#Three heroes appear at WORLDS' edge.

[randomdude102394]

Papayrus called, he wanted his coolness back for you 🧍

oh god, oh god uhhh oh no papayarus please i swear i'll give it back soon just let me finish this please don't steal my soul this is the 934th time this week papayarus please PLEASE HAVE MERCY

[2kyo7]

♱ 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐘 ♱ | LUNE

pairing ; adrian tepes , trevor belmont , sypha belnades x female reader

ཐི ➥ summary ; As the world begins to pay the toll of Dracula's rage, four unlikely heroes must band together and defeat him--no matter the price.

warnings ; swearing, blood consumption, biblical references (like one), mind control stuff

word count ; 3.9k

notes ; i’ll be starting a taglist here but i’m unsure about how long it’ll be kept open, so if u want to be added just reply to this post 😋😋!! i’d like to note that my wattpad always has an extra chapter posted b4 tumblr, so please check it out!!!💕💕

FOR WHAT FELT LIKE HOURS, a thick quietness overcame the corridor-but this was soon after replaced with fast sounds of movement as Trevor extended the whip on his side while Sypha created hot flames in her palms. The fire served as a small light source alongside the glow of Alucard's eyes, and a pair of unknown purple hues in the near distance.

"How insolent, you come into my home and threaten...me with toys and child's play?" The feminine voice laughed, her words booming throughout the castle in waves. In the darkness three more pairs of dark glowing eyes emerged, "speaker! Belmont! Stand down." Alucard tried his absolute best to keep the situation under control, but was only met with retaliation. They watched aimlessly while the trio of eyes flown across the room in circles around them, hysterical laughter following each of the moving figures. Each chanting their own retorts, successfully unnerving both Sypha and her equally edged accomplice Trevor.

"Shameless, entering our abode to taunt us with incantations and artillery..."

"Look at how their faces cage magnificent red! Imagine the taste."

"Expel of them swiftly, the filthy things."

Each voice spoke their truths with little to no hesitance, all wearing differentiating voices and identities. The insults continued unwavering, even as Alucard attempted to speak over them, but once more his efforts were wasted. "ENOUGH." That is, until the undeniable presence spoke above all noise made about, causing the feminine voices to become silenced as they no longer lofted about the room teasingly—instead standing beside one another near a grand window which now only served for decoration as no light shown through its glaring transparency.

"Now...step forth." Within a moment's time, Trevor along with Sypha obey the spoken orders in perfect sync. Similar to a solemn soldier and his commander. They weren't themselves. Mind clouded with an endless fog, and no matter how far they ran or how hard they fought-the thickness prevailed, neither of them were in control. "Much better, wouldn't you agree girls?" Mingled snickers could be heard from behind the imposing figure.

Suddenly a single pair of candles lit inside the room,

"every word you speak, any move you make; are no longer yours alone. Instead they will belong to me for however long I shall please." The light now provided a reveal for their perpetrators face, a woman appearing to be around her early 40's stood over them, looking down from her raised pedestal. Her most striking features were of course, her encapsulating amethyst-tinted eyes, the woman was...breathtaking for a vampire.

"...and soon I'll know your own mind better than you ever will." After her speech, quietness overcame the room once more, of course there had been the shallow grunts sounding from Sypha and Trevor, but those too would be silenced in the coming minutes-once their minds grew tired and the enchantment took full affect.

Finally, Alucard would step up. His mind curiously unaffected from a true blood's power, "I apologize on behalf of my companions...it seems they should've been better educated on certain matters." He lowered his head before giving a curt bow. "It's been too long, Jacquelin." Various gasp fill the room, the loudest coming from 'Jacqueline' herself.

"Do my eyes deceive me? No, I'm never wrong!" She steps over the black railing, promptly gliding down to gather a better look at the boy...no...man in front of her. Placing her hand to his icy cheeks, Alucard neither denies nor accepts the touch. "My it is you sweet Adrian, time seems to have wavered in your fortune."

Alucard hummed in response to her praise, a smile playing along his face, though he himself felt lukewarm. "As much as I appreciate the compliments, I think I'd be more appreciative if those two would be sincerely sparred." Jacquelin huffed, crossing her arms, she walks circles around the frozen duo, observing them. "Interesting. A hunter and a speaker, what are you planning?"

"Why ask when you already know?" There's slight edge to his tone, not enough to be considered hostile, but present all the same. Jacquelin smiled jeeringly, lines forming around her mouth, "their insight isn't near as concise in comparison to yours." She neared Sypha, fiddling with the arm of her clothing. Eyes beginning to glow dangerously bright. "I wanted to hear it directly from you, all that knowledge. Locked away and hidden. Share it with me, won't you?"

"Enough with the spectacle darling, you'll scare our guest." A fourth and final voice entered the room, this one pronounced and deep, echos bouncing off the walls until reaching Adrian and Jacquelin. "Oh but it was only a bit of fun." She began to hone her full attention onto her husband, floating up towards him almost magnetically, the man captured his wife within a gentle embrace, a smile too playing on his face upon seeing hers. The man was tall and fibrous, a well groomed salt and pepper beard adorning his face. He'd also be dressed lavishly in dark clothing, similar to his wife and children. In fact, his children mostly favored him aside from their most distinguished feature. "All in good taste, I assure you Louviers."

Adequately, Jacquelin releases her control with a simple and dismissive wave. Immediately the two returned to their defensive stance, "what the hell just happened?" Trevor questions, confused and wary as ever. Alucard twisted his head to look back at them, "calm yourselves, a solution has just been reached."

"Surely you know by now that this would be a fight you stood no chance of winning." Jacquelin giggled from behind her hand. "Mother, is the fun over already?" Emerging from behind was a heavily pregnant woman, sporting the same purple eyes as she Jacqueline. "Unfortunately your father cut it short. Disheartening isn't it, Lyevre?"

Before anything else could be said, the two other sisters revealed themselves from their shadowing positions. "Perfect everyone's here! Langrené, Lyevre, and (Name). Come greet our guest." The man bequeathed his daughters forward, calling each of their name's in order of birth. "My dear, I have an even more wonderful idea." Jacquelin interject, grin broad as day. "What better way to become reacquainted than dinner, Adrian has much to discuss with us but I am simply famished."

Jacquelin didn't have to utter another sentence, she felt the back of her hand be pleasantly kissed by soft; familiar lips. "Say not another word my love." With a snap of his fingers servants seemed to appear from thin air to aid their master's request. "Please show our guest to their rooms-assure they are in close quarters to one another." Louviers begins to lead himself and his wife elsewhere into the castle, eyes forever trained on Jacquelin. "And prepare a rather humane meal tonight, will you? In customary accommodations to our visitors."

Upon his parting words, workers scampered around them, immediately going to work without a minute to lose. A handful of them ushered the trio deeper into the castle, both Trevor and Sypha looked to Alucard with worry and doubt (he'd lost count of the reoccurring action), but wordlessly, they trailed along.

Alucard could feel a singular pair of eyes following his every move; down to the slightest shift in breaths, to the numbered amount of times his eyelids had fluttered themselves shut. He knew the gaze all too well-but the familiarity did nothing to stop him from turning to face its truth. THERE YOU STOOD head held high, eyes low with distain, betrayal, anger. The same look you'd given him all those years ago as he walked through your castle doors for the final time. If looks could kill, Alucard would've already been sent to the underworld three thousand times over.

Some things truly never change.

The reluctant heroes would be gathered for dinner that same night, instead of sending an undead servant to fetch for them-the second Dauvillier sister stood ecstatically in front of Alucard's door, her knocks persisted until the door was opened. "Adrian! Whatever took you so long to answer?" It had only been a few seconds...he wanted desperately to counter. "It's rude to keep a lady waiting, where have your manners gone?" From behind her Alucard could see an already exhausted Trevor, but a particularly joyful Sypha.

"My apologies, Lyevre...may I?" Alucard held out an expecting arm for her to take, one which she gladly accepted, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Of course!"

Together they gracefully traveled arm in arm towards the dining room, the gesture done out of pure politeness. Sypha and Trevor trailed a few paces behind, observing the decor of the castle halls. "Who is the lucky gentleman?" Alucard gestures to the golden ring adoring Lyevre's finger, a beautiful amethyst gem embedded on its surface. She began giggling cheerfully, like a young peasant girl in love.

Lyevre was the kindest out of her sisters, her upbeat personality complimented by a soft tone of voice made it easy for anyone--vampire or not--to fall for her charms. Long dark hair flowed behind her, nearly exceeding the length of the silky lilac robes she wore. Material optimizing her comfort. Especially in her current state.

A free, dainty hand reaching to message her round stomach. "You'll meet him at supper, he's quite the catch I must say." Alucard's eyes widened, deciding to humor her statement with blandishments. "He must be quite the sire indeed, to earn your affections." Once more Lyevre laughed softly, "quit your flattery Adrian, if my husband catches ear-well, he can get very jealous."

Remaining in easy conversation, they'd finally reached the dining area. The room itself was grand enough to hold unending banquets and balls. The decor (similar to the rest of the castle) was decorated rather darkly, accented with their family's signature color; purple.

"EXCELLENT, you've finally arrived! Hurry take a seat so we may begin dinning." As her father spoke, Lyevre left Alucard's side to seat herself beside her younger sister, you. Only sparing their group a revolted glance before returning yourself to scratching at your empty porcelain plate. Sypha rushed to sit across from Lyevre, seemingly continuing their earlier conversation, while Trevor cautiously moves to seat himself in front of Langrené—the eldest sister—who couldn't even bother to regard him whatsoever, instead choosing to further debate her father on foreign matters.

Langrené was undoubtedly the most cutthroat of your sisters, the strongest too. Like all firstborns, she had been burdened with the duty of upholding the family's name, assuring its success without fail. She was beautiful as she was menacing; having no need for charms Langrené much rather preferred utilizing threats and favors to gain advantages. Her hair sat styled in a half-updo, barely reaching below her shoulder blades. Dressed in thick but modest purple fabrics that left much to be imagined, only a single shade away from black.

Lastly, it came Alucard's turn to find himself a place amongst the group. There remained only two arrangements; the unoccupied chair beside Lyevre, (unmistakably left vacant for someone that wasn't him) and the empty seat crossways from yourself. Taking notice of this you scoff, a corner of your lip upturned high in the air. "Un-bel-ievable!" You say aloud, earning the attention of Lyevre. "Don't be rude fleur. Your playmate has come to see you, isn't that lovely?" She gestures for Alucard to continue his movements, "it's true, we haven't seen one another in ages...I've missed you quite dearly."

You flinch at his closing words, heart racing ever so slightly off pace. The feeling didn't last long. Crossing your arms over the expanse of your chest, you turn to face elsewhere in an effort to avoid his hallowing gaze. "And whose fault may that be?" Alucard leaned back into the furniture with a small sigh, he hadn't expected to be welcomed back by you warmly. Especially considering the circumstance of his last parting, but it's as if over the course of years your stubbornness had impossibly amplified.

Other qualities had amplified also since your last interaction, so long ago. Out of all your sisters you were unabashedly the most pampered, expected of the youngest. You hadn't grown up with the same hardships and pressures as your eldest sister; nor were you taught the importance of discipline and kindness like your older. You were allowed to flourish without the bidding of rules or the weight of power. And flourish in ways you might.

At the sight of tears or the howl of your voice, anything you desired was yours alone to own. Mountains of luxurious gowns, the sweetest of virgin blood, toys carved from that of diamonds and gold. You'd known to work for nothing, so you'd grown to work for none. Everything existed in your delight, and things that did not were simply forgotten. What reason would you have to learn the art of swordsmanship? Or needlessly drown yourself in studies for hours on end? To even master the works of your inherited abilities seemed so utterly pointless, what purpose could it ever serve?

Adorning your form was a dress suitable for only those bearing the royalist of blood, the material clouded down your shoulders in puffy sleeves leaving them bare for all to witness. Your cleavage wore minimal coverage as well; the top half of your chest displayed in a fashionable manner. Intricate designs cascaded along the expensive fabric accompanied by a number of matching laces and bows, effectively tying the outfit elegantly together. Hair styled similarly to Lyevre's, but never quite as long-wavering just above your hips.

Yes, you'd grown with assurance. Perhaps a little too much.

Before he could think to carry his dialogue much farther, an abrupt noise cuts through all others. Jacquelin stood at the far-most end of the table, similar to her husband, she held high in the air a empty wine glass awaiting to be filled by soothing, rich liquid; in her opposing palm rested a golden fork-made from only the purest materials. "Now that almost everyone has been gathered," she cuts quick eyes to Lyevre, "let us dine in each other's company and enjoy this nostalgic rekindling."

Instances after servants appeared to fill empty glasses and carry in their arms trays of an unending feast, stacked with various amounts of food; red meats, fish, poultry, wheat, vegetables and fruits. This was the grandest of grand dining. More food had been dished out in a single night than either Sypha or Trevor would see years to follow.

At first they looked upon the display with fearful eyes. Justifiably so. Anyone should be once having their minds bent and nearly broken beyond comprehension-but such the humanity of hunger would entice even the most durable of beings. Sypha couldn't help but to recall a faithful tale told by the ages of Eve and the forbidden fruit. While Trevor remembered the teachings of his youth, bribery the killer of fools.

Still, she stuffed her cheeks full like a rodent. Thanking every silent servant that wordlessly cleared her plates or offered her new feedings. And he, had drunken himself into a spell of his own. One glass after another downing his hearty throat.

The Dauvilliers—your family watched with mixed expressions of amusement, disgust, and wonder. Looking upon the two humans gouging themselves as if the latest spectacle. The scene akin to how fae tempt the human mind with simple trickeries for entertainment until their untimely deaths. Alucard felt a feeling of shame wash over him like a cold water, knowing that he himself was at least partially susceptible to such humane behavior. But in the same breath he too felt anger, knowing this was the extent of humanly worth to man-feeders like you. He swallowed his accursed thoughts, they would do him no good here.

Louviers' laugh was effusive, wiping his lips of any excess food that might've escaped with a pearly white cloth. "I'd forgotten how delightful watching humans feast can be, what a splendid idea darling." He looked to his wife who'd just finished her 5th glass of blood wine and showed little sign of stopping. "Yes, it's truly a show indeed. How many ages has it been since we last partook in the practice?"

"Far too long I must say." Louviers glances to Trevor's empty bottle, commanding someone to "bring his friend another drink" as he'd articulated. Simultaneously his middle daughter humored Sypha in a similar fashion, admiring how she'd been essentially inhaling her meal.

"Are all humans this desperate for food...poor things." Alucard knew the question was lined with false worry-faux concern-but Sypha was none the wiser. He noticed the way Lyevre's eyes started to faintly glow, whispering sugar-coated nothings into the shell of her ear. You happily indulged in your sister's game, holding a slice of ripe, delectable pomegranate to her lips, coaxing her to unwilling taking another bite. "You are not yet full are you, Speaker? Go on eat just a little more." Lyevre's control left Sypha's mind after uttering those few but haunting syllables; now turned thoughts at the forefront of her mind.

Alucard could only hold his tongue. At the end of the day, it was your family's help he required, and if becoming party tricks for only a few hours would spare humanity from certain doom-so be it.

"Enough of this," Langrené finally took it upon herself to speak above your family's joyous cries after silently watching for nearly the entirety of dinner. There was not even a passing glance of amusement to be seen; instead evident irritation and displeasure. She rose from her place at the table, the palm of her cold hand slamming against the table and with it, plates of food and utensils begin to levitate from the table's surface. Her voice carried oh-so effortlessly across the room, causing a number of servants to stop in their tracks, fearing they've made a grave mistake.

"You know I tend to quickly tire of games, Adrian Fahrenheit Tepes, so tell me of your being here-tell me now or leave with that of which you came."

Alucard knew his next few words could change the course of history itself, but he wondered not of what "that" Langrené spoke of meant, but he feared it all the same; perhaps his limbs? Or maybe she referred to the two humans he'd been traveling with for days on end; who were, as of now, incapable of forming a coherent sentence. At this moment (the wrong one), Alucard finds his humanity to be more dawning than ever. The weighted gazes of your family, combined with the various object spinning around overhead; Alucard attempts to straighten his posture, but even then he struggles to find the words.

"It is unfortunate that I am unable to access the mind of other's as can my mother and sister—if I could—this entire ordeal would have concluded the moment you graced the doorstep of this family. For dear Adrian, it does not take enchanted forces to know this is no mere reunion of old ties."Alucard remembers how he practiced throughout voyage here, he'd practice in perfect paragraphs how'd he would sway your family. His words buttered by reasoning, smooth with certainty. Curious is the mind.

"Mon petit amour, calm yourself. There exist not a soul who doesn't know our dear Adrian has been through a great deal." Jacquelin's fingers danced in the air, and soon everything returned to its rightful place among the table, including Langrené. Smiling she said, "Go ahead Adrian, you have the floor."

Alucard nodded in thanks, clearing his hoarse throat once his thoughts finally settled. "As you may have caught wind, no more than a year ago now-my mother was killed-falsely accused of witchcraft." There were no gasp of surprise, nor the fall of drinks, instead scarce pity. "My word, how truly regrettable it is to hear. That woman was remarkable for her kind." Louviers subtly shook his head, gaze casted downward onto his finished plate of food. Jacquelin hummed, taking another sip, "I'd heard rumors, but talk can be ever-so cheap."

"The news was rather unfathomable to me also, I mean the Count Dracula allowing his bride to murdered? Impossible!" Lyevre held a dramatic hand over her heart, breath appearing to leave her body as she spoke. "They say she was burned alive at the stake, is it true? I must declare, such punishments become more common with each passing day." The eldest sister grinned, Alucard could only ponder what seemed so tickling about his mother's death. He held his tongue once more.

"Hmph, such is the nature of humans. How does it feel to be controlled by fear, Adrian? Or do you prefer Alucard, now?" Your eyes-your words too, were filled to the brim with such contempt, such repulse, Alucard wondered who exactly he looked to in that moment. True bloods weren't notorious for their compassion towards humans, but you were a different entity entirely. "The same way you are controlled by hunger. (Name)." He was quick to shoot back, but careful in his tone. Your venomous glare sharpened, if not amidst a discussion, you'd pounce across the table and show him what. "I am...grateful...for your words, Dauvilliers. So you must know that following my mother's departure has been my father's wrath. Not only upon those responsible, but all of humanity."

"Goodness, how could we not? Just before your arrival we'd been deliberating our next plan of action, right Louviers..." she didn't give a chance to respond. "...but then I caught smell of a prophecy, that just might be our solution." Jacquelin's smile never faltered, instead growing as she rested her chin on the inside of her palm. "Feel absolute to correct me if I'm mistaken." She looked to Alucard, who sat as composed as one could. "Of course not Jacquelin, you never are."

Like a tale as old as old as the times; Alucard spoke of the story-fated heroes destined to rescue humanity's people. The soldier, the hunter, the scholar, and the true blood. Billions of lives rested in their balance, but only if they can acquire the final piece.

"Ah...allow me to clarify. You mean to recruit one of us, in hopes that we may kill your father? Alucard I must applaud you for your bravery, disguised as stupidity." Langrené stood from the table, beginning to walk away. "You are dismissed, I'm afraid you'll have to find some other willing vampire to do your biddings. Begone."

"My daughter, do not act out with such haste. Who are we to deny any prophecy if it means our safety?" Louviers' words halted his child in her tracks, "don't be ludicrous father, I won't allow anyone of this family to die for the sake of mortals. Mother, please reason with him!"

Jacquelin sat buried beneath contemplation. Though her oldest daughter has been arranged to inherit the family's title, the decision is still her's alone to make. "Your father is right, this is not our choice to make as forces beyond have already pronounced their judgment." Her expression shifted into that of rage, had she finally grown mad in her age, Langrené could not help but think. "Then who shall it be mother? Perhaps father who does not even carry the eyes, or I, the next to inherit this legacy? Maybe you are considering Lyevre who—may I remind you—is with child? No, I'm completely deluded. It is yourself, you wish to be a savior. Don't make me laugh."

She took a long pause before answering, the room falling silent. Aside from Langrené's heavy breathing, and Trevor's incessant mumbles. "Not at all Langrené, for it is your youngest sister; (Name), who shall fulfill this pending prophecy."

———

taglist: open

@foulbreadpeanut , @uhnanix

[theresattrpgforthat]

My roommate made a joke about wanting to play a sonic the hedgehog tabletop game. Is there a ttrpg for that?

THEME: Sonic the Hedgehog.

Your roommate is about to be surprised because there isn't just a single Sonic ttrpg. There's at least seven.

Speeding Bullets!, by Princess Grace.

In SPEEDING BULLETS!, you play as three to five intrepid, plucky anthropomorphic animals on a quest to save the day- or end it. It’s up to you, some six-sided dice, and your beloved SO (Shadow Operator) to determine the fate of the world.

SPEEDING BULLETS! is a single-page Lasers and Feelings hack where your stats are FAST! (hero) and GUN! (antihero). You and your friends will create Sonic OCs, randomly assign them backstories like "Dark Warrior's Advent" or "Purification via Ruination" from a table of 326 genders, and put them up against insurmountable odds, Dr. Robotnik, and their own rivals.

Lasers and Feelings games all have the same basic premise: you have one number that represents your abilities in two different stat, in this case, Fast and Gun. Rolling above the number is good for one stat, while rolling below the number is good for the other. Roll your number exactly? Then something special happens.

What Speeding Bullets takes from Sonic is rivalries, a perpetual quest to defeat Dr. Robotnik, and an alternate suggestion for playing as your character's rivals, taking references from Dark Mirror. The game also comes with a Gender Table, a roll-table that appears to reference every Shadow the Hedgehog ending.

Rainbow Runaways, by UkeleleBard.

You are an animal living in a human’s world. The humans have found you, and the military will pursue you with every weapon, vehicle, and trap they have at their disposal. You’ve only got one option. RUN!

Rainbow Runaways was created for the Caltrop Core game jam, and runs on the Caltrop Core engine by Titanomachy. You can play it Solo, or with a GM, with a deck of cards and a 1-3 d4's per player.

The goal is simple: escape the military by reaching the edge of the city. You track this by using a clock with 12 slices. The deck of cards represents the actions of the military as they pursue you. Your character is composed of three stats and three techniques.

All in all, Rainbow Runaways is succinct and to the point. I think one of the benefits of fan games like this is that much of the lore is already assumed to be known by the players, and as a result reading the game book can be much quicker, since you just need to learn the rules.

Edge Hedge Arena (Beta), by ANIM TTRPGS (@anim-ttrpgs).

Throughout all human history, people have been given names. You thought yours was only mean to be used as an identifier, but you were wrong. Your name was chosen carefully, with the conscious (or subconscious) knowledge that one day it would inextricably link you to a champion of immense power who is also a hedgehog. This “game” serves as a set of instructions for revealing this mighty guardian, so they can defend your honor and name in a battle to the freaking death!

Still in the early stages, Edge Hedge Arena is partially a battle game. This is firmly a pvp game, using your weapons, powers and style to give you an advantage in the arena. However, first and foremost, Edge Hedge Arena feels like a bit of a love letter to the Sonic Fandom, more than Sonic itself. When you make a character, you actually have to search for art of a hedgehog OC online!

Chaos & Control, by farmergadda (@farmergadda).

Chaos & Control is a hack of Lasers & Feelings by John Harper, inspired by a similar hack, Steel & Spirit by Occupied Hex. In this game, Players will take on the roles of colorful, cartoony animal people and go on adventures through fantastic locations, facing off against maniacal foes, and looking really cool while doing so.

Another Lasers & Feelings hack, Chaos & Control adds the use of character types to further differentiate your characters, as well as tokens that can be used to trigger powerful moves unique to your character. For the GM, there's a number of roll-tables to help generate locations, problems, badniks, and so much more.

Rings and Running Shoes, by RingsandRunningShoes.

Welcome to Sonic's World - A universe unique and beyond what you know from the SEGA games! Where, inspired by Sonic and other heroes of the franchise, you and your friends will create a team of heroes that will save the world from the forces of evil!

The system is based on PbtA with heavy modification to fit the care-free power fantasy of Sonic's Adventures, but anyone familiar with the core game, should know the basics. On a very surface level the gameplay loop consists of alternating between "Peace and Quiet" and "Stages" sections. During P&Q your group will rest, prepare for the Stage, roleplay and develop your characters.

One of the benefits for PbtA games is playbooks. Playbooks keep most of the information that a player will need to know in one place, allowing you to choose a character type based on vibes, and then make selections within just the options provided to you. It's excellent for minimizing choice paralysis, and it can make teaching the game simpler, as each player has a number of references to the rules that are specific to their character in front of them at all times.

Mobius, by Ioan Davies-John.

Mobius is a fan-made tabletop wargame based on Archie Comics’ 24-year run of Sonic the Hedgehog, allowing you to fight Large Skirmishes in the gone-but-not-forgotten take on Sonic's World!

It features stats for all your favorite heroes and villains, and rules to suit every play-style from hordes of Eggman Robots to squads of elite Freedom Fighters. There’s an ever-evolving plethora of army books and supplements to represent the many factions within the pages of the world’s most way past cool comic!

Mobius is a tactical wargame, focused on moving little guys around on a map and taking down your opponents. There's plenty of minutiae here for folks who love figuring out what strategies work for them, including various extra rules, as well as 14 different factions to choose from. If you're not sure who you can play this with, the designer has a link to their community discord on their Itch page!

If you want something a little different in theme but similar in spirit, you might interested in Davies-John's other sonic game, a naval wargame set in the same universe: Egg Fleet!

Radical Spin, by Will Uhl (@raffitheowl)

Will you beat your evil twins, stop the robot army, and survive the perils of high school?

Radical Spin is a micro-RPG about melodramatic action animals. Hedgehog heroes, will you beat your evil twins, stop the robot army, and survive the perils of high school? Live out your bad fanfic fantasies today!

I don't know much about this game, but based on what I can find out about it, it seems to be designed to shine when you're exploring Sunday Morning Cartoon-style plots. I'm expecting characters with abilities that are larger than life, as well as a fairly simple rule set that's easy to pick up and learn without much trouble.

You might also be interested in...

My Silly Games recommendation post, which has a link to a Sonic game called Spindash!

I've also got a Ko-Fi account where you can leave me a tip if you like what I do!

[emthimofnight]

would the three failed siblings have different personalities if they were raised by sonic and shadow?, and if so what would their personalities be?

Oh, for sure! Being raised in a positive environment where they aren't pitted against one another would really bring out their best traits. 😁

Void

Eldest brother

Still has low empathy, but is better at relating to others and putting himself in their shoes.

Very logical. Thinks things through far more than his siblings. That being said, he is extremely impulsive when emotional.

The most morally gray out of his siblings, but is still considered a "hero". Shadow worries he is only playing the hero role because it gives him an excuse to fight.

... He really does like fighting.

Definitely the one to suggest murder before anyone else.

Bumps heads with Shadow. Shadow sees a lot of the things he doesn't like about himself in Void, and projects a lot of his personal baggage onto him.

Closer to Sonic, finds his presence to be calming and enjoyable. Sonic knows how to handle Shadow, and therefore better understands how to handle Void.

Patient, protective, but blunt. Will almost ALWAYS tell someone the cold, hard truth, even if it hurts them. There have been many times he's made one of his siblings cry for being "too mean." He doesn't see it that way.

The quietest and least disruptive of his siblings. Spends a lot of time reading.

Andromeda

Eldest sister

Can come across as bratty or vain, but loves her family deeply. Often can't decide if they are the most annoying people in the world, or her favorite.

Still very much a moody teenager, but the normal, non-traumatized amount.

Would be that pretty, popular older sister that Stellar wishes she was more like.

Prefers to stay out of fights, despite her power. Values her appearance greatly and would rather her perfectly preened quills didn't get disturbed. That being said, she has an explosive temper, and won't shy away from punching it out with someone who pisses her off.

Gets along great with Shadow for the most part, but when they disagree, their fights are infamously explosive. Sonic can do little to defuse an argument between the two of them once it has started, so he usually tells the other kids to make some popcorn.

That being said, she, Shadow, and Stellar would often go shopping or to the spa together!

Sonic, on the other hand, would be her favorite dad to chill and watch movies with!

Very protective of her siblings. That type of girl to tease and make fun of her family, but immediately turn on anyone else who does. Those are HER idiots, dammit!

Polarity

Youngest brother (but still older than Stellar!!)

Playful, witty, and clever. No one thinks of faster comebacks than he does!

A LOT like Sonic, but with a softer edge. Has less of his bold-faced confidence.

Sporty and active, but also a huge nerd. LOVES comic books!

Fastest runner out of his siblings, period.

Due to having a lot of the same interests, Sonic and Polarity would spend a lot of time together! The two of them would have a lot of inside jokes and running bits. Polarity would want to be just like him!

The most eager to be a great hero out of his siblings.

Despite his closeness with Sonic, he is not missing any love from Shadow. It would seem that all the things Shadow likes about Sonic, he likes about Polarity. Shadow clearly has a favorite between his two sons.

Polarity and Stellar are the only two people who know how to make Shadow laugh consistently.

Polarity and Stellar are also the most alike among the siblings! The two of them are super close. Unfortunately for Polarity, being around Stellar seems to make him dumber. There is only one brain cell between the two of them when they are left to their own devices.

His antagonistic relationship with Void isn't present here! The two of them get along fine, even if Polarity isn't particularly close to him. If anything, he wishes the two of them did more stuff together.

[thelargefrye]

BECAUSE I'M HIM ... mature one - shot (21+) | PART I

pairing : supe!ateez x supe!villain!f!reader ( ft. supe!villain!sanhwa x supe!villain!f!reader )

genre : dark, mature, heroes and villains, demon slayer x mha inspired, angst

word count : 24k

warnings : language, a lot... a LOT of fight scenes 😮‍💨, death / murder, blood / body gore, suicide, choking, attempted murder, the government wouldn't do that to you - oh yes they would, mass killing (a whole island gets wiped out – not in detail and only mentioned), MAJOR character deaths, cannibalism (kind of), mention human sacrifice, any korean that appears might be inaccurate

smut warnings : unprotected sex, pain kink, wound... fingering (I CAN EXPLAIN), handjob

listen to the official soundtrack here

note : for topaz's @sanjoongie YOTV collab – had so much fun planning this and writing it, thank you for allowing me to be apart of this collab and i hope you enjoy it! please make sure to check out the other fics for this collab with the masterlist!

also thank you to @anyamaris for letting me word vomit this to you!

with the hero association struggling to take down the villain alliance, they and the government force death row villains to team up with some of the world's greatest heroes in order to hunt down and defeat them. you are one of those villains.

ACT I: THE FINAL SELECTION

maximum security prison – interrogation room – day

the briefing room was sterile and cold. not only that but filled with tension that it could be easily cut with a knife. the seven heroes in the room along with the two hero association agents stood in a line, waiting. their hero uniforms were sharp and pristine – like they had never experienced being in a fight before. some of them exchanged wary glances, waiting for their captain to speak up. 

some of the wary glances focus on said captain, hongjoong, as he lets out an annoyed sigh, arms crossed and a scowl on his face, “i still think this is a mistake. we don’t need some damn villains on our team.” 

“maybe we should hear the reasoning first,” jongho says calmly as he leans against the wall and gestures to the two agents who are whispering amongst themselves, “they must have a plan after all.” 

wooyoung let out an annoyed tsk at the youngest member’s words, “seriously? whose bright idea was it to bring in villains? we’re supposed to be heroes, not babysitters.” 

“or they’re just desperate,” yeosang sounds a little skeptical before he’s glancing at yunho, “yunho, you… you knew y/n, didn’t you? before you became a hero?” 

“yeah. we… we grew up together. went to school together too,” he answers, his body stiffening slightly at the mention of you and your… past together. 

“and you’re only bringing that up now? feels like a pretty important detail,” wooyoung says, looking at yunho was a raised eyebrow. he was suspicious of why yunho would exclude ever telling the team this information. 

the top hero looks at wooyoung, “it’s not relevant. that was years ago,” he says, defensively, but why? was he trying to defend himself or you? 

“not relevant?” hongjoong speaks up this time, “you sure about that? she turned into a villain, killed a bunch of people at vanguard, yunho. makes me wonder if you missed the warning signs back then.” 

yunho clenches his fist, eyes shooting a glare at his captain, but mingi steps in, “alright, that’s enough. no reason to randomly start pointing fingers.” 

wooyoung turns his head, “still doesn’t mean this is right. we shouldn’t be working with people who are on fucking death row of all things,” he says under his breath. 

“we don’t have to like it, but you know the villain alliance is escalating. if bringing in these three gives us an edge, we can’t afford to turn it down.” 

“of course you would be on the side of bringing the villains in, yeosang,” wooyoung says, eyes glaring at his friend, teammate, “just because they have dark powers like yours doesn’t mean they are like you.” yeosang’s ears burn a bright red as his eyes look down to the floor, avoiding the others uneasy glances.

the tension in the room hangs heavy, with yunho shifting uncomfortably as the others cast sidelong glances at him. the door opens, breaking the moment and yunho internally sighs in relief, as the three villains – seonghwa, san, and you – are escorted inside by armed guards. your gray prison uniforms are a stark contrast to the heroes’ pristine, clean ones. yunho’s eyes focus in on the thick collars around your necks, a dim, red light pulsing faintly – prisoner control devices. you are further restrained with a sleek, heavy, metal helmet that entirely covers your head and face. yunho is sure that you can’t see out of it at all. 

“this is ridiculous. putting them on our team?” hongjoong says once more, scowl growing even deeper. 

“by order of the hero association, you’re to work together,” one of the agents said, fixing their glasses, “the villain alliance is escalating – demon appearances are increasing, dangerously, you’ll need their help. villains are better suited to take down other villains afterall.” 

your head tilts slightly, sensing the hostility in the room despite being unable to see it. seonghwa and san exchange quick glances, their body language guarded. 

“this is a bad idea. they’re basically just as dangerous as the demons,” jongho whispers quietly from the other side of yunho. 

“we don’t have a choice,” yunho says back, trying his best to sound neutral; however, he can’t tear his eyes away from you. all he can do is picture you from six years ago, before the hero association and public claimed you to be one of the worst villains alive. 

the other agent steps forward, their presence commanding attention as they begin to speak, “we’ve gathered intel that the villain alliance has been growing exponentially with more and more demons popping up. they are also reported to have a ranking system with the top demons known as the twelve moons. these twelve demons are the alliance’s most strongest aside from their leader – nicha yontararak, is powerful. we don’t know the exact extent of her powers yet. which is why these three,” they say pointing to you and the other two villains, “are some of our strongest villains we have on death row. they’ve… agreed to cooperate.” 

wooyoung can’t help but let out a snicker at the agent’s words, “‘agreed’? pretty sure those collars say otherwise.” 

“as if we want to help you all. i would rather happily stay in my cell and watch you all fail miserably,” san snaps back sharply. 

wooyoung steps forward, jaw clenched, “big words for someone in cuffs.” 

“careful, hero. the collars don’t stop us from speaking,” seonghwa says, his voice the complete opposite of san’s. like fire and ice. 

you remain silent, your head shifting slightly as if trying your best to track the conversation. the helmet not only robs you of your sight, but also most of your hearing. your restrained demeanor makes you an enigmatic presence amongst the three villains. 

“enough. we’re all here for the same reason,” yeosang says calmly, trying to de-escalate the situation before it grew even more hostile. was that even possible? he surely didn’t want to find out. 

“speak for yourself,” hongjoong scoffs.

the first agent speaks up again, “this isn’t up for debate. the decision is final. get them integrated into the team.” the guards step back but remain close, their hands on their weapons as if waiting for either villains or heroes to make the wrong move. the two agents turn to leave but the second one pauses at the door. 

“one last thing. these collars can and will neutralize them if they step out of line. you have our full authorization to engage them if necessary, captain hongjoong.” the agents exits the room, leaving a thick silence behind. the room feels suffocating with unspoken tension. 

“so, will you actually be able to help us? or is this just an eventual setup?” jongho asks, looking towards the villains. 

“we were in prison, not their meetings,” seonghwa deadpans at the youngest hero, “do we look like demons to you?” 

yunho finds himself stepping closer to you, “y/n? how… how have you been?” his voice is quiet and he cringes at how he sounds. why the hell would he ask you that? of course you haven’t been good, you’ve been in prison. 

you don’t answer him; however, choosing to remain silent which causes hongjoong to let out a laugh as if to ridicule yunho. yunho casts a quick glance at you. his jaw tightens, an unfamiliar guilt gnawing at him. he shifts uncomfortably, wondering if things could’ve been different – if he had done more, maybe tried harder to help you all those years ago. his fingers curl into fists before he looks away, swallowing his thoughts. 

“don’t waste your breath, yunho. she doesn’t care about any of this,” hongjoong says. 

san steps forward, tension rolling off his form, “watch your mouth,” he threatens with a clenched jaw. 

“or what?” hongjoong asks with a cold smile, “you can’t do anything without your leash.” 

before things could escalate further, mingi steps between them, raising his hands in a calming gesture. “we’re supposed to be working together. let’s not start killing each other before the real fight.” 

seonghwa places a hand on san’s shoulder, guiding him back a step. you tilt your head slightly, as if observing the dynamics despite your blindness. 

“this is going well,” yeosang says softly, the tension clearly making him on edge. 

“it’s gonna get worse,” wooyoung mutters. 

“then we’d better figure it out fast. the villain alliance isn’t going to wait for us to get along,” jongho says seriously as he looks around. 

ateez compound – common room – evening

the ateez compound is probably the nicest facility you’ve ever seen. its sleek in design and filled with every necessity a hero team might need and more: training rooms, living quarters, a common area with large couches, a television that actually worked, and a kitchen off to the side. the atmosphere, however, is anything but welcoming, you conclude. 

you sit in the corner of the common room, back against the wall, and your head finally free of that damn helmet that you had been forced to wear for six years in prison. seonghwa leans on the arm of one of the long couches, observing the room with an icy, detached look. san, sits cross-legged on the floor, tossing a small ball against the wall and catching it repeatedly. the three of you remain isolated, a rather stark contrast to the other heroes clustered together on the other side of the room. 

the air on the other side of the common area is heavy with an uneasy mix of silence and tension. hongjoong stands by the large window that overlooks the surrounding outside area of the compound, arms crossed, his sharp gaze darting towards the three villains every few seconds. his eyes stay on you a little longer, taking in your calm yet unreadable face. wooyoung leans against the wall near him, arms folded tightly, while yeosang and mingi quietly watch from the kitchen. 

jongho watches everyone from his spot on the other couch that isn’t occupied by seonghwa. yunho, perched on the edge of a chair, keeps glancing at you but says nothing. 

“i still can’t believe we have to live with them. it’s like inviting a time bomb into your house,” hongjoong grimaces. 

“more like three. pretty sure those collars won’t stop them if they decide to go rogue,” wooyoung snickers from beside him. 

“you don’t know that. maybe this could work if we actually tried,” mingi said, a little louder than he intended. hongjoong shifts his gaze to mingi, eyebrows raised. 

“tried? they’re not here to make friends, mingi. they’re here because the association thinks villains killing villains is easier than us doing it.” 

“it doesn’t mean they can’t be allies. everyone starts somewhere,” yeosang says calmly. 

wooyoung rolls his eyes at the red-haired hero’s words, “dark powers stick together, huh?” yeosang doesn’t respond to the obvious bait, but his jaw tightens. meanwhile, you tilt your head slightly, almost like you were listening. 

san catches his ball with an annoyed sigh, “we can hear you, you know.” he says flatly. 

“good,” wooyoung responds mockingly, “saves me the trouble of repeating myself.” 

“you’re very brave when you’re surrounded by your friends,” you suddenly speak up, breaking your silence. the room goes quiet at your words. this is the first time any of them have heard you speak and it sends an uneasy shiver down the heroes’ spines as you narrow your eyes over at wooyoung. an unexplainable energy feels like his chest when you make eye contact, and he opens his mouth to respond, but hongjoong puts a hand on his arm, shaking his head. the tension is palpable. 

the setting sun is the only thing warming the otherwise cold room, painting the usually white walls with an orange glow to it. 

ateez compound – rooftop – later that night

the rooftop of the compound offers a great view of the surrounding forest. you can see the city in the distance, the skyline blinking and it reminds you of the stars that are in the sky. yeosang stands at the edge, leaning on the railing looking out at said skyline. you join him, your movements quiet. 

“couldn’t sleep?” you ask, opting to not look at yeosang, but you could tell he was distracted. 

“no.” 

“figured,” you said, smirking lightly, “i guess the compound’s not as relaxing as it usually is, huh?”

yeosang doesn’t respond immediately. you shift a little, looking from him to the city where his eyes are. 

“do they… hate you too?” you asked quietly, as if you were worried that someone unwanted would overhear you. 

“what?” yeosang finally looks at you, a look of surprise on his face. 

“the others. your powers are different. they must notice.”

yeosang lets out an awkward cough as he considers your words for a moment, then shrugs. “i’ve gotten used to it. people are scared of what they don’t understand. it’s easier to focus on appearances instead.” 

“the public loves appearances more than powers,” you said absentmindedly and yeosang can’t help but agree. you hear him take a breath, like he was going to say something, but changes his mind. “what? just ask what you want.” 

“the helmet.”

“what about it?”

“why were you wearing it?”

“it was a security measure. the association learned that it was harder for me to use my powers if i couldn’t see, so… bye-bye sight,” you explain to him and yeosang frowns at your words. 

“the… hero association isn’t bad are they?” he asks and you remain quiet for a few moments before letting out a sigh. 

“not to you maybe, but i am what they label as a villain,” you say with a dry laugh. “so… yeah.” 

“right,” he says with a nod before he’s watching you step away from the edge and back towards the door. 

“make sure you get some sleep, yeosang, good night,” you say, leaving yeosang alone once again. 

“good night, y/n.”

ateez compound – training room – morning

the training room is dimly lit, walls lined with weapons and dummies. seonghwa is sitting on the floor, stretching, while yeosang practices his summoning abilities nearby. dark shadows twist and coil around him, taking the form of skeletal figures. you lean against the wall, watching yeosang’s power with mild interest. 

“so they kept you in solitary confinement?” yeosang asks, looking over to where you are leaning against the wall. 

“they didn’t trust me to not use my powers on the other prisoners,” you say rather flatly. 

“must have been… isolating,” he says with a small nod. 

your expression flickers for a moment before you shrug, “isolations not so bad when the company’s worse.”

seonghwa snorts softly, but there’s tension in his posture. jongho enters the room, his presence grounding. he surveys the scene before turning his attention to you. 

“they’re not wrong to be cautious. you’re powerful,” he says. 

“careful, jongho. almost sounds like a compliment,” you say with a smirk. 

“just an observation, but power doesn’t mean anything without control.���

seonghwa’s eyes flicker to you, a shadow of concern in his expression. before anyone can respond, yeosang’s shadowy figure lunges towards a dummy, striking it with force. the sound echoes, breaking the tension.

“you ever think about what you’d be doing if you weren’t here? if things were different?” yeosang asks rather casually that it almost makes you laugh at how easy-going and innocent his demeanor is. 

you hesitate, your gaze turning hazing and distant for a moment, “sometimes. doesn’t change anything, though.” 

seonghwa exchanges a glance with jongho, unspoken thoughts hanging heavy in the air. 

ateez compound – outdoor training grounds – day

the outdoor training grounds are sprawling, surrounded by high fences in order to protect the compound from any unwanted visitors and allow its residents to easily overlook the gray sky. you and yunho are standing opposite each other on the sparring mat, the rest of the team watching from the sidelines. hongjoong has said that him and the others should get a feel of what they are working with when it comes to you, seonghwa, and san. of course, you know he thinks he’s just wasting his time. if wooyoung not voicing the fact loudly didn’t tell you anything. 

“you ready?” yunho asks awkwardly, but when is he not awkward with you? 

“always,” you reply flatly. 

the two of you begin sparring, your movements sharp and calculated. yunho hesitates, his strikes lacking conviction and passion. you take advantage of this, knocking him off balance. 

“what’s wrong, number one hero? afraid to hit me?” you taunt him. 

yunho regains his footing, his jaw tightening, “of course not,” he says defensively. he lungs forward, but you counter effortlessly, your power flickering subtly around you – small bouts of red lightning appearing. yunho falters, his mind clouded with static. flashes of a memory – unclear and fragmented – flicker in his mind. he stumbles, clutching his head. 

you pause, brows furrowing, “yunho?” 

before you can approach, mingi’s voice cuts through the haze. “yunho! you okay?” yunho straightens, shaking off the disorientation.

“i’m fine,” he says, brushing it off like nothing happened. 

you step back, your expression guarded. the sparring session resumes, but the tension is heavier now. yunho is more aggressive in his movements, as if trying to prove something, but your skills thankfully keep you ahead. 

“enough! this isn’t a fight to the death,” hongjoong says from the sidelines.

yunho steps back, breathing heavily. you lower your guard, gaze lingering on him. “you’re holding back,” you say quietly. 

yunho doesn’t respond, turning away. the team disperses, the unresolved tension hanging over them like a storm cloud. 

ateez compound – common room – evening

mingi and yeosang are playing a game of cards at the table while seonghwa reads a book on the couch nearby. san lounges not too far from him, watching the game with mild interest. you sit in the corner by the window, eyes glued to the nature surrounding the compound. a flock of crows fly by and they have you entranced for a moment. 

“you’re terrible at this,” mingi says to yeosang with a large grin on his face. 

“i’m letting you win,” yeosang deadpans back at the light-user. 

you glance away from the window, your gaze flickering between them and their cards. 

“he cheats, you know,” you say, directing your words to yeosang. the handsome hero looks towards his teammate with wide, shocked eyes which makes mingi gasps, feigning offense. 

“i do not!” he shrieks out, this causes san to chuckle from his seat as seonghwa looks up from his book, a faint smirk on his face. you know moments of peace like this are brief, but you can’t help but feel this is a small step towards a hopeful unity. 

if only the others were like mingi and yeosang…  

ateez compound – training room – night

you’ve grown use to hearing the hum of the machinery in the training room over the short amount of time you’ve been here. it echoing and bouncing off the walls and sparring mats. you stood near the edge of the large sparring mat, back against the wall with seonghwa next to you. his arms crossed and his shoulder brushing against yours as he whispers quiet words into your ear. the quiet promises of something later making you let out a small smile. 

san sits across from you all on the floor, stretching, his broad shoulders even more prominent in the black tank top he’s wearing. he can’t help the soft grin that graces his lips as he watches you and seonghwa. “that definitely looks like training.”  

you turn to look at the blood user, grinning softly, “i think we’ve had enough training for one day.”

seonghwa hums in agreement, tilting his head towards you slightly, “i agree. i’d rather just be here.” 

san lets out a chuckle, rising to his feet and stepping closer to the two of you. he stops just next to you, his hands brushing lightly over your arms and it sends a chill down your spine. 

“i think you look better when you’re not fighting,” san teases, making you laugh. 

“i don’t fight all the time,” you say, rolling your eyes a little bit at his words, “you were always the one starting fights in prison. i was too busy being held in solitary confinement.”

“and you only came out when they threw san in,” seonghwa says, making san send a glare over the other male. 

you notice seonghwa watches you and san with a calm expression, eyes soften as you can’t help but rest your forehead gently against san’s. you feel the shapeshifter’s finger tracing up your back, neck – over the damn death collar, and under your chin before he’s turning your face to look at him. 

“hwa…” you call out his name softly and it feels unreal almost. like the three of you weren’t villains, but just… normal people. “i don’t know what i’d do without you both,” you add quietly as you feel seonghwa’s arms slip around your waist. seonghwa’s grip is both grounding and gentle as he pulls you towards him. you feel san pressing a light kiss to your hair and you feel your heart speed up from how close to the males are. 

you haven’t been this close to them in a while and it felt nice. 

seonghwa draws your attention back to him as his hand comes to brush along your cheek, lifting your chin slightly as his lips connect with yours. san hovers behind you, sandwiching you between the two, his hands resting lighting on your hips and slipping underneath your shirt, and tracing small circles into your skin. 

the moment stretches, tender and unguarded, and for now you forget about the hero association, the villain alliance, hongjoong’s aggressive attitude, and even yunho’s avoid eyes. you felt normal. your fingers curl gently into seonghwa’s shirt to pull him closer to you – if that was even possible. san presses his forehead against your shoulder and you feel his lips press into your skin. 

from the shadows of the door, yunho stands frozen in place. his eyes watching the intimacy between you three and he can’t help the twist in his gut at the sight. his fists clench, unclench, clench again at his sides as an unfamiliar mix of emotions flickering through him.

the room blurs slightly, but yunho can’t find it in him to look away. like he refuses to look away. heart pounding in his ears when seonghwa presses his lips to yours once more, san’s thumb grazing over your bandaged, healing skin with a sort of tenderness yunho didn’t even realize the blood user even had. 

a faint static hum fills yunho’s mind. his vision distorts – flashes of static along with something distant and obscured flicker across his thoughts. he grips the doorway, feeling his breath hitch as sweat builds along his hairline. a vague image – your face, slightly younger and laughing, suddenly blurs into focus for a split second, only to fade back into the static. 

his breath shudders as the static fragments slip away, leaving a dull ache in its wake. yunho’s knuckles whiten against the frame as his mind reels in so many directions.

“y…ho? yun…? yunho? you good?” mingi’s sudden voice snaps yunho out of his daze and grounds him. 

the top hero stiffens a little, blinking as he turns to see his friend approaching him. yunho clears his throat and steps away from the doorway, not wanting mingi to find out he was spying on you three. 

shaking the lingering ache from his mind, “yeah, i’m fine.” a fake smile appears on his face, and he hopes that mingi buys it. 

“you sure?” he asks, eyes studying him and a frown faintly appearing, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

yunho forces a laugh, his smile still not reaching his eyes as he nods, “just tired.” his gaze shifts back towards the training room, thoughts lingering on the villains one last time. the warmth you all seem to share feels distant, like something yunho can’t reach. 

as yunho walks past mingi and down the hall, his expression hardens, but the flicker of the static memory lingers. haunting and incomplete. his fingers brush briefly over his temple, the ache refusing to fade. 

outskirts of seoul – itaewon district – night 

the nine of you stand together at the edge of the seemingly desolate district. the supposedly once lively streets are eerily silent. when briefed about the mission originally, you were expecting to see at least some people hiding in their homes, away from the villain that is terrorizing the district. however, this place was completely deserted: broken windows, overturned cars, and abandoned belongings create an unsettling atmosphere that sends an unwanted chill down your spine. a flickering streetlight buzzes faintly in the distance and you think it only adds to unsettling tension. 

hongjoong stands at the front of the group, his eyes scanning the area, “stay sharp. something’s not right here,” he says and you all nod. despite how much you don’t like hongjoong for how hostile he’s been, you have to hand it to him that he takes his captain role seriously in cases like this. 

“it’s too quiet. no birds, no wind… nothing,” yeosang says, frown evident on his face as he also looks around. 

you all continue to walk cautiously down the street. mingi kneels down next to an abandoned bicycle, the handlebars bent and smeared with blood. “whatever happened here wasn’t long ago,” he says, looking from the bicycle to you and the others. 

suddenly, a low clicking noise echoes through the streets. everyone freezes.

“what the hell was that?” yunho asks, tensing as he clenches his fists. you look around nervously, your breath visible in the cold air. when did it suddenly get so cold?

“probably a rat,” wooyoung snickers, but you can tell he’s trying to hide his nerves, “or maybe y/n’s shadow creeping around.” you shoot him a sharp glare, but choose to say nothing. you refuse to waste your breath on him and his snide remarks. 

“that’s no rat,” seonghwa whispers, eyes narrowing. 

the clicking grows louder, accompanied by the sound of something wet and slithering. the sounds fill your senses as you and the team move cautiously toward the sound, weapons ready. as you turn a corner, that’s when you come across the horrific thing – a man (or what looked like a man) crouched over a pile of corpses, tearing into the flesh of his victims as blood pools around him at his feet. 

you couldn’t help but let out a gasp when the man’s head suddenly snapped towards your group. no… it wasn’t man, at least not anymore, you concluded. his face had been morphed into something similar to a spider. several beady eyes and fangs protruding from his mouth, his limbs were also similar to that of a spider – long and spindly limbs which you figure made it easier for the creature to tear into flesh. 

“what the fuck?” jongho grimaced, gripping his fist as the spider monster stood to his full height and let out a hiss.  

“it’s a demon! be careful!” you shouted right as the demon lunged for mingi who used his light powers in defense. the demon stopped in his tracks, shielding his eyes, he let out another shrieking hiss before he’s jumping back and away into the shadows. 

“why the hell is there a demon here?” jongho asks, eyes wide in surprise which matches the rest of your faces. 

“i don’t know, but i have a feeling he’s not the only one here,” hongjoong says, eyes locking onto the pile of corpses the demon was just eating from. “let’s split up, this is no longer just a regular investigation mission.” 

outside itaewon district – forest – night

you and wooyoung run through the dark forest, the sound of your footsteps are muffled by the damp earth beneath you. the trees are dense, casting long, twisted shadows in the dim moonlight. 

“we should’ve stayed with the others. i don’t trust you watching my back,” wooyoung snarls out from slightly ahead of you. 

“don’t worry, wooyoung. i wouldn’t trust me either,” you say, rolling your eyes.

wooyoung opens his mouth to retort but stops short of his remark when you both stumble into a clearing. a woman wearing a white kimono stands in the center, strands of silk coming out of her fingers and you notice she’s manipulating them. this must be the demon controlling the other spider demons. her eyes are closed, so it's hard to tell if she’s noticed you and wooyoung yet. 

“this must be the main demon,” you whisper to wooyoung who nods in agreement. “we kill her and the others should die as well.” 

an eerily smile then stretches onto the woman’s face, eyes snapping open and you notice that instead of regular pupils she instead has 하위다섯 – lower five – written on her eyes. “ah~ fresh prey. how delightful~ you both will be perfect additions to my family,” she says, words dripping from her mouth. 

wooyoung lets out a tsk, “let’s see how delightful you find this,” he says, raising both hands and allowing both of them to easily be engulfed in ice and flames. 

“she’s with the villain alliance, be careful!” you say, but wooyoung seems to ignore your warning as he unleashes streams of fire and ice, weaving them together to attack the woman. the villain lungs for wooyoung, spider limbs ripping from her back and you watch as she easily dodges all of wooyoung’s attacks. her inhuman agility easily gives the hero a run for his money. 

that’s when you notice her fingers, moving and invisible silk strings glimmering slightly in the moonlight. you suck in a breath when you realize that you and wooyoung have walked right into her web. you summon a sword with your powers, shimmering red as you grip it tightly in your hold, charging at the spider villain. 

you manage to cut down one of her spider limbs, black blood spraying the area around while some of it lands on your arm. you let out a hiss as the blood starts to burn. acid. her blood was acidic thanks to her powers. she lets out another hiss before directing her attention towards you now. your blade gleaming in the moonlight. the two of you clash violently, the sound of steel meeting hardened exoskeleton rings through the forest air. the woman retaliates, one of her bladed limbs slicing across your arm, drawing blood. 

wooyoung suddenly appears from your peripheral, left fist covered in ice as he manages to strike her, freezing the part that wooyoung made contact with. you use wooyoung as a distraction, slashing through the silk strands before countering a powerful swing from one of her spider limbs. 

“you’re not walking away from this,” wooyoung hisses out before attacking her again with his ice powers. the villain grits her teeth, silk strands whip out, wrapping around your arm and yanking you forward. 

“you’re wasting your potential with these weaklings,” she says, gripping your face tightly as another strand of silk catches your other arm. you feel the strands digging into your skin and slowly dripping down your arms. “join my family.”

“not… a chance,” you hissed out before managing to headbut the villain and knocking her away. wooyoung burns the strands that held you, and you turn to give him a nod before you snap your attention back to the villain.  

she lets out a high-pitched scream that shakes the trees around the clearing. her eyes begin to transform into a darker red color, teeth sharpening as the strands attached to her fingers turn a blood red. 

“i am sakura, lower rank five of the twelve moons. servant to lady nicha, creator of the demons and leader of the villain alliance, and i will make sure to kill you all and bring your heads back to her on a plate!” sakura hisses out as her remaining spider limbs hoist her up above you and wooyoung. 

you brace your sword while wooyoung stands next to you, both fire and ice at the ready. “like to see you try, spider-bitch.” 

outside itaewon district – deeper in the forest – night

yunho and san run through the forest, breathing uneven from both villain and hero as they rush into the clearing. they manage to arrive just as you and wooyoung struggle to subdue sakura. the villain’s grotesque, spider-like form creating dangerous shadow-like figures under the moonlight, her bladed limbs slicing through the air with deadly precision. 

“we’re here!” yunho shouts as him and san rush forward, “hold her off!” 

“about time! she’s a damn nightmare!” wooyoung says through gritted teeth as he dodges one of sakura’s limbs. 

sakura lets out an inhuman screech, her silk strands snapping like whips towards the group. you counter, slashing the threads mid-air with your glowing sword, but more strands follow, faster and more aggressive than the previous ones. 

“she’s not slowing down!” you shout, dodging and slashing at several strands. so many are coming at once that you don’t even notice more of them coming from behind; however, san does. he plants his feet firmly, his blood tendrils lashing out like crimson blades, slicing through the silk strands. he extends a sharp tendril forward, wrapping it around one of sakura’s legs, and yanks her off balance. 

“i’ve got her! go!” san shouts and you nod rushing towards the villain, blade raised high in the air, but sakura twists unnaturally, snapping san’s blood tendrils with her powerful limbs. she leaps into the air, flipping away from the males and lands directly in front of you. sakura thrusts one of her bladed limbs towards your chest. you dodge, but not fast enough – sakura’s limb slices across your upper arm, drawing blood. 

you let out a hiss as you roll away from her, “fucking hell,” you mutter, glaring at the spider villain who has a malicious smile stretching across her face. 

you easily shrug off the pain, swinging your sword with calculated fury, sparks flying as the blade clashes against sakura’s hardened limbs. each strike grows more vicious, the forest ground beneath you splattered with dirt, blood, and silk. 

yunho then comes rushing in, “stay back, y/n!” he barrels into sakura with his shoulder, sending her sprawling to the ground. he stands in front of you, his fists flowing faintly with energy. 

“a hero protecting a villain? how sweet. too bad i’ll have to kill you both!” sakura snarls out tauntingly. she then lunges, her blades arms spinning in a flurry of strikes. yunho ducks and counters, landing a glowing punch that sends her reeling. 

“now!” yunho shouts to san who nods. 

san forms a massive spear from both his own blood and what’s already been spilled and hurls it with deadly precision. it impales sakura’s shoulder, pinning her to a tree. he then hurls several smaller ones into her body to keep her from trying to get free. 

“do it now! take her down before she gets free!” san shouts urgently to you. you sprint forward, sword glowing brighter as your power surges. but sakura, even pinned, refuses to go down easily it seems. she lets out a screech and pulls herself free, shattering the tree behind her and even leaving several large holes in her body. 

“you’ll have to try harder than that!” sakura snarls with a laugh. 

“how the fuck is she still alive?!” wooyoung shouts, annoyed. 

“you have to aim for the neck when it comes to demons,” yunho tells him. 

suddenly, sakura summons more spider demons, their grotesque forms crawling from the shadows of the forest. all bearing a striking resemblance to sakura herself. wooyoung steps up, unleashing a fiery explosion that engulfs several of them.

“i’ve got the small ones. you three handle her!” he shouts before having two more spider demons engulfed in flames with loud screeches. 

san and yunho close in on sakura, attacking in unison. san uses his blood tendrils to ensnare her limbs, while yunho lands precise strikes on her half regenerated torso, forcing her back. 

sakura leaps into the trees, her movements becoming even more fast and erratic. you follow her, launching herself into the air with a burst of power. 

“you’re not getting away!” you shout, swinging your sword mid-air, narrowly missing sakura as the villain flips backward. they land in a small clearing, separated from the others. 

sakura smirks, her bladed limbs ready for another attack, “you’re persistent, but you’re just a pawn, same as me.” 

“we are nothing alike,” you say, gritting your teeth and charging again, sword blazing. you land a powerful slash across sakura’s abdomen, black blood spilling onto the ground and just barely missing you. sakura screams in rage and pain, movements becoming more erratic and less precise. 

yunho and san catch up, cornering sakura from opposite sides. san skewers one of her limbs with his blood tendrils, holding her in place, while yunho delivers a devastating punch to her mid section, you even hear her exoskeleton cracking. 

“we need to immobilize her! take her into custody for the hero association!” yunho shouts to you. you approach sakura, sword trembling in your hands from the amount of energy this fight has taken. that’s when your eyes meet sakura’s. 

you see a wave of panic flood her eyes as she begins struggling to free herself. “kill me! you have to kill me!” her voice desperate and pleading. it catches the three of you off guard at her sudden tone change. 

“what?” you say, sword gripped tightly in your hand. 

“she’ll find me! lady nicha will do worse than death! please, just kill me!” her words screaming and bouncing off the trees surrounding the clearing. 

you hesitate, sword hovering at sakura’s neck. the conflict in your eyes is clear as sakura’s pleas echo in your ears. her pleas sounding hauntingly familiar to those you have heard before. 

yunho notices the hesitation in your stance, “y/n, don’t hesitate– 

before anyone can act, sakura seizes your sword with her remaining limb and makes a clean swipe at her neck. the blade cuts through her neck, head being severed from her body as they both collapse, lifeless. blood sprays across your body, her blood staining your face and hands. 

you stand frozen, staring at sakura’s body. “she… she killed herself,” you whisper, shaken at the sight. 

san steps forward in an attempt to comfort you, his expression softening. “y/n, it's not your fault– 

you flinch and push him away, stumbling back. you turn to face both san and yunho with wide and shaken eyes. yunho stares at your bloodied face, “y/n–

suddenly, yunho grabs his head, a sharp pain overtaking him as his vision fills with static, distorted images flashing before his eyes. he sees fragments of you, blood across your face, but instead of fear you look almost… emotionless. dead. 

“no…” he groans, clutching his head in pain, “not again.” he collapses to his knees right as wooyoung joins the three in the clearing. he rushes up to yunho, panic on his face as he shakes his shoulder. 

“yunho! what’s happening?” the elemental hero asks, voice also full of panic. 

yunho doesn’t respond, his mind consumed by the visions. meanwhile, you still remain frozen, staring at your blood-covered hands. the clearing is silent except for the rustling of the wind and the faint distant calls of the others calling for their four teammates and the cawing of a single crow.

infinity castle – ██████

the infinity castle groaned with restless energy, its every moving labyrinth walls shifting in different patterns under the glow of several thousand orange lanterns. at the heart of it all, lady nicha stood on a platform, exuding a dominance that was godlike. 

karina, seated beside her with her bipa resting gracefully in her lap, plucked a melancholic melody from its strings. the mournful tune filled the endless castle dimension, heavy and foreboding, stirring unease in the very air. 

“karina. call them.”

without a word, karina’s fingers plucked a singular cord. several hanok doors appeared, sliding open and summoning the lower rank moons. one-by-one they stood on the platform above nicha, her cold gaze watching them intently. they all knelt down, heads bowed low, trembling beneath the weight of nicha’s presence and stare. 

the woman surveyed them with disdain, her eyes narrowing as she looked over them. her voice, calm but laced with venom, shattered the silence. “sakura was killed. why is it that you demons in the lower ranks are so utterly weak? the upper ranks of the twelve moons have remained unchanged. how many times have you been replaced?”

that’s easy for you to say, but we… one of the lower moons thought. 

“that’s easy for you to say, but we…” nicha says, repeating the demon’s thoughts. “what? go ahead and say it.” her eyes piercing down at the lower moon with her red eyes. 

i’m screwed! they thought, body trembling.  

“screwed how?” 

the air grew impossibly cold, the shadows on the walls twisting with sudden ferocity. her expression darkened, her crimson eyes gleaming with a silent fury. suddenly, a grotesque tendril appeared and attacked the lower moon, raising him upside down in the air. his eyes wide in fear, but had no opportunity to scream as the tendril shredded through him. blood pooling down blew and covering both the platform and remaining lower moons. 

nicha then turns her attention to one of the other lower moons, “every time you cross paths with a hero you run. the only thing on your mind is to escape it's an embarrassment to the villain alliance.”

the demon immediately began trying to explain herself, saying how she repeatedly puts her life on the line for lady nicha and her cause. 

“are you… calling me a liar?” nicha’s voice reverberates through the chamber, each syllable a knife carving into the demon’s hysteric composure. the music from karina’s bipa continued to play with a sharper edge. the grotesque tendril immediately crushed the lower moon with its weight. her blood spraying the remaining three lower moons with blood. 

before nicha could continue her slaughter on the lower moons, the lower third suddenly dashes away. his demon speed taking him away from the platform he was originally summoned on and further into the infinity castle. 

the only option is to run! he thought as he jumped from one sideways roof to another. 

a sudden slash was heard before the lower moon’s head was clutched in nicha’s head, dripping blood as his dead eyes stared at the remaining too. 

“i believe the twelve moons are better off consisting of just the upper ranks. i am now dismantling the lower ranks.”

nicha then effortlessly tosses the severed head down onto the other platform. the head hitting the wooden ground with a thump! and rolling slightly before coming to a sudden stop. 

“do you have any last words?”

“i can still be of use to you, lady nicha! if you were to just give me more of your blood then–

“what makes you think you can order me to give you my blood?”

“you misunderstand! you misunderstand!”

“shut up. i misunderstand nothing. i’m never mistaken about anything. my word is absolute,” nicha’s eyes began to glow as she continued to look at the lower moon, “you tried to tell me what to do, yet you are the worthless one. you deserve to die.” 

lower moon one, yena, is suddenly the only one left, her face covered in the blood of her previous fellow lower moons. yet, she continues to look up at lady nicha with more adoration than fear. eyes glazed over. 

“do you have any last words?” nicha asks, looking at the demon. 

“if i am to die by your hand, my lady, then i am honored~ you have given me everything. my strength, my purpose… my life. if i am unworthy, than i would rather die by your hand than live in disgrace~” 

nicha paused, her fury momentarily eclipsed by curiosity. her crimson eyes narrowed as she regarded the unshaken demon. 

“honored, are you?” the dimension fell silent. but the silence didn’t last long when a fleshy, grotesque tendril came down from above and stabbed yena in the neck. injecting the lower moon with some of nicha’s blood. yena suddenly fell to the floor and began to thrash and convulse, letting out a guttural cry. 

“that’s what i like to hear~” nicha said, a faint cold smile twitching upon her lips for a split second. she seemed to gain some sick satisfaction at watching yena convulse on the ground beneath her. “i’ll give you an ample share of my blood. make yourself useful to me, then. if you kill the female villain who works with the heroes then i will give you even more of my blood. failure is not an option.” 

yena could only let out a gurgled noise in response. karina plucked several notes on her bipa. with each note a hanok door appeared and shut, separating nicha from yena who struggled on the ground. one final note plucked and a door appeared underneath yena, opening and whisking her away and back to wherever she was prior.

ACT II: MUHAN TRAIN

busan district – train station – night

the moon hangs low in the night sky, its pale light illuminating the quiet train station. mingi walks over to the entrance, his boots crunching the gravel underneath. he adjusts his gloves and scans the area. the train station is quiet, almost abandoned of human life as he steps inside to look around. there’s a single light glowing warmly in the place. there’s no one at the counter, too dangerous to be out at night anymore. 

he remembers hongjoong briefing him on the mission: investigate the train that had twenty passengers suddenly vanish without a trace. the association think its the work of a high-level villain. mingi though? he’s not entirely sure anymore, especially after dealing with sakura back in the itaewon district. 

“this place gives me the creeps,” he mutters under his breath. the faint sound of a train whistle echoes through the distance. mingi frowns as he feels a chill run directly down his spine. he looks around cautiously, his heightened senses on alert.

mingi comes to the conclusion that this sleepy town looks like it forgot the concept of daylight. the streets are dimly lit, and most of the windows are closed, not a single outside soul able to see what goes on inside. he stops in front of a rundown looking diner and enters to see a few locals gathered about the place. the bell above the door jingles half-heartedly at his arrival. 

the smell of stale coffee and grease fills and lingers in the air. mingi approaches the counter where an elderly waitress, face lined with years of worry, greets him. 

“you’re not from around here, are you?” her voice is hushed as she looks over mingi’s appearance, his natural stark white hair making him easily stand out amongst the locals. 

mingi shakes his head, “i’m here about the train. heard anything strange?” his words catch the gazes of the other patrons who look nervous.

the waitress hesitates before leaning closer, her voice low and trembling, “it’s not just the train. there’s someone… something. we call him ‘the slasher.’”

mingi straightens, brows furrowing, “the slasher?” he repeats. 

“attacks people at night. leaves them… torn apart. no one’s seen his face. some think he’s a legend at this point.” 

“and you’re sure it’s not connected to the train?” mingi asks, hands tightening into fists. the waitress shakes her head, glancing towards the door nervously. 

“no, but he’s just as dangerous.”

suddenly, a loud crash comes from outside. mingi bolts to the door, throwing it open to see a figure standing under a flickering streetlight. 

mingi assumes this is the slasher the waitress told him about. the figure stands tall, shrouded in darkness. his mask is stitched together with mismatched pieces of leath, and his hands are tipped with sharp, metallic claws. mingi thinks he just walked straight out of a horror film. a terrified civilian is pinned against the wall beside him, struggling to break free. 

“leave, hero, or they bleed,” the slasher hissed out, beady eyes staring straight at mingi. 

mingi steps forward, unshaken by the threat, “let them go. now!” 

the slasher tilts his head, amused. he tosses the civilian back, who lets out a cry, before lunging towards mingi with surprising speed. the villain swipes his claws in a flurry, each strike aiming for mingi’s vital points. mingi is able to duck and dodge with precision, his combat skills sharp and deliberate like any high-class hero. 

“is that all you’ve got?” mingi asks grinning. 

mingi retaliates, delivering a powerful kick that sends the slasher flying into a pile of crates. the villain recovers quickly, leaping into the air and slashing downward. mingi rolls out of the way, his fist glowing faintly with his light energy. the alley becomes a quick battlefield, the slasher’s claws leave deep gouges in the brick walls. meanwhile, mingi counters with precise strikes that force the villain to become defensive. 

“you’re faster than the others, but you won’t leave here alive,” the villain taunts, a maniacal laugh leaving his lips. 

“we’ll see about that,” mingi says. the hero charges, his energy-infused punch connecting with the slasher’s chest. the impact sends a shockwave through the alley, shattering nearby windows. the slasher stumbles, his claws sending sparks flying as they scrape the ground. 

realizing he’s outmatched, the slasher attempts to flee. mingi chases him through the streets, their movements a blur of speed and violence. 

the fight ends at the edge of town, where mingi finally subdues the slashes. with a final punch, he knocks the villain unconscious, leaving him crumpled on the ground. the first rays of sunlight peak over the horizon, bathing the scene in a faint golden glow. mingi wipes sweat from his brow, breathing heavily. 

“one down. now for the train,” he says to himself as he goes to connect the hero association so they can deal with the villain that lays on the ground.  

busan district – train station – sunrise

mingi approaches the train station once again. this time instead of being abandoned, he notices a person at the ticket booth. he walks up to the older woman who simply smiles at him. 

“the muhan train… is it running?” he asks.

“oh, yes! they sent her back from the train yard last night,” she explains and mingi is surprised by the news, but if this means he can figure out the mystery surrounding it then…

“three tickets, please,” mingi says, holding up three fingers. the older woman lets out a chuckle as she gets the three tickets ready. mingi pays the woman before thanking her. 

he pockets the tickets and turns, spotting a familiar figure waiting for him near the platform – yunho, with you standing a few feet behind, your expression unreadable. mingi is honestly surprised that hongjoong sent the two of you on this mission with him considering the results of the last mission. 

“took you long enough,” yunho says, nodding towards his friend. 

“ran into some… distractions,” mingi said with a smile. you glance towards him, your eyes briefly flickering down to the faint scratches on his arm. 

“looks like you’ve been busy,” you say, crossing your arms. mingi chuckles, brushing your comment off as approaches you. 

“don’t worry about it. let’s go. we’ve got a train to catch,” he says, handing you and yunho your tickets. the train whistle suddenly blows and the three of you board before it begins to move, carrying you all to your next destination. 

muhan train – passenger car – night

the train hums steadily as you, mingi, and yunho sit in a modest, warmly lit passenger car. one of the overhead lights flicker softly, making your eye twitch every time it does. a few other passengers sit scattered throughout the car, their light chatter fills the air peacefully. 

“the hero association thinks it’s a demon,” yunho’s voice is low as he leans forward, “it’s the only explanation for twenty people vanishing without a trace.”

“a demon on a train? sounds like something out of a horror movie,” mingi says with a frown, his eyes darting from yunho to you to see your reaction. 

“except this one’s real,” you said seriously, expression void of any possible emotion. 

the three of you glance around the car. the other passengers seem oblivious, but there’s an undeniable tension in the air that you’re positive these civilians are ignoring. ignorance is bliss afterall, you think. a conductor enters, punching tickets as he moves down the aisle. his movements are stiff, mechanical, and his face gaunt, with dark circles under his eyes. like he hasn’t slept in days, weeks. 

the conductor then approaches your row. 

“tickets, please,” he says monotonously. yunho hands over your tickets and the tired man punches them with robotic precision, his hands trembling slightly. 

“you look exhausted,” you say, observing the conductor quietly. the man hesitates but doesn’t respond. he finishes punching the tickets and moves on, his shoulders sagging under an invisible weight. you watch him leave, a small frown tugging your lips.

“you ever feel like we’re the ones who need a break?” mingi asks, stretching and letting out a yawn a little too loudly. 

“maybe after we survive this,” you say, smiling faintly. 

mingi chuckles, leaning back in his seat. the train’s gentle rocking starts to lull you three into a drowsy state. 

“wake me if the demon shows up,” mingi says, stifling another yawn. you can’t help but also let out a small yawn, eyes feeling heavy and tired as you tilt your head back against the seat. eyes closing. 

muhan train – abandon passenger car – night

the conductor steps into a dim, smoke-filled room. a large mirror reflects distorted shapes of the cabin you and the others are in. yena stands before the mirror, draped in a dark, flowing outfit with theatrical accents of feathers and embroidered stars. her piercing, icy blue eyes gleam the words 아래하나 – lower one – read where her pupils should be, and her smile is predatory, exuding both elegance and malice. she’s clearly not human, not anymore at least.

“welcome back, my loyal friend~” she speaks softly, with a mock bow towards the conductor. 

“i did what you asked. can i… can i rest now? can i be with my family now?” he asks pleadingly. 

yena tilts her head, “of course. i always reward devotion,” she steps closer, placing her gloved hand over his chest. a strange light emanates from her hand as the conductor's body stiffens. his head tilts back, and his eyes close. 

“dream deeply,” she whispers. his body collapses like a marionette with its strings cut. 

yena turns to the mirror, which now shows glowing tendrils snaking into the train’s walls. she lets out a deep laugh, “let’s see what their hearts desire most!” she says to herself, throwing her hands in the air in a large theatrical movement. 

████ – beach – sunset

you let out a gasp, eyes snapping open and you find yourself standing on a beach. it’s peaceful and you can see the waves glittering under the warm sunset. san and seonghwa are beside you, both dressed casually and laughing. san reaches over, brushing sand off her arm with a grin. 

“you’re terrible at building sandcastles,” he says with a smirk. 

seonghwa lets out a chuckle, “more like demolishing them,” he says teasingly. 

you let out a laugh, your voice feeling light and free like you’ve been this way your entire life. the three of you sit together, looking out at the horizon. san wraps an arm around your shoulder, while seonghwa offers you a soda. 

“i’m glad we decided to take this vacation, get away from the city,” seonghwa says softly. 

san nods, “just us.” 

you feel your smile falter for a moment, a faint sense of wrongness creeps in. you look down at your hands, which are clean and unscarred – too perfect. 

“this… isn’t right.”

daegu district – the song residence – day 

mingi stands outside a small house, holding a certificate in one hand and dressed in his pristine hero uniform. when he walks inside he sees his parents sitting inside the cozy living room, their figures illuminated by warm light. 

“mom, dad, i did it! i’m a hero now!” he says to them excitedly before talking about everything he has done in order to be recognized by the hero association. they both glance up, faces unreadable. his mother gives him a small, distracted smile before returning to her knitting. 

“that’s nice, honey,” she says, voice flat and with no emotion. 

his father barely looks up from his newspaper, “don’t forget to take out the trash.” 

mingi’s expression falters, his face full of confusion and hurt which flickers in his eyes. 

seoul district – cherry blossom tree park – day

the seoul district was bustling with life, students, faculty, and regular civilians alike enjoying the warm spring breeze that carried the faint scent of flowers. but what captured everyone’s attention the most were the cherry blossom trees scattered across the park’s main road. their petals glowing faintly under the soft sunlight. 

it was the height of cherry blossom season – or so it appeared. 

yunho smiled as he glanced at you walking beside him, your gaze fixed on the pink and white blossoms overhead. you had always had a particular fondness for things like this, where the world seemed to pause just enough to let beauty shine through. 

“i told you this would be worth it,” yunho said, his voice tinged with pride. “i knew you’d like it.” 

you slowed your steps, eyes narrowing slightly as you studied the trees more closely. your lips quirked into a small, curious frown. “they’re… not real.” 

yunho looked at you with wide eyes, heart sinking at your words, “what?”

you gestured toward one of the branches, where the faint flicker of light betrayed its holographic nature. “they’re projections. pretty sure, but not real cherry blossoms.” 

yunho let out a soft groan, running a hand through his hair. “i’m sorry, y/n. i thought… i didn’t realize. i just wanted to—

“yunho, stop,” you say, turning to him and cutting him off with a gentle smile. “it’s okay. you went out of your way to do something sweet for me, and that means more than whether the blossoms are real or not.” 

your words lifted a weight off of yunho’s shoulders and warmed his heart and body like how you usually manage to do to him. yunho rubbed the back of his neck, ears turning bright red as he struggled to find the words to respond with. “i… i just thought you’d like it,” he mumbles, avoiding your gaze. 

“and i do,” you replied, “especially since i’m here with you,” your tone as sincere as the sparkle in your eyes. 

the two of you began walking along the path that curved beneath the cherry blossoms, their petals shimmering softly in the breeze. yunho couldn’t help but keep sneaking glances at you, his heart beating a little faster every time she laughed or pointed out something that caught her interest. 

as they passed a family sitting on a nearby bench, your attention was drawn to a child tugging at their parent’s sleeve. “i wish they were real,” the child said wistfully, staring up at the holographic blossoms. 

you slowed your pace, expression unreadable. yunho noticed but said nothing, assuming your silence was related to quiet disappointment. 

“ready to go?” he asked once you reached the far end of the path. 

“yeah, but i need to use the bathroom first,” you said quickly, darting off before he could respond. 

yunho chuckled, shaking his head as he made his way to a nearby bench beneath one of the holographic trees. 

but then the ground began to rumble. 

yunho immediately shot to his feet, instincts kicking in as he scanned the area for danger. the tremors grew stronger, causing people to cry out and scramble for safety. students began to murmur about a potential villain attack, and yunho was already calculating how to evacuate everyone if needed. 

but before panic could fully set in, something else happened. 

the holographic trees flickered out of existence, their light dimming until they vanished completely. in their place, real cherry blossom trees burst from the ground, their roots spreading as their branches stretched towards the sky. petals began to cascade like rain, painting the park in shades of pink and white. 

yunho was speechless, his breath catching as he took in the sight. the blossoms swayed gently in the breeze, their delicate scent filling the air. it was more beautiful than what he could have ever imagined, almost otherworldly in its perfection. 

“wow!” your voice broke through his trance, and he turned to see you approaching with a wide smile. “look at them!” you stopped beside him, your gaze fixated on the blossoms above. “beautiful, aren’t they, yunho?”

there was something in your tone, a quiet pride that made him look at you instead of the trees. your eyes sparkled with mischief, and he felt a pang of realization hit him. 

“you…” he started, voice trailing off. 

“hmm? what are you saying?” you asked innocently, tilting your head as if you hadn’t just performed a miracle. 

yunho opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. instead, he shook his head with a soft laugh. “nothing. forget it.”

you grinned, clearly amused. “oh! before we leave, we should get ––––– a keychain. he’ll never let me hear the end of it if we don’t bring him something.” 

yunho looked at you with confusion written over his face as your voice began to become static. especially when you spoke of someone else’s name. 

“who?” he asked and you looked at him with equal confusion. 

“––––––”

yunho suddenly felt a pain rush through his head, he heard you let out a soft gasp as you touched his arm. his vision being overcomed with static as he saw flashes of different images. 

“yunho? are you okay?” your voice panicked as the pain slowly began to subside from his head.

he shook his head as he straightened up, “yeah, sure,” he replied with a tight lipped smile. you looked at him with wide, innocent eyes before nodding at him. you grabbed his arm in order to pull him towards the park gift shop. 

as you both walked through the park, now alive with real cherry blossoms, yunho couldn’t help but steal one last glance at you. you were radiant, laughter ringing out like music, and for a brief moment, he forgot about everything else. 

all he could think about was how much he wanted this moment to last forever.  

████ – beach – sunset

you feel a sense of unease grow as you stand up. you take a step away from san and seonghwa, your gaze sharpening. 

“this isn’t real.”

san grabs your arm, his grip firm. your eyes look from his hand to his eyes. “stay, please,” he says.

“don’t you want to stay here? with us?” seonghwa asks firmly. 

you hesitate for a moment, pain flickering across your face, but you push san away as you take off running down the beach. you need to wake up, who knew what the demon will do if you don’t do it soon. 

there has to be an end to this place, you conclude as you summon your sword. the red metal glittering in the setting sun as you run along the sand. you figure if you run in a straight line then you should hit the end eventually. right?

“y/n!” you freeze in your tracks at the sudden voice. you feel a chill run down your spine at the familiar voice. what? you feel your breath getting heavy as you hear the person’s footsteps coming closer to you. 

“where are you going? don’t you want to stay here? with me?” 

you hesitate for a moment before turning to see him standing not too far from you. you feel tears begin to well up in your eyes at the sight of him. you feel a part of you pulling towards him, to stay like he wants. like what you want.  

you shake your head, “i’m sorry. there’s people i have to protect.” 

he lets out a laugh as he tilts his head, “i’ll see you later then.” 

you nod your head, looking down at your sword before getting an idea. raising your sword, you plunge it into your chest. the dream shattering like glass.

muhan train – passenger car – night

you wake with a gasp, face pale and sweat-drenched. around you, the passengers are asleep, faces twisted in an unnatural serenity. you shake yunho and mingi in an attempt to wake them, but they remain unresponsive. 

“damnit! you bastards, wake up!” you hiss before summoning your sword and searching for the demon that was responsible for this. 

muhan train – train roof – night

you climb onto the roof, the cold wind biting at your skin. yena stands there, her dark cloak billowing out dramatically. she looks at you with surprise before it transforms into a menacing grin. 

“awake already? how rude of you to leave the dream i tailored so carefully.”

“let’s skip the theatrics,” you say, gripping your sword tightly. 

“oh, darling, i am the theatrics,” she says with a chuckle. yena strikes first, her movement fluid and almost dance-like. you block her attacks with your sword, red sparks flying with every clash. yena’s attacks are graceful but deadly, her nails cutting into your arm. 

“i could give you everything. no more blood, no more pain. just… bliss,” she tells you, tone playful. 

you grit your teeth, “i’ll take reality over your lies.” the fight grows more brutal, with blood spraying as yena’s claws grazes your cheek. you retaliate with a slash across yena’s torso, the villain staggering briefly before smiling. 

the battle intensifies, you pushing through your injuries. finally, you land your sword where her neck lies and sever her head. yena’s head rolls along the roof of the train, body falling to her knees. but yena smirks

“you think this ends here?” yena asks, smiling as blood pours everywhere. 

the train begins to twist and transform, metal screeching as it takes on a grotesque, almost living form. yena’s head attached itself to a flesh tendril as she laughs down at you. her body clapping at the scene before it. 

“what the hell?”

muhan train – train roof – night

the cold wind howls, whipping through your hair as you stand on the roof of the speeding train. you grip your sword tightly, blood dripping from a shallow cut on her arm. the moonlight casts an eerie glow on yena, whose cloak billows unnaturally, as if alive. her sharp features are accentuated by the shadows, and her sly smile reveals teeth too sharp to be human. 

“look at you. so determined. so angry. it’s almost… endearing,” yena speaks, mockingly towards you. you narrow your eyes, sword steady in your hands.

“you’re done terrorizing these people.”

“oh, darling, i’ve only just begun~” she replies with a smirk. 

yena lunges with inhuman speed, her hands slicing through the air like claws. you dodge, barely missing the lethal swipe, and retaliate with a quick slash of your sword. sparks fly as the blade connects with yena’s clock, but the fabric seems to absorb the impact, leaving her unharmed. 

you let out a quick cuss as yena spins, her movements fluid and unnervingly elegant, landing a kick to your side. you stumble but quickly regain your footing, slashing upward. this time, the blade grazes yena’s arm, drawing dark, ink-colored blood. 

“how rude,” yena hisses out, she attacks back. her claws slashing across your shoulder. blood sprays onto the roof, and you grit your teeth, refusing to show weakness. 

muhan train – passenger car – night

inside, yunho jerks awake, his vision blurry and disoriented. around him, the other passengers remain unconscious, their faces peaceful yet unsettling. he notices the grotesque, flesh-like tendrils snaking along the walls and ceiling – pulsing veins of flesh and metal intertwining. 

“what the hell…” he says to himself. a sudden groan shakes the train as the walls ripple, the train itself coming alive in the moment. yunho stumbles toward the back, his instincts and years of training kicking in. 

muhan train – train roof – night

the fight between you and yena escalates. the demon’s movements grow more erratic, her strikes faster and more lethal. you counter with calculated blocks, your sword glowing faintly as you channel your powers into it. you manage to land a deep slash across yena’s chest, causing the villain to stagger. 

but yena only laughs, her voice echoing unnaturally, “you’re strong~ i’ll give you that. but you’re still so… mortal.” 

she raises her arms, the train beneath you begins to twist and convulse. you stumble as the roof warps under your feet. yena’s body shifts, her legs melting into the train. 

“you’re on my turf now, nameless.” 

the train screeches as more of the flesh and metal tendrils burst from the sides, snaking towards you. you slash at them, severing a few, but more only take their place. 

“yunho! mingi! protect the passengers!” you shout, hoping that at one if not both of them are awake by now. hopefully, they found a way to wake up. 

you see movement behind you, and turn to see yunho now on the roof. “we’re not leaving you!” he shouts. 

“just do it!” 

yunho hesitates, but a sharp tendril lashes towards him. he ducks and retreats, heading inside to protect the passengers. 

muhan train – living nightmare train car – night

the interior of the train shifts and slowly becomes unrecognizable. walls pulsate with fleshy growths, and even grotesque eyes and mouths form sporadically, watching and whispering. mingi wakes up to this sudden nightmare, body stiff from the unnatural slumber. he shakes his head as he grabs a nearby pole for support to stand up. 

“what the hell is going on?” he asks, looking around completely horrified. “this really is a horror movie!”

yunho runs towards him, slamming a tendril aside with his fist. “mingi, help me! we need to protect the passengers!” 

mingi nods, steeling himself, and the two begin tearing tendrils away from the unconscious passengers. managing to destroy and burn away the grotesque flesh that covered the car walls. 

muhan train – train roof – night

you fight with everything you have. slashing through webs of tendrils, your body bleeding from multiple cuts. the train’s transformation has made the fight infinitely harder – yena is everywhere. 

“you can’t kill what’s become eternal, little villain,” yena sneers. 

you grit your teeth, sword glowing bright as you channel more energy into it. “watch me.” you then drive your blade into the train roof, sending a shockwave through the mutated structure. yena screams, momentarily destabilized, as parts of the train begin to reverie to normal.

muhan train – living nightmare train car – night

yunho and mingi manage to protect the last of the passengers, securing each of the passenger cars. 

yunho looked up, “do you think y/n is doing okay?” 

mingi looks up as well, “she’s stronger than all of us put together, yunho. she’s got this.” 

yunho licks his lips at mingi’s words, “i hope so, for her sake especially.”

muhan train – train roof – night

you continue to fight, your injuries mounting. yena, now more monstrous than human, laughs as her tendrils lash out. you dodge, though one catches your side, slamming you into the roof. you let out a couch, blood splattering onto the metal. 

yena leans closer to you, “you’re resilient, i’ll give you that. but you’re only delaying the inevitable.”

you grip your sword tightly, glaring at the demon, “inevitable? maybe, but i’ll still win.” 

with a roar, you lunge forward, slashing wildly. the blade glows brighter with each strike, curing through yena’s defenses. finally, you spot yena’s neck – embedded deep within the train’s core. you leap into the air, bringing your sword down in one final, desperate strike. 

“die already!” you scream out. the blade servers yena’s neck, and the demon lets out a bloodcurdling scream as her body begins to disintegrate. the train convulse violently, throwing you to side. 

the power behind your attack has the training derailing, lying on its side in a broken heap. passengers awaken slowly, groggy but alive. yunho helps some of them out while mingi finds you thrown on the other side of the tracks, bleeding heavily. 

derailment site – night

the area is silent except for the crackling of smoldering wreckage from the now derailed train. mingi crouches beside you, helping you sit up after having been thrown off the train, your blood-soaked clothes sticking to her skin. you wince as he carefully presses a piece of torn fabric against her side to staunch the bleeding. 

“stay still, y/n. you’ve lost too much blood already.” 

you grimace, “you’re one to talk… you’re just as banged up.”

“you’re way worse off. besides, someone’s gotta keep you alive.” 

the moment of tense peace between you both is shattered by the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps crunching on gravel. a figure emerges from the shadows – a man with a sharp, predatory grin and glowing crimson eyes that read 상위삼 – upper three. the demon from the villain alliance, you conclude, strolls forward. his movements are unnervingly casual, his aura radiating just as menacingly. 

“well, well. looks like i just missed the show, huh?”

mingi quickly stands, stepping protectively in front of you, “who are you?”

the demon lets out a mocking laugh, “aw, you don’t recognize me? i’m hurt. yeonjun, upper rank three of the villain alliance. and you… you’re mingi, right? the loud and flashy one.”

“if you’re looking for a fight, you’re got one.”

you struggle to push yourself up, your hand gripping your sword tightly. “mingi, don’t—

mingi turns to you, “stay down, y/n. you’re in no shape to fight.”

“you can’t take him on alone! don’t be stupid!”

“don’t worry. i’ve got this. after this, we’ll go get something good to eat, okay?” he says, smiling reassuringly to you. you hesitate, jaw tightening, but you finally nod, clutching your wound as you watch mingi step forward. 

“oh, this is gonna be fun,” yeonjun says with a grin. 

mingi charges first, throwing a heavy punch aimed at yeonjun’s face. the demon dodged effortlessly, countering with a kick to mingi’s stomach that sends him skidding back. 

“is that all you’ve got?” he laugh, “come on hero, show me some real power!”

mingi doesn’t respond, rushing back in with a flurry of punches and kicks. his fists land solid blows on yeonjun’s chest, but the demon barely flinches, his wounds healing almost instantly. 

“you’re strong, i’ll give you that. but you’re holding back. still clinging to your humanity.” yeonjun strikes back, his claws raking across mingi’s arm, leaving deep gashes. blood splatters onto the ground, but mingi doesn’t falter. he lands a powerful uppercut that sends yeonjun staggering. 

“humanity’s what makes me stronger than you,” mingi says proudly. 

“oh, please! don’t give me that righteous crap. you’d be unstoppable as a demon. think about it – we could fight like this forever! no limits, no consequences. just endless battles!” 

“not interested.”

the fight intensifies, with mingi and yeonjun exchanging brutal blows. mingi’s knuckles are raw and bleeding, and his breathing grows labored. yeonjun, meanwhile, remains eerily unscathed, his wounds closing as quickly as they open. you watch from the sidelines, clutching your side. your eyes dart between the two fighters, your frustration building as you realize mingi is starting to falter. 

“mingi, stop! you’re gonna get yourself killed!” you shout, panic running through your body and tone. yeonjun smirks, his claws glowing faintly with a dark energy. 

“she’s right, you know. you can’t win this.” the demon lunges, his claws piercing through mingi’s chest. blood pours from the wound as mingi gasps, his body jerking in shock. 

“no!” you scream, terror running through your body. you reach forward, wound shooting a sharp pain through your being and you fall forward. 

despite the mortal injury, mingi musters the last of his strength, his fist glows with energy. he slams it into yeonjun’s face, sending the demon flying backwards. the villain lands with a grunt, momentarily stunned, but his body begins to regenerate almost instantly. 

“you really are stubborn. i’ll give you that, but this? this is just sad,” he says disappointedly. 

mingi collapses to his knees, blood dripping from his lips as his strength finally gives out. you manage to stumble to your feet, sword in hand, vision swimming from blood loss. 

yeonjun notices the faint glow of the horizon as the sun begins to rise. his expression shifts from amusement to alarm. he then starts running back into the dense forest, you wobbling after him shouting. 

“you… you bastard! you coward! come back and finish this!” you say staggering forward and making it to the forest line. 

“you think i’m running from you? that’s cute,” he laughs as he gets further and further away. 

you, in a desperate move, throw your sword. the blade slices through the air and impales yeonjun’s chest. the demon falters, yanking the sword out with a grimace before fully disappearing into the shadows. 

“you coward!” you scream with as much strength as you could muster. 

derailment site – sunrise

you stumble back towards mingi, falling to your knees in front of him. his breathing is shallow, his face pale. you press your hands against his chest, trying to stop the bleeding. 

“st-stay with me, mingi. come on, you promised me food, remember? you can’t back out now,” you tell him panicking. 

mingi smiles faintly, his voice barely a whisper, “are… are the passengers safe?”

you feel tears begin to build up in your eyes, “yeah. they’re safe. you did it.”

yunho arrives, climbing over the other side of the tracks after having helped the passengers and contacted the association. what was a look of relief turns into sheer horror as he sees mingi’s condition. 

“mingi! no, no, no!” he drops to his knees in front of his friend and beside you, trying desperately to heal him, but it’s too late. 

“take care of her. and… don’t let each other skip any meals.” with one final breath, mingi goes still. 

yunho lets out a loud sob, screaming into the sky as he calls out to mingi, his best friend. “mingi! no! please!” 

you sit silently in front of mingi, tears streaming down your face as you stare at your blood-covered hands. you look up to see a lone crow circling above them, its caw echoing in the still morning air.

ACT III: WINTER IS COMING

daegu district – funeral hall - day

the room is quiet, filled with somber faces and the scent of white lilies. a framed photo of mingi rests at the front, surrounded by wreaths from both family, friends, the hero association, and mingi’s fans. yunho and hongjoong stand near the back, dressed in black suits, their expressions tense and heavy. 

yunho’s jaw is tight as he glances towards mingi’s parents at the front of the hall. his mother dabs a handkerchief at her eyes, while his father gaze stays locked on the floor, one hand around his wife’s shoulder and the other clenched into a fist at his side. 

“have you talked to them yet?” yunho asks, whispering to hongjoong.

“no,” hongjoong says flatly. yunho frowns but doesn’t press further.

daegu district – outside funeral hall – after the service

the crowd slowly began to thin, eventually leaving only yunho, hongjoong, and mingi’s parents. the four stand in the funeral home’s quiet garden. tension hangs thick in the air as mingi’s father finally speaks.

“you have some nerve showing your faces here,” mr. song spits out angrily at the two heroes. 

yunho steps forward, his voice steady but strained. “we’re here to pay our respects.” 

“respects?” mrs. song’s voice trembles with bitterness as she talks, “is that what you call this? he’s dead because of you.”

yunho flinches, but hongjoong doesn’t react, his expression unreadable. 

mr. song points an accusing finger towards yunho, “you dragged him into this – into being a hero. if it weren’t for you, he’d still be alive.” 

yunho’s hands ball into fists, but he keeps his tone measured. “mingi chose to become a hero because he wanted to make a difference. he believed in what we were doing.” 

“and look where it got him! he should have stayed here, with us, where he was safe. but no, he had to go off chasing some foolish dream and get himself killed!” his mother snarled. the words cut deep, but yunho refused to back down. 

“he wasn’t chasing a foolish dream. he was trying to protect people – people like you.”

mr. song steps forward, his face contorted with more rage than grief, “don’t you dare try to justify this to us. you think we care about your excuses? our son is gone, and it’s your fault!”

before yunho can respond, hongjoong bows deeply, his head low. “you’re right. this is our fault. we failed him, and for that, we’re sorry.”

the gesture catches everyone off guard, including yunho. 

mingi’s mother scoffs, her voice cold as she sneers at hongjoong and his action, “sorry? what good is sorry? it won’t bring him back. just leave. both of you.”

hongjoong straightens, his face blank, and nods. without another word, he turns and begins 

daegu district – outside funeral hall – late afternoon

the two walk in silence, the weight of the encounter pressing down on them. finally, yunho breaks the silence. 

“why did you do that?” he asks his captain angrily. 

hongjoong doesn’t look at him, his voice quiet but firm. “because it’s what they needed to hear.” 

“they needed to hear the truth! that mingi was a hero, that he died protecting people! not some empty apology that makes it sound like we didn’t care!” yunho says, feeling all his emotions about to explode out of him. 

hongjoong stops abruptly, turning to face yunho. “you think i don’t care?” he says, voice rising, “you think this doesn’t tear me apart, too?”

yunho glares at him, emotions continuing to boil over. “then why do you always act like nothing touches you? like you don’t feel anything?” 

“because someone has to keep it together. someone has to be the one to face people like them and take the blame if it means they get even a shred of peace.”

yunho’s anger falters, replaced by a flicker of understanding. “you don’t have to carry it all on your own, you know,” yunho says quietly. 

hongjoong exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair. “i know, but it’s easier this way.” they stand in silence for a moment, the tension easing slightly. 

“mingi wouldn’t want us to be like this. he’d want us to look out for each other,” yunho says softly. 

hongjoong nods, gaze distant, “you’re right.”

the two continue walking as the sun begins to set. side by side, the tension between them slowly fading along with an unspoken promise of healing lingering between them.

seoul district – living room – night 

a group of older adults sit around a fireplace, glasses of wine in hand. laughter fills the room as they exchange words and stories. one of them, a well-dressed man in 50s, leans back in his chair and takes a sip of his drink. 

“you know, our little girl’s been reading college-level texts since she was eight. smart as a whip, that one!” he says and his wife next to him smiles. 

“she’s going to take the hero association to new heights, i’m sure of it. honestly, we couldn’t be prouder – even if she isn’t… well, you know.”

“adopted or not, she’s clearly got your drive,” the other woman says. 

“yes, it's a shame that she suffers from a strange condition, not being able to go outside during the day though hasn’t killed her drive though,” the first man said. the group laughs and continues their chatter, their voices a warm hum against the crackling fire. 

seoul district – home library – night

upstairs, a young girl, no older than thirteen, stands in a room with the walls lined with towering bookshelves. the room is softly lit, casting shadows across the spines of ancient tomes and leather-bound books. the girl’s small hands flip through a dense book written in an unfamiliar language. 

her attention sharpens as she scans the pages, her lips forming silent words, able to follow along easily with the unfamiliar script. a faint breeze causes the sheer curtains on the balcony doors to sway, though the night outside is still. 

the balcony doors creak open, a tall figure steps inside, his movements measured and deliberate. yeonjun enters, bowing low as the curtains blow around him. 

“lady nicha,” yeonjun’s voice is low and respectful. the complete opposite of what it was during his fight with mingi. 

the girl turns slowly, her youthful face serene, yet unnervingly cold. her dark eyes flash a vivid, burning red, illuminating her face for an instant before fading back to normal. she tilts her head, studying him like he was a mere insect to her.

“you’re late,” her voice, mature and calm, is the complete opposite of her youthful and innocent appearance. 

“i came as quickly as i could,” he keeps his head low as he speaks. eyes staying towards the floor and not daring to look at the girl in front of him. 

nicha closes the book with soft thud, even so a ripple of air rushes through the room due to her single action. though her stature is small, the air around her is suffocating, charged with unlimited power. 

“report.”

yeonjun straightens but keeps his gaze averted, respectfully. “the train mission was… partially successful. the hero mingi is dead.”

nicha’s expression remains unchanged, her eyes unblinking as she continues to stare at yeonjun. waiting for him to continue with his report. 

he hesitates for a moment before continuing, “but the other hero and the female villain survived.” the room grows deathly silent at his words. 

“didn’t i tell you to kill all of them?” nicha’s voice is soft, yet menacing. the air ripples with an unseen force. the books on the shelves around them tremble. 

“the sun was rising soon. i couldn’t stay much longer. if i had—

a sudden deafening crack interrupts him as the windows behind him shatter. shards of glass explode and fly inward. yeonjun doesn’t flinch, though his shoulders tense. the glass hovers mid-air for a split second before raining down on the floor. 

the room itself seems to quake, the walls vibrating faintly under nicha’s silent fury. she steps towards yeonjun, her bare feet crunching softly against the scattered glass. she doesn’t flinch as the glass shards pierce her feet. 

“excuses,” she spits, voice low and full of venom. yeonjun swallows hard but remains rooted in place, his eyes fixed on the ground. unmoving. 

nicha then tilts her head, like a curious child, “do you think i care about the sun? or your limits?” her voice echoes unnaturally through the room. reverberating as if spoken by many voices at once. 

yeonjun struggles to maintain his composure, “it won’t happen again. i’ll finish the job.” nicha’s lips curve into a faint smile, though her eyes and the smile itself remains devoid of warmth. 

“no, it won’t.” the tension in the air snaps as quickly as it rose. nicha turns away from yeonjun, dismissing him with a flick of her hand. “leave.”

yeonjun hesitates for a fraction of a second before bowing deeply and retreating. he steps carefully through the broken glass, his movements eerily silent. the balcony doors close behind him, and nicha turns back to her book. she resumes where she left off, her expression as calm as if nothing had happened. 

ateez compound – common room – night

the compound is unusually quiet. the common room feels colder than usual, the air heavy with grief. jongho, wooyoung, and yeosang sit together on the couch. none of them speak for a while, each lost in their thoughts. 

“it doesn’t feel real,” wooyoung says softly, finally breaking the silence. 

jongho, sitting with his elbows on his knees, nods but doesn’t lift his head. “i keep thinking he’s going to walk through the door. make some dumb joke about how we’re all too serious,” he says quietly. 

yeosang leans back, staring at the ceiling, voice distant and solemn, “he always made it look so easy. like no matter how bad things got, he’d figure it out.” 

wooyoung lets out a shaky laugh, but it’s devoid of humor, “that’s because he was stubborn as hell. he hated giving up on anything.” 

there’s a brief silence as the three exchange a look. despite their different temperaments, the loss of mingi has brought them closer in their unfortunate shared grief. 

“we should’ve been there,” jongho says, voice full of regret. 

yeosang shakes his head at the youngest’s words, “we can’t think like that. it’s not what he’d want,” yeosang’s voice is soft but firm. 

wooyoung’s eyes glisten, but he blinks them away, refusing to let the tears fall. “he was family. all of us… we’re family, right?” he asks, staring at his hands. 

jongho and yeosang both nod, their faces set with quiet determination. yeosang looks at the both of them, “and family sticks together. no matter what.”

ateez compound – infirmary – night

the sterile, white walls of the infirmary feel suffocating. you sit on the edge of the bed, side bandaged, but face still pale from the results of the last mission. the faint sound of the compound’s hum buzzes in the background and slowly in your mind. you stare out the window, moonlight illuminating your face. 

your eyes are hollow, expression distant. one hand absentmindedly touches the bandages on your abdomen. “i should’ve done more,” you whisper to yourself. 

a single tear escapes, sliding down your cheek. suddenly, your nose begins to bleed. you wipe it quickly with the back of your hand, frowning. your eyes immediately snap to the infirmary door, watching as san steps into the room, carrying a small tray with supplies. 

“i figured you’d still be awake,” he says, sitting down beside her. 

“i can’t sleep,” you say in reply, softly. san places the tray on the side table, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. 

“no one blames you, y/n,” he says quietly.

your jaw tightens, and you look away, voice trembling, “that’s a lie. either way… i blame me.” 

san reaches out, hand hovering near yours before pulling back. “you fought harder than anyone else could’ve in your condition.” 

“it wasn’t enough! mingi’s gone because i wasn’t strong enough to stop that bastard!” your voice cracks, and a faint glow of your powers flickers around your fingers. the air in the room becomes momentarily heavy. san tenses but stays calm. 

“y/n,” he calls out to her, soft but firm. the sound of his voice pulls you back, and the glow dissipates. you exhale shakily, guilt washing over you.

“i’m sorry,” you say quietly. 

“you don’t have to apologize.” there’s a long silence before san gestures to the bandages on her abdomen. “let me change those for you.” 

you hesitate but eventually nod, lifting the hem of your shirt to reveal the bloodstained bandages underneath. san’s fingers brush against your skin as he helps you take your shirt off before he carefully unwraps the bandages, his touch gentle but precise. the intimacy isn’t lost for either of you. you watch him closely, the room growing quieter as the tension between you builds. 

“does it hurt?” he asks, glancing up at you. 

“not as much as it did before,” you tell him softly. 

san chuckles faintly, his voice low, “you’re tougher than you give yourself credit for.”

his fingers linger for a moment over your wound, his finger edging around the stitches some agent from the association had done when they arrived at the derailment site. you feel your breath caught in your chest when you feel him push down on the stitches. like he was testing the durability of your stitches. you feel your heart begin to pound in your chest the more he presses down. 

“san…” you manage out, his eyes flicker up to meet your own. 

“does that hurt?” he asks, eyes never yours, fingers pressing down into your wound. 

“a little…” you trail off, feeling the sting begin to build up. as the pain from his touch begins to spread, you feel a certain heat also begin to spread over you. the pain and heat mixing in your body making your heart jump in your chest, breath hitching. 

your hand comes up to grab a fistful of san’s shirt when you feel your stitches finally giving out. a gasp leaves your lips, but san muffles any remaining sounds that want to escape. his lips pressing to yours in an open mouth, tongue abusing yours as two of his fingers jab into your wound – into you. 

san’s mouth trails from your mouth and down your jaw, tongue leaving a wet trail over your skin. he trails his tongue over your jaw and down your throat where he meets your death collar. you hear grumbled over the collar before skipping over and continuing down. he meets your lips again when you pull him back up to kiss you, his fingers teasingly moving in and out of your wound. 

the pain making your moan and clench your eyes shut, jaw clenched, san is panting heavily in your ear like a dog in heat at the feeling of your insides. 

“f-fuck,” he pants out, you cringe at the lewd, wet sounds your wound and his fingers are making together. you feel a little embarrassed about it, but the way he reacts makes the heat from your core reappear – as if it even disappeared. you’re just as sick as he is, you think to yourself. your hand comes down to his crotch, palming the noticeable tent in his pants. san lets out a moan, lips crushing yours when your hands travels inside his pants and grabs his cock. 

your tongues do a wild dance, spit running down your chins as his free hand grips your hair and keeps your head in place. the sting from his grip mixed with penetration of your wound sends a pleasurable wave over your body. your hand gives san’s tip a squeeze making him thrust up into your hand. 

“fuckfuckfuck,” san pants out, as you feel him curl his fingers, “feels so good,” he adds, eyes glazed over with a look of lust. 

“s-san,” you moan out as you suddenly both his hands are moving, his left fingers covered in blood that he spreads over the expanse of your body as he moves you to lay down. you let go of his cock, eyes watching as it stands red and angry at being let go. precum beads at the top of his tip trailing down the length of it and the sight makes you even more hornier than you were. 

blood begins to run out of your newly open wound, but san effortlessly uses his powers to stop it. how convenient. you let out a small wince when he bends you in half, yanking your pants and underwear to your knees. “sorry– can’t wait,” he rushes out as you feel his tip rub between your folds that were already slick and easily helping him slip inside of you.  

the two of you let out a string of moans as san enters you, his cock stretching you out and there’s a slight sting to his stretch. only thanks to not having him inside you for the past several months. you honestly were starting to forget how good it felt to have him inside you. san immediately begins to thrusts inside of you, holding onto your legs as leverage. 

“fuck– i forgot how good this pussy is,” he hisses out as his cock hits your g-spot, over and over again. you feel your eyes roll into the back of your head at the feeling, mouth hanging open and moans spilling into the air. the lewd wet sounds from just moments ago, return as san continues to fuck your pussy. your wetness smearing up your thighs and over your ass as his pace doesn’t stop once he finally found a good pace. 

“damn infirmary beds… too fuckin’ small,” he spits out as one of his legs almost fall off the side from how he tries to spread you out more. you feel the head of his cock hitting your sweet spot, head thrown back you feel your climax continue to build up. 

“s-s-san-nie! i’m close!” you tell him, you feel his fingers digging into the backs of thighs as he begins to drill into you with his cock. if you weren’t getting your insides rearranged then you would have been worried about the infirmary bed. thankfully, san’s powers have to do with blood and not strength. 

however, his natural strength was nothing to laugh about. 

you let out a choked sob as you feel yourself coming. san sheathes himself deep inside of you as he also comes. his thick cum painting your walls and even dripping out as san tries to fuck it back into you. he pulls out, running the head and base of his cock between your creamy folds, watching with a daze expression. 

you let a hiss of pain out when your orgasm subsides and the pain from your open wound begins to overtake you. 

san seems to snap out of it as he’s quickly fixing himself and you. he looks at your wound, gently touching it, his fingers still coated in your now dried blood. 

“let me fix you up,” he says, grabbing what he needs and begins to patch up your wound. “there,” he says softly once your wound is closed once more. 

“san…” you say quietly as you sit up. his eyes meet yours, expression unreadable now, but filled with something. 

“does it still hurt?” he asks softly, reaching over to grab new bandages and you shake your head. “good,” he adds, wrapping the new bandages around your abdomen. 

“thanks,” you tell him when he’s done and finally help you put your shirt back on. the earlier mood seemingly settling back between the two of you. mind racing as you think back to how if you had been stronger than you won’t have suffered the wounds you did. you could’ve helped mingi and maybe he would still be here.

“you don’t have to carry this alone,” he tells you softly, snapping you out of your thoughts. you blink, tears welling up again. 

“i… i don’t know how to move forward,” you confess. san places a hand on your shoulder, his thumb brushing lightly against your collarbone. 

“one step at a time. me and seonghwa… we’ll be there with you. for you,” he says, your faces inches apart. the tension between you both is almost visible. neither of you move, the moment hanging in the air before you look away, breaking the spell. 

“thank you.”

san doesn’t respond, but his hand lingers on your shoulder for a moment longer before he pulls away. the two of you sit in silence, the weight of your grief and unspoken emotions filling the room.

ateez compound – common room – day

the compound has become quieter the last few days, somber stillness that reflected the weight of mingi’s death. you sat alone at the kitchen table, which was connected into the common room, staring at the half-empty cup of tea in front of you. the guilt you had been feeling was unbearable. a constant ache in your chest that refused to fade. you replayed the moment over and over again, mind torturing you with the what-ifs. 

wooyoung leaned against the wall nearby, his arms crossed as he stared out the window. every so often his sharp gaze would flicker over to you, who remained unmoving. the tension between them and the rest of the team had been simmering for days, about ready to boil over at any second. 

“you’re really just sitting there?” he finally asked, voice low but cutting. you chose not to respond to him. fingers tightening around the mug instead. “answer me!” wooyoung snapped, stepping closer. now in the kitchen area. “do you feel anything? mingi is dead! and you’re sitting here like it’s just another day!”

you flinched slightly at his words, guilt twisting even tighter, but before you could muster a reply, san stood abruptly from his spot by the other large window in the common room. “that’s enough, wooyoung,” he says, his voice full of warning and danger, not to mention laced with a certain coldness. 

“enough? are you kidding me?” wooyoung sounds offended by san’s words, his eyes blazing as he directs his attention to san. “mingi died because of her! if she hadn't been so–

“don’t you dare fucking finish that sentence,” san cuts him off, stepping close until they were just nearly nose-to-nose with each other. his fists clenched at his sides, just barely able to restrain himself from punching the hero. “you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“i know exactly what i’m talking about,” wooyoung shot back. “she’s clearly a liability. always has been since day one, and now mingi’s gone because of it. i’m surprised yunho isn’t dead too because of her.”

“wooyoung, stop!” yeosang tries to step in, but he was immediately drowned out by the argument. 

san’s jaw tightened, “mingi’s death isn’t her fault. she risked her life to save those passengers and was injured because of that demon. how was she supposed to know an even stronger one was going to show up right after? huh? tell me that.”

wooyoung let out a bitter laugh, one full of anger and disbelief. “you always defend her, don’t you? no matter what she does, you’re always there to protect her. i thought she was one the world’s worst villains, can she not protect herself?”

“and you’re always looking for someone to blame,” san retorts, “mingi wouldn’t want this – wouldn’t want you tearing the team apart because you can’t deal with your grief and personal issues! you’ve been hostile since day one, wooyoung, don’t you have anything else better to do than be this petty?”

wooyoung’s hands balled into fists, elements of fire and ice sparking off both hands, “don’t you dare talk to me about grief! at least i actually cared about mingi. at least i–

“enough!” jongho’s voice echoes through the room as he steps between them, shoving them apart with a firm grip on each of their shoulders. “both of you stop this right now. fighting each other won’t bring him back.” 

san shrugs jongho’s hand off with a huff as he reluctantly steps back. wooyoung scowled but didn’t push further; however, the anger in his eyes didn’t fade. from across the room, seonghwa, who had been silent observing, finally spoke. 

“this isn’t helping anyone. least of all mingi.” 

wooyoung muttered something under his breath that no one caught before storming out of the common room. his footsteps echoing through the hallway. 

yeosang, who had also been watching quietly, approached you. he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, his expression soft as you look up at him with tired eyes. “come on. let’s get out of here for a bit,” he says quietly. you hesitate for a moment before nodding, face pale and drawn from watching san and wooyoung as you let yeosang guide you out of the room. you both walked in silence down the corridor, tension still heavy in the air for everyone. 

“don’t let him get to you,” yeosang says eventually, his voice calm but firm. he does his best in trying to assure you. 

you stopped walking and leaned against the wall, hands trembling. “he’s right, though,” you whispered. “i failed. i couldn’t save mingi.” 

yeosang shook his head, his hands gently coming to support yours, “you did what you could. none of this is your fault, and if it wasn’t for you there would have been a lot more casualties. you did a good thing.” 

tears began to well up in your eyes as you listened to speak, despite trying to blink them away. “it feels like my fault. every time i close my eyes, i see him. he fought so hard, we were supposed to get something to eat after the mission. he promised.” 

yeosang leaned against the wall beside you, his presence steady and grounding. “we’ve all lost people, y/n. but you don’t have to carry this by yourself. you’ve got us to help you through this. we are all figuring this out, together.” 

you looked up at him, vision blurry with tears, yet you still managed a small, grateful smile, “thank you, yeosang.” 

before he could respond, jongho comes rushing down the corridor, expression tense. you don’t think you’ve seen jongho look like this, not since when you first met him a few months ago. “someone’s approaching the compound,” he says breathlessly. 

you and yeosang exchanged a look before you are following after jongho to the main entrance. wooyoung is already there, fists clenched and fire and ice seeping off his fingers. he’s ready just in case. 

then you see them. a long figure staggered closer, silhouette weak and unsteady. it was a young woman. as she came closer, you could tell the three heroes immediately recognized her. she had to be a fellow hero. 

“it’s winter,” yeosang says, eyes flickering over to meet yours. like he was filling you in on who this was. winter? you think you’ve heard that name being tossed around before when you were still in prison. some of the male villains idolizing her, having crushes on her despite her being a hero and them villains.

winter’s uniform was torn and soaked with blood, her face pale and bruised as she nearly collapsed at the entrance. you can’t help but notice how despite her torn uniform and injuries, the light pink shawl with stars on it remained… almost untouched as it draped around her arms. jongho and yeosang rushed over to support her, each of them taking an arm to help steady her as they carefully helped her inside. 

“my team…” winter began to say, her voice weak and trembling as she let out a small gasp, “we were attacked. a-a villain– demon, i don’t know what it was. they’re all dead! i’m– i’m the only one who made it out,” she tells you all, tears beginning to build up in her eyes. 

wooyoung frowned at the news, “you can stay here until hongjoong and yunho get back. they’ll know what to do.” 

you watch as winter’s gaze swept the room before she immediately caught her breath, eyes narrowing when they landed on you, san, and seonghwa. “i didn’t think the rumors were true. that the hero association made you work with villains,” she said, her tone in clear disdain at you and your two lovers. 

you looked away, eyes moving over your team. yeosang looked slightly surprised by her words while jongho, seonghwa, and wooyoung – surprisingly – remained neutral. san; however, looked at winter with a match of disdain, his eyes narrowing on her. like he was trying to figure her out. 

“especially her,” you heard winter say, you snapped your attention back to her, her eyes boring right into you, “everyone knows how dangerous she is.” 

“watch your fucking mouth,” san snapped, his voice sharp and glare icy as he stepped forward. 

“san,” wooyoung’s tone is one of warning, “don’t start.” 

“i’m not starting anything,” he shot back, “but i’m not going to stand here and listen to some crap nonsense.” 

“nonsense?” winter scoffed, “she’s a clear liability. i’m surprised the association even let her out.”

“enough!” san’s voice booms through the room, silencing winter who stares at the villain in shock, “you don’t know anything about her.” he hisses, pointing a finger at her in warning. 

but then wooyoung steps up, “and you don’t know what to back off,” he counters, stepping closer to san. “you’re so blinded by your feelings for her that you can’t see the truth. is her pussy really that good?”

before anyone could react, san punches wooyoung which in turn sends the hero stumbling back and falling to the ground. blood drips from wooyoung’s nose, jaw clenched as he turns to look back at san. 

“say that again, wooyoung. i fucking dare you,” san’s fist are still clenched, waiting for wooyoung to once again run his mouth. 

wooyoung stands up, blood smearing across his face as he attempts to wipe it away, but before he could do anything further with san, yeosang steps between them. “guys, stop!” his voice is sharper and more commanding than you have ever heard from the usually soft-spoken hero. “we have more important things to deal with right now, and none of them involve fighting each other.” 

seonghwa comes and places a calming hand on san’s shoulder, his voice low, “let’s go.” 

san hesitates, his gaze landing on wooyoung before turning and lingering on winter for a moment before turning away. “this isn’t over,” he mutters, allowing seonghwa to guide him and you out of the room. 

as you walked away, you notice san glancing over his shoulder, eyes narrowing once more. you know he was suspicious about winter, something clearly not sitting right with him about her. but he didn’t say anything to either you or seonghwa. keeping his thoughts to himself, you couldn’t deny the sense of unease settled around you three. 

ateez compound – common room – few days later

the atmosphere in the compound had grown overwhelmingly thick with tension over the past several days. winter, oblivious to the tension she was causing, settled into a room and easily integrated herself into the team’s space. her injuries healed surprisingly fast, and she often roamed the halls, stopping sometimes to exchange casual remarks with her fellow heroes. 

wooyoung, for one, didn’t seem to mind her presence. spending more time with her than anyone else has, sharing meals or discussing tactics. he calms he just wants her to feel welcomed, but yeosang tells you he thinks otherwise. winter’s willingness to integrate herself so quickly, barely mourning the grief of her teammates, made san’s suspicions grow with each passing day.

“she’s not who she says she is,” san muttered under his breath during a meeting in the common area. you had chosen to stay in your room, shutting yourself away from everyone. the absence of mingi and the growing tension making you unable to tolerate being in the same room as the others. wooyoung especially. 

wooyoung let out a dramatic sigh, slamming his cup down on the table. “for the last time, san, she’s a hero! she’s on our side!” 

“and you’re so sure of that?” san shoots back, voice low but clearly full of distrust. “she just shows up, conveniently alive after her entire team is killed, and we’re supposed to believe she’s fine?” 

“what’s your problem, huh?” wooyoung counters, standing up from his chair. “are you mad because someone else is able to see how much of a liability you two and y/n are? that you should’ve stayed in prison to rot?”

san’s eyes darkened, his collar digging into his skin, and his fists clenched at his sides, “don’t you dare bring seonghwa and y/n into this.” 

“oh, i’ll bring them into this,” wooyoung says, stepping closer and voice rising. “you’re so suspicious of winter, yet ever since the three of you joined, the number of demon attacks have also increased! and how convenient that when y/n is sent on a mission there’s not one, but two demons from the twelve moons that show up! how is that not suspicious!”

seonghwa, who had been silently observing from the corner, finally speaks up, “both of you, enough. arguing isn’t going to help anything, especially when we need to be a team more than ever.”

“she’s dangerous,” san says through gritted teeth, pointing towards the hallway where winter had disappeared moments ago. 

“and you’re paranoid,” wooyoung snaps back, brushing past san as he leaves the room. 

san exhaled sharply, jaw tight as he sat back down, his mind racing with uneasy thoughts. jongho who had stood at the front of the room let out an annoyed sigh, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“great meeting everybody, glad we got things accomplished,” he says sarcastically.

ateez compound – y/n’s room – ████

your room was shrouded in a heavy stillness, the air thick with the weight of your grief. the blinds were tightly shut, casting the space in darkness. you lay curled up in your bed, knees drawn to your chest, staring at the blank wall. your heart ached with the guilt that continuously gnawed at you, an endless replay of mingi’s final moments in your mind. it was fucking awful. 

a soft knock broke through the silence, but you didn’t respond. had you even heard the knock in the first place?

the door creaked open, and seonghwa stepped inside, carrying a tray of food. his footsteps are quiet as he nears you, as if he understood the weight of the room and how it demanded silence. 

“y/n,” seonghwa’s voice is soft, laced with concern, “you need to eat.”

“i’m not hungry,” you reply, voice hoarse and barely audible. 

seonghwa sighed, setting the tray down on the bedside table before making his way over to the blinds and turning them just a hair to where light was shining in. the room now shrouded in a form of twilight. seonghwa lowers himself onto the edge of your bed. his gaze gentle but insistent, even if you can’t see him. your back facing him, you remain unmoving. 

“you’ve been in here for days. yeosang is worried. we all are,” he tells you, but you know that’s not the case. wooyoung surely isn’t and jongho just chooses to remain… neutral. you know hongjoong would have already killed you if he was here. it felt like a countdown just waiting for him and yunho to return. 

you chose not to respond, gaze fixed on the same spot on the wall. the silence stretched between the two of you, heavy and unyielding. 

without a word, seonghwa shifted closer. he reached out, his hand tentative and slow as he carefully reached up to brush some hair away from your face. his touch was warm, grounding. you didn’t deserve it. “y/n,” he murmured, voice breaking slightly. “please, don’t shut me out,” you feel your heart clenched. 

you eventually turned your head to look at him, eyes glassy with unshed tears. “i failed him,” you whispered, voice trembling. “if i hadn’t been injured in that fight with yena then i could’ve saved him.” 

seonghwa’s heart twists at hearing the anguish in your voice. he lays down beside you, pulling you into his arms. you tried to resist for a moment before giving up, collapsing against him, burying your face in his chest. 

“you didn’t fail him,” he said softly, voice steady despite the emotions threatening to spill over. “you did everything you could.” 

“i could’ve stopped that bastard, seonghwa. i could’ve– 

you cut your own self off as the tears you had been holding back finally broke free. body shaking as the tears began to soak through seonghwa’s shirt. 

“no,” he says, tone firm but gentle. he titled your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “you couldn’t have known. you couldn’t have done anything differently. don’t let this guilt consume you, y/n. you saved all those people on that train from that demon. you did something.” 

you stared at him, tears spilling over as your lips quivered. “i feel like i’m drowning,” you confessed, voice barely a whisper. “i can’t breathe. i can’t… i can’t do this.”

seonghwa’s arms tighten around you, his forehead knocking gently against yours. “you’re not alone,” he said, voice shaking slightly. “you hear me? you’re not alone in this. i’m here, san’s here, yeosang even. and i’ll always be here.” 

your sobs grew louder, emotions spiralling out of control. the room around you both began to shift. the walls ripped like waves, furniture flickered in and out of existence, and the air seemed to hum with an unnatural energy. 

seonghwa noticed but didn’t falter. he held you tighter, attempting to ground you with his presence. “breathe with me,” he whispers, voice soothing. “in and out. just focus on me.” 

you clung to seonghwa as if he were your lifeline, your ragged breaths slowly matching his steady rhythm. gradually, the room settled. the walls returned to their solid state, the flickering ceased, and the unnatural energy faded away. 

you pulled away slightly, face streaked with tears. “i’m scared,” you confessed, voice unstable as you continued. “i’m scared of losing control and hurting people i care about.”

seonghwa cups your face with his hands, thumb gently wiping the tears away. “you’re stronger than you think,” he tells you, voice filled with a quiet sureness. “you’ve been through so much and you’re still here. still fighting. that’s what matters most.” 

you feel your lower lip tremble as you search his eyes, finding only unwavering support and affection. unwavering love. “i don’t know if i can continue doing this alone,” you admitted softly. 

“and you won’t,” he tells you, “you have us. you have me.” 

for the first time in days, you feel a flicker of something other than guilt and grief. hope, perhaps? you let out a shaky breath and rest your forehead against his once again. “thank you,” you whisper, voice full of raw emotions and eyes looking at him with sincerity. 

seonghwa smiles soft, his arms still wrapped around you, “always,” he tells you, leaning over to pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

you felt your breathing steady and tears finally stop, you allowed yourself to lean into him, feeling the weight of your grief just ever so slightly begin to lift. it was good to be reminded that seonghwa was here – san too – and that you weren’t alone. 

ateez compound – winter’s room – night

winter walks down the quiet corridor, her footsteps light and measured as the compound has settled into its usual nightly rhythm. her expression remains neutral, composed – a perfect mask of calm that easily hid the storm beneath. each step brought her closer to her room, where she knew she could let her guard down for a moment. 

she pushed the door open with a soft creaked sound. her hand instinctively reaches for the light switch, but she immediately freezes. 

someone was sitting on her bed. 

the faint light from the hallway cast a silhouette that is both commanding and terrifying. lady nicha.

the door closes behind winter as she immediately drops to both knees, bowing deeply, her head pressed against the cold floor. her voice was steady as she spoke, “lady nicha, i wasn’t expecting you.”

the air in the room felt heavy, suffocating, as if the walls themselves bowed to nicha’s presence. she sat clearly relaxed on the edge of the bed, her posture deceptively casual, but her eyes shined with a predatory sharpness. she tapped her painted, burgundy fingers against her knee. each movement deliberate, echoing in the tense silence. 

“rise,” she then commands, voice smooth yet still laced with authority that left no room for discussion. 

winter raised her body off the ground, still kneeling with her head slightly bowed. her star-patterned shawl shimmering in the moonlight that peeked into the room. “such a disguise you have,” nicha says, voice tilted with fake amusement.

nicha’s lips curved into a slow, wicked smile. “you’ve done well, wonyoung,” she purred, her voice a mix of praise and menace. “to think, they’ve welcomed you so easily and trusted you. allowed you to even sow discord among them, but, ah, i guess that part wasn’t so hard considering their distrust among each other.”

wonyoung tilted her head, her expression one of pride, “it’s as you planned, my lady. the seeds of doubt and tension are starting to blossom. they’re starting to fray at the edges.” 

nicha stood, the air around her growing heavier still. she approached wonyoung, her presence overwhelming. each step she took seemed to dim the light in the room, shadows pooling at her feet and seemed to have a mind of their own. “good,” she said, voice low and deliberate, “but your work is far from over.” 

wonyoung met her gaze for a moment, unwavering despite the oppressive and powerful aura that surrounded nicha. “what would you have me do, my lady?”

“take them out,” she says, tone sharp as a blade. “one by one, if you must. but the female villain, y/n…” she pauses, her eyes narrowing, a cruel smile playing on her lips. “she must suffer. break her and her power will surely destroy the rest.” 

wonyoung nodded, her expression determined, “i won’t fail you.” 

nicha’s smile widened, though it held no warmth. she raised a hand, her fingers brushing wonyoung’s cheek in a mockery of affection. the action, nonetheless, still sent a chill down wonyoung’s spine. “see that you don’t. i have no use for failures.”

the room seemed to pulse with nicha’s presence, the walls vibrating faintly as if the very fabric of reality bent to her will. “remember, child,” she continued, her voice a whisper that felt like a scream to wonyoung. “my power is what allowed you to stand here. do not make me regret granting it to you.” 

wonyoung bowed her head again, voice firm, “i will not disappoint you, lady nicha.”

nicha laughed softly, a sound that sent more shivers down wonyoung’s spine. “good,” she said, her form beginning to dissolve into the shadows that slowly gathered around her. “then go, prove yourself worthy of the power i’ve bestowed upon you.”

with her final words echoing inside the room, nicha’s presence dissolved, leaving the room eerily still. the oppressive weight lifted, but her dominance remained a lingering sense. like a phantom hand clutched wonyoung’s throat, reminding her to not fail. 

then, as the last traces of  nicha’s aura faded, wonyoung straightened up, standing up from the ground as her face hardened. “y/n,” she mumbled, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her features. “let’s see if you’re as strong as they say you are.” 

with a resolute breath, she turned in order to begin preparing for the next phase of her plan. nicha’s commands echoing in her mind, a constant reminder for the price of failure. failure that wasn’t an option for her.

ateez compound – common room – the next afternoon 

the morning light streamed from the compound’s windows and into the common room where jongho and yeosang were. a faint buzz from jongho’s phone interrupted their conversation, which leads him to glancing at the device before quickled opening the message. 

“what is it?” yeosang asks, noticing the subtle tension in jongho’s shoulders. 

“it’s from hongjoong,” jongho replied, voice low. “i told him and yunho about winter being here and what she said happened to her team.”

yeosang frowns, “do you think it's about that?”

jongho didn’t respond immediately, his eyes fully focused on the message as he read it. yeosang notes his face slowly drain of color, hand tightening around the phone. yeosang is afraid the younger hero is going to crush the device if he doesn’t let up. 

“jongho?” yeosang says, his concern growing. “what does it say?”

jongho hesitates, swallowing the lump that forms in his throat, voice with an unusual tremble as he replies, “they found her team… what was left of the bodies were recovered.”

yeosang’s brows furrowed at the news, “that’s awful, but why do you–

“winter’s body was found with them,” jongho cuts him off, voice shaking. 

a chilling silence falls between them, the weight of jongho’s words sinking in. yeosang’s eyes widened in disbelief, “what?”

jongho hands him the phone, letting him read the message himself, “hongjoong says we need to be careful. whoever’s here with us isn’t winter.”

“we need to tell the others now,” yeosang says, despite his mind racing at the sudden thought of potential danger within their own compound. 

jongho nodded, his expression grim as they split up. 

ateez compound – outside training grounds – afternoon 

you sat outside of the compound, enjoying the quietness of nature, but still trying to process everything that has happened over the past few days. your eyes flickered up towards the sky where you saw several crows flying around in a circle. five crows to be exact. their cawing sends a chill down your spine for reasons you can’t quite explain.

odd, you think to yourself. the last time you saw a crow was right after mingi–

the door behind your flies open and you turn to see yeosang running outside towards you. his urgency cutting through the peaceful air. “y/n, we have a problem.”

you meet yeosang halfway, placing a hand on his shoulder, “what’s wrong?”

“winter isn’t who she says she is. her body was found with her team,” he says, not wasting any time

your eyes widened as you process his words, “you’re saying… she’s an imposter?” san was right then, his suspicions that something wasn’t right with winter were true. 

yeosang nods his head, “yes. hongjoong just sent the intel. whoever’s been with us all this time isn’t winter. we need to act now.”

you looked at yeosang, voice calm but urgent as you spoke, “then let’s move. we can’t let her make the first move. where are the others?”

ateez compound – training room – afternoon

in the training area, seonghwa stood next to winter on the sidelines as he watched san and wooyoung spar. jongho enters the room, heart pounding as he approaches wooyoung. 

“wooyoung,” jongho calls out, trying to keep his voice steady as he gives a cautious look to winter. “i need to talk to you. it’s important.”

wooyoung raised an eyebrow, pausing his sparring. after years of working with jongho, he realized that something was wrong with the youngest. he was nervous despite being able to mask it well for the others in the room. “what’s up?”

“let’s talk somewhere else,” jongho says, glancing at winter out of the corner of his eye. 

winter tilted her head, faint smile playing on her lips, “why can’t you say it here?”

jongho hesitated, but before he could answer, san stepped forward, having also picked up on the shift of jongho’s eyes. san’s own eyes narrowing that the female hero, “maybe he doesn’t want you to hear it.”

winter’s smile faltered, her expression sharpening, “i don’t see why that would be a problem? unless, of course, you’re trying to hide something.” 

san let out a dry laugh, the tension almost touchable at this point, “funny, i was about to say the same thing to you.”

wooyoung stepped between them, his own frustration boiling over, “can you stop? this isn’t the time–

“actually,” jongho interrupts him, voice slightly louder now, “this is the time.” he adds as he takes a deep breath, his eyes locked on his teammate. “winter’s team was found, and so was she. dead.” 

the room fell deathly silent. 

then the sound of an unsettling laughter broke it.

the longer the laugh went, the louder and unsettling it became. all eyes turned to winter, who straightened her entire demeanor. she no longer looked like the hero, but instead her platinum blonde hair turning a pitch black. eyes becoming sharper, more dangerous. what were once brown shifted into an unnatural green, her pupils also shifting to where 상위육 could be clearly read. her once delicate features twisted into a cruel smirk as she looked at the group. 

“well,” she says, her voice dripping with mockery and fake disappointment, “it seems the charade is up.”  

san stepped forward, fists clenched, while wooyoung could only stare in shock and betrayal. jongho then spoke up, voice steady and firm, “get ready! this isn’t over!”

wonyoung’s smirk widened, her confidence unshaken, “oh, i’m counting on it.”

wonyoung’s shawl, now wrapped around her waist appears with a snake-patterned, shoot out from her arms, snapping toward san. the sudden attack forces san to leap back, just narrowly avoiding being impaled. wooyoung stumbles back in shock as the ribbons carve into the wall, leaving deep gashes. 

“she’s a demon!” seonghwa says right as the room erupts into chaos with the ribbons coiling and striking with lethal precision. wonyoung whirls, her snake-like ribbons extending and retracting at her will, smashing training dummies and throwing debris into the air. san ducks under one ribbon and slashes another with his hardened blood. the severed ribbon falling lifelessly to the ground. 

seonghwa turns to both wooyoung and jongho, “go, we’ll handle her!” jongho nods his head, turning towards wooyoung who is clearly hesitating for a moment. jongho grabs the older by the arm pulling him out of the training room. 

“come on, wooyoung, we need to send a message to the association!” wooyoung snaps out of his daze and nods, the two males rushing out and leaving the two villains to take care of the demon. 

“not just any type of demon, too, but a part of the twelve moons,” san says with gritted teeth. “but her upper six status means she should just be child’s play.”

seonghwa moves in from the side, his strikes calculated, but wonyoung twirls gracefully, her ribbons creating a barrier that easily deflects his attacks. she laughs, her voice echoing eerily throughout the room. 

“you think you can defeat me? how adorable.”

one ribbon wraps around san’s arm, lifting him off the ground and slamming him into a wall. he lets out a groan but manages to twist free and lands on his feet just as seonghwa launches a flurry of attacks. his sheer strength blowing through several of wonyoung’s ribbons. the demon’s movements are fluid, almost dance-like, as she dodges and counters. 

“she’s toying with us,” seonghwa says to san. 

“not for long,” he replies before charging forward, his blood shaped into hardened weapons. he slices through one of the ribbons, which recoils with a hiss, but two more easily snap towards him. seonghwa intercepts, his fist catching the ribbon mid-strike and easily ripping it apart. 

“impressive, but let’s see how long you last,” wonyoung purrs. she then slams her hand into the ground, ribbons erupt in every direction, tearing through the floor. san and seonghwa are forced to separate, dodging the onslaught. san sprints along the edge of the room, dodge debris, while seonghwa rushes head on, leaping into the air for higher ground. 

“seonghwa, now!”

seonghwa drives his clawed fist downward towards wonyoung. she blocks with her ribbons, but san takes the opportunity to strike from the side, slicing through another ribbon and grazing her arm. wonyoung hisses in pain, her composure faltering for the first time. 

“you’ll pay for that!” she snaps, her ribbons lash out wildly, one catching seonghwa in the side and throwing him across the room. he crashes into a pile of rubble, groaning in pain. san dodges and weaves, landing another strike on wonyoung, but she quickly retaliates by wrapping a ribbon around his ankle and yanking him off his feet. 

“let… go, damnit!” san swipes his blood through the ribbon, slicing it and rolling to his feet. he and seonghwa regroup, their breathing heavy. “been awhile since we’ve been this out of breath together, huh?” san comments with a smirk making seonghwa roll his eyes. 

wonyoung glares at them, blood trickling from a wound on her forehead, “enough of this!” she extends her arms, ribbons converge into a massive, writing mass above her head. with a deafening crack, she sends it crashing down towards the two villains. they dive in opposite directions, the impact leaving a large crater in the floor. 

“we need to end this now,” seonghwa says, a frown drawn across his face. san nods, his expression grim. they continue to launch several attacks, san striking high while seonghwa goes low. wonyoung struggles to keep up, her movements becoming more erratic as the two villains close in. finally, san manages to land a deathly blow, his blood blade slicing through her neck in one clean cut. 

wonyoung’s head falls from her body and to the floor, her body slumping to the floor on her knees. seonghwa and san are left panting, their bodies fighting to keep up with the fight they just went through. they both look down at the demon’s body, and that’s when they notice that wonyoung’s head and body isn’t disintegrating. 

instead, wonyoung’s head rolls around, body jerking to life as she begins to wail like a child, her voice piercing and unsettling. the sight of her still being alive sends a chill down both villains’ spines. 

“what the–

“this isn’t fair! this isn’t fair!” she wails out, fisting slamming against the ground as fat crocodile tears run down her face. “i was supposed to kill you all! devour you all! oppa, help me! oppa!” 

seonghwa and san freeze, expressions a mix of confusion and horror as they watch wonyoung’s body begin to convulse. her body jerks forward as the sound of flesh tearing fills the air as wonyoung’s back splits open. san is quick to realize another figure was crawling out of her body and jumps straight into action. 

his blade striking down, dusting covers the room as wonyoung’s cries fall silent for a moment. and for a split second san and seonghwa both think he’s managed to kill the new demon. 

“shh, i’m here,” a voice speaks behind both of them. both seonghwa and san whirl around to see the new demon crouched in front of a still sobbing wonyoung. reattaching her head to her body like it was nothing. 

“sunghoon-oppa, it's not fair!” wonyoung cries out as the male demon gives his sister a crooked smile. 

“it’s okay now,” he says, patting her head before standing. his eyes matching wonyoung’s reading 상위육 – upper six – and his expression is hardened. “i’ll take care of them. go handle the others,” he says, addressing wonyoung. wonyoung nods, her ribbons snapping menacingly as she quickly teleports away. 

before either villain can react, sunghoon teleports behind them, his movements too fast to track. “shall we begin?”

san lets out a huff as he grabs seonghwa and rushes out of the training room and into the courtyard of the compound. sunghoon easily follows after them, his body emanating dark, almost snake-like energy. instead of ribbons like wonyoung, sunghoon has dangerous, fang-shaped blades coming out of his forearms.

“you gave up your humanity, was it worth it? becoming a puppet for the villains just to survive?” san asks, eyes narrowing as looks at sunghoon. 

“i didn’t do this for survival,” he replies back coldly, but there’s a faint undertone of pain almost, “i did it to protect my sister. everything i’ve done – every choice i’ve made was to keep her safe.” 

seonghwa steps forward, voice sharp, “and now you’re dragging her into the abyss with you.” 

sunghoon’s smirk falters at seonghwa’s words, “the abyss is kinder than the world that the hero’s call justice. the heroes and their association… they don’t protect anyone. you should know that better than anyone here.”

without warning, sunghoon attacks with his blades clashing against san’s blood. san manages to roll away, sending blood spikes towards the demon who easily dodges them. 

“you talk big, but i don’t see much strength,” san says. 

sunghoon chuckles at san, “you haven’t seen anything yet.” 

sunghoon continues to launch himself at the two villains, his blades clashing and creating sparks as seonghwa and san either parry his attack or dodge them. one of sunghoon’s blades manage to cut against seonghwa’s arm, the male hissing as he looks down at it. 

“his blades are poisonous,” seonghwa hisses out. 

“then we’ll need to hurry up and kill him before the poison kills us,” san says, jaw clenched as he used his blood to create two swords, tossing one to seonghwa who easily catches it with his uninjured arm. the fight only begins to escalate as sunghoon launches a flurry of attacks, twirling in the dance with his blades, glistening with venom, attempting to slice and cut at both san and seonghwa. 

seonghwa trembles, feeling the weight of his injury and battle getting to him. he knew he could never fully control himself when he transform, but seonghwa knew that his monstrous strength would help push them to win against this fight. 

the air around them began to grow colder with a creeping chill that seeped into the bones of both san and sunghoon. san attempted to reach out to seonghwa, but with one shove it sent san flying back and tumbling to the ground. 

“fuck,” he mumbles as he watches seonghwa. his body contorting with an unsettling and sickening sound of sounds cracking as his frame elongated. joints bending in grotesque and inhuman angles. his skin took on a deathly pale, almost translucent hue – it was the complete opposite of his usual sun-kissed skin – veins began to pulse dark and prominent beneath the surface. 

his once calm and calculating expression now twisted into something monstrous, a predator. his teeth sharpened, canines elongating like his body did into jagged points where the sole purpose was to tear at flesh. san felt his heart sink as he continued to watch as seonghwa’s eyes even turned into black voids that looked at every and anything with an unnatural and sick hunger. his fingers stretched, nails hardening into proper, monstrous claws that were just waiting to tear into its next target. 

sunghoon looked at seonghwa’s monstrous form, completely caught off guard and his usual strong facade faded for a moment. “what are you?” he hisses out, “what kind of demon are you?” 

seonghwa responded with a loud roar that sent shockwaves across the area and he lunged at the demon with his large, grotesque form. seonghwa was able to attack sunghoon with his bone-like antlers, slashing into the demon and sending him flying backwards and leaving a deep.

san is able to adjust quickly, using seonghwa’s sudden transformation and attacks as distractions to land more precise strikes.

ateez compound – control room – night 

yeosang lets out a shaky breath as he reached the control room. running over, he begins to type frantically on the condole, sweating beading down his forehead as he attempted to contact both hongjoong and yunho, but also the hero association. suddenly, the glow of the monitor flickers as a shadow looms behind him. he feels his ear twitch as the sound of a faint hiss, wonyoung’s ribbon snakes dart forward like some fanged vipers. 

you burst in, sword slashing through the first set of ribbons before wonyoung can even register that you are in the room. the severed ends writhe on the floor before quickly retracting. the ends you cut off, fell to the floor seemingly turning back into pieces of fabric. 

“go! send the message, yeosang!” you shout to him as you stand between him and wonyoung. hesitates for a moment, looking between you and wonyoung. “now, yeosang!” you shout louder. yeosang nods before quickly sending the message. 

you can hear his ragged breathing, clearly surprised and a little terrified by the demon in front of you both. you turn to look at him for a moment before gesturing towards the door. “be careful,” he whispers before making a bolt for the door. wonyoung’s head tilts as she watches him flee. 

“heroes are so predictable, always running,” she taunts with a hiss. 

you roll your shoulders, sword gripped tightly between your hands, “looks like it's just you and me.”

wonyoung lets out a tsk sound before lunging at you, her ribbons weaving in intricate patterns, each one snapping towards you like a striking snake. you manage to parry most of them with your sword, slicing through some as sparks fly with metal meeting energy. 

“you can’t keep this up forever,” wonyoung says with a smirk. 

“good thing i don’t need forever,” you told her, breathless and through gritted teeth. you roll to the side as a ribbon smashes into the console behind you, shattering the screen. you charge forward, slicing through multiple ribbons, but one catches your ankle, yanking you off balance. 

you land hard, coughing as the wind is knocked out of you. before you can recover, a ribbon snakes around your wrist, picks you up and slams you into the wall. blood trickles from your forehead, some of it running into your eye, but you quickly wipe it away. 

“what’s the matter? too weak to save yourself?” wonyoung asks mockingly, her ribboned snakes almost floating around her like extra arms. you grit your teeth, eyes glowing faintly as you feel your power begin to flare. you channel your energy into your sword, severing the ribbon holding your wrist. 

“you talk too much,” you say fiercely. you lunge again, blade igniting with light. wonyoung retreats, her ribbons forming a barrier around her. you leap, slashing downward with all your strength. the barrier shatters into pieces of limp fabric, and wonyoung stumbles back, clutching a deep wound across her shoulder. 

wonyoung scowls, her ribbons writhing wildly around her, “you’ll regret that!” 

wonyoung summons more ribbons, these even more thick and serpent-like that before, ones with glowing eyes and fangs. they hiss and dart towards you, and you just barely manage to dodge them. one snake grazes your side, tearing through your uniform and leaving a deep, bleeding gash. 

you press your hand against the wound, feeling that the snake had torn through the stitches of your wound and made it even deeper. blood pooling out and staining your clothes a deep burgundy. you let out a small hiss in pain, managing to steady yourself as you look towards wonyoung with narrowed eyes, “i’ve faced worse than you.”

“i can guarantee you’ve never faced someone like me.” 

the fight continues to become more intense, the control room becoming a battlefield of destroyed debris and shredded fabric everywhere. your sword blazes as you cut through the ribboned snakes, but wonyoung is relentless as her snakes continue to regenerate faster than you can destroy them 

jongho and wooyoung rush into the control room, when they arrive they find the place basically destroyed and you on one knee, blade digging into the ground for support. 

wooyoung immediately feels his rage build up, turning to wonyoung who looks at the three with a mocking smile, blood dripping from her wound you had given her earlier. “you lied to us! tricked us!” he says furiously, his fist catching on fire. 

“and you fell for it so easily. how pathetic,” she says, clearly amused by wooyoung’s anger. 

wooyoung begins to charge, but you reach out to grab his arm, stopping him. “don’t let her get in your head. it’s what she wants,” you say weakly. 

wooyoung simply glares at you, ripping his arm out of your grasp like you’re the one with fire powers, “she doesn’t deserve mercy!”

“wooyoung, focus! don’t let your anger get you killed,” jongho snaps.

“oh, how sweet,” wonyoung says with a laugh, “the little team trying so hard to hold it together.” 

you give both wooyoung and jongho a look as you steady yourself, sweat dripping from your forehead and mixing with blood. you can slowly start to feel the blood loss beginning to affect you, but you push forward and ignore it. the three of you quickly begin to attack in unison, combining abilities in order to overwhelm wonyoung. jongho slams his fists into the ground, sending shockwaves that manage to throw the demon off balance. wooyoung sends several fire and ice blasts towards her ribbons, even sending ice shards that pin them to the walls. 

you take advantage of the opening, rushing forward and delivering a deep slash across wonyoung’s abdomen. 

wonyoung lets out a snarl, “you think you’ve won?” her ribbons explode outward, throwing the three of you back. jongho grunts as he takes the brunt of the impact, shielding you and wooyoung. 

“thanks,” you say breathless to jongho.

“don’t thank me yet,” he says. 

wonyoung begins to unravel, her ribbons coming together to form a massive snake that towers over you guys. she sends the snake striking downward, its mouth opening up and ready to swallow you whole. wooyoung; however, leaps at the massive snake head, fist ablaze as he strikes it and easily catches it on fire. it screeches as it burns and dissolves, but another snake wraps around him and constricts him. 

“wooyoung!” you yell as jongho rushes up and grabs the snake, able to pry it off of wooyoung. his raw strength easily overpowering it. the three of you regroup, panting and bloodied. 

“keep your head in the fight. we need to end this,” you say, pointedly towards wooyoung who refuses to meet your eyes in the moment. 

jongho nods, “together.” 

you guys decide to combine your power, jongho creating another shockwave to destabilize the demon, wooyoung’s ice shards pinning her in place, and you channeling your remaining energy into your blade. 

“it’s over,” you say, leaping forward and delivering the killing blow, severing wonyoung’s head. she lets out a loud cry as her head goes flying, your powers being able to create a large crater in the wall that connects you all to the courtyard where you can see san and seonghwa’s monstrous form fighting sunghoon. 

in the courtyard, sunghoon falters for a second as wonyoung’s cry echoes through the compound. his distraction allows seonghwa to attack with feral blows. while san lands a devastating blow, driving his blade across sunghoon’s neck and sends his head flying. 

sunghoong’s head lands towards where wonyoung’s head had landed. wonyoung crying out for sunghoon, tears streaming down her face. 

“oppa… i’m scared,” she says weakly, the tears continuing to fall. 

“it’s okay, little one, i’m here,” sunghoon says back, voice breaking as he begins to watch as wonyoung’s body and head dissolve. seemingly not caring that his own is doing the same thing. finally, their bodies and head turn to ash, the wind blowing them away. 

seonghwa falls to his knees, having transformed back into his human self. you limp towards san and seonghwa, collapsing next to seonghwa, arms wrapping around him as the tension in the air remains heavy. 

“it’s okay,” you say quietly as you hold seonghwa in your arms, just like how he has done for you. 

ateez compound – courtyard – dawn

the team gathers, battered and bloodied, in the courtyard. the compound was completely destroyed by the two demons. hongjoong and yunho rush in, their expressions dark and grieve-stricken as they take in the scene before.

“what happened?” hongjoong asks, voice low and slightly commanding. 

“we stopped them,” jongho answered, exhaustion heavy in his voice as he leaned against a piece of debris. 

you lean against a wall, glancing down at your hands, yeosang doing his best to patch your wound up. san sitting next to seonghwa, still comforting the villain, calming hand running down his back. wooyoung stares blankly, fists clenched.

“i trusted her…” he says quietly.

“she fooled all of us. don’t put that on yourself,” jongho says firmly. he turns to hongjoong and yunho before quietly filling them in on everything that happened. otherwise, you and the rest of the team sit in silence, the weight of the destroyed compound heavy in the air.

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART II

[getvalentined]

Thinking about Sephiroth's motivations in Rebirth and getting super emotional because fuck, man, I get it. I get it. It doesn't excuse anything, but I get it in a way I can't even describe.

The Gi establish that those who aren't native to Gaia can't join the Lifestream basically at all, they're held separate entirely; the Gi have never been in it directly, their ghosts wander in a little liminal space they crafted for themselves. This is because they're entirely foreign—the Gi appear to be interdimensional travelers that were somehow marooned on Gaia at some point in ancient history, where they died and were left as ghosts, lingering forever unable to move on.

Sephiroth is slightly different in that he was born on Gaia and he does have human parents as well as Jenova, so he can force his way into the Lifestream as we saw in Lifestream Black and Advent Children, but he can't disseminate into it. He's still conscious and cognizant in some capacity even as the Lifestream fights to strip away the parts of him that belong on the planet, the parts of him that were human. This is, presumably, why his memory is all fucked up postcanon, whether we're talking novels or spinoffs; the Lifestream has been trying to take him but it can't, because there's too much Jenova in him, so the parts of him that have survived are just the parts that are the son of Jenova. He hasn't been fully worn down by the time the Crisis rolls around, likely because his body is still partially intact in the Northern Crater. (Again, see Lifestream Black, as well as the OG.)

And here's where everything starts to hurt.

He's alone. No matter what Sephiroth does, he's entirely, completely alone. There is nothing in the world like him, the planet won't accept him—it's not death, it's a homecoming, and Sephiroth has nowhere to go home to.

And he's done this before, this is a repeating timeline, he's been through this before over and over and over. And he's always alone in the end. He's always there at the edge of creation, the end of all things, the kindling of a new universe, and he's still there. All alone.

So this time he's calling for the ultimate Reunion. He's not just calling his Clones home, he's pulling all of time and space together into a single planet, bolstered with the lingering Lifestream of hundreds, thousands of others, timelines where things fell apart and Gaia sat on the precipice of death before Sephiroth found her and tore the Lifestream loose to feed the timeline he's chosen as the most likely to survive.

Three friends go into battle. One is captured (Genesis, in Deepground), one flies away (Angeal, who chose his own death), and the one who remains becomes a hero.

Heroes save the world.

But it doesn't matter, does it? Because he's going to be alone. Zack asks how he could turn his back on everything, and he says "Easily." Aerith asks how he could possibly want an eternity alone—because she doesn't understand, that's what Sephiroth has waiting for him anyway. That's all he's ever had waiting for him.

Sephiroth is going to save a world that will never accept him, because that's what heroes do, and then he's going to be alone forever. But this time, for the first time in every timeline he's experienced, he's going to do it on his own terms. He knows what he is, he knows how this ends, he has no questions of that. But for once in his existence—and it's a long existence, unending, eternal in a way that neither human nor Cetra could never even comprehend—he's going to control exactly how that happens.

Sephiroth knows he can't control whether or not he ends up alone, but he can choose how it happens. He can do things right this time. Maybe if he saves the world it will be different. Maybe the planet will accept him. Maybe he won't be alone.

And if he is (and he knows he will be), at least it was on his own terms.

At least, for once in the whole of creation, Sephiroth had a single flicker of control over his own existence. For once in the entirety of existence, Sephiroth made a decision for himself.

He'll have to live with that decision, alone, for eternity—but it was his.

[goodlucktai]

15. "This is going to hurt, okay?" with leo for your zombie apocalypse au (maybe leo losing his arm??)

dialogue prompts

15. “This is going to hurt, okay?”

x

When the initial outbreak hit New York City like a bomb, Splinter was adamant that they bunker down in the Hidden City until the world was safe again. One almost-apocalypse was enough for him, thank you. This second one could be someone else’s problem.

Frankly, Donatello could see the merit in that. For those initial frightening forty-eight hours he was all but glued to the TV. A handful of staff and one anchor had remained barricaded in the Channel 6 news room, broadcasting what information they could until the station ultimately went dark like all the others. And what they had to share was grim. 

Whistleblowers had been quick to throw CEO Theo Audrey’s pharmaceutical subsidiary under the bus as the catalyst, claiming the corporation was in the business of bioweapons. Whether or not that was true, it gave the world a name for the violently aggressive infected: Auds. 

Raphael argued that they had the ability to help people, which meant they had the responsibility to. He was more careful with the word ‘hero’ than he used to be, careful in general with what he said around impressionable little brothers who wanted to live up to whatever idea he had in his head that they should be. But it was obvious to all of them what he thought was the right thing to do. 

They had all looked at Leo then, their fearless leader. He was still growing into the role, but he had always been the voice of common sense that kept their heads above water.

Leo didn’t say anything right away, his mind racing ahead as he chased the thread of each argument to its end. He could account for inevitabilities and pitfalls and curveballs as easily as if it was all one big game of chess. 

And finally he came to the decision he could live with, and said, “Raph’s right. We have to help who we can. But we’ll be safe, papa.”

That was three months ago. The world is still ending, and no cure is in sight, and Donatello doesn’t want to think about how those without portal magic are surviving when they have no choice but to venture out for food or water or medicine.

Sometimes he thinks Splinter was right. Other times he thinks about all the people who are still alive only because of his brothers’ inherent goodness and he can’t imagine having done anything else. 

Today, the portal that brings the patrol team home is orange, not blue. Donnie’s heart is in his throat even before he processes the screaming. 

“POPS!” Raph’s voice tears through the lair. He hasn’t sounded that frightened since those seconds before the Technodrome exploded in the sky. “Donnie, April—somebody!” 

Donnie bursts out of the tunnel into the terminal that makes up their living room and all the air leaves his lungs at once. 

Raph’s hands are bloody, and Mikey is crying, and Leo is writhing in their big brother’s hold. The once-bright yellow hoodie Mikey had been wearing that morning is stained an ugly rust color and pressed hard against Leo’s right arm.

“Shh, hey, it’s okay, we’re home,” Raph murmurs, none of the panic on his face making it into his trembling voice. “Raph’s gotta show Don. This is gonna hurt, okay?” He peels away the hoodie, fighting Leo’s grip on his own arm to do it. Leo chirps in distress, and it’s horrible, and Raph all but trips over himself to soothe, “I know, baby, hold on. Hold on.” 

He finally reveals a gruesome, gaping tear in the flesh above Leo’s elbow. The edges are shaped like teeth.

“No,” Donnie says. 

“We found a few families trapped in an apartment building. One of them had a little girl and she—” Mikey manages to choke out. “She started crying. It was so loud. The Odds swarmed the level we were on in seconds.”

No, is all he can think. No no no.

What apocalypse? The world is ending right here. The world is in Raph’s arms, bleeding and gasping and dying. 

“Move,” Draxum says, as good as appearing out of thin air. Donnie’s situational awareness is apparently nonexistent right now but he still hears it when Splinter dashes into the room a second later, if only because of the wounded sound his father makes. 

Draxum places his hands on Leo’s wounded arm just above the bite and they begin to glow. Donnie loses the strength in his legs before he completes the last couple steps between himself and his brothers, so he just crawls the rest of the way. He takes his twin’s hand and pretends there is nothing that could force him to ever let go. 

“From what we have seen, the infection turns a new host in a manner of minutes,” Draxum says, expression fierce with focus. “How long did it take you to get him home?”

“Um,” Mikey says, scrambling to grab hold of something other than grief and fear the way he would rifle chaotically through the mess of sticker paper and sketchbooks on his desk for the right color copic or drawing pen. Blinking hard and rubbing away fresh tears on his sleeve, their youngest finds the courage to do anything besides just wail and scream the way they all would like to and says, “It wasn’t right away. My portals aren’t instant like L—like Lee’s are. I have to, um, draw the sigils in my mind the way you taught me.”

“Four minutes,” Raph offers. “And twenty-one seconds,” he adds a beat later. “Raph was counting.”

He leans down and presses his cheek to Leo’s forehead. He isn’t saying goodbye, but he’s holding close just in case. He’s giving Leo something sweet to go out on if he has to go. He’s crying, too, a steady, silent drip.

Splinter strokes Leo’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. Donnie isn’t brave enough to look at him. He can’t look at anyone. 

There is no other way for this to end. There isn’t a cure. Any bite or scratch is an instant death sentence. Then Donnie’s twin would become something else, a violent, hungry shell of someone once good and loved, and they would have to deal with that. They would have to see it, the ugly wretchedness of it, and never make peace with it for as long as they lived. 

And yet— 

“He should have turned by now,” April says from just behind Donnie. Her voice is shaking, and she looks like she wants to collapse where she’s standing, but she still manages to claw something shaped like hope out of the worst moment of their lives. “That’s what you’re saying.”

“That’s what I’m saying. This virus is human in nature—mortal. There is a reason the Hidden City is unaffected. Yokai are creatures of magic. In much the same way I could not catch the flu from you, O’Neil, we cannot be infected by Odds. You Hamato call yourselves mutants, but you are yokai. At least in part.”

“And you wouldn’t have thought to mention something like this sooner?” Splinter hisses, something close to hate in his voice. 

“How would you have liked me to test it, Lou?” Draxum bites back. 

“Shut up,” April says. “What does that mean, Barry?”

“It means the virus has been isolated at the site of the infection,” Draxum says. “It will not remain that way for long. It will spread, very slowly, and eventually take him. This pain that he is in will not wane until he is gone. We must act before it is too late.”

Donatello’s mind is as quick as Leonardo’s, even though they are constantly racing down different avenues. He understands what Draxum has not yet said. What exactly he’s proposing. 

They have to remove the site of the infection.

“I can’t do that,” he blurts, too loud.

“Someone must,” Draxum replies, not pulling any punches. “If you want it to be me, then it will be me.”

“What are you talking about?” Mikey says. “Dee?”

Donnie can’t speak. He presses his forehead to the corner of Leo’s that isn’t crammed fitfully against Raph’s shoulder. 

It’s a terrible risk. Amateur amputations are the stuff of nightmares. And it might not even work. There’s no precedent. There’s just a one in a million chance and a family desperate enough to take it.

“Leo,” he whispers. “Hey. Nardo. Please. I can’t just. I need you to—I need you to tell me it’s okay. Lee. I need you to tell me what to do.” 

He feels it almost instantly, the click and connect of a mind meld. Leo’s mind flows into Donnie’s as effortlessly as it has every time they’ve done this before, the mischievous wind of his ninpo breezing through Donnie’s lightning storm like the skies they belong to are one and the same. 

There isn’t a conversation. Leo’s thoughts are muddled, fever-bright and confused, not at all like the shape they take when the wickedly clever slider is feeling like himself. But Donnie hears him anyway. 

He understands just from this instant of togetherness that Leo doesn’t want to leave them. He wants to stay where they are. He would do anything to stay. 

Donnie parts from him with a gasp. His siblings watch him avidly, tears streaming down their faces unchecked. Leo looks tiny in Raph’s arms. There’s already so little of him, and now they are going to whittle him down even more. 

But the helpless screaming fear is no longer the loudest thing in Donnie’s head. It’s drowned out by the deafening rumble of a storm, that faraway sky that flashes with purple lightning and playful gales of blue. Nothing could be louder than the two of them when they have something to prove. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” he says, one hand on his twin’s plastron over the spot where that fearless, unyielding heart beats for them. “Hear me? I’m taking this arm, but I’ll give you back a better one.” 

The air goes out of the room as all of his siblings and his father suck in a breath and hold it. Raph’s grip on Leo tightens, as if he needs just one more second in a world where this doesn’t have to happen, where there’s another way. 

Then he lifts his mismatched eyes and there’s only trust there when he looks at Donnie. Mikey’s hand grips the wrist of the one Donnie has on Leo. April puts her arm around Mikey.

They’re all here. They’re all going to stay right here.  

[pikatsum]

Lights, Camera, Chaos | 1 | Todoroki Shouto / Reader

Summary: You and Shouto are forced to make your first televised appearance as a couple. What starts as an embarrassing invasion of privacy completely upends itself once you realize just how cutthroat the world of reality TV can get.

Tags & Warnings: Reader uses she/her pronouns, Quirkless Reader, Pro-Hero Shouto.

Part of the Pretty Boy Summer collab! [cross-posted on ao3]

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Being the partner of a pro-hero was the kind of thing that should really come with an instruction manual. And emblazoned on uncoated paper stock beneath chapter one, the golden rule that nine of ten couples managed to break: keep it on the down-low.

Those who didn’t faced the consequences— particularly civilians.

Their faces were ultimately the ones that got splashed across the front page of every gossip-rag in Japan. They became public pariahs, their names repeated ad nauseam on the news, whispered with glee in hair salons and social clubs. In the story of their life, everything became forfeit to the public— their friends, their profession, their dating history, their homes. All of it.

Now, for nearly three months, you’d been one of them. At the end of the day, that was the noodles’ fault, really.

The summer after culinary school, you’d scored your first full-time role, working as the head chef in a small noodle shop just a few blocks from your college campus, at the edge of the city. The owner, Okuda-san, had been in business for years, but the dreams of grandeur that had brought him to central Mustafau as a young man had long since been struck by reality. Though the quality of his meals had never diminished, he’d vastly scaled back his operations over the last ten years— gone was the opulent restaurant in the center of downtown with its sleek metallic architecture and warm ambient lighting. Gone too was his wife, or so you suspected, based on the mutterings you could pick up from the front office, when business ran slow.

The day you met Shouto, the rain had been coming down in sheets, blurring the windows and filling the reception area with a soothing white-noise as you oversaw reservation bookings, dinner preparations and engaged in a small bit of gossip-gathering on the side. It was that same rain that had led you to warn him about the biodegradable styrofoam that his takeout was packed in, and offer the restaurant’s tiny enclave seating to avoid having his meal ruined by the deluge. You’d shared polite conversation— mostly offering tips for balancing buckwheat dough to make proper soba noodles.

Over time, the street in front of Okuda-san’s little shop had become a well-worn patrol path for Shouto’s agency. Conversations turned to texts, and invitations out with his friends. After an unhealthy amount of pining, you’d finally steeled your nerves enough to ask him on a date— an awkward but effective kickstart to almost two years of the best relationship you’d ever had.

There truly was no protocol for having such an intimate piece of yourself revealed to the public, to millions of your partner’s diehard fans. There weren’t words to describe the moment you first laid eyes on the incriminating photo that had started all of this: the two of you, sharing a kiss on the way up to your apartment. Your longing, exacerbated by Shouto’s tedious travel schedule had faced off against your building’s perpetually-slow elevator doors and came up short.

One grainy picture, posted to one account incited a slew of Internet detectives, stealing your anonymity in a matter of hours.

At the very least, you’d been blissfully unaware at first— overlooking the increasing stares from the diners at Okuda-san’s, and glossing over the fact that the cab driver knew your name on the way home. You’d remained blissfully ignorant up until arriving home to find Shouto on the doorstep, still in his costume. He’d quickly shepherded you up to your apartment and barricaded the door. In full pro-hero mode, he’d guided you through the essentials to pack in a duffel bag, and then quickly brought you back to his, to wait out the full extent of the madness.

The worst of it was concentrated in that first two weeks. You’d been unable to turn on the TV without hearing the diminutive nickname the media had chosen for you— “Noodle Legs”— coupled with the same clip of Shouto guiding you up the steps into his high-rise building, over and over. Unfortunately, your legs had been wobbling, as the full magnitude of what was happening had finally begun to set in. In those first days, you’d sequestered yourself in the guest room with the blinds drawn, the drone of the TV only semi-effective against the catastrophizing taking place in your mind.

The public had judged your relationship with Shouto and you clearly had not met expectations. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Even a decade on from the war that had rewritten the operations of superhuman society, competent wasn’t a word that paired well with Quirkless.

As the media storm raged, you had never seen Shouto so upset. In the first few days, his schedule was particularly erratic, his whereabouts always announced by text and sticky notes left on your door, or the bathroom mirror in tight, neat script. Often, he was out amidst the public, speaking to media outlets on his own, trying to stem the influx of public opinion about you that had become the nation’s topic de jour. As you slowly began to emerge from your cocoon of solitude, you saw just how oppositely this ordeal was affecting him.

When he was home, Shouto paced, relentlessly. He completed a book of Sudoku puzzles as you absently cooked enough udon to feed a small army— or at least four of his pro-hero friends. Each night, he scarcely settle in on the couch next to you before noticing a stray sock or a flickering lightbulb, some small thing to put right. Nothing was enough, anymore, and even as you asked him to come to bed— his bed— he only ever seemed to sleep on the couch, if at all.

After nearly a week, his mania and your melancholy finally collided, spectacularly. You could still remember the whisper of the paper against the hardwood, as it slid under the bedroom door, late that night. Nearly two pages offered a handwritten letter apologizing for the upheaval of your entire life, and his absence in the aftermath. The third carefully recorded the plan he’d been building to mitigate the fallout, mentioning the friends he’d enlisted to help him and proposed ideas for a manufactured scandal, enough to take the limelight off you. That moment of shade, he argued, would allow you to distance yourself.

“I promise to help you establish a future that will make you happy.” the letter concluded, “And I understand, if that future no longer includes me.”

It was carefully-worded, largely self removed and so quintessentially Shouto that it nearly broke you all over again. Not much about your future was determined that night, apart from one, indelible truth: you didn’t want a future without Shouto in it. If that meant you’d have to face the public— the cameras and opinions and bigotry— so be it.

You’d casually perused enough gossip magazines to know the general strategies that hero & civilian relationships used, publicly. Some couples went on luxurious (sponsored) vacations, their devotion shamelessly showcased through glossy magazine spreads and corny ‘What’s in Our Suitcase?’ Q&As. Others used their moment in the limelight to launch one partner’s passion project — a private art studio, a taproom, a crossfit gym— often trendy, always overcrowded and never necessary public infrastructure.

The rest wrote memoirs. So. Many. Memoirs. You’d just finished “Catching the Copycat. — How I Fell in Love with Phantom Thief” earlier that month, and it wasn’t half bad. Amidst the unending slew of public attention and the realization that you were going to have to market yourself somehow, the idea of writing a novel was contenting. At the very least, your partner’s versatile Quirk meant there was no end to the pithy puns you could come up with for a title.

And then, Shouto’s PR team put out a press release announcing that the two of you would be starring in the next episode of Split Shift— the Hero Network’s one and only reality television program.

‘Think you’ve got what it takes to be a hero? Think again!” announced its pithy tagline, in the promotional packet,’ Each week, Split Shift lets its viewers experience a day in the life of the nation’s top defenders, exposing their personal sides, through the eyes of their inner circle!.’

The two of you had tried to fight it. Oh, how you had tried, your combined efforts quickly spawning endless hours of email chains. But Shouto’s public relations team was relentless— apparently, the clamor of the public for more details, photos, evidence of your leaked relationship was stronger than any villain in the known universe. And without it, they warned, Shouto’s rank in the heroics charts was severely at risk.

“I’m sure you’re aware,” Omori Mika, Shouto’s head of PR, explained, fingers flying across her keyboard as a window of metrics popped up, “a significant portion of Shouto’s fanbase finds him anywhere from “considerably” to “highly” attractive. Early this year, he dethroned Best Jeanist to win Quirk’d Magazines’ “Hottest Hero Alive.”

“Oh, yes— well deserved.” you nodded, sparing a glance to your own well-loved copy, resting on the coffee table. The cover-shot had really captured his intensity, the haunting contrast of his heterochromatic gaze in low lighting.

From the other side of the couch, Shouto cleared his throat, and you found yourself impishly delighted by the fact that he refused to meet your eyes.

“Why does that matter?”

“Because that faction in particular wants to know — why her?” Mika made a brief gesture towards you as she expounded, “Why, out of every person in the nation— the world, even— why is she the one you chose?”

Shouto blinked, glancing between you and the laptop.

“Do they want a list? I’d have to ask Midoriya for—“

“—evidence is the name of the game, Shouto.” Mika broke in, “Photos, maybe, but what people really want is footage.”

“Footage that we have to get by being publicly humiliated, got it.” you sighed.

A notch appeared between Mika’s perfectly- plucked eyebrows.

“I know you’re both unhappy about the booking, but the Hero Network is the best platform to showcase Shouto’s capabilities. The nature of the show won’t just remind people why they trust him— it’ll show that he’s chosen a capable and resourceful partner, as well.”

You flushed and averted your gaze. Capable and resourceful were just about the last things that you were feeling, at the moment.

“And honestly, Split Shift is tame in comparison to some of the shows that have been asking for you.” Mika began to flip through her color-coded planner, “Let’s see… Quirktastrophe, Save my Love Life… oh, you’re lucky we didn’t put you on Zero to Hero, I hear that host is a real piece of work, off-camera…”

“Message received.” Shouto intoned, cutting off the diatribe. You moved your legs enough to allow him to scoot over, leaning forward to minimize the chat window and zoom in on a contractual document, written in a font size in the single-digits. He met your eyes

You took a deep breath and sealed your fates with a nod.

“Where do we sign?”

The devil worked hard, but apparently the scheduling team for Split Shift worked harder. Less than a week later, the two of you were arriving at the studio at the crack of dawn, for what promised to be a grueling day of filming. The process began two blocks before the filming lot, a two-man crew driving out to meet in an adjacent parking lot. You and Shouto were each asked to step out of the car in order to have a microphone pack strapped and secured beneath your clothing. They also hooked a small portable camera to the dashboard, to “capture your authentic reactions to arriving on-set.”

In a mutual act of defiance, you and Shouto remained dead-silent for the remaining two blocks. It was a welcome respite, especially given that it seemed those silences would be few and far between for the rest of the day.

Two steps out of the car and you were being accosted by a human gale-force. She arrived in a cloud of cherry-scented perfume, and wasted no time in handing over the two smoothies she was carrying. The badge pinned smartly to her dark blazer read “Noujuu Yōko”.

You’d just barely opened your mouth to offer a ‘thank you’, but the woman barely spared a glance before she turned and circled a finger in the air to follow.

“You’re seven minutes late.”

“Your crew was delayed and there were a number of road closures en route.” Shouto fell in line, his cooler hand lacing with your free one, “We weren’t—“

“—I sent a reminder email at 2:45 AM with these details. Your coordinator should have shared them.”

You watched as a notch appeared in your partner’s brow, a subtle display of his annoyance. Before he could retort, you broke in with a small laugh that felt as awkward and forced as it sounded.

“Sorry about that.” you said, “This is all… very new.”

You didn’t receive a response, nor at this point were you particularly expecting one. Avoiding the wires criss-crossing the asphalt while keeping up with her brisk pace was taking enough effort, anyways. Unfortunately, an experimental sip of the smoothie in your hand revealed that it tasted like chalk.

“Don’t feel the need to apologize.” Shouto murmured, as you slowed your pace. This close, notes of mint and jasmine stood out in his cologne as he leaned over to murmur to you, “She’s just high-strung. They can film and record as they like, now— I’ve already seen a camera following us, from the right. They’re looking for reactions.”

“So, no public meltdowns— got it.” you smiled weakly, a chill going up your spine at the prospect of indirectly being ‘on-air’.

Yōko led the way back to the first of the sound stages as she explained that Split Shift was filmed in a “psychologically-backed” sequence. The core of that process was candid footage, occasionally guided by interviews.

“You’ll be interviewing throughout the day, both separately and together.” she explained, at the door, “At midday, we’ll have a thirty-minute lunch, and a touch-up with hair and makeup. The afternoon will then be dedicated to wrapping up the heroics case.”

“The… what?” you asked, glancing at Shouto, “Is there something you’re supposed to look into?”

“Not that I am aware of.” Shouto said, “Although I assume, based on the increasing number of cameras that have tracked us here, that this is meant to be some kind of dramatic twist.”

It took you a moment to begin to spot them— angled around corners, hidden in the shrubbery and eaves of the soundstage. There was even a drone flying overhead, high up enough to muffle the whine of its motors. Apprehension bloomed in your chest, counting at least fifteen cameras, knowing there were likely more.

The tone Shouto adopted was pure apathy— but you knew it as a defense mechanism, to hide the anger he hated to show.

“Is there a particular direction you’d like us to face, to express our shock?” he said.

Yōko’s chartreuse eyes narrowed in a silent declaration of war.

“This way will be fine.”

In the next instant, a loud metallic screech made you jump. Whirling around, you realized that the garage door of the warehouse was opening, and although you couldn’t see much through the gloom, the sun’s rays did catch off another two camera lenses, at least.

“We’ve made a few changes on set.” Yōko had to raise her voice to speak over the shuffle of the film crew as they filled in the space, the descending screech of the drone, “Audiences used to prefer viewing the world of heroes at street-level, through the eyes of those they loved most. Now, they want to experience it, for themselves.”

You weren’t looking at her, though, or any of the multitudes of cameras. Instead, your gaze was focused on the mannequin angled in the center of the sound stage, and dressed in a disconcerting blend of lycra and tactical gear— specifically an all-too-familiar vest and utility belt.

Yōko’s voice rang out behind you, sending a chill up your spine as the full scope of what you had gotten yourself into began to click into place.

“So, [Last Name] [First Name]. Are you ready to become a hero?”

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Hi I'm currently writing for a Medusa Themed story, and want the lore for Medusa please

Writing Notes: Medusa

Medusa - (in Greek mythology) the most famous of the monster figures known as Gorgons.

She was usually represented as a winged female creature having a head of hair consisting of snakes.

Unlike the Gorgons, she was sometimes represented as very beautiful.

She was the only Gorgon who was mortal; hence her slayer, Perseus, was able to kill her by cutting off her head.

From the blood that spurted from her neck sprang Chrysaor and Pegasus, her two sons by Poseidon.

The severed head, which had the power of turning into stone all who looked upon it, was given to Athena, who placed it in her shield; according to another account, Perseus buried it in the marketplace of Argos.

Heracles (Hercules) is said to have obtained a lock of Medusa’s hair (which possessed the same powers as the head) from Athena and given it to Sterope, the daughter of Cepheus, as a protection for the town of Tegea against attack; when exposed to view, the lock was supposed to bring on a storm, which put the enemy to flight.

From The Oxford Companion to World Mythology (2005):

Medusa - The only mortal member of the family of horrifying clawed and winged Gorgons, whose heads were covered in serpents.

Medusa began her life as a beautiful young woman.

But the Greek goddess Athena changed her hair into serpents as a punishment for her having defiled her temple by way of a relationship with Poseidon, a relationship that resulted in the birth of the winged horse Pegasus.

Anyone who looked at Medusa would be turned to stone.

This fact plays a role in the story of the hero Perseus.

According to Hesiod in his Theogony, Medusa and her sisters were the sisters of the Graeae and lived "beyond framed Oceanus at the world's hard edge by Night, where the clear-voiced Hesperides are" (Theogony, 270).

The three sisters are often mentioned together, but it is Medusa who is commonly depicted in both ancient Greek literature and art.

The name Gorgon comes from the ancient Greek word γοργός, meaning "grim," "fierce," and "terrible," and Medusa's name derives from the ancient Greek verb μέδω meaning "to guard" or "to protect," which is very fitting given the apotropaic quality of the face of the Gorgon, known as the Gorgoneion.

Medusa in Ancient Greek Art. Medusa is an instantly recognizable figure from ancient Greek art. Her face, whether fierce and grotesque or feminine and composed, appears in virtually all media in varying contexts.

The most common interpretation of Medusa suggests she is an apotropaic symbol used to protect from and ward off the negative, like the modern evil eye.

She represents a dangerous threat meant to deter other dangerous threats, an image of evil to repel evil.

A close look at her role in Greek mythology and art reveals a nuanced and complex character with multiple iterations and implications.

Medusa is best known for having hair made of snakes and for her ability to turn anyone she looked at to stone, literally to petrify.

Multiple works by ancient sources, such as Homer, the eighth-century B.C. poet Hesiod, and the fifth-century B.C. lyric poet Pindar, provide a wide-ranging and diverse picture of the fabled creature.

According to Hesiod’s Theogony, she was one of three Gorgon sisters born to Keto and Phorkys, primordial sea gods; Medusa was mortal, while the others, Stheno and Euryale, were immortal.

The best known myth recounts her fateful encounter with the Greek hero Perseus:

A dishonorable king demanded that he bring him an impossible gift:

the head of Medusa.

Perseus set out with the aid of the gods, who provided him with divine tools.

While the Gorgons slept, the hero attacked, using Athena’s polished shield to view the reflection of Medusa’s awful face and avoid her petrifying gaze while he beheaded her with a harpe, an adamantine sword.

Such a violent act resulted in the birth of Medusa’s children, the winged horse Pegasos and the giant Chrysaor, who sprung from her neck.

The two immortal sisters pursued Perseus with fury, but the hero escaped with his prize using Hermes’ winged boots and Hades’ helmet of invisibility.

Not even death, however, could quell Medusa’s power, and Perseus had to keep her decapitated head in a special sack strong enough to contain it, called a kybisis.

On his travels, he used the head to turn his enemies to stone and rescue the princess Andromeda from a sea monster (20.192.16), before giving it to Athena for her aegis.

Pindar’s Twelfth Pythian Ode recounts how Stheno and Euryale’s angry pursuit of their sister’s killer resulted in another chapter of the Medusa myth:

After hearing their anguished and furious cries, Athena was inspired to invent the flute to mimic them.

When the goddess played the flute, however, she discarded it after seeing her reflection; her face distended and became ugly as she played.

While she purposefully and successfully mimicked the wails of the Gorgons, she also unwittingly imitated their wide and dreadful features.

The snake-haired Medusa does not become widespread until the first century B.C. The Roman author Ovid describes the mortal Medusa as a beautiful maiden seduced by Poseidon in a temple of Athena.

Such a sacrilege attracted the goddess’ wrath, and she punished Medusa by turning her hair to snakes.

While these stories sound fantastical today, to the ancient Greeks they were quasi-historical.

Myths, as well as the stories recorded by Homer and Hesiod, were considered part of a lost heroic past when men and women interacted with heroes, gods, and the supernatural.

Tales from this period were repeated in every medium; the evidence from Greece presents a world saturated with heroes and monsters in poetry, prose, and art.

As such, Medusa was not just a fantastical beast, but part of a shared past and present in the minds of ancient viewers.

She signified a historical menace—the story of Perseus vanquishing and harnessing her energy was not just a story, but a chapter in the shared allegorical and historical record of the Greeks.

Just as Medusa exists in multiple types of stories in the mythological record, she is also portrayed in multiple ways in ancient art.

Her appearance changes drastically through the centuries, but she is always recognizable due to her striking frontality.

It is rare in Greek art for a figure to face directly out, but in almost all representations of Medusa, despite style and medium, she stares ahead and uncompromisingly confronts the viewer.

The term gorgoneion refers to the head and face of Medusa, which was used often as a decorative motif. It is a prolific symbol of her particular power that appears in architecture, vase painting, and metalwork. 

Alterity is at the foundation of Medusa’s force, which was alive and present in the minds and memories of ancient viewers. Her very presence is foreign, dangerous, and potent, as are her specific characteristics.

In the Odyssey, her head was kept in Hades to drive the living from the world of the dead.

The Perseus myth provides us with the phenomenon that her face and gaze could turn men to stone. Pindar preserves the tale that the Gorgon’s cries were awesome and awful. Perseus and Athena were required to control such threatening forces and harness their power.

This harness was taken up by ancient Greek artists, who represented the Gorgon across all periods and in all media.

Medusa is a deadly and cryptic other, but she is also ubiquitous, with an undeniable energy that inspired artists to repeat her semblance and story in diverse ways across literature, lore, and art through ancient Greece, Rome, and beyond.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Excerpts from "The Library of Greek Mythology" by Apollodorus of Athens: 1 2 ⚜ Some Medusa-related art

You can also find more information in the sources linked above. Hope this helps with your story!

[faraway-sunshine]

We Interrupt This Blog To Show You Something Awesome

Omori has a Lego Ideas set! This awesomeness is brought to you by designer FoodIsScarce.

Under the cut, I'll be showing more images, explaining my thoughts, and give clarifications on how Lego Ideas works for this set. But if you want to skip that, link is here.

Lego Ideas Neighbor's Room and White Space Set Breakdown

To start off, this set has a whopping three components, all of which stand alone.

First, we have Neighbor's room!

The colors are honestly so nice in this mock-up. Lego has a fairly limited palette, but being bright and poppy works really well here.

Compared to the in-game room, it's pretty compact, but that makes sense so it doesn't dominate your shelves. Everything important is there, to outstanding detail. The leaves may ride up higher above the doorframe, but it doesn't break the immersion for me. It all feels like a piece of really nice fanart or even concept art.

The yellow cat is the centerpiece and I am very impressed with it. It isn't as stretched out as the original, though that's affected by the build size, but the shape of the paws, ears and head are spot-on and the face sticker really sells it.

Also, building the set sideways so it's smooth? Genius in my books. Sure, the minifigs won't stick, but all the smooth edges in this make the set stand out from Lego's lineup without seeming like a jarring oddity. Kind of like Omori's world compared to a bunch of other RPGs, really, so it's fitting.

I guess if I have a nitpick it'd be that the leaves are entirely different in vibe due to being all fluffy and rounded instead of the big sharp shapes in the original, but I don't think that's even really a bad thing. Just part of the Lego-ifying process. Also I groan at how I know I will place the cat's eyes wrong. Stickers are the bane of my existence. For Yellow Cat though, I would in theory persist.

Next, we have Mari's picnic blanket!

Gotta be honest, this caught me off guard, even as someone who was keeping track of this project for a while, but this is AWESOME. Colors are nailed, the existing basket and fruit pieces translate so well, and I just want to place all my fave figs on it immediately. I do hope that Mari's square could be subbed out with something with studs to keep her in place, as nothing else seems to be (maybe the basket has a 1 by 2 piece keeping it locked?).

I think it's an excellent choice even if it doesn't appear in either main room because you can plonk it by any other set or the huge pile of loose bricks you haven't gotten around to sorting yet and boom. You've just made a new corner of Headspace!

Last but certainly not least, White Space!

The computer and tissue box I think were really well done. Smooth place also tickles my fancy. I'm not as sold by the suspended light bulb; some white walls that maybe has a claw on the side would have helped sell the room more to me, I think. But it's solid.

And then you get to my favorite part in the room:

Original creator, you have my vote.

What about the minifigs?

This set still has you covered!

In this current iteration it includes six minifigs for your main characters as well as the cat and snake seen in earlier pictures. Everyone except Hero and Mari seem to be those shorter models, which always used to annoy me as a kid cause I couldn't bend the legs, but gets a pass here because remembering that height difference is nice.

The hair is a hot point of contest with the comments and Reddit posts. I'll explain more below, but Lego Ideas has rules about custom molds for new figures, so these were the closest the creator could get. And hey, I think Hero is spot on!

All the outfits and faces are custom prints, which are far easier than custom molds, and I think were done really well! Basil's top might be a bit bright, but otherwise the colors are perfect, and so is all the printing.

I also saw that Mari, Basil and Aubrey all had one extra face, which is rad. Not sure yet if Hero and Kel do too or if it's just the girls (I should assume Omori is just slate-faced as ever).

Just one more note: I love how spoiler-free this set is. You know everything in the first few moments of play. Our community is really bad with spoilers, I admit, so this is perfect for a shelf.

Here's some pics of them in action:

How does Lego Ideas even work? Is my vote worth it?

Short answer: Heck yeah!

Long answer:

Lego Ideas is a really popular program with a lot of new builds all the time, and people put a lot of work into both the models and promoting them just for the off-chance of it becoming a product.

I compiled some questions you might have based on this set specifically, but there's plenty of info yourself if you want to learn more.

How does a set get selected?

Lego Ideas has three intake periods a year for products that get over 10k signatures between the last period and that date. Each intake only has a select few that actually get to that mark; the record number in 2021 according to Wikipedia is 57 in one 2021 intake. It sounds like a lot, but in the site's 10-year run it's had over 135,000 ideas shared, not including a bunch that would have been struck down prior to going live due to breaking rules.

Each set gets 60 days to meet that goal on first launch, then an additional 365 once 100 people have signed on. Getting 1,000 supporters gives you an extra 6 months on top of that, and 5,000 (the halfway mark) another 6 months.

Meeting that 10k mark is non-negotiable for that specific set to receive the expert review through Ideas, though successful ideas that are lower may spark inspiration from their own teams.

Do I need to pledge money?

No! Lego Ideas is not a Kickstarter or crowdfund campaign. Those ask for money as they need a way to produce and distribute the product. Lego handles this on the creator's behalf.

All you need is to make a free Lego account and click the support button. You don't even have to enable email notifications on signup.

Where will I find the set then if it's made?

Anywhere else you find Lego! Even toyshops I go to have a small shelf for Ideas sets. If none of your local retailers have it, it'd be on online storefronts worldwide.

But Omori is a licensed product!

So are most of Lego Ideas' concepts that make it to becoming a set! Out of the 65 sets announced and confirmed for production (or who have already had their run!) just 29 are not tied to an IP.

So Omocat will be involved?

Yes. If the idea gets far enough, Lego would reach out to Omocat and any other copyright holders of Omori to discuss how to proceed. They will also get a say in any tweaks, and likely make a licensing fee off of Lego.

However, due to the Ideas streamline, the set likely won't be sold on Omocat's storefront (and if they are, it'd be because Omocat got a few sets to sell from them; they'll never be exclusive to Omocat's store).

Will the creator get paid?

If it makes it, yes! Lego Ideas people get a 1% cut. It's not much, but for all the work it gets to 10k I think it's earned.

But Omori isn't for kids!

Guess what: Neither are most Ideas! They're packed in black boxes and kept near the architecture and more advanced Technic sets targeted towards adults. Each set also has an age recommendation based both on set difficulty and the IP.

Is Omori even appropriate for Lego as a brand?

Omori is on the list of approved IP for Lego Ideas. This may be reviewed, but I think it will remain appropriate both because the set does not portray any of the concerning content in the game and because of the nature.

Lego says they won't make sets for franchises built around graphic violence, alcohol, or sex. Omori lacks all that. I doubt it would be yanked down based on that.

I don't care about Omori. Why should I support this?

First, why did you make it down here?

And second, look. I get it even as a fan. But if we can get an Omori set even to the review stage, that opens up the door for people to try with all other kinds of indie franchises. Undertale, Oneshot, Stardew Valley, Hollow Knight, whatever you think of!

Lego Ideas is a portal to Lego working with IP that isn't just owned by a mega corporation, and I think that is awesome.

I signed! What else can I do?

Spread the word! Reblog this post, tell your friends about it, repost (with links and credit) to other social media. Every little bit helps on the road to 10k, to catch Lego's attention, or even just to inspire someone else with a set idea they worry is too niche to share.

Cause this isn't just about Omori. It's about supporting the creativity of a dedicated fan who spent a long time working on something clearly inspired by a game held closely. And I am always going to support that.

Thank you for reading this far! If you're a regular, sorry for the break, lol. I will get back to regular posts soon. I just had an exam so am still a bit drained.

LINK IS HERE FOR A SECOND TIME: https://ideas.lego.com/projects/a73aaefc-9bc2-44f8-b106-63d66817fd1a/official_comments#content_nav_tabs

[podiumackles]

the moments that stay (they turn out all wrong)

In which the man she could never forget suddenly turns up at her cell, but he has no remembrance of the woman in front of him. And the moments that stayed with her for decades, turn out to be her memories only.

series masterlist

CHAPTER 5

A/N: I feel like I birthed a baby with this one. One of my proudest works, hope you enjoy it as much as I do! English isn't my first language!! apologies in advance.

Outlines: After being his sidekick in Payback for years, you-better known as your supename Fury-ended up on the same end of Soldier Boy's violence as every other person. What you didn't realise, however, was that your old team had set you both up for betrayal, right when you thought you were helping them in getting him. After decades of being stuck in Vought's testing lab, you heard Soldier Boy got out. But the man who appeared in front of your cell wasn't the man you knew.

Warnings: swearing, kinda descriptive mentions of death, soldier boy (yes, this man should be considered a warning), lying, manipulation kinda, and possibly wrong storytelling in lines of the canon events. I'm not that good at remembering, guys. and the boys was just kinda complicated. forgive me.

1980s

The 1980s were a lawless playground for Soldier Boy, a man shaped by chaos. Drugs. Sex. Violence. Few words could capture his essence, but those three came close. In the haze of neon lights and the pounding beat of rock and roll, he thrived, living by his own code—a code that left a trail of broken hearts, empty bottles, and bruised knuckles.

Weed fuelled him, as much a part of his bloodstream as oxygen. The high brought clarity to his mission, an almost supernatural focus. He sped through several joints a day, eyes always sharp and searching, a wild energy coursing through him. The thrill, the unpredictability—that was where he felt most alive.

Sex was a game he’d perfected to an art. He was a magnet, dangerous and alluring, a man wrapped in mystery and trouble. The women who gravitated toward him idolised him, and fell for his masculine charm in an instant. Together, they’d burn bright and fast, brief encounters flaring up like sparks against the dark backdrop of his nights.

And violence—violence was his answer to everything. It was both the shield and sword he wielded against a world he felt at odds with. He relished the crunch of knuckles against bone, the quick dance of fists and steel. For Soldier Boy, each fight was a test, a chance to feel something real in a world that often felt hollow. Even if the violence wasn’t always in place.

In a decade defined by rebellion and raw energy, Soldier Boy fit right in, a man who embodied the darker side of the times.

But in the rare, quiet moments between the mayhem, a shadow crossed Soldier Boy's hardened gaze—a glimpse of the boy he once was, twisted and reshaped by a father whose love was sharp-edged, if it could be called love at all. His father’s expectations had been relentless, more about moulding a weapon than raising a son. Every misstep, every moment of weakness was met with disdain or brutal correction. Soldier Boy learned early that softness was a liability, that love was something you conquered, not something you felt.

His father had drilled it into him that life was a battlefield, that only the ruthless survived. In his father’s eyes, “good enough” was an insult. Perfection was mandatory, and anything less was shameful. The standards were impossible, yet Soldier Boy chased them with a desperate fervour. He fought, drank, smoked, and womanized not just because he wanted to—but because he felt he had to.

Proving himself was a lifelong war.

And yet, he kept going. Because maybe, just maybe, if he lived loud enough, fought hard enough, and burned bright enough, he could drown out the voice that whispered that it was all for nothing.

So, Vought decided to strip away that part of him and make Ben into some hero. Someone who fought the actual wars, was a soldier for the country, and learned the values of hard work, tenacity, and bravery while growing up on the streets.

And suddenly, Ben wasn’t the boy born into a wealthy home under his distant, judgemental and overbearing father, a prominent industrial magnate who owned half the steel mills in the state.

He wasn’t the man who grew up after his father sent him to boarding school, just to get rid of him.

America believed he grew up to a poor family. To a happy family, caring for each other on the streets.

So that is what he chose to put on as a mask.

Therefore, as he stood there in the dark of the night, next to the Benz with a group of kids, he convinced himself he was the hero. Violent, but a hero. And he convinced himself to the point of believing it.

“Fuckin’ kids.” Ben muttered in slight disbelief, picking up the Benz with ease and hurling it forward, though missing his objective and sending it through a nearby house.

He could barely make out the form of an older, black man getting hit, surely dying in the process, but he couldn’t pay it much mind.

He was a hero, after all.

He fought the war.

In the corner of his eye, he vaguely saw a small child with terror edged in his gaze.

But Ben knew he didn’t do anything terrible.

It wasn’t his fault the Benz went through the windows of a nearby house. It wasn’t his fault it ended in the home of a black family.

The kids tried to run him over with the car, forcing him to deflect the oncoming vehicle and cause it to crash into the home.

That’s what happened.

That’s what he would tell them.

That’s what everyone would come to know.

He tore his eyes away from the carnage, nearly bumping into the smaller figure behind him.

“Soldier Boy?” Your voice rang through his ears, through the crackling of the fire behind him, concern edged along your face.

“They fuckin’ tried to run me over, Fury,” his words were firm. Stern. And not a single sign of care. “You can’t possibly think I threw a damn car into an innocent’s home?”

Your eyes were sharp, cutting through the smoke and the flickering light. You hadn’t personally known Soldier Boy for a long time. But it felt long enough to recognize the look in his eyes—the one that flared up when reality slipped out of his grip, morphing into whatever narrative best suited him. You wanted to believe him, needed to believe him, but even you couldn’t ignore the doubt clawing at your mind.

“Those kids—they barely had time to get the engine started. They didn’t try to run you over.” Your voice was quiet but steady, like your were trying to coax him out of a trance. “You picked up that car and threw it. You know what you did.”

His jaw tightened, eyes flashing with something between anger and desperation. “They fucking came at me first, Fury,” he barked, each word sharp as a knife. “They didn’t leave me a damn choice. This was self-defence. Part of the fucking job.” His words trailed off, and for a split second, he looked away, eyes drifting toward the broken home, the lifeless hand lying on the ground, still and unmoving.

You stepped closer, lowering your voice to a whisper that only he could hear. “You’re not a hero if you can’t see the difference between protecting and destroying, Ben.”

“What the fuck did you just call me?” He came at you with quick steps, grabbing you by the tight collar of your suit, the words leaving him in a growl.

“I told you I’d fucking figure it out.” You spoke with equal distaste, getting close enough to his face that your noses almost touched.

“Do not fucking call me that again.”

And he meant it. You knew he meant it.

“And don’t act like you’re some kind of saint,” he snapped, anger bristling beneath the surface. “I’ve done what needed to be done. I’ve kept this country safe. I’m still here because people need someone like me to do what they can’t stomach themselves. I’m the fucking leader of a team of supes.”

“Maybe they need someone strong, but they don’t need… this,” You said, gesturing to the wreckage. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. “Look, I know you’re angry. I know you’ve had to fight your whole life, that you don’t know how to turn it off. But maybe this is a sign that something’s broken in you, something that Vought and all the violence have only made worse.”

He scoffed, letting go of your collar before crossing his arms defensively. “Broken? I’m the one who’s been keeping things fucking together. It’s everyone else who’s been lying to themselves, pretending that the world doesn’t need men like me. Heroes aren’t born, Fury. They’re made. I was made for this.”

You paused, searching his face, seeing flashes of the man behind the bravado, the man he’d hidden away for so long that even he had forgotten he existed. “You were made, Ben, but maybe too much. Vought twisted you, fed you lies about who you are, made you think you’re some unbreakable weapon. But that’s not who you have to be.”

His expression faltered, just for a moment, the mask slipping as the weight of your words settled over him. In the quiet, he could hear the sirens approaching, the blue and red lights reflecting off the shattered glass around them.

Ben stepped back, lifting his chin, defiance hardening his gaze once again. “You don’t fucking get it, Fury. Clearly.” He glanced at the arriving police cars, the ambulance and firefighters close behind. “This is who I fucking am. A hero. A soldier. A leader.”

As he turned to walk away, you watched him go, a sense of helplessness washing over her. She knew that the only person who could save Soldier Boy from himself was the man he’d buried long ago, the one who still lingered somewhere in the darkness.

But for now, Ben had made his choice, walking away from the broken family, the innocent lives left in the wake of his own battles, and found his way to the ambulance after they’d called him over.

Several police officers walked up to you as you stared towards the back of the man you tried so hard to figure out.

“Fury,” a deep voice spoke up from next to you, so your gaze reluctantly shifted towards the officer next to you. “Mind telling us what happened?”

You did mind.

You didn’t want this.

The man looked at you sternly, leaving no space for lies. He would’ve been onto you straight away, and his stare made it seem like he’d already seen through you.

But it rolled off your tongue before you could stop it, and you shifted your gaze to Soldier Boy once more.

“Kids tried to run Soldier Boy over, hit the house instead,” you felt numb. No feelings were edged into your words. “They fled before we could get to them.”

The officer nodded, but his eyes narrowed, clearly not buying your story. “And you just saw it happen?” “Yeah,” you replied, your voice oddly steady. “I was—”

“Fury!” A new voice cut through, sharp and commanding. A tall woman in a crisp uniform approached, her badge glinting in the chaotic light. “What the hell is going on?” “Ma’am, just trying to piece together—” the officer began. She waved him off, eyes locked on you.

“I don’t care about your excuses. I need the truth. This isn’t just another PR disaster for Vought. A house is wrecked, and people are hurt. A man is dead. We need to know what really happened.” The urgency in her tone electrified the air.

You felt the weight of the world pressing down. What if Soldier Boy’s lies unraveled? What if the truth exposed the monster behind the hero facade?

Before you could answer, a commotion erupted at the ambulance. Ben was arguing with medics, insisting he was fine, refusing treatment. “Fury!” the woman snapped again, pulling you from your thoughts. “We need to act fast. Are you with us or not?”

The woman’s expression hardened. “And what about the man inside? The casualties? You think the press will swallow that story? They’ll tear him apart, and the fallout will land on all of us.”

“It’s what I said,” you hated lying. But then again, isn’t this life all about lies? “Some kids tried to run him over. They fled as quick as the car rammed into the house.”

“It’s how it fucking happened,” You snapped, putting your all in selling a lie that wasn’t yours. A lie to protect someone who shouldn’t be protected. “Set up the statement for the press. I’ll do it. Just let me speak to him first.”

You walked away before anyone could protest.

As you approached the ambulance, Ben’s voice rose above the chaos. “I don’t fucking need your help!” You stepped closer, the weight of the moment pressing on your chest.

“Soldier Boy,” you called softly, hoping to pierce through his armour. He turned, eyes blazing. “Please, just let them check you out.”

“I don’t fucking need checking. I’m a fucking supe.”

“Alright then,” you couldn’t give him any more than that. He wasn’t going to listen to you anyway. And you felt the weight of the dead man in the house press down on your shoulders. “They’re setting up a statement. Would be nice if you could read the fucking words to the camera and be done with it.”

You weren’t sure who you hated more.

Him, for murdering an innocent man in front of a child.

Yourself, for deciding to let him get away with it.

Or Vought, for creating monsters out of innocents who just happened to be pumped full of Compound V.

“Fine.” He spoke sternly as he stared you down, before leaving the medics and you to walk towards your commander.

You gave the men in front of you a sympathetic nod, but you were stopped in your tracks when you noticed the child sitting on the edge of the ambulance. Your heart fell to your feet, a chill running down your spine upon the sight of the broken body in front of you.

He’d cried. Of course, he’d cried.

But you couldn’t get yourself to talk to him.

So, before your feet could get you to the child, you turned on your heels and walked towards the camera crew whom had just arrived.

But you didn’t know the child had seen you look at him.

You didn’t know he thought you were just as guilty as Ben.

Soldier Boy was already stood ready for the camera, and as you joined him, the camera lights clicked on, the harsh beams illuminating the devastation. And you felt yourself splintering inside, the weight of Soldier Boy’s lie settling like a stone in your chest. You glanced toward Ben, an indignant fire smoldering in his eyes. He looked every bit the righteous soldier, ready to declare himself the hero America needed.

The image of the boy’s face, twisted in fear and grief, tugged at you. But here you were, about to spin the truth into another manufactured story. You took a deep breath, forcing down the nausea that coiled in your gut.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” you began reading of the paper boards the assistent held next to the camera, voice steady, betraying none of the chaos within. “Tonight, a tragic accident occurred during an attempted assault on Soldier Boy.”

You felt the lie burn on your tongue as you kept your eyes fixed on the camera, refusing to let yourself glance at Ben or at the wreckage. “Some local teens attempted to run him down, resulting in the accidental damage to the home behind me. Soldier Boy acted only in self-defense, as any of us would in such a situation.”

You knew the words sounded hollow, even as they left your mouth. A part of you wanted to stop, to let the truth pour out, but your career, your life, everything was intertwined with Vought’s lie.

Ben took his chance to speak up as well, forcefully shaping his words around the story he had made up. “I am lucky to be alive today,” he started, adverting the attention to himself. “This shows what work still needs to be done in the life of heroes- to get your people behind you. Because you are all my fuckin’ people, and I will do whatever it takes to fight for this country.”

You swallowed harshly as you looked at him into his mask, the façade of a broken man who truly believed he wasn’t at fault.

You glanced back to the camera, forcing a sympathetic expression. “Our hearts go out to the family affected by this unfortunate event. Vought will, of course, be providing assistance to help rebuild and support those affected by this incident.”

A small smirk tugged at the corner of Ben his mouth, a look that sent a jolt of anger through you. This was a game to him, a story he’d tell at bars, while the real suffering lingered in the shadows. The cameras clicked off, and the reporters dispersed, murmuring about the press release.

As the crew packed up, you turned towards Ben, a tight smile masking the turmoil beneath. “You’re in the clear,” you murmured, feeling the weight of each word. “Don’t ever say I never fucking do anything for you.”

Ben looked down at you, his usual cocky expression in place. “See, Fury? I told you, people want a hero.” He threw a casual glance over his shoulder, at the small boy now being led away by a medic. “Shit happens. People need to understand that.”

“You can’t really believe that,” you said, unable to hide the frustration in your voice. “That kid…he’ll remember tonight for the rest of his life. The view of his home burned into his mind.”

Ben shrugged, unfazed. “That’s what builds strength. He’ll get over it.”

You wanted to scream, to shake him, to force him to see the agony he’d caused, but you knew it was useless. He was wrapped in layers of arrogance, denial, and decades of conditioning. Any compassion or empathy had been twisted out of him long ago, and in his mind, he was untouchable.

Turning away, you felt the hot sting of shame rise, pressing at the edges of your vision. You’d made a choice, sacrificed the truth for the illusion of stability, and now a piece of you felt as hollow as the lies you’d just told.

A/N: as always, feedback is appreciated! let me know if you want to be added to the taglist.

thanks for reading! <3

taglist: @demodemo909 @deangirl96 @mostlymarvelgirl @n-o-p-e-never @daisydark @mxltifxnd0m @lamentationsofalonelypotato @junyjunyjunyper

[absolutelyari1]

Three heroes appear at world's edge

[sensitivehandsomeactionman]

Rewatched 1x02 Wendigo

It's an easy-to-follow adventure, and as the second episode, has a feeling of confirming story style and motifs. They repeat the use of fake IDs. There's a cheeky wink to the audience about how implausible they are when they're imposters along with reassurance that as the heroes they have plot armor. The ep revisits blood dripping mysteriously from above, leading to a jumpscare horror. And revisits Dean ending up a total, muddy mess. There's detective-like interviewing and exposition, reminiscent of The X-Files, as well as the tell-tale woodsy wetness of filming in Vancouver, and a ritual explanation as to why they're taking a break from hunting for Dad.

A week has passed, and they found no clues in Jessica's death. Sam is understandably having nightmares and is withdrawn and somber and on edge. I do love that on rewatch the audience knows that Sam is hiding a secret and a guilty conscience. Dean sends many concerned glances Sam's way. The dynamic I see is Dean trying to direct their energies towards something more positive, which is solving Haley's case; the job John sent them to. I think it's a consistent strategy for Dean throughout the series to seek a hunting "win" as an emotional reset. And by the end of the hunt, we see it does revitalize Sam.

Dean says the iconic "saving people, hunting things, the family business" line. It's framed as "saving people, hunting things" = "the family business," and that works for the Kripke years. Now, having been through the whole series, I hear it as three separate things. The business (or workings) of family really is its own theme as the show goes on, and sometimes it doesn't have to do with the other two.

DEAN: Do you want to tell me what's going on in that freaky head of yours?  SAM: Dean... DEAN: No, you're not fine. you're like a powder keg, man. It's not like you. I'm supposed to be the belligerent one, remember?

I do find it strange to hear Dean say, "I'm supposed to be the belligerent one," except maybe it's said jokingly to get a reaction from Sam. So far Dean's been quite stoic when challenged, and likely to respond to hostility with smirky humor. Sam's more direct and quicker to be confrontational. Nice bit of foreshadowing with reference to Sam as "freaky" and about to blow up with anger, since the appearance of YED will expand on that later.

A few things that I especially enjoyed in this ep -- Dean's charm and chutzpah. The way he improvises on the fly. He's flirty but in a surprisingly sweet way. Sam's earnestness, knowledge, and fearlessness. His exhilaration when they finish the hunt. I'm also amused that starting here, bears come up as a civilian explanation for monster stuff.

It's hard not to take it for granted now, their chemistry as brothers. They especially feel like they're in their own world separate from the normal one, and we're privileged to peek into their experience. We're also privileged to enjoy their beautiful faces in cinematic closeups.

There's smarmy low-brow humor that seems characteristic of Kripke. I feel like he enjoys making the audience squirm a bit over it, just as he does with the horror gore. This isn't a show for nice bougie people, he seems to want to say, we like 'em rough around the edges. It's a bit of a caricature, but it's different, and feels harmless.

Harmless, like Dean's flirting. We can see through the artifice; we're in on the joke. Part of that joke is a show that's sometimes rough around the edges. Like the ep's final scenes making a big deal of Sam taking the keys to drive the Impala, followed by a long shot of them in Baby, with Sam on the passenger side. Oops! 😂

[queen-haq]

Fic: Never You - Part 10 (Penelope x Colin)

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV show)

Spoilers: S3 released scenes.

Summary: They may have been friends once but his callous words decimated their relationship. Determined not to have anything to do with him, Penelope is ready to move on. But Colin isn’t giving up, not at all. Friends or not, they are connected for life - and he intends to remind her of that.

Excerpt:

“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”

“Of course you would think that.”

“What else is this if not punishment?”

Masterlist (contains links to previous parts and my other stories)

A03 link if that’s more your jam

Colin awoke with a start. His body was covered in sweat, his heart drumming in his chest. Complete darkness surrounded his bedchamber, exacerbating his jittery nerves. After taking a minute to settle his mind, he lit the candle next to his bed, slid off the bed and put on a shirt and trousers over his naked form. Desperate for some air, he walked out of the chamber, silently making his way along the extended hallway and down the staircase before grabbing his coat to head out to the gardens. The air outside was cool and crisp, exactly what he needed to soothe his frayed mind from the cursed nightmares that had been torturing him.

Since his last conversation with Penelope a week ago, he’d been haunted by dreams of her with other men. The first couple of nights his subconscious mind had conjured up the most horrific images of faceless men fucking Penelope. His Penelope. However, the nightmares from the past three nights had been far worse. Because it was no longer just visions of Penelope being seduced. No. The night before last he had dreamt of her marrying a faceless prick in the church. Last night Benedict painted her nude form while she fed his brother cake in return. And tonight was the fucking worst. Fife – Fife! – had his arm around Penelope, hugging her, holding her, while the two danced and laughed together. Just the thought of it made him want to stab Fife repeatedly, his hand instinctively forming a fist.

Images of her with all these other men elicited such a visceral reaction in him that he spent most of the week in bed, feeling sick to his stomach. But enough was enough.

He came to a stop at the farthest edge of the Bridgerton garden, bringing him in close proximity of the Featherington property. Leaning against a tree, he watched the building in front of him. The mansion was dark, it appeared everyone was asleep.  Penelope’s bedroom wrapped around the northwest corner of the property, allowing him viewing access to the front window. The one and only time he had snuck into her room he had used the window on the west corner, so he wouldn’t be visible to others on the street. Right away his mind rushed to that night, the memories ingrained into his brain. The feel of her sweet, luscious body, the way she moaned his name as she touched herself, his cock sliding along her magnificent tits – fuck! Colin shook his head. Stop. He had to stop. Because he couldn’t fucking think when he was caught up in those sensations.

Anger surged through him as his eyes trailed back up to Penelope’s bedroom. The windows were closed, the room dark. She was probably sleeping without a care in the world while he hadn’t experienced a single moment of peace in weeks. The nightmares may have started recently but Pen had been weighing heavily in his mind ever since the Danbury ball. That was the night she had lambasted him about his unfortunate words from last season, and consequently his world had shifted on its axis. Of course he didn’t fault Pen; she had every right to be furious with him. After playing the hero for the Featherington ladies he had been full of himself and celebrated with one too many drinks. Foxed out of his mind, he grew increasingly irritated by Fife’s taunts and decided to shut him down. Unfortunately his ego stroke came at the expense of Penelope.  There were no excuse for his behaviour. He was an ass and deserved the tongue lashing, but what took him by surprise was how seductive Penelope’s rage had been. Dressed like a siren, the Penelope in front of him had been a fiery, intoxicating goddess and not the shy, sweet girl he grew up with. It was the first time she had revealed herself to him truly, and from that day on he was completely transfixed.

He inhaled a cold, deep breath as Penelope’s secret engagement flashed through his mind. She was engaged. Engaged. To another man. A man who was allowed to touch her and fuck her, hold her, comfort her, sleep beside her. She would marry this man and bear his children. She would take his name and build a life with him. Smile with him. Laugh with him. Love him.

Nausea hit him like a tidal wave. He bent over to retch, his body trying to expel all thoughts of Penelope with another man out of his physical form – but nothing came out. He dry heaved instead. Ironic. Even when she was making him sick, his body didn’t want to give her up. After a few more attempts, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before walking forward and crossing over to Featherington property. No doubt if someone were to see him now they would think him crazy but Colin didn’t care. He couldn’t go back to sleep, he needed to be close to her.

She had confessed to being in love with him. Not her secret lover, but him. Yet she’d turned down his proposal anyway. Colin wasn’t a fool, he knew exactly why. She wouldn’t marry him because he didn’t love her. A heavy weight lodged in his chest remembering the pained expression on her face when he confessed the truth. If he knew how excruciating it would be to have Penelope sever their relationship he would have happily lied. Unfortunately he chose truth and now had to pay the price for that honesty.

It's not like he didn’t want to be in love with Penelope. Things would be so much easier if he was, but what he felt for her wasn’t love. Because love was good, it was pure and kind, it brought out the best in people and made them want to be better for each other. His parents were deeply in love, and their relationship was forged from kinship and selflessness. Anthony, so cantankerous and domineering in the past few years, was a different man after falling in love with Kate. She brought out the joyous side of him, reminding Colin of the brother he grew up with before their father died. Even his own feelings for Marina were closer to love than what he felt for Pen. With Marina he was noble, not even tempted to kiss her because he was determined to be a true gentleman. But Penelope. A harsh breath escaped him. She was in his blood, running through his veins, calling out to him every minute of every day. Being good and kind, making a name for himself – all of his earlier pursuits no longer mattered. The only thing that did was being with her.

The depth of his feelings for her terrified him but not as much as the thought of not being with her. He would do anything for her. Whatever it took, no matter the consequences. If he had to risk her reputation to make her his, so be it. If he had to burn the whole world down, he would. What he felt for Penelope was caustic and dangerous. It made him selfish and desperate and volatile. It was all-consuming, leaving space for nothing else in his soul but her. 

There was no comfort in what he felt for Penelope. Around her he was aroused, excited, elated. Frightened, because every moment he was with her he was also paranoid about losing her. Fear and ecstasy coursed through him when she was near, her eyes on him, her body close to his. He couldn’t breathe around her, his heart constantly pounding. And he didn’t even want to think about how painful it was to be away from Penelope. The ache in his chest was palpable, it physically hurt, wounding him deeper and deeper. It was only her touch that stopped the pain from searing through him. None of it made sense, nothing did anymore.

It didn’t used to be like this. In the past their friendship had been earnest and meaningful; they shared their hopes, their dreams.  Looking back, however, he realized their relationship had been superficial in nature because Pen always held herself back. Like she purposely only showed him the good parts of herself, never the flaws - no fear, no sadness, nothing remotely real. The only time he remembered any discontent was when she had tried to warn him about Marina but even then he had been able to sway her easily. But things were different now, she was different. She no longer attempted to hide behind a mask of happy emotions to appease him. There was an assuredness in her which meant she wasn’t guarded around him anymore. He liked seeing her heightened emotions, liked watching her unravel in front of him. Because it meant he wasn’t the only one out of control.  They were both spiraling, because of each other.   

Under no circumstances would Penelope marry anyone else, not as long as he was alive. He would never allow it. She belonged to him; they were connected forever. She owned his mind, his heart, his very soul and he owned hers. It didn’t matter if she wasn’t a virgin. The past was the past, and he was her future.

Resolved in his decision, he started walking forward. One week was enough without Penelope, he wasn’t going to waste any more time away from her. Intending to climb up, he made his way towards where her chamber was located when the sight of a hooded figure exiting the far corner entrance caught his attention. He stopped in his tracks. For weeks now he had watched Penelope, studied her intently, her face, her hair, her curves, the way she moved through a crowd, how she danced – and he had catalogued every inch of her, including her gait. That’s how he knew with full certainty it was Penelope sneaking away from her home despite the oversized cape and hidden features.

Immediately red-hot anger coursed through him. Where was she going so late at night? To meet her lover? Jealousy burned inside him. His nausea returned with a vengeance but he ignored it through sheer willpower. No. Absolutely not. He was willing to accept a past lover but that’s where he drew the line. She was his. His. And he would kill anyone who tried to take her from him.

He trailed behind her while she crossed several streets, keeping his distance so she wouldn’t notice him. After she jumped into a hired hack, he did the same, following behind her until she came to a stop in front of a rundown tavern in Bloomsbury. 

This was no place for a lady yet his fucking Penelope waltzed inside the establishment like she owned the place. His temper rose exponentially, it took everything in him not to grab her and drag her home. But he knew that would be a mistake; he needed to know who she was meeting and surveilling her was the only way.

The tavern was loud and busy, filled with rowdy drunks and lascivious women. What the fuck was Penelope doing here? Colin scanned the crowd until he finally spotted her sitting in a far corner. Her face may have been hidden but he recognized her anyway. Like finding her here wasn’t troubling enough, he felt even more disgusted when he saw the man conversing with her. Because Colin knew who it was, had seen him conduct business with both Anthony and various other men amongst the ton.

He was a solicitor and old enough to be Penelope’s grandfather.

To be continued...

A/N:I hope Colin's POV was a bit illuminating on where his thoughts landed on Penelope. Also hope it wasn't disappointing :)

Your feedback is truly loved and cherished. If you're so inclined, I would love to read your thoughts! And so excited for the show to come back this week!

[camer0n-why]

Only then, shining with star power... Three HEROES appear at WORLDS' edge.

[demifiendrsa]

NINJA GAIDEN 4 Official Announce Trailer | Developer_Direct 2025

NINJA GAIDEN 4 will launch for PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X|S, and PC (Steam, Microsoft Store) in Fall 2025. It will also be available via Game Pass.

Key visual

Screenshots

Overview

About

The definitive ninja hack-and-slash franchise returns with NINJA GAIDEN 4! Embark on a cutting-edge adventure where legacy meets innovation in this high-octane blend of style and no-holds-barred combat.

Key Features

Return of the Legend – Experience a return to the intense, high-speed combat that established NINJA GAIDEN as a premier action game series. Prepare for a legacy reborn with captivating style for a new generation of players.

Epic Hack and Slash Combat, Evolved – NINJA GAIDEN 4 fuses Team NINJA’s tempered combat philosophy with the stylish, dynamic action gameplay of PlatinumGames. Engage in visually stunning combat that rewards precision and strategy. Use Bloodbind Ninjutsu to transform your weapons and unleash devastation upon your enemies, alongside legacy techniques like the Izuna Drop and Flying Swallow. The legendary Ryu Hayabusa also returns with a revamped yet familiar set of tools to master. With a customizable player experience, NINJA GAIDEN 4 will push action game veterans to their limits while allowing newcomers to enjoy a heart-pounding adventure full of twists and turns.

An Ancient Enemy Returns – An endless rain of miasma hangs over a near-future Tokyo in the wake of an ancient enemy’s resurrection. The fate of the city lies in the hands of young ninja prodigy, Yakumo. Fighting his way through cybernetic ninja soldiers and otherworldly creatures, Yakumo must reconcile a destiny he shares with the legendary Ryu Hayabusa himself and free Tokyo from the ancient curse that brought the city to its knees.

Additional details

A New NINJA GAIDEN World Unveiled

While the series has been beloved for almost four decades, the announcement of NINJA GAIDEN 4 marks the first new mainline entry in 13 years. When asked about the long gap—spanning two Xbox console generations—Yasuda expressed Team NINJA’s long-standing desire to bring the series back. “Fans have long been asking us for a new NINJA GAIDEN game,” he said. “Koei Tecmo‘s President, Hisashi Koinuma, and PlatinumGames’ CEO, Atsushi Inaba, share a close relationship, which led us to explore a collaborative development effort. PlatinumGames had the expertise we felt was ideal for working on NINJA GAIDEN, and with support from Microsoft’s Phil-san [Phil Spencer, CEO of Microsoft Gaming], the three companies were able to take the next step towards creating a brand-new NINJA GAIDEN.”

Appearing for the first time in the Developer_Direct broadcast, and published by Xbox Game Studios, NINJA GAIDEN 4 is positioned as the direct sequel to NINJA GAIDEN 3. While maintaining the dark and gritty world that the series is known for, players will take on the role of a new protagonist, Yakumo. “A significant amount of time has passed since NINJA GAIDEN 3, and players will find themselves arriving in a gruesomely transformed Tokyo. One of the key themes of this story is the return of the Dark Dragon, which has plunged the city into chaos. Within these unsettling conditions, Yakumo will have to face off against his foes, as well as the formidable Master Ninja himself, Ryu Hayabusa,” Nakao explained.

When asked why a new protagonist was introduced, Nakao clarified that “since it’s been a while since the last game, we wanted a new hero to make the series more approachable for new players. Of course, we also wanted long-time fans to enjoy the game, so Ryu Hayabusa plays a significant role in the story, serving as a major challenge and growth milestone for Yakumo. Ryu will appear throughout the game and be playable, ensuring his prowess and presence is deeply felt in NINJA GAIDEN 4.”

Overcoming Adversity in NINJA GAIDEN 4

In the Developer_Direct trailer, the new protagonist, Yakumo, shows off stylish new mechanics which include traversal using wires and rails, something new for a NINJA GAIDEN title. When asked about the addition of these elements, Nakao revealed one of the game’s core themes: “Adversity is a key concept for this game. From the beginning to the end of each stage and even in the transitions between, everything is designed to represent adversity for Yakumo.” First and foremost, that adversity will come in the form of NINJA GAIDEN’s signature combat, but Nakao explains that these new additions outside of the fights keeps that feeling high at all times: “To maintain the tension throughout, we’ve added high-speed elements like rail and wire-based actions to keep up the sense of challenge.”

The announcement footage also depicted a rain-soaked, cyberpunk-like Tokyo, leaving a strong impression to those who watched the trailer. “In NINJA GAIDEN 4, we wanted to blend old and new elements. Tokyo in this game has been drastically transformed by the influence of the underworld., which is why it appears this way,” Nakao explained, elaborating on the Dark Dragon’s miasma rain, as well as the disasters it has caused. “Rain is a major visual theme in this game. For example, we’ve put a lot of effort into how characters look when drenched, how raindrops hit the ground, and various other effects.” These visual motifs stay true to the signature dark, hardcore atmosphere of the series while bringing new flavor to its visual direction.

Nakao also touched on the game’s anticipated difficulty. “We’ve brought together the best aspects of the series and elevated them for the current generation. Personally, I believe [the difficulty level of] NINJA GAIDEN 2 had a lot of standout qualities, and I think fans will feel its influence strongly throughout NINJA GAIDEN 4.”

After such a long break between games, it’s paramount that the team balances what’s great about the series, while adding new ideas. Despite the daunting challenges, the collaboration between Team NINJA and PlatinumGames promises an unparalleled NINJA GAIDEN experience.

“One of the key differences between modern action games and NINJA GAIDEN lies in the sense of fairness when confronting enemies,” Nakao said, explaining the series’ unique game balance philosophy. “Enemies are designed to be masters of defense and experts of unrelenting aggression, but players never feel they’re at an unfair disadvantage. There’s a sense of balance that’s been passed down through the series, transcending current-day trends.”

“The rapid shifts between offense and defense, the almost fighting game-like 1v1 combat—you’ll see these elements evolve in NINJA GAIDEN 4. At the same time, we’ve ensured that returning players will immediately feel at home when they pick up the game,” he concluded.

A True Successor

When asked about the challenges involved in achieving the fairness that defines the NINJA GAIDEN series, Nakao shared his thoughts with a laugh.

“If I were to go into detail about the feel of the action, we’d be here for quite a while (laughs). In all NINJA GAIDEN titles, a delicate balance is carefully crafted to maintain the satisfaction of attacking enemies without losing the speed and exhilaration that define the gameplay. I remember struggling with the fine adjustments required to achieve the right feel when we first started implementing and testing the systems. Additionally, when we brought Ryu Hayabusa into NINJA GAIDEN 4, we wanted long-time fans to experience the exact same enjoyable gameplay feel they’ve come to expect. We had numerous discussions with Team NINJA to fine-tune the mechanics and ensure everything felt just right.”

Yasuda also added that “when it comes to gameplay feel, Team NINJA was deeply involved. Fairness in combat with enemies is only possible when ultimate playability is a given. To achieve that, we pushed for even deeper refinement of controls and other aspects. I know it probably seemed like we were being a bit too demanding at times…(laughs).” This collaboration across company lines was crucial to creating the next ultimate NINJA GAIDEN experience.

One of the standout features of NINJA GAIDEN 4, which embodies the series’ experience while introducing fresh elements, is Yakumo’s “Bloodraven Form.” Nakao described this as “a technique that manipulates the blood of oneself and enemies, transforming it into a massive weapon capable of slicing through multiple foes at once.” He elaborated further on how this addition expands upon the series’ traditional gameplay.

“Yakumo fights using Bloodraven Form, and when certain conditions are met, he can unleash a move called ‘Bloodbath Kill,’ which instantly bisects enemies in one strike.” Nakao explains that, while previous entries have tasked players with working out how to approach encounters with multiple enemies, and NINJA GAIDEN 4 is introducing another exhilarating way to fight against swarming crowds: “This time we’ve added large-scale, high-damage attacks with the Bloodraven Form, enabling players to instantly turn the tide of battle in their favor.”

This system introduces moments of release from overwhelming situations, offering new depth to the gameplay that Nakao hopes both newcomers and returning fans will enjoy.

Both Team NINJA and PlatinumGames are known for their expertise in high-end action games. According to Nakao, the process of creating NINJA GAIDEN 4 revealed the unique strengths and characteristics of each studio.

“Looking at the titles created by PlatinumGames, we noticed clear differences in approach. While we emphasize flashy, impactful strikes and moment-to-moment experiences, the NINJA GAIDEN series focuses on delivering refined and satisfying gameplay feel, culminating in an exceptionally polished overall action experience. This collaboration was a truly unique learning opportunity for us at PlatinumGames.”

When asked about the significance of bringing NINJA GAIDEN 4 to Xbox, Yasuda reflected on Team NINJA’s long history with the platform.

“With titles like the Dead or Alive series and the NINJA GAIDEN series—especially the original NINJA GAIDEN, NINJA GAIDEN Black, and NINJA GAIDEN II—we have a deep history with Xbox. It’s been a long time, but we’re thrilled to bring the latest installment back to Xbox players. Additionally, with the game being added to Game Pass, we’re excited that more people will have the opportunity to experience it.”

Nakao, who became a fan of the series during his days as a student, also shared his excitement. “Personally, I played NINJA GAIDEN II on Xbox 360, so being able to play the latest installment on Xbox again makes me very happy. Even now, I occasionally boot up NINJA GAIDEN II on my Xbox Series X. As a developer and a fan, I’m thrilled to see the NINJA GAIDEN series come together on Xbox, creating a moment in time where all these titles can be enjoyed in one place.”