#the art of deception: the deadly dance

[shoutascoffeepot]

Chapter Three: Unloaded

The Art of Deception: The Deadly Dance - Series

Pairing: Aizawa Shouta x Female Original Character

Themes: Mafia, psychological, gore, age gap, cultural differences.

!!!Trigger Warnings!!!: Age gap, sexual visualizations of a minor (she's almost 18), swearing, gun usage, deep talk, kidapping, controlling, smoking, drugs, graphic depictions of gore, blood, torture, dead dove do not eat.

Notes: I decided to switch from third person to first and switching POV from this chapter onward. Similar to Haunting Adeline's writing style. Also this chapter has our first 18+ Scene. Lmk if you'd like to be tagged for upcoming chapters.

Also, this chapter contains unfiltered criminal and psychological behavior, please be mindful whilst reading the trigger warning list and expect the worse before proceeding. Read at your own discretion. Your mental health matters <3

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

I will start going through my followers and viewers of my posts and if you don't have your age I will resort to blocking for the safety of my content.

Shouta

The flower I had picked was not what I thought it was. My instinct, alongside the evidence, the little things, pointed to my suspicions being correct.

After breakfast this morning, I was energetic enough to finish up a good portion of both the legal business and oversee the records of our shipment tracks. It’s the coffee. It’s the motherfucking caffeine. It’s anything but that cold run in my veins when I think of her. 

Pursed glossed lips, long curled black lashes, was she foolish enough to challenge me? Who the fuck was this Lilith? Not a wallet or a phone with her when I caught her. No identification, no records, apartment empty of any source of identification, I got nothing on her. It’s going to be a hassle to get her info. 

As if I was her pawn, not the other way around. She’s kidnapped, she should be throwing a fit, screaming, kicking, planning her escape. All I found was this disposable vape in her bra, laid neatly on the side of the table. I eyed it then slammed shut my laptop. I picked it out and smoked it. 

Strawberries, mint. 

Fuck. Is that how her breath smells? Would that be how her soft glossy lips feel? No, they would taste of glossy cherry candy.. Or fresh strawberries. 

I shouldn’t be attracted to her. She’s well ten years younger, if not half my age. I shouldn’t have kidnapped her. We barely had two interactions and this is how I’m reacting. Putting the vape back down, I slid down my desk chair, under the table where I laid my sleeping bag and some pillows. If I sleep uncomfortably I would wake easily, I would be alarmed. And this bag brought me comfort….

– 

I scrunched my face as my back ached from the awkward position I was in, perhaps I should’ve slept in bed. No, I’ll rest when I get all my work done. I just need to… Where’s my phone? I grabbed it and looked at the time, four in the afternoon. I slept for four hours, that’s the longest I’ve gone in a long time. Probably why my back hurts. 

Lunch, we could have lunch.. Dinner, with Lilith, I’ll make sure she sits face on one of the cameras and we could start the background check from there. Then we have that deal with the North Japanese Yakuza who should arrive tonight. I will need my notes ready. 

I stood, grabbing my suit jacket and tie, did I sweat so much? So a quick shower first and foremost. Walking out of my office, I went to my wing from the mansion, seeing my right hand, Shinsou, as he caught up with me. He was well young, eighteen, and I was going to give him all this and teach him how to manage it if I were gone. 

“Aizawa-Senpai.”  His tone was dark, as if he were just a boy. I sighed, was he responsible enough? 

“You hadn’t told me about the guest.” He continued, his purple messy hair brushed back out of his face as he stared at me, I looked ahead, annoyed. 

“What makes you think I should report to you everything I do? Kozou?” I snapped after clicking my tongue. 

“I hadn’t exp–” 

“Do not act like you are in charge when you’re merely a mentee at my mercy.”  I reminded him. “I will take a shower. Do me a favor and tell Lilith we’re having dinner at five, introduce yourself to her if you wish. Afterwards we will take our leave.” 

“Yes Aizawa-Senpai.” He took a turn as I went into my room. Tossing my jacket and shoes aside as I unbuttoned my shirt. I let my clothes drop and pulled my hair tie out of my hair, even though I showered this morning. I hated how warm I get when I sleep. It’s like I’m a fucking heater. 

Letting the cold water run over my body, I kept my eyes closed. I wish I could stay like this forever. Unbothered, uninterrupted, no need to talk, no need to understand, no need to be alarmed. The cold water seems to understand me best, cooling the fire burning my skin. Washing the sweat and worry away. Draping me with peace and serenity. 

The fire burning me is the dread of what I did eating at me. Lilith seems unbothered, too carefree with her freedom taken away. I suppose she’s smart for not wasting her energy. Albeit it was unsettling for my instincts. The same tinglings that I get before a disaster unfolds, the tingling that got me where I am today. 

However, this is the first time that this instinct…

Excited me. 

I couldn’t tell whether she was a foolish girl thinking this is fun or someone I should be afraid of. Perhaps a spy sent to kill me? But if she was she wouldn’t have hesitated at the shooting range. Her cat-eyes simply fluttered as they pleaded the gun out of our hands, dark eyes having the sun shining on them to a chocolate color. Thick brows knitted together and biting on her lower lip because of the anxiety. 

Lilith was so adorable her little reactions have a grip on me. It sent all the heat to my groin. Fuck. I have no time for this. I should not be attracted to her; she might be a threat to me and the thought of her having a knife to my throat isn’t intimidating me as it should. I still reached out to my cock, stroking it. A heavy sigh left my lips as I closed my eyes. The coldness of the water on my warm cock edged me just right.

What if it was her red painted nails stroking me? If she pleaded with those eyes to taste me? Sitting between my legs and using her pretty little words to beg me? I yearn to pull her hair back, expose her neck and mark it. If she sits on my thigh, would I feel her wetness on my legs? Would she grind herself to her own release and whine out my name?

Fuck. No.

I came all over myself. The water quickly washed it off. I grabbed the head and cleaned the rest of myself with shower gel. When I got out I wrapped a towel over my waist and squeezed the water out of my hair. When I idly got the blowdry out to dry my hair, my eyes went to all the scars scattered over my chest and abdomen, shoulders. The hair on my chest – It wasn’t common for Asians to grow hair. And for some reason now I find it an insecurity of mine. 

Lilith was beautiful. I don’t know what she had or what she has seen or preferred to her men. But she was the glowy, influencer  kind, and I was the pale, too lazy to shave, just putting sunscreen on kind. And I could easily see by her side a pretty kind of man, too, one who probably has blue eyes, clean shave, gelled hair. Like superman. 

I cursed the way my thoughts were in the wrong alley as I buckled my belt, wearing the shirt and closing it. But seriously, the idea of her being with other men shouldn’t nudge me the way it is. She’s too young either way. I just so happened to catch her. She might be a spy. I’ll eventually have to kill her after finding who sent her to me. So whatever thoughts were in the shower, they stayed there and shall go down the drains. 

I decided that, and I don’t change my decisions. 

Lilith

We were having dinner, and the whole goddamn day I was so bored. I took a stroll in the gardens, sketched on the little notebook that I had found. I did a whole face of makeup, it was the same as my graduation too. And tried on the dresses that were offered and shoes, they were all designer. Damn, I don’t know if this is a curse or blessing. 

I was wearing a black satin and lace dress that had a cocktail top but sleeves that reached down and matching gloves, it hugged my body but not as tightly that it would be skintight. I looked at myself in the mirror just as I heard the door open and I jumped looking at the man before me. He had purple wavy hair pushed back and was in a black button up and pants. He eyed me down. I sent back a glare and clenched my jaw. How fucking dare he think he has the right to look at me that way?

“Konnichiwa. Shinsou Hitoshi.” He muttered and leaned on the wall, his eyes finally coming to meet with me while he sucked his teeth. He was enjoying what he saw, huh?

“Lilith.” I patted down the dress. 

“Nice to meet you. Aizawa-Senpai and you are having dinner at five,” He coldly stated. 

I checked the clock. “It’s four fifty.” 

He was acting interested but the way he crossed his arms in front of himself. He feels inferior. Aizawa Shouta didn’t seem the last-minute planner type. Even if he were, why would this Shinsou person be feeling inferior, was he trying to put me on the spot? 

“You got a problem? You seem to already have other plans.” He chimed. 

“No, but with no phone nor access to the internet I am investing in whatever idle things I like to do.” 

“And you enjoy dressing up like a prostitute?” 

I gazed at him with my tired eyes, how adorable would it be if he accidentally had his eyeballs gouged out. I then looked away, Yin was quick on her feet, good thing she found and took my electronics before his men emptied my apartment. 

Now lying about not having any shit other than a measly phone should be easy. 

“Cat’s got your tongue?” 

I turned to look at the lavender-haired boy again. Wearing a pair of heels and putting on perfume before walking past him, my shoulder hitting his chest. But he was quick to grab me. 

“Don’t try acting strong. Lilith. You’ll just embarrass yourself.” He advised. 

Grabbing his wrists, I pinned them to his sides on the wall and laughed. “Don’t threaten me, boy.” My nails dug into his wrists despite the skimpy lace between his skin and them, drawing blood. “Don’t make an enemy out of someone you know only their name.” 

His purple eyes widened as he struggled against my grip, he was hardly taller than me with my heels on. “Go cry to your daddy about how your cockiness got you souvenirs.”  I let go of him and left. 

I strode through the gardens whilst cursing myself. Fuck fuck fuck, why did I go off on him? Now they’re bound to know. Nono no no, calm down.. Calm the fuck. Down. Just say the truth, best manipulation and lies are the ones that have the truth embedded in them. Don’t panic, panic only leads to disaster. Fix boldness with more boldness. 

Aizawa approached me from the other side of the cobblestone sidewalk, his eyes focused on me. Almost strained struggling, I smirked, he probably is trying not to look down. He stopped as I reached him then we strolled together. Confidently, I smiled at him. “Good evening?” 

“Good evening, doll.” His response made my brow arch. 

He thinks I’m a doll. He seems tenser than before. He must have suspected something. If I were him, I’d think I’m a spy sent out to kill him. We reached a dining area that was located in the traditional area, the seats were floor-leveled and the table just an inch high enough to serve them. 

“Here,” He pulled out a chair for me. 

“Chivalry’s alive?” I laughed as I sat down, and his cologne hit me as he pushed my chair in before taking his own seat. It was spicy, like cinnamon? And vanilla? Mixed with an earthy scent..

“Itadakimasu.” He muttered. 

“Itadakimasu..” I repeated as I grabbed the chopsticks, maki rolls, soup and sushi, today we’re having more Japanese cuisine huh?

“You seem dressed up” He commented as he dug in. 

“So do you, sir..” I tilted my head, putting the salmon sashimi in my mouth. 

“I have somewhere to go after this.” He cleared his throat. Did the nickname catch him off guard?

“I’m coming with you.” I told him. 

“No you’re not.” 

“I am.”

“This isn’t some sort of gameplay.” 

“I am smart enough to realize that.” I stared at him as he looked at his soup, clenching his jaw. 

“Who are you?”

“Lilith.” 

He clenched his jaw again. 

“Trust goes both ways. Aizawa… Shouta.” I looked down when he stared at me, we barely had a minute of eye contact. I suppose I keep him on edge as he keeps me. 

“Who sent you?” He demanded. 

“If I was sent you wouldn’t be breathing right now.” I stuffed my face more, gosh I’m hungry and this food is amazing. 

“Kidding, I’m only joking. Or am I?” I raised a brow. “What I mean to say, Aizawa Shouta, not everyone is your enemy.” I continued. 

“Then what are you?” He reluctantly continued his food. 

“Your hostage. Either way, I will be coming to whatever auction you’re planning to go to.”

We wrapped up and I stood up after dabbing my mouth. He also led the way, arms up to tie his hair back into a messy bun. I’m a big fan of messy buns, but he has thick hair and it seemed painful. I wonder how it feels to touch it. No. 

No.

I want to though. 

It’s none of my business.

Fine. 

I leaned back on the leather seats of his car across from Aizawa who was texting on his phone. I felt my forehead begging mayday. I rubbed my brows, fuck. I have no idea where we’re going. But I just know I have to tag along no matter what. 

“Do you need a gun?” I heard Aizawa’s voice ask as I glanced at him, his eyebags seemed a little better than this morning. 

“No.” I looked out the window. “Turn up the radio, please.” I asked the driver as I dug my bra for my gloss and applied some. 

This is going to be an eventful night, however it may go. 

Shouta

She asked to come, yet wants no weapon. She knows her way with a gun. What the fuck did I fucking get in this claw-game and do I even want to be angry right now? Fuck it, if she died it’s less of a hassle for me. 

We reached and before I could get off she went out first. Eager, I followed, anticipating her trying to escape. But she didn’t. All I saw was her ass shifting very subtly as she cat-walked in front of me on the carpet to the entrance. In the cafe, they took us to the vip lounge where there sat a big round table and I took a seat with my men. 

She remained standing. Wandering about in the lounge room, I could sense and hear the mutters of my own crew either judging her or eye-fucking her. I tapped with my shoes on the hardwood floor, where was Shinsou?

He joined just as I thought that, the cuffs of his sleeve barely hid the trace of a bandage, when did he get hurt? He sat beside me with the folder. I side-eyed him, expecting him to tell me what happened. He leaned into my ear and whispered. 

“Lilith.” 

My eyes trailed to her again, she bent down, ass up as she looked under the table. The guys were making insolent hand gestures. I can’t take this shit, I reached inside my suit jacket for my pack and lit one up, taking a deep breath. Soon, the North Japanese Yakuza joined, and Lilith stood by, glaring them down as they took their seats. 

Her doe eyes were now judgemental and scary. 

I stifled a chuckle, why is she acting like my little bodyguard? 

Then I noticed. 

With the Northern Yakuza was a little girl, about eight? she seemed different, with that condition…Not having pigmentation.. Fuck I forgot the name. Her eyes were red and hair was bluish white. She was dressed in white hospital gown and had bandages all over her arms and legs and neck. The sight already put my stomach in a twist. Why the fuck did they have a little girl? 

“Should we begin?” I cleared my throat, glancing at Lilith and she was already switching glances between me and the girl. 

“Yes, as we mentioned in code we have many benefits of forming an alliance together.” The brunette leader started, wasn’t the leader an old man? 

I kept quiet, letting him do all the talk, we’ll see how this takes us. 

“Out North, we have established secret laboratories where we conduct experiments for a new product that would break the black market.” He continued.  His assistant handed me a tablet that showed me boring statistics. I skimmed over the next slide which explained the product. Serum…. Mutates human genetics? 

“It’s a bullet infused with a new type of germ. It's an unidentified disease, and deadly if not treated. Neither a virus or bacteria. But something far more concerning. It mutates the genes of human DNA.” 

The more I listen, the more I get the urge to vomit. I could feel Lilith’s aura without even exchanging eye contact. The pieces are all coming together. Is the little girl with bandages their donor?

“Of course, to make our finances skyrocket. We intend to have the antidote and sell it to the medicine companies. And with your transportati-” 

I slammed my fist on the table. 

“The Underground Japanese Yakuza does not have business with the likes of you.” I could feel my blood boiling already. 

“Excuse me?” He spoke, laughing. “I’m afraid you have no choice, Eraser.” 

I stood up, but then the rattling of guns aimed at my head and my men aiming theirs on them. 

“You do not force me into a deal.” My tone threatened. 

“We could achieve greatness! Change the world, fix the overpopulation as well. We’d be heroes!” He sounded like a lunatic. And looked like one at that.

“That’s not what we’re supposed to be. Especially with this sickly plan. You disgust me.”

“Gentlemen, fire–” 

“No one moves or your pathetic leader’s dead.” Lilith suddenly came up from under the table and pinned the man by his neck to the wall of the lounge. SHE’S HOLDING A PENCIL IN HER HAND? TO HIS EYE? 

They were about to move the guns when she dangerously ticked his eye as he gulped. “IT’S NOT A THREAT IT’S A FUCKING PROMISE. I WILL NOT HESITATE TO MAKE YOU ALL WITNESS SOMETHING WORSE THAN YOUR PATHETIC LIVES.”  She screamed at us.

Even I froze in fear. 

“Guns down, or one of his eyes is down. You choose.” She ordered. 

One by one, his men put their guns on the table. 

“ON THE FUCKING FLOOR. UNLOADED.” The man had visibly goosebumped when she yelled at him and they threw their guns to the floor. I couldn’t even think such a sound could come out of her.

One of them defied her, grabbing the gun and triggering it and she did not hesitate to stab Chisaki in the eyeball. No one dared to look away except the little girl. The guttural scream of agony that escaped him definitely reached even Italy. Blood poured out of one side of his face as he cried in utter pain. Lilith, unfazed, pulled his eyelids open, and made sure she gouged out the eyeball on the pencil as she pulled it out. It looked like a bloody horror movie kebab. 

She turned to look at us, blood splattered on her face as she let go of Chisaki, I started to pity him. “Anyone want to join him?” She scanned the crowd. 

“I do not need a pencil, I have no problem pulling out your fucking arteries and playing connect with them. Ask this guy.” She patted Shinsou on his back. I saw Chisaki trying to crawl to a gun and load it. 

Before I could think to look at her, she wastes no time turning and slamming her heel on the ground just beside his hand, a loud crack indicating she broke the wooden floor, the gun fell from his hand. 

“I missed~” Her sweet voice cooed. Why was this turning me on? Why with every unexpected turn I find the rush of adrenaline going to all the wrong places? 

She lifted her dress, hiking her knee off the floor and tilting her head. “Which part of you should I step on? Does my underwear look cute from down there?” She asked him before pivoting and stepping on his thigh. The four-inch heel tore through his flesh as blood splattered on her calves. His cry was even worse than before. 

But all I could think of was her in a lingerie with blood splatters of her torture session right now. 

“I want to keep him. He’s fun.” She looked at me after taking out her heel from his flesh, a fountain of blood started coating everything as she squirmed and dug her heel back where it was to stop the blood. 

“What a mess you’ve fucking made.” She continues to degrade him as she takes off the heel, leaving it inside him as she walks one barefoot towards me, her eyes empty and daring – whatever that was behind them, that was the realness of the woman who stood before me. 

“Tell me, Eraser, do I look better in black?”

[beautycursed]

Glimmer, possessing a unique and often underestimated skill, has an innate talent for crafting exquisite floral perfumes. Drawing inspiration from the fragility and beauty of her father's glass tulips, she transforms the essence of delicate blooms into intricate scents that dance in the air. Each perfume she concocts becomes a manifestation of her artistry, a fragrant symphony that mirrors the ephemeral nature of the glass tulips themselves. In the heart of the arena, where the scent of blood and fear lingers like an uninvited guest, Glimmer's perfumes serve a dual purpose. Beyond their aesthetic allure, they become a strategic tool to veil her presence, allowing her to move through the deadly landscape unnoticed. Her mastery of blending fragrances ensures that even the most discerning noses would struggle to trace her steps.

However, Glimmer's ingenuity doesn't stop at personal concealment. As a crafty survival tactic, she extends her perfume expertise to her allies, teaching them the art of creating their own unique scents. Each ally is given a distinct recipe, subtly tweaked by Glimmer herself. This meticulous customization serves a dual purpose: it covers the pervasive scent of blood, and it becomes a clandestine identifier for her allies.

Under the guise of camaraderie, Glimmer imparts her knowledge, sharing the secrets of floral alchemy with her fellow tributes. Yet, unbeknownst to them, the individualized recipes subtly differ, allowing Glimmer to distinguish the maker of each perfume. This strategic move exemplifies her shrewd understanding of alliances – a testament to her ability to simultaneously foster trust and maintain a cautious distance.

In the quiet moments of alliance-building, amidst the rustling leaves and shadows of the night, Glimmer transforms her seemingly trivial talent into a powerful tool for survival. The delicate notes of her signature perfumes become a silent language, weaving a tapestry of alliances and betrayals that only she can decipher. In the relentless pursuit of victory, Glimmer's floral artistry becomes not only an olfactory delight but a nuanced dance of strategy, trust, and deception in the unforgiving arena.

[biqherosix]

ghost protocol - introduction

"the fates whisper to the warrior,

"a ghost is among us""

"and the warrior whispers back,

"i am the ghost""

welcome to the phantom files.

organized by caleb covington.

team one: the petal pushers

your mission; should you choose to accept it, is to prevent the syndicate hidden at the hollywood ghost club from acquiring and selling high tech drugs to civilians. multiple uc's at the club have found that many prominent figures are interested in this drug, including renowned music connoisseurs teaching at los feliz high school. using any means at your disposal, if you or any of your phantom members are caught or killed, the secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions. good luck.

wilson, carrie. the techie

06/10/2003

skills include: trained in various styles of dance so unique one can hardly keep up, flute prodigy, and the technical analyst ready to break down any firewall that comes her way

* affiliated with trevor wilson

saroyan, flynn. the actor

03/23/2003

skills include: a fashion icon with a flare bigger than the ones on your jeans, trumpeter (one who plays the trumpet), and the master of deception

molina, julie. the strategist

12/14/2003

skills include: holding the team together with her singular brain cell numerous mission strategies, musician of many instruments and songs, and the occasional leader / getaway driver

l/n, y/n. the hitman

07/02/2002

skills include: trained in various styles of self defense, violinist with a deadly aim, and ready to fight with anything she’s got

team two: sunset curve

your mission; should you choose to accept it, is to find trevor wilson and his associates. hiding behind his famous record label and music charity, he remains the perfect facade to his money laundering. his last known location has been wandering around san francisco, but sources have revealed he may be coming back to his hometown in los feliz in the upcoming days where a deal may be placed. take him down and extract the money as you go. using any means at your disposal, if you or any of your phantom members are caught or killed, the secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions. good luck.

mercer, alex. the techie

03/06/2002

skills include: amateur dancer with a pop and lock hard enough to knock you out, percussionist with a knack for the classic drum set, and the guy in the chair who occasionally gets out in the field

patterson, luke. the actor

11/12/2002

skills include: ruler of improvised plans, a dangerous guitarist with a passionate gaze so sharp it's classified as lethal, as well as the human art form of flirtation and charm

wilson, bobby. the strategist

12/30/2002

skills include: silent thief in the knick of time, rhythm guitarist ready to rock out on any mission, and the man behind the plans (with several setbacks)

peters, reggie. the hitman

05/16/2002

skills include: professional hide and seeker, bassist with a burning passion for adrenaline rushes, and the one who looks like a cinnamon roll but could kill you (though he’d prefer not to)

this message will self destruct in five seconds.

[lgbtqiahistoricalromance]

LGBTQIA+ Historical Romance Novels w/ Ghosts, Vampires, and Other Gothic Delights!

Graveyard Sparrow by Kayla Bashe (f/f)

Katriona Sparrow, dubbed the Mad Heiress by most of London’s upper class, is the deceptively fragile ward of a foreign nobleman. She can’t stand making small talk with strangers, but she’s unparalleled when it comes to deciphering the dead. On a routine investigation, though, something goes horribly wrong, leaving Katriona catatonic in an upscale hospital and a serial killer with an artistic bent stalking London’s most vulnerable.

Enter Anthea Garlant, a young witch and academic ostracized from polite society for traveling the world without a chaperone.

She devises magical accommodations to protect Katriona from the side effects of her abilities — but as she grows more and more attached to the other woman, her professional façade begins to slip. Will they be able to stop the man who turns beautiful dead women into works of art — the man who is closer to Katriona than anyone suspects?

In The Valley of the Earth by RR Pearl (The Watchers #1) The only thing more dangerous than their chemistry…is their enemies! Mild-mannered Xenoarcheologist Dr. Alec Coimhead and his best friend, Dr. Clemy Armistead, are certain that they have just found the ancient location of an apocryphal battle between demons and angels. Whisked away on a rollicking adventure, Alec finds himself under the watchful eye of Rafe, a taciturn mountain of a man with a mysterious past.

Working with the enigmatic Praesidium, which claims to have protected humanity for generations, Alec clashes with his ethereally handsome bodyguard. As the New Watchers pursue the rambunctious pair across the globe, Alec and Rafe will have to battle ancient terrors and mythical creatures come to life. Racing to the ancient tomb of a fallen angel, Alec and Rafe may lose it all - and each other - to save the world. The Watchers: In The Valleys Of The Earth is the first book in an MM Action Adventure paranormal romance series.

Heart of Stone by Johannes T. Evans

The year is 1764, and following a glowing recommendation from his last employer, Henry Coffey, vampire, takes on a new personal secretary: young Theophilus Essex. The man is quite unlike any secretary - or any man, for that matter - that Henry has ever met. — ‘Heart of Stone’ is a slowly unfolding period romance between a vampire and his inimitably devoted clerk: lushly depicted in flowing, lovingly appended prose, we follow the slow understanding these two men grasp of one another, and the cross of their two worlds into each other’s.

Henry Coffey, immortal and ever-oscillating between periods of delighted focus upon his current passion project, is charming, witty, and seems utterly incapable of closing his mouth for more than a few moments; in contrast, Theophilus Essex is quiet and keenly focused, adopting an ever-flat affect, but as time goes on, he relaxes in his employer’s presence.

Craving resounding intimacy but with an ever aware of the polite boundaries for their situation, Coffey and Essex perform a slow dance as they grow closer to one another, and find themselves entangled.

The Strange Case of the Big Sur Benefactor by Jess Faraday (f/f and m/m)

Billiwack, California, 1884. When translator Rosetta Stein comes across her rival, Bartholomew Vincent, under attack by weird, raven-headed man-beasts behind the infamous Puckered Rosebud Gentleman’s Club, she senses opportunity. She rescues him in exchange for a crack at the commission he stole from under her nosea strangely inscribed artifact found by Big Sur bigwig George Taylor Granville in the Santa Lucia mountains. Misfortune has stalked Vincent from the moment he took on the project, and he’s only too happy to share it. In the meantime, a lady marshal has come to Billiwack, investigating rumors of strange, unlicensed weapons, and she can’t seem to decide if she’d rather kiss Rosetta or arrest her. And Vincent is suffering romantic complications of his own, in the forms of Rosetta’s charming layabout brother, and an amorous professor who won’t take God, no! for an answer.

The Harvest Moon by Joshua Ian (Darkly Enchanted Romance #1)

England, 1834. On the night of a harvest moon, in the shadows of late autumn, Malcolm comes across a quaint village tucked away in the forest. It seems the perfect spot for a weary traveller to lay his head, and maybe find a little company. But there is dark magic afoot, and lots of local gossip swirls around the seductive titian-haired weaver, Daniel. All Malcolm seeks is a night’s pleasure. He never suspected he would have to worry about losing his life. Or his heart.

The Ghost of Hillcomb Hall by Joshua Ian (Darkly Enchanted #2)

England, 1910. Landscape designer Jonas Laurence arrives at the cheerless and fog enswathed Hillcomb Hall, home to the Earl of Stanley and his family, to renovate their crumbling gardens. With a great storm crashing all around, his time is at the mercy of the house’s odd and mysterious occupants. Captivated by the hauntingly attractive portrait of Lord Stanley’s ancestor, which constantly seems to watch and taunt him, Jonas’s dreams become weird and distressing. And his waking moments are consumed by the strange stories and weird atmosphere of the manor estate. Ghostly visits in the night leave Jonas no choice but to accept his attraction to the otherworldly spirit from the painting. But is this affaire de coeur real? Or it all just a trick of the mind, a sinister game being played by the inhabitants of Hillcomb Hall?

Kinship and Kindness (Paranormal Society Romance Book One) by Kara Jorgensen (transmac MC)

Bennett Reynard needs one thing: to speak to the Rougarou about starting a union for shifters in New York City before the delegation arrives. When his dirigible finally lands in Louisiana, he finds the Rougarou is gone and in his stead is his handsome son, Theo, who seems to care for everyone but himself. Hoping he can still petition the Rougarou, Bennett stays only to find he is growing dangerously close to Theo Bisclavret.

Theo Bisclavret thought he had finally come to terms with never being able to take his father’s place as the Rougarou, but with his father stuck in England and a delegation of werewolves arriving in town, Theo’s quiet life is thrown into chaos as he and his sister take over his duties. Assuming his father’s place has salted old wounds, but when a stranger arrives offering to help, Theo knows he can’t say no, even if Mr. Reynard makes him long for things he had sworn off years ago.

As rivals arrive to challenge Theo for power and destroy the life Bennett has built, they know they must face their greatest fears or risk losing all they have fought for. With secrets threatening to topple their worlds, can Theo and Bennett let down their walls before it’s too late?

The Death Under the Dark Arches by Selina Kray (Stoker and Bash #3) Sing a song of sixpence A stage full of fright One two-faced blackbird Won’t last the night

When a phantom presence lures Hieronymus Bash into a deadly game, threatening to kill one of the players at his beloved Gaiety Theater each day until famed actor Horace Beastly returns to the stage, London’s premier consulting detective is on the case. The trouble? Horace Beastly is Hiero’s alter ego and the true object of this murderous obsession. When the current star of the show is struck down, Hiero has to risk everything by stealing back the spotlight.

After a golden summer together, DI Tim Stoker would do everything in his power to protect the man he loves. But a specter from his own past proves an unexpected, and perhaps fatal, distraction.

Scheming prima donnas, grudge-fuelled critics, and an axe-wielding theater ghost are all out for blood. Will Hiero and Tim unmask this menace before the final curtain call, or are they past the point of no return?

Secrets of Milan by Edale Lane (The Night Flyer Trilogy #2) (f/f)

Some secrets are meant to stay hidden.

While Florentina as the Night Flyer searches for a mysterious underworld organization that has attempted to murder the woman she loves, Maddie struggles to deal with the danger Florentina is courting. Her brother, Alessandro, has become the most prominent merchant of Milan, but the Night Flyer uncovers a secret so shocking it could destroy them all.

Secrets of Milan is the second book in Edale Lane’s Night Flyer Trilogy, a tale of power, passion, and payback in Renaissance Italy.

The Gentleman Attraction: a short victorian mm paranormal romance by Connor Peterson

Emerson Mallory never mixes business and pleasure. His eyes might wander but he certainly wouldn’t risk his professional reputation over a tryst. Not even for a silver-haired scoundrel who clearly knows his way around a bedroom and makes his heart race with just one look.

When a flirtatious train ride turns into a weekend in close quarters, Bennet Clarke doesn’t agree that it would be best to leave their attraction at the door. He gave up worrying about human sensibilities the night he became a vampire centuries ago, and right now he wants more than one taste of Emerson’s charm and unnerving ability to see past his cavalier masks.

Their host has a few secrets of their own and a madcap plan that requires Emerson to enlist Bennet’s help. When the inevitable happens, Emerson begins to think that maybe Bennet’s way of looking at things isn’t so bad. Bennet, however, is faced with a dilemma. Keep up the ruse, or confess that Emerson has no idea who he’s gotten involved with.

Amidst the flurry of activity surrounding their host, the two men will have to keep their affair secret, plan a successful party, and decide if forever is too much to ask.

The Faerie Hounds of York by Arden Powell

England, 1810. The north is governed by a single rule. Faerie will take as it pleases.

William Loxley is cursed. A pale and monstrous creature haunts his dreams, luring him from London to the desolate, grey landscape of his forgotten childhood. There, it will use him to open a door to Faerie—a fate that will trap Loxley in that glittering, heathen otherworld forever.

His only hope of escaping the creature’s grasp lies with John Thorncress, a dark and windswept stranger met on the moors. The longer Loxley stays in Thorncress’ company, the harder it becomes to fight his attraction to the man. Such attraction can only end in heartbreak—or the noose.

But Thorncress has his own bleak ties to Faerie. They come creeping in with the frost, their howls carrying on the winter wind. If Thorncress’ past catches up with him before they can break the curse, then Loxley will not only lose his soul. He’ll lose Thorncress, too.

Best Laid Plaids by Ella Stainton (Kilty Pleasures #1) 

Scotland, 1928 Dr. Ainsley Graham is cultivating a reputation as an eccentric. Two years ago, he catastrophically ended his academic career by publicly claiming to talk to ghosts. When Joachim Cockburn, a WWI veteran studying the power of delusional thinking, arrives at his door, Ainsley quickly catalogues him as yet another tiresome Englishman determined to mock his life’s work. But Joachim is tenacious and openhearted, and Ainsley’s intrigued despite himself. He agrees to motor his handsome new friend around to Scotland’s most unmistakable hauntings. If he can convince Joachim, Ainsley might be able to win back his good name and then some. He knows he’s not crazy—he just needs someone else to know it, too.

Joachim is one thesis away from realizing his dream of becoming a psychology professor, and he’s not going to let anyone stop him, not even an enchanting ginger with a penchant for tartan and lewd jokes. But as the two travel across Scotland’s lovely—and definitely, definitely haunted—landscape, Joachim’s resolve starts to melt. And he’s beginning to think that an empty teaching post without the charming Dr. Graham would make a very poor consolation prize indeed…

Where There’s a Kilt, There’s a Way by Ella Stainton (Kilty Pleasures #2)

Sweden, 1930 Two years ago, Dr. Ainsley Graham proved the existence of ghosts, and fell in love–hard to top that. But a trip to Sweden to research at a prestigious University for the summer is nothing to sneeze at, especially since his partner, psychologist Joachim Cockburn, will be teaching alongside him. A change of scenery might be just the thing.

Their idyllic trip to Sweden is interrupted by a ghost with a proclivity for rude hand gestures and graphic curse words–and a ghastly history begging to be investigated. Life among the living is complicated, too, by a gruff professor who can’t take his eyes off Ainsley, and an enticing new job offer for Joachim. What starts as an adventurous trip abroad turns into mayhem, murder, and…a magical moose? And everyone–well, perhaps not the moose–is a suspect in the death of the ghostly young man who brings them

together to expose secrets, loves lost, and a crime that will shock them all. The Harp and the Sea by Lou Sylvre and Anne Barwell (Magic in the Isles #1) In 1605, Robbie Elliot—a Reiver and musician from the Scottish borders—nearly went to the gallows. The Witch of the Hermitage saved him with a ruse, but weeks later, she cursed him to an ethereal existence in the sea. He has seven chances to come alive, come ashore, and find true love. For over a century, Robbie’s been lost to that magic; six times love has failed. When he washes ashore on the Isle of Skye in 1745, he’s arrived at his last chance at love, his last chance at life.

Highland warrior Ian MacDonald came to Skye for loyalty and rebellion. He’s lost once at love, and stands as an outsider in his own clan. When Ian’s uncle and laird sends him to lonely Skye to hide and protect treasure meant for Bonnie Prince Charlie’s coffers, he resigns himself to a solitary life—his only companion the eternal sea. Lonely doldrums transform into romance and mystery when the tide brings beautiful Robbie Elliot and his broken harp ashore.

A curse dogs them, enemies hunt them, and war looms over their lives. Robbie and Ian will fight with love, will, and the sword. But without the help of magic and ancient gods, will it be enough to win them a future together?

Starcrossed by Allie Therin (Magic in Manhattan #2)

When everything they’ve built is threatened, only their bond remains… 1925 New York

Psychometric Rory Brodigan’s life hasn’t been the same since the day he met Arthur Kenzie. Arthur’s continued quest to contain supernatural relics that pose a threat to the world has captured Rory’s imagination—and his heart. But Arthur’s upper-class upbringing still leaves Rory worried that he’ll never measure up, especially when Arthur’s aristocratic ex arrives in New York. For Arthur, there’s only Rory. But keeping the man he’s fallen for safe is another matter altogether. When a group of ruthless paranormals throw the city into chaos, the two men’s strained relationship leaves Rory vulnerable to a monster from Arthur’s past.

With dark forces determined to tear them apart, Rory and Arthur will have to draw on every last bit of magic up their sleeves. And in the end, it’s the connection they’ve formed without magic that will be tested like never before.

Automata by Hayden Thorne (Curiosities #2)

A disastrous incident at a ball in St. Jude threatens to undo Alexej Sauveterre, and his protective adoptive family whisk him off to San Marco, a mythical and romantic city in the water. Born sickly, young Alexej has grown up resigned to the fact that only his family’s immense wealth makes him barely palatable to other gentlemen seeking partners.

The family’s sojourn in San Marco at first promises a much-needed distraction to Alexej when his older brother introduces him to an aristocratic inventor of automata as well as an old school friend who now tours the European continent as a classical pianist. Baseless hope and heartbreak, however, seem to follow Alexej everywhere.

Alexej’s fascination for automata and his hopeless infatuation with Briant Cousineau draw the attention of an entity from the otherworld, one that’s been wandering the globe for unwary souls to claim through cursed wishes. San Marco’s winged lion summons the city’s supernatural guardians in answer, and in the midst of glittering balls, magical clockwork puppets, and lonely dreams, a terrifying fight for Alexej’s soul darkens the streets of a fading city.

Extensive List from 2018 Even more for 2019

[ardenssolis]

@nvrcmplt​ said (inbox):

Zateros twirled with ease, but deadly upon striking out with daggers in her grasp. The curved blades slicing the wind before clashing with the Pharaoh's own weaponry. Pole to gut, sent her flying but with a break of her body twisting backwards, somersaulting before she landed within a solid crouch - she spat into the sand before snickering with a sudden burst of speed once more. Silent from her years of training in the arts of stealth - yet also the release of her bestial desire to chase and lay waste to her prey - she frame came as a golden blur - once more striking out with dual blades - this time however to slash upwards to knock the weaponry skyward so that her body could follow.

A twist of hips, torso following last to use the momentum of striking out with the heel of her foot into the lower ribs of the chosen one. Slamming him from his stance towards one of the many pillars that had been their landing spots since the start of this training session. Allowing herself to twirl with the motion on the spot, she settled back down - crouching low with daggers raises near her shoulders, crossing arms slight over her bosom as her lips remained within a grin of giddiness.

Having the fun of allowing herself to let loose, her lashes fluttered upon the sudden influx of beast in her system - flexing her fingers as claws curved through her nails, her shoulders and back bristled in fur and her curved all the more in subtle change as her toes pushed into the floor with a sweet crack of earth. Ah, maybe a little too excited but it wasn't anything new to him, was it now?

"Come on, Ramses...!! Show me what makes you a God's favourite!"

     THERE WAS NOTHING MORE exciting than sparring with someone who would not hold back. Sekhmet served as an excellent partner from time to time, and but she was a harsh trainer. A fight with her felt as if you were fighting for your life, yet each time you managed to repel her weapon was a moment that should be taken with pride; for most would have been felled by such a blow more often than not. Zateros was not as deadly, although that didn’t mean she was not equally as fierce. Her movements were fast, her strikes holding a deceptive strength behind them – to bear witness to her was to see a most elaborate dance that he was glad to partake with her in this very moment. He grunted as she kicked him back, the air knocked from his lungs from the strength and momentum of it. Back colliding against a nearby pillow, he was quick to regain his composure, blade held tightly as if afraid that it might slip from his grip if he had to make any sudden movements to avoid an attack.

     ❝That was a lucky hit,❞ he replied, huffing slightly and shifting his stance. ❝Do not be too happy with yourself, Zateros. That will not happen again.❞ He should have prepared for that kick, especially since he had seen her move like this before right before striking in a way he least expected it. As she crouched low, her body language so feline in nature, his lips curled into a smirk. Huh, Zateros was feeling quite playful today it seemed. Her nails shifted into claws, sharp and deadly in a way that if they raked across his flesh, it would feel like fire, and for a moment, he could have sworn those pupils had slit into pinprick needles before expanding once more. Ramses could already tell that this fight was going to get that much faster, and as a result, he was going to have to really be on his toes to match his swift opponent. Ah, this was dangerous…

     Just what he liked.

     ❝Be mindful of what you ask for, Zateros.❞ One step, two – he wasted no time as he rushed forward with intent on closing the gap between them with intent on keeping as close to Zateros as he could to cut back on what she could do and put her on the defensive. She had enjoyed being the opposite for too long, and thus, it was time for Ramses to step things up and make it so that she had to work twice as hard as he did. By the end of it all, both would be exhausted, but was that not what they wanted? To be pushed to their very limit? There could be nothing better for two individuals who lived and breathed competition.  

[dailycharacteroption]

Warrior Poet (Samurai Archetype)

 Whether they are nobles seeking grace in all things or just utterly devoted to combat as an art form, you’ve probably encountered the trope of the warrior-poet, a swordsperson that revels in the artistry of combat, and moves with deadly grace.

Typically associated with the elves of Jinin, but found anywhere that the samurai class has spread, these samurai fulfil the honor and duty associated with that position in society, but make room for their own interests as well by blending them with the art of combat. They may very well consider themselves icons for other warriors and samurai to look up to, perfecting their art into a graceful dance.

Indeed, dance and calligraphy are common arts for these warriors to master due to the parallels of moving one’s body to create art, but they also master poetry, flower arrangement, and other courtly arts, not only to prove their value in the noble sector, but also perhaps to bring beauty into this world to negate the ugliness that is inherent to bloodshed.

 While they a certainly capable of wearing armor, these samurai also train themselves in the art of avoiding blows with the practiced grace of a dancer when unarmored.

They also learn a variety of special techniques as they continue to master this path. These include striking with singular, powerful blows, even when attacking while in motion; moving with greater speed when unencumbered; focusing their senses to perceive nearby hidden foes; reacting with uncanny grace against hidden attacks; using deceptive swordplay to open gaps in the defenses of their foes even while moving; stepping and striking when exploiting an opening; and even firing a bow while moving.

Graceful with a blade, these samurai are masters of striking with finesse, and can even do so with certain traditional samurai weaponry, including katanas, naginata, and glaives.

As highly mobile combatants, the extra harm caused to the focus of their challenge only comes into play on the first strike of a particular florish.

However, the damage with their chosen weapons makes up for this by delivering slicing, harmful blows in their own right.

Extremely mobile, these samurai are practiced in striking foes and moving away all in the same motion, eventually dancing between multiple foes to deliver blows.

Between their focus on the spring attack feat line and their various flourish abilities, this archetype certainly rewards you for never holding still in combat. Your general strategy once you start getting this archetype’s abilities is to use spring attack and it’s improved versions to spread your attacks between multiple foes. Beyond that, you could delve into the Improved Feint line to open up foes to other attacks, take up the uncanny dodge flourish to keep yourself from getting ambushed, and so on.

 There is something of a great paradox in the idea of beautiful combat, given the bloody, tragic results. Some warrior poets acknowledge this and take on a melancholic aspect when it comes to their work, but others of a less moral disposition may care not for the harm they cause, reveling in the crimson art they leave behind.

  A devoted sculptor all of his life, Nodoshi Niichi was also a legendary warrior, and his keen understanding of combat posing gave rise to incredibly dynamic statuary. So great was the warrior-poet’s vision that after his death, priests of the Guardian Goddess animated some of his creations as graven guardians, protecting the sites where they are displayed.

 Seeing a would-be emperor who seeks to erase the cultures of dozens of peoples in a campaign of “unity”, the samurai calligrapher Sarazawa joins with a conspiracy to murder this conquerer, though he fears what it will mean for his honor.

 Called the Beetle Samurai by the locals, Kovoren is a lashunta who was long ago stranded on this world. For his part, he has adapted well, learning much from these strange, antennae-less locals. When a new threat falls from the stars, however, he will have to put his deadly battle-dance to the test.

[evoedbd]

Artistic Reflection

Summery:   Both Silvana and her art can inspire Vivienne to reflect on their past. Essentially, a small ramble of events up to season 3.  This was written with the idea of a less clear cut relationship.  It can be viewed as platonic or romantic. **************** There was something captivating about watching Silvana work. Unburdened by the demands of the Poppy, her entire demeanour melted into something... different. The quiet intensity dissolved; a bath bomb in a luxurious tub. Bubbles and colour that floated up to greet rose petals. The bubbliness echoed in relaxed shoulders; sun kissed freckles against Cuban skin. The movements flowed through lithe biceps, rippling through the bristles of the artist’s brush with each stroke. Purpose lingered yet the path danced through rose petals. Gentle, carefree, yet filled with conviction. Each stroke was dedication; the bride walking across the petals thrown by the flower girl. There was a wedding of colours, a union beautiful enough to draw tears, yet a veil concealing the Groom. A destination that was undefined. No expectations. Dark eyes appeared glazed, torn between worlds. They spared only a glance for the real world. Instead, they appeared to gaze into the future. The reality the artist continued to forge with gentle strokes. Gentle. Soft. Beautiful. Was that the world Silvana sought, even after the reality of Crime? Was it that peaceful place that drew such smiles from her? Was it the touch of a fantasy prince that guides the corners of her mouth upwards? That parted her full lips? Or, was it something darker? Was it the viper in the shadows? The effect of poisons leaving the artist completely dazed? Vivienne knew she was poison. She had learned early in life that the world would devour a naive girl. It was a lesson her own father drove home. The nail holding her tragic artwork aloft in the gallery of life. She had learned to play the parts of life that would get her close to her targets. Again, and again. Adopt an illusion. Become the illusion. Shatter the illusion and the hearts bound to it. Vivienne had learned early that the promise of poison was not enough to defend, thus she had taken the next logical step. Metaphor became reality. Whilst one might say a woman’s lips were toxic, Vivienne wove poison into her lipstick. Her serpentine ring bore fangs; fangs which Vivienne also poisoned. Illusion and deception had become the gorgeous red shawl she wrapped around her fine shoulders. Her tight-fitting black dress formed her scales, a seductive pattern to draw her prey closer. Silvana was no exception. Silvana was a little field mouse, a girl with big dreams and romantic ideas. It had been easy to let Nikolai know how desperately Silvana wanted adventure, to guide him to the Cuban girl’s works in that park. The little mouse for Vivienne’s games was perfect. The clay which could be moulded into something far greater than a Viper could ever be. Something who would not poison those she loved. Someone who was worthy of the Gilded Poppy. The loyalty of Vivienne’s chosen family. Truly, Silvana could become the bandage after Vivienne shattered her current illusion. Silvana had dreams. Daydreams, perhaps, but dreams which betrayed desires. Silvana had wanted the beautiful, worldly woman to whisk her away into a life of adventure. Handsome men, priceless jewels and heists. This was an easy role for Vivienne to adopt. Her art was flesh. It was her voice. When to touch, when to resist. How to form every word to draw one’s gaze to her venomous lipstick. Her gallery was opened to Silvana with the cold touch of pearls. Oh, how easily Silvana had been able to spot the fakery of gems, to feel what was brittle in hand. Forgeries which had fooled some of the pickiest buyers did not truly deceive the artist. Even with the distraction of purred seduction, Silvana’s instincts were sharp. The clay was there to be sculptured. Imperfections could be carved away or smoothed down to protect the heart. Silvana was, in essence, perfection. Vivienne’s first masterpiece that would remain when she was long gone. The sculpture had all but formed within the Viper’s coils. An encouraging smile, a friendly hug. Distraction for the hand raiding from her pockets. A wallet. A phone. Anything loose. All returned with the deadly smirk. Luscious lips curled in poisonous invitation. Let her close, then push her away. Keep her stumbling. Heat her to molten, then form. Vivienne needed to hammer away at the girl’s heart. After all, the strongest steel was beaten again and again until the perfection of the blade was sharpened to cut. If Vivienne were to slice her heart out, she wanted the dagger to be dazzling. Yet, her sculpture, the little mouse she was twisting seemed immune to her poison. Even as the mouse leapt into trap after trap, Vivienne neglected to strike time and time again. Dry bite after dry bite. Pain without purpose; or rather, pain that sculptured a line Vivienne had not intended. Silvana may have been clay, yet she stuck beneath Vivienne’s scales. Dark eyes still offered refuge from the harsh world, gleaming with the mirage of paradise. Her smile still held genuine joy, the comfort of a hug or hot coca on a winter’s night. What many began to wonder was how such a smile might taste. Would it be as sweet as chocolate? Would it possess her mentor’s poison? Could the crispness of her white teeth against caramel skin ever grow into the fangs of a Viper? No. Not even the Viper could will herself to completely destroy the mouse. Silvana was something otherworldly. Someone who danced between worlds in a way Vivienne had never seen before. The creator of worlds of colour was not bound to the world of men; not entirely. Somehow, she existed where others could not. The rules did not apply to her, not in any way Vivienne could structure before Silvana was inside the walls. As Silvana’s strokes painted the newest history for the Poppy, she too began to paint Vivienne. That had to be it. What else could have shown Vivienne everything she despised of herself? Could turn those tricks and calculation into stumbling outrage every time a mark threatened the mouse? What else could explain the near obsession to protect? Silvana worked with the physical. She created pieces that lingered in one’s heart. Something that could be touched. Brushstrokes against the canvas which could be followed. A forest to become lost in. Vivienne was the elements. The wind whispering. Seducing. Playing the mind until the body followed every suggestion. Together, they created heists that left the world reeling. They created chemistry so intoxicating that even the knowing scientist added too much heat. For the beauty of the moment, even the scientist would allow himself to be consumed within the flames. It was only amidst the ashes one could see the only flame was the one the scientist lit. That the Viper and Mouse had created something so tangible that science could not define reality. Slowly, Silvana’s gentle innocence became needle sharp. A seductive line or touch was not enough to distract. Their game was theft, yet the artist began to explore further. For once, the mouse Vivienne hunted was a match for her. Or perhaps mouse knew it was no match and did not attempt to win. Suggestion was communication. Vivienne used the only suggestion she knew; the offer of love. Of romance. Of fantasy. Silvana countered with reality. Friendship. Family. Love. Four letters combined to disarm the Viper entirely. As she violently fought those four letters, the other fifteen slid beneath her scales. It wasn’t enough for Silvana to merely know she was family. She wanted the keys. To know everything about her family. Including Vivienne. Stroke after stroke began to define the blurred shadows of Vivienne’s identity, from her heartache to her cowardice. As the layers of colour were built, Vivienne’s schemes were laid bare. No longer was she family, the mentor. She was the one to be replaced. She hadn’t looked to Silvana as a new piece, rather the piece to replace her. Never had Vivienne ever truly considered what that would mean to the artist. Not until confronted. Gifted with colour Silvana may be, but her words held no such gentle weaving. The Cuban girl pushed, pushed and pushed. Just as she could gently create a reality, she could take a hammer to destroy an illusion. Doe eyed she may be, but Silvana was destruction incarnate to an indifferent heart. Implosion. Their perfect harmony shattered. Vivienne, a creature of habit, fled. Yet, even fleeing, she longed for one more taste of chocolate... enough to abandon her rules once more. To parlay. “Lately, every time I try to tell you something important it feels like you beat me to the emotional punch.” Vivienne’s first confession. How could she have spoken when every word was met with another test? Another push? Another accusation? None undeserved, naturally, but why did the mouse seem so shocked when poison finally rushed through her veins? “You’re enough to give me an aneurysm!” Silvana’s assessment of Vivienne’s games. Delivered so lightly. Something that should have broken a heart somehow embraced it, earning the gentle chuckle and response. “It’s what I do best.” It was true. Vivienne had forged herself in layers. A katana. Steel folded so many times it became sharp and fine. A work of art to destroy as much as entice. If she kept people on the edge of her blade, then she would never again be the one cut. She was silk between one’s fingers. Soft and smooth, yet so very slippery. So many had tried to hold her, so many had failed. Silvana did not hold with fingers. She drove her claws in deep. For that silk to be freed, it had to be torn by Silvana’s claws. For Vivienne to flee her family, she had to accept pain beyond measure. She had to destroy herself, not an illusion. Silvana knew this and acted without even a trace of remorse. That was precisely the passion which had been drawn to the surface. The ferocity Vivienne had craved to enhance. Within those claws, Vivienne finally found herself the mouse. The master finally outplayed by the student. “I’m running. But I don’t want to. Every self-preservation instinct tells me I HAVE to. But I don’t want to, no more than I wish to slice out my own heart. Please tell me I don’t have to.” The confession had been torn from Vivienne within Silvana’s claws. Layers unfolded so the heart laid bare, if only for a second. Art was something that spoke to the heart. It inspired emotion. It tore layers aside to capture a perfect moment of vulnerability. An artist understood this better than any. She treasured it, embracing that moment and turning it into something full of power. Silvana was nothing if not an artist. Vulnerability became the next masterpiece, staining the high society of Italy as the Poppy left with more than merely priceless artifacts. Silvana was one of them. Another petal. She was inexplicably different from the others, yet still connected at the roots. Her claws kept Vivienne from slipping away, kept her grounded. The Poppy not only remained whole; it grew.

[pkmnsdarkqueen]

ANIMAL SUBSTYLES - RARE KUNG FU STYLES

So I’ve said before that when Karen’s unusual fighting style she can whip out which usually confuses opponents is when she’ll start to fight on all fours or mimic animal movements.

I finally found a complete list of these fighting style and how they operate so I bolded the various elements of each style Karen has down. Also going to put the styles she’s mastered above the cut. 

*****IMPERIAL LEOPARD KUNG FU 豹式​功夫​​

Imperial Leopard is fierce, fast, cunning, and deceptive. As a master of feigns and deception Leopard often goes unnoticed and underestimated until they unexpectedly unleash years of combat training and vital point attacks with fast and highly toughened hand and body weapons. Leopard is a master of ambush and hit-and-run guerrilla style combat tactics. The Leopard Kung Fu Hand Weapons are legendary and kill with one strike to the throat.

*****CANTON DOG 广州狗​式​功夫​

Canton Dog is a ferocious street, and ground fighting style, with an evil reputation. Eye gouging, groin attacks, finger breaking, throat attacks, leg breaks, and even tearing off lips and ears are signature wounds from one quick Dog attack. This style, like all the animals arts, is savage and brutal for real combat. These aren't just self defense moves, but toughened and powerful attacks.

*****IMPERIAL PHOENIX 凤​​式​功夫​

​Phoenix is found in most Leopard Kung Fu if only a hand weapon and few strikes. The legends of this bird date back at least 8000 years, and modern sources claim that the mythical Phoenix has its roots in a prehistoric bird that lived in China. Phoenix Kung Fu, a complex martial art in its own right, gives bird-like energies to Leopard with the highly toughened knuckle strikes of the Phoenix-Eye.

*****GOLDEN LEOPARD (Her and Will) 金色​​豹式​功夫​

Golden Leopard is a unique and challenging martial art with two Leopard practitioners fighting together as one entity. This art is more intimate and complex that dance mastery with full speed combat decisions communicated through movement, growling, and guttural code. Golden Leopards draw weapons from each other, attack in unison, throw, push, pull each other, and train high levels of group fighting tactics.

*****IMPERIAL PANTHER KUNG FU 黑豹式​功夫​​

Imperial Panther is a hunter-killer with equal parts power and stealth. Imperial Panther Masters execute full speed forms, even diving and rolling, in almost complete silence. In addition to stealth Panther is intense and ferocious with powerful growls, highly toughened hands, and throat crushing grips. Panther Style trains body collision take-downs with flesh grips that spin opponents down into ground positions, chin na, and joint destruction.

*****NORTHERN WOLF 北狼式​功夫​

Northern Wolf is a deadly and fearsome fighting style from the streets of Shanghai. This rare style taught at Imperial Combat Arts specializes in group fighting tactics, low realm combat, and ground-fighting. Wolf is a vicious art with high level gripping, ripping and tearing techniques that can kill with the hand. Wolf is heavier but somewhat similar in nature to the ferocious style of Dog.

*****RED SCORPION ​红​蝎​​式​功夫​

Red Scorpion is a Scorpion Sub-style that is designed to fight much larger opponents where grip and striking strength may be outmatched. Red Scorpion specializes in faster flurries of movement, combinations, kicking, leaping, and evasion with moments of intense striking focus to the most vulnerable areas. Where the Black Scorpion trains extensive grappling and Chin Na, Red Scorpion trains anti-grappling and evasion.

*****BLACK SCORPION ​黑蝎​​式​功夫​

Black Scorpion is a massive martial art that has highly toughened gripping Chin Na, devastating strikes, strike captures, kicking and throws as well a a vast grappling and ground-fighting system made up of numerous sub-styles. Black Scorpion Ground-fighting System teaches high levels of Terrain Fighting, climbing, in water, hillsides, tight spaces, obstacles etc. and its training is more difficult that a military obstacle course.

*****SALAMANDER ​火蜥蜴式​功夫​​

Salamander is a fighting style that fights and moves in a squat position with rolling, leaping, kicks, reaps, and sweeps with toughened legs as well as grips and strikes. Salamander shows up in all combat fighting including weapons and firearms, and trains students how to dynamically fight and move in a low squat position. This real is needed for all types of real combat circumstances.

****GOLDEN RAT 金色大鼠​功夫​​​

Rat Kung Fu trains strong biting grips with two fingers and the thumb, pinches that remove areas of flesh, knuckle strikes to vital points, and extensive kicking. Rat is quite painful to learn, like all the Imperial Animal Styles.

*****SPIDER 蛛式​功夫​

Spider, one of three rare styles taught in, is a sub-style that specializes in rope fighting, entrapment, strangulation, captures, and entanglement vs multiple opponents. Spider is a master of soft weapons, gripping, striking, throws, and chin na. Spider trains the combat applications of rope for use in man-traps, prisoner restraints, hunting, and climbing/rappelling.

*****IMPERIAL VIPER 红黄颔蛇式​功夫​​

Viper is a high-speed combat style that trains primarily striking and kicking. Viper specializes in toughened knuckle strikes, counter grappling, and fighting larger opponents. Viper style uses complex and ever-changing patterns that have great success in confusing and controlling opponents. Imperial Viper toughens both hands and legs to weaponize the body for combat.

WILD BOAR KUNG FU 野猪式​功夫​​​

Boar is an aggressive berserker style of fighting that toughens lethal thumbs and knuckles, and specializes in head-butts, elbows, knees, kicking and full body collisions. This fighting style toughens the entire body to ram through strikes, minimizing their own damage and in exchange landing killing strikes. Boars grunting growls, sheer animal rage, and willingness to exchange blows make it a force that invokes fear on the battlefield.

IMPERIAL EAGLE CLAW KUNG FU 鹰爪翻子拳​​

Eagle Claw is a lethal combat art created by General Yue Fei in the 1100's for his elite combat units. This highly effective martial art was still being trained by elite guard in the Ch'ing Dynasty, and has been used in wars for almost 1000 years. Like General Yue Fei and his elite warriors, Imperial Eagle Claw is for powerful highly trained warriors capable of perfecting 100's of Chin Na techniques used in combat with striking and melee weapons.

IMPERIAL HAWK 鹯式​功夫​​

Imperial Hawk is an Eagle Claw Substyle for medium build fighters that use more body weight in their Chin Na and, falling, leaping, and ground-fighting in their techniques. If Eagle Claw is half Tiger/Crane in Taoist energies then Hawk is half Panther/Crane. Imperial Hawk also contains the stealth and ambushing tactics of Panther training even leaping, rolling, falling, and killing in total silence. 

IMPERIAL FALCON 隼​​式​功夫​

Imperial Falcon is an Eagle Claw substyle for small fighters that use more striking/kicking, and not as much Eagle Claw Chin Na. If Eagle Claw is half Tiger/Crane in Taoist energies, then Falcon is half Leopard/Crane. Falcon trains the complex patterns of controls and striking used in Leopard and many prefer to master the ground art of Cantonese Dog over the Black Scorpion.

IMPERIAL CRANE KUNG FU 鹤式​功夫​

Crane is a legendary Chinese martial art as renowned for its grace, agility, and balance as it is for its powerful highly toughened angular strikes. Crane masters train extensive kicking, leg controls, maneuvers and lower body toughening. Masters of this fighting style will routinely demonstrate standing on one leg, evading multiple strikes while simultaneously countering with fingertip strikes breaking three or more inches of solid wood.

BLACK CRANE 黑鹤式​功夫​​

Imperial Black Crane is a powerful substyle that incorporates both Mantis and Snake techniques. Black Crane Style moves its arms like Snake using the similar serpentine form of the Cranes Neck and a unique highly toughened beak weapon for strikes. This rare martial art that blends Crane with Snake and Mantis also uses the quick arm captures and strikes of Mantis with its neck and beak.

GREY HERON 苍鹭式​功夫​

Grey Heron is a Sustyle of Imperial Crane that fights exclusively with their legs. By training and matching to control, negate, or counter an opponents techniques with the legs alone, Heron adds a tremendous value to Imperial Crane. Many of 167 kicks trained in Imperial Crane are contained in this complex and formidable sub-style. Extensive leg toughening is required to learn this style.

GREEN HERON 绿鹭式​功夫​

Green Heron Kung Fu is a unique sub-style of Crane taught at Imperial Combat Arts. This Crane style is for small, short framed practitioners and uses tighter, quicker strikes, often in combinations, as well as leaping to engage larger opponents. Green Heron is fashioned after small Herons in Asia like the Striated Heron. Imperial Combat Arts has several arts designed for small people.

IMPERIAL LION 狮​​式​功夫​​

​In addition to being a powerful combat Style, Lion was also the symbol of the 1st and 2nd class military ranks in Imperial China for over 500 years 1391C.E. to 1911C.E. Lion is a tremendously powerful and effective fighting style both standing and on the ground, and fights with highly toughening grips, claw and fist weapons that can tear out, or crush the throat of a man in seconds. 

IMPERIAL SNAKE KUNG FU 蛇式​功夫​

Snake style fighting is legendary for its blinding speed and incredible accuracy in combat. Unlike most snake martial arts Imperial Snake consists of five unique fighting styles each considered a complete martial art with their own master level toughening and training. One of the five is Python a massive system of powerful palm strikes, combat grappling, chokes, strangles, joint attacks, and throws. Also Cobra, Adder, Viper, and Asp.

IMPERIAL PYTHON 白​​蟒式​功夫​

Python is a high level combat art that masters powerful palm strikes, highly toughened fingers, powerful kicks, and a massive system of grappling, chokes, strangles, joint attacks, and throws. Several masters taught Jujitsu before joining Imperial Combat Arts and training Python for combat with its toughened fingers, throat crushing grips, lethal tail strikes, and the deadly grappling.

IMPERIAL COBRA 黑​眼镜蛇式​功夫​

Cobra is a lesser know style that masters long range strikes, powerful whipping backhands, toughened fang weapons, and hard heavy throws. Cobra is also a master of standing Chin Na with primary focus on Chin Na throws, joint destruction, and quick arm breaks. Cobra Masters routinely demonstrate breaking boards and bricks with just the two fingers of the Cobra's Fangs.

IMPERIAL ADDER 绿毒蛇式​功夫​

Adder is a devastating art that specializes in toughened knuckle and finger strikes, Chin Na, ripping & gouging, as well as painful and powerful grips that crush the throat. Adder Masters are at home fighting on their feet or the ground and use strikes, grips, and Chin Na for twisting bring-downs and take-downs. Adder has numerous nerve attacks, and is a master of afflicting pain.

IMPERIAL ASP 蓝蝮蛇式​功夫​​

Asp is designed after small but deadly snakes such as the Mamba. This extremely fast-moving art specializes in fast fingertip strikes and powerful blade hands. Asp Masters are experts of high speed bobbing, weaving, and evasive maneuvers to get into striking range and spend many hours training to evade and counter the high level Chin Na and Grappling of our other Animal Styles.

TIBETAN GHOST BAT ​鬼蝠​式​功夫

The Ghost Bat is a very rare and little known style that is trained as part of the Three Forces martial arts. Ghost Bat is a circular running style somewhat similar to Pakua, but with focus on stealth and evasion. Running is an important part of training for real combat when maneuvering over large areas or through multiple opponents. This concept is no different then that of the fast stealthy maneuvers of small military units.

IMPERIAL TIGER KUNG FU 虎式功夫​

Tiger is a powerful and aggressive martial art that requires years of finger, arm, and whole body toughening to master. Tiger masters can power through the strongest defenses, killing with a single strike or grip, and can tear out the throat of an opponent. Tiger training is extremely challenging and requires the highest level of human willpower to master.

​With our direct military lineage Imperial Tiger is rooted in 5 different Tiger Styles.

NORTHERN TIGER 北虎功夫​

Northern Tiger is the most physically powerful Tiger Style as the Northern Chinese people, Manchurians, and Mongolians are larger and stronger than the Southern Chinese People. Northern Tiger masters can power through the strongest defenses, killing with a single strike or grip, and can tear out the throat of an opponent, our Masters today demonstrate this ability on pig cadavers as part of Tiger training.

SHANGHAI TIGER 上海​​虎功夫​

Shanghai Tiger is a more intelligent interpretation of Tiger with training and development put into each individual digit of the hand for single finger and thumb strikes to vital points as well as gripping and chin na not found in our other Tiger styles. Shanghai Tiger is favored by medium-weight masters and master who move into Tiger after training Animal Styles with intricate finger gripping.

SOUTHERN TIGER 南虎功夫​​

Southern Tiger is the fastest a lightest Tiger style, and while Southern Tiger practitioners may have smaller builds they still develop all the intensity and intimidation of the larger styles. While they may not be able to tear the throat from their opponents and animal cadavers, they're required to crush throats within their Tigers Mouth grip in order to carry the title of Imperial Tiger Master.

BLACK TIGER 黑​虎功夫​

Black Tiger trains to the highest levels all of the stealth, ambush, and guerrilla tactics of true combat level Tiger. When many people think of Animal Styles they see them as done by a performer in a silk costume and don't realize that the true killing styles were real world martial arts that trained all the techniques of the animals they emulate like camouflage, stalking, and ambush.

WHITE TIGER 白​​虎功夫​

Imperial White Tiger is most noted for its extensive matching with one arm and in legend was incorporated into our arts as a sub-style for combat amputees. White Tiger has since become an important part of mastering Imperial Tiger and trains to match all the other animals styles with one highly toughened arm at a time. Not to be confused with other White Tiger Styles. 

IMPERIAL BEAR 熊式​功夫​

Bear is a rare style that like several of the Animal Substyles is close to extinct. Bear is very much alive at Imperial Combat Arts and taught as a substyle of Tiger. Bear is a powerful style that incorporates the toughening, strikes, claws, ripping, and throat crushing grips of Tiger into chin na, wrestling, and grappling. Bear was the 5th class officer rank in China for over 500 years.

IMPERIAL RHINO 犀式​功夫​

​Rhinoceros is not an animal people usually think of when it comes to Chinese Martial Arts. In actuality Rhino (Unicorn) is a tremendously powerful and effective fighting style, and was the 8th class military rank in China from 1391C.E. to 1911C.E. This martial arts hand weapons look  like the horns of the Rhino and show up in several arts, usually arts associated with Tiger such as Pai Mei. 

IMPERIAL BULL 牛式​功夫​

Bull was a popular military martial art in China often trained by 8th & 9th ranking officers. Bull masters toughen knuckle and fist strikes, ramming elbows, and full body collisions. Bull adds some of the most powerful fist and knuckle strikes into Tigers already powerful style. In legend Bull Masters are said to be able to knock a horse and its rider to the ground with their powerful collisions. 

IMPERIAL PRAYING MANTIS 螳式​功夫​​

Mantis is an art renowned for its speed and accuracy. This legendary art specializes in capturing opponents strikes and counter-striking with single or two-fingered strikes to vital points. Years of finger toughening and speed training are required to master this style. Imperial Mantis Masters demonstrate the true power of Mantis with one fingered strikes into melons, and destroy animal eyeballs held in moving dummies.

CRAB ​蟹式​功夫​​

Crab is the first complete ground style students learn at Imperial Combat Arts. Crab is a powerful and dynamic ground position used to fight standing opponents with focus on evasion vs strikes and weapons, anti-grappling, powerful kicks, reaps, sweeps, and throws. With level IV leg toughening Crab becomes a devastating ground-fighting art that specializes in breaking legs.

MANTA RAY ​蝠鲼式​功夫​​

Manta Ray specializes in rolling, evasion, and counter chin na against arresting controls on the ground. This rare style has high percentage and unusual ground escapes vs grappling holds. Master level Manta Ray will also perform rolling chin na escapes into counters from standing, often breaking an opponents arm in the process. This style has the ability to counter throw while being thrown.

STING RAY 𫚉鱼式​功夫​​

Sting Ray is another Supine ground posture that trains students how to fight and maneuver dynamically on steep grade hillsides and slopes without tumbling. This is a good example of how the Imperial Eight Animals train for real world combat in all types of terrain. Combat training and knowing how to use your environment is a crucial part of fighting multiple armed opponent in any situation. 

MORAY EEL ​鳗式​功夫​​

Moray Eel is a fighting style that fights and moves on its back and uses powerful grips and Chin Na to escape, negate, or kill its grappling opponents. Moray Eel shows up in all weapon fighting including firearms, and trains students how to dynamically fight and move in a Supine position for all types of real combat circumstances. Eel is descriptive of how fighters look when they move quickly while Supine.

GOLDEN DRAGON ​金龙式​功夫​​

Golden Dragon is a prone combat posture similar to a military crawl. This crucial combat position is trained the world about today and in most of the ancient world. Yue Fei the legendary Imperial General 1103-1142 the creator of our arts H'sing-i (Xsingyi) and Eagle Kung Fu, would have his elite forces crawl through ditches and fortifications in this posture wearing full armor and gear.

ALLIGATOR ​鳄式​功夫​​

Alligator is a fast moving and powerful prone fighting system that uses full body rolls with its gripping, and chin na. Similar in likeness to a true Alligator Death Roll, these techniques are designed to us the rolling power of the whole body to break limbs and tear flesh, high level Alligator can crush or tear out the throat with its hand alone. Rolls that choke and strangle are trained in Python

LIZARD ​蜥蜴式​功夫​​

Lizard is a very fast ground posture that runs very low on the hands and toes, as well as extensive fast training in climbing, and hanging. Lizard its trained on the floor, the walls, and the ceiling. Lizard fights with kicks, and spear hand strikes. The strength Lizard masters to hang its whole weight with just the fingers of one hand, it uses for ripping, tearing, and brutal gripping.

TURTLE ​龟式​功夫​​

Tortoise, Terrapin, and Turtle are ground and kneeling postures used in grappling, as well as throws, rolls, and take-downs. Seemingly innocently named these arts use brutal grips, beak like weapons, and fingertip strikes to gain access to vital point or assist in chin na. This posture appears similar to the classic wrestling position by the same name, but with vicious weapons and techniques for combat.

SQUID & OCTOPUS ​鱿鱼​式​功夫​

Squid and Octopus are postures that fight primarily on their back and master all types of grappling, entanglement, strangulation, with the arms and legs all working together. This style also uses its highly toughened hands for beak like strikes, ripping, gouging, and fingertip weapons fashioned after the ancient Cephalopods, beak, barbed tongue, and tooth cover papilla, that can crack any opponents shell.

FROG & TOAD 蟆式​功夫​​

Frog & Toad fighting styles master powerful bone breaking kicks, leaping collisions, take-downs, throws, fast spear hand strikes, and ripping, raking, stabbing grips with the hands. The powerful toughened legs of Frog are also used for reaps, and sweeps that hook, pull, and capture. Frog uses specialized swimming style blocks with the arms and hands that capture strikes or open them up for vital point strikes.

CENTIPEDE ​蜈式​功夫​​

Centipede is an art of a hundred kicks from the ground, not an exact number but in how fast these combinations and flurries are thrown. Centipede use the highly toughened feet and legs already trained in the Main Animal Styles to break the lower legs, knees, feet, or attack the groin. The sheer pain, speed, and intensity of this style has sent trained fighters running or climbing up the walls to escape.

SHARK & BARRACUDA ​鲨式​功夫​

Shark and Barracuda are grappling positions that use powerful upper body enveloping and painful gripping to hold and control opponents and gain vital points. Whether standing or on the ground these styles use deep stances, dropping, running, and leg strength with a powerful thrashing energy to counter, control, and subdue and opponents counters and death throes. 

[shoutascoffeepot]

Chapter Two: Strawberries, Cherries, and Everything Sweet

The Art of Deception: The Deadly Dance - Series

Pairing: Aizawa Shouta x Female Original Character

Themes: Mafia, psychological, age gap, cultural differences.

!!!Trigger Warnings!!!: Age gap, sexual implications, gun usage, deep talk, kidapping, controlling, smoking, drugs.

“So, Shouta, you’ve kidnapped a woman because you liked how ‘catty’ she was?” Hizashi repeated with a smirk after he heard the rumors. The tired long haired man only puffs out of his cigar, smoke engulfing his sharp features. 

“Precisely. And my intentions aren’t--”

“Aren’t what? We’re in the mafia, we are the bad guys in any story.” Hizashi interrupted with a snicker of disbelief. 

“My intentions aren’t to use her.” Shouta finished his sentence unfazed. 

When Lilith woke up in a freezing room, hair in a mess and in a bed harder than what she’s used to. She only thought she was in her apartment. She hasn’t processed what happened until a maid woke her at ten sharp with knocking before she entered the room Lilith was laid in. The room had coal walls and white decor on the ceiling, gold antiques and coincidentally, all her things seemed to be around this strange room. 

Her throat cramped in dread, memories recollecting briefly as her eyes set on the strange servant again, jaw clenched. 

“Ojou-Sama, you are called for brunch with Eraserhead-Sama.” She bowed at Lilith, her light brown hair -dyed- was tucked into a neat bun. 

“O-Okay…?” Lilith asked, still confused. 

“I shall escort you in an hour's time, he has brought for you clothing options,” Another woman dressed like her came in with a roller rack, this one was a blonde with outgrown roots, “you could choose from.” 

The blonde set up the stopper on the wheels with her toe then hurried next to the brunette, whispering something in her ear, to which the brunette nodded. 

“Ojou-Sama, do you have any preferences for brunch? Or allergies?”

Lilith was sat up now, on the verge of panicking, she was kidnapped the first night she had in Japan, fucked up right away. 

“I have a walnut allergy.. I would like..” Her mind clouded with too many things as she trailed off to the sound of scribbling of the blonde on the note. 

Lilith scratched her head, her best option was to obey and not fight with this dangerous guy. He has a gun. A lot of men with guns.

“An egg sandwich with ketchup.” She sighed. The blonde and brunette looked at each other, questioning the weird tastes of the foreigner. 

She got up, going to what she assumed was the bathroom, all her stuff was there, they must’ve brought her stuff while she slept. How come they didn’t wake her? She was quite the light sleeper. 

It’s sort of her fault, she thought, she should’ve not tried being cool by sneaking in to only get a closer look at the man. Especially since they looked shady, curiosity killed the cat, and the adrenaline carried her here. 

After showering, washing her face, doing her skincare, drying her hair, she put on some concealer and mascara, she also found her colored lenses, put in the tan ones. Then she just put Clarins lip oil in cherry. One last look at the mirror before looking at the dresses, yeah, that looks appropriate for brunch. 

Exiting the luxe bathroom to her main room again, she skimmed through the options of clothes. They were all dresses. Did he plan on doing something? One was a tight white dress with scrunchy poofs on the off shoulder. The Second was an ugly orange pattern dress with noodle straps. The third was a pink tight dress with long airy sleeves. The last seemed most tolerable if it weren't for how tight and short. 

She wore the pink one, perfuming herself and flipping her fluffy black hair back to look at herself before the brunette woman came by again. “Are you ready?”

“Do you have nude stockings?” She questioned. 

Shouta waited impatiently by the gardens in a little terrace that had flowers decorated to look ‘grown’ onto the pillars. His creme button up had the first three buttons undone, and his ebony hair pulled back to a messy bun, his hair was also fresh, unlike last night, gelled back to hide the fact he hadn’t washed it. 

He was getting impatient, tapping his feet but soon enough his captive came. His eyes shot to Lilith’s form, she chose the pink dress huh? Fuck; it hugged her all in the right places, he eyed her walking over and taking a seat across him. 

“Good morning.” Her voice soft as she settled down. 

“Good morning to you..?” He questioned. “Your name?”

“Lilith.”

“Shouta Aizawa.”

It surprised him, she’s so tame after putting up such a fight last night? He glanced over her plate, isn’t that an egg sandwich? Is that ketchup inside? He furrowed his brows. 

“Lilith, who eats egg and ketchup?” He asked unamused while biting his own egg roll, her face once composed and angelic now scrunched as she bites into the sandwich. Unhinged. Almost making him choke on his food. 

“What?” She scolded, squinting as he coughed, he glanced at her again, ketchup on her nose and the corner of her mouth. Her glossed lips no more. 

“I’m making this easier for both of us so don’t expect me to fake anything, I can be whatever I want and right now I’m hungry. And this egg sandwich is gonna be messy.” She argued. 

He chuckled, amused, what a strange one she was, was she being obedient or is this an act? He couldn’t tell. Yet he kept pondering as he had his coffee, black with nothing in it. When he raised his gaze again after a good sip she had finished her sandwich, wiping her face with the napkin.

“Fast..” He commented. 

“Am I fast or are you slow?” She got her fork and reached out for the fruit platter, stabbing the strawberry, she couldn’t tell they were fruit kebabs and she broke the strawberry. 

“Are you blind?” He asked, not knowing if he’s amused or irritated. 

“In fact I am, I have minus three vision and I don’t wear my glasses because I look like a nerd in them and lenses aren’t comfortable.” She explained. 

He grabbed a fruit kebab, standing up and pulling his chair next to her, and sat down again. She reached out to grab the fruit kebab but he held her wrist. 

“You’re blind.” He stated then offered the skewer to her mouth, she opened up and bit on the strawberry. She then proceeded to rip it off the skewer and eat it whole. 

“It’s sweet.” She commented, slightly surprised. 

“Are the strawberries you’ve had not sweet?” He debated. 

“I’ve always had bland or rotten strawberries, but I love them nonetheless.” She responded. 

“If I had a rotten or bland fruit, I might just quit eating it.” 

“But then you’d miss out on the good ones. In a pack there might be one of the sweetest ones between rotten ones.” 

“It’s a waste.” 

“It’s a chance I’m willing to take.” 

Are we still talking about strawberries? 

“Interesting.” He reached for his coffee, chugging half of it. 

She got her lip oil and reapplied it. He watched intently as the applicator swiped on her pink lips, glossing them red. Lilith noticed him staring and gave him the applicator. 

He sniffed it. 

Smells like cherry candy. 

“Did you just sniff it?!” She wheezed. 

“What am I supposed to do with it?!” He complained. 

“I don’t know! But you looked weird!” She laughed. 

He had a soft smile, he could get used to this strange one. She eventually calmed down and that's when he dropped his smile, poker-faced again. 

“So, weird dangerous man who brought me here against my will…” She started. 

“What do you want from me?” She continued, boring her doll eyes at him. 

He clenched his jaw, clicking his tongue. “Well, you’re the one who came to me, what do you want?” He countered. 

“I would like to leave.”

“Not happening, anything else?”

“I need to attend my college.” 

“Maybe I’ll think about it.” 

“Where is my phone?” 

“Not with me.” 

“Where is it?” 

“You didn’t have it.”

“Is my friend safe?” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay….” She thought deeply of more questions to annoy him with. Meanwhile he brought out a pack of marlboro and lit one cig up, breathing deep and letting the smoke out from his nose. 

“My turn,” Shouta spoke, leaning his head back. “Why did you come to me?” 

“I know the answer, I thought you were attractive. Bingo.” She had a victorious smile, making her captor chuckle. 

“Then like a good girl, you’ll deal with the consequences of your actions.” He gazed down on her. 

“What if I don’t want to?” Her once doll curious eyes turned to siren, challenging ones. 

He stood up, tipping her chair back with his dress shoe, holding the back with one hand as she gasped, helplessly looking at him. His free hand with the cigarette, taking a smoke. “You’ll do what I tell you to.” He blew smoke on her face, she breathed heavily.

Why does she disappoint herself like this?

“Cat’s got your tongue?” He smirked. 

She shook her head lightly, to let her bangs fall out of the way of her face. Flushing lightly as she gathered an answer. 

“I don’t do favors. You’ll have to earn my trust. And that, my fine sir, is mission impossible.” 

“I like me a challenge. If I wanted someone easy I could’ve just hired someone.” He smoked again and she braced herself; anticipating him blowing on her face again, staring at the cig as it left his lips again. 

Such a disappointment, he breathed through his nose and propped her chair back with a thud. 

“So I am a captive here?” Lilith looked at the man with shame that she held for herself. 

“More of a guest if I do say so myself.” He lightly knitted his brows, how could someone change moods so fast? 

The air they breathed now seems to be the density of honey. Her heart pounded, what was this bluff she’s playing? Until when is she going to be here? 

He noticed it, pressing the remains of the cig on her plate to put it out. “Come with me.”  He held out his hand. 

She took it, and only then did he notice how much she’s shaking. Not much of a tough shell was she? 

Strolling out of the terrace on the cobblestones the garden’s aesthetic began to slowly switch the farther they went. From European sweetness to a measured, dynamic traditional Japanese garden with Shishi-Odoshi and little rivers that seemed clearer than the sun of her hometown now that she thought of it. 

“Now Lilith, I sure do have a question.” Shouta spoke as they reached a gun practice point with hay targets. He got his pistol out, attached a silencer then handed it over to her. 

Shit. 

She thought. 

She looked at him, not taking the pistol. 

“Why don’t you kill me?” He asked, taking her hand and giving her the pistol. “Push this part to load the gun.”  He explained as the empty bullet fell with a clink. 

“Now that it’s loaded–” He pulled her close, gun to his chest and her face aghast. 

“I don’t want to.” She breathed heavily, fighting against his grip as she felt her pulse in her head; she was so scared. 

He laughed and pressed over her finger, on the trigger with the clink of the empty bullet.

She felt the bullet be shot as he jerked back with the force before she screamed at him. “NO–” 

“And that’s why, you wear your vests.”  He let go of her and she noticed that there was no blood. 

“Now, if it was another man, that would be a problem. You should be able to protect yourself if anything I wasn’t there.”  He stepped closer again. 

She squinted at him, pistol still in her hand.  “Right, what makes you so sure I wouldn’t catch you off guard and kill you?” Swinging at him with the weapon. 

“Didn’t you sort of show how much you wouldn’t like that?” He chuckled, standing behind her and making her hold the pistol properly, aiming at the target of hay. 

“Keep your posture straight, arms should both be arrows to where the force of the bullet is going, and depending on how far the target, you raise the tip of the gun a milli higher” He instructed, one hand on her arm and the other her wrist. 

His first hand wandered down, straightening her posture by her side then resting gently over her hip curve.

“Now.” He calmly started, but the trigger was already pulled, the haystack jerking as flyaways went into the air. The shot went straight through the heart. 

“Ahh~ Must be my luck~!” She chimed in happily. 

Then turned to him, pointing the gun to his chin. “Keep your filthy things. Away from me.” With that sneer, she peeled her body away and walked to the river decor, touching the cool water. 

He detached the silencer and put the gun in his jacket. Instead he pulled the marlboro box from earlier, into the bite of his teeth the butt of the cig goes and alight it goes. Deep breath, look at the sky and breathe out with closed eyes. Shouta then went to her, touching her shoulder. He wanted to know more about her. He needed to know the reason before the two-faced act. 

“My favorite color.. is this sort of pink.” She picked out a carnation, baby pink. 

“I supposed that’s what you tell someone you like, not hand them a gun.” Lilith spat, her thick brows crease in the middle. 

He stood before her, two feet away, and leaned in after taking a smoke, about to say something, she leaned in thinking it’s a secret. 

He puffed smoke from his lips over her face. 

I don’t know if I should be turned on or offended.

She thought to herself. 

“Mine’s black.” He observed her lips turn to a fine line of offense but could also see her cheeks reddening over her pale yet golden complexion. 

What ethnicity was she? 

He wondered. 

Who eats egg and ketchup and has pretty girls with the perfect shade of pale that doesn’t look too sickly and pretty deer eyes? 

He looked her down as she seemed fuming at him, he blew on her face again with smoke. 

And one hell of a body. 

Shouta’s train of thought came to a spot. He figured out her act. Her name can’t be that, could it? 

Doesn’t fit the picture to him. 

Deep talk about strawberries, liking pink, exotic features… Not quite to his taste of what ‘Lilith’ would be. 

She just stood there and finally muttered one thing: “Knock it off.” . 

If she was cavalier, and a spoiled one, she wouldn’t give hints during the conversations. Was he reading too much into it? Is it a change of culture? What does he know? She might get the looks from her mom but have a European father. 

He wants to know now.

[crvelsovls]

—

delphine laurent has been seen walking around town. hazelgrove is familiar of the twenty-nine year old demon as she is against restoring the town’s glamour spell. the people of hazelgrove can agree that the dancer can be poised yet still be destructive. let’s just hope something can be settled before the town is turned upside town. + rose gold highlighter shimmering along the height of prominent cheekbones, black satin dresses draped over a svelte frame and blood-red roses in a vase on the window sill.

why, hellooo there !! i’m chrissie and i’m super duper excited to be here !! this here is the first of my gals ; delphine aka my sassy lil demon child fkhfjh she’s kinda a newish muse so pls bear with me while i navigate this chaotic hellcat lmao anywaysss i’m utter plot trash so feel free to slap a lil heart on this and i’ll come pester you for plots n all that good stuff !! : )

FUNDAMENTALS.

full name. delphine athena laurent.

nicknames. del, & della.

physical age. twenty-nine.

actual age. three hundred and fifty seven.

birthday. unknown.

gender. cisgender female.

pronouns. she / her.

species. demon.

nationality. unknown.

religion. agnostic.

birthplace. unknown.

current residence. hazelgrove, me.

sexual orientation. pansexual.

romantic orientation. aromantic.

education. psychology degree.

occupation. dancer at purgatory.

CONNECTIONS.

birth mother. unknown.

birth father. abraxas.

full blood siblings. unknown.

significant other. n/a.

children. n/a.

pets. n/a.

PROFICIENCIES.

spoken languages. english, spanish, french, italian, german, & russian.

negative traits. brusque, obstinate, destructive, deceptive, & promiscuous.

positive traits. elegant, headstrong, observant, independent, & confident.

strengths. etiquette, resourcefulness, knowledgeable, quick-thinker, original, brainstorming, charismatic, & energetic.

weaknesses. argumentative, insensitive, intolerant, finds it difficult to focus, & dislikes practical matters.

skills. skilled with blades and various knives, skilled with firearms, hand-to-hand combat, memory recall, physical stamina, able to use initiative, & excellent problem-solving abilities.

talents. violin, dancing, & photographic memory.

APPEARANCE.

eye colour. green.

hair colour. dark brown.

height. five feet, five inches.

weight. 61 kg.

build. she is considered average height for a female and is both slender and toned.

scars. a rather noticeable one across her clavicle and a few others in less visible places.

tattoos. n/a.

piercings. earlobes.

glasses. n/a.

MISCELLANEOUS.

zodiac. unknown.

element. fire.

house. slytherin.

myers briggs type. entp-a.

alignment. chaotic neutral.

enneagram. type eight.

temperament. choleric

intelligence type. intra-personal.

character label. the vixen.

diseases. n/a.

past mental disorders. post-traumatic stress disorder, & acute stress disorder.

current mental disorders. undiagnosed.

addictions. tobacco, cocaine, & alcohol.

vices. lust, greed, & wrath.

virtues. temperance, diligence, & humility.

allergies. n/a.

diet. carnivore.

dominant hand. ambidextrous.

accent. american.

blood type. o negative.

felonies. petty theft charge when she was fifteen. she also has a history of both kleptomania, & pyromania when she was a teenager.

vehicle. red 1966 shelby 427 cobra.

BACKGROUND.

trigger warning(s). mention of death, mention of imprisonment, & mention of murder.

although the region of her birth remains a mystery to delphine, she knows for certain that her parentage is a complex story. the by-product of a human mother and a demonic father, delphine entered this world destined for a life of chaos and disarray. though she never knew her mother, her father had been thrilled by the sheer idea of having a child he could mould and shape into the pitch-black soul he desired her to be, minus the influence of a mortal. indeed, the demon abraxas had big plans for his little girl, plans she grew to work against despite her father’s best efforts to rein her in.

the instant little delphine began to display her powers, make use of her abilities and disobey daddy dearest, the girl was locked in her room. a room that contained every possible thing that a child could want. for the first few years of her life, delphine was homeschooled by a demon under her father's command. while her father made sure she had wanted for nothing, the older she grew the deeper she desired to explore the world  and her capabilities. one fateful night, the girl managed to escape her father's abode; used her enhanced speed and endurance to run far into the dark night. of course, it wasn't long until her father's demonic henchmen were on her tail, dragging her back to her prison. delphine knew her father gave her the best life possible but she also knew that there were ulterior motives behind his kindness.

eventually, delphine proved to defy her father to breaking point resulting in him having her shipped off to an all-girls boarding school. during her schooling years there, her father sparsely visited or, instead, often sent one of his subservient demons to check in with his daughter in his place. then, after a long period of time, the visitations ceased; the last thing delphine heard was that her father had wound up entangled with a couple of hunters.

delphine deemed this both a blessing and a curse. a curse as all she'd known was her father's rule. a blessing as she was finally free to lead her own life; make her own choices and follow her own path. she wasted no time in graduating from the academy before deciding to move to new york city where she found herself enrolled in new york university, undertaking a psychology degree.

still, with no word from her father or his servants, a small element of delphine continued to look over her shoulder in fear that they would creep back into her life. perhaps her father’s involvement with the hunters had ended in disaster. or perhaps he’d simply given up on his daughter fulfilling the prophecy he placed upon her. though the latter seemed unlikely to her, delphine wasn’t entirely sure if she truly cared enough to give any of it a second thought.  

after her graduation, she was cornered by a demon who claimed to work for her father. it soon became apparent that her father had vanished, seemingly having fell off the face of the earth altogether, and that this demon had stepped in to fill his shoes. naturally, the demon was trying to recruit delphine into the fold once more but refusing to take no for an answer had deadly consequences for this other demon.  

having killed the new ruler of her father’s faction, delphine made her way across various states until she would up in hazelgrove where she laid low for the first year. after a while, she began working in purgatory as a bartender until she decided she wanted to be front and centre stage, ending up becoming a dancer. 

while delphine isn’t fond of the idea of serving demons, she isn’t utterly opposed to working alongside them nor using her demonic powers. delphine can be a ruthless, callous creature who most definitely doesn’t exist to serve anybody or bend to the will of anyone.

PERSONALITY.

the semblance of delphine can only be accurately encapsulated by ribbed turtlenecks and skin-tight jeans with red-bottomed heels. the air of her seemingly callous persona epitomised by the ease of narcissism and offhand sardonic quips accompanied by a playful grin. delphine is the perfect balance of an elegant, self-assured woman and an intelligent, artful creature; effortlessly displaying only a rare sum of her persona, the elements of her she wishes others to see while concealing all the other elements of herself she deems less than favourable. one’s initial opinion of delphine might be that she appears cold, the kind of person who wouldn’t blink while grasping any opportunity to cut you down only to build herself up. delphine couldn’t be farther removed from her childhood self. every inch, every last detail of the once bright-eyed young girl has been broken down and reshaped into the icy-glared creature who lives today. life strengthened her, shaped her into a careless adaption of who she once was; a woman who stands her ground and speaks up for herself and what she believes in, never fearing the consequences of her actions.

QUICK FACTS.

owns waaay too many pairs of heels.

her signature look is her blood-red lips.

often wears suits and totally rocks them.

extremely skilled with knives and blades. always carries one on her person at all times.

has never been in love or had her heart broken.

although she wears a lot of red, black is actually her favourite colour. she feels her most powerful in an all-black outfit.

her most prized possession is her brushed chrome zippo. it has her initials engraved on it and where she got it or from who is something she’ll never tell.

always seen with a cigarette in hand. she seriously chain smokes. always says she needs to quit but never does and probably never will either.

is very soft underneath and a lot more sensitive than she lets on but she’d rather die than expose this about herself.

has a history of both kleptomania and pyromania when she was a teenager.

has a felony of petty theft when she was fifteen.

has a psychology degree from nyu but never tells people about this.

drives way too fast but loves the thrill of it.

is aromantic. believes she doesn’t have the capacity to love.

can speak quite a few different languages though she never usually makes use of this.

she can be pretty deadly if you piss her off enough.  

thrives on chaos.

a tad theatrical.

is truly an independent woman who don’t need no man.

her drink of choice is vodka tonic.

WANTED PLOTS.

for wanted connections and potential plots, i’m open to anything and everything. seriously, throw any idea at me and if it has angst, i’m a million per cent there !! however, some connections i’d love to see delphine have are :

a confidant / friendship.

a best pal.

an unlikely supernatural creature who turns out to be her friend.

of course, fellow demons.

a potential love interest.

past or present flings / hookups / fwb / one night stands.

frenemies or plain ole enemies.

clashing personalities.

somebody she often spends time with, most likely drinking with.

[richincolor]

New Releases

With summer break almost upon us, or for those of us already lucky to be out, these new releases are perfect for road trips or sitting by the pool.

Virtually Yours by Sarvenaz Tash Simon Schuster Books for Young Readers

Modern love plus online anonymity is a recipe for romantic disaster in this lighthearted new romance from the author of The Geek’s Guide to Unrequited Love.

How bad can one little virtual lie be?

NYU freshman Mariam Vakilian hasn’t dated anyone in five months, not since her high school sweetheart Caleb broke up with her. So, when she decides to take advantage of an expiring coupon and try out a new virtual reality dating service, it’s sort of a big deal.

It’s an even bigger deal when it chooses as one of her three matches none other than Caleb himself. That has to be a sign, right?

Except that her other match, Jeremy, just happens to be her new best friend IRL.

Mariam’s heart is telling her one thing, but the app is telling her another. So, which should she trust? Is all fair in modern love? — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Five Midnights by Ann Dávila Cardinal Tor Teen

Five friends cursed. Five deadly fates. Five nights of retribución.

If Lupe Dávila and Javier Utierre can survive each other’s company, together they can solve a series of grisly murders sweeping though Puerto Rico. But the clues lead them out of the real world and into the realm of myths and legends. And if they want to catch the killer, they’ll have to step into the shadows to see what’s lurking there—murderer, or monster? — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Not Your Backup by C.B. Lee

Emma Robledo has a few more responsibilities that the usual high school senior, but then again, she and her friends have left school to lead a fractured Resistance movement against a corrupt Heroes League of Heroes. Emma is the only member of a supercharged team without powers, she isn’t always taken seriously. A natural leader, Emma is determined to win this battle, and when that’s done, get back to school. As the Resistance moves to challenge the League, Emma realizes where her place is in this fight: at the front.

Like a Love Story by Abdi Nazemian Balzer + Bray

It’s 1989 in New York City, and for three teens, the world is changing.

Reza is an Iranian boy who has just moved to the city with his mother to live with his stepfather and stepbrother. He’s terrified that someone will guess the truth he can barely acknowledge about himself. Reza knows he’s gay, but all he knows of gay life are the media’s images of men dying of AIDS.

Judy is an aspiring fashion designer who worships her uncle Stephen, a gay man with AIDS who devotes his time to activism as a member of ACT UP. Judy has never imagined finding romance…until she falls for Reza and they start dating.

Art is Judy’s best friend, their school’s only out and proud teen. He’ll never be who his conservative parents want him to be, so he rebels by documenting the AIDS crisis through his photographs.

As Reza and Art grow closer, Reza struggles to find a way out of his deception that won’t break Judy’s heart–and destroy the most meaningful friendship he’s ever known.

This is a bighearted, sprawling epic about friendship and love and the revolutionary act of living life to the fullest in the face of impossible odds. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

I Wanna Be Where You Are by Kristina Forest Roaring Brook Press

“In a world where it’s easy to lose faith in love, I WANNA BE WHERE YOU ARE is a brilliant burst of light. A dazzling debut.” ― Nic Stone, New York Times bestselling author of Dear Martin and Odd One Out

When Chloe Pierce’s mom forbids her to apply for a spot at the dance conservatory of her dreams, she devises a secret plan to drive two hundred miles to the nearest audition. But Chloe hits her first speed bump when her annoying neighbor Eli insists upon hitching a ride, threatening to tell Chloe’s mom if she leaves him and his smelly dog, Geezer, behind. So now Chloe’s chasing her ballet dreams down the east coast―two unwanted (but kinda cute) passengers in her car, butterflies in her stomach, and a really dope playlist on repeat.

Filled with roadside hijinks, heart-stirring romance, and a few broken rules, I Wanna Be Where You Are is a YA debut perfect for fans of Jenny Han and Sandhya Menon.

If It Makes You Happy by Claire Kann Swoon Reads

High school finally behind her, Winnie is all set to attend college in the fall. But first she’s spending her summer days working at her granny’s diner and begins spending her midnights with Dallas—the boy she loves to hate and hates that she likes. Winnie lives in Misty Haven, a small town where secrets are impossible to keep—like when Winnie allegedly snaps on Dr. Skinner, which results in everyone feeling compelled to give her weight loss advice for her own good. Because they care that’s she’s “too fat.”

Winnie dreams of someday inheriting the diner—but it’ll go away if they can’t make money, and fast. Winnie has a solution—win a televised cooking competition and make bank. But Granny doesn’t want her to enter—so Winnie has to find a way around her formidable grandmother. Can she come out on top?

This Time Will Be Different by Misa Sugiura HarperTeen

Katsuyamas never quit—but seventeen-year-old CJ doesn’t even know where to start. She’s never lived up to her mom’s type A ambition, and she’s perfectly happy just helping her aunt, Hannah, at their family’s flower shop.

She doesn’t buy into Hannah’s romantic ideas about flowers and their hidden meanings, but when it comes to arranging the perfect bouquet, CJ discovers a knack she never knew she had. A skill she might even be proud of.

Then her mom decides to sell the shop—to the family who swindled CJ’s grandparents when thousands of Japanese Americans were sent to internment camps during WWII. Soon a rift threatens to splinter CJ’s family, friends, and their entire Northern California community; and for the first time, CJ has found something she wants to fight for.

When the Ground Is Hard by Malla Nunn G.P. Putnam’s Sons Books for Young Readers

In this stunning and heartrending tale set in a Swaziland boarding school, two girls of different castes bond over a shared copy of Jane Eyre.

Adele Joubert loves being one of the popular girls at Keziah Christian Academy. She knows the upcoming semester at school is going to be great with her best friend Delia at her side. Then Delia dumps her for a new girl with more money, and Adele is forced to share a room with Lottie, the school pariah, who doesn’t pray and defies teachers’ orders.

But as they share a copy of Jane Eyre, Lottie’s gruff exterior and honesty grow on Adele, and Lottie learns to be a little sweeter. Together, they take on bullies and protect each other from the vindictive and prejudiced teachers. Then a boy goes missing on campus and Adele and Lottie must rely on each other to solve the mystery and maybe learn the true meaning of friendship.

The Boxer by Nikesh Shukla Hodder Children’s Books

Told over the course of the ten rounds of his first fight, this is the story of amateur boxer Sunny. A seventeen-year-old feeling isolated and disconnected in the city he’s just moved to, Sunny joins a boxing club to learn to protect himself after a racist attack. He finds the community he’s been desperately seeking at the club, and a mentor in trainer Shona, who helps him find his place in the world. But racial tensions are rising in the city, and when a Far Right march through Bristol turns violent, Sunny is faced with losing his new best friend Keir to radicalisation.

A gripping, life-affirming YA novel about friendship, radicalisation and finding where you belong.

[esaeld]

Silat

Silat is a loose term used to refer to Indonesian, Malaysian, and some Filipino martial arts. Silat loosely translated may mean "one that moves like lightning". It may also mean "skillful movement" but the exact etimology of the term is hard to trace due to the infusion of so many cultures. Based on where the style originated it may be called Main Po, Betawi, Penjak Silat, Poekolon, etc. Jave, Sumatra, Bali, and other regions all have their own blend of this approach. Most Silat systems are blade oriented and therefore the knife is a big part of it. The wavy blade known as the Kris is a trademark of Silat and is regarded by the most steeped in Silat to possess magical properties. The teacher of Silat is called "Guru" or "Guro in tagalog". The master "Maha Guru". The spiritual master as "Pendekar". These terms may be interchangable depending on who you get your knowledge. Popular systems are Mande Muda, Cimande, Bukti Negara, Maphilindo, Harimau, Mustika Kwitang, Tapak Suci, Tjimande, Poekoelan Tjiminde, the list goes on…Indonesian culture has three main categories of martial art form: 1. Pentjak Silat (self-defense) ; 2. Penjang Gulat (wrestling ); and 3. Ujungan (stick & blade application). These variations of fighting methods have been in existence since 400 AD. Today, Pentjak Silat is the most popular of the three systems with wide spread organized associations and through acknowledged practitioners. Penjang Gulatis practiced mostly by the farmers of Indonesia, and is rarely seen today, except at annual festival events. Ujungan is occasionally incorporated into various Pentjak Silat styles or other systems that are closely related to Indonesian culture like the Filipino martial arts. These three major styles may be seen individually as a self-defense form or combined to make up one particular system. This depends on the experience of the practitioner.  Pentjak Silat is performed with a high degree of rhythmic and artistic motions that give it a dance like appearance with a deadly array of combative techniques. The combinations of soft and hard explosive movements, changing directions at any point in time, forms a defensive system that uses hard strikes with flexible postures. Pentjak Silat practitioners occasionally hide their techniques from the attacker with unusual postures, stances and hypnotic movements that are meant to confuse and deceive the attacker. Once this is achieved, Pentjak Silat practitioners will defend or attack from a variation of angles and positions that surprise the opponent, giving the advantage to the Pentjak Silat practitioner. Other forms of deception that Indonesian warriors have used against their opponents are colorful garments and wooden facial masks that represented frightened and colorful gods.  These tactics were also used to heighten the warriors adrenaline to endure the pains and victory of  battle. It is also noted that these tactics of self hypnotizes were used to transcends one's spirit and physical appearance into a form of a god, making him invincible and untouchable. But Hindu master that perform such court dances of display represent not only the invincible warrior but princes, guardians, heroes and legends that all tell stories of their great nobility. Such acts as these have been the core of Indonesian beliefs for thousands of years. There are approximately 800 different systems of Pentjak Silat throughout Indonesia. Each share some similar characteristics to the other, but all Pentjak Silat styles are different in their fighting method. Distinctive styles developed to address the differences in the terrain and environment of the villages as well as the physical characteristics of the tribesmen that displayed them. Some techniques are characterized by upright postures and sweeping motions that trip the opponent off balance, while other styles are characterized by low stances and involve pulling the opponent to the ground.  Pentjak Silat practitioners are trained to constantly deliver elbows, knees, empty hand blows, locks and take downs as their primary empty hand defense, and yet maintaining to keep the symbolic art form that is native to the Indonesian culture. Variations in the use of daggers and blades are incorporated into Pentjak Silat empty hand defense without changing the basis of the system. Blending the use of weaponry, with ones movements and combative applications, forges a type of martial art that is mysterious, sophisticated and deadly with weaponry applications.                                                                                                                           Migration from different cultures such as Persia, India, Malaysia, Philippines, and Europe have occurred in the Indonesian islands for centuries. The Dutch being one of the most successful in controlling the spice trade and valuable resources that are native to the Indonesian islands ruled parts of Indonesia until the year 1948. In that year, the Indonesian revolution occurred, and native Indonesians successfully fought to take back the control of their country from the Dutch. Today we see Pentjak Silat spelled and pronounced in two different manners. 1. Native Indonesian spelling - Pencak Silat  2. English spelling -Pentjak Silat.       Pentjak Silat teaches specifically arranged set forms that are called: Juru's, Buha and Sumbuts. These patterns train the practitioner to constantly move into particular formations of footwork while executing their defensive weaponry. Indonesian native instruments are played to accompany the practitioner's movements and to influence rhythm into the practitioner's motions. Once this is mastered the practitioner then will incorporate several of the forms that have been practiced, and deliver them without any particular order or structure. This high level of performance is called "Kembangan" which translates to "ones own expression" while performing Pentjak Silat.

[lit102]

The Three-Body Problem by Cixin Liu, trans. Ken Liu

An invigorating and gripping book. Probably the best science fiction I have ever read & Cixin Liu is arguably the best sci fi writer alive — in both the “science fiction” and “writer” senses of that term.

The Three-Body Problem asks: If an alien civilization, desperate for survival, invaded Earth — could humanity survive? And would we deserve to? It begins during China’s cultural revolution in 1967, with a brutal act that will shape the future of the whole human race. You might say that this entire book, though packed with plot and information, is merely setting the stage for what’s to come in the next book. A physics professor named Ye Zhetai is being publicly berated in front of a crowd by several passionate young Red Guards, who want him to renounce Einstein’s theory of relativity and thus the “black banner of capitalism” it represents. When he refuses, they attack, whipping him to death with the copper buckles of their belts. The professor’s daughter, Ye Wenjie, has a front row seat to her father’s death. As the crowd disperses, she stares at his body, and “the thoughts she could not voice dissolved into her blood, where they would stay with her for the rest of her life.” These thoughts will haunt her throughout a stint in the Inner Mongolia Production and Construction Corps, cutting down trees in the once pristine and abundant wilderness — so full of life you could reach into a stream at random and pull out a fish for dinner, now transforming into a barren desert in front of her eyes — and at her hands. There, she meets a journalist who questions the wanton deforestation that has also touched her heart. “I don’t know if the Corps is engaged in construction or destruction,” he says. His thinking is inspired by Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring, a copy of which he gives Ye Wenjie to read and which changes her life. It inspires her to wonder: if the use of pesticides, which she took for granted as a “normal, proper—or at least neutral—act,” is destructive to the world, then “how many other acts of humankind that had seemed normal or even righteous were, in reality, evil?” 

Is it possible that the relationship between humanity and evil is similar to the relationship between the ocean and an iceberg floating on its surface? Both the ocean and the iceberg are made of the same material. That the iceberg seems separate is only because it is in a different form. In reality, it is but a part of the vast ocean.... / It was impossible to expect a moral awakening from humankind itself, just like it was impossible to expect humans to lift off the earth by pulling up on their own hair. To achieve moral awakening required a force outside the human race.

This idea shapes the rest of Ye Wenjie’s life. It is what prompts her to invite an alien civilization to our world, serving humanity up to them on a silver platter. She helps the reporter transcribe a letter to his higher-ups, warning them of the “severe ecological consequences” of the Construction Corps’ work. This letter is received as reactionary, and the terrified reporter claims Ye Wenjie wrote it, throwing her under the bus. All is not lost for her, however. Because of an academic paper she wrote before the revolution, "The Possible Existence of Phase Boundaries Within the Solar Radiation Zone and Their Reflective Characteristics,” she is not imprisoned, but scooped up to work on a top-secret military research project: an attempt to contact extraterrestrial life. Because it’s so highly classified, it requires a lifelong commitment, one she gladly makes: all she wants is to be secluded from the brutal world. And at Red Coast Base, on an isolated peak deep in the mountains, crowned by an enormous antenna, she finds the solitude she seeks, immersing herself in her work. It is here that, almost by accident, she harnesses the power of the sun to send a message far out into space — a message that, many years later, receives a chilling reply: “Do not answer! Do not answer!! Do not answer!!” This message is from one pacifist member of an powerful alien civilization, far more advanced than our own, who are facing extinction in their own solar system and desperately need to find a new home. The messenger explains that, if Ye Wenjie replies, she will allow this civilization to pinpoint earth’s location, then colonize earth. 

Without hesitation, Ye Wenjie replies.

This story unfolds over the course of the book, interwoven with the present day, during which an ordinary scientist named Xiao Wang is experiencing the results of Ye Wenjie’s message. All over the world, scientists are killing themselves — and strange things are happening to him that are shaking his trust in reality and driving him to the brink of suicidal madness. Before it’s too late, he finds out that he is just one target in an intergalactic war. Through a video game called Three Body, he learns about the enemy: the aliens Ye Wenjie contacted all those years ago. These beings live on a planet called Trisolaris, over four light years away from our Earth. Trisolaris has not one, not two, but three suns, which interact in a chaotic, unpredictable, and deadly dance that alternately scorches and freezes the planet, obliterating Trisolaran civilization — over and over again. When the planet is orbiting one single sun, that’s a Stable Era: a time of predictability and peace. But when one of the other suns dances closer, drawing the planet away, the planet then “wander[s] unstably” though the gravitational fields of the three suns, causing chaos: thus, this is known as a Chaotic Era. No one knows when a Stable Era will occur, how long it will last, or what horrors each new Chaotic Era will bring with it. This brutal, unpredictable environment has shaped the Trisolarans physically, psychologically, technologically... everything. As one Trisolaran puts it, the freedom and dignity of the individual is totally suborned to the survival of civilization. It is a totalitarian society, mired in “spiritual monotony.” As one Trisolaran you might call a dissident puts it: “Anything that can lead to spiritual weakness is declared evil. We have no literature, no art, no pursuit of beauty and enjoyment. We cannot even speak of love ... [I]s there any meaning to such a life?”

Trisolaran society, meaningful or not, is teetering on the precipice of doom. The Trisolarans can dehydrate and rehydrate their bodies, turning them into empty husks that can survive the uninhabitable Chaotic Eras — thus, through both perseverance and blind luck, they have endured up to this point. However, they have never been able to solve the “three-body problem” — they cannot predict the three suns’ movement and thus stay one step ahead. (I’m pretty sure the problem is fundamentally unsolvable.) And there’s an even bigger problem on the horizon... literally. Soon, their planet will fall into one of the suns. Trisolaran astronomers discover that their solar system once held twelve planets — the other eleven have all been consumed by the three hungry suns. “Our world is nothing more than the sole survivor of a Great Hunt.” The Trisolarans have little time left and no hope of survival — unless they can find another planet that supports life. That’s when they receive Ye Wenjie’s message. To them, Earth is the Garden of Eden — stable, prosperous, overflowing with life... like the pristine Chinese wilderness before the Construction/Destruction Corps arrived. The Trisolarans build a fleet and set off for Earth. ETA: 400 years. And they do one more crucial thing: they construct and send what they call sophons to earth, or particles endowed with artificial intelligence that can transmit information back to Trisolaris instantaneously and interfere with human physics research to the point of stopping it completely, essentially freezing scientific progress. They are preparing the ground for their arrival. Through the sophons, the Trisolarans see all — the only depths they cannot penetrate are those of the solitary human mind. And did I mention that Trisolarans communicate their thoughts to each other instantaneously, and there is no such thing as deception? Humanity’s edge is our ability to lie and deceive — an edge that the sophons all but obliterate. All our plans are laid bare to them. And so the intergalactic chess game goes on. 

All this, essentially... there is so much of it and it isn’t even the plot of the book; it’s just setup, it’s just the premise, it’s just the question Cixin Liu is asking. If such a thing happened, what would humanity do? What unfolds thereafter is his answer. When humanity finds out that the Trisolaran Fleet is on its way, this knowledge is enough to alter our fate forever. An organization called the Earth-Trisolaris Organization, or ETO, arises, with Ye Wenjie as its guru — an organization that seeks to further the Trisolarans’ aims on earth. Battling the ETO: the governments of the earth, desperate to find a way of defeating the Trisolarans and saving the human race. One faction within the ETO, the Adventists, hopes that the Trisolarans will kill us all; humanity, to them, is not worth saving. Another, the Redemptionists, worship the Trisolarans as gods and hopes that they can coexist with errant humanity and, through their influence, elevate — redeem — them. Ye Wenjie is a Redemptionist, and this is essentially her message: “Come here! I will help you conquer this world. Our civilization is no longer capable of solving its own problems. We need your force to intervene.”

The Three-Body Problem is full to bursting with stunning, unforgettable visual images: like nothing I’ve ever seen or even imagined. Liu's genius lies in his ability to take complex scientific concepts — the kind I am barely aware even exist — and with simple yet vivid language, paint them into breathtaking pictures that will sear themselves into your mind. There are images in this book that deserve to be as iconic as the monoliths from 2001: both vast and microscopic, cosmic and intimate. Many of the most cosmic are set in the Three Body video game or on the planet of Trisolaris itself. Through Three Body, Liu takes us through the history of Trisolaris in an abbreviated yet totally absorbing form: while the player tries to understand this alien world, in order to save it, we learn about it along with him. We stand in awe in front of a vast computer made up of millions of soldiers, waving colored flags, signals washing through them in colorful waves — until they, and everything else on Trisolaris, are sucked into space by the gravitational forces of three suns rising in awe-inspiring alignment over the planet. We see the Trisolorans unfolding a microscopic, eleven-dimensional proton into one, then three dimensions in their sky... 

Yet Liu’s skill isn’t limited to these vast, cosmic scenes. He can just as evocatively depict simple and moving ones: such as when a pregnant Ye Wenjie spends time among villagers deep in the mountains:

This period condensed in her memory into a series of classical paintings — not Chinese brush paintings but European oil paintings. Chinese brush paintings are full of blank spaces, but life in Qijiatun had no blank spaces. Like classical oil paintings, it was filled with thick, rich, solid colors. Everything was warm and intense: the heated kang stove-beds lined with thick layers of aura sedge, the Guandong and Mohe tobacco stuffed in copper pipes, the thick and heavy sorghum meal, the sixty-five-proof baijiu distilled from sorghum — all of these blended into a quiet and peaceful life, like the creek at the edge of the village.

Liu has a vast amount of information to convey throughout this book, and of course he sometimes simply turns to the audience and starts lecturing us, dropping all attempts to “disguise” himself in fictional conventions — such as when one character explains something to another. This kind of conversation, naturally, takes place a lot — but sometimes Liu simply has too much to get across for even such methods (themselves a kind of shorthand) to make sense, and he needs to take even more of a shortcut. But he also knows how to end these long, “dry,” lecture-y scenes with a flourish of beauty that never fails to take my breath away. At times, Liu’s prose can come to feel almost sentimental — it seems to reflect the romantic idea that in the simplest of human societies lies a fundamental goodness... Is this the idea behind the book? Ye Wenjie, the individual driving everything, has a heart hardened to ice by the brutality of the world. Her time with the villagers, and I think her experience of motherhood, thaws it a little — but later, when she confronts the Red Guards who killed her father and sees not a shred of remorse in them — sees that, indeed, they too have been brutalized by the world, and are wrapped up in their own suffering while at the same time asserting its insignificance — “History! History! It’s a new age now. Who will remember us? Who will think of us, including you? Everyone will forget all this completely!” — the dewdrop of hope for society in her heart evaporates and she devotes her life to the ETO from then on. As a Redemptionist, her “ideal is to invite Trisolaran civilization to reform human civilization, to curb human madness and evil, so that the Earth can once again become a harmonious, prosperous, and sinless world.” These aren’t her words, but those of her comrade in the ETO, Mike Evans, who will betray her by splitting off to become an Adventist. What sounds like unconscionable sentimentality — when was Earth ever “sinless”? — is just the cover for the deepest, blackest cynicism of all.

Earlier, I mentioned that the Trisolarans unfold an eleven-dimensional proton into one dimension, then three dimensions, in their sky. They are trying to unfold it into two dimensions, a surface they can write on, so they can turn it into a computer, “re-fold” it to its true, microscopic size, then send it to earth as a sophon. One and three dimensions are mistakes. In one dimension, the proton is an infinitely thin line — one which solar winds scatter into sparkling strings that fall like rain into the Trisolaran atmosphere, drifting with the currents of the air until they attenuate into nothingness. The effect is purely visual and psychological: As one Trisolaran explains to another, the strings have the mass of a single proton and can have no effect on the macroscopic world. However, when they accidentally unfold the proton into three dimensions, it’s a different story. Geometric solids explode across the sky, gradually forming into an array of eyes, which gaze “strangely” upon the planet below. (Not unlike the “eyes” of the sophons, come to think of it.) The microcosmos, it seems, contains intelligence — an intelligence that is, itself, fighting for survival. The eyes conglomerate, forming a parabolic mirror, which concentrates the sun’s light on the capital city of Trisolaris — doing serious damage before the Trisolaran space fleet destroys it. Thus destroying an entire microcosmos — and any intelligence, any “wisdom,” any civilization expressed therein. This is a fleeting moment, but — having just finished The Dark Forest — perhaps key to everything here. The universe is abundant with life, at both the macroscopic and microscopic level, and life wants to live. 

[jose-carioca]

Muse as a Deity

tagged by: @sewn-cutie tagging: too shy to do tagging but @ me if you do it I’d love to see

NOTE: I took this Way Too Far because I’ve been reading a lot of Hindu mythology lately so UUUHH I’m feeling inspired. I added the “extra mythology” section myself

GOD(DES) OF: Music, Dance, Parties, Fun, Art, Hedonism, Relaxation, Travel, Friendship, Playfulness, Romance, Tricks, Charisma, Cunning, Acting, Illusion, Deception, Smoke, Laughter

ASSOCIATED WITH: Sunsets (Some believe José paints the sky), football (a sport the God enjoys), hammocks, alcohol, drug use, cigars, musical instruments, painting, Brazil (he appears in many cultures but his origin is always Brazil), fashion and stylish outfits, sneakiness, jokes, humor, LOUD NOISES, disrespecting authority.... The god has a fondness for people who struggle with addiction or depression.

SACRED PLANTS: Cattleya orchid

SACRED STONES/GEM(S): Peacock ore

SACRED ANIMAL(S): Parrots, alligators, crocodiles

COLORS: Green, Bright Colors (often arranged in some psychedelic patterns)

FOOD: Wine, Fresh delicious fruits of all sorts especially jackfruit

SCENTS: Cigar smoke, Nice Cologne

ACCEPTED OFFERINGS/WAYS TO HONOR: PARTY. THE MORE FESTIVALS AND CELEBRATIONS THE BETTER! This God loves fun to the point where it might be a Problem.

CREATE ART. This god loves music and dance most of all, but he loves all forms of art. Painting is something he considers very close to him. Any art is good art. Story-telling, pottery, whatever, MAKE YOUR ART. José feels every person is capable of creating something unique and of great value.

RELAX! If you have hard work to do but instead go “nah I’m going to honor myself and the God José by chilling” then that is a VERY GOOD THING.

TRAVEL, LEARN ABOUT OTHER CULTURES AND RESPECT THEM. This God views traveling the world and mortals seeking more information about other locations and cultures as a very good and beautiful thing. Connect with your fellow people!

This god is a fan of ritual and his followers performing magic. Some people would see this magic as “black magic” if they looked at it from an outside perspective. José teaches all people have their own power, magic and divine energy within themselves. He wants his followers to honor him by trying to hone their own magical abilities and use ritual to try to solve their life issues. This could be the God being lazy and not wanting people to pray to him for help. He also likes rituals done in his honor.

HE LOVES ALL GIFTS. He loves having gorgeous temples. He loves it when people dance and sing inside his temples.

Having a happy go lucky attitude and paying tricks on people is also something that honors him. Making as many friends as you can honors him. Romancing your romantic partner and showering them in a lot of love is something José appreciates.

Some believe this god will shape-shift so that no one can recongize him and he will sing inside his own temples or he will join the festivals that are thrown in his honor.

If I’m gonna be real honest with ya’ll, sometimes the people who worship José and who follow the God’s values can be real obnoxious. So much of what other religions aspire to, being selfless, being modest, etc can be completely absent. José seems to encourage putting your own fun first.

But his worshipers aren’t violen. José is not a fan of any violent action and believes in treating other people’s differences with respect. True followers of José will NOT behave in a violent manner and will not do stuff like start wars in his name.

EXTRA MYTHOLOGY:  There is so much mythology about the God José that it’s all very difficult to keep track of. He appears in multiple cultures and his personality can sometimes drastically change depending on the culture.

Some people will say he is a very good person who is charming and charismatic. He deeply values his friends and will do nothing to harm them. He has a lot of respect for all living creatures. He is often a calming force known for peacefulness and for encouraging others to get along. He’s benevolent.

Others will say this God is a LITTLE SHIT with a very complicated history. A lot of his actions involve him screwing other people over or acting selfishly. Some people believe that the fact many people think this God is nothing but Good and Sweet is just a symptom of people falling for his charms. Even though he’s a LITTLE SHIT, people still love him. He often doesn’t face consequences for his actions, or if he does he uses his powers to get away fine in the end.

Sometimes his mythology is very sweet and light-hearted, making him a more friendly and approachable figure. At other times his stories are very dark and filled with morally abhorrent behavior. Sometimes the myth imply he is popular and well-liked, other times the myths make it seem that many want him dead.

José is often seen with other Gods. There’s a trio of Gods he is famously part of. Donald and Panchito are the other two gods. There are lots and lots of myths surrounding these three and they are often worshiped together as a trio. There are different ideas about all of the roles of these three deities. There are likely some people who believe these deities are all the same energy manifested as three separate beings.

In Brazil, Panchito and Donald are known, but much less prominent. José is seen with other gods native to this country instead. A goddess named Rosinha is very prominent in José’s life and the two have a very conflicted relationship. Sometimes their conflicts create some interesting myths. There are other prominent characters, such as Nestor, who is either a mortal servant or another God. The stories vary.

Sometimes there are other deities who are José’s bloodline. Most prominent are Zeca and Zico. But not every culture acknowledges them.

A crocodile or alligator named Old Tom is sometimes important. This large and deadly creature isn’t known for any vicious behavior and is a gentle, fun-loving pet of José’s. Sometimes he rides the reptile as a vehicle.

There is often BALANCE when José is paired with other Gods. When José is alone with no one to balance him, his behavior seems to become the most questionable and unhinged.

He is known for being tricky and shape-shifting. He is also known for having flair. Many times when he appears he is surrounded with by magic smoke which changes shape.

Though he’s often depicted as a cute little birdie, he’s also much more powerful than some would expect and it’s not a good idea to underestimate him. No one really knows any weaknesses or methods to do him harm. Most things he just laughs off.

[faketextstuff]

Caught In A Lie (prologue)

Summary:: In order to succeed in the entertainment business in this world one most eventually ‘make a deal with the devil’ or ‘sell their soul’ to the mafia and become a modern day slave to the family. Jimin is a struggling dance student with high morals and a determination to make it on his own. His best friend is a hired body guard in the notorious Bangtan faction and is constantly trying to persuade Jimin in coming to work for the family in order to make his life easier. Yet Jimin keeps refusing. When things start to go bad he finds himself wondering if making a deal with the devil would be his best option. He soon finds himself deep in a lie and caught in the claws of a beautiful but deadly woman who is one half the leader of Bangtan.

Paring: JiminxReader

Warnings: Graphic violence, cursing, deception, eventual sexual content. 

A/N: This is purely a fake world in which I’ve thrown real people into. Think of it as a movie staring your favorite people. This is in no way related to them other than I used their names. All fiction and it should stay that way. I mainly wrote this because I’d personally love to see BTS star in a mobster film. I believe they have the talent and look for it. This is purely a gift to ARMY who wanted a badass girl fiction. LOL Please review it or comment. It makes my day to see nice words. Also if there are typos I’m sorry. It was 2AM when I wrote this.

"So how's the dancing coming along? My parents said you applied at the school of fine arts over the summer."

Jimin glanced up from his soda where he had been watching the large ice cubes float around in the bubbling cola. Ever so often Jimin would occasionally stir his drink with the black straw, watching as more bubbles floated to the surface of his drink then popped, making a low fizzing noise.

His eyes met the dark yet curious ones of his old school mate, Jungkook. Jimin and Jungkook had both attended the same school and even though Jimin was two years older than the other male, the two formed a tight knit friendship that had lasted through high school and college. Jungkook was the sports guy, always making the top teams and gained many scholarships to play at different schools around the world, while Jimin was the dance kid.

Jimin did play a few sports growing up but dancing had always been his passion aside from music. To him the two went hand in hand. Can't really dance without music.

Jimin had met Jungkook while both of them auditioned for a school play when they were preteens. No one ever pictured Jungkook for a singer but once he opened his mouth everyone, Jimin included, were blown away by his voice. Jimin knew his voice was top notch as well but he preferred dancing and letting Jungkook have the lead singing bits in their play. The two of them built a name for each other and were tied in the school's student body voted for "most likely to succeed".

However, succeeding in Busan was easier said than done. The entertainment industries in the country were mostly owned by the rich and powerful, by rich and powerful, that meant mafia. Each idol that came along either bought their way into the industry with their parents money, were born into it or they were working for the Mafia. There were several different mafia factions, the most known were the factions of Red Velvet. A faction of women who were as deadly as they were beautiful. They helped many well known actresses push their way to the top by any means necessary.

There was the EXO faction. A large group of guys who mostly held a tight grip on the television and broadcasting areas. The BigBang faction were their don who was called G-Dragon held most of the crime and drugs that filtered out into the streets, Stay Kids faction, Seventeen faction....all of these families were ones you never wanted to cross on a bad day.

However there was one that held each family and faction in a tight grip. The Bangtan faction. They were formally known as BigHit but once the don of their faction stepped down it was handed off to two young members who had been with the faction from the start, the name changed to Bangtan. Kim Namjoon, aka Monster, who lived up to his name with his ruthless sense of business and knowhow. And BigHit's adopted daughter Y/N, aka Swan. Many factions protested BigHit's don handing the family over to a foreigner who had no blood ties to Korea but she quickly earned her place and respect with her knowledge and take no shit attitude. The rumors spread like wild fire about her ruthless nature but sensible attitude towards solving issues quickly and almost effortlessly. Swan quickly earned her name and place in the country. For a long time she was known as the White Swan due to her light colored skin and easy to spot features, however as she made a name for Bangtan she became the Dark Swan. Everyone said the White Swan was her when she did her charitable work for the country by helping lost kids find their way and bringing more money into the country with her over seas ventures and projects, and the Dark Swan was a side of Y/N no one dared mess with. She'd not hesitate to get her hands dirty and eliminate the problem when necessary as well as the one causing the issues. She also held the police tightly in her hands. Most say it was because of her beauty that had the men and women falling at her feet but truthfully it was because they knew what would happen if they crossed her's or Namjoon's path. Together they were unstoppable and pretty much ran the whole country. They were as close as brother and sister and when working together they were called the Twins.

Succeeding in Korea now meant working for one of the families. Make an enemy of one and soon everyone had you on their list. Jimin had been working on his own, refusing to 'sell his soul' for the promise of fame and riches. Jungkook, he joined swore service to Bangtan right out if college. Jimin was unsure of his position but knew Jungkook was very close to Namjoon and Swan. There were many pictures of Jungkook sticking very close to Swan's side while out at public functions.

Of course Jungkook wasn't stupid, he knew damn well that dating a mobboss' daughter, adopted or not, was like signing your death warrant these days. Times were tough but Jimin knew Jungkook's heart was always in the right place so he never judged his friend for running off and joining the mafia.

Jimin's pride, however, kept him striving to achieve his dream on his own. He was struggling and knew the odds were not in his favor for getting accepted into top league dance academy when he didn't have the money to buy his way in, but still he held on to his hope and determination.

"Hello! Jimin!" Jungkook snapped his fingers in front of Jimin's face twice, knocking the older one out of his trance. "You still with me?

"Yeah, sorry." Jimin laughed, his cheeks flushing slightly having been caught drifting off. "Yeah I applied but I haven't got a call back for an audition yet." Jimin let his shoulders skin a bit in sadness. He had worked himself close to death to get this far, only to not get a call yet.

"You'll get a call. You're the best dancer in the country." Jungkook gave a comforting smile to his friend before leaning back in his seat. "You know how to get a call--"

Jimin was quick to cut the younger man off, "No." He stated firmly with a clenched jaw and hardened eyes.

Jungkook sighed and cocked his head slightly to the left, his dark eyes staying fixed on Jimin. "Why not? You've worked so hard, you deserve to get a little help. Namjoon and Sawn could help if you just ask."

"For what price, Kook? My pride?" Jimin sighed, his hands going up to rub his face harshly. Of course the offer was beyond tempting but Jimin wasn't going to sell out that fast!

"Pride? You think I sold my pride when I took the job with Bangtan?" Jungkook began to get a bit defensive. Bangtan was his family and he was overly protective of his new family.

Shaking his head, Jimin gave the man an apologetic smile. "You know that's not what I meant, Kook. I just...I want do this on my own and not owe anyone anything."

"You don't have to do this alone. You think I wasn't afraid of losing myself when I joined? I was. Fuck it was the scariest thing I've ever agreed to, but my dream was more important to me. Now I'm working on my own album with one of the best producers in the world. It's all worth it if you can do what you love, even if you have to get your hands dirty time to time." Jungkook began preaching to his friend, hoping he'd come around. Jungkook hating to see Jimin struggling this way. "Remember Hoseok? The guy who graduated from college a few years a head of us?"

"Yeah, the lead dancer for the drama team?" Jimin nodded, his brow arching slightly.

"Well he started out street dancing when Namjoon found him, he works for Bangtan and now he's the top choreographer in the world. Hell, you can't turn on the TV without seeing someone using his dance moves. Same with Kim Seokjin the famous chief. This restaurant is his. He owns a chain of them and recently opened one in Tokyo. I work with him and Swan everyday. He's a great guy." Jungkook glanced around the highly packed restaurant and smiled. Yeah every member of Bangtan worked hard and had to pay their dues but the pay off made it all worth it. "It's okay to ask for help. Everyone needs help."

Jimin sighed knowing that Jungkook was making very valid and tempting points he just didn't know or believe he was cut out for the mob life. Hell, he hated hurting bugs when he stepped on them while on the streets but the things Bangtan could and would do to people who displeased them, it terrified him. Even more so to think of quiet, shy little Jungkook who had had known for years having to hurt a living soul. "I just want to get by on my own. To have something that's mine, ya know?"

Sighing, Jungkook nodded, Jimin was still as stubborn as ever but he hoped one day he'd come around and accept help and no be so hard on himself. "Yeah, I get that." Dammit, he just didn't want to see life drag Jimin down and snuff the fire that fueled Jimin's dreams. "If you ever change your mind just give me a call."

"I will, Kook. I swear." Jimin chuckled once more, giving Jungkook the smile that at times he didn't have the energy for.

Jungkook returned the smile before he noticed outside the entrance that a large black SUV had pulled right up to the door. Jungkook knew that car and a small smirk tugged the corners of his lips. "I'll be damned. Talk about timing." He said with a breathy laugh. "Speak of the devil and she shall appear. Isn't that how the saying goes?"

Jimin turned his attention out towards the SUV and watched with curious eyes as a man dressed in an expensive black dress suit, white shirt and black tie stepped out from the drivers side and made his way towards the backseat passengers side. Jimin recognized the man to be Kim Seokjin, owner of this restaurant as Jungkook earlier pointed out.

He didn't blink as he watched Seokjin glance around cautiously before opening the door and helped someone step out from the backseat. It was a woman with long dark hair that hung loosely in curls that fell down her back in soft waves, she was dressed in a form fitting black dress which made her skin look a beautiful pale color. Her lips were painted red as blood and the coat that hung snugly to her body was a bright shade of red that matched the lipstick. It was Swan! He knew her from the photos. He watched as Seokjin stood close to her side and another man slid out of the backseat as well.

The man had a very intimidating look about him that only worsened the feeling by his dyed silver hair. He too was dressed in all black, unlike Seokjin, this man was dressed in solid black and no tie. To Jimin it looked like something right out of a movie.

Jimin half wanted to ask Jungkook if her ears were burning and that's why she showed up here of all days, but he thought it better to keep his sarcastic comments to himself, at least for now. He just watched in silence as the silver haired man opened the door for Swan and the three made their way inside gaining many whispers and glances. Everyone clearly knew who just walked in and Jimin couldn't believe people were openly whispering about the trio right in ear range.

Jungkook stiffened his posture to look more professional as Swan glanced around the crowded restaurant. Eventually her eyes landed in Jungkook and a soft smile spread across her red tinted lips. Okay, yeah. He could see what people meant by her beauty. She was even more breathtaking in person.

Jimin's heart fluttered and his hands began to sweat as the three swiftly made their way over to their table. "Kookie, I didn't expect to see you here on your day off." Sawn spoke, her voice was gentle and her Korean was flawless. Hearing her speak no one could say she wasn't raised in Korea.

"My friend Jimin, here has never eaten here so I thought I'd treat him today." Jungkook spoke with a soft laugh before nodding his head towards Jimin who wanted to desperately crawl under the table out of sight but it was too late, Sawn's gaze fell immediately on him. "Swan, this is my good friend from Busan, the one I told you about."

Jimin quickly straightened up and forced a nervous smile. "I'm Park Jimin." He bowed his head in respect.

"Oh this is the dancer I've heard so much about." Swan grinned brightly before extending her hand. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Park Jimin. I'm Y/N, but you can call me Swan."

Jimin discreetly wiped his hand on his jeans before taking hers in a gentle grasp. He made a mental note to curse Jungkook later for talking about him to Swan. "Nice to meet you too, Y--Swan." He managed to catch himself before he called out her real name.

"I hope you've enjoyed the food here." Seokjin spoke up as Jimin quickly released Sawn's hand as if he had been burned by her gentle soft touch.

"I have, thank you." Jimin smiled nervously before bowing his head once again to the older man.

"Jin-hyung, since it's his first time, you should comp our meals." Jungkook smirked and wiggled his brows.

Seokjin visbilly bristled at the younger man and narrowed his eyes. "I'll comp his mean, you know how much money I spend on you with food alone? I even had to add Sushi to the menu for you."

Jungkook held an amused look as he began to argue with Seokjin with a playful tone. "You're getting testy in your old age Jin-hyung." Jungkook mocked.

"Old? I'm not old. Twenty-six is not old!" Seokjin's voice rose a whole octave as he chided the younger man. "You won't think that when you're my age."

"You'll still be older than me and just as tight with money." Jungkook mocked Seokjin's tone which caused the silver haired man to chuckle under his breath.

Swan rolled her eyes and placed a hand to Seokjin's shoulder. "Just this once, let's comp his meal. Kookie will make up for it later in Suga's studio. Isn't that right, Suga?"

At this, the silver haired man smirked and gave a sharp nod. "Oh of course."

Jimin's eyes widened slightly, Suga? He knew that name. Min Suga, or Yoongi was a world known and respected music producer and rapper! Jimin had done many of his routines to Suga's songs. Jimin had no idea that Suga was a part of Bangtan.

"What are y'all doing here today?" Jungkook asked suddenly which caused all the smiles to fade.

Swan glanced at Jimin, silently wondering if she should talk with a stranger here within ear shot. However she still spoke after fixing her gaze on Jungkook. "We have a..." she paused wondering how she should word this. "A meeting with that smuggler who has been dealing BigBang fits for the past few months."

Jimin noticed Jungkook's playful demeanor disappear into something he had never seen before. Jungkook became serious and tense. "Do you need me?" Need him? What did that mean? What was going on?

Swan shook her head and gave a wave of her hand. "It's nothing Yoongi, Jin and I can't handle." She glanced to her left to Suga who just gave a cold smirk and folded his arms across his chest lazily.

Jimin held back the urge to gulp, whatever this meeting was but he knew by Suga’s look that it wasn’t going to end in the smugglers favor. Suga had a dangerous vibe oozing from him as he stood silently.

“You enjoy your day off, but I’m glad I saw you. I know I promised you tomorrow off as well but I will need you. I have to go to Japan to oversee the construction for the new hotel Joon and I are opening.” Sawn continued, her voice holding a serious tone.

Jungkook nodded instantly. “I’ll be there.”

“We’re going to leave early so just plan on staying at the penthouse. We’ll take the jet and come back in three days.” Swan smiled softly.

“Just the two of us?” Jungkook asked feeling the urge to get all the details now rather than later so he’d know how prepared to be. It was always dangerous to travel out of the country in their line of work. Namjoon and Sawn were never allowed to both be out of the country’s the same time. It left Bangtan exposed to people who would dare try a take over.

Swan shook her head as Suga glanced down at the Rolex on his wrist before plascing a hand on the small of Swan’s back to signal it was time for them to go. “No, V will be coming with us since he’s over the design.”

Swan gave Jungkook a sharp nod, as if telling him they’d sort out the details later before turning her eyes to Jimin, the soft expression returning to her face.

Jimin felt himself heat up under her gaze. He then realized he had been staring the whole time with a slightly slacked jaw. “Jimin, it was nice to meet you officially. Jungkook talks about you all the time. I hope one day to see you dance. If you ever need anything don’t hesitate to ask. Any friend of Jungkook is a friend of mine.” With that she gave a small nod before turning on her heel to leave the two alone. Followed closely by Seokjin and Suga.

Jimin felt his cheeks turn about fifty shades of red as she walked away. He watched the elegant sway of her hips as she headed towards the stairs that lead them up to VIP booths. He glanced over at Jungkook who was simply smirking at his friend. “She’s amazing right?” He asked as Jimin simply nodded.

“Amazing.” Jimin nodded.

**–**

As Sawn walked towards the VIP section she smiled to herself stopping herself from glancing back over her shoulder at the young friend of Jungkook. The deer in headlights look he gave her the whole time made her giggle softly to herself. Innocence in today’s world was a very odd thing to find.

“What are you giggling about?” Yoongi asked nudging her with his elbow as they neared the “meeting room”. A room no one should ever want to find themselves in unless you’re on the Bangtan side.

“That Jimin. He’s a cutie isn’t he?” She laughed softly while Jin smirked at his boss.

“You always liked them young, boss.” Jin wiggled his brows in a suggestive manner gaining a gentle shove from Swan as she pushed open the door to reveal a bruised up man gagged and bound to chair in the middle of the room. The smuggler. Hoseok was standing behind him with a large grin that stretched from ear to ear when he saw Swan and his fellow members enter.

“Hobi darling, did you bring me a present?” She asked with a grin as the trio stepped into the room. Her smile was a cherry one but her tone was cold as ice. “You’re so good to me, sweetie.”

Suga followed Swan into the room and Jin gave a swift glance down the halls to make sure no one who wasn’t granted Bangtan access happened to be lurking around the VIP section. After making sure the coast was clear he stepped inside and closed the door, making sure to lock it after it was shut.

[alltheworldsinmyhead]

  OUR FUTURE WILL BE A BRIGHT ONE: CHAPTER SEVEN

                     eremika soulmates through time modern au

( chapter one/chapter two/ chapter three/chapter four/ chapter five/chapter six/ ff.net/ ao3)

YI RI SAN QUI

CHINESE IDIOM; "ONE DAY, THREE AUTUMNS" – INTENSELY MISSING OR LONGING FOR SOMEONE SO THAT ONE SINGLE DAY APART FEELS LIKE THREE YEAR

 "and it ain't a mystery you fell for me

we're just two lost souls trying to find our peace

love like ours ain't a masterpiece

it's a good day in the sun            

i was born to love you

out where the water is wide

make me your country bride

you'll be my prince of tides

you were born to heal me

under a velvet sky

cattails dancing in the light

we were born to live a long and happy life

a happy life

- Delta Rae A Long and Happy Life

  People notice things, they are well aware of that; it is surely spotted how baron often seems to be dozing off when his wife shamelessly winks at other men above her feathery fan, but his dear friend is always the apple of his eye. How baroness herself is terribly fond of said friend's wife and can be rarely seen without her by her side, both of them dazzlingly dashing with their blonde hair and tightly-laced corsets.

How much time the four of them spend together; the sheer close proximity of two couples would be enough to raise rumors, but, in addition to that, they slowly but surely get too lazy to cover their tracks, get tired of masks and lies and deception. Eventually, it's almost like they are not even trying anymore.  They always split for vacation, when two women enjoy the thermal waters of Vichy or well-stocked libraries of their respective estates and two men laze around and almost carelessly spend golden mountains of money on wine and blackjack in Monaco 

 (but never women, they would never buy a single woman and the baroness and her lovely lady in waiting never take men. They would all preen or giggle or send a smile or two, charming and daring, but none of them is ever actually caught red-handed. In a way, you could say that they are shockingly faithful to their respective partners – not to mistake with 'spouses'.

That is  worth noting too.)

They mix clothes and rely on servants and hotel service not to spill spicy details about any compromising and surprising positions and configurations in which they may be or not be caught; they leave dozens of apartments covered in feathers from ripped pillows, with ruined bed rests, silk ribbons thrown haphazardly all around the floor and love bites on display on the skins of their necks

They chase after one another through long corridors of castles and mansions, skirts hitched up and cravats untied, hands reaching for wrong hands, lips locked with forbidden lips. Laughing out loud like children, the baron and his friend stroll around, tousled hair and all, glued at the hip, their wives following them, clad in smirks and delicate lace and shamelessness as two cheetahs in bejeweled collars.  Frowned-upon desire put proudly on display like an ornate Faberge egg.

Stormy sky blue and soft baby blue irises caught in a shared gaze, sparkling emeralds always meeting opalescent greys.

Done with running and hiding, having only enough decency to use marriage titles, their affairs hidden by the sheer layer of translucent ice. A blind man could see through it easily.

So yes, people notice things and maybe even know things; but for some time, they all somehow get lucky and make it; buy their freedom to love and live with pearls and diamonds and defiance, and enjoy every second they are given.

Live like royalty, like gods among mortals, blinding in their disgusting extravaganza. Their years spent together are endless summers filled with baked swans and tender lobster tails served on silver trays, with sky-high elaborate wigs, with parties and dances and sexual plays, tiny poodles on silk leashes, horses with hooves painted in gold.

It's not gossips that put an end to this wonderland; it's a deadly female.

Madame Guillotine cuts through shining threads of their lives in four clean strikes, but it is all easy to bear as even she cannot sever the bonds that tie them all together. 

***

 There's an album full of Eren's baby pictures on Mikasa's lap and a cup of tea in her hand; cinnamon- smelling crumbs scattered on the table in front of her.

Carla is busying herself in the kitchen with dinner, her son helping her out, or attempting to do so; she can hear them bantering and playfully snapping at each other the way only a loving, if slightly overbearing parent and an equally loving, but a little bit irked child can, but they are not loud enough to interrupt her train of thought.

And that is- well.

She's mostly trying to clear her head a bit because there's a lot to take in.

In ten minutes since she has entered the Jeager's house, she's been immediately seated in the living room, given a hot drink and a heavy load of Eren-related information. He can knit, apparently, was a star soccer player from primary up until police academy, did wrestling for a while, knows how to make a mean omelette, tried living in a forest for three weeks once , owns a pug (she wonders why he didn't feel the need to tell her this particular thing. Maybe he assumed she's a cat person and decided to keep quiet, which is – just idiotic, to be honest. She's not a heartless monster, for fuck's sake; pugs are adorable. Everyone loves pugs).  He's hard-working, ambitious, driven and determined and loyal to a fault. Never surrenders and never gives up; always finishes what he has started. An idiot sometimes, mouth quicker than brain and a troublemaker, but with a heart made out of sheer gold.

Carla, Mikasa thinks, would be an excellent PR specialist, if she ever becomes tired of working as a nurse. She has an urge to interrupt her monologue to assure her that, no, she doesn't really need to advertise her son so fiercely. She's already convinced, sold, bought, whatever.

But Eren's getting more flustered and flustered with every word getting out of his mom's mouth and duh, Mikasa enjoys his struggle way too much to put it to an end so soon.

Absent-mindedly, she turns pages of the album; Eren grows up in front of her eyes , from a wrinkled newborn to an awfully cute toddler, a toothy-grinned first grader, a frowning middle schooler and an awkward teenager, his lanky limbs not knowing how to operate simultaneously.

And then there are photos from his high school graduation, Eren laughing, head thrown back, surrounded by a huge group of friends, all wrapped around each other, young and shining in their capes. Hulking blond guy and a tall dark-haired one; athletic freckled girl with her arms around tiny beauty with sparkling blue eyes, a shorty with military cut spinning around laughing girl with thick ponytail,  skinny fair-haired guy, glasses on his nose and the sweetest smile. She makes a mental note to ask him about their names.

And – of course- the last picture is Eren getting his badge, his eyes shining with something that looks suspiciously similar to tears.

Her own heart swells a little with pride and she can hardly fight a small smile that finds its way to her lips. Out of all the people in the world, he is the one she will get to share her life with and she couldn't be happier with the fate's choice.

"Mikasa?" Eren emerges from the kitchen, a blue bowl filled with something smelling of sage and rosemary in his hands and an orange apron hanging loosely around his hips. "You're alright?"

She smiles at him, putting the album on the table and standing up.

"Yeah, everything's fine. You need help?"

He shakes his head and opens his mouth but before he can say anything, Carla's voice rings from the kitchen:

"Actually, sweetheart, can you set the table, please? My son still hasn't mastered this art, despite many years of practice." 

„Mom, please, stop."  Eren sends her a very apologetic look and storms back into kitchen and Mikasa can do nothing but try to stop the giggle from escaping from her lips. She loves it all so much.

It's not just Eren she's getting. It's this house and Carla, and the pug, and the people from the photographs in Eren's album. It's a whole new world, shiny and bright and ready for her to take and be welcomed in.

And with that thought warming her head-to-toe, she follows Eren to ask Carla where are cutlery and glasses, listening to the mother-son banter quietly, with the cheek-achingly-wide smile painted on her face.

  She almost moans in delight, taking yet another piece of chocolate cake into her mouth, savoring the taste on her tongue.  She tries to hide that and her cover is good, he'll give her that – but he's no fool; even a complete monster would turn into a saint for just a bite of this heavenly thing that Carla somehow enchants in their old oven.

And he's seen it so many times, this expression of wonder on so many faces, but it still suits hers just best. His mom is beaming from the other side of the table, asking Mikasa questions about her culinary preferences so that she would know what to cook for their next visit. Their old golden retriever quietly patters into the dining room and puts her heavy, warm head on Eren's knees, wordlessly asking for scraps.  And so, as he scratches Leia behind her fluffy ears and watches his mom and his soulmate discussing apple pies and lemon meringues…

There's a strange feeling that overcomes his body somehow, sweet and wonderful and very, very old – as if the three of them have already been there and done that before; the shared chores and shared dinner, the laughter, the talk, their voices entwined into one, perfect melody. Mom and Mikasa smiling at each other, him between them, like a bridge.

No missing pieces in this puzzle; there's a rightness in this scene that has never been there before.

***

Carla's smiling at them, as she ushers them out of the doors, mischief in her eyes when she says:

„Go, go, take your time together." and the sheer implication rings in her voice so clear that he feels his face turning beetroot red. He quietly wonders how many times he has already blushed tonight and even quieter laments at this count, but Mikasa just laughs.

That's all she's been doing the whole evening, actually. Laughing and beaming, her face transforming with happiness; the apples of her cheeks and the tip of her nose dusted with pink. For a few hours gone was the stoic, poised girl, still a bit unsure how to handle the situation; for a few hours she was dancing around his house from kitchen to dining room, dishes in her arms and smears of chocolate on her chin.

And he's curious about that, but he doesn't really know what question he could possibly ask her to understand.

He grabs her hand instead and they move forward. The pavement is covered by the thin layer of ice and the heels of her shoes glide against it, making a high-pitched sound.

„Your mom is lovely," she says quietly, grabbing onto his arm for better balance. „And your house too. Thank you-" she raises her head to lock eyes with him, the shadow of a smile still remaining on her mouth, " – for taking me to meet her."

He lowers his own head so that he can press a kiss to her forehead; he can't believe she is the one to thank him.

„Honestly, the pleasure's all mine. But I have to admit, I didn't expect you to click together so … well."

Mikasa chuckles, nodding to herself; a hint of her amusement makes its way into his system, light as champagne bubbles.

„You know, when I was a kid, I wanted to be just like her."

He almost trips on his own feet; stumbles and stops for a second as Mikasa steadies his form.

„Wha- what do you mean?"

She shrugs and tries to seem nonchalant, and he might have believed her if not for the way she buries her face in the folds of his scarf and grips his arm a little more forcefully.

"Well. My mom is an academic professor, she was always busy when I was a kid. But on weekends, whenever she had time, we would drive out of the city and she would just spend whole days in the garden. Had the most beautiful sunflowers in all the county. Still does, actually."

The snow is not falling anymore and the street lights shine clear; Mikasa's eyes reflect it even brighter as she stares into the distance, deep down on the memory lane.

"We have this house in the country, kind of a little farm, I guess. I loved it so much then. There was only us and a dozen of chickens and dad would sometimes take me to the river at dawn to try fishing. We would just sit for hours on the pier, not even speaking, just- taking in the view. And my mom would always wait for us with an apple pie ready. She taught me gardening, embroidery, and cooking. All I ever wanted when I was a kid was to be like my mom; to have a little house by the forest, a husband to kiss me when he comes from work and a bunch of kids to run around. To live a long and happy life."

She's looking down at her feet now, stopping speaking abruptly as if she just realized the words that came from her mouth. But he says nothing, just squeezes her hand gently and so she lets out a deep sigh, a little bit embarrassed when she states:

"Your mom is so warm, so big-hearted. This is the kind of woman I've always wanted to be."

Eren studies her form, the grace in her posture even when she is hunched, strands of black hair framing her beautiful face. Mikasa is not a woman she had just described; she is not the sunflower shining for everyone, she is not the summer sun warming all people equally. She will never be loved by everyone or love everyone . But those that she loves, those that she trusts-

He thinks about how she acts around him when there's only two of them and their heartbeats. He thinks how easily she shed her dignified demeanor while she was washing dishes, giggling with his mom.

And he envisions her childhood dream; a log cabin at the edge of the wood, a river humming nearby, picnic table covered in red-and-white checked tablecloth. Mikasa hanging sheets in the backyard, her long braid falling down her back and black-haired, green-eyed children playing hide and seek around her legs.

Coming home to see just that.

Fondness swells in his heart. This is a fantasy that doesn't belong to the world they live in and the one that, at first glance, doesn't particularly suit a woman as independent and put together as Mikasa… but a beautiful, beautiful dream regardless. The picture that he knows he will never manage to abandon.

"Long and happy life, you say?" he hums in appreciation, sending her a dazzling smile and, through their bond, a kiss to her soul, sweet and tender. "I think we can manage that."

***

 The evening slowly turns into the night and as they prepare for bed and lay down under the covers, Mikasa can feel the storm coming.

He's about to say something and she will not like it; she knows this before he even opens up his mouth to speak.

He fiddles with his shirt and tugs gently on her hair, licks his lips, scratches the back of his neck. It's like a low-current running through her body, electricity buzzing in her ears constantly and still, nothing can prepare her for the moment when the shoe drops.

"So, uh, my shift starts tomorrow at 8.00, but I think I can finish off a little earlier, like… 16? And we can grab something to eat then, how about that?"

There's ringing in her ears and her breath catches and she wants to slap herself because, jesus Mikasa, overreacting as hell right now.  He's got work, he has to go to work, nobody, and especially not her uncle will excuse his absence.  But as she turns her face away from him, although she does her very best to get a hold on herself, there's a tremble in her voice.

"Oh. Okay."

I'm about to cry, she realizes, horrified. What's wrong with me?

His arms wrap around her middle and, as he hides her face in her shoulder, she cannot stop the small hiccup of a sob that escapes her lips.

"Mika, hey, Mika. I know- I know, alright?" His hands lock around her." I know, I understand."

Panic is a cold wave that crashes over her, chill runs through his veins, through their bones.

‘'Maybe I'll call and-"

"No, no." She shakes her head, slipping from his arms; distancing herself from him leaves her aching all over but she does it anyway. It's unhealthy, even for soulmates to be so wrapped up in each other, but they got careless, they got too needy. "You should go, we-we can't act like nothing even matters anymore."

His brow furrows and he gulps and she knows which words he swallowed.

(only you matter now, only this.)

She wants to reach out, god knows she does. Wants to take his hands in hers and kiss him; nuzzle her face against his neck, curl inside his ribcage, lock herself in his heart. Let him hold her until she melts into him and they'll never be apart.

But it's not good for them and it's not possible anyway, so she takes a deep breath and says:

"Chinese tomorrow for dinner, what do you think about this idea?"

***

 The morning comes too soon.

She didn't manage to doze off even for a few hours; laid with her eyes closed and breath even, emotions ripping her insides to shreds. She didn't let him hug her and thought that will make her body numb, that if she gets used to not touching him when he is beside her, seeing him leave will be easier.

It's not; it hurts, physically hurts and she digs her fingernails into the flesh of her palms not to reach out to him, roots her feet on the floor not to run after him. He kisses her so gently that it's more like a shadow of a kiss than a real thing; maps her cheekbones with the tips of his fingers and walks backward through the door to look at her as long as he can.

She swallows to get rid of the bitter taste in her mouth and manages a grimace resembling somewhat a smile:

"I'll be here when you come back."

He nods but he doesn't seem to believe her at all.

"Mikasa-"

"Go." –she waves her hand goodbye, praying not to tear up, praying for him to leave before she tears up. "Go, don't be late. Levi-"

"Hates that, I know." He's still standing in the corridor, still looking at her and he's so anxious that it spills over. So she breaks herself a little inside and coaxes her body to cooperate; slows down her heartbeat, lets her hands hang loosely by her side, raises her head higher.

And so he relaxes too; even manages to send her his trademark boyish grin before stealing one more kiss – this one a little more proper, not just a paintbrush stroke- and turns away rapidly, running down the stairs fast as if he was afraid that as soon as he slows down he'll come back running to her.

Oh, she wishes he did. So bad.

 Hours pass so lazily, she's almost afraid that clocks have all stopped working. And she's absolutely restless.

Goes out for a run, hoping to tire herself, but finds herself looking for his face in the crowd of unfamiliar ones. Tries to answer messages that accumulated on her phone and social media during the weekend and realizes that she has no idea what to tell all those people. Writes a short message to her coach to assure her that yes, she'll be back in training on Wednesday. Curls on the armchair for a minute or two only to jump up at the slightest of sounds, as easily spooked as Madeline. Picks up a book just to stare at the same page for half an hour.

By 2 P.M. she's equally anxious, frustrated with herself and dead tired.

So she picks up the phone and does the only thing she can think of.

"Annie? Hi, sorry for radio silence. I had a reason though."

Annie's usual blank voice is somehow less disinterested than normal.

"Better a good one, Ackerman."

Mikasa almost smiles. You have no idea, girl.

***

Eren is pretty much sure that is the worst day of his entire life, but he doesn't really register anything that's happening around him so it might not be true.

His longing takes a form; it's a ball of pain in his chest, covered in thorns and making his lungs and heart bleed whenever he takes a breath . Usually he'd be sulking for being assigned to paperwork for the whole day, but today he thanks, all of the gods he knows for it; there's a white mist obscuring his vision so that even the easiest forms transform into a herculean tasks of bureaucracy, so he's scared to even think how his work in the field would present. It takes so much effort for him not to say fuck it all and run back to Mikasa like a stray dog begging for a little warmth that by lunch he is downright exhausted.

Four-fifths of his new team send him worried glances above their respective meals and the one fifth, his boss, the living legend, the man he admires more than probably anyone else in his life looks so disgusted with his current state that Eren is truly surprised he manages not to spontaneously combust under his burning glare.

All he thinks, all he feels, all he pretty much is is –

Mikasa, Mikasa, Mikasa, Mikasa.

His mind plays tricks on him, plasters her face on any girl that enters the office, forces his eyes to look for her even though the mind knows her location all too well. His knee is constantly twitching, bumping the cheap wood imitation of his desk and making his keyboard jump up and down. He has dark circles underneath his eyes that he's sure weren't there before. She's haunting him and he is, to put it bluntly, a mess.

And yet, he cannot manage to care, not when yet another torturous hour passes and he gets closer and closer to breaking free.

After he glances at the clock for the fifth time in two minutes  and it's still 15:24, Petra – who seemed to gravitate more and more towards his desk as the day progressed- taps his shoulder and asks him, very slowly and kindly, is there any way she could help him, really?

He tears his gaze away from the digital numbers of the clock to look at her; amber eyes are wide open, concern written all over her face.

All that's ringing in his head is that he wishes he could look at another woman.

"I-I don't think so." He mumbles, looking down at his still twitching knee. "Or maybe- Petra, I'm sorry, could I drop out early today? Please?"

The desperation in his voice is so clear that even he grimaces a little. Petra bites her lip and opens her mouth and he just knows she's about to say that she's sorry but-

"Let him go."

Levi is standing back to them, seemingly deeply engrossed into the act of scribbling some notes on the whiteboard, but he is speaking so loudly and clearly that everyone in the office just drops their work for a second, exchanging surprised glances.

Levi is not exactly known for cutting his officers slack.

"Let him go, Rall, he's useless anyway."

Petra gapes at the back of Levi's head, mouth opened as a fish gasping for breath before shaking her head and patting Eren on the back gently.

"Go." She whispers softly and Eren can almost see the ghost of the smile on her lips. "Go, you idiot, before he changes his mind."

He doesn't need to be told twice; he's so happy he could kiss her, but there is another mouth belonging to another girl and waiting for him at  home.

***

  The only thing he does is ring the bell and suddenly she's all over him.

Arms wrapped around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist; she opens the door so violently  that the sound echoes in the empty staircase and jumps into his waiting arms. And he's been running all the way there, driven by the fear that he somehow forgot the way (how could he forget the way, now that he knows it?) and so he's a little than more winded but, honestly, who cares about breathing anymore. 

She kisses him with wild abandon nobody would suspect her of, almost livid in her raw desire. She's a mess of emotions, a tangled pile of electric cords in his hands; she sends nerves live-wiring beneath his skin.

They bump into furniture on the way to the bedroom and some small part of his brain registers it, sighs to itself about bruises that will inevitably bloom on his skin tomorrow. But he's got a handful of her and as he lowers his head down to press his lips to her neck and sucks on her pulse point she straight-up moans; this sound escapes her lips like a dirty secret and he swears he's gonna keep it… after he hears it again and again and again.

He nips on her collarbone, feeling her body shivering against his own, and she tugs on his shirt desperately, pulling him behind her until they both collapse on the mattress. His mouth curls into a smirk as he puts his weight on her, but then she spreads her legs, raises up her hips-

And before he can even notice, he's the one laying pinned underneath her and she's the one hanging above him; her breasts brushing his chest, heavy breaths rocking her body. Mikasa has her cheeks stained pink, there's saliva smeared on her chin and bite marks on her neck; he slowly raises his hand up and loops a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His palms cup her cheek face and her eyelids shut close.

Desire doesn't go away, neither does arousal; but as he looks at her – god. God bless.

It's like everything suddenly glows. There's unexplainable sweetness that didn't use to be there before; the strawberry red summer sun warming him up.

It's like somebody reached out and covered all of his emotions in gold, made them better, more complete. Kissing has never felt like this before. Making out has never felt like this before. He could've as well never touched a girl before.

So new, so fresh, like the air after the storm and still so familiar. She's his first time and the last time; the only one he'll ever want, the one he will never get enough of.

You woke me up, baby.

His other hand sneaks underneath her shirt, trails the line of her spine, caresses her back which arches under his touch.

"Eren." She still has her eyes closed, humming his name like a melody. "Eren."

She nuzzles her cheek against his hand, turns her head a bit for her lips to reach his skin and kiss him.

I adore you. They think simultaneously, think with all of them . I was so lonely without you.

He briefly wonders what it will feel like, to tug her top up and her bra down, to put his mouth on her breasts and make her moan again. To let her pull on his hair as he blows raspberries on her inner thighs. He wants it all so badly, desires her body and her heart and her mind and her soul.

You already have it, she thinks to him and it sounds breathless even in his head.

His hands on her back press her down and she lets him; she leans and lets him kiss the remaining sense out of her until everything spins in front of her eyes and she forgets she's supposed to breathe.

 Her fingers tangle in his hair, pulling on them greedily and moving down and then her nails digging lightly into the nape of his neck-

Red, it’s all red everywhere, that's all he sees. Red, sticky and stinking of metal; the stifling hotness which coats his skin in sweat and makes his eyes water. 

"Eren!" she cries out, her hands reaching for him and he's running, running, blood buzzing in his ears and breath knocked out of his lungs at the fear twisting her features because Mikasa is brave, Mikasa has never been afraid of anything, Mikasa is untouchable, impossible to kill, stronger than all of them combined and yet-

And yet.

"Eren!"

She's so far.

So far away.

Something crunches underneath the soles of his boots, but he doesn't stop to check on whose corpse he stepped on.

Red is oozing from the cuts on her face; it looks as if she was crying blood. And he is stricken with the terrifying familiarity of this scene; of his mother's figure held by the gigantic hand and raised from the earth's surface. The sound of her spine splitting in half. Her blood falling down like a rain.

And him, helpless again.

He sinks his teeth into the palm of his hand again and again, and yet the lightning doesn't strike.  There's no magic this time, no transformation; and there's no spark of impossible in Mikasa either, just a small, broken, tired girl who exhausted herself to the point of almost passing out, her blades shattered, her wings torn from her back.

"Mikasa!"

Their eyes lock and her expression softens; the hand she held outstretched for him falls loose. To his horror, she looks at him with this bashful fondness … and that' when he realizes she has given up.

Her lips move, forming words which he cannot decipher because he's still so fucking, goddamn far away and he's screaming, still screaming for her, when her figure disappears in the gaping, dark hole of the titan's mouth.