#clock and dagger

[spookywolfgardener]

Book rebinding practice! A great way to experiment with cover design ideas. Local library had a by donation book sale and I picked up this cozy clockmaker mystery series to rebind into hardcover versions. Was able to practice with layering different designs and quite happy with how it turned out! Getting more comfortable with vector art programs. The design elements themselves are pretty predictable but I never claimed to be creative!

[librarydilf]

This is Alec's canon response and also one of my favorite Solas moments in the game. I LOVE the reactions you get from him when you come at him with the more upfront, furious options in act 3. Rook completely has the read on him here and Solas has lost the leverage he's been using to manipulate them. WHAT A MOMENT WHAT A SITUATION.

[lavampira]

ffxiv sapphic sunday • new beginnings

[mel-loly]

does axel have any specific weapons he normally carries or does he just focus on hand-to-hand combat?

Hey Crim!!! Hry?? Also-

YES! Well, RPG!Axel really likes to use daggers, for example the ones on his belt (I know they don't look like them, but they are daggers 😅), and one in particular that he keeps hidden:

If you got the reference about the name and description, tell me in the comments! (hint: it is inspired by a horror story about Edgar Allan Poe that I simply love passionately!!!)

Oh, and this is the only dagger whose power, in addition to being able to function normally, works stronger, the blows are very strong, agile and assertive, it doesn't miss a single blow :]

He sometimes uses and carries axes and sickles, but he really focuses on daggers and other small weapons. His melee style still wins in strength but daggers also help sometimes ^^

Thank you so much for the ask!!!!!💕

Tagging: @aesopsbaby @screwzara @imma-sue-you-becky @boiling-potato @honeysleepy @feelin-lo @startheimpactfangirl

[joyfulxgod]

[x][x][x]/[x]🗡️[x]/[x][x][x] || Sly - Hollow Knight || requested by anonymous ::D

Thank you for the request!! ::D I'm super sorry it took me so long, I've just been kinda overwhelmed lately so haha I don't have much time to work on stimboards. I love Sly, he's so super cool haha, I really hope I did him justice and you enjoy this one ::)

[moontheoretist]

So many cameos today! (Why human-like Apocalypse is so HOT?!) Also Tony at last looks like a metal bucket I remember him as xD

Silver Samurai (Kenuichio Harada) Captain America (Steve Rogers) Iron Man (Tony Stark) Daredevil (Matt Murdock) Dr Strange (Stephen Strange) Black Panther (T'Chaka) Dora Milaje Clock (Tyrone Johnson) Dagger (Tandy Bowen)

Winter Guard Team:

Darkstar (Laynia Petrovna)

Crimson Dynamo (Valentin Shatalov)

Omega Red (Arkady Rossovich)

Alpha Flight Team:

Aurora (Jeanne-Marie Beaubier)

Northstar (Jean-Paul Beaubier)

Puck (Eugene Judd)

Cipher (Alisa Tager) Psylocke (Elizabeth Braddock) Scarlet Witch (Wanda Maximoff) Quicksilver (Pietro Maximoff) Polaris (Lorna Dane) Peter Parker (Spiderman) Mary Jane Watson

On the photos:

Colossus (Piotr Rasputin)

Dust (Sooraya Qadir)

Archangel (Warren Worthington III)

Magik (Illyana Rasputin)

Iceman (Bobby Drake)

Havok (Alexander Summers)

Exodus (Bennet du Paris)

Shadowcat (Kitty Pryde)

Emma Frost

Mother Askani (Rachel Summers) Apocalypse (En Sabah Nur)

[mostsanescarletspiderfan]

Cataclysm: ultimate Spider-Man #1 is literally the funniest thing ever, Tandy Decides to be a superhero and a split second later fucking GALACUS shows up behind her.

Like what are you even supposed to do in a situation like that.

[themidnightcircusshow]

I feel like you could do an absolutely amazing thriller that's just the lead up to Henry IV's death

[dieverged]

it's so interesting, to me. i can't figure out if nima is sadder in her DA verse comparatively to her ffxiv verse. granted, they are quite different in that within DA she's following from her own timeline & in ffxiv she was already a participant IN the world. but man.

main verse nima just keeps losing i tell you!

[council--board]

Ghostfire [OC] stimboard

phighting oc phighting oc

I need more art of this man. I forgot his fucking jacket collar when drawing this :(

x | x | x

x | x | x

x | x | x

[voidignitia]

Finally getting into Rivals and being like “oooo I wonder what the fandom is getting into! I really like Loki” like Marvel hasn’t been THE biggest fandom for two whole decades

[rimzaaa]

Happily Ever After

Oneshot!

Pairing: Frontman(inho) x Female reader(y/n)

Fandom: Squid Game (오징어 게임)

Summary: What if the final game never truly ended? What if love survived the arena?

Y/N thought she had lost everything. The man she loved—dead. Her world—shattered. But when the mask comes off, and the truth is revealed, she's forced to face her deepest heartbreak all over again. With a newborn in her arms and her past standing in front of her, will she walk away… or risk everything for a second chance?

This is a story of betrayal, grief, found family, and the kind of love that crawls out of hell just to hold you again.

Warning: Violence & death. Blood & trauma. Canon-typical content. Emotional breakdowns. Heavy angst. Redemption arc. Some soft comfort & fluff. Mentions of suicidal ideation (brief)

Author's Note: This is my first ever fanfiction for Squid Game, and it’s centered around my favorite character—the Frontman (aka Inho/Young-il). I wanted to give the show an ending that we all think the characters deserve. This story means a lot to me, so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Feedback and reblogs mean the world 💌

Words Count: 4.2K+

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦

The air was thick — heavy with the scent of blood, sweat, and fear.

Only three players remained: Y/N, Gi-hun, and Player 222 — Jun-hee’s daughter, too young to understand the stakes of the game.

They stood on the broad, red-stained surface of the triangle-shaped platform, raised high above the arena floor. It was wide enough to move, to run — or to fight. The ground beneath them felt solid, but the danger lay in the unspoken rule: one of them had to fall.

Y/N clutched the child tightly against her chest, her breath quick, her heartbeat louder than the ticking clock. A few feet away, Gi-hun stood in silence, eyes locked on the next shape — the circle, waiting for the moment someone would make the first move.

Time was running out.

Only two players could jump forward.

High above the arena, behind the wall of dark glass, the Frontman stood in silence — his mask reflecting the soft glow of the lights. The VIPs lounged nearby, laughing, drinking, placing their bets. But he wasn't listening.

His heart was pounding.

There they were.

Y/N and Gi-hun.

Two names from a life he barely recognized anymore.

Two people he once knew... back when he was still young-il.

Originally, he had entered the games as a player with one mission — to keep an eye on Gi-hun. But the moment he saw you, everything changed.

He fell for you. Hard.

Quietly. Helplessly.

And without telling a soul, he made himself a promise:

He would protect you. No matter the cost.

But now, as he watched from the shadows of power, that promise echoed bitterly in his chest.

Because all he could think about…

was what happened last night.

⟣ FLASHBACK ⟢

The room was dimly lit. Player 100 and Player 333 were fast asleep after the luxurious dinner arranged for them as finalists. Gi-hun and Y/N, however, remained awake — watching over the baby girl Jun-hee had entrusted to them.

Suddenly, a pink guard entered the room and walked toward them.

“The Leader wants to see you both,” he said flatly.

Gi-hun and Y/N exchanged a glance before standing up and silently following the guard.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft beep.

And there he was — the Frontman, seated calmly on a couch in his all-black uniform, his expression hidden behind a dark mask.

Gi-hun and Y/N walked in slowly, stopping in front of him.

“Sit down. This will take some time”

He said in his cold, commanding voice.

They obeyed, taking seats across from him.

“I have an offer for both of you.”

Both Gi-hun and Y/N stared at him, confused.

An offer?

The Frontman reached into the pocket of his long coat and pulled out two daggers, placing them on the table between them.

“Go and kill the remaining two players,” he said evenly. “And I’ll make sure you both walk out of here. The next game won’t happen — I promise you that.”

“Why should we trust you? Why would you help us?”

Gi-hun asked sharply, trying to make sense of what was happening.

Y/N, meanwhile, was silent — her eyes locked on the man behind the mask. Something in her gut told her something was coming… something big.

The Frontman’s eyes flicked between the two of them beneath his mask.

He took a slow breath, then reached up — pulling back the hood of his uniform.

Then, without a word, he removed his mask.

And looked straight at them.

“…young-il?”

Y/N whispered, her voice trembling, her breath catching.

Her hands shook as she stared at the man she had once fallen in love with inside these deadly walls — the man who had whispered soft promises to her in the dark. The man she’d mourned. The man she thought was long dead.

He wasn’t.

He was alive.

Right in front of her.

Part of her wanted to throw herself into his arms, to cry into his shoulder and tell him how much she missed him.

The other part wanted to grab that dagger… and drive it into his throat.

She clenched her fists tightly in her lap, her heart unraveling.

“young-il… you…?”

Gi-hun looked stunned, disbelief washing over his face. The man he once trusted — the one who had fought by his side — was the Frontman?

The Front Man lowered his head.

“In-ho”

He corrected quietly, barely above a whisper. There was guilt in his voice. Shame in his eyes.

He turned to Y/N. She was gripping the hem of her t-shirt tightly, her eyes glassy with tears — but she refused to let them fall.

“Why?”

Her voice cut through the silence like a blade.

“Why did you do this to us?”

Before In-ho could answer, Gi-hun suddenly stood up, grabbing one of the daggers off the table, rage flaring in his eyes. He raised It as if to strike but stopped just short — trembling, breath uneven.

“Why did you kill Jung-bae?”

He asked through gritted teeth.

In-ho didn’t flinch.

“I’m sorry for what happened to him,” he said. “But killing me now won’t fix it. Someone else will just take my place. You both need to get out of here — with that baby.”

There was a flicker of desperation in his voice.

Despite everything — the lies, the betrayal, the pain — he was still trying to protect them.

“I swear I’ll explain everything. But please… just do what I’m telling you. Go back. End this. I’ll make sure you both survive.”

Gi-hun scoffed bitterly, shaking his head before storming out of the room — dagger still in hand.

Now only Y/N remained.

She sat frozen in her chair, staring at the man across from her — the man she once gave her heart to.

In-ho slowly rose from the couch and stepped toward her.

But she was faster.

Y/N snatched the second dagger from the table and stood, holding it out toward him.

“Don’t… don’t come closer.”

In-ho froze.

“Don’t you dare come near me,”

She snapped, voice shaking.

“You’re a liar. A killer.”

Those words sliced deeper than any wound.

He had been called that before. Many times.

But coming from her?

It shattered something in him.

“Y/N”

He whispered, taking a step forward.

“Don’t!”

She screamed, stepping back.

“Don’t come any closer or I swear… I’ll kill myself.”

She pressed the dagger to her throat.

In-ho’s heart nearly stopped.

His hands flew up in surrender.

“Okay — okay. I won’t. I promise.”

“Y/N, please… just listen. Just this once.”

His voice cracked, stripped of all command.

He was no longer the Frontman now — he was just In-ho.

A man begging the woman he loved to believe in him one last time.

“I don’t believe you.”

Her voice was a whisper.

“You’re not young-il. You’re not the man I fell in love with.”

The words hit him like a bullet.

He couldn’t speak. Only watched as a tear finally slipped down her cheek.

“Please, Y/N,”

He breathed.

“Don’t say that. I know I’ve done horrible things. I’ve lied. I’ve killed. But my love for you — it was never part of the game. It was pure. It was real. It is real.”

She let out a bitter laugh.

“Pure? Do you even know what that word means?”

She lowered the dagger. Stepped back.

“I loved you. I really did. But now…”

She paused. Her voice cracked.

“If you love me — even a little — you’ll help us. You’ll help us all escape this sick, twisted world of yours.”

The words struck deep.

She threw the dagger to the floor with a sharp clatter.

Then turned.

And without looking back…

She walked away.

⟣ PRESENT ⟢

Y/N trembled with fear, but her grip on the baby girl remained steady as she cradled her tightly against her chest.

Across from her, Gi-hun stood frozen in thought, still lost in everything that had happened — and likely still struggling to accept the impossible truth: Young-il… was the Frontman.

“We can’t stay here forever,”

Gi-hun’s voice suddenly cut through the silence.

“We have to think of something.”

Y/N stepped closer to him, lowering her voice as if afraid someone — or something — might hear.

“Gi-hun…”

She glanced around warily, then met his eyes.

“Maybe… maybe we should wait. What if what In-ho said… what if it’s true?”

Gi-hun stared at her in disbelief.

“What?”

His voice cracked with pain.

“You think that man — the one who killed Jung-bae — will save us?”

The memory of that moment was still fresh in his mind.

The blood. The scream. The mask.

“Do you…”

He paused, his voice thick with emotion.

“Do you still love him, Y/N?”

Her heart stuttered in her chest.

She didn’t know the answer.

She’d spent the whole night convincing herself that In-ho was a monster — a liar, a murderer. But some part of her — the part that remembered whispered promises and warmth in a cold, brutal world — refused to let go.

“I don’t know,”

She whispered, eyes falling to the floor.

“But… I want to believe him.”

She didn’t dare look at Gi-hun after that — afraid of what she might see in his eyes.

Behind the dark glass wall, In-ho stood silently, watching it all unfold alongside the laughing, drunken VIPs. He didn’t need to hear her words to know what she was saying.

And God…

It was already tearing him apart.

His thoughts spun in every direction — calculating, panicking, hoping.

He turned his head slowly toward the VIPs, who were already placing bets and laughing about who would fall first.

His jaw tightened behind the mask.

He was running out of time.

But if there was even a single chance to stop this game — to end all of this — he was going to take it.

Gi-hun ran a hand through his hair, eyes flickering between Y/N and the baby in her arms.

The clock was ticking.

Tension rising.

He turned his gaze toward the last platform — the circle.

There wasn’t much time left.

If they didn’t act soon, all three of them would be eliminated.

“I’ll do it”

Gi-hun said quietly, not looking at her.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then turned to face her.

Stepping closer, he placed his hands gently on her shoulders.

“Y/N…”

His voice was low. Shaky. Thick with emotion.

“This baby — she’s innocent. Jun-hee entrusted her to us. She deserves to live.”

A beat.

“And you…”

He paused, his lips quivering slightly.

“I know you still love him. In-ho. And I don’t blame you.”

“You’re the best person I met here,”

He continued, voice breaking.

“And I know he loves you too. He won’t let you die.”

He tried to smile — a pained, trembling thing — as tears welled in his eyes.

“I have no one left.”

His voice cracked.

“My daughter… she’s safe. She’s happy. That’s enough for me.”

He looked down at the baby nestled in Y/N’s arms and smiled softly.

“I’ll go.”

“You both need to live.”

Y/N’s silent tears streamed down her face as she stepped forward, wrapping her arms tightly around him.

“No… I can’t let you die for us,”

She whispered, shaking her head desperately.

“You can’t just give up your life like this.”

Gi-hun held her close, his own tears falling freely now.

“Someone has to.”

He pulled back gently, brushing a hand over her arm. Then, leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to the baby’s forehead.

“Keep her safe, Y/N.”

“And take care of yourself, too.”

“I’m sure In-ho will come for you.”

He smiled faintly, then began stepping backward.

One step closer to the edge.

Y/N sobbed, her voice breaking apart as she screamed:

“NO! GIHUN, DON’T!!”

But he didn’t stop.

In-ho watched as Gi-hun stepped backward, inching closer to the edge of the triangle-shaped platform.

He stopped — just a few feet from falling.

This was it.

Now or never.

In-ho’s jaw tightened, fists clenched. His heart was hammering in his chest.

He couldn’t let Gi-hun die.

Not after the promise he made to her.

Behind the glass wall, his eyes stayed locked on Y/N.

She had fallen to her knees, crying, screaming, begging Gi-hun to stop.

The baby lay beside her on the platform — unaware of the nightmare unfolding around her.

In-ho’s chest burned with guilt.

The sight of her like that — broken, helpless — was unbearable.

“Goodbye, Y/N”

Gi-hun whispered, a faint, resigned smile on his lips.

And just as he was about to fall back—

BANG.

A gunshot tore through the silence.

Y/N screamed.

Gi-hun flinched, stumbling forward in shock.

Behind the glass, the room exploded into chaos.

In-ho stood holding a smoking gun — and one of the VIPs lay dead at his feet.

The remaining VIPs froze — stunned, furious, terrified.

“What the fuck did you just do?!”

One of them roared.

In-ho didn’t answer.

He simply raised his gun again, pointing it toward the one who spoke — who immediately backed off in fear.

“This game ends here”

He said, voice thick with rage and barely-contained grief beneath the mask.

He turned to one of the pink guards and gave a sharp nod.

Seconds later, the cold robotic voice echoed through the entire arena:

“The game has been stopped.”

On the platform below, Gi-hun and Y/N stared upward — eyes wide.

They knew.

They knew it was him.

Y/N lowered her head, tears still slipping down her cheeks — but a deep part of her exhaled in relief.

A part of her that knew he would come for her.

That he would keep his promise.

Another VIP stepped forward, but In-ho fired a shot into the ceiling — making him freeze instantly.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“You can’t do this!”

Another VIP spat.

“We fund your games! You exist because of us!”

In-ho stepped forward slowly, like a shadow rising.

“I’m ending this game.”

His voice was cold now. Final.

“And I’m ending you with it.”

The room was suddenly flooded with guards — all pink suits, all armed, their weapons now turned on the VIPs.

In-ho walked toward the exit.

“Boss!”

The black-mask officer called out.

“What do you want us to do with them?”

In-ho didn’t turn around.

Didn’t flinch.

“Kill them all”

He said quietly.

Then walked out of the room.

Gunshots echoed in the distance as In-ho stormed through the corridors, heading straight for the game arena.

His mind raced. His grip tightened on the gun still warm in his hand.

A pink-suited guard came running from the control room, nearly stumbling as he approached.

“Sir!”

In-ho stopped and turned toward him. “What is it?”

“We’ve got a problem. Coastal guards — they’re headed this way. We believe they’ve located the island.”

In-ho’s expression remained calm behind the mask, but inside, he knew this day would come.

His brother. Jun-ho.

He always knew he’d find him eventually.

In-ho followed the guard into the control room. A monitor flickered, showing the coordinates and proximity of the coastal ships — closer than ever.

Without hesitation, In-ho crossed to a locked panel on the wall.

He took a key from his pocket and unlocked the hidden compartment.

Inside: a single red button.

He didn't hesitate even for a second — then pressed it.

A piercing siren blared, echoing across the island.

“We’re leaving”

In-ho commanded, his voice like steel.

Guards scattered into motion around him, collecting hard drives, burning papers — prepping the evacuation.

On the Platform…

Gi-hun and Y/N looked up in alarm as the siren wailed through the sky.

“What… what is that?”

Y/N asked, her voice trembling.

Was In-ho behind this?

What was he planning?

Or worse… had he changed his mind again?

Gi-hun rushed to her side, knelt down, scooping the baby girl into his arms and wrapping his free arm around Y/N’s shoulder.

“Stay close,”

He whispered.

“Whatever’s coming… I’ve got you both.”

Suddenly, with a mechanical hiss, the center of the triangular platform began to open — revealing a hidden lift.

Both Y/N and Gi-hun stumbled back, stunned.

The platform rose again…

And there he was.

In-ho. Standing in his usual frontman dress. Mask still on.

“You… what the hell are you doing?!”

Gi-hun shouted, stepping forward as he carefully laid the baby back down.

“What’s going on?!”

Y/N froze, staring at In-ho — her chest rising and falling fast.

She wanted to scream, but something about his eyes beneath the mask told her… he hadn’t given up.

“I’m keeping my promise,”

In-ho said quietly as he stepped forward.

“There’s no time to explain. We have to move. Now.”

“This siren — what does it mean?”

Y/N demanded, her voice cracking between rage and fear.

In-ho knelt beside her, took off his mask and gently lifted the baby into his arms.

Gi-hun made a move, but Y/N’s small shake of her head stopped him.

In-ho looked down at the baby, his expressions changed just for a second. Maybe the memories of his unborn child hit him. He quickly composed himself then looked up at her.

“The island is rigged to explode. We don’t have much time.”

A beat.

“Y/N, please… just trust me. I’ll explain everything later. But if we don’t leave now, none of us make it out.”

Gi-hun took the baby from In-ho and gave Y/N a solemn nod.

“He’s right. Let’s go.”

Y/N stood, still glaring at In-ho.

He reached out a hand to help her up.

But she ignored it. As she was still angry at him. She stood on her own — proud, guarded.

In-ho lowered his hand and curled it into a tight fist, but said nothing.

He led them both out of the arena, through a hidden back corridor.

A hidden dock. A ship waiting.

The guards had already boarded the other escape vessels, leaving behind only the sound of alarms and the ticking clock of destruction.

Gi-hun boarded with the baby, Y/N right behind him.

In-ho hesitated, turning for one last look at the island.

And then he stepped aboard.

Moments later, the engines roared to life, and the ship sped away from the shore.

As they sailed into the horizon, a massive explosion lit up the sky behind them — the island engulfed in flames.

It was over.

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦

The sky was dark, moonlight hidden behind drifting clouds.

The steady sound of waves filled the air as the ship cut through the black ocean, heading toward the nearest safe dock.

Inside a quiet room below deck, Y/N gently rocked the baby girl in her arms — her tiny eyes fluttering closed, unaware of the world she’d survived.

Meanwhile, up on the deck, Gi-hun stood at the railing, staring blankly into the ocean, lost in thought.

Footsteps approached.

In-ho came to stand beside him, silent for a moment. Then he held out two small bottles of soju.

“You remember?” he said softly.

“We promised we’d drink soju together… once we made it out alive.”

Gi-hun didn’t even glance at him.

He let out a dry, bitter scoff and shook his head.

“I made that promise to young-il.”

In-ho lowered his head, guilt crashing over him like the waves below.

“I know,” he said quietly.

“And I know you hate me for everything I’ve done. You have every right to.”

He looked over at Gi-hun, whose eyes stayed locked on the horizon — silent, hard, unreadable.

“But let me fix things now. Whatever I can. I did… horrible things. I thought humanity was dead. But you—”

In-ho swallowed hard, voice thick.

“You proved me wrong.”

Gi-hun finally turned his head, surprised.

“You were going to give up your life… just to save Y/N. And that baby. You showed me… there are still good people left in this world.”

The man who once orchestrated death games… now standing beside him, confessing his defeat?

Gi-hun didn’t know how to respond.

Not fully.

But after a long pause, he reached out — and without looking — took one of the soju bottles from In-ho’s hand.

“Finally,” he muttered under his breath.

He opened the bottle, still not meeting In-ho’s eyes.

But that single action said enough.

In-ho smiled faintly.

He didn’t speak again. He knew forgiveness wouldn’t come easy.

But maybe, just maybe…

This was the first step.

Y/N gently laid the baby down on the bed, her hands lingering on the blanket.

She leaned back against the headboard, eyes fluttering closed.

Click.

The door creaked open.

She sat up instantly.

In-ho stepped in and quietly shut the door behind him.

“Can we talk?”

His voice was low. Hesitant. Not the voice of the Frontman. Just… his.

Y/N didn’t turn to face him.

“There’s nothing to talk about” she said, rising from the bed.

She turned her back to him — because she knew the moment she looked into his eyes, she’d lose all her resolve.

In-ho walked toward her slowly until he stood just a few steps away.

“Y/N…” he breathed.

“I know you hate me. And I deserve that. But…”

His voice cracked.

“Please believe me — loving you was never part of the game. I lied, yes. I did unforgivable things. But you— You were the only truth in all of it.”

His eyes shimmered. His voice, shaking.

Y/N turned sharply and stepped toward him, rage flooding through her chest.

She grabbed his collar with trembling hands.

“How dare you.”

Tears spilled from her eyes now — raw, broken, endless.

“You LIED to me. You faked your death. Do you even understand what that did to me?”

“I wanted to die. Because in a world where you didn’t exist — what was the fucking point of living?”

In-ho’s eyes dropped to the floor.

Her words shattered him.

And then — he fell.

Dropped to his knees.

Like a broken man — like a boy who lost everything.

He wrapped his arms around her legs, clinging to her like a lifeline.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry I made you feel that way…”

His voice was barely a whisper, thick with the weight of every buried emotion he’d ever carried — ones he’d never shown the world… except to her.

Y/N stood frozen — watching him.

The Frontman. The cold-blooded man behind the mask.

Now crying like a child at her feet.

She slowly knelt down, trembling, and gently cupped his face in her palms.

She wiped his tears away with her thumbs.

“I… I want to forgive you,” she whispered.

“But I can’t. Not after everything you did — to me, to us.”

In-ho’s heart lurched. His breath caught. Was this it? Was this the end?

“No” he whispered urgently, cupping her face.

He pressed his forehead to hers.

“Don’t say that. You don’t mean it. I know you don’t. Please — just one chance. Let me prove I’ve changed. Let me be better.”

He pulled back, searching her eyes for anything — a flicker of hope, the softness she used to show him.

But all he saw was pain.

So much pain.

She didn’t answer. She just shook her head.

And something inside him broke.

“Y/N, please…”

His voice cracked under the weight of desperation.

His hands trembled.

“I’ll protect you both — you and the baby. I’ll take you far away from this hell. I’ll keep you safe. Just… please don’t leave me like this. Please—”

He was spiraling — voice unraveling, panic rising.

She slowly stood up.

Took a single step back.

And that was enough.

“It’s over, In-ho.”

⋆｡°✩ 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 ✩°｡⋆

The house smelled of warm vanilla and sugar. Y/N had just finished baking Yu-ri’s favorite cookies.

Yu-ri — that was the name she’d given Junhee’s daughter. Now one year old, chubby-cheeked, bright-eyed… the spitting image of her mother.

Tiny footsteps pattered into the kitchen.

“Mama.”

Y/N turned with a soft smile. Yu-ri stood there, rubbing her sleepy eyes with her tiny fists. She was still half-asleep, but hearing her voice always filled Y/N’s chest with a bittersweet ache.

She knelt, scooping her up into her arms and kissing her temple.

“Did you sleep well, sweetheart?”

Yu-ri gave a slow nod, wrapping her small arms around Y/N’s neck.

Just then, her phone rang from the living room. Y/N’s face lit up when she saw the caller ID.

Gihun.

She pressed the green button, settled on the couch, and gently placed Yu-ri in her lap.

“Hey! Gihun. How are you?”

“I’m good. What about you? And how’s the little queen?”

“She just woke up. Moody as always”

Y/N laughed, just as Yu-ri peeked into the camera and babbled: “Un..cle!”

Gihun chuckled, but his eyes glistened with tears.

“She looks… just like Junhee,”

He said softly, and a flicker of pain crossed his face.

Sensing the shift in mood, Y/N tried to steer the conversation gently.

“So? Adjusted to American life yet?”

Gihun had moved to the U.S. a year ago to be closer to his daughter — trying to start fresh, to live differently.

“Yeah. You could say I’m figuring it out.”

Then, a pause.

“Y/N… Inho called me last night.”

Her smile faded.

Inho. The man she had once loved. The man who had broken her.

The memories crashed into her like a wave — the betrayal, the lies, the pain… and somehow, still, the love.

“I forgave him,” Gihun said gently.

“He’s changed, Y/N. And I hope, someday, you’ll be able to forgive him too.”

Before she could respond, the front door creaked open.

“I’ll call you later, Gihun.” She ended the call and placed the phone aside.

“I’m home!”

A familiar voice called.

Yu-ri’s entire face lit up.

“Appa! Appa!!”

She scrambled off the couch and ran to the door.

Inho walked in, catching her in his arms instantly.

“Aww, appa’s little princess” He whispered, kissing the top of her head.

“Can appa get a kiss too?”

Yu-ri giggled and gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek, making him laugh.

He stepped into the living room, holding her, and Y/N stood nearby — a plate of warm cookies in her hand.

“Yu-ri, come baby. Let’s eat.”

Yu-ri gasped excitedly, “Yayyy!” and reached for the cookies.

Inho gently set her down, and she happily took a big bite.

Y/N turned to head back into the kitchen—

But Inho caught her wrist.

She turned to him.

He dropped down on one knee.

A small red velvet box in his hand.

Y/N’s heart stopped.

“I know you weren’t expecting this”

Inho began, his voice trembling.

“And I know you haven’t fully forgiven me. But it’s been a year… and I’m so thankful you decided to give me a second chance that night”

“Today, I want to make it official. I want to be a father to Yu-ri. I want to be yours — forever.”

“Y/N"

"Will you marry me?”

Tears welled in her eyes.

Could this really be happening?

The memories of the games, the horror, the heartbreak… it all came crashing back — but so did every moment of change, of healing, of the quiet love that had grown again.

She nodded slowly, her voice breaking:

“Yes.”

Inho’s eyes widened, stunned.

“I forgave you, Inho. I just never said it. You’ve changed — and you’ve proven it.”

“But promise me… you’ll never go back to who you were.”

He stood, pulling her into his arms.

“I swear. I’ll spend the rest of my life giving you both the happiness you deserve.”

He slid the ring onto her finger.

They both smiled through their tears.

And then he leaned in and kissed her — a soft, emotional kiss filled with everything they couldn’t say. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, returning it with just as much love.

“Oooo…”

Yu-ri’s curious voice made them break the kiss and laugh.

Inho picked her up again and tickled her until she squealed with joy.

Y/N grabbed her phone with a grin.

“Time to tell someone the news.”

She video-called Gihun.

“What happened? You ended the call so suddenly earlier—”

She raised her hand.

The ring sparkled on her finger.

Inho stepped in, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“WHAT? He proposed to you?!”

Gihun’s jaw dropped.

“Damn! I’m so happy for you both,”

He said, his voice cracking, eyes glassy.

“We have decided to officially make Yu-ri our daughter” Inho added.

Gihun nodded in approval.

“After everything… you two deserve this. A real, peaceful life.”

“Finally,”

He smiled.

“A happy ending.”

Y/N and Inho echoed together:

“Yes"

"Happily ever after.”

[scarletmika]

I Just Feel You : ̗̀➛ Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Reader

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds/Sentry x Empath!Reader

Summary: Bob Reynolds was broken, and he knew that, but he was trying. He was trying to be better, to control himself. But like Stitch had said: broken, but still good. You were beginning to make Bob believe that he was, in fact, still good.

Warnings: fluff, maybe a TINY bit of angst but not really, idiots in love with some pining, SPOILERS I guess for Thunderbolts*, talk of mental illness and drugs, tiny bit OOC Bob

Word Count: 2,603 words

Requests are open! : ̗̀➛ Find my masterlist here

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧

“The uh, the glowing doesn’t, like…hurt, does it?”

“Your eyes glow, and it doesn’t hurt you, right? It’s the same thing with my powers,”

Bob was mesmerized as you sat beside him in his bedroom, the soft green glow that seemed to envelop your hands as the feeling in the room changed. It had been a low day for him, his insecurities seeming to catch up with him after a failed training session with Walker and Bucky, and he’d retreated into his room to attempt the meditation tactics you’d been teaching him. But then, you’d walked in behind him, and the aura of pure tranquility and peace that poured off of you engulfed him, and suddenly his low day wasn’t so bad anymore.

The team hadn’t known what you had been capable of, at least not at first. You were skilled with the twin daggers tied to your utility belt, and a decent enough shot when you got your hands on a gun, two things they’d learned quickly down in Valentina’s vault. The sudden addition of Bob, along with Valentina locking them into what they’d quickly learned was an incinerator, had only heightened the anxious feelings in the room as the shouting commenced again between the mercenaries sent to their doom.

“Everyone relax!” you’d suddenly called out, a wave of energy almost washing the room in a soft green for a second. They’d watched your body stumble slightly before you shook your head. “We’re on the clock, we have to work together if we’re getting out of here.”

None of them knew you, so why were they listening to you? It was almost as if the second you’d told them to relax, they were hit with a wave of peace, and they were quickly working together to get out of the vault.

An empath, they’d quickly learned, when you’d torn Bob and Walker apart and taken the former to the side, seemingly having a way of calming him down within moments. Walker had read about another empath in SHIELD files Valentina had managed to get her hands on, an alien woman of some kind that had helped fight off Thanos. Other than her, none of them had ever encountered an empath before.

They quickly caught on that there was no lying to you about how they were feeling, because their emotions radiated off them in waves that you could constantly feel. Yelena’s sadness, John’s guilt, Ava’s desire for a family, the pain that Bucky and Alexei tried so hard to hide, you felt it all, all the time.

That’s why, as Yelena had dug herself out of containment within the Void, she’d stopped to tug you out from under the shelf lying on top of you, pushing you forward toward Bob as he battled with his inner demons, running directly behind you.

You’d paid no mind to Yelena hugging Bob opposite of you, or the rest of the rag-tag team you’d assembled trying to tug him back. You simply clung to him, turning to rest his forehead against your own, hand on his cheek glowing a soft green color as you whispered to him over and over again.

I’m here. I’m not going anywhere…I’ll never leave you. I’m here, Bob.

So, based on what they’d already seen and known, it was no surprise to anyone on The New Avengers that you both gravitated to one another day in and day out.

“It’s just pretty to look at,” Bob had mumbled, still watching your hands that now lay in your lap. He lay on his bed, head resting against one of his many worn-in pillows, just watching you from where you sat cross-legged in front of him. “Make me feel something.”

You’d quirked an eyebrow at his request, before reaching forward and laying your hand on his arm. His tranquil demeanor invaded your senses, a stark contrast to how he’d been when you’d first gotten to his room hours before, and you thought back on Alexei’s story the night before about somehow getting to drive Chris Rock around Washington D.C. months before. You pushed the feeling of every laugh you’d all shared that night into that demeanor that felt so much like Bob, imbuing him with the feeling of that night.

A smile stretched across your face the second you’d heard his laughter begin, unable to tear your eyes away. Happiness suited Bob, you’d known that from the moment you’d joked with him outside the vault, seeing a peak of his smile for the first time. He deserved to feel like this all the time: light, happy, free.

“Thank you,” Bob could feel the flush cross his face as his laughter subsided, stumbling over his words for a moment. “For uh- you know, being here. With me.”

You’d simply smiled back at him, lying down beside him on his bed. Bob shifted to his side so he could look at you, and no matter how many times you’d both lain here talking in the past, it still made his heart race to know you trusted him enough to be here in such a vulnerable position with him.

“You don’t have to thank me. We’ll always be here if you need us,”

“Yeah, but uh, you don’t treat me like a child. Unlike most of them,” Bob had mumbled.

It was a harsh reality, but not incorrect, and Bob knew that you knew it. Bucky managed to treat him like a ticking time bomb around every corner, but given the explanation he’d gotten about New York and what he’d done, and the moments that had slowly come back to him, he didn’t blame him. John, Ava, and Alexei were the worst about it, talking down to him like a child, as if he weren’t a grown man capable of making his own decisions and needed to be babysat twenty-four seven.

Yelena tried not to baby him, but she had her moments still. She constantly had a way of asking if he was okay, no matter the situation, and sometimes it had Bob on the verge of snapping. If he wanted to talk about it, he would, he didn’t need to be babysat.

It was one of the best things about you. You never asked if he was okay, simply just sat with him. You talked to him like you did the rest of the team, you let him come to you with his problems. He’d overheard Walker once say to you that you were the “best means of controlling” him, that you could simply imbue him with any feeling you wanted.

Of course, you’d kicked Walker so hard in the shins for that comment that his skin had broken open and needed to be stitched up. In your eyes, Bob was a person, and you refused to ever manipulate him in any way, shape, or form. It’s what made it so easy for him to fall in love with you.

“You know they mean well,” you’d tried to reassure him. “Yeah, they have their…quirks about it, and maybe they don’t always go about it in the best way. But they do care.”

“Not- not like you do,” Bob shook his head, embarrassed to look at you as his gaze drifted across the room to his bookshelf, the one you’d helped personally curate for him with hundreds of books he’d come to adore. “No, you don’t treat me like- like I’m broken. I am, but at least you don’t treat me like I am.”

“Bob, you’re-”

“Don’t say I’m not-”

“You might be broken, but you’re still good,” the smile on your face slowly morphed into a smirk. “That’s from this Disney movie-”

“I grew up in Florida, I’ve seen Lilo and Stitch. I might’ve been addicted to meth but uh- it didn’t entirely screw up my memory,”

The shared laughter between you both died down as there was a shift in Bob’s aura, and it washed over you in another wave of emotion.

It wasn’t the first time you’d felt it, the affection pouring off of him and in your direction. It was always there, growing, and almost always buried beneath his everyday feelings. But in moments like this, it was the most prominent feeling radiating off of him, and it did nothing to stop the flush that covered your own cheeks.

Bob simply watched as your hand found his cheek, layin lightly ontop of his skin as you looked at him.

“That little blue alien has a point. We’re all a little broken, Bob, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t good, or can’t become good. Broken isn’t bad, you just have to put the pieces back together,”

Bob couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, until the feeling that seemed to be flooding off of you and seeping into his very skin and being washed over him. He closed his eyes for just a moment, humming to himself at the feeling as his flush persisted over his skin.

“I- I don’t know what you’re making me feel right now, but it’s…it’s nice,”

“I’m not making you feel anything,” his eyes shot open, to see you still simply looking at him with that tiny grin, thumb still running over the skin of his cheek. “It’s…it’s just me.”

“...I just feel you?”

“Just me,” you took your hand away, not missing the way he chased after the feeling. You held it between you, showing the soft glow around you. “I’d never force you to feel something, not unless you asked. What you’re feeling it’s just all of my emotions mixed together. It’s just…me.”

“I…I like feeling that,”

“I know you do,” your grin became a smirk again as you leaned your head closer to him. “I think you forget, I can feel your feelings…all of them.”

Bob’s grin dropped for a moment as the weight of your comment settled on him. His feelings, loud and begging to burst out of him, were clear as day to you. Of course you knew, but you weren’t making fun of him, you were simply watching him as if you were waiting for him to finally admit it all.

“Can- can I kiss you?”

You didn’t answer with words, you answered with a simple kiss pressed to his lips. Bob responded fairly quickly after a moment, the feeling that he now knew was simply just you washing over him, as you reached out to hold you close to him, completely wrapped up in everything that was you.

Moving from the intimate friendship you’d shared to the now intimate romantic relationship between you and Bob hadn’t come as a shock to anyone, least of all to the pair of you. It was the softest of relationships, the softest of moments shared between you both. Bob always had his up days and his down days, but you were always at his side, allowing him to navigate his life as he chose to navigate it.

The team had been sent out on a mission that didn’t require everyone, and you and Bob had been volunteered to stay back. Neither of you cared much. After Walker had almost sent Bob spiraling in training the other day, a day to decompress was truly needed.

Bob found himself sitting on the common room couch, watching a random movie that he’d had on his list to watch for a while now, playing. You were lying across the rest of the couch, head resting in his lap as you watched along with him, sitting in a comfortable silence together.

One of Bob’s hands was in both of yours, your fingers dancing across his own, tracing the lines down his palms. His eyes flicked down to you every few moments, the smile on his face permanently etched there every time he looked at you.

“What’s your favorite flower?”

Bob paused, eyebrows furrowed as he glanced down at you, but your eyes were still locked onto his hand.

“Uh…an orange blossom. It was- it was my mom’s favorite flower. It’s the state flower of Florida,”

You’d hummed, before suddenly sitting upright, turning to face him, with one of his hands still sitting between your own. Bob watched you as you contemplated something before looking up at him.

“Do you trust me?” you paused for a moment before continuing. “There’s this thing I can do…I’ve only ever done it once, but…I had an idea.”

“I…I trust you,”

His hand laid in yours, palm up, as you closed your eyes. A single finger pointed down to his skin as Bob watched, that familiar green glow emitting as you began to trace over his palm.

There was the smallest of tingles at the feelings, of the tip of your finger and point of your nail tracing around on his palm. The moment you stopped and opened your eyes, you both looked down at his palm.

The smallest outline of a little orange blossom, just big enough to see, etched in that same glowing green on his palm. The light faded, as did the shape itself, molding into his skin.

Bob looked up at you, taking his hand back into his own lap, as you watched him.

“Pretend I’m not here, that I’m not in the room. You’re alone in your room…now think about it, the little flower,”

Bob did just as you instructed, closing his eyes and focusing his thoughts on that little flower. It didn’t take long until that tingle feeling returned to his skin, and he felt a wave of emotions rush over him.

Your quiet contentment, that same feeling you gave off every night as you read yet another book at one of your bedroom windows overlooking the skyline of New York. That hint of anxiety, the one that the team only noticed on missions in the most tense of moments. The overwhelming feeling of affection, adoration, and love that was directed straight at him and only him. Bob opened his eyes, tears threatening to fall as he looked back at you, at the nervous look on your face as you waited.

“I…I just feel you,”

“It’s called an imprint, an emotional imprint,” you explained gently as Bob looked back down at his hand, at the flower that was fading in glow once again. “I’ve done it once before, just never…on someone. I wasn’t sure it would work. I can imbue it with emotion, so say you want to feel warm and content under a blanket, I can place an imprint on it so that that’s what you feel the second you’re under it.”

Bob was watching you in pure amazement, flexing his hand.

“Why give me this?”

“So that you know that, even if I’m not with you,” you took a deep breath, a nervous smile still dancing on your lips. “I’m always with you. I could be halfway across the world, and I’m still always with you. So that you know…you’re never alone. If you need me, I’ll be there.”

There really weren’t words to say for the way you considered Bob’s feelings at every turn. The way you somehow managed to give him the space he needed to fix his own life, while also holding his hand through it.

In a rare moment of confidence, Bob reached forward and tugged you into a soft, sweet, loving kiss. A kiss where he knew you’d feel the way his affection and adoration shift: straight into love.

You did feel it. He never had to say it. A silent confession was all that was needed between the two of you in the dim lighting of the Watchtower’s common room.

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

List of Random Things For Your Dark Academia Settings | For Writers

The Library 📚

Towering mahogany bookshelves filled with ancient leather-bound tomes

Antique globes and faded maps mounted on the walls

Heavy velvet drapes blocking out the sunlight

Ornate brass reading lamps casting a warm glow

The musty smell of old books permeating the air

The Study 🪶

A large oak desk strewn with papers, quills, and ink bottles

Walls lined with pinned insect specimens and anatomical drawings

An antique typewriter, its keys clacking softly

Stacks of well-worn leather journals and notebooks

A cabinet of curiosities filled with skulls, fossils, and scientific oddities

The Classroom 🎓

Rows of old wooden desks, surfaces scratched with generations of graffiti

A blackboard covered in elaborate chalk diagrams and Latin phrases

Dusty shelves holding jars of formaldehyde-preserved specimens

Antique microscopes and brass telescopes waiting to be used

The tick-tock of a grandfather clock counting down the minutes

The Dormitory 🕯️

A four-poster bed heaped with tattered quilts and faded velvet pillows

Parquet wood floors layered with antique persian rugs

Flickering candles in tarnished silver holders casting dancing shadows

A steamer trunk overflowing with vintage tweeds and wool knits

Tea-stained pages of love letters and poetry scattered on the nightstand

The Secret Society Meeting Room 🗝️

An imposing stone fireplace with Latin phrases carved into the mantel

Worn leather armchairs circled around a low table set with tarnished silver

The air thick with pipe smoke and burning incense

Shelves lined with ancient masks, ceremonial daggers, and dusty alchemical tomes

Shadows dancing on the tapestry-covered walls in the candlelight

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

@errorunfound1

Yandere!neglectful!Batfam x mom!reader

Wayne Manor had always felt vast, but to you, it was more of a void than a home. It was easy to get lost in its endless hallways, in the constant hum of life orbiting Bruce’s nocturnal mission. You married him for love, despite knowing the weight of the life he led. You accepted his scars, his mission, his world. But what you hadn’t expected was how little space there would be left for you in it.

Bruce was always out, chasing shadows, leaving you to navigate a family that seemed determined to keep you at arm’s length. You poured your heart into them—Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian—but your efforts were met with indifference at best and disdain at worst. You had been a mother in every way that mattered, yet the coldness you received in return made your heart ache.

“You don’t have to act like you care,” Jason sneered once when you tried to patch him up after patrol. “We both know you’re just here for him.”

Tim barely acknowledged you unless it was necessary, his head buried in his work. Dick’s smiles, once genuine, now felt like politeness masking discomfort. And Damian, always the sharpest, had no qualms about cutting you down. “You’re not my mother,” he’d said, his words a dagger that twisted in your chest.

Bruce never intervened. When you tried to tell him, his responses were dismissive. “They’ll come around,” he’d say before disappearing into the night. But they never did.

So, you stayed quiet, swallowing the hurt, letting it fester.

One night, you stood in the empty dining room, staring at the cold, untouched dinner you’d prepared. The clock ticked on the wall, counting the hours Bruce was late. Again. You could hear the faint hum of voices from the Batcave below, the family gathered around him while you sat alone.

It wasn’t anger that bubbled up this time. It was resignation.

You left that night, not with a dramatic goodbye, but with a simple bag and a note left on the kitchen counter.

“I love you, but I can’t keep losing myself in a family that doesn’t want me.”

The days without you passed unnoticed at first. Bruce buried himself in his work, assuming you needed time to cool off. The Batkids carried on as usual, their lives too busy to miss the quiet presence you’d once provided.

It was Alfred who noticed first—the meals left uneaten, the flowers on the windowsill wilting. “Sir,” he said carefully one evening, “she’s not coming back.”

Bruce stopped mid-step, his expression flickering. “She just needs time.”

But days turned into weeks, and the absence became impossible to ignore. The manor felt colder, emptier. Jason snapped more often, his temper flaring at the slightest provocation. Tim’s focus wavered, his mistakes piling up in a way they never had before. Damian trained harder, his strikes sharper, but there was a new tension in him, an unease he wouldn’t voice.

“She left us,” Damian said one night, his tone sharp but brittle. “That’s on her.”

“No,” Dick said quietly, guilt heavy in his voice. “It’s on us.”

Bruce found you three weeks later, living in a modest apartment far from the grandeur of Wayne Manor. The door was locked, but that had never been an obstacle for him. He let himself in, his imposing frame filling the doorway as you stood frozen in the kitchen.

“Bruce,” you said, your voice tight.

“Come home.” His tone was soft but firm, the same voice he used to give orders in the field.

Your laugh was bitter, hollow. “Home? That place hasn’t felt like home in years.”

His jaw tightened, the only sign of his frustration. “You belong there. With me. With them.”

“I belonged there once,” you said, your voice breaking. “But I spent years trying to love a family that couldn’t love me back. Do you even realize how much it hurt, Bruce? To be invisible in my own home?”

He stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate. “I didn’t see it. I should have. But I’m here now.”

“Too late,” you whispered, tears spilling over.

But Bruce Wayne was not a man who gave up easily. His hand reached out, brushing against yours. “You think I’ll let you go that easily?” His voice dropped, a dangerous edge slipping into his tone. “You’re mine. You always have been.”

You pulled away, shaking your head. “You don’t love me, Bruce. You love control. You love having someone waiting for you. But I won’t be that person anymore.”

The silence between you was heavy, suffocating. His eyes bore into yours, and for a moment, you thought he might let you go. But Bruce was nothing if not persistent.

“You’re coming home,” he said, his voice soft but unyielding.

Before you could respond, his hand shot forward, pressing a syringe into your arm. The sharp sting was followed by a wave of dizziness, and your legs buckled.

“Bruce,” you gasped, your vision swimming as he caught you.

“It’s for your own good,” he murmured, his arms cradling you as darkness pulled you under.

(A/n: this is why I don't take money 😅 writing shi asf 😔🔥 chat did I cook or am I cooked?)

[solxamber]

Could I request Diasomnia with a partner who's a smithy? Besides weapons, they can also craft tools, kitchenware, tableware, jewelry, armour, and anything else made of metal.

thank you for waiting this long <3

Diasomnia with a Blacksmith! Reader

Malleus Draconia – The Dragon Prince’s Personal Artisan

The first time he visits your forge, he’s utterly enchanted—not by the flames, but by you. Watching you work, hammering molten metal with such skill, is far more mesmerizing than any spellwork.

He commissions you to craft him a custom weapon, but it turns into a long-standing habit. Now, you’ve made him jewelry, ornate goblets, and a ridiculously expensive teapot set because he wanted to see how you’d do it.

Gets lowkey jealous of the things you make. “You spend so much time crafting weapons for others. Shouldn’t your finest work belong to me?”

Definitely flexes your work in his hoard. Will absolutely hoard you too if given the chance.

If you try to gift him something small and personal—like a pendant or a signet ring—he gets unreasonably soft about it. You just handed this ancient dragon prince a trinket, and now it’s his most prized possession.

Lilia Vanrouge – Chaos Gremlin Patron

"Ah, metalwork! I was quite the smith in my youth!" he says, as he spectacularly fails to make a dent in a copper sheet.

He is the most annoying client because he commissions the weirdest things. Once asked you to make him a sword with a detachable spoon. He used it to eat soup at a war camp.

Always hanging upside down in your forge, asking too many questions. “What does this do? Can I touch it? Oh? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You make him a personalized dagger with his name etched in glowing runes, thinking he’d use it in battle. He instead uses it to cut vegetables while cooking. (It’s the only reason the vegetables survive his cooking.)

But when it comes down to it, Lilia deeply respects your craft. If he ever gifts you anything, it’s always materials from far-off lands, rare ores, and enchanted metals that sing under your hammer.

Absolutely goes feral if anyone tries to disrespect your work. You won’t even know what happened. One moment, someone is criticizing your craftsmanship—next moment, they’re pale, shaking, and handing you money while Lilia smiles behind them.

Silver Vanrouge – The Knight Who Always Falls Asleep Near Your Forge

He respects your work immensely but has terrible luck visiting you. He always falls asleep while waiting.

You once found him passed out against your anvil. You almost clocked him with a hammer thinking he was a burglar.

But the best part? He sleeps like an absolute angel in the most inconvenient spots. On your workbench? Yup. Leaning against a suit of armor? Done. Balanced on a pile of metal ingots? How??

When he’s awake, though, he’s very earnest about learning. He wants to understand how to take care of his weapons, so he often asks you to teach him maintenance techniques.

You sharpen his sword once, and he treats it like you personally saved his life. He insists that your work makes him faster and sharper in battle.

If he ever sees you working late, he’ll gently put a cloak over you and tell you to rest. But if you refuse? Fine. He’ll sit next to you and fall asleep while pretending to keep you company.

Sebek Zigvolt – Loudest Supporter, Most Aggressive Customer

"HUH?! YOU FORGE METAL?! INCREDIBLE! ASTOUNDING! I SHALL ONLY COMMISSION FROM YOU!!!” (You are now his personal smith. You had no say in this.)

He demands the strongest, most unbreakable weapons. You make him a sword once, and he treats it like it's a divine relic.

Tries to act like he’s too dignified to be impressed, but the first time he sees you pull molten metal from the forge, his jaw drops.

You gift him a custom sword with his family crest, and he is red in the face. "W-WHAT?! THIS IS—HOW DID—FOR ME?!?!” You swear you saw sparkles around his head.

Complains about you “wasting time” making non-weaponry, but secretly loves everything you make. Once, you gave him a metal drinking flask for travel, and he now refuses to use anything else.

Will loudly threaten anyone who disrespects your craft, even if they didn’t say anything. Someone casually mentions a blacksmith in another town? Sebek immediately starts yelling: "THEY CANNOT POSSIBLY MATCH MY CRAFTSMAN!!!”

He also secretly admires your patience and dedication. Late at night, when you’re working under the dim glow of the forge, he just watches in quiet awe. Sometimes, he forgets to yell.

Masterlist