#also i like the fire theme here and there

[yogirl-willow]

The Crimson Pact | Part 6

Characterizations | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

SoulBond!AU

Pairings: Yandere!Saja Boys x F!Reader

Synopsis: You were never supposed to remember them.

Four hundred years ago, a pact was made—a blood-soaked bond tying five demons to one human soul: yours.

They’ve waited lifetimes for your reincarnation, cursed with obsession, tethered by fate.

And now that you’ve returned?

They’ll burn the world before they let you go again.

Warnings: Soul bond with the Saja Boys, Yandere themes!, obsessive behavior / possessiveness, romantic psychological tension, mentions of implied past death / reincarnation, intense emotional fixation, yearning, dark romance, hurt/comfort

A/N: Thank you all for reading the Crimson Pact! Here's another update that gets the plot rolling. :) I tried to tag everyone I could, but I also know tumblr only allows like 50 or so- regardless I still tried so I hope it works!

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

The Saja boys are all demons.

They are wrath and ruin. Jealousy and death.

And yet, before her, they kneel.

Because she is the Heart. Because her soul is what keeps them from unraveling into true monsters. Because they were bound by her love and her curse.

They don’t just crave her—they depend on her. Without her presence, their minds deteriorate. Their bodies decay. Their hunger becomes unbearable.

Only Y/N’s touch tames the demon inside.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Part 6:

Where the Bond Burns

Darkness wraps around you like a heartbeat. Then comes the fire. Not heat—but memory.  It floods your mind in violent waves. Too vivid to be a dream. Too tender to be lies. Too painful to be anything but real.

Smoke. Screams. Blood in the dirt. You're barefoot, standing in the center of a razed village, the winter wind biting at your cheeks. Charred thatch and broken beams litter the ground around you, glowing red with the last embers of a fire that’s stolen everything.

“Haneul!” You don’t think—you remember. His name rips from your chest.

You see him ahead—taller, broader, armor torn and covered in soot. His blade drips crimson. His expression is hollow. Around him: corpses. Bandits. Soldiers. Villagers. Men he once fought alongside. Men who dared to touch you. He turns—his eyes blazing.

“Haneul!” you call again, running to him. But someone yanks you back.

“Get her away from him—he’s cursed!”

You scream. Thrash. Soldiers hold you fast. Haneul sees it. The way you’re dragged. The way your arm twists in their grip. His scream splits the sky. “Don’t touch her!” he roars. “She’s mine!”

His sword flashes. You try to break free—but they overpower you. Your last memory of that life is his voice breaking through flame. His face wild, streaked in blood and grief.

“She’s mine!”

The village dissolves. And now—

A silk-draped room. It’s evening. You're in a candlelit room now—pillows, gauze curtains, perfume in the air. Your body sinks into cushions as laughter spills from your lips. A hand brushes your hair behind your ear, fingertips lingering.

“Seoha,” you whisper, dizzy on love. He’s beside you. Shirt loose. Mouth soft with affection. He kisses the inside of your wrist, slow and lingering.

“Run away with me,” he says, voice low. “We’ll vanish. Just us. You love me more than this... don’t you?”

Your smile fades. Your heart aches. “I can’t,” you breathe, trembling. “My family—my name—”

His expression cracks like porcelain. You reach for him, frantic, already regretting the words—but he pulls back. Stands. Shadows crawl across his face. His eyes are wounded. Distant.

You feel the air change. The soft warmth turns bitter. Cold. The candles gutter out.

The world shifts, vanishes like smoke and you feel the biting cold of the ground beneath you. Your body lies still on the floor, draped in bridal silk. Pale. Fragile. Your throat marked by red, too much red. Throat slit. A flower wilted before bloom.

Seoha is bent over you, hands shaking, blood on his mouth from where he tried to kiss you awake. He sobs—not loudly. Not like a man. But like something primal breaking apart. “No…” he chokes. “No, please. You promised me. You were mine. You chose me—”

He clutches you tighter, his tears slip onto your skin—silent, shuddering, like confessions too late. His grip turns bruising. Desperate. Like if he holds you hard enough, time might rewind. Like the blood staining your silk will fade.

But it doesn't.

The room stays still. Too still. The soft rustle of curtains. The faint clink of ornaments. A life continuing… without you in it. He rocks you in his arms. Once. Twice.

"Wake up," he whispers. "You said you loved me." Your head doesn’t tilt. Your lashes don’t flutter. "You said you were mine."

His breath hitches. The world doesn't burn—but something deeper does… inside him. A split down the center of his soul. He presses his mouth to yours—one last time. Still, he holds you. Still, he doesn't let go. Not even when your body cools beneath him.

You wake with a sound caught in your throat. A gasp. A sob. A name—no, two names—

“Seoha…” “Haneul—”

You jolt upright. The world is red. Not fire, not blood, but something deeper. Your vision is soaked in crimson and grief. The aftershock of lives you didn’t live—lives you lost. Your chest heaves like something’s been torn from it. Your ribs ache from a scream that never made it out. Your heart heavy with so much pain.

Next to you, there’s movement—fast, frantic. Romance—Seoha—bolts upright, his hand catching your arm before you can tip forward and clutching you to his chest. “Y/N—” His voice is wrecked. “What did you see? Tell me—did something happen? Tell me baby-”

He’s already cupping your face, thumbs trembling against your cheeks. “Please say something. Please. You’re scaring me—”

But you can’t speak. The grief is too big. The pain is too old. Your lip wobbles. Then the doors burst open like a dam breaking. Haneul arrives first, barefoot, breathless, eyes blazing with panic. Jinu right behind him, followed by Baby and Mystery, all drawn by the invisible tether of your soul to theirs. All five look like they’re in agony just seeing you there—not okay.

You look up at them and break. You hurl yourself into Haneul’s arms. His hands catch you instantly, anchoring you to his chest like he’s done this a thousand times in a thousand lives.

“I’m here,” he breathes into your hair, voice rough with emotion. “I’m here, baby. I’ve got you. I’ve got you—don’t cry like that, please don’t cry like that.”

You release another painful sob as you cry into his chest. It hurts. Jinu drops to his knees beside you, taking your hand in both of his, kissing your knuckles like they’re holy. “She’s remembering,” he says softly. “She’s remembering what happened.”

Baby’s fists are clenched. He looks like he might punch through the wall. Or the sky. “Who did this to her?” he growls, but the rage is hollow. Useless. “Who made her feel this way?”

“No one,” Mystery says, almost inaudible. “It’s us. She’s feeling us. And their pain.”

Seoha shifts behind you, pulling you into his lap like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t wrap every limb around you. His face is ghost-white, his chest bare, still heaving from the terror of waking to your pain. “I thought you were dying,” he says. “God, I thought you were leaving me again.”

You’re shaking uncontrollably. “I saw you,” you whisper. “Both of you.” Your eyes lock with Haneul’s. “I saw you burning. Bleeding. Screaming for me.”

Then with Seoha. “And you… holding my body. I was dead. And you—you were breaking.”

Every boy in the room stills. There’s a silence thick enough to choke on. “I felt everything,” you whisper. “Your heartbreak. Your love. It hurt so much, I thought I was going to die with you.”

Abby presses his forehead to your temple. “I’d die every lifetime if it meant I got to hold you again.”

Jinu kisses your wrist. “You’re here. With us, baby. That’s all that matters.”

Baby’s hands shake as he kneels in front of you. “Don’t ever cry like that again. I’ll kill the world if it makes you cry like that.”

Mystery crawls in beside you, head pressing gently to your shoulder. “We’re with you now,” he murmurs, “and we’ll never leave again.”

And then… Seoha. He turns your chin to face him. His eyes burn. “You think I’m afraid of losing you?” he whispers. “I’m not. Because I won’t. I won’t. Even if I have to tear the heavens open and drag you back from them.”

His lips graze yours—not yet a kiss. Just a whisper of devotion. “You died in my arms once,” he says. “I’m never letting you out of them again.”

And suddenly— They’re all touching you. A thumb brushing your cheekbone. A hand on your back. A kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your collarbone. Your jaw. Your hands.

Worship, in the form of fingertips and lips. Possession, in the shape of tenderness. You’re overwhelmed. Soft sobs slip free—but not from pain this time. From feeling too much.

Because you’re not alone. Because you’re loved so deeply, it’s terrifying. Because the grief you inherited belongs to them, and they’re trying—desperately—to kiss it all away.

You lean into it. Into them. They hold you tighter. You are theirs. And they are yours.

And for a moment, that’s enough. Even if it shouldn’t be. Even if you know—deep down—something darker is still coming.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

There’s a difference between the six of you as the day begins. Something in the air shifts—softer, but heavier. Like the weight of too many emotions pressing on fragile glass.

After you’d cried yourself back to sleep, they hadn’t left you alone. Not for a second. They kissed you until your lashes fluttered shut, until your breathing calmed. Until your pain dulled beneath their whispers and vows.

But today… they had to leave. Just for a few hours. Idol obligations, they said. Interviews. Meet-ups. “We’ll be back before you even miss us,” Haneul had teased, planting a kiss behind your ear.

At first, the silence is peaceful. You sit in the studio, sunlight spilling through the sheer curtains as you try to lose yourself in paint. But your hands— Your fingers tremble slightly. The brush wavers. You blink. Colors blur on the page. A wave of heat rolls through your chest.

“Ugh,” you mutter, pressing your wrist to your forehead. “Maybe I skipped lunch…” You feel dizzy. Strange. Not sick—just… wrong. Like your body isn’t fully yours.

An hour passes. Then two. You drink water. Open a window. Try humming to yourself. But nothing helps. Your skin feels too tight. The room feels too small. And something in your ribs aches—not like illness, but absence. Like being stretched too far from something you're not meant to live without.

“What the hell… I thought the bond symptoms had subsided…” you grumble in frustration. It was so strange. You had felt normal when they left the other day. By the fourth hour, your breath starts to hitch. You lie on the couch, curled up in one of Mystery’s oversized hoodies, trying not to cry. And then—finally—

The front door opens. Footsteps. Voices. The moment you hear it—you bolt.

“Y/N?” Jinu calls out, stepping into the hallway.

But he doesn’t get another word in before you launch yourself at him, arms wrapping around his neck, legs clinging to his waist like a koala. And immediately as you breathe in his scent, you start to feel better.

“Whoa—” he stumbles slightly, catching you with practiced ease. “Miss you too, baby.”

Haneul bursts out laughing behind him. “Damn, give us five seconds to drop our bags!”

“She’s not messing around,” Seoha murmurs, smirking, eyes dark with something more than amusement.

But it’s Mystery—last to enter—who freezes in the doorway. His nose twitches. He steps closer, gaze flicking over you. “You were sick,” he says. Not a question. “But not anymore.”

You blink, still clinging to Jinu’s chest. “How did you—?”

“You don’t smell right when we’re gone. You smell wrong.” His expression is tight. “Like something’s pulling you apart.”

“I just felt weird,” you whisper. “Shaky. Hot. Like… I couldn’t breathe unless one of you walked in the door.”

They all go still and exchange questioning glances. Jinu kisses the top of your head. “You’re okay now.”

“No,” Baby says. “She wasn’t.”

Seoha hums, stepping behind you to run a hand down your spine. “It’s the bond getting stronger. A flare up. That’s all.”

“Sure,” Mystery says under his breath. “The bond.” It should be more stabilzed now. He wonders to himself. So why is she having flare-ups?

But his eyes stay on you—watching the way you bury yourself deeper into Jinu’s hold. Watching how the tension in your body bleeds away as they gather around you again, like wolves circling a den. He sees it before the rest of them do. You aren’t just missing them. You need them. Not emotionally. Physically. Spiritually.

Later that day, you’re curled up on the couch, sketching lazily as the boys come and go around you. Music plays low from the kitchen.

Baby flops beside you, long legs sprawled, arms behind his head. His fingers trail across your wrist—just a touch, light as breath. And suddenly—

The colors around you sharpen. The lines of your drawing look too crisp. The air crackles faintly, like a TV left on the wrong channel. You flinch, breath catching. “What was that…?”

Baby raises a brow. “What?”

You shake your head. “Nothing. I’m probably just—overtired or something.” But your heart is pounding. There’s something alive in your blood. Something that doesn’t belong to you.

That night, the boys cook dinner—galbi and japchae sizzling on the stove, the air thick with spice, garlic, and warmth. You’re chopping vegetables at the counter, sleeves rolled to your elbows, hair tied up in a messy knot. For once, it feels almost normal. Like you're a person again. Like you still live in a world that follows rules.

Seoha brushes behind you—too close, always too close—and passes you a spoon. His hand lingers a second longer than needed, fingers grazing yours. The second your skin touches his—

The stove erupts. Flames leap like claws from the burner. Not a flicker. A flare. Fierce. Bright. Hungry. You flinch. The knife clatters onto the cutting board. Everyone stills. For one perfect second, silence tightens the room like a wire pulled taut. Haneul steps forward, slowly. “That’s not the stove.”

Jinu doesn’t take his eyes off you. “It wasn’t broken earlier.”

Seoha doesn’t move. His hand stays on yours, calm—too calm. “She’s okay,” he murmurs. “It was just a flare.”

“From what?” you whisper, pulse skittering. They don’t answer. Not immediately. Then Jinu speaks, voice soft but heavy: “She centers us.” He swallows. Adds quieter—almost like it hurts to admit it: “Too well. Too completely.”

Mystery moves in from the hallway, his eyes already glowing faintly. He doesn’t come closer—just inhales, deeply. “…She smells like equilibrium,” he murmurs. “Like home.”

Your heart stutters. You take a step back. The boys don’t let you. Seoha slides behind you again, arms wrapping lightly around your waist. Haneul stands at your side, fingers brushing your wrist. Baby tilts his head from across the kitchen, watching you like a predator sizing up something that already belongs to him.

“Soulbond’s getting stronger,” Baby says, voice amused. “Cute, huh?”

You let out an uneasy laugh, your smile only slightly unsure.  Because under your skin, something curls tighter. Thicker. This isn’t just a bond. It’s a root system. A fire line. A storm surge. Something old is waking in you—and whatever it is, it’s bound to them.

And they know it. You can feel it in the way they look at you. Reverent. Possessive. A little afraid. Not afraid for you. Afraid of losing you. Afraid of what they’d do if that balance—you—was ever broken.

“Hey,” Jinu says gently, moving closer. “Don’t run from this. Whatever’s changing… it’s not hurting you. It’s anchoring us.”

“I don’t want to be an anchor,” you whisper.

Seoha presses a kiss behind your ear. “Too late.”

And all around you—five demons in human skin, eyes glowing soft with need, obsession, love—they just watch you.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

“No.”

“Please.” You plead with the best puppy-dog eyes you could muster. “I don’t want your fans suspecting anything or posting about me.” 

The boys had brought you along to their variety show. A result of your sickness when they were away yesterday. “I’d rather die than have you sick again because of me.” Baby said this morning with a grumble before forcing you to get dressed. 

Such events had lead to now, as you watch the five of them stare at you like you’ve grown a second head. Haneul crosses his arms. “That’s literally what disguises are for.”

“I won’t go far,” you insist. “I’ll stay in the mall right next to the building. You can check on me between segments. I just don’t want so many eyes looking at me and suspecting anything… and with the way you guys act, that’s bound to happen.”

“What do you mean?” Jinu asks.

“She means how none of us can keep our paws off her.” Seoha smirks. “Fine. But behave.”

Baby begins to protest. “But-!”

You smile, triumphant. “I will. Promise!”

He glares at you.

Twenty minutes later, you’re sipping warm broth at a tucked-away ramen stall in the back of the upper floor food court—alone, but not quite free. You know they’re watching. Mystery’s familiar warmth lingers like a phantom near your ribs. Jinu's voice still echoes in your ear: “Don’t go anywhere unfamiliar.”

So naturally, when the air turns colder—too cold—you go still. Your breath fogs, though the mall is heated. The hairs rise on your arms. And then—

A figure sits across from you. No footsteps. No sound. Just is. An old man. Not old like human elders, but ancient. His eyes don’t reflect light. They drink it. His suit is formal, black and gray, timeless in a way that doesn’t belong in this century—or any. You freeze, chopsticks mid-air.

“I see why he’s… intrigued by you,” the man says, voice smooth like rusted metal. He takes a deep breath and lets out a smile that chills you to the bone. “You taste like paradox.”

“…Excuse me?”

He doesn’t blink. “You’re tethered,” he murmurs. “To five fractured souls. A full hand’s worth. I’ve never seen it before.”

You grip your chopsticks. “I’m not—”

“You are,” he cuts in softly. “But it’s not finished. Not yet. That’s the dangerous part.” he chuckles in amusement. “The old fool doesn’t know what he’s just done to himself.”

Your stomach turns cold.

“He suspects. But he doesn’t know. Not yet. Your bond is rare. Raw. Unfinished. It could collapse. Or… become something eternal.”

You swallow. “Who suspects what now? And what do you mean, tether?”

He tilts his head. Slow. Exact. Like measuring a blade before it slides between ribs. The demon before you didn’t bother answering your questions. “I once had a friend,” he says. “Smart. Loyal. Desperate. He wanted what you are becoming.”

Your breath catches. “What happened to him?”

The man’s mouth twitches into something like pity. “He failed.”

“Why?”

“He tried to force what should only grow. He tried to anchor love with power. To make a bridge out of obsession. But the soul he bound to wasn’t strong enough. She was never the foundation.”

Your heart stammers. “She couldn’t bear it?”

“She unraveled.” He says it like poetry. Like eulogy. “She died screaming. And so did he.”

You feel it in your bones. The truth. The horror. But what shreds your spine is the feeling that this isn’t a warning—it’s a mirror.

The old demon smiles. “Be careful, child. You are something rare. Not quite human anymore. Not yet divine. If you’re not careful, they’ll tear you in five.”

Your breath hitches. “Who are you?”

He ignores the question. Instead, he leans forward, eyes pale and burning. “There will be a price,” he whispers. “Always. The question is not if you’ll pay it—” His breath brushes your cheek. “—but whether you choose to.”

You jolt back— The lights flicker above. Your ramen is untouched. Your body is shaking. Something cold coils in your spine. You don't realize you're gripping the edge of the table until your knuckles burn.

Who is this demon? And what in god’s name is he talking about?

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Back in the studio, the audience claps. The host jokes. The boys are seated on two couches for the show. Abby fake-laughs at something that didn’t land. 

But Mystery’s head snaps up. His whole body goes rigid. The camera catches it—just for a second. The host frowns. “You alright there, Mystery?”

Abby shoots him a glance. “He’s been feeling sick today,” Jinu says smoothly, stepping in. The host makes a sympathetic noise. “Aw, poor guy.”

But Romance has already frozen. Baby’s eye twitches. They feel it too—you. Your fear. 

Mystery doesn’t say a word. He walks offstage right in the middle of the taping. The crowd gasps. Abby forces a laugh. “We told him not to eat six boiled eggs before a shoot.”

Laughter bubbles. Cameras roll. But the boys go cold inside. Because something just reached you.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Mystery’s feet are soundless on the tile as he enters the upper floor of the mall. His eyes are darker. Sharper. Not quite human. And then he sees you.

You. Sitting at the corner stall. Shaking. His heart drops. A growl rises in his throat. And then he sees him. The Old One. Still there. Still smiling. Mystery’s body shifts—just enough for his nails to blacken. Fangs graze his lower lip.

“Step away,” he snarls.

 The demon raises a brow. “The beast comes.”

“You scared her.”

The old one stands. Unbothered. “I told her the truth.”

Mystery stills. “You think I won’t rip you apart in front of civilians?”

“I think,” the demon says lightly, “that if you do, she’ll burn faster.”

That stills Mystery. A flicker of fang. A twitch of the claw. But no strike.

“You don’t want her revealed, do you?” the man hums. “Not yet.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

The old demon smiles, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “Ah, I see. Even you don’t know.”

“Know what?!”

The old demon chuckles. “But you can feel it, more than the others… the ‘bond’” he stretches the last word like it’s a joke he’d just made. 

Mystery growls at the mention of the bond, eyes growing protective, angry. He goes to take a swipe and then, like smoke curling from a candle—the demon vanishes. Mystery rushes to you. You collapse into his arms the moment he reaches you, clinging so tightly it almost hurts. “Shhh, it’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” His voice is lower than usual—closer to a growl. “We’ll talk later. I’m getting you out of here.”

He carries you from the mall with a hoodie over your head, your ramen left behind, your pulse still racing.

He carries you for a few minutes and then there’s a flash. It’s quiet. Still. Only the wind and the sound of water lapping the rocks. He’s brought you to a secluded park just beyond the city—hidden and safe. You have no idea what’s going on. How you got here so fast. Fear still gripping your thoughts. 

He sits you down on a wooden bench, you on his lap as he cradles your form protectively. Finally—

“What did he say to you?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. I don’t understand. Something about his friend, and that I’m becoming something, and to be careful not to tear apart, A choice-” your voice is shaky, trying to remember all you could after such a situation. 

Mystery’s arms wrap around you tighter. “Okay, okay, baby…” he shushes and rocks you as a way to soothe your rapidly beating heart. But in his eyes—beastlike and broken—something ancient and possessive sparks.

You lean into his chest, listening to the low rumble of his breath, the occasional thud of his heartbeat, the way his arms tighten each time you twitch. Finally, your voice comes—hoarse, quiet. A whisper more than a question. “Who… who was that?”

Mystery stiffens behind you. For a second, you think he won’t answer. Then—

“An Old One,” he murmurs. “Older than me. Older than any of us.”

You pull back slightly to look at him. “Like… a demon?” 

He nods, slowly. “More like… a ghost of the first demons. They don’t take orders. Even Gwi Ma doesn’t command them. They don’t usually come out of hiding unless…”

“Unless what?”

His jaw flexes. His eyes are darker now, less gold—more like molten obsidian. “Unless something’s changing.”

You swallow. The air feels too still. The wind too quiet. Mystery brushes a hand over your arm, almost absentmindedly. Like he’s grounding himself.

“He knew things,” you whisper. “He said things I didn’t understand. About… tethering. About bonds.” You look up at him. “Do you know what he meant?”

Mystery’s eyes lock with yours. And you’ve never seen him look so helpless. “No,” he says honestly. “I don’t. I swear, little one. If I did… I’d tell you.”

You study his face. Every line of sincerity. Every flicker of confused concern. He truly doesn’t know. “But he scared you,” he adds softly. “That’s enough. I should’ve been there.”

“It’s not your fault,” you say, but your voice trembles.

Mystery pulls closer. His hands slide up your spine. His nose presses into the crook of your neck. He inhales deeply—shuddering. “You smell better now,” he murmurs, a little too possessively. “Not like fear anymore.”

You try to calm your heartbeat, but his tone wraps around your nerves like a snare. “He shouldn’t have touched your peace,” he growls. “He had no right.”

You rest your head against his shoulder, the thrum of anxiety still vibrating in your chest. He nuzzles your temple. “You’re mine to scare. Mine to break. Mine to fix.”

You blink. “Mystery—”

“I won’t let them take you,” he says simply. “Not Gwi Ma. Not the hunters. Not the Old Ones. Not even fate.”

Your breath hitches.

“But I don’t know what you are,” he admits. “Only that you’re… ours. The piece we were missing. The reason we’re even still sane.”

You close your eyes, the river whispering nearby. Something deep, quiet, ancient curls in your stomach. Not fear. Not anymore. But not comfort either. Something’s shifting. And it has a name. You just don’t know it yet.

The silence stretches again, soft and heavy. Water ripples faintly beside you. The breeze carries the faintest scent of pine and memory. Mystery shifts. You feel it in the way his arms tighten around you—not possessive this time. Not protective. Just… needing.

“I’ve never told you,” he murmurs, “what you were to me. The first time.” Your breath catches. His voice is rough—barely more than a growl smoothed by sorrow.

“You weren’t like this then. You were smaller. Weaker. Human in every way. But you were kind. You sang when no one else did.”

You blink slowly, his breath warm near your ear.

“Three-hundred years ago. It was the Sick Season,” he continues, voice low. “That’s what they called it. The people in your village. They thought the illness was punishment. Or a curse. The priests said prayers. The elders said nothing.”

His fingers stroke your arm absently, grounding himself. “Your siblings were coughing. You didn’t cough yet. So you walked into the woods one night with a lantern and begged the sky for help. I don’t think you expected an answer.”

He exhales. A shaky, fond sound. “But I came. As fog first. Then fur. Then form. And you…” His throat closes. You feel the tremor in him. “You weren’t scared.”

You blink, heart fluttering. “I should have been,” you whisper.

“No,” he says immediately. “You shouldn’t have. Because you saved me first.”

He tilts your face to meet his eyes—molten gold, wide and wet with something too ancient for tears. “You gave me a name,” he murmurs, half-laughing. “A silly one. I didn’t even know what it meant. But you said it like it mattered. Like I mattered.” His mouth brushes your forehead. His eyes closing in content and fondness. “You had called me Hwimori, saying I moved like a whirlwind. However, over time you shortened it…”

Your eyes flashed a crimson as a memory flooded back into you. You uttered his name with a soft gasp of remembrance. “...Hwi”

You felt him purr beneath you and his grip on you tightened at the sound of his name on your lips. He shook slightly as if he might break — because no one’s called him that since you… “Yes…” he breathed a laugh of disbelief. “That’s what it was…” 

You clutched on his sweater tightly, burying your nose in his neck. He sighed in content before continuing. “You fed me crumbs. Apples. You made up songs about the wind. You thought I was just a lonely fox. And I was. But then you… you looked at me like I wasn’t.”

You swallow, throat burning. Mystery presses his forehead to yours. “I didn’t understand death. I didn’t understand why you were singing less, sleeping more. Your hum faded, and I thought I could fix it by keeping you warm. By staying. By loving harder.” He shakes his head slowly. “But love couldn’t stop it. You died with your hand in my fur.”

You flinch. His arms tighten around you. “They dragged me away. I bit them. Changed shape by accident. I didn’t know how to be anything but yours, and they took you anyway.”

His voice breaks now—hoarse, unsteady. “They called me cursed. A beast. And maybe they were right. Because after that, I couldn’t go back to what I was. I couldn’t even remember how.” He closes his eyes. “My grief broke me. My body. My soul. I lost you, and I never stopped howling.”

Tears sting your lashes.

“I wandered for years,” he whispers. “Villages. Mountains. Cities. I learned how to speak. How to walk on two legs. I waited for you. Hoped for you. Even when I forgot your name, I remembered the sound of your laughter.”

You let out a choked sound. His fingers catch it, tracing your jaw. “I didn’t know pain until you stopped singing,” he says. “And even now, even here—centuries later—you hum in your sleep, and it quiets the monster in me. And why now I sing… for you.”

Your voice is a whisper. “I remember… the vision. You curled against my legs.”

“That was real,” he says. “It was the first time I ever felt warm.” Another pause. This one tender, terrible. “They said I was a demon. That I shouldn’t feel. But I did. Because of you. You made me feel—so I became something that could feel you back.”

You shift in his lap, cupping his cheeks with both hands. His eyes flutter shut. His breath shudders. “They said I was a beast,” he murmurs. “But I only ever wanted to be yours.”

You kiss his cheek. He makes a sound—raw and startled—like he’s been starving for it. Like the feel of your lips is too much and not enough. His breath hitches, sharp, and you hear it break in his throat.

“You touched me,” he whispers hoarsely, “and I called it forever.”

Your heart cracks. He’s shaking again—not from fear, but from something deeper. Centuries of ache coiled tight in his chest. Something caged too long. His nose brushes yours, his lips just shy of your mouth, and his hands are trembling against your waist like he’s terrified to want this.

But you do.

So you close the space between you. You kiss him. And everything stops.

You taste the reverence in it—how he doesn’t quite believe it’s real. The shudder that runs down his spine is almost violent. His breath catches like his lungs are learning how to fill for the first time. Like his body never understood how to live until now.

He kisses you like someone who’s never been touched. Like someone who’s wandered lifetimes in thirst, and your mouth is the first drop of water he’s ever found. His hands fly to your back, your waist, your neck—like he needs to feel every inch of you, as if skin-to-skin contact might keep you from vanishing.

He kisses like a soulbeast, not a man. Like instinct. Like prayer. Like his entire existence was a howl that only just found its answer. You pull back just enough to breathe—but his lips chase you, his forehead resting on yours as his chest heaves.

“I’m here now,” you whisper.

His scarred mouth twitches, almost like a smile, but it’s broken. Fragile. Wounded. “I know,” he chokes. “And I’ll never—” His voice cracks. “Never let them take you again. I swear it. I swear—”

“I know,” you say, and kiss him again—quieter this time. Like a promise. And this time, when you curl deeper into his arms, you feel it. The tremor in him stills. 

For the first time in three hundred years, the beast stops trembling.

────────── ⚘ ────────── The air ripples. A breath. A blur. And then Mystery is there—materializing in the middle of the apartment with you in his arms.

“I didn’t know demons could teleport…” 

The moment your feet touch the ground, five shadows surge forward.

Jinu’s already halfway across the room, tie loosened, eyes wild with tension. Seoha and Haneul shoot up from the couch. Baby’s pacing like a storm about to break, jaw clenched, fists flexing and curling. The bond in the room is a live wire—buzzing, seething, flaring.

You barely have time to exhale before they close in. Arms wrap around you from all sides. Jinu’s hands cup your face. Haneul holds you from behind, burying his face into your neck. Seoha presses his forehead to your shoulder. Baby—Baby doesn’t touch you at all. He stands just inches away, vibrating with barely restrained rage, like one wrong word might shatter the floor beneath you.

“You’re okay,” Jinu murmurs, breath shaking. “You’re really okay…”

“I felt it,” Haneul breathes. “The fear. Your fear.”

“You were burning,” Seoha whispers. “The bond flared so hot I thought I’d combust.”

“I told you,” Baby snarls, teeth bared. “She never should’ve left our sight. I told you.”

“Baby—” Jinu starts, but he cuts him off.

“No. No more of this.” He steps toward you finally, eyes glowing faintly. “You think I’m dramatic? Obsessive? Fine. But if anything—anything—had happened to you, I would’ve burned that entire building down. You hear me?” His hand trembles as he reaches out and presses two fingers to your wrist. “I’d obliterate everything.”

“Baby…” you whisper.

He exhales sharply and pulls you into his arms. “I wasn’t angry,” he mutters against your hair. “I was scared.”

You feel it. All of them. Their fear. Their restraint. Their absolute fury at the thought of losing you again. Seoha sinks onto the couch, dragging you with him. The others follow—pressing close, limbs tangled, the kind of closeness only soul-starved creatures know.

“What happened?” Jinu asks, voice controlled, but his eyes are pure flame.

Mystery doesn’t flinch. “An Old One,” he says. “He was waiting for her.”

The room stills. No one speaks. Mystery continues, voice low and gravelly. “He didn’t hurt her. But… he knew something. Said strange things. I got her out before I could kill him.”

You lean against Jinu, your body finally remembering how to breathe. “He said…” You close your eyes. “That He suspects something. That my bond is unfinished. That it could become something eternal. Or collapse entirely.”

“He?” Haneul asks. You nod and mutter softly, “I think… I think he’s walking about Gwi Ma.”

Jinu stills. Seoha leans forward. “Did he say what it meant?”

You shake your head. “Only that he had a friend. A demon who tried to force a bond like mine. And that… it tore his lover apart.”

Silence. Jinu’s hand tightens where it rests on your thigh. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t breathe. But you feel it. In the bond. In his bones. A flicker of something like recognition.

“Jinu,” Seoha says, frowning. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” Jinu says too quickly. Liar. He knows something. Just not enough to say it out loud. Not yet.

Maybe he doesn’t believe it. Maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s because the story he heard—the fable of a demon who tried to tether a human soul and failed—always felt like a fairytale. A cautionary myth whispered by demons about the cost of unnatural love.

But now… You’re sitting in front of him. And it doesn’t feel so mythical anymore.

“I’ll find him again,” Mystery mutters darkly. “The next time he speaks to her, I won’t hold back.”

Haneul’s eyes glint with the same promise. “We should’ve gone with you.”

“She wouldn’t have felt fear if we were there,” Baby growls. “She wouldn’t need to feel fear again if she just stayed with us.”

“I wasn’t trying to be reckless,” you whisper. “I just wanted to—”

“You don’t get to be reckless,” Seoha says, not unkindly. “Not when you belong to us.”

You flinch slightly. Not from his tone. From how much you don’t flinch at the possessiveness anymore. They’re all quiet for a moment. Then Jinu softens. His hand brushes your hair behind your ear. “You’re tired.”

Mystery lifts you again before anyone else can move. “I’ll take her.”

There’s no argument. The boys each kiss your head goodnight, lingering longer than they usually do. Mystery carries you to bed like you’re breakable porcelain. Like you're the center of the world and he's afraid you might shatter. You lie down, and he tucks you in, brushing your hair back with fingers that still shake. You touch his wrist. 

“I liked the name,” you whisper. “Hwi.”

His throat tightens as he smiles softly. He nods. Then curls beside you, arms locking around your waist. He buries his nose in your hair. Your scent as an anchor to his very being. 

You fall asleep like that. In the arms of the beast who once guarded your grave. And once your breath evens, he slips out of the room.

The boys are waiting in the living room, the lights dim. No one speaks for a long time. Finally, Jinu says, “There’s a chance—just a chance—that she’s becoming something.”

“Something?” Haneul repeats.

“A… tether,” Jinu murmurs. “But it’s just an old myth. A story.”

Baby’s eyes narrow. “What kind of story?”

Jinu leans back, staring at the ceiling. “One where a demon tried to bind a human soul too tightly. To keep them. Forever. Without the need for Gwi Ma’s intervention. It didn’t end well.”

Seoha’s voice is ice. “And if this isn’t a story?”

“Then she’s not just bonded to us,” Jinu says slowly. “She anchors us.”

Mystery- Hwimori snarls low in his throat. “What do you mean? She’s already ours. What more can she become?”

Jinu doesn’t answer. But the word echoes in his mind. She could become the anchor. Not just to us. To everything.

He couldn’t say that now. Not without further proof. But every one of them is thinking the same thing. If she is becoming something more— They’ll burn heaven and hell before letting it take her away.

TO BE CONTINUED

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

A/N: Yayy Mystery backstory! His past is a bit different from the other boys. His origins weren't human. He was a soul beast that corrupted after your death - which explains his deep senses and connection to you. Because he was a spirit, the name Hwimori fit more as it was one given to him by you (and also not a human name). Hwimori is the name of a Korean rhythmic pattern used in traditional Korean music. It's known for being fast-paced, spiraling, and intense—like a whirlwind. And so the name Hwimori pretty much embodies the chaotic grace of a spirit-beast born from instinct, emotion, and ritual. Like the rhythm, he is relentless, spiraling around you, driven by feeling more than logic. You shorten it to “Hwi,” turning something wild and sacred into something personal and tender.

───────── ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆ ─────────

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[rorys-regular-blog]

Oh hey! I’m flattered you noticed my tags omg

Sadly I haven’t seen the live action yet, but from what I’ve heard it is a 1 for 1 retelling of the original, so I don’t have too many thoughts on it that can’t be summed up by anything else anyone has said on it or other live actions remakes (ie i think remaking animated shit into live action is bad 99% of the time, and while remaking it 1 for 1 is lazy, pulling a Lilo and Stitch 2025 and butchering the messaging of the film would be far worse.)

I also haven’t seen most of the shorts in awhile, nor have I watched all of Race to the Edge, so sadly I can’t rank those (however I have seen all of Riders of Berk, which I will get to later.) Luckily, I HAVE seen Gift of the Night Fury, and I rewatched it quite recently.

To paraphrase from my Letterbox’d review of HTTYD 3 (Which you can find here, if you’re interested in some my in depth thoughts of that film- https://letterboxd.com/PolaroidFox/films/reviews/ ) I believe that the short not only handled the themes of the first movie better, but is a better representation of the relationship that Hiccup and Toothless have. I find it astounding that writers were able to capture their dynamic (and HTTYD’s worldbuilding as a whole) so much better in shorts like these made almost a decade prior with a mere sliver of the budget that HTTYD 3 received. And the fact that HTTYD 3 went out of its way to reference this short in particular with the scene of Hiccup giving Toothless a tail that he HAD REJECTED in the past makes the disparity between the movie and the short all the more embarrassing imo. Its like they watched the short and didn’t pick up any of the themes and just used the prosthetic wing as an excuse to butcher Toothless’s character and seperate him from Hiccup.

As for Riders of Berk - I think the worldbuilding and characterization is at best on par and at worst a little weaker than that of the first two films. Its also about on par to Gift of the Night Fury to me. I like the characters the show introduces. Its crazy to me that the movies never tried to dive into the idea of even a singular member of Berk being jarred / upset by the sudden acceptance of Dragons. Its such a great character concept that is well utilized with Mildew. Though I will say Alvin kind of just seems like a weaker version of Drago made before him, but eh. I do really need to rewatch the show and watch Race to the Edge though, I have memory loss issues so some of the details are kind of fuzzy for me lol.

I did also watch Httyd Homecoming and I do remember really disliking it. It made the already flimsy ‘all dragons left’ thing even weaker by allowing the shittily designed nightlights go out and about to fuck around.

With that in mind, here’s my ranking of everything ive seen:

Httyd 1 > Httyd 2 > Riders of Berk ≥ Gift Of The Nightfury > Httyd 3 > Homecoming > A literal dumpster fire > Nine Realms

Sorry for the wall of text btw, HTTYD is one of my favorite things ever and I could rant about it for days lol

I'm still salty about them changing his design after the first movie.

EDIT: Since people keep saying the changes are subtle/not really there, I'm putting this in the main post.

[three-semicolons]

Prompt: During a fight with a magical entity, members of the bat family are all forced to hear Dick’s inner thoughts. Luckily, the magic is set to naturally fade in a few weeks, but unluckily, there is no way to expedite the process. They figure that telling Dick would only serve to make him uncomfortable, so it is decided cumulatively to keep quiet about it.

A lot is revealed, but now those afflicted with the curse must decide whether it’s worth it to confess the whole situation to Dick or to leave the revelations unaddressed.

Below are possible avenues this could be taken, from fluffy to angsty:

1.) Everyone kind of doubts that Dick loves them as much as he says. There’s so much self-loathing in the bat family that, even though Dick hugs and comforts and serves in any way he can, there’s always this underlying notion that it’s all a performance.

But then Dick tells Tim “good job” on a patrol night, and his inner thoughts continue with an I’m so proud of you. Look at how much you’ve grown.

Jason decides to actually come to dinner one night and Dick gives him a polite hug, but inside he’s gushing I can’t believe you’re here, I’m so happy to see you, I missed you, I love you.

Bruce gives Dick an apology for something he did and Dick accepts it in a way that Bruce would normally interpret as more placating than anything, but then he hears I could never hate you, you’re everything to me, I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done.

Stephanie feels insecure about her place as a vigilante, and Dick tells her she’s doing just fine. But as he walks away to continue his route, she hears You’re just like me, all fire and passion and determination. I can’t believe how well you’ve made a name for yourself — better, younger, and with less support than I ever had.

Etc etc.

2.) Number 1 but angsty. Essentially, Dick’s real reaction to the jabs his siblings make.

Damian makes some throw-away comment about Dick being trailer trash or of impure blood and Dick responds with his normal chastising grin and a “Dami, come on now!”. But Damian is flooded with memories of cold juvie hallways and the longing for a crowded bonfire and raucous laughter while inside an empty, desolate manor and an I miss you please come back I love you please-

Jason spits a comment about Dick being a perfect golden boy with Batman wrapped around his finger and Dick playfully sticks out his tongue, but inner-Dick retorts with a grim I wish he felt that way. Maybe then he would have adopted me.

Tim is ranting about his most recent relationship woes to Dick and makes an off-hand comment about how he wouldn’t understand because he’ll take any ass he can get and implies he’s kind of a man-whore, but chokes halfway through when he’s suddenly flooded with rain and a painful grip on his wrists and a pleading no please stop please I’m poison don’t touch me. It disappears almost instantly, and the only affirmation he gets that anything happened at all is the worried look Dick flashes at him — like Tim was the one they should be concerned about.

3.) Dick’s inner monologue is filled with a series of statements that are increasingly worrying. They begin as what could be excused as weird intrusive thoughts or just Dick being Dick, but a combination of recurring themes and escalating severity causes the family to eventually realize that something is very wrong. Use your favorite Dick trauma of choice.

Add more if you want! You could also do something shippy if you want a character who thinks their crush on Dick is unrequited but it turns out Dick feels the same way, or even a silly game night fic where Dick keeps losing at Poker because he’s narrating his cards, and over time he becomes convinced that everyone is cheating. Which, you know, they kind of are.

Go nuts with it.

[juliettejwnewinesa]

Hello!! I wanted to ask you something real quick… SORRY FOR THE LONG TEXT BTW

We all know Seongje has that full-on psychopath energy when he wants to.

that smile, the way he moves, the control freak vibe HEHEHEHE. I would LOVE to see a oneshot where he’s with the reader but still acts like the same guy we saw in the series.

Most fics turn him into this soft, romantic version, but that’s just not how I see him😩. He’s the type who needs to know everything. Every step his partner takes, every person she talks to, every little interaction, he has to be aware of it all, really in control. (Preferably with an F!reader.)

So here’s my idea😛:

Seongje and the reader recently had a fight because of how jealous, possessive, and obsessive he can be.

But, and this is important, I don’t want the reader to be some sweet, innocent girl who just takes it. No. She’s got her own fire. She’s a bit unhinged too in her own way. She teases him, she likes seeing that insane side of him, but she also knows when to push and when to pull back. She’s more logical. She knows when she’s right, when she’s wrong, and when to act.

He, on the other hand? Acts first, thinks later. That’s what makes her the smarter one.

BUT I want Seongje to be that smart dumbass... like, clever in his own twisted way but still completely reckless when it comes to her.

They both have each other’s locations on (like that app Si-eun used in Season 1), but one night the reader completely ghosts him🔥🔥 ignores all his messages and calls, sneaks out late at night, and even leaves her phone at home so he can’t track her.

Somehow though… he finds her.

And when he does? He’s completely UNHINGED.

I want DRAMAAAA. I want TENSION. I want them screaming at each other, pushing each other’s buttons, absolutely going insane

and then finally, him snapping and reconciling with her like only he would.

Pleaseeee make it long AND DRAMATIC AND FULL OF TENSION AND AT THE SAME TIME PASSION AND OBSESSION COMING FROM BOTH SIDES😭😭🥺💃🏻😦 sorry but a seongje fan will always be out of her mind😋

pleeeease pls pls pls IM CRAZY

Title: Where the Hell Were You?

Pairing: Na Seongje x F!Reader Genre: Dark romance, psychological tension, obsession, angsty lovers, NSFW themes implied Word count: ~500 words TW: Toxic dynamic, possessiveness, shouting, cursing, physical confrontation (non-violent), manipulation, obsessive behavior, unhealthy attachment, implied smut Note: You asked for psychopath Seongje, and he’s here. With his whole chest.

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

It started with the phone calls. Then the messages. Then the silence.

You stared at the little device sitting so innocently on your nightstand, screen down, Seongje’s name long since stopped lighting it up. You could imagine him now—sitting in that godforsaken car, probably gripping the steering wheel so tight the leather would start to tear. You hadn’t brought your phone. No location, no texts, no breadcrumbs.

For the first time in months, you vanished from his radar.

And God, the feeling of it was electric.

You weren’t running away. You weren’t hiding. You just needed one night—one fucking night—to breathe. To go out, exist, not have your every movement stalked by that wolfish stare of his.

It wasn’t even about the guy at the party. You hadn’t done anything. You’d danced. Laughed. Threw your head back in a way you knew would make Seongje spiral.

He always spiraled.

“You like making me lose my mind?” he’d asked you once, voice raw with something that tasted like pain and need. “Do you like seeing me like this?”

And the answer had always been yes.

—

He found you anyway.

You didn’t even hear the car pull up—just felt it, like a pressure drop in the air. Like a storm cell rolling in.

You had just walked out of the small club. Quiet back street. The kind of place he’d never let you go to alone.

And then: “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

His voice was low. Dangerous. The kind of tone that made your skin break into goosebumps before you even turned around.

You turned anyway.

There he was—standing half in shadow, jaw locked so tight it could snap, black hair messy like he’d dragged his hands through it a thousand times. His chest rose and fell like he’d run here. Maybe he had.

Your lips curled. “Took you long enough.”

“Where’s your phone?”

“Home.”

“You left your fucking phone?” He was already storming up to you, his voice rising with every step. “You turned off your location? Ignored all my fucking messages—and you think this is funny?”

You shrugged. “Little bit.”

“Y/N,” he ground out, stepping so close your backs hit the wall behind you. “You think you’re clever, right? You think this is a fucking game?”

“No. But you do.” You smiled, slow and sharp. “You wanna be the one who controls the board. I just flipped it over.”

His eyes flashed. “You don’t get to do that.”

“Why not?” you shot back. “You think because you know who I text, where I go, what I wear—suddenly I’m yours? You think that means you get to scream at me every time some guy breathes in my direction? You’re not my fucking warden, Seongje.”

He leaned in, voice like broken glass. “You are mine.”

“And what if I’m not?”

“Then I’ll make you be.”

You blinked at him, not even flinching. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

He was silent. Dead silent. And then—bang—his hand slammed against the wall next to your head, just missing your face.

You didn’t even move. “There it is.”

He stared at you. Breathing hard. Eyes burning. That slow, deranged smile stretching across his lips.

“You like this,” he muttered.

You tilted your chin up. “Don’t you?”

Silence crackled between you. Not calm. Tension. A live wire hanging just between your bodies.

“I should’ve dragged you home the second I found your location was off,” he hissed.

“You didn’t.”

“I should have.”

“But you didn’t.”

He looked like he might explode.

So you stepped forward. Into his space. Your lips almost brushing his.

“You’re smart, Seongje,” you said softly. “But when it comes to me, you stop thinking. You always do.”

“I don’t need to think,” he snapped. “I just need to keep you where I can see you.”

“Then maybe you should’ve chained me up.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

That made your brow rise.

And then—it broke.

The moment cracked like thunder between you. One second you were glaring at him, and the next you were on him. Arms around his neck. His hands gripping your waist like he’d die if he let go. His lips crashing into yours like punishment. Like apology. Like pure rage.

“You drive me insane,” he growled between kisses.

“I know,” you gasped. “That’s the fun part.”

His mouth trailed down to your neck. You let him bite. You let him mark. You let him show you—like he always did—that he could never love you normally.

This wasn’t gentle. This wasn’t healing. This was ownership.

“You can’t just disappear on me,” he rasped. “Not again.”

“Then learn how to handle it.”

“I don’t want to learn. I want you.”

He yanked you closer. You felt every line of him—every frantic breath, every angry heartbeat.

“I hate the way you make me feel,” he said against your skin. “I hate that I lose my head for you. That I fucking spiral. That I can’t even think straight.”

You smiled into his shoulder. “Then maybe I’ll do it again.”

His laugh was breathless. Dangerous.

“You’re lucky I love you,” he muttered.

“You’re lucky I don’t run.”

“I’d find you.”

“I know.”

You both stood there, clinging, shaking, still burning with fury—but you needed it. Needed this cycle of chaos, of destruction, of passion. Because love for you two was never gentle. It was always a war. And in war, the one you fight hardest is the one you can’t live without.

So when he pulled back, gripping your chin, eyes crazed and glassy with something too heavy to name—

And said, “Get in the car.”

You did.

But only because you wanted to.

—

🖤 END 🖤

[aventurineswife]

hii! Can you please write about anaxa and ratio with a partner who has fluffy wings that likes to wrap them around in them :D

Of Feathers and Formulas

Tags: Ratio x Reader, Anaxa x Reader, Fluff, Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Soft Moments, Winged Reader, Affectionate Gestures, Emotional Vulnerability, Intellectuals in Love.

Warnings: Mild emotional themes (grief, isolation), Implied past trauma (?), Affectionate physical contact (hugging/cuddling).

It was late—far past the hour where the stars blurred into academic scatterplots and theories spun themselves into dreams. Ratio sat with legs crossed at the edge of his observatory desk, his coat draped on the back of his chair and sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing the faint golden glow of his arm bracers. His notes were scattered, illuminated under the cold-blue starlight funneling through the domed ceiling above.

You padded in silently behind him, your feathers rustling softly like wind through parchment. The sound broke the symphony of scribbles and thought.

“Again?” you asked softly, voice laced with amusement. “You said you’d rest tonight.”

He didn’t glance back. “I say many things. Only a few are worth committing to memory.”

You hummed and stepped forward until your shadow joined his. The moment your wings began to unfurl, Ratio’s pen stilled. You wrapped them around him—silken, warm, slightly shimmering under starlight—enclosing him in a gentle cocoon of feathers.

He stiffened at first, always so precise, always so composed, but the edges of his poise softened under your touch.

“I’ll forget this formula,” he murmured, but didn’t move to escape.

“You won’t,” you whispered. “You never forget anything. But you do ignore things worth remembering.”

Your fingers brushed his shoulder, and he sighed—not irritated, but almost... humbled. “A shame," he said dryly. "A brilliant intellect, undone by down feathers."

You giggled and leaned close, resting your chin on his shoulder from behind. “Even the greatest minds need warmth, Veritas.”

He turned his head slightly, enough for his eyes to meet yours. “Perhaps. But not all warmth is irrational.”

There was something reverent in the way he leaned back into your wings. The alabaster sculpture that often hid his face rested untouched on the desk. For now, there was no need for masks. Only the brush of feathers, the hush of thoughts, and a genius who—just this once—allowed himself to be wrapped in something far less logical, and far more human.

The lab smelled faintly of incense, ink, and ozone—the remnants of a recent experiment Anaxa had abandoned when he heard your wings.

You always approached with the breeze; even when silent, your presence filled the room like spring sunlight on ruined marble.

He looked up from a scroll of cursed diagrams, his eyes flashing under lamplight. “Back already? I thought the sky was calling to you.”

You stepped in, smiling as your wings folded slightly inward. “It was. But it’s warmer here.”

He quirked a brow, brushing a loose strand of hair from his face. “With me? That’s a curious notion. Most would say I burn too close to madness for comfort.”

You laughed, already making your way to him. “You burn, yes. But you also glow. And I like the fire.”

He tried to hide his expression, but his shoulders slackened. You reached out, wrapping your wings around him with all the grace of twilight mist. He didn’t resist—he never did when it was you.

He leaned into the embrace, and for a moment, his usual biting sarcasm slipped away like shed skin.

“You shouldn’t do this,” he whispered. “Not to me. I’m... I’m dangerous to believe in.”

You pulled him closer, the warmth of your feathers pressing to his back, your voice gentle against the shell of his ear. “And I’m stubborn when it comes to lost causes.”

He let out a shaky chuckle, burying his face in your feathers now, as if they could shield him from the ghosts of failed experiments and dying stars. “You’re an idiot,” he muttered.

“I’m your idiot,” you replied.

He turned in your arms, his hand brushing along your wing with the tenderness of someone who’d known too much loss. “Then don’t fly away.”

You smiled, touching his eyepatch gently. “Only if you promise not to burn alone.”

In the glow of flickering candles and the rustle of feathers, Anaxagoras—the Great Heretic, the Mad Scholar, the Foolish—let himself believe. Just for a moment. Just for you.

[erikawrites13]

Crash and Burn - CL 16 ☆.

For the spicy one, 1, 7, 10, with CL16 pleaseeee. Also a happy ending if not it's ok thank you! For @skylyn-vais in the coments! ☆1. Enemies with Benefits, ☆7. Rough Sex ☆10. Aftermath of a Fight – angry → spicy make-up

Charles Leclerc x Y/n Post-race, his apartment — late night. Enemies with Benefits · Aftermath of a Fight · Rough, NSFW-themed Make-up Word Count: ~3,000 Warning: NSFW- (rough, emotionally intense, consensual dominant/submissive energy), cursing, possessiveness, jealousy.

You’re still wearing your team jacket when you slam the door behind you.

The sound echoes through Charles’s Monaco apartment, but you don’t care. You don’t care about anything except the fire still burning in your chest rage, adrenaline, humiliation.

He’s already inside. You hear the ice clink into a glass. You don’t even need to look to know he’s calm. Smug. As always.

“You seriously think that was okay?” you hiss.

He doesn’t look at you. Just takes a slow sip of his drink and leans against the kitchen counter, dark curls still messy from his helmet, fireproofs unzipped halfway, collarbone damp with sweat.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says, voice smooth, maddening.

“You boxed me in. Lap 43.”

“I defended my position.”

“You cut across me twice and nearly sent me into the wall.”

He shrugs. “You’re still standing.”

“God, you are such a-”

“A what?” He sets his drink down and finally turns to face you. “A competitor? A driver who doesn't hand out positions just because it’s you?”

“You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“So did you,” he fires back. “That divebomb in Turn 9? Amateur hour.”

Your eyes flash. “I was ahead!”

“And yet, here we are,” he says, stepping closer now. “You, screaming in my apartment, because you didn’t like how the golden girl finally got knocked back.”

You shove his shoulder. Hard. “You’re such an arrogant”

Before you can finish, he grabs your wrist. Not roughly. Just firmly enough to make you pause.

“Careful,” he murmurs. “You’re turning me on.”

You pull your arm back, breathing hard.

“This isn’t a game.”

He steps into your space. “Isn’t it?”

And just like that the line snaps.

You shove him again, and this time he catches your wrist and your waist, spinning you toward the wall with a thud. Not rough. Just fast. Controlled. Familiar.

Because this isn’t new.

This heat. This chaos.

You’ve hated Charles since your F2 days the cocky smirk, the smug interviews, the way he always acts like he knows better. You hated him right up until the night you kissed him in a dark hallway in Budapest. And then let him fuck you in the back of your rental car.

Since then, it’s been nothing but late-night arguments, bruised egos, and tangled sheets.

Enemies. With benefits.

And tonight? The “enemy” part is still very much alive.

You push against him, furious. “Let me go.”

His hand slides to your throat — not squeezing, just holding. Guiding. His mouth brushes your jaw, breath hot.

“You’re mad because I beat you.”

“I’m mad because you used me.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, voice like honey and venom, “we’ve been using each other.”

His lips crash into yours furious, biting. You kiss him back with teeth. It’s not sweet. It never is. It’s war.

Your back hits the wall again as he presses into you fully, thigh between your legs, hands gripping your ass like he’s claiming it. You moan, just once and he grins against your mouth.

“There she is,” he growls. “Always so fucking loud when you’re losing.”

You grab a fistful of his fireproofs and yank them halfway off his hips.

“You’re the one who begged last time,” you spit, dragging your nails down his stomach. “Don’t start lying now.”

He laughs dark and low.

Then he spins you toward the hallway. “Bedroom. Now.”

You hesitate.

He steps closer, hand slipping down your front, over your waistband, voice silk. “Unless you’d rather I bend you over the kitchen counter.”

You don’t answer. You just walk.

He follows, steps sharp and silent.

The second the bedroom door shuts, it’s chaos.

Your clothes hit the floor in fast, angry motions tugged, shoved, discarded. He pushes you onto the bed and pulls your legs apart with no hesitation. He’s dominant. Focused. But not cruel. Every movement asks a question. Every breath is permission.

You give it.

You always give it.

Because the fire that burns in Charles is the same one that lives in you hot, reckless, consuming. And when you meet in the dark like this, it’s not love. It’s survival.

And tonight, you don’t want soft.

You want war.

His body moves like poetry and violence gripping your hips, pulling your hair, kissing you like he hates you and needs you in the same breath.

You claw at his back, leaving marks you know he’ll feel tomorrow. He bites down on your shoulder, gasping your name like it’s a sin.

“Mine,” he mutters, lips against your neck.

“Never,” you whisper.

But you’re already breaking.

And he knows it.

THE END

If you want to be on it just write a coment Or if you want to be removed- @dessashippr @mrvlf1 @oscarpastri @mimisweetz @fangirlmusicbiashoe

[cautious-soup]

Fluffybolts: Or the Fic where they get turned into animals*

Yes I wrote this. It took like 2 weeks and more drafts than I care to admit. Only Yelena, Ava, Bob and John are transformed, needed a human interaction dynamic so the others stay the same. Nothing really happens except for them all being animals and Bucky being really, really tired. He's so tired. Pray for him. Also Alexei is in supreme dad mode.

Enjoy!

It's uncanny, to say the least.

There's nothing particularly odd about a rooster, a guinea pig, a cat, and a dog in a room together. But when those animals all have the unmistakable gleam of human sapience behind their eyes, it's…disquieting.

"You said the rooster was John?" Val asks, pressing two fingers against her temple.

Bucky shakes his head, "No, no that's Bob. The shepherd is John."

He nods to the German shepherd padding across the infirmary to the bed Alexei is in. He places his paws up on it, nosing at his boot. Alexei, cradling a blonde guinea pig in his arms, sits up to acknowledge him.

"Well, I have to say the kid had a good sense for their character," Val snorts. Bucky shoots her a look, and she rolls her eyes, "Please. This could be worse, I think. I don't really know or care about the intricacies of the freak shows you all deal with on a daily basis."

She flinches, then frowns down at the fluffy gray cat walking through her legs. Literally through them, passing through her shins.

"This one's Ava then, cute. I should get a cat." Val ponders.

Mel perks up at that, and looks down at her iPad, probably to jot the comment down in her notes app.

It all happened so fast. Bucky had watched it all unfold from behind the signing table. He didn't even know why he was there— given that even 10 year olds knew that he was the guy who killed JFK, among other things. It wasn't a mission, or a press conference. Instead, it was a meet and greet with their younger fans to salvage their ever-in-a-dumpster-fire PR. Given that they all look like the old Avengers got back from a Deftones concert, fans under 13 years old were lacking. The largest demographic in their base is edgy teenagers, so Val suggested (ordered) the meet and greet to give them more kid friendly publicity.

The kid, Grace, came up the line about half-way through the event, clutching a black rabbit for some reason. She'd grinned up at Yelena, teeth clad in braces, hair done up in afro-puffs with New Avengers themed hairpins. Most of their merch came in the form of those products you see hanging off of plastic mesh in the middle of grocery store aisles—plastic bowls, plastic cups, plastic orange mini-figures…a lot of plastic.

"Hello," Yelena had said, smiling and crouching down to be at eye-level. She'd looked over the kid's shoulder, then back at her, "Where are your parents?"

Grace grinned, "My daddy's right here," she held up the rabbit. It looked at her with a strangely human 'it is what it is' expression. It didn't seem alarmed, and the girl didn't seem alarmed, so Yelena just went about business as usual. She'd take a few pictures with the kid, then direct her to security to help her find her parents.

But then Bob walked over and, seeing the rabbit, stopped what he was doing to walk over and pet it. John, who was letting a kid hold his shield, glanced over at them too.

"Is that a rabbit?" Ava asked, coming back from finishing a selfie with an elated pre-teen girl. Grace nodded, "Mhm, it's my daddy,"

Ava glanced at Yelena, who'd shrugged, "We take pictures then take her to security, hm?"

So, since they all had a moment (the fans only came in groups of two or three, it wasn't that busy), they all decided to take a picture with Grace, who seemed ready to burst with excitement.

And she did.

Well, maybe she didn't burst, but there was a burst—a sudden explosion of pink smoke. Alexei, who'd been taking a well timed smoke break, came back to find Grace, a naked and bewildered man who started apologizing to Bucky on her behalf, and four animals sitting in empty piles of clothes and armor. They didn't have time to figure out who'd seen what, and rushed the four transformed teammates back to the Watchtower.

Turns out, the rabbit actually was her dad.

Now, Bucky tenses a bit as Ava walks through his shins to the bed next to Alexei's where Bob sits. "Banner should be here in a few hours," he said.

"PuKAWK," Bob sqwacks, flapping his wings. Ava jumps up onto the bed and sniffs at him. There’s a lot of sniffing going on.

"Is there any way we can figure out what they're trying to say?" Mel asks, scratching behind John's ear. Bucky shrugs, walking over to the bed and sitting down. He holds out a hand, and Bob pecks at it in a pattern.

"'SOS' is the only morse code you know, isn't it," Bucky asks flatly. Bob stops pecking and bobs his head in a nod.

Bucky purses his lips, "Right," before standing, "Mel can they use your iTablet?"

"iPad, and yeah." she says, swiping on it before setting it on the floor. Ava and John were at it first, with Ava bunting John's snout out of the way before carefully pressing her right paw on the keyboard.

fbix soom,?

"We dunno how long it's gonna take to fix this. Grace won't talk." Bucky says.

"Oh, she's been talking," Val says, "But since she's six the only thing she wants to talk about is slime videos and LOL Surprise dolls,"

"We know she meant no harm at least," Alexei says, stroking Yelena's golden fur, "Just very excited to meet my strong and smart children. Is understandable,"

"Well, this is a great opportunity to capitalize on the whole 'unregistered enhanced persons' topic now isn't it?" Val says, turning to Mel, "Draft up some tweets about that for me will you? Skirt on the line between concerned and inflammatory," she said, striding out of the infirmary.

"Uh, technically they're 'xeets' now Val," Mel says, hurrying after her.

Ava was still pressing her paw insistently against the iPad.

humgy

"Right," Bucky says, scratching the back of his neck, "I guess we'll get you guys fed then,"

🐹🐔🐶🐱

Ava's floor had the most cushions, so they found themselves there. The four transformed teammates stared at their reflections in the window, turning and sniffing and pecking, while Bucky and Alexei tried to figure out what they could eat.

"Uh, ok…so veggies for Yelena and Bob…" Bucky murmured, holding his phone far from his face and tapping at it with his index finger.

The elevator dinged, and Alexei emerged with a bulky paper bag in his arms. "Ava, I have your food here," he grinned proudly, "I knew stocking on canned food would come in handy someday,"

Ava turned, trotting away from the others and over to Alexei, with her tail raised in a dignified manner.

"Mraa," she said, pressing a paw into his foot.

"Ah, where do you keep the can opener?" Alexei asked. Ava trilled, and went over to the kitchen, hopping onto the counter.

"Ah—ok yeah sure just…walk over that," Bucky said, sweeping the vegetables Ava had kicked aside back onto the parchment paper he laid out. Ava stopped at the end of the counter, her gray tail sweeping about the surface. Yelena, John and Bob were still by the window, now examining each other rather than themselves, climbing over each other, sticking out black noses and beaks. Bob pecked 'SOS' into John's forehead, until John nudged him away with his snout.

They all gathered in the seating area in the end, all of the animals sat on the floor or table, while Bucky and Alexei sat on the couch. Parchment paper with roughly chopped leafy vegetables was in the coffee table for Yelena and Bob, who chewed and pecked at them contentedly.

"We'll talk to Grace tomorrow, Banner's still gonna be a bit," Bucky said, watching John gnaw on a steak. Ava had yowled in protest when they'd taken it out of the fridge, but they didn't have anything else for him at the moment. That, and she seemed preoccupied with her tuna anyway.

"Ah, em," Alexei looked like he had a sudden thought, and turned to Bucky, "They eat now but…when the food runs its course…"

Bucky blinked, then frowned, "That's true—" he turned to his phone, "I'm gonna have some stuff delivered."

"They still have human minds, yes? Perhaps they can figure out how to use the toilet," Alexei said. Yelena squeaked in distress, stopping her eating and running around in circles on the table.

"…mostly…I suppose they still are animals," Alexei said.

After they were done eating, the Furrybolts (lovingly named by Alexei) all curled up with John on one large cushion, nestled into his side. Bucky couldn't help the smile that spread across his face, and found himself kneeling to run his hands over their heads and along their sides as they drifted off.

"Seems you guys have an easier time sleeping like this," Bucky said, smoothing a hand over Bob's feathers.

"Pok pok pok pok pok," he clucked. Bucky huffed a laugh, standing up and heading over to his recliner.

"Guess we'll doze here till Banner shows up," Bucky yawned, folding his hands on his stomach.

🐹🐔🐶🐱

Bucky thought Bruce would've been right at home in the Watchtower's lab, and he almost was. But he moved about the equipment with more caution than was necessary, even for a green giant like himself.

"You solid Banner?" Bucky asked, watching as Bruce stuck an electrode onto a very vocal Ava's furry forehead. She phased, the electrode fell through her to the ground, and she trotted off to the other side of the lab. Bob was there too—though he'd spent the better part of the last hour pecking at the ground in no particular pattern. Meanwhile, Yelena was playing with Wiggles, the actual guinea pig, and John was sitting obediently by the holotable, tail wagging, and electrodes stuck across his fur.

"Uh, yeah just…" he looked around the lab and grimaced, "Last time I was here I was creating a sentient AI to stop another sentient AI I created from destroying the world,"

Bucky nodded, remembering where he'd been at the time, nose basically pressed against the old tube TV in his apartment, static fuzz tickling his skin as he watched the live footage of Steve and the other Avengers.

"A different era, really," he sighed, crouching to pet Ava, who'd wandered back over to him. She bunted her head into his hand, then through it to crawl up his arm.

"So, you confirmed that they're still…them on the inside?" Bucky asked, letting Ava crawl over his shoulders.

"Yeah, for the most part. Though, replace the relatively few human primitive instincts with the myriad of animal instincts they have now. Their sapience is still there but it's uh…" he chuckled, "I don't wanna say outmatched, but,"

Bucky glanced over at Yelena, who'd taken to gnawing at a piece of loose wire. He grabbed her and moved her back next to Wiggles.

"Maybe a little outmatched," Bucky said.

"Subdued," Bruce said, nodding at the word he'd settled on. It was accurate enough. They could all answer complex questions with simple yes or no confirmations, type out their names on a keyboard and whatnot.

Ava jumped off Bucky's shoulder, running over to John. John, who's head had been in his paws, glanced up at her and blinked. Ava's ears swiveled like little satellites, and she sniffed at John's snout, before walking partially through him to climb onto his side and loaf there. John rolled over, making Ava fall off, and the electrodes snap off of his fur. Ava batted his paws out of the way of his stomach before assuming the same position there.

"MraaAAAOW," she yowled whenever John tried moving her. John looked at Bucky in distress.

Bucky ignored him and asked Bruce, "So, are they stuck like this or what?"

"Um," Bruce walked over to the holopad where Ava and John were laying, and brought up a hologram of John—dog John anyway. A small 'diagnostic complete' notification blinked on the interface.

"Thanks for cooperating, Walker," Bruce said, grinning down at John, whose tail started to wag.

"Ok," he spun the hologram with a large green hand, before stopping it and poking his head through, examining what looked like the nervous system, "Yeah it doesn't look permanent,"

Bucky puffed out a relieved breath, and the others perked up at the news too.

"That's great!"

Bucky's relief vanished quickly, though, at the sound of Val's voice from the lab entrance.

She and Mel stepped inside. Mel immediately rushed towards Yelena and Wiggles. Yelena regarded her with a squeak, then let out a higher pitched sound as Mel picked her up, face beaming.

"What do you want now, Val?" Bucky asked dryly, watching her walk over to Bob, who squawked and ran over to John and Ava, away from her. Val's face turned up in a small sneer, before righting itself into a neutral expression.

"Well, the meet and greet was a disaster. At least, that's what I thought, until I realized something while listening to Gracie prattle on and on about god knows what," she watched Mel and Yelena for a moment, "If there's something people like more than the Avengers, the actual Avengers not us, it's this,"

Bucky and Burce blinked at her, so she rolled her eyes, and gestured broadly with flourish, "This—animals, cute ones at that. Thank God none of them turned into an iguana or something, eugh,"

"What are you getting at?" Bucky asked.

Val looked at him and shook her head, "Oh Barnes, ever the slow one," making Bucky roll his eyes as she continued, "It means we have another, better, shot at this. Mel?"

Mel set Yelena down, before brandishing her iPad and holding it out to Bucky. Bucky took it, frowning down at the half-finished poster.

FURRYBOLTS: SEE THEM LIVE IN WATCH TOWER LOBBY @ ——

"Christ," Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, and Mel grimaced before saying, "It…it honestly could be worse, right?"

"You're damn right it could be," Val said, leveling Bucky with a challenging look, "You know as much as I do just how much good publicity—image—matters, congressman,"

Bucky's lip turned up in distaste, and Bruce looked between the two of them, visibly uncomfortable. Behind him, Yelena joined Ava and Bob on John's tummy, slotting herself between them. Ava sniffed at her, then started running her tongue over her head to groom her.

"That there, Barnes," Val pointed at them, "That right there is exactly what we need, served on a silver platter,"

Bucky looked back over at her, "Sounds to me like you oughta be thanking Grace rather than making her the poster child of 'unregistered enhanced persons'," he said.

Val shrugged, "I could, but people love outrage just as much if not more than animals, so," she turned and began walking towards the exit, "But anyway, they're gonna be on Kimmel tomorrow night, have them ready by then,"

The four animals froze at that, glancing at each other, before bolting up and running about the room, barking and meowing and squeaking and squawking.

"…they all despise talk shows," Bucky sighed.

"Well, the public despises them more, so," She motioned for Mel to come on, then walked out of the lab, leaving Bucky and his teammates more than a little peeved.

"The public doesn't despise you, guys," Bucky said in an attempt to calm them down. Bruce made a face, waggling his hand, but stopped when Bucky shot him a glare and said, "Yeah—they see you guys as uh…lovable misfits,"

"Yep," Bucky said, "Way better,"

🐹🐔🐶🐱

After careful deliberation from Bob and Mel, the name on the event poster was named to Fluffybolts—given that 'furry' had a different connotation. Even Bucky was aware. Alexei wasn't, though, and was saddened to find his new name replaced.

But his elation came back tenfold when he was tasked with helping them all get ready for the talk show.

"I know is strange Lena, but please put on tiny outfit. It will look cute, I promise," he said, carefully stepping toward Yelena, who was doing her best to give off a threat display. But she was still a guinea pig, so she kind of just looked like an angry potato.

"Yeah, no way she's putting this on," Mel sighed in defeat as Ava slipped out of her own outfit for the dozenth time. At least John was cooperating, seeming to be very happy with his U.S. Agent dog outfit, padding around the dressing room and looking expectantly up at the others.

Bob, content now that he'd figured out how to read, was wrapped in a blanket on one of the vanities, using his beak to turn the pages. Since he technically wasn't a Thunderbolt, he didn't need a costume, but he was still a fan favorite—so his attendance was mandatory.

"Can't believe Val is putting them on like show ponies," Bucky muttered. They had leverage on Val, yes, but it really only applied in certain situations, life-altering ones. It wasn't something to be used flippantly. She knew this, and definitely got a kick out of it.

"It isn't so bad," Alexei said, finally managing to put the tiny uniform on Yelena, who started chewing at the fabric immediately. Alexei, who was cradling her, smiled down at her, "Is like she is small again. Needing to be taken care of and all," he sighed, "Didn't realize how much I liked it till it was…gone,"

Yelena wriggled out of her spot in Alexei's arms, climbing up to his shoulder and nosing his ear.

"Ava—oh my god—ok, um, if you put it on I'll buy you treats yeah? Bet you haven't had cat treats yet," Mel said, locked in intense negotiation with an indifferent and aloof gray cat.

A few minutes later, some haggard looking intern poked their head through the door, "Hey—wow they really are animals, uh manager says you guys are on in 10," he said. Yelena did anxious circles on Alexei's shoulder, and Bob nestled himself further back into the blanket if that were possible.

"You say you want 'public facing' role but don't want to do talk show?" Alexei chuckled, scratching at Yelena's back with his finger.

Ava pressed a paw against Bucky's foot, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "Don't worry," Bucky sighed, picking her up, "It'll be over before we know it, we got this,"

🐹🐔🐶🐱

lili @lilikayz

i've only known the fluffybolts for 10 minutes but if anything happened to them I would kill everyone on this platform and then myself [gif]

Buddy Eric @ebot

is nobody disgusted with how v*lent*na is trying to spin the narrative against UEPs???? like????? [quote tweet]

BOB FAN @BOBNO1FAN

LOOK AT HIM LOOK AT HIM LOOK AT HIM OH MY FUCKING GOD [clip]

nora ♣︎ b-vengers era @nora39203

How are people saying this is fake like half of yall mfs werent literally turned to dust 7 years ago?

semi-gross person @w3aving

Bucky doing nothing but serving face ikdr he can assassinate me too

🐹🐔🐶🐱

Valentina was almost charitable when she was in a good mood, almost.

It was a 15 minute segment, which felt like an eternity (especially for their furry friends, thanks to their altered sense of time)

They weren't exactly well-behaved—but that ended up being to their benefit, as the host and other guests seemed delighted with watching the costumed animals wander around the stage. It got a touch chaotic when Ava disappeared into the audience, re-emerging from through the host's desk, but other than that, things went off without a hitch.

Valentina was pleased with how well the talk show had gone, but less pleased by her misreading the current climate, and the backlash to her tweets about UEPs. But, it was fine. In action typical for a dubious public figure, all proceeds from the meet and greet were going towards various animal sanctuaries and whatnot.

In addition to that, Grace was invited to the Watchtower a few hours before the main event, and spent most of her time petting and talking to the Fluffybolts. Unlike the others, she could understand everything they were saying, and was able to verify (after lots of meandering conversation about things like whether or not a cat and dog could make a catdog) that yes, the transformation is temporary, and only lasts for a week.

"They're gonna look silly for a bit though," she'd said, right before she left with her parents.

"Well, I guess we'll find out what that means here soon," Bucky said, squeezing his eyes shut.

They were expecting increased attendance for the second meet and greet, but not anything insane.

But then the crowd outside of the lobby started forming, a dense line of people peering through the windows, pointing, laughing, cooing and taking pictures.

Yelena already seemed to be soaking in the attention. Her, Bob and Wiggles were in one section, while John and Ava were in another. Colorful cushions, toys were strewn across a multi-colored rug, complete with a balloon arch at the entrance.

It was all a little stupid, but Val had a point. People latched onto anything and. Even though relevance seemed to come and go in an instant on the surface, the public had a good memory in some cases. All they could do was hope this was one of them.

As people began pouring inside the lobby, Bucky braced himself for a long afternoon.

Alexei greeted the public with (literal) open arms, bragging about all of the Fluffybolts before anyone even had a chance to see them up close.

"She is agile for guinea pig no? See, look at her roll around—Wiggles cannot do that…oh nevermind, looks like she can,"

Bob ended up getting more attention than he probably wanted, and Bucky could see Yelena inching towards the crowd gathering around him, nose sniffing in worry. But there wasn't a black feather to be seen, he seemed to be taking it in stride. That, or he was just really into being a chicken. It was probably both.

John and Ava also got a good amount of attention, given that they were common housepets that most people were familiar with. Ava didn't let anybody pet her, but John did, the thumping of his tail against the rug audible even through all of the noise.

Things were going well, too well.

A man with a B-Vengers hoodie bent over to pet Bob, but stumbled back when a puff of pink smoke exploded in his face. Then, in sequence, the other three also exploded into pink clouds.

Bucky was frozen for a while, before springing into action and directing people to leave. Most people bolted at the sight or sound of the explosions, but a few nosy folks remained.

"Oh my god whyyyyy," Yelena cried, kneeled on the ground naked, hands folded over his chest. Alexei rushed over to her, draping her in his tacky suit jacket, before joining Bucky in escorting the guests out.

"This is the greatest day of my life," The man in the hoodie said, looking a disoriented Bob up and down, before being yanked back by Bucky and shoved back through the balloon arch.

Val was frozen in shock, or horror, it was probably both.

Ava had her face in her hands, crouched behind John who was holding his shield over his crotch.

"That little brat said a week, did she not? Didn't she say a week?" Val asked, looking at Mel, who nodded frantically. Val let a string of quiet expletives fall from her lips before composing herself.

Mel squinted at the other four. It was hard to see through the pink haze, but Yelena's head looked weird. Then, she made a noise in the back of her throat, before bursting into laughter.

"What? Is this funny to you?" Val hissed. Mel shook her head, still unable to speak, and pointed at the others.

On Yelena's head, there were ears. Guinea pig ears.

Bucky ran a hand down his face, and Val went, "Huh,"

"So that's what she meant," Bucky finished the thought, shedding his jacket and tossing it to John, who handed it to Ava. Both of them were sporting their own pair of ears and tails.

"That child is an agent of chaos," John said, squeezing his eyes shut, seemingly trying to will the situation away.

"This is a nightmare, heh," Bob laughed, looking at the others. A haunted expression crossed his face, and he grabbed at his head before sighing in relief.

"Oh, thank God," he sighed, "Thought I had that rooster thing on my head,"

Bucky cleared his throat, "Yeah, no you don't but—" he gestured at Bob's back, "You do have something else,"

Bob tilted his head at Bucky, reaching back, and flinching as his fingers brushed over comically tiny wings protruding from his scapula.

"Ah man," Bob said, "This is so lame,"

Yelena nodded, pinching the bridge of her nose, "That's definitely one way to put it,"

🐹🐔🐶🐱

BOB FAN @BOBNO1FAN

I SAW IT I SAW IT OH MY GOD

[this tweet has been deleted]

Buckdeeznuts @rollerdude4

This mf Bucky looks so done bruh oml 💀 [image]

Lot's of "love" @amandamain

Is it a law of nature for every Captain America to be caked up? [image]

B-Vengers Snark @bvsnark21

never seen a group take more Ls in my life bruh

🐹🐔🐶🐱

"This whole situation reminds me of something that happened to my buddy Eric," Bob mused, feet propped on the coffee table.

"Your Florida friends have more mythical status than Thor at this point," Ava sighed, dull eyes still trained on her milkshake. She still had cat taste buds, and thus couldn't taste it.

"We're not gonna like…go into heat or anything right?" John asked, raising a leg before thinking better, and using his hand to scratch the back of his neck.

"Probably not," Yelena said.

John gave her a look, "See, you say that like you aren't gnawing on a teething ring right now,"

Yelena shrugged, "It should be completely worn off before anything like that happens,"

"S'really weird that you kept that," Bucky said to Alexei at the kitchen table, looking pointedly at the teething ring. Alexei laughed, "Ahaha, it would've been weird if I didn't keep it,"

"Kay," Bucky said, nodding like that would make things make more sense.

"So, when she said it would last a week, she didn't mean we'd be fully transformed the whole time then," Ava said. Yelena hummed in agreement.

"I don't wanna see a single picture of my ass in the group chat by the way," John said, frowning down at his phone, dog ears flat against his head.

"Not your ass," Yelena said, "It's America's ass,"

Bob and Ava laughed, and John told her to 'fuck off', thumbs flying across his keypad as he sent an email to Twitter HQ.

"Well, at least now we know that no matter what we do—" Bob started.

"People will clown on us," Yelena finished, "I honestly don't know why Val bothers,"

"She seemed a little edgy towards the end there," Ava snorted, leaning back on her palms, "Think she had a heart-attack?"

"Nah," John sighed, "She's got rich person medical care. The witch will live,"

"Good point," Ava muttered, cat ears twitching in annoyance. She grimaced and scratched at them.

"We need a vacation," Yelena said around the teething ring in her mouth, "We don't get paid enough for this,"

"Seriously, that whole oreal was freaky," John said, setting his phone down, "There's still instincts rattling around in here too—it's weird and gross,"

"Tell me about it—I don't think I'm gonna be able to eat chicken for a while," Bob put his head in his hands.

"Oof, yep, I'm gonna have to hold off on the guinea pig myself,"

"Wiggles lives another day," John says, "I have the most insane headache right now,"

"Me too—we probably should've ordered something besides chili dogs," Ava said.

"Yeah well, god knows Bucky could use the pick-me-up," John responded.

They all looked at Bucky, who scooped a forkful of chili-fries into his mouth, eyes distant.

"Sorry you saw all of us naked, Bucky," Yelena said.

Bucky shrugged, and said, "Trust me, I've seen way, way worse,"

And he had, but man if he wasn't tired of this shit.

🐹🐔🐶🐱

Well, that's it. Again, nothing really happens, I just wanted to write this scenario. Sorry if the talk show segment was inacurate I hate them so I don't watch any of them.

Btw this goes without saying, but Bucky would be a white wolf, and Alexei would be a bear. Curious to see if anyone has any ideas for what Mel and Valentina would be turned into.

Thanks for reading!

[audliminal]

Survivability Bias Pt 3

Masterpost - Ao3

Content warning: This chapter involves depiction of a train derailment and subsequent fire throughout. There is also brief mention of death. I will be putting a brief summary in the description if you prefer not to read this part.

Danny jolts up from his fitful sleep. He’s intangible and invisible before he’s even fully sitting up and he’s in the air before he registers the loud boom that woke him. Any concerns about his bright transformation are made totally irrelevant by the warning sirens blaring in his head.

Wait, no. Those are real sirens.

In the distance, lights are now accompanying the sirens; flashing as they speed down what looks like main street. It’s pretty clear where they’re going too, from the violent orange glow cascading over the tops of the nearby buildings.

I knew it, Danny thinks, flying towards whatever disaster is unfolding. probably it’s stupid to get involved, when he still knows so little about this place, but- well, old habits die hard. It doesn’t take long for the problem to become obvious, and Danny freezes as he struggles to process the scene before him.

The metal carnage is nothing like Danny’s ever seen before; what looks to be a freight train has derailed at the worst possible location, sending its cars careening into the various apartment buildings and stores on the east side of town, and to make matters worse, one of them has clearly crashed straight into the gas station by the freeway, and fire is spreading faster than Danny could have imagined.

Danny can already see two buildings blazing, but he quickly focuses his attention towards the carnage of the train itself. Luckily it’s fairly obvious what direction it was headed, and Danny moves fast, looking for the engine. In ghost form, physical sensations always feel a little more distant but even through that, Danny can feel his heart rabbiting in his chest. Luckily it takes less than a minute to find the engine, but as he approaches it, the presence of death catches in his throat, and he immediately knows it’s a lost cause.

He can’t sense any actual ghosts, though, so instead Danny whips around to stare at the derailed cars. He’s far more used to fighting than he is rescues, but he can hardly just ignore the possibility of people trapped, so he carefully begins phasing through the wreckage, searching and listening for signs of anyone. Already, people are starting to gather outside; both those who were nearby and those who have managed to escape on their own, and Danny is careful to maintain his invisibility as he works. 

Danny’s made it through about half the wreck by the time he spots the firetrucks arriving, he’s pretty certain that nobody’s trapped under any of the cars, and he’s also thinking more clearly. The fire has also gotten worse now, and Danny watches as fully equipped firefighters spill out onto the street, already jumping to work as the fire chief shouts out orders. Some rush to start battling the flames, but others head towards the crowd.

They’re getting headcounts, Danny realizes. It seems so obvious in retrospect, but of course, Danny would have to be visible to check with anyone. And now that they’re here, anything he tries to do in secret would probably just make things harder. There is, of course, an easy solution to that, but- Danny has yet to find any evidence that all the meta stuff is anything but propaganda.

Even as Danny considers the dilemma, he knows what he’s going to do. He’s survived danger before, after all, and if he can keep people from assuming ghost, then he’ll have an advantage on them even if it comes to the worst. Besides, there’s that whole great powers-great responsibility thing, so in a way, it’s kind of his responsibility...

Danny floats out of the wreckage before shifting into visibility, figuring it’s probably polite to approach in their field of sight.

“What can I do to help?” Danny asks, causing most of the crowd to stare in shock. Belatedly he realizes he’s still floating, but actually that’s probably a good thing. Makes it clear he’s a meta right off the bat, at least

“New hero, huh? Powerset?” The man responds promptly, leveling Danny with an even gaze. Probably the lack of shock is a good thing. Probably.

“Uh, flight obviously, enhanced strength as well, and um... The ability to turn people and things intangible?” Danny responds promptly. It’s far from his full set, but he figures those are the most relevant, and keeping most of his tricks under his sleeve makes him feel better about what he’s doing.

“Is the fire gonna hurt you? I’m not sending some kid in there to die of third degree burns or smoke inhalation.” The man frowns, giving Danny the distinct feeling he’s not particularly impressed with Danny’s answer.

“Oh! Yeah, no, I’ll be fine! I like, don’t exactly need to breathe? And I’m fine in extreme heat too, so it shouldn’t be a problem...” Danny trails off and the head firefighter narrows his eyes as he tries not to flinch at the assessing look. To Danny’s right, someone shouts and when he turns to look, he sees a firefighter wave their arm and plant some kind of flag before moving on. No longer paying attention to Danny, the chief walks over and speaks to another firefighter. Danny wonders if he’s been dismissed, but before he can do anything, the chief calls out to him.

“Alright kid, you’re up, I guess,” he says, when Danny walks over. “We don’t know how injured he is, so do not move him, but if you’re strong enough to move this stuff fast and safe, that’ll be a damn good help.” He gestures to the twisted mess that Danny’s pretty sure was the edge of a building. 

Danny nods, stepping forward to examine the rubble. The firefighter that spotted the man points to a couple beams.

“Those beams are protecting him from the worst of it right now, but we’ll need to move them in order to get him out, so you gotta make sure that there’s nothing that’ll fall on him him when you move them.” 

“Righty-o,” Danny says, stepping forward to grab the two support beams he’d pointed too. He carefully examines the rubble collapsed around and over it. It’s sort of like a puzzle, he realizes - not quite the same as fixing his parents tech; certainly nothing here is supposed to be smashed together like that, but-

Danny blinks and refocuses. If he  just moves a few things first, he thinks he can get enough cleared away and just intange the beams. He tries to be fast as he does, without forgetting the emphasis the chief had put on safety, and after a few moments, he’s ready to move the beams. He gets into a good position, and then carefully makes them intangible, ready to react if anything bad happens. When nothing does, he carefully pulls them up and away, watching as the waiting firefighters rush in and start to work on actually extracting the guy.

He watches for a bit as a backboard appears and they begin a very slow and careful process of getting the guy onto it.

“Kid,” the chief calls, pulling Danny’s attention away.The chief guides him towards one of the buildings that’s on fire. “Got two people trapped on the third floor here. The stairs are unsafe, so if you can, get yourself up there, locate them, and get them out.”

Danny nods, not waiting for further instruction. He flies up two floors, and goes straight through the wall with his intangibility. The majority of this building isn’t terribly damaged, but one side has collapsed in on itself so if that’s where the stairs were, he can understand the difficulty. The air inside is already thick with smoke, and he quickly stops breathing, belatedly remembering that he’s supposed to not get smoke inhalation. Luckily, it doesn’t take long to catch the sound of voices, and Danny follows it to a room where two people are huddled next to an open window. Right, that’s a smart way to limit the danger of the smoke.

“Rides here!” Danny announces cheerfully, dropping his intangibility. Both people startle as they spot him, but one recovers relatively quickly.

“Him first,” they say, nodding towards their companion, who definitely looks more dazed.

“Right, here we go!” Danny says, stepping forward, and scooping the person up, and wasting no time flying directly through the building, and down to the waiting paramedics. There’s no stretcher currently available, so Danny gently sets them on the ground away from the worst of the smoke, before flying back to get the other person. They’re already standing up, and waste no time in wrapping their arms around his neck as he picks them up and flies them out to the medics as well.

Danny hardly has time to set the person down, before the chief is pulling him away again. They send him in to save a couple other trapped people, but after that, it sounds like everybody is accounted for, because the chief starts focusing all their energy on putting out the fire, rather than just containing it.

Danny is surprised to find himself pulled into helping with this part too. He gets assigned to a fire attack team, and Danny trails along after the two firefighters as the enter the building and begin to fight the fire from the inside.Occasionally, one of them will point at some piece of wall or ceiling and ask him to check what’s on the other side. He goes where they say, looking for signs of the fire, and when he does spot flames, occasionally tearing stuff down so they can get to it with their fire hose. It’s honestly a fascinating process. Danny’s never been anywhere near a major fire and the fact that the firefighters actually do more damage to the building as they work echoes in Danny’s brain as a morbid refrain.

What they’re doing is clearly working though, because he can actually feel the ambient temperature going down as time goes on. He briefly wonders if he should be trying to use his ice powers when one of his teammates complains about how hot it is, but they have protection, and he doesn’t want to risk any more info on him getting out. And anyways, he’s busy enough just doing his job. By the time they leave the building, Danny is exhausted. The interrupted night’s sleep is making itself known, alongside the surprising realization that Danny has actually worked harder tonight than he ever has before.

He lets himself half-collapse against a wall beside one of the fire trucks, once they finish their work putting out the fire. Beside him, his teammates are divesting themselves of their gear. it’s funny, Danny was anxious about revealing himself at first, but this whole night - and Danny belatedly realizes the sun is beginning to drift above the horizon now - he’s not been scared at all. Sure he’s been worried; with people in danger he’s hardly going to feel good, but in the last few hours he’s both worked harder than he has in any of his fights, and he’s done it without feeling terrible. Now, with just everyone accounted for and just about all of them either fine or in the hands of doctors, he feels odd.

It’s not a bad feeling or anything, kind of like when he successfully beats a hard level in a video game, or how he used to feel when he finished science projects in middle school.

Satisfaction, he realizes. And that’s what it is, though it’s far stronger than any version of it that he’s ever felt before. He does have a lot to feel proud of too. He  helped, even though he wasn’t sure it was safe to, and he might’ve actually saved somebody’s life tonight.

“You did good, kid.” One of his teammates says, echoing Danny’s thoughts. He startles a bit, feels himself flushing, and then in his embarrassment, he feels himself tumble over into a full blush. It’s always felt more embarrassing blushing in his ghost form. The way his skin actually glows with the green tinge is just so obviously inhuman, and he tries to avoid, tries his best to seem normal and alive, even when he’s a ghost.

Of course, these people don’t know he’s a ghost, but from what he’s seen, most of the heroes out there at least look functionally human, and he waits for the firefighters around him to freak out at the reminder that he isn’t even remotely one of them.

“Damn,” one whistles. Green glow is a new one. Makes your freckles real cute though.” The others laugh, and the other of his teammates steps forward to pat him gently on the back.

“Stop embarrassing my new favorite hero,” the chief says, walking up to join them. “You gotta name?” 

“Oh, yeah!” Danny answers, desperate for a distraction from this line of conversation. “I’m Danny!”

“Danny,” the chief responds flatly. he almost sounds exasperated, though Danny can’t imagine why, unless...

Unless that absolutely sounds like he just introduced himself normal and they think he’s a hero and he sounds like a dumbass without a secret identity, which- technically isn’t exactly wrong. 

“Yup!” Danny says, trying to make it sound intentional. “Danny Phantom at your service! Y’know cause of the intangibility and like. It just sounded good?” There. That sounds plausible. If he actually does end up having to be a hero, though, he’ll probably need a different first name. If he gets a civilian identity, that is.

“Well, Phantom,” the chief grins, that same assessing look from before back, but noticeably more relaxed now that there’s no immediate danger. “We’re damn grateful for all your help, and if you need anything you come let us know, alright?”

“Yeah, one of his teammates echoes. “You’re an honorary firefighter now, you should come hang out at the station sometime!” A couple of the others echo the sentiment. It’s surprisingly kind, and Danny smiles at the unrelenting wave of welcome.

“I’ll think about it,” he offers uncertainly. “For now, I think I ought to go back to sleep for a few more hours.”

“That sounds like a good idea, Danny,” the chief says. “Just make sure to get something to eat first. You’ve burned a lot of calories today.”

“Yeah, will do,” Danny offers an awkward salute to the man, and then, before he can actually fall asleep standing up, he takes off to hunt down a good spot for a nap.

[imjustavenuxwithaboomerang]

happy national teachers' day to the only fictional teachers i seem to care about

[sapphossecondbestfriend]

had a really good conversation about batman that led into comparing him with iron man recently

and it really struck me how fundamentally they're such similar characters - both are billionaire orphans who use their tech to help fix a broken world - but the most significant difference is which side of their character is the "real" one

is it the rich playboy or the masked superhero? for iron man, tony stark is the real one, the suit is just something he puts on for convenience - everybody knows who's under the helmet and that's perfect for him because iron man is tony stark

but for batman? the masked superhero, the detective and the vigilante is his real self. bruce wayne is really just a mask he wears when it's useful, but really batman isn't bruce wayne. bruce wayne is *batman*

[gaylactic-fire]

I keep getting vaguely bummed out about TOTK which is so annoying bc I don't even dislike the game?? I'm genuinely having a blast with it. But also all the overarching but cohesive themes and meta storytelling about the reincarnation cycle and its consequences and the tragically beautiful world in BOTW?? Like what happened to all that?? That was what made me so mentally ill (/aff) in the first place!!

[imminent-danger-came]

I'll never get over the fact that MK trades his friends for power to save his friends. What's wrong with him

[moe-broey]

I def wanna color these when I have the energy BUT..... back on a Pokemon kick.... ever so slightly......... also second sketch is so rough SORRY (I DO WANNA CLEAN IT UP!!! But I was mostly focused on conceptualizing the outfits!!!!)

I have soooo many other sketches too but I wanna save em for later.... but let it be known, this is just an elaborate excuse to play dress-up. Esp for Moe I'm gonna be so real, it has SUCH A SILLY OUTFIT and it is SO. SOOOOOO jackass rival coded. Guy who is gonna pick fights and cause problems for NO reason. Or for gay reasons. Most likely gay reasons tbh

[windor-truffle]

Ok enough boring things like "work" or "sleep," time for a BerZesty AU 😤 I don't think I'll ever actually write it because it'd take a while but I'd love to hear others' thoughts on how you'd do one! Here's my VERY long take (outline) on it:

In this World of Graces But With BerZesty Mechanics, resonance is something highly sought after among nobility as it puts them "closer to the gods." Thus many marriages are arranged in order to produce heirs with high resonance, supposedly, but since resonance is becoming rarer and rarer (probably due to inbreeding affecting life span 😅) many nobles actually lie about their abilities.

Lord Aston of Lhant, who has little to no resonance but comes from a family that did, similarly sought out an heir with high resonance so he married Lady Kerri who possesses it. She is a widow of a previous marriage, with her own son Hubert having high resonance. But when Asbel, Aston's biological heir, is born with high resonance, Aston goes full villain mode (sorry I'm sabotaging his character 😅) and has Hubert killed in what appears to be an accident so there will be no dispute over who will inherit his title. Thus Asbel grows up with the seraph of his dead half-brother Hubert, who does know their relation but not the truth behind his death. Hubert is a water seraph (of course) and despite being older than Asbel, appears younger due to aging more slowly as a seraph.

Kid Asbel is also friends with Cheria, a friendly fire seraph kid who reincarnated after her tragic demise from illness, but otherwise Asbel's social life is quite limited and sheltered, protected fiercely by his father who sees Asbel as a chance to develop ties with the royal family. Eventually Aston gets his wish and Prince Richard is sent to Lhant for a visit. Asbel and Richard immediately hit it off as they both aspire to be Shepherds, figures of legend who brought peace and purity to the world by forming pacts with the Empyreans themselves. Asbel swears to be Richard's squire someday, and together they'll travel the world and purify it.

During Richard's visit the kids also meet and befriend Sophie, an orphan of Lhant with surprisingly high resonance. They protect her from hellions, since hellions tend to target those that can perceive them, and bring her with them to Barona when Richard's stay is over. Once there, Richard invites them all to help him investigate a shrine he has uncovered beneath the castle to an unknown Empyrean (very Innominat-like 😅).

Unfortunately they discover too late that the summoning ritual they're attempting requires a human sacrifice, and as they are attempting to abort, a "monster" shows up and kills Sophie. The gruesome event causes a falling out between the royal family and Lhant, and Asbel and Richard are no longer permitted to see each other.

7 years later, armies of hellions begin to invade Lhant and Aston dies in battle. Asbel is sent to Barona to petition the king for help, as there are far more people there with the resonance needed to combat the hellions, but then Asbel learns that Archduke Cedric has killed the king and is leading a coup with said armies of hellions. He himself is a hellion of Lord of Calamity status that had secretly lived among the royal family, though Richard always knew and thus was targeted frequently.

The capital seems to be overrun with malevolence so Asbel and his two seraph friends take cover in the sanctuary where they find Richard currently fleeing for his life. When they venture further down the same path they followed as kids that led them to the abandoned shrine, they're surprised to hear the voice of an Empyrean asking if they will aid him in purifying this world as a Shepherd. Richard agrees, Asbel swearing to be his squire, and Richard becomes the vessel to the forgotten Empyrean Lambda. As they complete the ritual, the spirit of their old friend reincarnates before their eyes as the void seraph Sophie, though she has no recollection of her former life.

With their powers greatly improved by the blessing of an Empyrean and an additional seraph on their side, Richard and Asbel vow to take down the Lord of Calamity reigning over Windor, Asbel hoping to purify him, while Richard is more prepared to do what's necessary. They encounter Malik, an earth seraph who challenges them to test both his own strength and the strength of their wills as a new Shepherd and squire. He is fine with killing hellions, mainly because he knows someday he'll have to return to his homeland and kill his friend Kurt who became a dragon (very Zaveid coded), but the pair (mainly Asbel) promise they will try to purify him, and Malik tags along to see if they're up for it or not (very Edna coded).

They succeed in taking down the Lord of Calamity Cedric thanks to Lambda's power. With peace in Windor restored, Richard the Shepherd-King and his squire Asbel set off to awaken and receive the blessings of the four Empyreans throughout the land, starting with Gloandi here in Windor. However, the ritual seems to be less of awakening and embracing their powers as it is Richard and Lambda subjugating and devouring them, much to Asbel and the other's disturbance. His seraph friends are beginning to feel some malevolence from the pair, but Asbel's pure belief in Richard keeps them from feeling its effects.

They travel next to Strahta, who initially refuse to recognize Richard as a Shepherd, believing this to be a political takeover. They prove Richard's validity by taking down an enormous hellion that had been terrorizing Yu Liberte, though Asbel and the citizens are dismayed that they couldn't purify it as it used to be a beloved gentle mascot (RIP Rockgagong). As a reward for their success, Richard is granted access to the shrine of the water Empyrean, Duplemar.

But the same process happens again of Lambda devouring its power, and this time the boosted force of his will enables him to suppress that of seraphim across the entire world, including all of Asbel's friends except Sophie. Richard reveals that his and Lambda's plan for peace actually involves exterminating humanity, the source of the malevolence, and will do so by using seraphim as tools. Asbel can no longer deny what they've become: a fallen Shepherd led by a fallen Empyrean, able to command both seraphim and hellions alike. Heartbroken, Asbel is forced to break his pact as Richard's squire before Richard's overflowing malevolence can corrupt both him and his enslaved friends. Richard is furious at his betrayal but despite having Asbel at his mercy does not kill him, and Asbel runs away, bitterly hoping he can save both his suppressed friends and his fallen one somehow.

Asbel is at a loss on how to help his friends until he encounters the wind seraph Pascal, who besides Sophie is the only unaffected seraph (because no one can hope to control her lol). Her tribe has knowledge of a sacred land in the heavens far beyond, where the Empyrean of Void, Fodra, ascended to long ago. She and Fourier are able to take Asbel and his friends there, and since Fodra's domain is far apart from Lambda's, his friends have free will for as long as they remain there.

In order to make a pact with Fodra that could free the seraphim, Asbel has to clear 4 elemental trials, and each one forces the corresponding seraph to come to terms with their past (Hubert's cruel murder, Cheria's unfair demise, Malik's bitter regrets, and even Pascal's jealous sister, who envies Pascal's higher standing among their tribe so much she almost becomes a dragon). Completing each one not only ensures their free will but also allows Asbel to armatize with them. But before Asbel can take the final step of becoming a Shepherd under Fodra, he hears from her that Richard has located the fire shrine of Forbranir, and so he returns to Ephinea with his freed friends in order to try and stop him.

Unfortunately, Asbel's armatuses are no match for Richard's armatus with the Empyrean Lambda, taking on a form far more demonic than angelic (aka Richard's final boss form from canon, roughly). Richard succeeds in stealing Forbranir's power and this time seems to be suppressing the will of humanity, though Asbel is protected from its effects by the blessings of his friends. Asbel returns to Fodra in the hopes finishing his pact with her will free the humans, too.

The last step of Fodra's trial tests Asbel and the others' belief in humanity. They learn that Lambda was an artificially created Empyrean who lost faith in humans after those of supposedly divine blood murdered his Shepherd vessel Cornell and sealed Lambda away. Humans created their own god then turned on it when it failed to please them, they always tear down goodness for their own selfish ends. That is why he decided they were truly evil.

They also learn that Sophie, as the soul that was sacrificed to release Lambda, is now a part of him (like Laphicet), hence why she was unaffected by and can even decently match his powers. But even after learning of these origins, Asbel and the others still believe that humanity has a future that they wish to protect. With this Fodra gives him her blessing, and Asbel becomes a true Shepherd like he'd always dreamed. Now he just needs to reach his other friend and get him to believe in that dream again, too.

The humans and seraphim on Ephinea have regained their free will thanks to Asbel's Empyrean pact countering Lambda's domain, and they offer Asbel and his seraphic friends their prayers as Asbel chases after Richard into the planet's core, where the final Empyrean of Earth, Lastalia, dwells. They confront him at the core and battle again. Richard has the power of his Lambda armatus AND 3 devoured Empyreans, while Asbel has the power of 5 seraphim 1 Empyrean and the prayers of basically every human so it's one HELL of a fight 😅 But Asbel is able to win by pulling a fucking 5 way armatus (like the noncanonical ending of the Zesty anime I know it's silly but c'mon Asbel would TOTALLY do that if he could 😂 it's the power of friendship, literally.)

With Richard and Lambda defeated, Asbel is able to appeal to Richard and get him to believe again in the humans that he once wanted to save. But Lambda refuses to trust humanity again, and thus cannot be purified. Sophie offers to sacrifice herself to seal Lambda away again, since she can match his powers with her own, but Asbel opts to become Lambda's vessel instead despite his malevolence--- as long as Asbel believes in both himself and Lambda, it won't corrupt him, and he can attempt to purify it as he shows Lambda the world. Lambda accepts his terms, and Richard and Asbel renew their pact, this time with Richard as his squire since he no longer trusts himself and besides Asbel has proven himself a worthy Shepherd twice over.

...The end? 😅

[loveologystudies]

thinking about isat flight rising au.......

[styxxsyringe]

zeno's ultimate pokemiku tierlist ⁉️(it's all his opinion and he loves them all regardless⁉️)