled around in the chaotic storm in his head, and it's so difficult to pick out just one. “Have we met?” He decides upon, momentarily forgoing the alternatives: Who are you? Why do I feel like I know you? Why do I feel like you're important? What part of me do you hold in those bound hands of yours?

Head tilted upwards, you consider the ceiling while searching for an answer. “Briefly.” And then you pause. Bite your lip, look down, make a so-so motion with your head. “Well, I wouldn’t say met, exactly. I wreaked some havoc and you watched.” That tells me jack-shit, sweetheart.

“When?”

“February of 2013," you respond instantaneously. Good memory. That's useful. 

“So I was with Hydra," he assumes, instantly going down all the roads he might know you by. A mission, a murder, more violence, another apology. Were you partners in crime, or his target? Or were you just in the way?

“I don’t agree with that phrasing, but yes, I suppose so."

“Did we work together?” He dares to question. 

There's a change: a tangible shift in the atmosphere, like the scent of ozone in the air before a thunderstorm. The stiffening of your posture, how you sit up straighter but hunch your shoulders against some invisible attack tells him he's touching a nerve, nearing cyclone waters. It takes a moment for the mask to fall back into place over your face, before you're able to answer, with venom, repulsed. “God, no. I would never work for them.” It's the most sincere emotion he's heard from you, this disgust. It eases him to know how strongly you feel about Hydra, but he’s wary of your raw response to it.

So, he treads more kindly. Softly. On eggshells sharp and off-white, feeling his way around the balance of your temper. “Then how did we meet?”

“I was on a heist,” you say, matter-of-factly. In your tone of voice, now even and professional, it sounds like the most natural thing in the world. As though stealing from megalomaniac neo-Nazis is just another day at work.

“What kind of heist? Who sent you?” Bucky observes the way you're pulling the edges of your sleeves over your hands as much as you can with your restraints. At this question, your smile returns, and he relaxes. Can now feel his leg falling asleep under him now that he's not so tense.

“Nobody sent me. I’m a free agent. I work for myself,” you announce, chin up. 

“What were you going to steal from Hydra?” He asks, and your head turns slowly towards him, firework sparkle meeting level, cool, sky-blue, a hurricane simmering behind his irises.

“You.”

“We did not sign up for this,” Barton grumbles from his second cup of coffee -- addicts, the lot of them -- adjusting his hearing aid with a frown on his face at the turn of events. 

Sam clears his throat, setting down a half-empty glass of orange juice next to Natasha’s espresso on the table and speaks next, “That’s messed up, man, that’s really, really messed up.” This is said with a shake of his head, and Bucky, having no response to either Barton or Sam, addresses Steve.

“There’s something she’s not telling me, Rogers.” He uses the last name to revert to the days of talking shop in green tents with the gravity of impending shelling in the air. Life or death, and though the circumstances aren’t quite so acute right now, this is a grave matter, too. Steve's standing hunched over the kitchen island, arms outstretched and hands flat on the granite surface, studying the pattern like it holds all the answers. 

Bucky watches him think, but Stark, in Spider-Man PJs and the bed-head of the century, strolls into the kitchen at a leisurely pace and interrupts. “There are a lot of things she’s not telling you. Who she is, where the money is, wh--”

“She’s not telling me why," Bucky interrupts a tirade that he knows could continue forever, given the chance. “People don’t go around stealing super soldier assassins for the hell of it.”

“Maybe she’s working for someone who wanted you to work for them instead of Hydra," Peter suggests over a ridiculously large bowl of ridiculously colorful cereal at the breakfast nook.

“She doesn’t work for anyone. Says she’s a free agent."

“And you believe her?” Sam wonders. It's a genuine question, curious but not dismissive or doubtful. 

“Barnes has quite the built-in lie detector," Nat tells Sam from next to him, her yoga-pant clad legs splayed across another chair. Yeah, he’s good at telling when people are being dishonest, but there’s also the fact this woman is way too fearless, fucking crazy to be made to do anyone's bidding. No chance in Hell does she takes orders. 

Tony slumps in an orange loveseat. “Must be a Russian thing," he quips, and then breaks out into a yawn.

Bucky puts his hands on his hips and glares at all of them, by turn, sharply. "Would you let me finish?" He demands. "She couldn't tell me why she was going to steal me from Hydra, but she said she'd show me." One could hear a pin drop in this room, now, the bustle of Avengers replaced by the obviously preposterous proposition Bucky's relaying. "Just me," he adds.

"Me?" He asks, voice rising in pitch and volume, and he fights to control both, rising to his feet. "Why would you steal me?"

"Have you seen you?" You ask back, eyes scintillating, glowing with mirth. "Gorgeous hair, those eyes, and hands that I'm sure know how to treat a girl right.”

Bucky looks daggers at you, and you look back. "I'm serious."

"I thought you were Bucky,” you say innocently, and he thinks he could scream in frustration, but he drops down, kneels just beside where you sit, and holds onto the edge of the cot like it’s the end of the world he’s falling off of.

"I don't think you understand how important this is to me. You know something about me you won't say. I've been trying to put together my past so I can understand myself better and you have a piece of my history. I need to know,” he enunciates each word as if it’s his last. Needs to convey the severity of the situation, how he has been trying to rebuild himself into a new life from the scraps of the old ones. He’s aware that he’s complete as he is but he also makes choices for himself now, and he chooses to know.

You look down, and although it’s your hands that are bound, you offer a golden prayer. "Let me show you." A lifeline, something he doesn’t want to believe and doesn’t know if he can trust. Hence, the question:

"What?"

A sad shrug of your shoulders is the first answer, and it all starts to unravel from there. "I can't tell you, I really can't. It's complicated and a really long story--"

Bucky elevates himself on his knees, his fingers dig in a little tighter, and the metal of the bed begins to creak ever so slightly. "The way I see it, we have all the time in the world, darlin'," he says in a thick voice, emotion simmering at the corners of his lips.

"Darlin'?" You can’t help but ask, without any flirt this time, any teasing, just a question in a tone as surprised as he is at the slip of tongue.

Bucky decides to ignore the interruption. "So let's start at the beginning.”

Fervently, you shake your head. "I can't." At his wide-eyed disbelief, "I mean it, I can't."

"No, you can, you just won't,” he insists.

"We could have a grammar lesson if you want, or I could show you why I was going to steal the Winter Soldier."

"What do you mean show me?" Bucky asks, moving to sit on the chair again. Leaning forward, he places his hands on his thighs, looks into your eyes to pull forth the words you won’t give him.

You blink, unbudgingly. "I have to take you somewhere. It's the only way to explain."

A sharp bark of a laugh escapes him, and he shakes his head as it recedes into chuckles. Your face is now blank and expressionless, gauging how to handle this, and he gives you the first response that comes to mind. "You're full of shit."

"What happened to darlin' ?"

Meeting your eyes, he says, “You want me to let you out so you can escape. A five-year-old could see through that.” Then, Bucky leans back in his chair, crosses one ankle over the other as well his arms. His hooded gaze is at a stalemate with yours, and it’s a hopeless tug of war. So this is how it ends. A night spent sleepless in vain, a few battle bruises and the tug of disappointment in his belly.

A dismal, and last-ditch sigh ripples through the air, from lips dark and worried bloody. Your eyes look overcast and you open and close your mouth repeatedly to say something, but do not voice your thoughts. Giving you the time to formulate whatever perfect sentence you’re trying to utter is torturous, but he waits. Until you stop, speechless, and he gets to his feet. Turns to the door, and then you speak from behind him, while his hand hovers over the handle.

"Let me take you, and only you, to the place you need to see, and I'll cooperate. I'll give you what I have left of the money, and I'll plead guilty in court and serve my time.” Bucky freezes. "Just come with me,” and you’re the one making requests, making pleas now. It’s inexplicable, he knows he should be looking this particular gift horse in the mouth, and he convinces himself that he will, in time, but right now, he accepts.

"Was that an innuendo?" He asks, still facing away, the question indicating a truce.

"If you want it to be," you say, and he turns around to look at you. "What do you say, Barnes, are we going on a road trip?

Hope swells somewhere in him he thought had been long abandoned for darker days and arduous nights. The same intuition that taught him to ask for this piece of himself tells him something is coming. Something that’s going to make a difference.

"Bucky. It's Bucky. And yeah, I guess we are.”

[ramibvnd]

Genya the Heartbreaker

This is my fic for the Mini Bang 21 hosted by @grishaversebigbang

The Materialki from Gang 22: @vigittarious (Zoya) @gigi-drxws (Genya and Alina) @hivertoautumn (Genya) made amazing art!

Summary: The Tsar hosts a ball in the palace and Genya is excited. However, suddenly she‘s the center of attention because two well known people court for her. The decision is not easy and for once Genya wishes she wasn‘t so handsome and charming because the gifts from her admirers become a bit too much.

Find the fic on ao3 here!

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The court was buzzing due to the excitement of the coming ball, Tsar Nikolai had announced five hours ago. It had been a while since the last time a big and glamorous ball was held in the palace. After her duties in the palace were done, she would search Alina and together they would harass the dressmaker until they made special gowns for them. She couldn’t help but smile when she thought about her best friend and didn’t pay attention to where she was heading anymore, which resulted in her stumbling into David Kostyk.

“Saints, David, I’m sorry”, she apologised and brushed imaginary dust off his kefta.

The durast looked as if he was about to piss his pants though. With a harrumph he adjusted the collar of his kefta and inhaled deep: “No need to apologise, this was my fault. I’m happy to see you though.”

Her eyes darted from his eyes over his body and back: “Yeah?”

“Would you be my partner for the ball?”

The question came out of the blue, even though Genya knew that David had a little crush on her, and her jaw dropped. She didn’t deal with that question yet.

“Give me time to think about it, ok?”, she exhaled and patted on his shoulder, before she rushed off. Her cheeks were burning and she hid it by letting her hair fall over her face, which made her run in person again. This time it was Zoya Nazyalensky, the commander's dark hair shined in the chandelier’s light and her blue eyes fixated Genya and that made her blush even more.

“Excuse me, commander”, the tailor mumbled and tried to pass the tall squaller but to her surprise she was held back.

“You’re red like a tomato”, Zoya meant with a judging look, “But anyway. I wanted to ask you, if you want to join my side for the ball.”

Zoya Nazyalensky was one of the most intimidating grisha Genya knew, but also one of the most attractive. She would love to be Zoya’s partner but she would also love to be David’s partner. Hence, Genya could only answer: “I’ll consider it, but I feel honoured.”

“Someone already asked you'', Zoya asserted and glanced past Genya, as if the other person would be there. The etherealkis’s eyes narrowed and she tightened her grip around the tailor’s arm: “Don’t make me fight for you, Genya Safin. Whoever is my opponent, they will lose.”

“Amazing”, Genya gulped and pushed past Zoya, this time the commander didn’t hold her back.

The next day began with nervousness for the corporalki. She didn’t want to go out of her dorm to see what Zoya would do. Because Zoya would do something, for sure. Eventually she was forced though, because someone knocked against her door. Bracing herself for the worst, she opened the door but only looked into a servant’s bugged face. He was holding a huge bouquet of flowers in all forms and colours. A tag was attached to one and when Genya turned it around, she read: Good morning, dearest Genya.

It was David’s handwriting. Then, to her horror, a second servant showed up, also with flowers, but this time from Zoya. As long as the gifts stay flowers, I can handle it, the tailor thought but she felt that this was only the start.

After breakfast Genya set off for her patients’ chambers but halfway there, she was headed off by David.

“What an incident, I meet you”, the durast smiled shyly and made Genya doubt that it was an incident, “I have something for you.”

Kostyk pressed a hair decoration into Genya’s hands and because she dealt with such things every day, she instantly knew that it was worth a lot. It was gilded and rubies were embedded in the delicate shape.

“Thank you”, she said, unsure how to respond to it, “But I cannot accept that, it’s worth too much.”

“Nothing is worth too much for you”, David said softly and closed Genya’s hands around it, “Just take it. I had fun crafting it.”

The following hours, the jewellery on her desk reminded her that she would need to make the decision between David and Zoya soon. Eventually the morning was over and she grabbed some food in the dining hall, to eat it with Alina outside at the pond. On the practice field was as always a lot going on, Botkin training young grishas and some Infernis were lightning up straw dolls. She enjoyed watching it, until she spottet Zoya approaching her, a determined, slightly angry expression on the beautiful face. The squaller stopped a few steps away from her, brought her hands together and before Genya could process what was happening, a small storm gathered. Zoya let it expand into a bigger cloud until the wind pulled at Genya’s hair and every single person on the field was watching. Fascinating was that Zoya had mixed some sort of blue powder into the air, so that the wind was visible and it looked as if the storm had a life on its own. It deformed over and over again, from a tiger to a wild horse. Nazyalensky’s expression was concentrated, but there was an affectionate sparkle in her eyes. At the end of the demonstration, the storm collapsed into a rose and rested at Genya's feet. Zoya smiled at Genya and brushed a red lock behind her ear: “Perhaps this makes the decision easier for you.”

Then the commander spun around and walked away, leaving Genya on the spot.

“Alina”, Genya sighed and frowned, “I have a serious problem and you are laughing? I’m worried about what Zoya will do to David when she finds out, that he’s her opponent.”

“Genya, be happy that two of the most handsome and powerful people openly run for you”, Alina grinned, “Nikolai surpasses you in the amount of admirers, but except for him you are the unbeaten top. Enjoy it.”

Genya opened her mouth to say something but closed it, because she figured that whatever she would say, it wouldn’t make Alina stop laughing. Instead she bit into her sandwich and tried to forget her admirers.

Harder though than done though, because when they returned to the little palace, the news that Zoya Nazyalensky gifted Genya Safin flowers made out of her power, got around the golf course. Some grishas smiled about it, mostly the one’s that already had a partner, but the majority threw the tailor one or two jealous looks. Zoya was almost everybody’s secret crush and having her openly running for your hand was dream material. To Genya’s relieve also this day was over at some point and she walked back to her dorm, exhausted from avoiding David and Zoya all day long, when she crossed path with Tsar Nikolai.

His mouth transformed into a wide smile as soon as he saw her and he hugged her: “Genya, I hear a lot of things about you. For once, someone else is the hotter topic here, it’s refreshing.”

“It’s not”, Genya sighed “Why can’t they just act like normal people.”

“Because you are a commodity in demand, sweet heart.”

Genya snorted and clapped Nikolai’s a: “I am no commodity.”

“I know, this was just a stylistic device to illustrate the situation”, Nikolai assuaged, “And I think there’s someone who has to say something to you.”

He nodded to the floor in front of them and Genya was tempted to turn around and run away when she saw David. He was holding a letter and definitely waiting for her. It turned out to be a poem and it was actually quite good, but she was way too tired to really listen.

It had been two days since Zoya’s storm and David’s poem and Genya savoured the silence. She didn’t need to wolf her meals down and use the secret corridors to walk through the palace in order to not meet anyone who might make something crazy to get her favour. However, her lucky streak ended the moment the freshly recruited grishas entered the dining room while breakfast.

The whole room went dead silent when the young grisha with the blond braids stepped forward and declared: “We’re here to perform a song for Genya Safin.”

Before they started Genya buried herself under the table and wished she could make herself invisible. Across the room she saw David, observing the scene with an irritated expression. Considering Zoya’s position it was a bit unfair - she could make Ravka sing for Genya, literally, and David had no such resources.

They made eye contact and suddenly she was very grateful that she had someone to look at who didn’t laugh or stare at her in disbelief because the grishas began to sing an ancient love song.

The moment the last singer closed their mouth, Genya stormed out of the hall, ready to strangle Zoya for this action. Too much was too much. Eventually, she ended up sitting at the pond, trying to make slates slide on the water. By tomorrow she would need to have chosen her partner, because the evening after was the ball and tomorrow was also the day she and Alina would get their outfits. As she thought of her best friend, an idea formed in her head. What if she did the most unexpected out of all? Excited about her idea she headed back to her friend’s dorm and opened the door, hoping Alina would be there but she wasn’t in sight. She would see her anyway at dinner at the latest and her concern could wait until then. With a content smile she went to her own dorm and opened the door.

“By all the saints”, Genya whispered and stared at the cannon. The chase was engraved with the pictures of Saints and other figures of the old Ravkan tales. The metal was altered, so it was white instead of silver and the holding sparkled golden. The inspiration was definitely coming from Genya’s kefta and the work would’ve only been done by a grisha. And she only knew one grisha who would first off, send her a cannon and second off, be able to create a cannon. Pretty confident that she would never have any use of it, she walked around and lay on her bed, to take a nap.

Read the rest on ao3 akdjakdj

[ggreactionsandscenarios]

Hiii I hope ur doing well ! 🥰 can I ask for prompt 21 with Heejin? Thank you!! Have an amazing day <3

Heejin x Reader

Prompt n°21 : Artist

“Let me paint you in all those places you want to visit ?”

France, Lyon

Ah Paris ! That's what most people would say while visiting France for the first time but not you.

When offered the opportunity to go to France for a week you didn't wanted to be one of the typical tourist, so you decided to go to the newly considered second best city in the world, Lyon.

To be honest you didn't ever heard about Lyon before this magazine talked about it. Everybody just rather talk about Paris, the city of love. You learned that Lyon was for a long time a more important city then Paris, the fact that people only knew about Paris nowadays was unfair.

You were decided to change that, 

You had just arrived in the city and even though you were tired, you wanted to make the most of your time here. You settled to go to the hotel you were staying in before going for a walk around town.

Fast enough you got to the starting point of your visit, The Bellecour square with its famous statue representing King Louis XIV on his horse. He actually only came to Lyon once and he decided to own this square just because he felt like it, ‘what a King’ you thought when you learned the story behind this place.

No wonder he got beheaded.

However it was only the start of your visit, you went up on the Republic’s street, a well known street, appreciated for her numerous clothing’s stores. Contrary to those people looking for new clothes to spend money on, you were looking for something else.

Yet you had a hard time finding it, the street you were looking for, seemed not to be anywhere. Your foreigner self didn’t wanted to ask someone so you settled on looking where it was once you’ll get back at the hotel and go there only the day after. Not finding this street made you stop your tour, prefering to go rest for the next day to come, you had a lot to see and no time to waist.

As soon as you woke up the next day, you got breakfast and went straight for the hidden street. This time you had a map and were ready to see the famous "Passage de l'Argue". The street wasn't actually that famous, most people didn't really knew about its history but you had the chance to have had a online visit on the plane.

The documentary wasn't that good pretty boring actually but when they talked about this street, they explained how it had been first mentioned on a map of the 18th century and had never completly disappeared even when people destroyed it. The people at the time seemed to be attached to this street, they rebuild it over and over again until it became what it was today, a street full of luxurious shops and art galleries.

That's what brought you here in the first place, not shops but art. Of course there were museums in Lyon but as much as you loved them, they were often full of people and regulated with a limited time.

Here you had all the time in the world and not a single soul around because of the bad weather. Well that's what you thought until someone grabbed forcefully one of the painting you were looking at, off the wall where it was exhibited.

You brows furrowed, the girl in question didn't seemed to work in the gallery and you were wondering if she had the right to do that.

"Excuse me ? I don't think you're allowed to put it down."

When you pat the stranger's shoulder, she looked back at you angrily.

"I'm not stealing it if that's what you think I'm doing."

You took sometimes to observe her before answering, seeing how she had gloves over her hands and paint on her white shirt. For sure she was an artist but why would an artist and maybe the one who did the painting in the first would want to get it back ?

"And what exactly are you doing then ?"

She proceeded to put the painting in a tote bag before facing you completely and answering.

"Getting back what was stolen from me."

So she did made the painting, you thought.

"Isn't it good that you're painting is in an art gallery though ?"

The way she rolled her eyes and sighed showed you how she was annoyed to have to explain anything to a stranger but she chose to do it anyway. She probably didn't wanted you to call the police or tell anybody else.

She took a glance over her shoulder before looking at you again.

"Can we like get out of here before I'll tell you ?"

You probably shouldn't have agreed but for some reasons, that girl looked like an honest person and you couldn't help but trust her. 

“Lead the way, stranger.”

“Heejin.”

“Then lead the way, Heejin.”

As said, she led you towards a small bench in a small park nearby. There you two sat and she was finally able to explain you her terrible story. She told you about how she was due to give the gallery two paintings a week for a year and how lately she couldn’t beecause she was facing a uninspired time right now. She wasn’t able to paint so they took paintings that she didn’t anted to expose anyway.

Listening to Heejin, you knew you had to do something, you had to help her. 

“Did you get back all the paintings they stole ?”

Heejin thought for a moment before noding.

“But they’ll take them back, won’t they ?”

“Then help me find inspiration again before they do.”

You were stunned, someone you barely knew wanted you to help her in the most abstract way ever existing.”

“How do I do that ?”

“Let me paint you in all those places you want to visit ?”

You were hesitating but what were you risking anyway, it was a win-win situation, she’ll get her paintings and you’ll have a private guide of the city. 

That’s how Heejin and you started to spend all your days together and soon enough it wasn’t just a win-win situation anymore that brought you to see her but rather a need. 

She brought you to the nicest places of Lyon, you had visited more historical places than ever before and enjoyed every seconds of it.

Today was your last day together, since your flight was planned for tomorrow. Heejin gave you rendez-vous at a parc near what french people call ‘Croix-Rousse’ which was the name of the montaigne. Heejin was waiting for you on the bench, facing the horizon.

“Hey, did you wait for me long ?”

She turned her head to you, smiling.

“Toute ma vie...”

You frown, Heejin rarely talked french, mostly because she knew you couldn’t understand it.

“What does it mean ?”

“It means that don’t want to let you go.”

“Heejin, we already talked about this....”

You did talked about it a few days before but Heejin didn’t tell you how much it was breaking her heart to have to let you go. She grew attached to you, you spent all your time together of course she did. But most importantly you gave her back inspiration when nothing could.

It was hard for her to let you go and hard for you to leave.

That night after the memorable afternoon Heejin gave you, she brought you back to your hotel and runaway before you could say goodbye.

You almost didn’t took your plane the day after feeling too sad, you wished you had had proper goodbyes before parting away but she decided to let you go on your own.

Back home, your life had became pointless, no one was there to tell you about that painter who ate paint or about that curious drawing of a girl spiting flowers. You were feeling worst than ever, Heejin wasn’t responding at any of your texts and you believed it was because she found someone else after two months it was probable.

A knock on the door force you to leave the couch that became your bed since you returned. Opening the door, you got blinded by the light that had left your room since a long time and it took you some time before recognizing who was at the door.

“I must be dreaming..”

Heejin chuckled before putting in a tight hug.

“I knew you dream of me.”

Realization hit you like a truck.

“Ho..HOW ?! Why are you here ?”

“My contract with the gallery expired two weeks ago, I had to quarantine for a week but here I am now. Thought you could get rid of me ? I don’t think so.”

Hey here is the request, hope you’ll like it. Thanks for taking this prompt by the way, did you think it would be like that ? Did you thought about something else ? Tell me while giving me feedback. -Ael

[miraclekittyandbug]

Ten Questions With A Twist Chapter 4

Here’s the next chapter! We’re now more than halfway through the series now, and WOW this is an eventful chapter. 

I hope you enjoy and don’t forget to give me a follow and let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters!

~ Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ This Chapter ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night was cool, simply a perfect patrol night. Ladybug had gotten to their spot on the Eiffel Tower first, leaving Chat to find her looking very frustrated. 

“What's wrong, Bug? Didn’t get a chance to ask any of those questions today?”

She huffed. “Well I managed to get one answer, but I need to figure out a better way to go about this. The way it was asked today isn’t gonna work for the whole list.”

Chat was startled. Had she overheard Alya ask her the vacation question? He took his seat next to Ladybug. “You could get a friend to help you out.”

Ladybug looked surprised, but quickly covered it up. “Yeah? And what would I tell this friend? ‘Oh yeah, my crime fighting partner thinks that he knows the answers to these questions that I have to ask this boy I like’? No chance. I’ll have to find a different approach.”

“Asking questions shouldn’t be too hard. They’re also pretty easy getting-to-know-you questions. If you know him well enough, he shouldn’t find it too difficult to believe you want to get to know him better.”

Ladybug’s face lit up with a revelation. “I’ve got it! Thanks, Chat. I’ll have all the answers soon enough. And that means you’ll finally have to admit that puns are terrible.”

“Alas, my lady, the only thing you’ll be winning is a date with me! I can just see it now: You, me, a high-up rooftop, and a romantic meal prepared by some of the finest cooks in the city.”

“We’ll see about that, kitty. For now, though, the rooftops of Paris are calling our names. Shall we?”

“After you, my lady.”

The roofs and balconies of the city felt the footprints of two heros, but Chat could only pray that soon enough, he would be sharing a date with the love of his life- out of the masks they wore. 

Despite the confidence he showed his lady as Chat Noir, Adrien only became more and more unsure of himself as the night progressed into the next day. And so, Adrien went to school without the usual pep in his step. He could practically feel his lady getting further and further away from him, all the while she was growing closer and closer to the person she actually loved. He felt like a fool. He had let a single coincidence go to his head and went on assuming that he could be the person his lady adores. He went and gave Ladybug questions that were designed to make her fall more in love with him, he just hadn’t considered that it wouldn’t be Adrien she was falling in love with.

He managed to meander his way through the first half of his classes, only half paying attention. At some point he vaguely remembered agreeing to have lunch with Nino, who had agreed to have lunch with his girlfriend, who was invited by Marinette.  Lunch continued to bore him, only bringing his thoughts of his lady and another man closer to the front of his mind. It wasn’t until about twenty minutes into their meal that Marinette finally said something that interested him.

“Hey, guys, I found this cool questionnaire, you wanna answer it with me?” Affirmations came from everybody at the table, including a casual shrug from Adrien. Definitely not the questions I want to hear. But anything to keep my mind away from the obvious.

“Alright,” She started, sitting up straighter and clearing her throat, “If you were stuck on an abandoned island, what three things would you bring?”

Adrien’s heart stopped. That was his question. One of them anyway. And for the second time this week, he started to try to talk himself out of being excited. Because those questions that he had given Ladybug, they were pretty basic questions. Questions that would be found in a million other places for much the same reason. But everybody was staring at him and he suddenly feared that he had thought all of those thoughts out loud. 

“What about you, Adrien?” Marinette asked, looking concerned that her friend had zoned out so quickly.

“Easy. You three. Who would want to go it alone?” His answer was honest, for the most part. In reality, he would never be able to choose just three people. While his friend group meant the world to him, he would be lost without his Ladybug. 

Marinette put her hand over her heart and sighed, but Alya quickly cleared things up, “You would just want us there so we can show you how to build a tent.”

They all chuckled and Marinette continued, “What’s your favorite animal?”

“Fox!” Alya said, though Marinette didn’t seem too surprised.

Nino chimed in, saying he liked monkeys a lot growing up, but he much preferred turtles now. 

“Cats,” Adrien heard himself respond, but his mind was elsewhere. Suddenly, he wished he had paid more attention in math class. If I were asked three questions over the last two days, what’s the probability that all three would match up with three of the ten questions I gave ladybug? Three doesn’t go into ten evenly, and should I take into account the trains leaving opposite sides of town travelling at different speeds somewhere in America?

“Okay,” Marinette said, keeping one eye on Adrien, “And if you could have any pet in the world?”

“Well that’s just the same question twice,” Alya pointed out.

“Not really,” Nino interjected, “I’d rather have a dog than a turtle. Dogs travel better.”

Adrien had to hold onto the table, for fear of falling out of his chair. “I’d definitely get a pet cat. A black one. I’d name it The Plague.”

“That’s a sick name, dude,” Nino approved, “What about you, Marinette?”

“Hamster. But I wouldn’t mind a black cat for myself.” She paused, but when it didn’t seem that anybody else would add anything, she continued questioning. “What is your biggest fear?”

Adrien mumbled, “This. Right here, right now, these specific questions, in this exact scenario.” 

“What was that, dude?” Nino asked. 

Adrien just looked at him with a hollow look in his eyes, “I, uh, I said my worst fear is working for my father for the rest of my life.” 

Marinette could barely be heard, “That’s… heartbreaking, Adrien.” The others just watched as Adrien tried to lighten the subject.

“Nah, that’s just my worst fear. It’s not what’s gonna happen.” He managed to focus on making eye contact with Marinette, “There’s nothing on that list about dream jobs, is there?” He hoped aloud.

“Actually, there is! What is your dream-”

“And THAT’S where I’m calling it in,” Adrien mumbled, his eyes bulged out of their sockets and he took a deep breath that filled his cheeks. He stood and started to walk away. “Alright, guys, I’m not feeling well, I need to leave. Right now. Immediately. Thank you. Goodbye.”

He was halfway across the courtyard in under thirty seconds. He ducked into a doorway and opened his shirt so he could see Plagg in his pocket, who was laughing incessantly.

“I don’t see what’s so funny, Plagg!”

“I do!” his Kwamii stated, “I think you found your girl!”

“Who, Marinette? No she can’t be Ladybug.”

Plagg’s face fell. “Why not?”

“Marinette is just a friend.” Plagg paused for a split second to stare at his chosen, then started laughing even harder. Adrien was about to tell him to quiet down when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He closed his shirt and whirled around, surprised, but not too surprised to see that Marinette had followed him. 

“Hey, Marinette!” Adrien put on his best “everything is fine” face, but even he could tell he wasn’t pulling it off. 

“Hey, Adrien. Are you okay? Over the course of, like, one minute your face lost all of its color.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he responded, “I just don’t feel well all of a sudden.”

Marinette made a face of understanding, but eventually spoke, “Are all these questions rubbing you the wrong way?”

Adrien was in shock. Not just from the questions, but from the company in which he answered them and the honest concern he felt from Marinette. Shit, maybe he did like Marinette as more than a friend. That thought alone freaked him out. How could he love two people at the same time? He didn’t think he was polyamorous, and thinking on that further, he was certain he wasn’t. He didn’t want two girlfriends, he just wanted one. Whether it was Marinette or Ladybug that he wanted, well that was too much to think about.

Before he could consider how to respond, Marinette interrupted his thoughts.

“Yeah, I just, my friend and I made this bet. This friend thinks they know all your answers to these questions-,”

Adrien was sure there was an end to that sentence, but he didn’t hear it.

Suddenly everything made sense. Her obsession with akumas. Always disappearing around the same time he did. The similar times of their arrivals to the site of the akumas. It could only be one person.

“Alya,” he said, breathless. 

“What?”

Adrien responded, “What?” He mentally slapped himself. Of course it wasn’t Alya. Jeez, she had been akumatized! She had been used as bait for an akuma. Adrien must have been losing his mind. But even though he guessed wrong, he was on the right track. Whoever Marinette’s friend was, had to be Ladybug!

I guess it isn’t true that opposites attract, he thought, those two are so similar.

“So who is it?”

Marinette seemed confused, “Who is Alya?”

“No!” he corrected, “Who’s this friend? The one with all the answers.” 

“Oh,” Marinette panicked. She didn’t seem prepared to answer this question, which only solidified Adrien’s belief that this friend was his Lady. “I actually don’t know his name.”

Adrien blinked through his confusion. That was odd. He and Ladybug had talked about this before. Ladybug was born a woman. She identified as a woman, as well. So was Marinette trying to protect Ladybug’s identity? Pretending that her friend was a man? Smart, he guessed, just very confusing.

Marinette seemed to notice that he hadn’t responded, so she continued, “Yeah, we’re actually…. Internet friends! Yeah, we’re friends on an internet. The internet. An internet site. Yeah. We go by screennames, that’s all.” Adrien found that explanation to be a little too convenient. 

“Oh yeah? And what do you call this… boy?”

Her face drained of color, but she choked out her reply, “Black cat.”

A moment of silence later, Adrien replied. “What?”

“You know, that’s the, um, American, er English, for Chat Noir. He’s English. Well, he speaks English, he is… American.”

No… Adrien thought, But that would mean… no way!

“What’s the bet?” he asked, surprised at how sure he was.

“Oh, that? He thinks he knows all your answers to these questions. And if he wins,” she quickly added, “which he won’t! If he wins then I have to go on a date with him.”

Adrien couldn’t seem to think properly, but he was slowly realizing that his ‘liking two girls at the same time’ problem might not be much of an issue. “A date. Him and you? You specifically?”

“Yeah,” Marinette shrugged, “It’s just a stupid bet, but he seems really certain that he’ll win.”

“Well, if he does win,” Adrien sighed, letting his shoulders drop and his eyes glass over, “Then he is one lucky guy.”

Marinette stared at him. Adrien enjoyed their first bit of real eye contact. Normally looking somebody in the eyes was nerve-racking, but when those eyes were that specific shade of blue? He noticed how comforting they were. He realized maybe why. 

Because those eyes weren’t just the blue of his friend who sat behind him and always had his back in his everyday life. They were also the blue that had his back in combat. That sat with him all night long when he didn’t know which way was up. That made him laugh under the stars when he couldn’t find the humor in life anymore. All of the times he came home to a cold house with no family, he felt lonely despite his friends at school. And on those days, blue eyes, the same ones that were in front of him right now, sat with him on a ledge of the Eiffel Tower and talked with him until he felt whole again.

Marinette’s face went pinker than pink instantly. Adrien enjoyed seeing Ladybug like this. Not just with a blushing face, though he liked that too. He liked seeing Ladybug whole. All of her. Without the masks, she could actually be herself, all of herself with him. 

They stood there, both speechless, for what felt like an eternity. And then… the bell rang. Signaling the end of their lunch period. Adrien just chuckled, but his crime-fighting partner was still frozen. Alya walked up to the pair and Adrien just shrugged. Alya took Marinette’s shoulder and ushered her away. Nino did the same with Adrien, but he couldn’t pay much attention to the conversation his friend was trying to start. 

His world had just changed.

~~~~~~~~~~~

There ya go! Only three chapters left and next chapter is one for the history books! Stay tuned!

~ Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ This Chapter ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~

[serpentinesarang]

long time no see

pairing: woozi (lee jihoon) x fem reader

genre: idol!AU, smut, fluff, second-person POV

word count: 1560

content warnings: cyber sex, mutual masturbation, swearing

summary: society is finally back to somewhat normalcy after covid, and svt finally gets the opportunity to embark on a world tour. woozi has been away from you for about two months now, and he misses you extra, so he facetimes you after a concert while in a fat, juicy  m o o d™️

requested by: @amymoonl​

a/n: #5 on my prompt list ♡

korean key:

⦿ annyeonghaseyo (안녕하세요) = most common and formal hello; pronounced “on-yawng-ha-seh-yo”

⦿ nado (나도) = me too; pronounced “nah-doh”

⦿ jagiya (자기야) = baby; pronounced “jog-ee-yah”

⦿ anyo (아뇨) = colloquial no; pronounced “on-yo”

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Saturday afternoon. You’ve checked off all of the things on your to-do list so far: morning skincare, grocery store, laundry (darks and reds), workout, lunch with a close coworker, post office errand, and even a phone call with one of your parents all the way on the west coast of the US, the country your partner Jihoon is currently touring with Seventeen. 

It’s been a long two-ish years since COVID first hit, and SVT being able to finally set out on tour was the biggest blessing, not only for the boys but carats as well. 

You’re parked on the couch, newly available after a brief check-in with your family. Your phone is literally still in your hand when it abruptly launches an app: “Jihoon ❤️ wants to FaceTime with you...”

Your eyes bug almost out of their sockets, and your jaw nearly cracks off your skull at the sight. Baby boy hasn’t videocalled you in any way in almost a month now because their tour dates were so heavily stacked, and his texts had been alluding to all-around fatigue for everybody after not touring for so long.

But shit! He’s calling you!!!!

You waste no time jamming your thumb against the green circle, the screen loading a dimly-lit image of a topless, black-haired Jihoon propped up with pillows.

“Baby!” you yelp with excitement, extending your arm to capture yourself at a more flattering angle.

“Y/N!” Jihoon yelps back, matching your level of giddiness. He beams a toothy, ear to ear grin and stares at his screen intently, taking in your beauty.

“I miss youuu,” you say with an adorable pout as he turns on a bedside lamp.

“Nado, jagiya,” Jihoon frowns in response, pursing his pink-stained lips. “I still have energy tonight though, so here I am.”

It dawns on you that there’s a major time difference between you two. You glance at your watch, which reads just after 3 PM Korea-time, so that means it’s past 1 AM in Chicago, where SVT had just finished performing a concert.

“Oh, wow... Shouldn’t you be sleeping, babe?” you ask.

Jihoon glances around for a moment, his expression looking a little hesistant. “Honestly... I’m really horny right now.”

Well split me open and butter me up... you think. 

You take in a big breath, scrambling to process your man’s words. “Ah, I see...” You pause for a second to watch him shift more upright against his pillows. “I can be persuaded.”

Jihoon dramatically brings his phone up to his face with raised eyebrows. “I will persuade you, Y/N.”

At that, you feel a lone throb within your clit. You’d be a fool not to indulge him, especially since you haven’t flicked the bean in a solid week because of work.

You sigh, preparing yourself. “I’m waiting,” you reply softly.

Wordlessly, Jihoon aims his camera away from his glowing face and downward to encompass his entire lower half. You can just barely see bedsheets crumpled up against his thighs, but it’s his long, rock-hard boner lying against his stomach that catches your hungry eyes.

“Oh, Jihoon...” you murmur, not a single thought in your mind. You feel a small glob of arousal trickle out of you, so you shift around nervously. “Where are the boys?”

“Some of them are drinking somewhere, and others went to sleep in different rooms. I told them the concert gave me a headache,” he responds after bringing the camera back to his face.

Proud of his craftiness, you nod with a tiny smirk forming. “Smart man.”

“Now, about my problem...” he raises a brow and peers into the camera expectantly.

“Say no more, babe.” 

You reach forward to prop your phone against an empty mug on the coffee table before you, making sure all of you shows on screen. Scooting to the edge of the couch, you tug off your t-shirt and haphazardly tie your hair in a knot. You’re left in a cotton sports bra and yoga pants.

“More,” Jihoon whispers roughly, pulling back his phone to show himself leisurely stroking his smooth, pink shaft. You want to see his balls too, but you know you have to give more in order to get more.

You remove your pants, revealing a rather sexy, red G-string. You hear Jihoon whimper in the background while he grips his dick and slowly pumps it horizontally, the tugging motions finally giving you your peek at his beautiful full package.

“You’re so sexy, Jihoon,” you say in a velvety voice before turning around and kneeing the couch to give him a sinful view of your equally sinful ass, the little red string peeking out at the small of your back.

“Anyo, jagi,” he replies, his voice scarily firm. “Not like you.”

Jihoon flips his camera from selfie mode to alleviate his tired arm, and your view is now a delightful close-up of his languid, horizontal pumping. Now you can make out the precum beginning to ooze at his swollen tip.

Still facing away from your own camera, you tug off your sports bra and chuck it carelessly behind the couch. Once you turn around and sit at the couch’s edge again, Jihoon emits a loud mmm. While you fondle your supple breasts for him, he angles his erection vertically, causing your clit to develop its own heartbeat.

“More, jagi, please,” he begs in a quiet voice, gripping his shaft tighter as he continues pumping, occasionally twisting his wrist for extra sensation.

“Okay, baby,” you nod.

You lift your ass quickly to discard the G-string and then lay your shoulders back against the couch with your gorgeous pussy closer to the camera. You spread your knees as far as possible before digging your heels into the couch cushions beside you. This is a view he would absolutely drop anything for.

Jihoon sighs aloud, stopping at the base to demonstrate the now prominent veins of his shaft. “Look what you do to me,” he murmurs lowly before he resumes pumping, this time at a faster pace.

“Ji, look at how wet I am,” you counter, rubbing the pad of your middle finger against your soaked entrance and carefully pulling it away to show your arousal sticking to your finger in a tantalizing, glistening line.

“Fuck,” you hear him whisper.

You press two fingertips to your enflamed clit and trace light circles, cupping a breast with your free hand and rolling your neck backward.

“I want you so bad, Y/N,” he moans, breathing a little bit louder. You bring your eyes back to the screen to see his precum running all the way down his angry shaft and even touching his thumb. 

You smirk at the sight of how far gone your man is. Picking up the pace on your clit, you take your free hand and slid two fingers inside, thrusting straight in and out at a more casual pace.

Jihoon utters an impatient mmm. “Baby, say something... I miss your voice.”

“I miss your voice calling me a bad girl when I used to masturbate before you came home,” you reply, fucking yourself faster and matching the speed of your clit rubbing.

“Uggghhh...” he groans, slowing his pumping but squeezing the tip hard each time. His precum was still flowing out of him like tears.

“I miss your dick hitting my cervix every fucking time,” you murmured, your voice strained. Feeling yourself free-falling into your pleasure, you curl your fingers inside to press your G-spot, and you involuntarily roll your eyes back.

“UHh,” Jihoon whines at the sight of your blissful expression, and you can tell from this sound that he’s close. You know his noises well enough by now.

“Go faster for me, Ji,” you plead, opening your eyes again and focusing on his deliciously red erection in his small hand.

“I’m so close,” he whispers, fulfilling your request. At this point, his insane amount of precum had started running down to his wrist, and this mouthwatering image shoved you over the edge.

Pressing deeper into your hard clit and fucking yourself so fast that your wrist was aching, you feel yourself uncontrollably clenching on your drenched fingers. 

“Yes, jagi—oh my God,” Jihoon groans, finally spurting thick ropes of cum into the air and against his hand. “Ohhhh shiiiit.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. Jihoon’s trembling orgasm snaps you into your own. You pull your fingers out for him to see your pulsating hole as you shriek in a broken sound of unbridled euphoria, still furiously massaging your clit through the orgasm.

“So hot, Y/N. I wish I could lick you dry,” he declares while tenderly stimulating his frenulum with an index finger.

At last, it’s done. You retract your hand and remain spread open, allowing Jihoon to watch the last vibrations of your shiny hole as well as the considerable amount of fluid draining out of you and between your cheeks.

He switches to lightly groping his balls, angling his camera upward for you to better see. “I can’t wait to cum in you when I get home.”

You sigh, wiped out from the experience. “Ji, I just wanna cuddle you more than anything right now.”

Jihoon flips his camera back to selfie mode, revealing a light sheen of sweat across his forehead and temples. “That too, jagi. I’ll hold you as long as you need when we come back.”

[sleepylixie]

The Dreamwalker- Incubus! Hwang Hyunjin

Word Count: 1.3k

Genre: Fantasy

Beware of: Elements of mental imbalance(crazy behaviour), Elements of smut(only mentions, nothing specific at all.) 

A/N: THIS FIC DOES NOT REFLECT THE CHARACTER OR LIKENESS OF THE REAL HWANG HYUNJIN IN ANY FORM OR MANNER. ONTO THE FIC!! I had a power struggle with this one, making the words sound the way I wanted them to ( @aliceu�� and @rebecca-noona​ welcome to the cult yet again. Today we’re serving Sex on the beach with a side of Fantasy Fries)

Requests are open for SKZ and BTS! || Masterlist

Ever wondered how wrong a dream could possibly go for it to become a nightmare? One that leaves you unmoving, still as a statue, even in the deepest of sleep? But what if the stillness wasn’t from terror but from.. from desire? Ask the Dreamwalker, he could show you.

Demons couldn’t create, they were ruled by their penchant for destruction- until the first succubus came along, with an entirely different kind of lust. 

Lilith. She was a headstrong woman, the kind that was unshaken from her beliefs and gladly stood trial and punishment for them. 

After being banished from Eden’s Garden, she lived amongst the mortals, reduced to a fraction of her full powers but still, more powerful than humans.

Lilith fell in love with a mortal man, a mortal king who commanded respect and power, the exact kind of person she’d dreamed of for herself. 

She was shot down the second the king came to know of her true nature- a creature rejected by the heavens, the mother of everything unholy. 

Her screams of pain ripped the sky apart as she flew to safety, bringing down thunder and lightning behind her. 

Her blood rained down to the ground as she created the Demon plane, outside the bounds of everything holy where she could reign supreme without fear

Where drops of her blood fell, there sprang a new race of demons: the succubi and their male counterparts, the incubi.

They were the youngest and newest race of demons but the strongest in their destructive power- They wreaked havoc over the mortal plane with great glee,

their strength came from the darkest fantasies that humans kept locked securely within themselves, particularly of the sexual kind. When a mortal spent enough locked in an incubus’ spell, they lost their wits to the point of madness

At which point the incubi gladly fed off their life forces, reveling in the sweet tang that the newly-damned souls left on their tongues

All of them were devastatingly beautiful, almost angelic in appearance, with their soft skin, silky hair and shapely bodies 

but none more beautiful than the youngest of them all

His name was Hwang Hyunjin.

The Nightmare, some called him, others knew him as the Dreamwalker

There was something about him even his kin couldn’t shake, much less the mortals he fed on

Maybe it was the shape of his face: angular yet soft at the cheeks, narrow hooded eyes with the darkness trapped in the pupils, lips that looked like they were sculpted by mother Lilith herself

Or maybe it was the way he was built:  lean, tall and sharp where mortal bodies were sharp and soft as they were soft but still, carried the aura of something so distinctly otherworldly even without the black wings balanced on his back. 

But it was definitely the way he could make even the most depraved, sex-crazed fantasies into an illusion of love and passion

There was not a single mortal Hyunjin hadn’t succeeded in feeding on because of this depraved skill of his 

Like his looks weren’t enough, he also had to be one of the best incubi there ever walked the Earth.

Of course, with creatures that shined so bright in their depravity, disaster was sure to come knocking 

and surely enough, it did.

//

Demons couldn’t love, they were ruled by their penchant for hate-under the first incubi came along, with an entirely different kind of chaos.

Incubi and Succubi felt love as Mother Lilith once felt love- not as a wholesome, fuzzy feeling of warmth as the mortals do 

but as an ell-encompassing hellfire gone wrong, endless and destructive in it’s affection.

It was rare as it was devastating, for succubi often couldn’t control what they felt in their unholy souls for their significant others and often gave their existence away in pursuit of their lover

Hyunjin had seen enough of his older siblings go mad in the sham called love and decided that he would never want to walk down that road for himself. 

He loved his life and his demonic status, he needed nothing more 

Or so he thought, until he saw Amaretta.

Like her name, she was from a foreign land Hyunjin had never deigned to visit 

but one look at her made him wish that he had, 

for what an infallible beauty was sweet Amaretta, with the brightest skin and the clearest eyes, the sweetest smile and the softest hair. 

She carried a scent of jasmine and hibiscus with her, under a deeper tang of an addicting mortal liqueur that always lingered around her.

Hyunjin had to have her, he decided. She was too beautiful, too pure, too...untouched for him to pass up the opportunity

She didn’t pose any difficulty to get to, it was almost like she was waiting for him to find her, the way her shadowed eyes gazed into him as he prowled closer 

and oh, what a dreamland her mind was for a deviant like him

The most indecent desires and the most sinful fantasies that were symphony to his ears 

And oh, how beautifully her body responded to his touch, the most lovely whimpers and the most musical moans that only he could coax out of her rosebud lips

Her aura just begging for him to come back to her every night like she was the flickering flame and he was the smitten firefly, he couldn’t have enough of the beauty that was Amaretta

Hyunjin was bewitched by her existence to the point where he even forgot about feeding on her at all- it became about her pleasure, the kind of toe-curling pleasure that he could give her, so easily 

that it satisfied him even despite the lack of feeding

He didn’t realize it for what it was, that the charm that he had fallen under was the very same curse he had vowed to run from.

Mortals couldn’t withstand the seduction of an incubus for too long, but Amaretta held to her sanity for an entire month before the strings in her mind came undone.

Something broke inside Hyunjin to see his sweet Amaretta, who once shone like the sunlight at dawn, reduced to a mere shadow of her old self

Was it guilt?

He couldn’t bring himself to appear before her when the time came 

Even when Amaretta began to see him everywhere that he wasn’t, even when she was shunned by her village and left in the wood to the wilderness

It was when a panther nearly attacked her that he tore the wild cat apart, then watched 

as Amaretta threw herself at him, smiling a smile that was so vastly different from the one he was used to seeing from her 

Her hair sticking out in the most ghastly way, her eyes sunken into her skull

She looked dead on her feet, a walking ghost 

Hyunjin knew there was a soul left in her, one that was all his for the taking 

But why didn’t he feel the victory he normally felt after a successful hunt?

What should’ve tasted like sweet lemonade on Hyunjin’s tongue now tasted like powdery ash

His honey-eyed, sweet-smiled Amaretta. Her soul was damned, now another lost soul trapped in the Demon plane  

All because of him

So this was the insanity his siblings told him about 

To be able to see the one you care about with all of your sinner’s soul and not be able to do anything when you’re the one that’s causing them all of the pain.

It did drive him crazy, so incredibly crazy that he lost the need to feed,

 it was like all of the life forces he had ever consumed had set a fire inside him, chanting about the wicked harbringer of death that he would forever be. 

He wandered the world as a ghost of his former glory, never again taking pleasure in the fantasies that had once riveted him 

Feeding was a chore now, not an unholy cat-and-mouse game 

Everybody knows about the youngest true incubus of Lilith who was once all blonde hair and dangerous beauty, a tale of caution for a broken heart, a reminder of how flying too close to the sun will always have end in a savage fall to the ground.

[alpacaparkaseok]

7 Secrets Drabbles

The one where the boys watch the girls freak out

(requested by anon)

Genre: Soulmate au

Warnings: none, just pure fluff

Word Count: 3.7k

This is a drabble based off of my main series “7 Secrets”. If you would like to read the whole story (which I think you should but I’m kinda biased) then check out my m.list. It’s now completed!

Premise: This takes place in chapters 4 and 5 in the main series, it’s when the girls get the warning call that they’re going to meet the boys. The boys were sitting in on the call the entire time, unbeknownst to the girls. :)

Bang Si Hyuk was planning on having a private phone call with Kyung-soon, Seohyun, Himari, Beth, Aera, Ichika, and Minsuh. He was about to deliver some very big news, and he didn’t want a single thing to go wrong.

So you can imagine his surprise when he entered his office only to find Jin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook looking up at him expectantly.

“...may I help you with something?”

It was Jimin who spoke first, and it was obvious why. Mr. Bang had always struggled saying no to Park Jimin. He held a soft spot for the boy.

“We’re here for the phone call. You’re doing that tonight, aren’t you?” Jimin looked at him with the biggest puppy eyes he could manage which left Bang Si Hyuk sighing and nodding as he plopped into his chair.

Jungkook and Jin let out a whoop of excitement, but Mr. Bang shot them a glare strong enough to quiet them.

“You can stay under one condition.” Each boy looked at him like innocent little angels, but he reminded himself to not buy into it for one single second. “You have to remain quiet. You stay out of frame-”

“It’s a video call?” Yoongi pipes up, mouth falling open ever so slightly in the way it always does.

Mr. Bang furrows his brows. “Yes...what did you think was going to happen?” The looks on their faces were priceless, and for a second he almost wished he could take a photo of the moment.

Taehyung shrugs his shoulders, the near permanent smile that’s been on his face the past few weeks reappearing as he thinks about his soulmate.

“I just wanted to make sure you made the call, I guess.”

Mr. Bang chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re smitten and you haven’t even met her yet.” Taehyung turns an impressive shade of pink, but it does nothing to his smile.

A flurry of movement and instructions, and the portable television from three levels down is wheeled into Mr. Bang’s office. After some quick set up and Jungkook chatting with Ji-hoon who looks like all of this is his own fault, Mr. Bang shushes everyone again.

Perhaps he should have told the boys about their soulmates years ago, because with one little word the entire room falls silent. He should have known that soulmates would serve as a good incentive.

“Alright, as I was saying before. Please remain completely silent throughout the call. This is a lot for the girls to take in; I haven’t had the time to ease them into the news like I wish I did. I think it would be too much for them if they realized that their soulmates were eavesdropping on a private conversation, don’t you agree?”

Everyone nods, but Jin himself is grinning while looking down at his shoes. At the mention of him being someone’s soulmate he can hardly contain himself. He stands behind the couch beside Jungkook, while Hoseok is sitting on the arm of the couch and the other four boys are crammed onto the cushions.

“Right, so we have to be quiet.” Jungkook repeats back, clearly ready for the call to be made already. “Anything else?”

Mr. Bang laughs quietly, fiddling with his computer as he brings up the girls’ contact information. He hovers over Beth’s name, since she’s usually the one he calls. The boys hold their breath, watching the tv screen where Mr. Bang’s screen is mirrored.

“Do not for any reason come into the frame...and I guess try not to take any of the girls’ reactions too seriously. They might be a bit…”

“Freaked out?” Hobi supplies. Mr. Bang nods.

“Sure, freaked out. Ready? Get your wiggles out now before I call them. And remember-”

“Yeah yeah, no speaking,” Taehyung murmurs, standing up and running in place before settling back down on the couch squished between Jimin and Yoongi.

“Are you calling Beth?” Namjoon asks, the emotion clear in his voice. It sounds like he’s stopped breathing as Mr. Bang continues to hover over her contact information.

Mr. Bang thinks about it before shaking his head, and Namjoon’s shoulders visibly drop. “She just went into work today for the first time since landing, chances are she’s probably still there. I’m trying to think who is most likely home at this point...should we try Seohyun?”

Yoongi’s head shoots up. “Yes. We should.” Everyone chuckles knowingly at his attitude.

“Alright...calling Seohyun in 3...2…”

The tell-tale sound of the facetime ringing echoes throughout the room, and Yoongi can’t help but reach out to grab Taehyung with as much strength as he can muster in the moment. Which, if you asked Taehyung, is a considerable amount.

There’s a pause in which everyone holds their breath before someone answers the phone.

“Seohyunie, where are you? You’ve been fired or something!” A voice cuts through the room like a searing hot brand, but nobody appears before the camera.

“...hello?” Mr. Bang chuckles. He’s apparently used to this. The boys, on the other hand, look like they may pass out at any moment.

Only Jungkook is able to breathe, and when he does he just breathes out a name. “Minush…”

Suddenly Minsuh’s face cuts across the screen, a bright smile overtaking her features.

“Hello Mr. Bang! Seohyun left her phone down here, she’ll be down in a second.”

“That’s alright, would you mind actually gathering up everybody? I know that this is a bit unexpected, but I was hoping to speak with all of you.”

There’s a flash of concern on Minsuh’s face, but she doesn’t get an opportunity to ask what Mr. Bang means when another voice draws her attention.

“What do you mean I’m fired?” Minsuh passes the phone to her, and Seohyun comes into frame.

Yoongi sighs, leaning forward on his seat until he’s nearly slipping off of the couch. He’s still clinging to Taehyung, which is probably the only reason he doesn’t fall off the couch at that moment.

Seohyun gives Mr. Bang a smile before turning to listen to what Minsuh is telling her. Minsuh pops her head back in for a moment.

“I’ll go grab everyone, they should be here. But, are Beth or Soon-ah back yet?” Seohyun shrugs in response, moving away from where Minsuh answered her phone in the kitchen.

The boys grin down at Yoongi who is caught between gasping for air and not breathing at all. Seohyun is preoccupied with something, but she remains in the frame as she sets her phone down on the coffee table. She’s wearing a graphic tee with the words “AGUST D” printed across it, her hair pulled up into a ponytail so it wouldn’t fall into her face while she was studying.

“Should I sync you up to the TV? That’ll be easier for everyone to see.”

Mr. Bang nods. “That’d be great, thank you.”

Seohyun hums a tune while she gets to work, pausing for a moment as she looks back at the screen.

“Mr. Bang…”

“Yes?”

“Is everything alright with the boys?”

If Yoongi wasn’t smitten already, the sweet look in Seohyun’s eyes as she inquired after him and his brothers was enough to send him careening over the edge. Mr. Bang gave her a soft smile.

“Yes, the boys are just fine. Yoongi is fine,” he adds, giving Yoongi a glance. That statement could be left up to interpretation, seeing as the boy in question wasn’t sure if his heart was still functioning properly.

Seohyun chuckles on the other side of the phone before giving out a shout of triumph as the camera angle suddenly changes.

No longer are the boys viewing through Seohyun’s phone, but through the camera on the TV. They can see the entire living room as well as the end part of the kitchen. Seohyun is kneeling beside the coffee table, setting her phone down.

“Better?”

“Better.” Yoongi and Mr. Bang respond at the same time. Seohyun doesn’t notice, instead rushing off to find the others.

“Be right back!”

Soon the room is empty, and all seven boys let out a collective sigh.

“This is harder than I thought,” Jungkook whispers to Jin. He ignores the glare he receives from Mr. Bang. Jin nods emphatically, squeezing the back of the couch hard enough that he leaves imprints on the fabric.

The front door opens and Kyung-soon enters. She jumps when she finds herself face to face with Mr. Bang.

“Hello Kyung-soon,” Mr. Bang gives her a sympathetic smile. Kyung-soon takes off her jacket, edging closer to the couch in the front room. “How are you today?”

“I’m doing fine. May I ask why you’re on the TV?”

Jin breathes out a string of prayers as Kyung-soon tilts her head in a quizzical manner.

“Oh, well I needed to call everyone and-”

“Bang PD!” Ichika chirps upon entering the room, Himari trailing behind her.

“Wow, you look good on TV,” Himari smirks, causing Hoseok to nearly lose his balance on the arm of the sofa.

Taehyung’s smile has somehow managed to triple in size as he gets to watch his soulmate in real time.

“Do you guys know what’s going on?” Kyung-soon asks, settling down on the chair beside the couch. Himari sits down on the couch, Ichika sitting in front of her and resting her back against her knees.

It’s almost as if they’ve had plenty of these kinds of calls and already know their designated spots.

Himari shakes her head. “No. Do you know when Beth is coming home? Did you just get here?”

“Yeah, I just closed a deal!” Kyung-soon grins while the other two girls congratulate her. “I texted her a while ago, she didn’t respond.”

“It’s because she’s a workaholic,” Aera enters the room followed by Minsuh and Seohyun. “She probably won’t be home for a while. I texted her too.”

From the way Namjoon is wringing his hands together, Jimin thinks that he may break something. He must be really nervous if he’s pulling Jimin’s attention away from his soulmate appearing. But it doesn’t last for long, soon enough he’s just as engrossed as the rest of his brothers.

Minsuh plops down beside Himari while Seohyun and Aera take up the space on another small couch.

There’s a clear spot between Himari and Minsuh, which Namjoon can only guess is typically reserved for his soulmate. The face that the spot is currently empty hurts him more than he’d like to admit.

Mr. Bang attempts to start again, not doing a very good job at making it look like he’s not about to drop some life-changing information on them.

“I’ll call Beth in a second...I’d like for her to be here for this.”

Himari’s brows furrow. “What’s going on? Is everything ok?”

“Yes, everything is fine,” Mr. Bang reassures. “In fact, I have some great news for all of you. I was just hoping that everyone could be present when I told you this.”

The girls are silent on the other side of the room, and the silence drags on long enough for Mr. Bang to pull his phone out and hold it up to his ear.

“Let me call Beth. If she doesn’t answer, would one of you be willing to go and get her?”

Everyone nods, exchanging glances. Kyung-soon has gone pale as she sits straight up in her seat, silently communicating something with Aera across the room.

Namjoon’s eyes don’t leave Mr. Bang’s face as he calls Beth. When she doesn’t answer, Namjoon sighs and leans back against the couch. Possible scenarios are racing around his mind, and Jimin gives him a reassuring pat.

“Mr. Bang…” Aera starts, looking entirely unsure of herself. “Please tell us what this is all about. You’re scaring me.”

If Jimin could teleport, he would right now.

“No, it’s nothing, it’s just...well, the boys know.”

Just like that, all six girls drop their jaws. About two seconds of silence reign before a flurry of questions and demands are thrown at Mr. Bang.

Kyung-soon and Aera are both standing, either one laughing at the other.

“Oh, I told you so! I won!” Kyung-soon shouts, making Jin want to shout with her.

“Did you, though? I feel like I can still win this,” Aera defends. Seohyun looks past her to Mr. Bang, all her flair gone.

“Wait, what do you mean they know? Oh no. They know. That’s not good.” Seohyun looks at Minsuh, who simply stares into space.

Ichika still sits on the floor, a look of determination on her face. “If they know, we’re going to meet them, right?” It takes every last bit of Taehyung’s willpower to not leap up and tell her yes.

Himari whips her phone out, texting as fast as she can. As soon as she’s sent her texts, she sinks down low into the couch, head in her hands. Hoseok’s heart stumbles until Himari raises her head again and she doesn’t look disappointed. Just shocked.

“Minsuh,” Himari mumbles out in a daze. Everyone quiets down upon hearing the usually bold Himari turned to a small figure on the edge of the couch. Her face is pale now, but she looks at the younger girl pleadingly.

“Hm?” Minsuh asks, still staring off into space.

“Could you go pick up Beth from work? She took the bus today. Even if she leaves now, she won’t be here for a while.” Himari’s voice is quiet and controlled, but Hoseok can tell that she’s barely keeping herself together.

Minsuh comes out of her daze, finally focusing on Himari. “Me? Oh...sure. Yeah, that’s fine.”

Without another word Minsuh gets up and leaves, leaving Mr. Bang staring out and observing the expressions of the soulmates on the other side of Seoul and the soulmates sitting here in his office.

Jungkook has tears glistening in his eyes since Minsuh had to leave, but he looks oddly proud of her.

Yoongi is still clinging to Taehyung, but now Taehyung is also clinging to Yoongi. Both are at risk of swallowing a fly as their mouths hang open.

Jin has backed away from the couch and now is leaning his back against the wall. He doesn’t blink as he stares at the screen in front of him, almost as though he’s scared that if he does his soulmate will disappear.

Jimin rests his elbows on his knees, bouncing one leg as he looks at Aera with an indescribable look that almost has Mr. Bang offering him some alone time.

Namjoon is staring burning holes into the carpet.

Hoseok is alternating between staring out the window for two seconds and back at his soulmate for three. Mr. Bang knows this because he counts. Twice.

They pass the next twenty minutes in a similar fashion, Mr. Bang making futile small talk with the girls while the boys aren’t quite sure what to do with themselves.

“So…” Kyung-soon starts up. “Are the boys ok with this? How are they?”

Seohyun nods on the other side of the room, suddenly very fidgety with her tee shirt.

Mr. Bang looks around the room with a small laugh. “Oh, they’re great. I’d say they’re pretty excited with the whole thing, actually.”

“Don’t lie to make us feel better,” Himari quips.

“I’m not. Trust me. Have I ever given you a reason not to?”

“Yes,” all the girls say in unison. Mr. Bang looks offended, but he’s unable to defend himself as Beth chooses that exact moment to enter the apartment.

“Ah, Bethany,” Mr. Bang smiles, and Namjoon’s head pops up with impressive speed at the mention of his soulmate’s name. “How kind of you to stop by.”

Beth kicks of her shoes while shooting Mr. Bang a smirk that has Namjoon wondering what he’s gotten himself into.

Whatever it is, he knows for certain that he doesn’t want to ever get out of it.

“I saw you called me. Sorry I missed it, some of us have work to do.” Beth says when she sits down at her designated spot, the action making Namjoon more at ease now that everything is complete.

“So what’s going on? You don’t tend to call without scheduling it first.”

Everyone steels themselves for the big reveal yet again, and Jungkook is surprised that Minsuh didn’t tell her on the ride over. Perhaps it was the right thing to do, though. Something tells him that Beth finding out while in the confines of a vehicle might not be a smart move.

“Well, remember that conversation we had a little while back, when you requested that I give you a 48 hour notice before meeting your soulmate so you could have enough time to catch a flight to Antarctica?”

Namjoon can’t help the chuckle that slips out of his mouth, but he’s quick to clamp his mouth shut again. Thankfully, Beth doesn’t seem to hear him, instead opting for a slightly confused look.

“Yeah, I remember. Why do I get the feeling that I’m once again the last person to know about something important?”

Jungkook reaches down to rub the back of Namjoon’s neck in an attempt to loosen up the clearly tense state of the leader. It’s a pity that Namjoon has to go through this part alone, but something tells Jungkook that this may be a trend where him and Beth are concerned.

Beth continues looking at Mr. Bang warily as he begins to speak. “Yeah, sorry about that. You’re just hard to get a hold of sometimes.” There’s a pause in the which Namjoon considers ripping the laptop from Mr. Bang’s hands and explaining himself, but Mr. Bang continues on. “Ok, Bethany. Consider this your 48 hour notice.”

The boys are caught between watching Beth and Namjoon, although the two of them end up having very similar reactions.

Namjoon chews on his cheek while he awaits Beth’s words, and Beth chews on her lip as she comes up with something to say. There is no uproar or shouting this time around, just Himari gently squeezing her friend’s arm in support.

Beth leans up, resting her elbows on her knees. “Alrighty then,” she stands from the couch and Jimin has to tug on Namjoon’s arm to keep him from doing the same thing. “48 hours? I could probably pull some strings, make it to Antarctica in time. You don’t happen to have any pilot friends, do you?”

Mr. Bang smiles, looking over his laptop to Namjoon who has a ghost of a smile on his face.

The boys watch as Beth settles down, leveling Mr. Bang with an intimidating look as she begins to ask him about where and when. Everyone settles back down, both the boys and the girls seeming to come out of their dazes.

Notes are taken, instructions are given, and Taehyung and Yoongi whisper to each other so quietly that Jimin wonders how they can even hear each other.

Hoseok watches on as Himari slowly comes back out of her shell that she thrust herself in. He’s unsure of what to think, but as she mumbles things to Beth and the two of them chuckle, Hobi finds himself able to breathe again.

What began as a contained phone call, with all of the boys sitting quietly and watching on, gradually turns into the boys moving about freely and Taehyung even sprawling out on the floor like his own soulmate. Taehyung watches her as she disappears from the frame, worried that she left without even saying goodbye. He can’t help the giggle that falls from his lips and he sees that she only left to return to her usual spot but with cereal.

Jin and Jungkook grow restless as the call drags on, mirroring each other as they attempt the quietest squats they can manage. Eventually Jimin joins in as well, keep his gaze firmly planted on his soulmates.

Namjoon stretches and makes room for Hobi on the couch. Yoongi falls asleep while watching Seohyun who has her legs tucked in as she rests her chin atop her knees. His quiet snores fill the room, but Mr. Bang doesn’t have the heart to wake him up.

Namjoon and Hobi quietly converse, discussing the dynamic their soulmates have.

“They’re really close,” Hoseok notes. “I mean, they all are.”

“Yeah, but they definitely have a tight bond. We’ll have to make sure we do a lot of things together.”

It’s nearly 11 when the call begins to wrap up. Taehyung gently taps Yoongi, who for once bolts up from his sleep without a single word.

“We’re all excited to see you,” Mr. Bang says, grinning.

Beth laughs, “By we you mean you and the staff, right?”

Namjoon and Hoseok chuckle darkly, their laughter masked by Mr. Bang’s own laugh.

“Obviously. And maybe a few other people as well. See you Thursday?”

“See you Thursday.”

Mr. Bang cuts the call, looking around the room expectantly. “Well done. I don’t think they noticed. See you Thursday?” He asks, clearly worn out.

“Thanks!” Jungkook shouts over his shoulder, heading out along with his brothers. Taehyung and Jimin burst out into a sprint, relieved to finally be out of the confines of Mr. Bang’s office. Jin follows along, clutching his stomach as he groans.

“I’m starving,” he grumbles. “Hobi! Call the takeout place you like!”

Yoongi stumbles along the hall, clearly still half-asleep. “Thursday, you guys.”

Everyone piles into the elevator, each one mumbling something about Thursday. Hobi gets the takeout place on the phone, giving his order.

Namjoon leans his head against the wall of the elevator, smiling to himself.

“You’re soulmate is funny,” Taehyung says. “Do you really think she’ll go to Antarctica?”

Everyone chuckles at the comment, Namjoon included. “Who knows. I hope not, though. It’s too cold there.”

“Are you going to get her?” Jin asks, eyes wide. “There’s polar bears up there!”

Namjoon smiles at his friend, a blush creeping up his neck.

“Oh, you’re smitten Namjoon!” Jungkook cries out. Everyone joins in on the teasing, hardly letting the leader breathe. He glares at them all, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t act like you guys aren’t, either.”

“Yeah,” Jimin pipes up, eyeing his next target who is none the wiser. “Can we talk about Yoongi with his mouth wide open all night?”

It’s safe to say that Jimin had nowhere to run in the small elevator, and Yoongi made him regret his words in record time.

taglist: @mae-musicbitch @heartblackerthancoffee​ @agustneeds​ @eusticenatalie​ @taylorroe3​

[himbeaux-on-ice]

Can I just say that Habs “fans” who act like Carey Price’s contract is somehow patient zero of all this team’s problems drive me absolutely fucking insane? Seriously. Buckle up. This is about to be a rant.

Now. First things first. Is it ideal that the $10 million goalie is currently uh, not doing very good? Fucking NO! I am disappointed as shit with that and I don’t like seeing him struggle. I know he can be better. He has to be better. Obviously.

However. That being said.

Do I think it’s an incredibly stupid look to spend several tweets complaining about all the issues Habs defence have been having, and then also griping that they haven’t started Jake Allen enough for how he’s performing, only to then for some inexplicable reason state that the FIRST THING, the first thing that needs to be dealt with after the new coaching staff have had ONE GAME (and zero practices) to work on things, is somehow “well, the ten million dollar man in net is weighing them down, that contract has gotta go!”?

Yes! That’s stupid!!

I think that’s a very ice cold small-brain take, and not just because Price is my favourite of favourites for as long as I’ve been a hockey fan! I have reasons, dammit!! I put THOUGHT into this!!

Here, dear ppl of Habs twitter who will never read this, are some reasons why this narrative you’re concocting is dumb, and why management/coaching are unlikely to think of trying to ditch Price mid-season to fix the current problems:

1: Time. It has been one (1) game under Ducharme. He has been able to run zero (0) full practices on off days with the team. We just changed up a major piece on the Habs chess board — why don’t you give it a minute to see what fresh eyes and minds can do with this roster before you decide we are fucked? This season is fast-moving, sure, but there is time for us to ride out some little bumps here and still make a playoff spot in this Canadian division. Have patience. Do you remember what patience is? Dom is a new head coach, not a wish-granting fairy godmother. Chill. Do you remember chill?

(rest of this under a cut because I actually LIKE Habs Tumblr, and I want to be nice to you all by not making you scroll past all of it if you don’t want to)

2: Jake Allen exists. There are a couple of things I like for what this means for the Habs. Firstly, for basically the first time in his NHL career, we are not in a situation where if Carey Price is in a slump, we have to go “Ah, shit, so now our options are let his stats tank while he tries to get the groove back in net, OR throw whoever the poor backup is out there to get murdered while we plummet through the standings.... 😬” We don’t have that problem right now, because the backup is... actually good? Oh my god, the backup is actually good! Thank fuck! We’re not doomed. If I’m Ducharme, I put Allen in net for a few consecutive starts to put a solid backstop behind all my fun experiments I’m probably planning with the skating roster (to catch their slip-ups, while also giving Carey lots of time and rest with which to work hard on sorting out whatever his issue is along with the goalie coaches).

2b: Jake Allen exists and is competition. Hell, if I’m Ducharme, maybe I even play a little hardball and say “Look, Carey, I don’t want you to be an expensive benchwarmer, but if things don’t pick up soon I am going to start whoever is doing best and you will have to compete for that net.” Related to my last point, when was the last time Carey Price had to push himself to compete for net time against anything other than his own injuries, and wasn’t simply always the default starter? Has that EVER been a thing? Honestly as much as I love the idea of him being The Goalie for the Habs, I also kinda like this idea a lot because I think it could really push him to a higher standard of performance. Maybe that kind of high-pressure situation (given how much he thrives in the pressure-cooker of the playoffs) could be what he NEEDS in order to Be Carey Price again. Worst comes to worst, he doesn’t respond to that challenge, and I am very sad but the Habs have a good goalie in net anyway, because Hallelujah, Jake Allen exists! God, isn’t it nice to have Jake Allen? Bless him.

3: Money. Guys, this league is so broke right now. Seriously. Seriously. Nobody has any fucking money. The Habs probably have more money than most teams, and that does not help when it comes to offloading large contracts. Trades are a NIGHTMARE both because of the flat cap but also because travel is complicated (especially cross-border) but also nobody wants to trade within their division if possible because all your games are against them. Who in the name of fuck do you think is jumping at the idea of taking the $10 million per through 20-lots-and-lots-of-years-from-now contract of a goalie who is currently struggling, impressive past record aside? What kind of astral plane of fantasy hockey are you on to think there’s a trade out there for that within this season. Shut up. And no, don’t bring up the expansion draft, this post is a rebuttal SPECIFICALLY to the people who think that Price and his contract are the biggest problem that needs to be dealt with RIGHT NOW and first on the list of ways to immediately remedy the team’s struggles.

4: Spite. Specifically to piss you off, bud. You personally.

5: Knowing how to troubleshoot properly. Fellas, if my computer is running slowly and freezing up a lot, do I immediately decide the first step to fixing it is to crack open the chassis, remove the hard drive, and try to sell that hard drive to someone to see if I can enough money back to somehow get a better hard drive for less? No, dipshit. That’s not how troubleshooting a complex system works works. It’s the same with hockey teams. Ah, my star goalie is not performing great. This situation is deeply less than ideal. If you’re actually good at troubleshooting, the first thing you do is not “WELL. I GUESS WE’LL HAVE TO THROW THE WHOLE GOALIE OUT. HE’S TOAST.” The first thing you do, if you’re a smart coach, is you say “Okay, what are my defence doing in front of him? What are they doing to reduce the amount and quality of our opponents’ scoring chances? Oh. Oh, they’re taking a lot of penalties, and... oh, uh, some of this is very not great. Yikes.” And then you start your work by trying to make the defence actually work instead of running the same Pairs That Everyone Is Very Much Over And Tired Of, because your goalie is actually supposed to be your Last Line of Defence. And maybe during that time you give more starts to Goalie Who Is Absolutely Slaying It, so that when you start trying new D-pairs and they inevitably have some mistakes, it doesn’t immediately turn into an Oh God Holy Fuck moment every time, because that last line of defence backstopping them is solid. The reason you need to deal with defense first is because a) You know you have a reliable goalie (Allen) in your pocket right now if you need him. What you don’t have is a whole-ass proven and tested and practiced Backup D-Core you can swap into the roster in front of your goalies to make their lives easier. Fix your defense and it WILL improve your goalies, even marginally. Defrag the hard drive before you ask why it’s not working. and b) If you need to go looking for any new D-men to solve the issues, those are WAY easier and cheaper to find than top-tier goalies, and you always want to start any troubleshooting process with trying the simplest solutions first to hopefully save time and money. The better that D-core is, the less it fucks your team over if the goalie isn’t feeling themselves, because the D is going to stop more of those pucks before they ever even become the goalie’s problem. FIX. DEFENCE. FIRST. Then try to train your goalie back into top form. THEN explore your other options.

6: The vicious cycle. Guys. We literally do this once every year or second year. EVERY time Carey Price has a slump, this fanbase gets into a tizzy like the Bell Centre is burning down and he was the one with the matches. And what ALWAYS happens literally within the year, every single time? He gets his mojo back like he did last summer in the bubble and goes on a heater and everybody goes “JESUS PRICE!!!! 🙌” and is ready to name their firstborn kid after him. Until eventually that performance becomes unsustainable, and he becomes mortal again, and suddenly he’s The Real Problem With This Franchise once again. I know he’s the guy they chose to build the team around instead of a superstar forward, but oh my god folks. You’d think he was the only player on the team. Guys, I feel like fucking Sisyphus pushing a blue blanc et rouge boulder up Mont Royal once a year with this shit. This man’s entire career has been a constant seesaw narrative between “Carey Price is our saviour!” and “Carey Price should be exiled to Nome!!!!” from parts of this fanbase, I swear. Look, slumps suck, but for once we are actually lucky enough to be in a position where this team, for the first time in YEARS, does not solelylive or die by the inscrutable magical cycles of Carey Price’s goalie powers — because when he has to step back and work to get back into his groove, there is FINALLY a SECOND GUY who is GREAT. Honestly, given that the state of this team for so long has been “they will go as far as Carey Price can take them” and he has put in a pretty fucking decent job of it despite all of the team’s other struggles, I feel like it is owed it to the guy to be like “Okay, well, we have somebody else solid to fill the net right now, and a chance to really figure out our defence and special teams with this new coach. Why don’t you take a step back and work your ass off at trying to get back into the form I know you can still perform at, and we’ll go from there?”

Anyway. Some parts of this fanbase have been waiting for a fresh excuse to claim Price is overrated, washed-up, and to blame for all of this team’s flaws and ills ever since he signed that contract, if not since the start of his NHL career. Just unreal how nasty some of this fanbase is willing to be about a player who is ON. YOUR. TEAM.

Am I saying he is beyond critique of his play and can do no wrong and his contract is perfect? No! I want this team to have the best goaltending it can get, and I want them to kick ass and take names. The difference is, I still believe Carey Price is a part of that winning formula, and I also think Twitter is overflowing with idiots who just repeat what everybody else says. He’s still a better goalie than your ass would be if I stuck you out there to stop shots from Mark Schieffle, for crap’s sake.

“The first thing that has to go is Carey Price’s contract 🤪”. Shut the fuck up. You are actively making other people stupider by talking. Go eat sand. Good day.

[highladyof-erilea]

C.O.D.E.N.A.M.E.S. - chapter two

Sorry it’s taken me so long to get this chapter out! With school and soccer season starting back up again my schedule has been really busy. I will try to get these chapter out as consistently as I can, but this fic will most likely be updated sporadically whenever I have time. Without out further ado, here is chapter two of C.O.D.E.N.A.M.E.S. 

<<chapter one * masterlist * ao3 *

~~~

“Really Gavriel, everything's gonna be fine,” Rowan consoled Gavriel while he assembled his pistol. “They might be one of the best we’ve hunted yet, but you know they won’t see me coming. It’s going to go just the way we want it to.” The captain really had to have more trust in him. Sure, Rowan could go off book sometimes, but it was always for the best and he always managed to complete the mission no matter what, so Gavriel had nothing to worry about. 

“You know I trust you to get it done, but the director is very adamant that this mission gets pulled off efficiently with no casualties on either side,” Gavriel emphasized either, as if he knew that Rowan would sacrifice their mission if it meant saving someone on their side. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. “If we don’t complete this mission soon, she’ll order us back to base and put someone else on the job. I think I’m speaking for everyone when I say none of us want to go anywhere near that place anytime soon.” There was a resounding agreement from everybody in the room, including Rowan. “You’ll take Lorcan with you. He’ll have them in his aim in case anything goes wrong.” Lorcan groaned from across the room, slumping on one of the couches as Rowan raised his brow.

“Honestly, Gavriel. I don’t understand why you don’t just send me in alone. I can get them from 100 yards away, knock them out, and bring ‘em in. It would be much simpler for me to go in alone and drag Rowan along with me simply as the muscle. He can’t even fit in tight places. He’s too big.” Lorcan smirked at Rowan as he started collecting his gear. “Trust me Gavriel. I’ll be more efficient by myself than Rowan could ever be.” 

“Stop it, both of you. You have your orders and I expect you to follow them. Unless you want to be on dishes for the next week?” Both Rowan and Lorcan received a pointed look from Gavriel. They stayed silent. “That’s what I thought. Now stop moping and get your asses out of here. You don’t take a step in here unless you have them with you.” Gavriel dismissed them, promptly walking out of the room. Right before he shut the door, Rowan swore he could hear Gavriel mutter under his breath Sometimes I feel like I’m raising children. Rowan chuckled at that.

~

The abandoned hotel that Rowan found himself in looked like a jungle had washed through. There were vines crawling up the walls and spiderwebs in every corner and available space of the building. The side wall on the westside was decimated, the sunset shining through, almost mocking him as though it knew that something was going to go wrong. Rowan spotted a stairwell to his left that would take him up onto the roof, where presumably his target would be. Climbing up the stairs, hearing nothing but the wind even though the door to the roof was open, he realized that something was about to go wrong. His unit had already scouted this building hours before, in response to the tip they had received a couple days ago. 

It had seemed to appear out of the blue, Fenrys finding it in the mailbox at their current station, which hadn’t been used since their first day at their house to deliver all the necessary information for their assignments. It had everybody looking over their shoulders, considering that nobody was supposed to know their location or who they really were. But once Fen had seen what the letter was actually about, they decided to throw caution out of the window.

~

Looking up from his reports, Rowan noticed Fenrys standing outside like he had seen a ghost. Following his line of sight, Rowan looked towards their mailbox with its red flag sticking up. Rowan dismissed it at first glance, but then took a double take when he realized why exactly Fenrys looked like he had seen a ghost. The flag was up. On their mailbox. That should never have been used. It didn’t even have a street number on it.

Trying to look inconspicuous, Rowan called out to Lorcan to pull up the security cameras, and sprinted outside to join Fenrys. Calling out to him, Fenrys threw an arm across Rowan’s chest, stopping him from advancing any further. “Don’t take another step. Until we know what exactly is in there, we shouldn’t even be in the vicinity of it.”

Staring wide-eyed at the mailbox, Rowan responded to Fenrys.  “Lorcan’s pulling up the cameras. We should head back inside and wait for Gavriel’s decision before we do anything more.” 

As it turned out, the package appeared to be harmless and once Lorcan was able to get a good visual of the package, deeming them to be safe at the moment, Fenrys received the package from the mailbox. It turned out to be a letter with only a single address written on it.  The North Stag

~

Considering that The North Stag was an abandoned hotel and had old connections to the assassin they were hunting, Gavriel decided to follow through on the tip, sending the team to scout out the building so they would know what they were dealing with. Considering everything now, Rowan really wished they had known more information about their target. Because when he got the call over the comms from Lorcan that he had eyes on them, they were both woefully underprepared for what came after that.

Climbing the stairwell that led to the roof, Rowan approached the door as quietly as he could, as to not disturb anything and alert the target to his presence.When he opened the door there was a slight resistance but he was able to get it open without making any alerting noises. He credited it to the rusty hinges and it not being used in years. 

Creeping through the doorway, Rowan scanned his surroundings. The entire ground was covered with gravel and overgrown weeds crawling over the edges of the roof and the box above the stairwell. He assumed that the target was on the other side of the box, seeing as he could not see them and the assassin’s intended victim would be inside of the building that Rowan was facing away from. There were several rusted over ventilation vents scattered around the roof. They could be helpful if there was a struggle, but as long as Rowan could get the jump on the guy, he could have them down in mere seconds. Of course, Lorcan was aimed and ready across the street, but Rowan wouldn’t need his help besides being muscle to drag their prisoner back to the base.

Rowan still didn’t understand why Gavriel insisted Lorcan be there. He should know perfectly well how Rowan worked best on his own and backup always messed everything in the end instead of actually helping out. Rowan rounded the corner as quietly as he could, keeping his eyes open and trigger finger poised so he could take the shot as a last resort. Rowan wanted to be the sneak attack and not the other way around. He didn’t want anything backfiring on him. When he had eyes on the target, Rowan zeroed in on their position and proceeded as he usually would.

Rowan answered Lorcan over the comms, ~Approaching the target. In view and ready to engage.~

Lorcan responded in his usual manner with a grunt. That was all the confirmation he needed.

Rowan glanced over his target before closing in, noting that they were dressed in very loose clothes, which didn’t seem the most ideal for a stealth mission. He pushed that into the back of his mind to use for later and snuck up on his target with his pistol poised and ready to shoot. He placed the black, cold barrel on his target's head and said “If I were you, I wouldn’t pull that trigger.”

~~~

Thank you so much for reading! Comments are encouraged and appreciated...I really want to work on my writing and they are one way to help me grow. Let me know if you would like to be added to the Tag List!

[theangrycomet]

Comparing KO’s (OK KO) Character Arc to Cassandra’s (TTS)

Ok THIS^ actually bothers me and I really hope it’s a shit-post. Sorry, @astratic, but you have inadvertently signed up for some Character Analysis.

Let’s establish one critical difference between Cassandra and KO before we really dig into this shall we?

Cassandra is a fully developed, fully functional adult roughly in her early to mid twenties.

KO is a CHILD, who’s age is literally 6-11, though fans typically agree that he acts in the 8-9 range. Additionally, he is commonly head cannoned to be on the Autistic Scale and/or ADHD.

Because of this, their decisions and actions need to be seen through different lenses.

Point 1: work tirelessly to become a hero like [parent] who you idolize

KO:

This statement perfectly depicts KO’s goals. KO strives to be a hero in order to help people to the best of his abilities. He hates being useless and powerless to help his friends, so he trains to be a better hero and works through his struggles with their help. He lives to be like his mommy and his father-figure. I mean, look at him when Gar praises KO and tells him how proud he is of him.

Cassandra:

Cassandra’s goals are different. She wants to be a guard at the end of the day for glory. She wants people to see and acknowledge her abilities and strength and admire her for it.

Yes, making her dad proud is a benefit of that, but that is NOT her driving motivation.

Point 2: Become discourage by lack of progress and hindrance by social status

KO:

Social status was NEVER KO’s problem. His stalling in progress, as I mentioned in another post, was a mental block. He couldn’t tap into his power He came from lower middle, working class family with a single mom.

Cassandra:

Social Status was her problem, but only up until the 1st season finale where she was placed as Captain of the Guard.

She had regular progress in getting more time and respect as a royal guard. The fact that She CHOSE to leave that behind in order to follow her crush on some half-baked, unplanned road trip is only the fault of her own. She threw out the chance she had been waiting for for her entire life to follow Rapunzel.

And than was given numerous opportunities through out the trip to leave and pursue other goals. 

Point 3. Be Mentally Ill

Okay, first OP, you could phrased that WAY better. 

Secondly, the mental struggles our characters face are completely different and largely incomparable so to group the two is insulting to both characters.

KO: 

Disassociative Identity Disorder (or multiple personality disorder) 

Possible Undiagnosed Autism and or ADHD

KO develops Disassociative Identity Disorder, due to his frustration at lack of progress, the manipulation of Shadowy figure, and his bottling up of negative emotions. KO is mostly unaware of what happens when TKO is in charge and vice-versa. It took the two a long time to figure out how to work together and eventually merge back into one personality. 

He also demonstrates some traits typically associated with Autism and ADHD, though some of those could be on account of his age. It is a common head cannon amongst fans that his either and sometimes both. 

Cassandra:

Cassandra doesn’t have to deal with any mental illness until the season 3 finale where it can be gleamed that she’s working through depression if you squint at it. 

Yes, there is the Blueberry Ghost, but she was never a result of Cass’ mental state so much as her being host to the Moon Stone. 

Her struggles lie in reigning in her anger and her pride so that she can see problems from unbiased perspectives and apologize for her actions. And that is left still unresolved by the time the finale comes around. 

Point 4. find out long lost parent is actually horrifically villainous and have a whole crisis about it.

Perhaps, we need a little reminder here before I dig into this one:

KO is a child figuring himself out and Cassandra is an adult figuring out what she wants in life.

KO:

KO had been struggling with his darker side for quite some time before he asked his Mom about who exactly his dad was. 

This was something the show had demonstrated time after time that bothered KO, not knowing who his dad was.

So he finds out his dad was this big time hero, and gets reassurance from that fact that he comes from great heroes, so he too can be a hero. Only for that to be immediately tossed out the window when it’s revealed that the only person he hates in the entire world, the person he dubs as the truly evil villain, is actually his father. 

His whole world is not only shook to its core, but his self-confidence as well. Laserblast was a great hero who turned villain; what does that mean for a hero-in-training whose already struggling with that darker side. 

Praise Carol for not killing PV on the spot. 

Additionally, PV didn’t actually know KO even existed until a few months before this incident, and wasn’t even sure if KO was his kid (KO does coincidentally share a lot of Physical attributes to Gar) until KO came busting in, wearing Laserblast’s helmet and bragging about how his dad was a great hero.

So when they attempted to have that father-son relationship, it was as awkward and strained as it should have been. (I’ll get to the OK KO Finale in just a minute)

Cassandra:

Cass could have cared less as to whom her real parents were. She had her dad. She had her goals. She had her job. Who her parents were and why they dumped her on the Captain was irrelevant to her life. 

She didn’t care until Season 3, and that whole season was OOC for everybody, 

Even then, it wasn’t so much as a crisis so much as an excuse to use to fight Rapunzel. It didn’t matter that Gothel was her mother, it mattered that Gothel picked the Sundrop over her. Which in all honesty was the best thing that could have happened to Cass.

Her “crisis” revolved around a dead woman’s shattered legacy more than her mother. 

Point 5: Fall under the influence of said Villainous parental figure

KO TKO: (again, a CHILD)

TKO was used and manipulated into letting his darker side show by Professor Venomous/ Shadowy Figure, (this is my opinion), in order to actually have something they could relate to eachother on. 

Yes, Shadowy Venomous saw TKO as more of his tool for power, but you can’t deny that he wasn’t motivated to have his son by his side. 

Additionally, KO had at this point literally locked away a part of himself because he didn’t have the tools to deal TKO with this mentally or emotionally. So he responded the best way he could and pushed the problem down so he and others wouldn’t have to keep cleaning up TKO’s messes.  

KO was in desperate need for someone to understand how he was and how to help him.

And guess who was there.

Cassandra: (again, an ADULT)

Cass was never led on by Gothel, she was led on by Zhan Tiri.

Cass was delusioned that the moonstone was hers by Zhan Tiri just as much as Rapunzel was delusioned into thinking stopping the moonstone was her destiny by Demanitus. 

However, Zhan Tiri really didn’t make Cass do anything, she never pushed her past the breaking point, she never forced her to do anything. 

Baked Ziti only prompted Cass, reminding her what she was angry at. 

Cass was perfectly capable of ignoring her and doing her own thing. 

Point 6: suddenly and dramatically betray everyone you love even as they plead with you to stop. Become convinced they all hate you except for [villainous parental figure] who is actually just manipulating you to gain power.

This point is actually a very good description of what happened to both, given different contexts. Again, remember that KO is a child who is significantly more easily influenced than Cass should have been.

(Note: again, Zhan Tiri’s not her Parental figure and neither was Gothel)

Point 7: ruin everything and destroy your home

KO TKO:

His destructive rampage was motivated by the betrayal of the one person he believed to understand and support him entirely. He was literally grabbed by the shirt, lifted in the air, told he was nothing more than a tool at best, and that the plan to conquest together had been a lie. 

Wonder where I’ve seen THAT BEFORE?

(Sorry about the low photo Quality, I quickly search and screen shotted so)

(yes it’s this scene that made me think Mad Ben and TKO would get along)

Cassandra:

Which betrayal are we talking about? Because both involve trained guards rightfully attacking Cass for injuring the crown royalty and wrecking the castle.

Point 8/9: snap out of it at the last second and be horrified at what you've wrought/ the world is fixed by an incredible magic. Reconcile with your loved ones. Flourish

KO: 

This is accurate. 

But KO didn’t have to lose his power to see how bad he messed up. He was actually at the top of his game. He probably could have taken out the President of the Universe if he really wanted to. Instead he begged for everything to get fixed, and wished that EVERYONE (even Professor Venomous) could live their best lives. 

Cassandra:

She was only repentent AFTER she lost her power. Even then, she does not apologize for her actions but rather the circumstances and ONLY to Rapunzel herself. She does not care that she caused a world catastrophe, and still wouldn’t have had she won. 

With how it was executed, Cass did NOT deserve such an easy redemption. She should have had to work at it. She should have at least attempted to apologize to the people whose lives she ruined. To the people she’s hurt. Not just Rapunzel. Rapunzel has no right to forgive her in place of everyone else. 

Eugene should not have to forgive her.

Varian should not have to forgive her.

The Brotherhood honestly deserves to fight her in combat. 

She should not have been able to ride off into the sunset and avoid the consequences of her actions. 

BUT I digress. 

IN SUMMARY:

KO and Cass, while they share some similarities, do NOT have the same Character Arc. At all.

Sincerely, 

TheAngryComet