#hes horrible and tortured bc hes gay

[starscourgc]

elden ring oc finally💥💥‼️‼️

his names leyton, ex-carian knight and The most tortured guy in the land’s between. doing his questline ends with him willingly being eaten by radahn :D

the talisman he ends up dropping, the onyx brooch, reads:

“A brooch wrought in obsidian and stardust, the grade of craftsmanship all but lost to earthly carnage. Its visage pays homage to the beast regent Serosh.

Bestowed upon a champion by his beloved general on the eve of a bygone battle, testament to a lifetime of unwavering devotion. Boosts gravitational sorcery.”

[lord-squiggletits]

Lmao I just wrote a manifesto about IDW OP but now I'm in the mood to write one about Pharma and the dumb obsessive stalker ex trope too

Actually no wait I can do it in one sentence

Fellas is it obsessive stalker behavior to want revenge on your ex best friend for stealing your hands and then leaving you to die in a frozen wasteland without even bothering to look for your dead body to confirm you died (and he calls you a horrible person and a terrible Autobot while standing next to an ex-Decepticon who killed thousands)

[johannestevans]

obsessed with the villain's spoilt boyfriend who never actually does anything ~evil~ himself and is mostly just… cooed over and spoilt and praised and loved on by the villain

and the villain will absolutely just. kill everyone who makes him FROWN, let alone hurt him

and on the one hand there's this idea of the boyfriend as the villain's weakness bc he's obviously besotted with him - and everyone wants to believe the villain is being manipulated bc the boyfriend is younger etc but the boyfriend does seem. equally obsessed with him

and I'm obsessed w like. how it appears that the villain, whatever it is he does, whether he's a mob boss or a supervillain or whatever, keeps the truth of his position out of the boyfriend's awareness, bc the boyfriend is a good person and would leave

you know, the villain kills and tortures people etc - the boyfriend probably pets stranger's dogs and cries if someone kills a moth in front of him

so obsessed with law enforcement or the villain's enemies like. targeting the the boyfriend to be a mole for the villain

and to inform on him bc don't you feel betrayed by him being a villain? don't you want to help all the people he kills?

and the boyfriend who in this meeting sobs his heart out and says how horrible it is and how he feels so betrayed

and then goes into the villain's office, calmly wipes his tears off, and says "you know, some cops UPSET me today by asking me to spy on you :("

and the villain who. was also under the impression that his (well loved!) airhead of a boyfriend had no idea what he did for a living

and goes "… oh? really?"

and the boyfriend literally just pouting like "yeah. :( make it better?"

and the villain like. jesus christ this is so hot yes I'll kill them all

and boyfriend just. beaming like an angel and sitting in his lap

I'm literally thinking of the boyfriend as having the same vibe as brian jordan alvarez in the Gay Age Gap sketches

not the relationship! but just. that's how he talks and holds himself

[useless-donut]

so i was messing around with astarion and the description for his camp clothes includes a POEM HE EMBROIDERED ON IT he is so cute such a cute little gay

anyway as someone bent on cataloging everything he approves of, i have a decent grasp of what he likes and dislikes (at least in act 1, im almost to act 2) and it can SEEM contradictory but my thoughts and also spoilers below

sometimes hes just being a brat, like when he likes when you care for the owlbear cub, but also likes when you poke a dying bird to death (my theory here is less that he loves animals/hates them and more that he enjoys the chaos of an owlbear pet)

so generally speaking, he's pretty forgiving of a good (ish) path for a generally evil character, though if i had to pick an alignment, i'd say he's something like chaotic selfish

then there's the whole disliking any sympathy/aid for the deep gnomes/prisoners in general which had me thinking because we all know the cazador situation but here are my unorganized thoughts

astarion was jumped by a group of Gur & essentially killed

his "savior" was a vampire who enslaved and tortured him for 200 years

so it stands to reason that

he has a significant distrust & dislike of "saviors" in general, both because no one saved him and moreso because when someone DID it was horrible

he also dislikes heroics not so much because he's evil, but because they are a) boring and b) heroes are people like the Blade of the Frontiers/Wyll, the monster hunter, all of these are people who typically want to kill him for what he is

OF COURSE he disapproves whenever you act heroic/saviory, it's showing you're the type of person he categorically mistrusts

and also re: the gnome issue, i think he's also just really really BITTER. he doesn't want other people saved because fuck saviors and heroes, right? let everyone rot because everyone let him rot

(this is all just my fun little conjecture/headcanons based on what we know in act 1, i am ready to stand corrected)

anyway, we know he does have a soft side and even though he is very leery of deep bonds (jokingly says "i love you," gets weird and suspicious whenever you're altruistic to him), he does appreciate kindness. and i really think he's getting fond of the party despite himself

i'm hoping we will get a cazador betrayal arc bc itll be so dramatic and heartbreaking itll be so funnnn

but yeah imo he is a bitter, traumatized person who is self-interested by matter of necessity and very reasonably wants vengeance. BUT he is also someone who deeply appreciates being alive, and enjoying things like sunlight and poetry and even your company. and he deeply mourns everything he's lost along the way 🥺 AND DESPITE IT ALL HE IS SO SILLY AND "GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE FUN" ENERGY HOW CAN PPL NOT LIKE HIM

anyway ill be burning down all of faerun if he needs me to

[blackbird-brewster]

CM Unpopular Opinions

Just a couple of weeks out from the new season, the new trailer just dropped, and people are getting hyped. For last season, I made a CME predictions post (which mostly came to pass, bc this show is so predictable) -- but this season, I'm going to post some unpopular opinions going into S17. Don't like, don't read.

WILL. Since we know Will won't be in this season, there have been speculations that JJ/Will will be getting a divorce, or that Will is going to die. I do NOT want Will to die. I hate that guy, I've never liked his character, but you know who I do love? JJ. She has already been through SO much, I do NOT want Hotch 2.0 in S17. I don't want Will to die, because that would be like ripping half of JJ's soul out of her chest and she deserves better. What I actually think will happen -- is just that Will is going back to being an off-screen partner like he was for most of the series.

JEMILY. I've already written my thoughts on Paget's Jemily hints on social media and why I think that's simply queerbaiting. There's no way Jemily is going to be canon, and I am HAPPY about that. I don't want Jemily to be canon!! Look at how this show treats canon relationships!! How many female romantic interests have been tortured and killed???? Why would I ever want Jemily in that crossfire? Also, as a fanfic author who has been writing Jemily for the past decade -- I don't want them to become canon, because that will squander so much creative potential. Fic authors fill in the gaps and subtext of canon, that's our job, when a relationship becomes canon it really loses it's appeal. That being said, I would love to actually see Emily and JJ interacting again. S16 really ignored their decade-long friendship altogether. Shit, I would love to just see them in the same fricking scene again.

REBECCA. All I want is for Rebecca to survive this season. As mentioned above, the way this show treats romantic interests of main characters is HORRIBLE. I'm forever furious with how the show handled Tara/Rebecca's relationship last season. I know fans hated Rebecca for getting pissed at Tara, but I still don't agree. What I do hate is how as soon as Tara's queerness served it's plot point (getting the inmate to admit he's gay too) -- the show nuked Tara's relationship altogether. I seriously love Rebecca, I think she adds a lot to the show. And since we already know Rebecca is in S17, I would LOVE to see Tara/Rebecca sit down and actually talk through their issues (like real adults!). I would LOVE for them to get the happy ending they deserve.

GARCIA'S ROMANCE. For real, I do not care about any of this love triangle bullshit with Garcia between Tyler and Luke or whatever tf is happening. I seriously hated what they did to Garcia's character in S16, it felt like they completely erased the prior 15 years from her character and replaced it with the most basic hetnormative romance plot. I don't ship Garvez (nor her and Tyler), so I don't really care about that side of things. But I would LOVE to get our Garcia back. I miss her so much.

RETURNING CHARACTER RUMORS. If one of the past cast members comes back in S17 I do not want it to be MGG. CME already focused an entire season on Rossi's man-pain (literally the only reason they killed Krystal was for him to be angry 🙃). I do NOT want another season of white-male centric plot lines (even though that's clearly what's gonna happen with Voight) If anyone actually comes back to guest, I want it to either be Matt or Derek. Alternatively, I do have a crack theory that the unsub/Gold Star is actually Elle Greenaway. A trained government assassin, she became a vigilante after leaving the BAU and she's been operating for all these years without detection. Now THAT would be a good twist.

Listen, overall, I'm not looking forward to another season of Evolution. I think they're trying way too hard to turn CM into some edgy, gritty, Norwegian-type crime drama and in doing so, they've ruined some of my favourite characters irrevocably. I don't have high hopes for S17.

[quartztwst]

The Yuri fluff manga you told us to read is completed and I finished it, in a day.. what else would you recommend.? Just curious.

my friend would hate me for this but

read BLUE FLAG

its about gay boys and their sexuality ill have to reread it again but it explores sexuality and same sex attraction and stuff it made me cryyyyyy

ANOTHER RECOMMENDATION is I’M IN LOVE WITH THE VILLAINESS

i love claire so much you should read it. its about a girl that has been isekai’d into her favorite otome game but she’s not into any of the boys BUT SHE’S INTO THE VILLAINESS AND SHE’S SO RIGHT Claire’s so cute i love her. there’s an anime and manga bc it’s actually a light novel. I LOVE YOU CLAIRE I LOVEEEE YOUUU MWA MWA! i’m also so into the tsundere girl troupe im so weird

also there’s incest going on but it’s only for a bit and it’s none of the main characters (just a warning bc it also got me confused)

BRO BRO BRO BRO BRO BRO BRO BRO

HEAR ME OUT RIGHT NOW

YOU RIGHT NOW read

READ MISS GUILLOTINE

it’s not a manga BUT A WEBCOMIC AND MANHWA

I read it when I was younger because I thought it was about pretty magical girls

I MEAN IT IS ABOUT MAGICAL GIRLS but there’s a dark twist to it PLEASE READ IT I LOVE IT SO MUCCCHHAA SA HDOHSADFKJAH also i dont think it’s safe if you dont like death and blood and dark shit but it’s not too bad

there’s just a lot of bad people

for a short read,

here’s brutal satsujin kansatsukan no kokuhaku

THERE’S A LOT OF DEATH AND MURDER AND DARK TOPICS IN THIS SO PLEASE BE WARNED BEFORE READING THIS

THAT INCLUDES R@PE AND @BUSE

It’s about this cop and he’s basically a serial killer but he only kills people that are horrible people and criminals.

he’s actually really nice to good people and regular citizens but he kills and tortures bad people.

and ummm i found him kinda.. fineeee i mean likeeee teheeeee…

this manga is a spinoff off of another manga called Brutal I think but this one is good if you want to see justice served in a BRUTAL way.

also he’s kinda silly

OKAY LET’S GET OUT OF THE DARK TOPICS AND INTO SOMETHING SIMPLE AND SOFT

I introduce you to A Bouquet for an Ugly Girl

SHE’S NOT EVEN UGLY SHE’S SO CUTE

IUGHSJIFHALHO

anyways this is about a cute romance about a girl that finds herself not really attractive but she manages to be friends with the most popular guy in school (omg!! so cliche!!) but he’s actually nice guy and they have feelings for eachother

there’s more recommendations but there’s nothing i can come up with at the top of my head

[mutsky]

myatb ep 7&8

-ok are both the dad and the twink lackey who gets a bf in the side couple named jinbao/jin bao? bc thats confusing are they different tones/spellings in chinese?

-dont point a sword at a kid :(

-dont hurt hauiens twink only he can do that

-bitten by countless ants is a terrible threat tbh

-ok but look how pretty his shoulders and clavicle are

-he feels his pain :(

-unethical? you torture and kill people!

-i forgot about the arranged hetero wedding

-olivia rodrigo voice DO YOU GET DEJA VU

-poor suyin second lead syndrome is gonna hit him like a truck

-"ill kill him" "i dont think you can" damn ok xiaobao

-"we were friends" WHAT KIND OF FRIENDS

-"anything to repay you" youre gonna go back to your toxic ex

-no idea whats going on rn theyre all just traveling

-ohhh theyre lying i hate the brother henchmen ngl

-possessiveness and jealousy are his super powers 💞

-try him i dare you he thinks his husband is with another man nothing is gonna stop him

-:(((((((

-huaiens no good all bad horrible epidode

-ohhh here comes this bitch

ep 8

-it looks like hes wearing sneakers

-lets wait for him to die 😭

-this stupid ass cure

-oh so all these men can make him sleep easy oh i see

-how does he know the twink

-he asked for the twink in payment 😭😭😭

-"hobbies" you mean gay sex???

-what talents?

-although jinbao isn't intelligent hes pretty 😭

-something is seriously wrong w suyin you wanna be the dom and the cuck? damn

-they are so connected 💖

-"one last thing" thats what you said last time!

-ok so the fun lasted all of 5 minutes

-nosy ass

-oh so we can do little quests for the dahlias

-oh! whats this

-isnt this guy homophobic

-i doubt their kung fu skills

-learned kung fu from him so it is bad

-we will be best friends forever

-"hes my best friend" this guy is everyones best friend sans shaoyu obviously

-FINALLY HUSBAND AND WIFE REUNITED AND THE EP ENDS

-at least im so behind i only have time to wait two days

[foiblepnoteworthy]

uhh psa about the last of us

Well I'm replaying The Last of Us and it comes out on Sunday so imma write a little trigger warning list for anyone who might need it bc it is a kinda dark game and the show looks like it's gonna be faithful. Might not all be accurate to the show, but here's how the game goes down. 

I tried to limit the spoilers but i did not do a good job, as there were times I thought it best to be very specific. If you read this you will basically know who dies in the game and how (ie i say ‘x’ happens to the gay man, well, there’s not many main character gay men).

I’d still advise checking out the first paragraph or so if you’re the sort to read trigger warnings

feel free to send me an ask if you want more details on anything, and apologies if i forgot anything

also here’s a link to the ‘does the dog die’ page for tlou game, in which people have asked about and discussed triggers in the game. might work better for you.

Preface: 

The biggest triggers are gun violence and suicide. They appear a lot throughout the game. There is also an attempted grooming of a child. 

If gun violence or suicide are triggers you probably shouldn’t watch it. The grooming will likely be confined to one episode, which you may be able to simply skip. If you don’t think any of these will bother you at all, maybe best leave this list so you can avoid spoilers, as I’m going to go into a bit more detail for anyone on the fence.

The game is pretty diverse, for a video game at least, which means that there are gay characters, women, and characters of colour being hurt. This is more because this is a story where people get hurt than because of biases of the writers I would say, but it's open to debate. If you’re sick of seeing characters who are like you dying horribly, you might wanna leave it. A lot of people die horribly in this story, including children.

(Notes: 

There’s a good chance I’ve missed something. I may have forgotten something that happened, or a common trigger. There may be things in the show that didn’t appear in the game. 

I’ve included headers to help navigate and skip spoilers if you wanna look more closely at just one of those topics.

There is an ‘other’ section at the bottom if you’ve got something else you’re concerned about, or you can check out the ‘does the dog die’ page. There shouldn’t be too many spoilers there.

I will specify race, age, gender, and/or sexuality of characters when relevant here. I.e. I think it’s relevant to say when a child specifically is harmed, or a black character specifically is threatened with a gun. I hope this is the correct and respectful way to do this, I’m open to critique.

I am being blunt in my descriptions. 

I am not trigger starring any of my words. 

When I say a character is ‘named’, I mean that they’ve been on screen for a bit and the audience probably cares about them.)

Guns and violence:

There are lots of guns, naturally. Not only are zombies shot at but people too, lots of people, by the protag and his allies, and there is an organised militia killing people. 

There is a scene where the character discuss the military deliberately killing masses of unarmed civilians seeking refuge (bodies onscreen).

In the opening scene a soldier shoots and kills a named child. There is a later scene where a named black boy is shot and killed by another named character. 

Joel is notably proficient with killing, and has killed innocents in the past. He frequently kills zombies and gangs trying to hurt him. He may fire first or attack people unaware - this is usually out of self-defence, after being given reason to assume they will hurt him if given the chance. 

There is a scene where Joel threatens to shoot a named defenceless black man. There is a scene where he does shoot and kills an unarmed named black woman. 

A named character once pointed a gun at Joel while visibly very mentally unstable (shock, not mental illness).

There is a scene wherein Joel tortures two unnamed men.

Characters see bodies quite often and find notes from them the player can read. They’re set dressing, they’re just there in the street, a lot of them go unburied, and they also feel like real people due to the notes. 

There is a grave of a very small child. 

Grooming:

A character attempts to groom Ellie while she’s separated from Joel. 

He seems genuinely trustworthy at the start - I liked him when I first played it, and I saw his first untrustworthy moment, wherein he had pretended he didn’t have a gun when he secretly did, as kinda funny/charming. It made sense in context okay

He is genuinely unsettling. Exactly what he wants from Ellie is unspecified. The groomer is also a cult leader and a cannibal, and after she refuses him and breaks his finger he decides to eat her. They have a very violent confrontation.

Suicide:

The named characters committing suicide include a woman (death mostly offscreen, technically was a self-sacrifice but also not really, discussion of her intent onscreen); a gay man (death offscreen, method, body and note onscreen); and a black man (death onscreen).

The first kill of the game, should the player choose to accept it, is a mercy kill of someone who has been infected. 

There is a scene wherein an unnamed man leaves a recorder with his note and also some valuable intel and Joel skips past his note, clearly annoyed at the man, to get to the intel. The man’s body has decomposed to a skeleton and there is a clear hole in his skull.

There was a scene where Joel and Ellie saw the bodies of people who had killed themselves and discussed why people might do it in a post-apocalyptic society - fear of a horrible death, essentially, from zombies, infection, starvation, or gangs. Depression was not mentioned but could be considered implied as a reason - it could be taken as an implication that Joel had considered it before.

Joel finds a note from someone who was hiding children from infected. With no way out, they killed the children, covered the bodies with blankets, and killed themself. The bodies are onscreen.

A named character killed himself as a knee-jerk reaction to the death of a loved one. 

A(n implied) gay man killed himself because he was infected, which I don't think was intended as a parallel to aids but it can be read that way.

Other:

There are moments where the zombies are somewhat humanized - the Fireflies wear dog tags, meaning that after killing a zombie you can sometimes find out their name and figure out who they were. Maybe you even read a letter belonging to them earlier. Idk this is just kinda fucked up, creeped me out.

Death of a horse (onscreen, named, violent)

Animal hunting (for food) 

The zombies are genuinely quite creepy

idk the university holdout kinda upset me, these kids were waiting for people to come for them and no one bothered and now they’ve been dead for years. 

A lot of the architecture is ruined and dangerous, might bother people with a germ phobia (I doubt anyone’s had a tetanus shot in ages), or with claustrophobia or agoraphobia. 

I’ve probably missed something. 

[whumpitisthen]

here's a quick rundown on astarion: gay vampire spawn (not a vampire. like a demo version vampire. a "lesser" one but don't let him hear that) who has been kept for 200 years by his master as a slave. guy (who was an actual vampire) carved him up, tortured him and forced him to lure victims into his manor. astarion has been abused in so many ways i'd hit some sort of character limit if i listed half of them. he was only allowed to feet on rats and small vermin in the sewers. poor little meow meow astarion is now free due to [game story] reasons and seeks power and revenge -- he's an edgy fuck with a lot of swag and no moral compass. bro is a menace and loves causing problems on purpose. [slight spoiler] he will literally try to suck some of your blood like a day or two after you meet him and unless you succeed a skill check he'll just keep doing it until you die. if you resurrect yourself afterwards he'll go like "ooooh ooopsie sowwy! i wouldn't kill you if i knew you'll be back teehee can we forget about this? ;) <3 don't fucking kill me". he's such a good fucking whumpee you don't even know. it's insane. i don't want to ramble but he's almost everything i've ever wanted from a character like this in a large scale rpg. [slightly bigger spoiler] despite being the go-to "fuckable" character who everyone finds hot as hell (both in-universe and online) he's HORRIBLY traumatized by his sexual experiences from when he used to be a slave and when you romance him a good portion of his storyline revolves around trying to make him realize that he's more than just a slab of very attractive meat. he hides his feelings behind a facade of "evil tumblr sexyman-esque" mannierisms and getting to finally peel it back and see him for the poor wet cat that he is is so fucking satisfying. [an even bigger spoiler] i loved watching him cry when he finally gets to confront his former master. pristine content. there's so much more to his character (and this game in general) but if you ever need to justify spending full price on a new videogame release, there's nothing better than bg3. if i could choose one game to beam directly into the brain of each whumpblr user, it'd be this one.

Okay so i already loved him from the very little information i had about him, but this is so delicious

I saw some pics of bad scars which are always hhh and heard that he is a whumpee but i didn't know the extent and now i think ive collected a new blorbo

You are telling me he meets his old master at some point...... and he cries..... and hes all sad....... he rly was made for tumblr but especially me youre telling me he has white hair and is a vampire twink who was a slave and hurt and traumatised and he has incredible sad wet cat energy and he only has a flimsy layer of confidence and absolutely no idea what morals are. i knew i needed to know more you have to understand my knowledge of the game stopped at the bear sex scene like that is it and yet i somehow always find the most pathetic little men no matter what in any media i could not give a shit about any of the rest i will consume the entire thing just to know the exact extent of his sad little life

Also i wish i had the opportunity to even consider buying a full price new release no matter how good the game is there is no world in which id be able to pay for that. Also idk about the gameplay either it seems very story oriented roleplay and almost dating sim-ish? Not a huge fan of those in general its gotta have more gameplay than walking around and basically watching a movie, but, again. No idea about anything, maybe it has incredible gameplay and i just dont know. Dont tell me if it does itll just make ms sadder bc that would absolutely make me wanna play it myself. Its kinda funny honestly the longer i spend not knowing anything the crazier everyone seems to me both online and irl. Its like im living in a separate world, i know no one who hasn't played this fucking game fjfhskhfd

[rawstfish]

Yes talk to us about Ghost's "love life" 🙏

YES LETS GOOO

I'm going to be using the comic for Ghosts background, and also I headcanon Ghost as gay.

I think during his high school years is where he had a lot of flings and just horrible relationships. He was having a shit time in general, so he was using men to get a short time of satisfaction. I can imagine him having one actual boyfriend, but it being a huge toxic mess on both of their parts. I know Ghosts mental state as a teenager was fucking awful, it still is but slightly better.

After high school, he kinda stopped having sex and getting into relationships. He was focusing on joining the military and getting his training done. He was using training as his outlet at the time. Over working himself to the point of passing out or throwing up everything he ate that day. However after that, he went right back to fucking whoever was of interest to him. I don't think you could have stopped him. This went on until he got caught up with the Cartel. Kinda hard to think about fucking when your being tortured and your whole family died. I think he once again fell into a "no sex" phase after killing Roba.

He started using training and even missions as his outlet once again. His whole body would constantly be covered in scars, and he would kill his targets in the worst way possible. He was also keeping himself busy so he wouldn't have time to think about anything but his mission. It wasn't until he met Mace that this was kinda put on a halt. Now his and Maces relationship was doomed from the beginning. Ghost was using Mace to feel better, and Mace was using Ghost to feel better. It started off as just sparring and beating the absolute shit out of each other. But both of them felt something more as this went on, and eventually, they were a "couple." I'm using couple very loosely here. They were constantly on and off. Always getting mad at one another, but never actually able to leave the other. It wasn't until Mace fled from his PMC group that they were "official" broken up.

Official is in quotation marks because they are both still very involved with each other. Ghost has seen Mace after his PMC days and vise verse. They still talk on messages and even coms (This canon that they still bicker and fight btw. It's from a piece of Intel found in Warzone, but you literally can't get it anymore bc of Black Ops Cold War). Ghost is now quite literally whoring around because I think he still has feelings for Mace. He can fuck other dudes but he can not be in a relationship with them because they aren't Mace. Mace understands Ghost. No one can handle Ghost like Mace can. This is also vise verse. So, for me, I think Ghost only plans to fuck Soap and not go any further. He's flirting with him, yes, but it's so he can get his dick wet. Soap, however, generally likes and wants to date Ghost, but he could never handle Ghost like Mace can.

[aptenodykes]

🌩️storm-troopest Follow

Saw someone talk about how the First Order is homophobic but that general and the sith lord who ruin my life are literally gay???

👷🏿‍♀️maimntenance Follow

No bc who tf is this fuckass white man they hired???

#ugly white guy AND blonde???? #pick a struggle you freak

🐧 oldfriendsseniorporgsanctuary Follow

I just want to get dicked down again =/

🥷🏻xXxKyb3rCryzt4lzxXx Follow

Ughhhh fuck my stupid master :\\\\ Wish he would get off my case about this mission but I swear to the force he acts like its life or death! If its so important do it yourself

👨🏽‍🔬Resist-pants Follow

Umm everyone reblogging this with sympathy needs to understand that @.xXxKyb3rCryzt4lzxXx is literally Kylo Ren of the First Order and personally killed my family. You are all sympathizing with a war criminal. Do better

🥷🏻xXxKyb3rCryzt4lzxXx Follow

Wow. Force forbid I have a bad day and want to vent.

🚀sadbtch-badbtch Follow

Trying to focus on this Resistance meeting but I'm too busy staring at Han Solo's ass. Like damn king, save some cake for the rest of us.

👨🏽‍🔬Resist-pants Follow

Hey This is @.Wompakinz posting on behalf of Tazym. I just wanted to let you know that they will no longer be posting as Kylo Ren came back to finish the job. Ive been grappling this loss and I'll try to post more when I have the spoons but for now I've started a gocreditme for their funeral

#tw murder #tw death #steka dont look

🧙🏻‍♂️Force-User-Polls Follow

#if yoda wins im deleting my blog

👤exposingthegingerguy-deactivated-350512006 Follow

Call out post for @.thegingerguy for being a First Order operative who is pretending to be a resistance pilot to gain information about resistance members and use it to violently overthrow and colonize star systems.

TW for espionage, war crimes, homophobia, victim blaming, torture, mind control, manipulation, kink shaming, and general bad vibes.

Read More

👸🏻ImperialFashionArchive Follow

On this day, Padmé Amidala's handmaiden, Sabé debuted the black travelling gown during the invasion of Naboo. It was designed with karlini silks and incorporated the symbol of the royal house of Naboo.

#honestly best padme look #ik it wasnt her but iconique #wouldve given anything to be one of her handmaidens #seemed like a awesome career #too bad I was born decades after the fall of the republic :(

🥷🏻xXxKyb3rCryzt4lzxXx Follow

Boyfriends coming to visit!! Im so excited!!! EEEEEEE!!!!!

#been so long since ive been laid #been having a horrible week #cant wait to get my guts rearranged by all of them

[dasboligrafo]

TheatrePass Diaries: A Little Life at Brooklyn Academy of Music

Heh. Yes, bitch. I saw this one. I have so very many thoughts about this (probably?) good play about a bad, bad book. This placeholder post on the play the Post deemed "the most torturous New York theatre experience ever" to be completed during my next pointless conference call...

Placeholder no more:

First a tally of whats wrong with this play: it's based on a very bad book: it's very, very long; it's stomach-churningly violent; it's so long and violent that it's eventually deadening. It has moments of utter discordance, even cringe, and not just (I think) from adhering to its source material (which, did I mention, is very bad?) The casting occasionally felt like a very large pebble at the bottom of a really hard shoe. There are few (no?) moments of simple pleasure. Some of the audience maybe hadn't read the book and were clearly not sufficiently trigger-warned 😬 The start time did not allow enough after-work hours to get in the right amount of prophylactic drinking (infinity hours?!); I understand why you can't have infinity long intermission, but same. And -- perhaps more seriously than some of these jokey/obviousy grievances -- some of the van Hove choices felt a bit played out.

And yet....

So, one of the reviewers panning the play (lol, all of them) published last month argued that the play was bad bc it kept none of the things they loved about the book, the things that made all of the horrible parts of the story bearable. Straight off, thats a red flag for me. I have trouble imagining any sort of critical reading of this giant WOOF of a book that could be uncomplicatedly enjoyable. The "enjoyable" parts of the book (the non-torture porn parts, I take it), presumably the fucking endless descriptions of the gorgeous, talented (Mary Stu) MCs and their perfect New York lives -- it all reads very much like wealth porn. Without turning this note that's supposed to be about the play into a comprehensive take down of a book I obviously despised, I won't speculate here about the motives of the author (who is not a gay man) in writing a kind of reverse fairy tale with the trajectory of a romance (but no HEA) about the lives of post-AIDS New York gays performing aesthetically flawless lives while awaiting the too-punctual arrival of the reaper. Like, given that they all fucking die at the end whats the enjoyable content here -- descriptions of the natural stone kitchen island countertops they got to use first?!

Van Hove's adaptation dials all that shit way down, reducing it to mostly plot turns (the really gay one has a painting in the MOMA!) and mildly annoying/ridiculous exposition ("Oh my God, Jude [played by an actor on the wrong side of 40s], your sylph-like beauty!"). What he doesn't fucking dial down like at all is the violence, taking it brashly, unflinchingly, to a cartoonish, cringeful nadir -- the scene when Dr Evil runs over Jude's legs with his car, depicted on stage by a sort of comically large headlight-style lamp and Jude's gratingly childish screams.

Thinking about the assemblage of directorial choices, I can't help but conclude (hope springs eternal?) that van Hove found this book as weird and problematic as some of us. Like, I don't think van Hove doesn't know what a hot dude is. Ffs, I don't even think they were wearing boxer briefs in the sex scenes! (you know exactly what I'm talking about.) I don't think van Hove thought playing an Arcade Fire song as a moment of joyous, fun catharsis wasn't weird and jarring. I don't think he thought his play wasn't sheer fucking torture without a moment of pleasurable relief.

Because his critics are right, you know. The book has parts in it that are fun, even enjoyable to read, and I think that's absolutely crazy! It's the ultimate authorial gotcha, making you like reading about bougie shit to the point you forget about child sex slavery, and this author is no Nabokov.

There's also the matter of precedent: van Hove's adaptation of The Fountainhead, an equally immoral/boring af veritable tome that simply nobody should read, ever. That play was 3+ hours long and featured, in its closing act, an on-stage clock measuring the excruciating duration of Howard Roark's final monologue (15+ minutes that might as well be 1,000 after 3 hours).

Sidebar -- a finance bro type got an usher to demand *in the middle of the play* that I show my ticket to prove I was in my right seat. I never forgot my bitterness over this; I stopped donating to BAM beyond the basic member level after that. Like, did you even watch the play?! (@ the usher, I know the bro definitely enjoyed the book.)

I gotta wrap this up I guess. A Little Life the play is not boring -- though this being my 7th or 8th van Hove, the giant on-stage Box of Doom didn't surprise quite as much as it might have. Yet-- even though I wasn't surprised, its descent, like a giant, gliding bell jar, in the play's final act, was still devastating. I wept disconsolately, slumped in my seat, through the final 5 minutes and the awkward standing ovation. I asked myself why I bought tickets to the torture show about a book I hated. I guess if i believe my theory that van Hove also hated the book, I'm at least not alone. Is that good theatre?

And -- it's possible that I don't get this book and van Hove actually liked it. I know a lot of people (including, notably, several gay men) who unironically enjoyed -- even loved -- this book. I accept there's a dimension of melodrama/stigmata-passion play pastiche that resonates with certain gay audiences that I don't find personally accessible.

If that's true, then the play was a failure, because you hate every second of it, and then there's no thought experiment facet to analyze after the fact to palliate the horror.

But is it, nevertheless, good theatre?

[abigail-nicole]

Season Two

Too bad DS9 was in the 90s bc Julian would be way less annoying if he were openly gay

“Cardassians are defined by their attention to detail” -Garak. This is my favorite quote. Vulcans = logic, Klingons = honor, Cardassians = attention to detail

Everything Julian Bashir says could come out of a Jane Austen novel (derogatory)

DS9 is really making me root for the Cardassians in this war because Bajoran religious fundamentalism is so annoying. Like cmon writers don’t make the nazi knockoffs the more interesting characters

Odo’s cop storyline doesn’t work for me because cops are civilians, and everyone he polices is either a soldier or in a paramilitary organization (Starfleet). His nebulous commitment to Justice doesn’t work because all cultures have different legal systems & impart Justice in very different ways

Jadzia Dax is the H*rmione Gr*nger of DS9

DS9 has way too many stories about shitty little civilizations that I hate. Not enough big interesting alien civilizations like vulcans or Romulans or klingon or borg. Way too many stories about hyper religious tribal societies that would vote Trump

Me, in the shower, to my spouse: “so Star Trek is a utopia, and part of that is because of the prime directive! Because you don’t make contact with a species before they’re warp capable! And your society has to have a certain degree of culture to produce enough astrophysicists to make and maintain warp drive! So these little tribal farming societies…aren’t major players because they’ll never get there, they don’t value things that make warp drive possible! And in the Federation, these planets/societies/peoples are nonentities. They don’t get to play. We don’t have to fuck with their closeminded parochial ideas, because they don’t have warp drive. But the Cardassians, space Nazis on a planet without enough natural resources, are colonizers. They see these little societies and they conquer them. And in DS9 the Federation has to deal with the consequences of that”

Do these people not have to follow the Prime Directive, bc I get the feeling Sisko thinks the Prime Directive only applies to starships

Odo’s obsession with buying Quark’s body when he dies. he brings this up so often. you can fuck him before he dies, Odo

Miles O’Brien is a real star of S2. You go Miles. Go off queen

Did we really get a Replicant episode and we just kill the replicant and everyone moves on

An important question raised by the Replicant episode of DS9: forget “would you fuck your clone”, it’s now “would your wife fuck your clone, or would she find the subtle differences from real you to be offputting and feel wrong”

This episode where a Horrible Bitch tortures Sisko made me really want Sisko to punch a tradwife in the face. Where’s THAT episode of DS9

I was so annoyed by the Tradwife episode of DS9 I had to watch a Lower Decks as a palette cleanser (moopsy again)

QUARK HAS A CARDASSIAN EX GIRLFRIEND WOW THIS EPISODE IS SO GREAT!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dax going full Klingon with a blood oath but not having to actually kill anyone? Please Dax has definitely killed people across seven lifetimes, and belongs to a paramilitary organization in this one. why is this a moral conundrum

The actors playing Cardassians are always doing the Most acting

THE MAQUIS ARE FROM DS9?!?!?! I WAS A VOYAGER BABY I NEVER KNEW THAT

The whole Maquis arc is extremely West Wing

No wonder everyone loves Garak. best pet lizard in all Starfleet. When he was like “and i realized i had become FRIENDS with JULIAN BASHIR and it was truly the lowest point in my life” lolololololololol the biggest “you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid” energy

Okay I read A Stitch in Time after watching The Wire because it’s The Most Episode and WHEW YOU WERE ALL RIGHT THANK YOU ANDREW ROBINSON AND ALEXANDER SIDDIG

DS9 Watch Notes

“Star Trek Deep Space 9: What if the Nazis ran a shopping mall but now they're gone and you have to be in charge of the mall” - my spouse

Season One

I grew up watching Star Trek my entire life. Even like Discovery and Enterprise which no one but my mom liked I’m pretty sure

but somehow my parents, white christian conservatives, didn’t watch DS9……hmmmm

anyway I finally in 2024 started DS9, and we start with an intense hot mess in opposition to every other well-ordered utopian Star Trek

DS9’s instant cast of marginalized characters, a chaotically destroyed space station, Sisko hating Picard??? strong writing choices

“When governments fall, people like me are lined up and shot” -Quark

“Never trust ale from a god-fearing people” - Quark

So DS9 came out in 93-99 … vs 87-94 for TNG, then 95-01 for Voyager. And TNG got all the star trek money because DS9 sure didn’t. Man these special effects are bad

Cool that Sisko and Dax, neither of whom are Bajoran, get to go on a Bajoran spiritual journey. Not weird colonial appropriation vibes at all

Tumblr really wants me to ship garak & bashir and quark & odo…. fine

Julian so excited Garak came and talked to him he went and told all his friends, who all think he’s annoying with no coping skills

I knew Julian was autistic bc tumblr but I wasn’t prepared for how much he’s exactly as annoying as a second year medical student

ACAB includes Odo

You could absolutely do something interesting with the ferengi, because a culture that puts an explicit price on everything and doesn’t believe in the implicit value of things is a great way to do social critique of what a culture implicitly and explicitly values. Too bad Star Trek never does this

For how much there’s Gender in this show, don’t think S1 of DS9 passes the Bechdel test

The best part of DS9 is when the holodeck fantasies come to life and Bashir’s sexy submissive version of Jadzia Dax meets real Dax and she smirks and goes “I understand, I was a young man once”

Odo defines himself in relationship to Quark. what is a cop without his criminal. he wakes up & thinks “what is Quark doing right now.” girl love yourself

I’m really enjoying the cardassians. Aliens on Star Trek tend to be one note. Vulcans love logic, Klingons love honor and battle…. Cardassians are just humans. Plus the cardassians get to be played by good actors and have complex character arcs

The way half the characters say “bazhoran” and “bay-zhor” and half (incl Kira, but not all Bajorans) say Bajor and Bajoran

Jake & Nog friendship is the future liberals (me) want

[suavis]

Never interacting with ST tumblr ever again. Went to the tag after Vol 2 expecting to see posts about the episodes/s5 set up, instead I got

Death threats to Duffer Bros for not making by//er canon

People who don’t support by//er are homophobic

Horrible hate to Mileven fans

Duffer Bros are homophobic for killing Eddie bc “Eddie is gay & they killed him bc they didn’t like Stedd¡e”

We’re sick & tired of El, she shouldn’t be focused on in s5, instead Will & Mike

Mike’s speech to El is out of character, he doesn’t love her

El is boring & her abuse for her entire life isn’t comparable to Will, his unrequited love for Mike is worse than her torture

Mike should’ve died instead of Eddie & he’s homophobic to Will, Mike is the worst person in the show

I’m also not interacting with ST tumblr again bc of the white mlm fetishizers. Billy was clearly racist to Lucas & abusive to Max (I understand he was abused but that doesn’t excuse his racism and horrid treatment of Max) but yet Steve & Billy is a popular ship. If Lucas was white, we’d see more Lucas/Dustin. But we don’t. Women are also always pushed to the side for mlm ships, so many posts diminish El for by//er

LITERALLY you’ve encompassed everything i hate abt the fandom 💀 it’s never really surprising when fandoms only care abt bland white men they can hc as gay/bi and then fetishize but truly the attempted character assassination of multiple whole ass children bc they don’t play into their specific narratives they want is extra foul.

i thought st*ddie was cute in passing at first but then the fans and esp eddie fans started acting Like That and i was outta there 💀 ain’t no way they thought it was going to end any other way have the ever watched this show before??? like he was fun but ultimately he was just some guy that some ppl in this fandom care more abt than MAX who’s been around for three seasons now like make it make sense???? and same with billy stans they just choose to ignore full on racism like i saw one say they did believe he was racist but still liked him 💔 truly no saving them the way y’all will cape for random white men even if they’re racist and abusive…… ur not seeing heaven

and YES the way this fandom passes over the black characters (the very few that exist 🥴) is sooooo…. obvious truly. billy apologists are obviously the worst of em but. if will had been in love with lucas and he’d been acting like mike first of all there wouldn’t even be a quarter as many shipper and second lucas would have been eviscerated 💔 people’s priorities in this fandom could not be clearer tbh

and people’s hatred of eleven is so transparent 💀 if she wasn’t in the way of that certain ship nobody would give a fuck but instead they’ll say she’s just his beard, she’s aroace/lesbian (which obvi i support hcs like this wholeheartedly but when the ONLY purpose is to try to make it so she couldn’t possibly be attracted to mike and so now will can have him???? gtfo), she looks like a man (which is mentioned MULTIPLE times in the b*ler slideshow LMAO make it make sense….. i’m a woman with short hair does that make my gf straight???), etc.

also yeah their fixation specifically earlier on the fact that mike couldn’t say i love you to her and then when he finally did it was out of character/him projecting his feelings for will on her??? it’s disrespectful to the characters tbh like the way they characterize mike idek how they like him anymore considering how they seem to believe he’s manipulating eleven AND being an asshole to will while still being in love with him??? i have truly never seen a fandom so deluded over next to zero actual evidence but i wasn’t around in the days of tjlc so 💀 but i’m definitely seeing some similarities LMAO it’s bad like. i think EVERYONE can agree that will is into mike but b*lers seem to think that means mike is going to have to be into will too like. ik they’re still hung up on their middle school/high school straight best friends (or are still IN middle/high school with that straight best friend 💀) and want to think that he’ll get the happy ending they didn’t but. truly i do think will deserves better than this even if mike DOES return his feelings like. they would not be a good couple 💔 here’s to hoping will gets a bf in s5 and all the characters get to be happy for once and b*let fans finally shut up <3

[renecdote]

53+57 for the dumb gay firefighters please? also can I just say how in awe of you I am for breaking out the prompts so good bc daaaamn

53. Mutual Pining

57. Forgotten First Meeting

The night after Eddie meets Buck, he has this dream:

He’s standing on the deck of a ship—a cruise ship, but not the modern kind—with the lights of the boat behind him and the sea stretching out, dark and uninviting, in front. The wind is cold, chilling his nose and ears, but his back is warm, sheltered by a body pressed close, strong arms wrapped around his chest. Eddie can’t see their face, but he imagines—the way one does when dreaming, surely nothing more—that they look like Buck.

There is a prickling feeling at the back of his neck, something almost anxious, something he might tentatively call hindsight. It is just past eleven pm. The night is peaceful. Most of the other passengers are asleep in their cabins.

(Something is about to go horribly wrong.)

“Did you ever think we’d get this far?” the man holding him asks.

“No,” Eddie says. He leans back against the man’s chest, trusting—wanting. Sometimes it feels like these stolen moments are all they have with each other. They’ll be in New York in three days and the moments will be easier to steal then. Eddie already has a job lined up, they’ll rent an apartment together, they’ll live their lives together. They’ll be happy together.

The arms around him tighten, like the thought of them not making it this far is unbearable. Lips press against his cheek, stubble tickling, the connection between them humming with the vibration of a murmured, “I love you.”

Eddie smiles, turning his head so they can kiss properly, nobody but the stars overhead as their witness. It feels easy—familiar—to reply, “I love you too.”

He doesn’t mention the dream. It’s just a dream, right? Even if he keeps having it, or versions of it—dancing under moonlight, giggling and shushing each other as they creep through luxurious corridors, clutching each other while water swirls around their knees. The night after the tsunami, he dreams of drowning in icy darkness. That one feels less like a dream. It feels even less like a dream when he has it again, seven months later, after almost dying at the bottom of a well.

Eddie still doesn’t mention it though. It’s just his subconscious twisting the trauma he has been through (and there are a lot of traumas to twist). When the dreams are happier, it’s surely just his brain mocking him with the feelings he has for his best friend. Because the man in the dreams—it’s definitely Buck. Or it’s meant to be Buck. Clearly Eddie’s brain is committed to torturing him even when he’s not awake.

Life goes on. The pandemic hits and suddenly Eddie is staying with Buck, sleeping in Buck’s bed, all in the name of keeping his son safe. It is so close and yet so far from what he wants—which is this, always, for the rest of his life. (And also for the world not to be caught in the throws of a pandemic, thanks.) They go to sleep on opposite sides of the mattress and wake up tangled together more mornings than they don’t. It’s not weird. Maybe it would be weird if they talked about it, but they’re not talking about it, so it’s not weird.

Now, Eddie knows Buck has nightmares. He’s got about as many traumas to pick from as Eddie and the state of the world isn’t exactly conductive to great mental health at the moment. So when Eddie wakes up from another one of those dreams—slow dancing again, the rest of the world fading away from the axis of each other—and finds silent tears running down Buck’s face in the darkness, he figures it was another bad dream (and feels a little bit guilty about how good his dream was). He’s not expecting—

“You were humming.”

Eddie frowns, trying to follow that. “What?”

“I was having this dream,” Buck tells him. He’s whispering, words only for Eddie, for the few inches between them. “There was orchestra music and we were dancing and then I woke up and you were humming in your sleep.”

Eddie’s sleep-fogged brain is taking it’s sweet time processing how that sounds like exactly what he was dreaming about. He’s mostly still caught up on Buck crying. He was dreaming about Eddie and it made him cry? But it sounds like a happy dream?

And then Buck says, “It was the same song, Eds.”

Oh.

Oh.

“We were on a ship,” Eddie says. And as he says it, he knows now that it’s a fact. They were on a ship. They were on a ship and they were in love.

“It sunk,” Buck adds. He reaches out and Eddie meets him halfway, their hands tangling together, something almost familiar in how perfectly they fit together. “We were supposed to be happy together.”

“We were.” Eddie is sure of that too. There is a little voice in the back of his head whispering we still could be.

Eddie doesn’t believe in fate or signs from the universe, but he believes in Buck. He believes that when Buck kisses him, it feels right. He believes in love and happy endings and second chances. And he believes that even though he spent so much of his life (this life) feeling like he didn’t deserve them, he has all of those things now.

It’s not New York. It’s not 1912. But they do live the rest of their lives together.

(They’re happy.)

[sorikkung]

just had a horrible day time for a pick me up 🤩 or to fall deeper down the hole, you never know with natgig, but yk what, that can be cathartic <3

the way i immediately knew it was gonna be yeonjun... it was either gonna be his past self or yeonjun but either way his past is coming back to haunt him oh boy im ready for this to HURT

flashbacks to that one chapter w dream mingi bc That Is Not Yeonjun!! oh my fucking god. every time i think youve come up with a way to emotionally torture wooyoung in the most psychologically damaging way possible for him specifically you outdo yourself and make it worse. what the fuck. my BABY. FREE MY BOY HE DID NOTHING WRONG!!!!

"He deserves this." NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Or maybe you really are as useless as he claims.” you really said "lets aim for every single trauma wound we can fit in one character then stab 85 different needles into each one <3" w him didntcha

oh no. oh no. that isn't seonghwa either isnt it. theres no way there'd be such a sudden jump to him being saved already. oh no. oh nonononono. oh noonoonononononooooononon. ohno

yeah look if wooyo been thinking abt seonghwa choking him out while he kisses him then like me the fuck too, but also, ouch. SDJKFSDKFHS

“That if anyone were able to love something as fucked up as you, maybe it would be me.” OH OUCH WHAT THE FUCK DUDE THAT SHIT HURTED 😭😭😭😭😭

its gonna be san then mc isnt it. ohhh man. oh man. oop. its san. fuckfuckfuck

OH. OH. OHHH MY GOD. BC THEY DIDNT NEED TO COME UP WITH THE MOST EMOTIONALLY DAMAGING THING SAN COULD SAY TO HIM - HE ALREADY SAID IT ALL. SO THE NEXT WORST THING IS JUST. LOSING HIM COMPLETELY. HIM BEING DEAD. OHHHH THAT WAS SO EVIL CORYNN I AM GRABBING YOU BY THE SHOULDERS AND SHAKING YOU LIKE A FUCKING FISHHHH

im still sussy of winter bc shes the only one we've seen Actually hold this kind of resentment towards him like the dream/nightmare state or whatever dont even needa twist Her behaviour LMFAOoo

there she is. man, with the very knife he took from her, how symbolic... also i never thought the words "I do too." could be SO FUCKING DEVASTATING and Y E T. AND YET!!!

yk i just realised we still dont know who the dark army are or why they want mc yet do we??? well presumably to finish what they started but like. i was gonna say or their beef w libaiya but. we know enough to guess why anyone could have beef w libaiya HSDKFJGKSJD but like man why are they willing to go to such lengths who the fuck are these people this whole time!! im so curious!! what are they fighting for!!

San wants his sword back. San also knows that he isn’t thinking about weapons anymore.

UGH I LOVE A GOOD COMPARISON LIKE THAT!!!!

hwa asking him to talk abt how they met just to pass the time n feel a bit better oh my god what is it about that thats so cute and precious ahh 🥺🥺🥺 also very clever way in getting the readers to the exposition on this without adding another entire triggering event for it hehe

“But then Woo showed up,” Seonghwa says softly. “Yeah,” San breathes, unable to help the smile that curves across his lips. “But then Woo showed up.”

ugh that pacing hit like a TRUCK 😩😩😩😩😩

THATS KIND OF PATHETIC DONT YOU THINK SHKJAJKDKJFG OH MY GODDD THOSE ARE SUCH GOOD FIRST WORDS. I LOVE AN ICONIC INTRO I LOVE THAT SM

He simply needs Woo there. Even when it’s wrong, even when he knows it’s an awful, gut-wrenching codependence at times. He needs him. 

nothing i love more in fiction than awful, gut-wrenching codependence like yaaaas kings make each other WORSE do it in the name of LOVE thats just as destructive as it is restorative WOOOO

Yes, San knew that Woo had feelings for Seonghwa. San just didn’t know that Woo knew that Woo had feelings for Seonghwa.

one of my favourite relationship dynamics honestly

"If there is any scenario San could imagine Woo confronting his feelings, it’s in a fit of rage." YEAH THATS WOOYOCORE ALRIGHT SHJKDFGHKFAKGHSKDHGKSJDFGJ LOVE THAT

oh damn hwa aint even had his gay awakening yet huh. you in for a real storm with this one brother! KDJFJKSHKJSKDFHK- [SPITS OUT DRINK] HE COULD WHAT. OH MY GOD. OH MY GODDDDDD ITS HAPPENINGGGG ITS FUCKING HAPPENINGGGGG!!!!!!! HOLY SHIIIIIT!!!!!

"Seonghwa is not upset that Woo confessed to loving him, he’s upset that he didn’t do so tenderly." THATS SO FUCKING RAW OH MY GODDDD san real observant for that one BUT ALSO MY HEART SPLIT IN HALF!!!!

"More than anything, San makes sure that the kiss is tender. " WHAT IF I PISSED MY PANTS SO HARD I DIED!!!! WHAT THEN, CORYNN!!!! WHAT FUCKING THEN!!!!

AHHHHHHHHHHH FUCK THERE IT FUCKING IIIIIIIIIIIS OH BOY HE DID ITTTT FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUKCFUCK

“And why do you think that is, Hwa?” "Oh." HKSFDGKLJSDJKFGJKSDFGKJ FUCKING, GOTTEM

okay that was so tender and gentle and soft and

IM FINE.

there Is something freeing about confessing to your crush, even if they dont reciprocate, i feel that. getting real relevant in this chilis HSJKDKFGJKDJK OH MY GOD MC NOOO.

oh fuck i completely forgot abt minho's elixir. i also forgot what it does. hol up do i needa go back... ok i went back. cool so we dont know what it does! but i assume its going to be what gets us and the crew outta here alive.

KEEP MINGIS NAME OUT OF YOUR WHORE MOUTH COMMANDER!!!!! also i wonder if that ravine will come into play later. just a random hunch. surely it was mentioned for a reason?

cool so the dark army are just working under orders. i mean expectedly enough but theres no patriotism involved huh just some hidden big bad paying em to do it. hmmm :/

whew i knew sanhwa would show up in the nick of time fuck yeah side by side fight scene i love this shit!! pretty fitting that seonghwa first ever takes a life in a moment as dire as this. hes being so strong rn 🥺🥺 they all are 🥺🥺🥺 can you tell im extra emotional today.

A man swings at you, and you push backwards against San to avoid the swipe. You worry it will cause San to tumble, but instead he sinks lower on knees, flattening his back. Using it for support, you fall back and into the air, giving the man in front of you a firm kick to the chest that sends him backwards, crashing into a few of the men behind him.

this part is so cool and vivid youre back at it again w the sick action scenes 😩😩

a mere MONTH??? i thought it had been a couple months on the road at least damn this shit went by quickly hsjkdkjgskg

"You open your eyes and know that you will never be her again. " ooh bitch CHILLING!!!

ok there is something so fucking cool about wooyoung being the commanders last resort. not some other dark magic shit to make Him more powerful, but to use wooyoung as a weapon because he knows wooyoung is the most powerful one here. so this basically means they were smart in capturing wooyoung first - or maybe just lucky - cause theoretically he could've taken down this entire battalion himself, just like it was the wardens army. hes an absolute fucking wildfire and thats kinda sexy of him tbh

omg is that the first theyve heard wooyoungs name thats so AAAAAAAAAAAA PULLING ALL MY HAIR OUT THIS IS SO PAIN BUT SO GOOD

“Because, Wooyoung,” you say. “He deserves it.”

BANGER! BANGER! ABSOLUTE FUCKING BANGER, ATE AND LEFT NO CRUMBS, PERFECT BUILD UP, WORDING, DELIVERY, STANDING OVATION, SOMEONE GIVE THIS BITCH A GODDAMN GRAMMY OR SOMETHING THE CROWD GOES WIIIIIIIIIIIILD

i knew the ravine would be relevant and wow that visual is so picturesque, even if i dont think he deserved the swiftness to his demise </3

"Fuck." WHAT A PERFECT CLOSING TO THE CHAPTER SHJDFGAJDKJGSKJFGKSKDGKJSDFGK wow. what a climax. i mean was that even a climax we still dont know who the employer is or what will happen when they reach kuroku but that was sure a climax if not The climax... sheesh im outta breath just reading that. or that might be from coughing up a lung but imma give you the credit bc fuck this cold and this chapter was fucking awesome. angst fluff action all in one you really giving the bitches Everything. its me im bitches. dunno if my reaction is shorter than usual this time ive been so out of it but i really really enjoyed that one you know i always enjoy the wooyoung centric chapters that shits like crack to me <33 knocked it out of the park once again, cant wait to see where it goes from here!

Not all that Glitters is Gold -> 11

series pairing: (fem) princess!reader x seonghwa x san x wooyoung. eventual polyamory.

series masterlist | previous chapter

Part Eleven: a broken conscience, tenderness, and a final confrontation.

series rating: 16+

series genre: action and adventure. romance. angst. fluff. suggestive. fantasy au.

series warnings: character death, blood and violence, weaponry, injury, suggestive content, mxm content, elements of misogyny, language, monsters. (will only be using chapter specific warnings for things not included on this list.)

summary: as a princess fleeing a royal assassination attempt, you have no choice but to put your trust in a band of three thieves in order to reach the kingdom of kuroku alive. however, amongst magic, deceit, and the bounty hunters that are hot on your trail, you realize that you might have stumbled upon a relationship far more complicated than what meets the eye.

chapter details beneath the cut ->

wc: 16.2k

extra chapter warnings: themes of self-hatred, brief mention of suicide. heed the violence warning for this one.

chapter summary:

“I don’t know what happened at the lake,” Seonghwa starts, tentative and unsure. Clearly cautious to continue forward. “But do you think you guys will be able to work things out?”

“I don’t know,” San breathes, and it’s true. “I really don’t know, Hwa.”

Seonghwa nods, taking this in. He begins to chew on the corner of his cheek, nervous. “I need to tell you something.”

a/n: me apologizing for taking eons to write is getting a bit old, so imma stop LMAO. life is just busy but what’s new. anyway, to be frank i adore this chapter. it's a wild ride. i hope you all enjoy. mwah.

“Wooyoung!”

Wooyoung hears someone call out to him, but he isn’t sure from where. Their voice appears close, yet far off all at once. As if they are speaking from beside him, and at the same time miles away.

His senses feel muddled. Eye-sight a bit faded, it��s as if he’s looking through a window in the winter season. Fogged and clammy with precipitation, almost translucent. His hearing is muffled, his footsteps creating a dull-echo through him, as if they’re coming from within his mind rather than heard through his ears.

Wooyoung ignores this, instead choosing to follow the voice, although really, he’s walking aimlessly more than he is following. He can’t tell where the voice is coming from, and the darkness that surrounds him is disorientating. When he looks down, he can see his own eyes staring back at him, the ground polished and reflective. However, when he looks forward it all meshes into a thick blackness, like a mirror facing the night sky. 

“Wooyoung!”

He hears the voice again, and it sounds like it’s coming from behind him, but when he turns there is nobody there. Just more of the same darkness.

Wooyoung scowls. Something is wrong, although he can’t place what. An inkling of worry rests on his shoulders nagging at him to listen, but everytime he tries to grasp it, it slips between his fingers. Sliding like water over rock.

His frown deepens. Yes, something is very wrong. He should know what it is, and yet he doesn’t.

Wooyoung turns back around, walking back in the same direction from which he came, this time with more fervour, his cluelessness leaving him agitated. 

However, as he turns it is not only blackness ahead of him, but a boy.

He faces away from Wooyoung so that the elemental cannot see his face, although based on his narrow stature and height, he’s no older than his early teens. Wooyoung, struck by a sense of familiarity, heads towards him. 

Upon reaching him, Wooyoung reaches out to grab the boy's shoulder, turning him around to face him. However, just as the boy’s face is almost visible, he vanishes. Wooyoung blinks. Darkness sits before him, empty, his hand outstretched into the blackness.

“Wooyoung.”

He whirls around, finding himself face to face with the boy.

Wooyoung gasps.

The boy’s light eyes meet his, a rich grey colour that has always reminded him of a coming storm. His black hair has grown longer, shaggy as it curls around the boy’s ears. Although Wooyoung has grown quite a bit since he last saw him, the boy is still taller, even if only by an inch or so.

“Yeonjun,” he whispers, and then his arms are wrapped around him, pulling the boy close. Wooyoung presses one of his hands along Yeonjun's back, feeling his skin and the muscles along his shoulders, trying to make sure that he’s real as he remembers each of his skin’s crevices. Ensuring that he is not a trick of the mind, an illusion within the warped darkness. 

But he is real. Completely solid, his skin as warm and soft as so many years ago. Wooyoung places a hand onto the back of his head, cradling it as he pulls Yeonjun close. 

Yeonjun does not move to hug him back. He stands still, stiff. Arms planted at his sides.

“You’re dead,” Wooyoung whispers, because he doesn’t understand how this is possible. He tucks his chin over the boy’s shoulder, overwhelmed by the familiarity of it, even after all these years. There’s a rightness to it, like his shoulder was meant for Wooyoung’s chin to rest there.

Yeonjun doesn’t reply right away, and Wooyoung finally pulls away from him. Yeonjun’s deep grey eyes meet his, although there is a certain absence to them. Not of life, but compassion. His lips are pulled into a thin line, his jaw clenched tight. 

It’s not until now Wooyoung realizes that Yeonjun is not happy to see him. 

“You don’t have to remind me that I’m dead, Wooyoung,” Yeonjun says, and his voice is not how Wooyoung remembers it. Not in its actual sound, but in its tone. Wooyoung remembers Yeonjun’s voice within night’s spent up in the watchtower, huddled close together. He remembers it in whispers around the lunch table, jovial and bright amidst the darkness. 

He does not remember Yeonjun’s voice being so cold, nor so pointed. So hateful. 

“It’s not the kind of thing I would forget,” Yeonjun spits, releasing himself from Wooyoung’s grip. Wooyoung flinches, caught off guard by this ferocity of his words. 

“I didn’t mean-” Wooyoung starts, reaching out to place a comforting hand atop the boy’s shoulder. Yeonjun slaps it away. Hard. 

“Don’t touch me,” Yeonjun scowls. He takes a step forward, and Wooyoung finds himself stepping back. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me!”

“I-I’m sorry,”  Wooyoung says, and his voice is small as he takes another step back, pulling his hand away completely. 

“Don’t tell me that you’re sorry,” Yeonjun says, and then Wooyoung is flying backwards. Blown by a sharp gust of wind, he hits his back against the ground. It sends a sharp spark of pain along his spine, and he winces as he continues to roll, using his elbows to protect his face as he tumbles backwards. 

When he finally comes to a stop, he looks up, watching as Yeonjun storms towards him. “You think that you being sorry is going to change anything? That it’s going to fix what you did?”

“No,” Wooyoung whispers, because it’s true. He has hated himself for what he did to Yeonjun. Dragging him into his plan to escape, the plan that ultimately got the boy killed. However, even with all of his guilt, regret, and self-hatred, he never once thought that he’d have to face Yeonjun again. That he would have to own up to his failure. His unforgivable mistake.

He deserves this.

“You’re right, I am dead,” Yeonjun says, no longer shouting, but the ice within his voice is just as powerful. “I’m dead and it’s because of you.”

A ball of fire ignites in Yeonjun’s hand that the younger boy pulls it back, before letting it fly towards Wooyoung. The fire hurtles towards him, its orange and yellow flames twisting and turning, growing in size with each passing second.

Wooyoung would never hurt Yeonjun. Not intentionally, not with his own hand or flame. So instead of firing back with his own, Wooyoung redirects the flame away from him, sending it sideways.

Except that he doesn’t, because the redirection doesn’t work. 

Yeonjun’s aim lands true as the flames engulf him.

Wooyoung thinks that he is screaming, but he can’t tell, his ears having gone deaf amongst the pain that radiates throughout his entire body. The burning sensation starts at his skin, thousands of little needles stabbing him everywhere from his face down to his feet. He can’t think beyond the burning, the heat intolerable as it consumes him. He begins to roll around on the ground, wailing in agony as he desperately tries to put the fire out. 

When the flames subside, Wooyoung can’t rise to his feet. He drags his hand along the ground, weak and shaking as he pulls it to his side, and he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the mirrored floor beneath him.

His skin bubbles and blisters, it’s once deep bronze having shifted to an angry and repulsive bright red. His hand twitches, shaking as he attempts to move it. He lets out a low whine of pain, tears glistening in his eyes.

He hears Yeonjun’s footsteps approach him. When the boy crouches down in front of Wooyoung, his eyes are full of malice. He does not smile, even as Wooyoung looks up at him through bleary eyes, weak and pathetic.

Yeonjun’s hand fills with fire, and instead of throwing it at him, he simply places it onto Wooyoung’s arm. Wooyoung watches in horror as his skin catches light, the needles returning as sharp pain cascades over his flesh. He lets out a broken cry, trying to move his other hand to put it out, but he’s too weak. His other hand merely shakes, awkwardly patting at the fire in a way that does nothing to put it out, but rather makes his other hand hurt even more.

“Use your gift, Wooyoung,” Yeonjun chides, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Or maybe you really are as useless as he claims.”

“He” meaning Warden. The only man Wooyoung has ever been genuinely afraid of. The only man who convinced Wooyoung that he was nothing. Has always been nothing. 

Is nothing, even now.

Yeonjun leans in closer, and when he speaks, his voice is a low whisper. “You deserve all that’s coming to you, Wooyoung. Remember that.”

The fire spreads up his arm and onto his shoulder, and Wooyoung closes his eyes, losing himself in the pain. It continues through him, the fire eating away at his flesh and burning its way into his mind. He can smell the smoke around him, and it's reminiscent of his skin. Rotten and vile, he breathes it again, mouth agape as he wails in agony. 

The fire consumes him until there is nothing left. His body gone, mind lost to the flames.

“Woo, get off of the floor,” a voice says from above him. 

Wooyoung blinks. His cheek is cool against the ground beneath him, as is the rest of his body that is sprawled out above it. He glances forward at his hand that sits out in front of him.

It looks normal, the burns completely vanished.

He narrows his eyes, glancing at his reflection in the mirror below him. All he sees is himself staring back, disbelieving. Wooyoung’s skin has returned to its normal, deep bronze rather than bright red, the blisters having disappeared entirely. His reflection blinks back at him. It’s as if nothing happened.

“Did you hit your head or something?” The voice says again, and Wooyoung glances up. Seonghwa stands above him,  looking down with a puzzled look on his face. 

Wooyoung frowns, a burst of both excitement and shame igniting within him, although he doesn’t know where it comes from. Did something happen between him and Seonghwa lately? He can’t seem to remember. 

“No, sorry,” Wooyoung replies, and Seonghwa extends a hand out. Wooyoung takes it, letting the blonde lift him back up to his feet. 

Wooyoung glances down at himself, at his once burnt clothing now perfectly in-tact. His frown deepens. “Do you know-” He begins, but whatever he was going to say dies on his lips, as when he glances up Seonghwa’s eyes are already staring into his own. 

Seonghwa is close, a little too close. His hand continues to hold Wooyoung’s, resting against Seonghwa’s own chest. His face is closer than Wooyoung thinks it’s ever been, mere inches apart, and Wooyoung can feel the heat that rises to his cheeks.

“I… I, um,” Wooyoung says stupidly.

“Hm?” Seonghwa hums, and a small smile grazes his lips. It’s coy, almost knowing, and if Wooyoung could feel the heat in his cheeks before then they’re practically burning now. “Were you saying something?”

Wooyoung swallows hard, and when he speaks again his voice is a whisper. “No.”

Seonghwa’s smile grows a little wider. “Good.”

Then Seonghwa kisses him.

It’s familiar in a way he can’t understand, almost as if he’s been here before, but also nowhere close. Seonghwa’s lips are soft, tender as they meet Wooyoung’s own. The empath’s hand is gentle as it reaches up to rest on the back of Wooyoung’s neck, whose mind melts. 

Seonghwa clearly feels the elemental stiffen in surprise, smiling against Wooyoung’s lips. He lets out a breathy chuckle that is oh-so-familiar, and Wooyoung lets the sound flow through his ears and fill the rest of him. His mind, his heart, his body. He lets himself become wrapped in the comfortability that is one of his closest friends, his mind’s long-harboured desire.

Seonghwa’s hand drifts from the back of the elemental’s neck to the front, fingers dancing along his Adam’s apple, which bobs as Wooyoung swallows in anticipation.

Then Seonghwa begins to squeeze.

His grip is not gentle, nor is it suggestive. Instead it is tight, increasingly uncomfortable, and Wooyoung tries to pull his lips away. “Hwa,” he murmurs, although it’s difficult to get out through the way Seonghwa’s hand squeezes around his airway. “Hwa, you’re hurting me.”

“Am I?” Seonghwa speaks against his lips, his tone shifting from fond to something that resembles seductive, but not quite. Mischievous, or even dangerous. “Awe.”

Seonghwa's grip shifts from uncomfortable to painful as he deepens the kiss, nails digging into Wooyoung’s skin as he presses harder on his airway. Wooyoung tried to pull away, to protest, but Seonghwa forcefully keeps his lips on Wooyoung’s own. 

Wooyoung places his hands on Seonghwa’s wrist, trying to pull his grip away. However, it’s as if Seonghwa has gained impenetrable strength, as his arm will not budge no matter how hard Wooyoung tries. Seonghwa finally pulls his lips away, looking down at Wooyoung, eyes full of a mocking pity.

“What’s wrong, Woo? Isn’t this what you’ve been imagining?” Seonghwa asks, and while Wooyoung opens his mouth to deny him, his squeezed airway prevents him from speaking. Seonghwa grins, squeezing tighter as he moves his face closer, his breath hot on Wooyoung’s skin. “Isn’t this what you’ve been dreaming about in that sick head of yours?”

Wooyoung tries to cry out but all that comes out is a choked, pathetic sound that makes Seonghwa snicker. Blackness creeping into the corners of his vision, Wooyoung’s head begins to become foggy, everything fuzzy but the pain and image of Seonghwa before him.

He can feel his eyelids drooping, his effort to pull Seonghwa’s hand away diminishing with each passing second. Seonghwa notices it too, as he coos in disapproval. 

“You really thought I could love you, didn’t you?” Seonghwa says softly, grip tightening to keep Wooyoung awake. Tears begin to fill the elemental’s eyes as his chest aches, desperate for air. For release, one way or another. “That if anyone were able to love something as fucked up as you, maybe it would be me.”

Seonghwa leans in, and Wooyoung feels his eyes roll into the back of his head, nothingness beginning to replace the space his thoughts once resided.

“I could never love you, Woo. Nobody could. It’s time that you stop pretending otherwise.”

Wooyoung awakens to his cheek pressed against the cold mirrored floor. Again. 

Taking a deep, gasping breath, he feels his lungs fill with air. Hand drifting to his neck, he searches for the pain of bruising, only to find that there is nothing there. His neck feels fine, his breathing having returned to normal, and he curses beneath his breath.

“What the fuck is happening to me?” He thinks, staring up at the never-ending darkness above him. He searches his mind for the memory of where he is, how he got to this strange place, but can’t seem to find anything. The answer sits on the tip of his tongue, but he cannot speak it, the words just out of his reach.

Anxiety pulses within his head, hands shaky as he pulls them down to his side. He feels as if he’s going crazy. Maybe he is. Maybe he already has. 

Wooyoung rolls over, prepared to rise to his feet, only to be stopped by the sight of a man lying next to him. He faces away from Wooyoung, but from the outline of the muscles of his back that poke through his shirt and the strap of the eye-patch that wraps around the back of his head, Wooyoung knows that it’s San.

Wooyoung lets out a sigh of relief, comforted by the fact that San is with him. San always knows what’s going on, what to do when nothing seems to make sense. San will be able to put together what Wooyoung cannot.

He extends out a hand, letting it fall onto San’s shoulder, giving the swordsman a gentle shake. San’s skin is cool to his touch, smooth, and Wooyoung smiles at the comfortable familiarity of it.

“San,” he says, giving the swordsman a gentle shake. When San does not reply, Wooyoung shakes him a little harder. “San.”

When San still does not move, Wooyoung assumes that he is sleeping. It’s not surprising, as even for a man so keen and alert at all waking hours, he sleeps like the dead. Sitting up on his elbow, Wooyoung tugs on San’s shoulder, rolling him over.

Except that when Wooyoung’s gaze meets man’s face, San’s eye is not closed in peaceful slumber. It is wide-open, glazed, and worst of all, vacant.

Wooyoung knows that he is dead.

Time appears to stop for a moment, although it feels more like an eternity. Wooyoung stares down into San’s blank stare, the coolness of his skin suddenly making far too much sense. 

San is dead. 

San is dead.

“No,” Wooyoung murmurs, hand drifting from San’s shoulder to his chest, feeling for a heart-beat and finding nothing. Wooyoung pulls himself up onto his knees, leaning down to press his ear to San’s parted lips, listening for a breath. There is none to be found.

“No,” Wooyoung whispers, turning his head to press a kiss to the swordsman’s lips, one that goes unreciprocated. “No, no, no,” he protests, hands shaking as he grabs San’s jaw, pulling his mouth to his own.

San’s lips are cold, unmoving, and when Wooyoung pulls away from him his eyes are stained with tears. His throat swells, chest aching, and he lets out an open sob. It echoes throughout the empty darkness around them, over and over again, like a lament of agony.

“This is your fault.”

Wooyoung’s gaze shoots up. In front of him sits a young girl, no older than thirteen, her long black hair tangled and pale face stained with tears. 

“Winter,” Wooyoung whispers.

“You couldn’t just let him leave,” she says, voice shaking as her hands clutch onto San’s tunic. They tremble around the light fabric, in desperation, in anger, in devastation. “He knew what you would do to him, but you couldn’t let him go, could you?”

“I…” Wooyoung starts, tongue feeling too big for his mouth, mind fuzzy. “I did this?”

He looks down at his hands. They’re coated in blood, as is San’s shirt. He doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it before.

“He loved you,” Winter says, eyes finally looking up to meet Wooyoung’s. The redness of her crying face and the gloss of her tears bring out the blue in them. “We both did. And this is what we get for it?”

“I’m sorry,” Wooyoung says, his voice barely above a whisper. Winter says nothing, her sobs merely grow louder, and Wooyoung looks down at San. The man he ruined. The man he destroyed. “I’m so sorry.”

When San makes no reply, as he no longer can, Wooyoung’s tears transform into loud, broken sobs. His own hand grabs onto San’s bloodied tunic, needing to hold a part of him but not daring to let himself touch the man’s skin. Tarnish him any more than he already has.

“I hate you,” Winter whispers, and it takes Wooyoung a minute to realize that although he’s heard her say those words before, it isn’t Winter speaking.

Wooyoung looks up to meet your gaze.

Your jaw is tightly clenched, your lip quivering. Although, what affects him the most is your eyes and the deep emotion they hold. A fiery blaze of distaste, of fury, wrath, and pure and unadulterated hatred.

“I hate you,” you say again, face contorting inward on itself as you look at him. “For everything you’ve done to me. For everything you’ve done to them. For everything you are.”

“I know,” he answers, and when he speaks his voice is barely above a whisper, as he lets out an admission. “I do too.”

He doesn’t notice the knife in your hand until it is buried in his chest.

Wooyoung stares down at the knife protruding out from him, your hand wrapped around its delicately engraved handle. It’s the one they gave to you, the one he took from you that first night.

He doesn’t fight it, doesn’t attempt to pull it out or shove you away. He deserves it.

Blood pools around the wound in his chest, leaking down. He opens his mouth to speak, but instead coughs, blood splattering from his mouth onto your face. You don’t seem to care.

You lean forward over San’s body, pressing your lips against his ear. However, when you speak, your voice is not your own. It’s deeper, more masculine. Familiar, although from where Wooyoung cannot place.

“Tell me where she is, Wooyoung. Tell me where she is and I’ll make it stop.”

“The refuge,” the answer comes immediately to his mind, dancing on his tongue, although he doesn’t know where it comes from or what it means. “She’s with the refugees. Sharing a tent with a young red-haired girl. It’s just three turns from the entrance.”

But he doesn’t say these words, even as the pain within his chest deepens, even as he wants everything to disappear. Even as he craves for the darkness to consume him, to rid him of this terrible mess. The horrors of everything he’s done. 

He doesn’t say these words because something in his mind screams that he can’t, something deep within him that pounds at the walls of his subconscious, that something is deeply, horrifically wrong. 

“Fine,” you say in that same voice that is not your own, leaning back from his ear to face him, the anger in your eyes having faded to a cold disinterest. “Have it your way.”

You twist the knife deeper and Wooyoung dies, this time in even more agony than the last.

This sword is nicer than San’s old one.

His old sword had been gifted to him from Gloria's blacksmith when he was thirteen. A kind old-man who knew the trouble that had entangled San, and wished to give the young boy a chance in a life where his fortune had run dry.

The sword was nothing special, hilt not quite heavy enough and wrapped in a cheap leather that had become worn over the years. It was not as flexible as to be expected of a good sword, and even with the trips he’d taken to sharpen the blade, the metal was becoming dull and had lost much of its durability. San was also thirteen upon receiving it, so of course, the blade was not long. Even for a short-sword, it had become too small with San’s growing height.

This sword doesn’t have those problems, with its thick hilt coated in fine leather. It clearly holds a stronger durability than the last, almost nimble with its flexibility. It’s even a little longer, allowing him to reach an opponent from a few inches further back, granting him better protection. 

The new sword is objectively better than his last in just about every way possible.

San hates it.

He hates the way the new sword glides through the air effortlessly, how the sharpness of the blade cuts deep against the wooden pole he strikes with a terrifying ease. He hates how it fits his hand so well, how the length suits him perfectly. It was made for him, fashioned for his grip..

There is no life to this sword. Not yet. It wasn’t given to him in a time of desperate need like his last, something to hold onto when everything else was falling apart. He has this sword because he simply needed a new one.

San misses his old sword. It’s heavy hilt and the roughness of the cheap leather against his palm. He misses how it wasn’t long enough, how he’d have to dance closer to danger within every battle. He misses the wrongness of it, and how right that wrongness felt. He misses the imperfection. The faults. The years spent getting used to those faults, of learning to navigate them. 

San wants his sword back.

San also knows that he isn’t thinking about weapons anymore.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, San takes a breath before attacking the pole before him once more. In a flurry of motion, he hacks at the pole’s cheap wood, landing blow after blow. There is no grace, no tactical finesse, just violence. The excuse of training having faded a long time ago, San simply seeks to cause damage.

Then he growls, a low noise of annoyance in the back of his throat, before throwing the sword to the ground. It clatters against a couple rocks, before settling itself in the grass, almost invisible within the night's shadow. Good, he doesn’t want to look at it anymore.

San leans against the pole, feeling the many indents he’s created against the bare skin of his back. His tunic sits discarded on the ground next to him, having been soaked through with sweat. He’s been at this for hours.

“Are you okay?” A voice asks from over his shoulder. San turns to see Seonghwa standing by their tent, a sad expression on his face. He asks more out of courtesy than anything else. San knows that the answer is obvious.

“No,” San says softly, and the honesty surprises him, but after a moment it doesn’t. San is tired of hiding how he feels about things. Of pretending things are fine when they so obviously aren’t. If he still had the energy for it after the last couple weeks — although more like years, really — then it left alongside Woo.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Seonghwa asks.

“Not really,” San answers honestly. He’s been thinking about it for hours, the last thing he wants is to continue doing so. 

“Alright, we don’t have to, ” Seonghwa says gently. San peers back over at him. Seonghwa’s arms sit folded over his chest, eyes big and full of concern. His hair is tousled, patches of blonde sticking out in opposite directions, as if he were trying to sleep but couldn’t. He likely has been. San wonders how late it is, how long he’s been out here for. 

“Do you want to just come inside then?” Seonghwa offers instead, tilting his head towards the tent entrance. San considers this for a moment before deciding he would rather be anywhere other than beside this pole, and nods in affirmation.

Following Seonghwa inside the tent, San takes note of Seonghwa’s crumpled sheets, evidence of San’s assumption that the man has spent the last few hours tossing and turning rather than in rest. 

“Do you want some tea?” Seonghwa asks. 

“I’m alright.”

“Good. Whiskey then?”

San can’t help the chuckle he lets out at that. “Please.”

Seonghwa reaches into the basket Yeji had gifted them, filled to the brim with different delectables. San knew that it was nice of her to do, a kind gesture, but the cynical part of him saw the silliness of it. Here, your friend just got kidnapped for ransom, but maybe these scones will make you feel better about it.

However, maybe she also saw the futility of it, having added a rather hefty bottle of whiskey to the mix of sweets.

Seonghwa pours the whiskey into two ceramic cups before handing one over to San, who sits down on his own bed of blankets across from Seonghwa’s own. Woo’s remains between them, untouched. 

Seonghwa extends his cup forward to meet San’s own in a form of cheers, although to what exactly San doesn’t think Seonghwa knows the answer either. They both take a sip, and the liquid burns slightly as it trickles down San’s throat. He makes sure to drink a bit more than he normally would.

Swallowing his own whiskey before San does, Seonghwa looks down at Woo’s bed between them, gaze contemplative.

“Have you ever told me how you and Woo met?” Seonghwa asks.

San quirks a brow at this, a bit amused but at the same time confused. “Many times, Hwa.”

Seonghwa nods at this, cheeks dusted with a faint shade of pink, as if he’s well aware of this fact and embarrassed to have been caught.

However, when the empath says nothing, San sighs. He knows that Seonghwa simply wants to talk about Woo, even if not about the situation at hand. The dire, horrible situation that plagues both of their minds with worry. The situation that San cannot bare to talk about, so lest he tear up this tent with his sword before heading up the mountain to kill the entire Dark Army himself

But how they met… he supposes he can talk about that. If it will bring Seonghwa some peace of mind, of course.

“We were both fourteen,” San begins, watching as an appreciative smile spreads over Seonghwa’s lips. “I’d been working a job for Jay, spying on an investor he suspected of embezzling The Cradle’s Funds. But I was still new to working for him, and hadn’t quite found my knack for stealth yet.”

Seonghwa closes his eyes as San speaks, as if what he’s saying is some sort of lullaby, a piece of comfort.

“He caught me hiding in the shrub garden of his courtyard and dragged me out by my hair onto the city street. He started screaming at me, before pulling out a knife from his back pocket," San says, and he can still remember that moment as clear as day. The terror that consumed him, that kept him frozen in place as the man advanced towards him.

San does not tell Seonghwa this, but what he remembers most is how in that moment he thought about how nobody would care if the man killed him. His father had left him, his mother and sister were both dead, and his expendability in Jay’s eyes was made blatantly clear by the fact that he sent San to deal with this man in the first place.

If the man killed San right then and there, nobody would have batted an eye. He would just become another one of the many nameless, faceless victims of Gloria’s streets.

“The man came towards me, and I remember closing my eye as he lifted the blade in the air. I didn’t want to see it enter me, I knew I couldn’t handle that.”

“But then Woo showed up,” Seonghwa says softly.

“Yeah,” San breathes, unable to help the smile that curves across his lips. “But then Woo showed up.”

San takes a deep breath, before letting his own eye close, reliving it. “Across the darkness I saw a bright flash of light, and could feel a sudden rush of heat across my face. I opened my eye in a panic. I thought that maybe I’d died, that he stabbed and killed me instantaneously, that the light had meant I’d ascended or that the heat was the fires of Hell.”

“But when I opened my eyes I saw the man standing before me, except that now his arm that was holding the knife was completely engulfed in flame. The look on his face when he saw it was priceless, completely in shock as he ran back into his house screaming for help, the poor boy in front of him that he was about to murder completely forgotten.”

“Then Woo walked up to me, standing up with his arms crossed. The light of the sun shone out behind him, and I remember at the time thinking he must have been the god of fire himself. Or maybe an angel that came to save me. It’s ridiculous knowing him now, but at the time I really believed it.”

“What was the first thing Woo said to you again?” Seonghwa asks, and San chuckles.

“He asked me ‘Were you really just going to sit there and let him kill you?’ I shakily replied yes, and then he said ‘That’s kind of pathetic, don’t you think?’”

Seonghwa laughs at this, shaking his head to himself. San gets it. Even now, so many years later, it’s a very Woo sort of thing to say.

“I thought about it, and then agreed that yeah, it was pretty pathetic. He laughed, and then somehow I found myself laughing too. He helped me up, and then that was it.”

“That was it?” Seonghwa asks, inquiring what he means by that.

“That was it. He never left my side after that. I joined him in his camp outside of the town. He helped me train with my sword even if his own knowledge on the subject was next to none. He never wanted to see me so helpless again. He joined me on countless missions that Jay sent me on, even the nasty ones, the ones that still keep me up some nights.”

San takes in a deep breath. “He was just… there. When I had no-one, he was there. I don’t know what I would have done without him.”

San looks down at Woo’s sleeping mat between them. Pristine. Untouched. A testament to his absence.

Things between him and Woo have been horrible lately. It’s been years of build up, of the little issues growing larger, of San’s discontentment boiling beneath the surface. He knows that things with Woo will never change. He knows the elemental will never give San all of himself. 

But it’s in these little moments, when he thinks about their past and everything that has happened between them, that he wants nothing more than to have Woo with him. In any form. In a blistering argument, in the cold quiet following, in his bed even when he knows the elemental will be gone come morning.

He simply needs Woo there. Even when it’s wrong, even when he knows it’s an awful, gut-wrenching codependence at times. He needs him. 

And with Woo gone, taken from him, it’s now that he knows this more than ever.

But then he remembers the jealous spats over the last few weeks. The many morning’s waking up alone. The way that Woo jumped after him over that cliff…

“I don’t know what happened at the lake,” Seonghwa starts, tentative and unsure. Clearly cautious to continue forward. “But do you think you guys will be able to work things out?”

“I don’t know,” San breathes, and it’s true. “I really don’t know, Hwa.”

Seonghwa nods, taking this in. He begins to chew on the corner of his cheek, nervous. “I need to tell you something.”

“Go ahead,” San says, taking a sip of his drink as Seonghwa takes a deep breath.

“Woo kissed me.”

San chokes on his whiskey.

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa says as San sputters and uses a fist to pound at his chest, forcing himself to cough. “I should have waited until you swallowed first, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” San says through coughs, and while he tries to keep the blatant shock out of his tone, he fails miserably. “Woo kissed you?”

“Yeah,” Seonghwa answers, voice breathy and small.

“When?” San asks, bewildered.

“Before they captured him.”

“Before they captured him,” San repeats, more to himself than Seonghwa. He runs the idea of it through his head, although it doesn’t make much more sense to him. 

Woo kissed Seonghwa. He actually did it. Recently. Just the night before.

“Are you mad?” Seonghwa asks.

“No,” San says absently, before really registering the question. He looks over at Seonghwa, who looks at him, knees drawn up to his chest. His fingers tap against the cup in his hands as he chews on the corner of his cheek, both nervous habits of his.

San realizes that Seonghwa is genuinely scared that he’ll be upset with him, and even amidst the shock, San’s heart softens.

“No. I’m not mad, Hwa,” he says gently, running a hand through his hair to pull it out of his face as he takes another small sip of his drink. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around this.”

San knew Woo had feelings for Seonghwa, he has for years. He could tell by the way Woo looked at the empath in absent moments, when he thought nobody was looking. That undeniable fondness in his gaze that told San everything he needed to know. He noticed as Woo stiffened at Seonghwa’s touch, the way his breath would catch in his throat, just as San’s own did. 

Yes, San knew that Woo had feelings for Seonghwa. San just didn’t know that Woo knew that Woo had feelings for Seonghwa.

“I know, it was a lot for me to take in too,” Seonghwa says, before letting out a small laugh that doesn’t hold much humour. “Still is.”

“How did it happen?” San asks.

“We were arguing…about her, amongst other things,” Seonghwa says with a shrug. “And it quickly escalated to fighting. I asked— well, I yelled at him asking why he cared so much about what I do, and then he grabbed me and kissed me.”

It makes sense. If there is any scenario San could imagine Woo confronting his feelings, it’s in a fit of rage. 

“After he kissed you, then what did he do?” San asks.

Seonghwa sighs, and when he speaks his tone is bashful, cheeks flushed as if he’s embarrassed to say it aloud. “He ran away.”

“For fuck’s sake, Woo,” San thinks, giving him a mental slap that he hopes the elemental can feel from miles away. 

But San isn’t going to complain about Woo right now, because that’s not why Seonghwa brought this up, it’s not what the empath really needs. He just needs someone to listen.

“Do you know how you feel about it?” San asks, tone gentle.

“No,” Seonghwa says quietly. San catches a glimpse of annoyance in his eyes, as Seonghwa’s expression shifts from bashful to frustrated, lips drawing themselves into a tight line.

“No, I don’t. How am I supposed to know how I felt about it? If I liked it?” Seonghwa says, standing up from his sleeping mat and beginning to pace around the tent. However, given its small size he doesn’t have much room to actually pace, instead walking a mere few steps forward and back.

“There was no tenderness to it. It was nothing like a real kiss should be. He just grabbed my face and shoved it into his and then said ‘Sorry Seonghwa, you’re going to have to figure that one out on your own, I'm off to get kidnapped!’” Seonghwa says the last part in a high pitched sing-song sort of way, one that doesn’t really sound like Woo, but at the same time a lot like him in spirit.

Seonghwa sighs, taking a sip of his drink before pinching the bridge of his nose, as if he has a headache. When he speaks again, his voice becomes quiet. “That's not fair. I know it’s not fair. But neither is what he did.”

San looks up at the empath, contemplative. “Any ideas as to what it means to you yet?” 

“No,” Seonghwa answers immediately, before appearing to think better of it. “That's a lie. So many. Too many. I don't know, it’s just…”

He trails off, giving San a nervous glance that tells the swordsman that Seonghwa is worried of making him uncomfortable. San gives him a gentle smile, a signal to keep going despite it.

Seonghwa takes a deep breath. “It’s always been you and him. Always, from the moment I met you both. There was never another option, so I never considered another option. It would have been unfair. To you, to him, to myself… So I don't know. I honestly don’t know if I think of him that way. I don’t know if I think of guys that way. But now he’s gone and that’s like, the least of our problems to be worried about right now, but I just…”

“I know. I get it,” San says, because he does. He’s been there. San hadn’t loved a man until he met Woo, and falling for the elemental certainly wasn’t easy. Figuring out Woo had always been like deciphering a puzzle, or even navigating a ship out on a foggy day at sea. Disorientating, frustrating, and requiring a strong will and patient temper. 

Seonghwa sighs. “I don't know what to do.”

San see’s Seonghwa standing there, dejected and confused and what he’d dare to call a little heartsick, and the words come out of his mouth before he even registers that he’s thought of them.

“You could kiss me.”

Seonghwa’s gaze shoots back at him, and when he speaks his tone is hesitant, maybe even a little pointed as his lips hover above the rim of his glass. “That's not funny.”

San looks up at him, expecting to feel caught, or to begin back-tracking. Play it off as a joke and cover up his feelings as he’s so often done in the past, let them exist to him and nobody else.

Instead he says:  “I wasn't joking.”

And he isn’t.

He isn’t because San realizes that Seonghwa is not repulsed by the idea of Woo kissing him, or of even Woo loving him. He’s upset that Woo didn’t do it more cautiously, that he didn’t let Seonghwa give any input on his own thoughts or feelings. He’s upset that Woo did all of this in a moment of anger and aggression, without asking, and without apparent thought or care.

Seonghwa is not upset that Woo confessed to loving him, he’s upset that he didn’t do so tenderly.

“San,” Seonghwa says, and his tone is difficult to read. He says it like a warning, telling San to think about what he’s saying, what he’s really offering here. But San is thinking about, a small part of him always has been.

“I’m serious, Hwa. Think about it,” San starts, and he tries to keep his demeanour nonchalant, even as his heart begins to rapidly pick up pace in his chest. “You said you aren’t sure if you’re into guys. Well, I’m a guy. I’m not horrible to look at. You’re comfortable around me. It might help you sort some things out.”

“But…” Seonghwa trails off, and his complexion has gone a bit pale, clearly taken aback by the proposition. “But it’s you. It’s us.”

“Look, if you don’t feel anything or don’t like it I’m not going to take it personally,” San says, and maybe that’s not completely true, but what he says next is. “I’m not going to let it ruin our friendship. I promise.”

Seonghwa stares at him for a moment, large brown eyes scanning the swordsman’s face, as if searching for something. Eventually he speaks, and his voice is barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

“Really?” San asks despite himself, unable to contain his surprise.

“Yeah, whatever, okay,” Seonghwa says, his voice breathy, small, and all-around nervous. He walks over to sit down in front of San, this time on Woo’s unused sleeping mat rather than his own. Seonghwa does so with such a quickness that San is pretty sure the empath is trying to commit to this before he can talk himself out of it. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Seonghwa asks, gaze meeting San’s own. When he speaks his tone is embarrassed, maybe even a little self-conscious. “I mean, it’s me.”

Seonghwa says “me” as if that’s something that would deter him. As if there’s no possible way that San would want to kiss him, of all people. As if that were something San should be repulsed by.

San decides that with this kiss, he’ll prove to Seonghwa just how wrong he is about that.

Reaching forward to take hold of the empath’s jaw, San’s grip is gentle as his fingers dust along Seonghwa’s cheek. Seonghwa’s skin is warm, a beautiful kind of soft, and San takes a moment to run his thumb along Seonghwa’s cheekbone, his own heart fluttering at the way the empath’s skin floods with a light shade of pink.

Seonghwa’s eyes flutter shut, lips parted open slightly, waiting for San to accept them. San waits for a moment, taking in the sight before him, registering that this is actually happening. That Seonghwa - the man he’s only let himself love in seclusion, in weakness, in devastating secret - waits for San’s lips to meet his own.

Closing his good eye, San takes Seonghwa’s face in his hand, fingers grazing the conjunction between his neck and jaw. The empath’s skin is warm and San wonders if he’s blushing.

Seonghwa’s lips are soft. Softer than San imagined them to be, admittedly watching the empath’s mouth at times rather than his eyes. Embarrassing. Foolish. Pitiful. 

But perhaps not anymore. Not right now. Right now is anything but such cruel negativity.

San makes sure that the kiss is good. That it holds a sense of passion, by no means chaste or hesitant, but also is not aggressive or to the point of formidability. He grips Seonghwa’s jaw a little tighter, pulling him in deeper.

More than anything, San makes sure that the kiss is tender. 

Seonghwa sucks in a tight breath, and for a moment San fears that he’s uncomfortable, repulsed by it. That this was a mistake. That the rejection he’s been terrified of for so long is just a moment away. Maybe Seonghwa won’t even be able to look at him after, he’ll be too disgusted. 

But then Seonghwa’s hand finds itself on San’s arm. It rests there, Seonghwa’s fingers gently gripping San’s tunic. In that moment, the swordsman can almost feel as the fear and anxiety leaves his mind, draining from his body like a fruit squeezed of its juice. 

Not rejection. Maybe not acceptance, maybe not a confession or admission on Seonghwa’s behalf. But not rejection.

And with no rejection to be found, San knows what he must do.

He pulls away from Seonghwa’s lips, albeit not far, as he rests his forehead against the empath’s own. He can’t look Seonghwa in the eye for this, he knows it will make him too much of a coward to get the words out.

“I need to tell you something now,” San says.

Seonghwa’s voice is shaky as he speaks, quiet as his breath grazes San’s lips. “Okay.”

San holds his breath, as if he is about to dive underwater.

“I love you.”

There is a pause, and while San knows that realistically it is no more than a few seconds, it feels far more like an eternity as they pass by. He imagines all of the things Seonghwa could say. All the many variations of rejection or denial he could utter, ranging from a simple “no” to an entire memoir on why Seonghwa would never feel the same.

Seonghwa says none of these things. Instead he asks: “As in how?”

It takes San a moment to register what Seonghwa is asking. “As in I’m in love with you,” San clarifies.

“But…” Seonghwa starts, and in the moment’s pause he finally draws away from San’s face. When he looks at San, his face gives nothing away, a surprise given the empath’s often animated nature. Perhaps it is because he also does not know how he feels, how to respond to such a confession. Seonghwa does not smile, nor does he frown. His eyes do not light up with joy, nor do they swim with despair. 

In fact, the only emotion San can read is the wariness within Seonghwa’s gaze. A deep sense of caution. “What about Woo?” Seonghwa asks.

“I also love Woo.” San says, because it is true. Even after everything. Even after what happened at the beach the other night. Even with the line dug in the sand between them, a line that San himself has drawn, he knows that he will always love Woo. Always. 

Seonghwa frowns, eyebrows furrowing together into a puzzled look, as if the possibility of loving two people in such a way had never occurred to him before. As if the possibility of San loving two people in such a way were impossible. 

“I love him differently,” San admits, before thinking about it for a moment. “But at the same time, maybe not so differently either.”

“I don’t get it,” Seonghwa says, and for a moment San believes that he is talking about how San could love them both, but then Seonghwa clarifies: “How can you love me? For the last year you’ve kept me at such a distance. You’ve barely been able to touch me, let alone anything more than that.”

The words settle like a stone in San’s gut, and he thinks of their conversation at the fire after their run-in at The Desert Lotus. How Seonghwa had believed that he made San uncomfortable.

It was true. Touching Seonghwa did make San uncomfortable. Uncomfortable with how with each touch filled him with the desire to touch him more.

San’s voice is quiet as he speaks. “And why do you think that is, Hwa?”

“I don’t know,” Seonghwa answers, an immediate response, dejected as his gaze drifts away from San to look downwards. To Woo’s bed beneath them.

A flash of realization dawns on Seonghwa’s features, lighting up within the empath’s eyes. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” San says, unable to hide the amused smile that grazes his lips. “Oh.”

Seonghwa seems to consider this for a moment, before looking back up at San. “You know I love you too, right?

San’s eyebrows shoot up at this, and Seonghwa rushes to clarify. “Maybe not in the same way. Or maybe I do. I honestly don’t know. This is all new. I need some time to think about it.”

San nods. That’s fair. He hadn’t expected Seonghwa to immediately reciprocate his feelings. Although, maybe a little part of him deep down had foolishly hoped that he would.

Seonghwa seems to take note of the slight solemnity to San’s smile, and places his hand over the swordsman’s own. “But either way, I love you. And I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”                                             

“You won’t” San replies, and it is instant. It is instinct. It is the truth. “Take all of the time you need.”

“Thank you,” Seonghwa says, giving San’s hand a soft squeeze.

A moment of silence passes between them, and despite its slight awkwardness, San finds it the least tense he’s felt around Seonghwa in a very long time. It’s as if a weight has been taken off of his shoulders, finally free of the deep sense of guilt in the quiet moment’s between them. When San’s mind would wander, and he’d hate himself for thinking such things about his closest friend, and then hate himself even more for being too much of a coward to tell his closest friend what he was thinking.

But now Seonghwa knows. He knows. And no matter the outcome, no matter what he feels towards San in return, San no longer has to hide or wallow in his own guilt.

It is freeing.

Seonghwa takes a sip of his drink. “That was a good kiss though,” he mumbles over the rim of his glass, and San laughs. A real laugh, bubbling up from his chest. It’s been too long since he laughed like that.

Then, as if a reminder of how not all good things can last, Yeji bursts in through the tent flap.

“She’s gone,” Yeji says, voice cracking with shock and worry. She’s wrapped in her blanket to cover her nightgown, her hair falling in tangled red curtains over her shoulders, clearly having just woken up. “She’s gone and a horse is missing.”

San’s heart drops down into his stomach.

He doesn’t need to ask who the “she” is that Yeji refers to, nor does he need to question where you went.

You’ve gone to find Woo. Alone.

You've gone to find Woo, alone, amongst men who are willing to pay a fortune to see you dead.

“Fuck,” Seonghwa breathes, voicing San’s own thoughts.

“Do you know when she left?” San asks, as it couldn't have been long ago. It had to be some time after San came inside the tent, otherwise he would have noticed you sneak out.

“Her bed is still warm. So recently,” Yeji answers, confirming San’s suspicions. 

“Alright,” San breathes, before turning to Seonghwa. “Let’s go.”

Seonghwa nods in agreement, and without another word, they’re on their feet and heading out through the tent flap. Annoyance bubbles within San’s gut. He told you not to go. He told you to wait until he came up with a plan. A plan that meant getting both you and Woo to safety, not forcing you all to pick between one or the other. He is not one of the gods and has no interest in playing one.

You seem to have made the decision yourself, and while San resents you for not telling him or Seonghwa what you were planning, he understands why you did it.

Because San was never going to come up with a better plan. Time has been ticking since the moment he found the message scrawled in the alley, and his ideas have run dry. There is no better way, it was always going to end in you heading up the mountain to Woo’s aid. You wouldn’t have had it any other way, and deep down San knows he would have had it the same.

He just wishes that they were there with you. There to help you. To protect you. To kill these men with far too much power, who took everything from you.

Who took everything from him when they kidnapped Woo.

The sun has begun to set over the horizon as you ride along the Concorsus Mountain Pass.

An entire day having come and gone, your pace relentless as you rode in a restless pursuit, your body now aches in protest. Your thighs burn from their friction against the horse’s back, the muscles in your arms throbbing from maintaining your grip on the reins. Your stomach rumbles and groans, gnawing at your insides in hunger, head-pounding in demand of water.

But there is no time to eat or drink, not when only the god’s know what the black-clad men are doing to Woo.

You’ve had an awful lot of time spent in silence to consider the many possibilities of how they could be torturing him, all too gut-wrenching and grotesque to even think about. You try to push away the images of Woo bathed in blood, his face swollen with bruises and infected wounds. You hope that they have him in a room somewhere, untouched, awaiting your inevitable arrival.

You also recognize this as wishful thinking.

Pushing the thoughts from your mind, you focus on the trail ahead of you. The Concorsus Mountain Pass is not an easy ride, the ground full of jagged rocks and rolling hills that have put your elementary equestrian skills to the test. Looming cliffs rest on each side of you, the black-colour of the rock like two blankets of darkness threatening to crush you between them.

The black-clad men did not specify where along the pass you were to meet them, but as you continue to ascend higher and higher, the increase in altitude making you feel both dizzy and nauseous, you imagine that they are stationed at the mountain’s summit.

As far away from Bebbanburg and any chance at aid you could possibly be.

You swallow hard, riding onwards. You have no help here, no protection. Having abandoned the safety net that San and Seonghwa created, you are truly alone in this. Your only protection is the sword attached to your waist, as well as Minho’s elixir residing in your pocket— if you could even consider that protection. It’s old magic, not even the god’s know what it will do. You aren’t particularly keen on ingesting it.

But if it comes down to a choice between life and death, a matter of saving Woo, you will.

With this in mind, you approach a rock wall. It’s not particularly large, five-feet tall at most, but your horse whinnies in protest as it comes to a stop before it. You try to give it a bit of encouragement, but the animal does not budge, clomping its hooves in irritation.

You sigh. This is not a horse from the kingdom stables, bred to ride and trained to jump, you have to leave it behind. Letting yourself down from its back, you grab the cliff’s edge, pulling yourself up and over the wall. Crawling up off your knees, you cast the animal a glance backwards, to which it meets with its black marble eyes.

The horse continues to huff, neighing in frustration. You frown as the animal grows louder, squealing as it lifts up onto its back legs, crying out.

“What the…” you mutter to yourself.

“It’s trying to warn you,” a voice says from behind.

You twist around, hand reaching for the sword at your waist, but you are not fast enough. The stranger grabs your wrist as you turn around, his other hand digging into your scalp. He pulls your hair back, forcing you to look up at him.

He’s young, maybe only a couple years older than yourself, with dark eyes and pale skin. His light hair is made brighter through its contrast with the black armour he wears.

“Hey, Princess,” the man says, grinning. You spit in his face, but he simply laughs, giving your hair a sharp tug backward. His laughter is quickly accompanied by others, as more black-clad men appear from behind different dark rocks along the mountain walls. You count what appears to be a half-dozen of them, all different ages and sizes, appearances united only through the black armour they wear. 

Giving your body a sharp twist, you catch the man off guard, before giving him a swift knee to the groin. He lets out a groan, his grasp on your hair relinquishing itself as he stumbles backward.

You’re prepared to run, to jump down from the cliff and back to your horse in hopes of finding more allusive passage, when you feel the coolness of metal along your throat.

“You’ve gained some spunk since we last saw you,” the man holding the knife whispers, seizing your wrist as he tugs your arm behind your back. You wonder if he was one of the men that chased you down the corridors following the besiegement, that hunted you in your father’s library. That killed Mingi in the stable.

“Good,” another adds, although which of the men is speaking you cannot tell. “It’ll make this all the more enjoyable.”

You were correct about their base being set at the mountain’s summit.

The men have been dragging you with them for what you assume has been roughly an hour, the setting sun having finally fallen victim to the night’s darkness. Stars glitter in the sky above you, and they are the only light present besides the singular torch one of the men carries, alighting the mountain pass in an ominous, orange hue.

They’ve remained silent since your capture, although the glances and cunning grins they’ve exchanged between one another have spoken loud enough. You don’t know what exactly is waiting for you at the summit, but you know it isn’t pretty.

The cave you approach at the top of the mountain seems fitting, as it's possibly the most unwelcoming entry-way you’ve ever seen. Sharp rocks align its entrance, each of them bleached white from sun exposure, creating the illusion of a monster’s gaping mouth.

You swallow hard, fear curdling within your stomach. It’s fitting, as entering a beast's mouth seems an awful lot like what you are doing. 

Upon entering the cave, the initial darkness does not last long, as you spot light further up ahead of the winding tunnel. As you draw closer, you recognize the light to be lanterns, strown up and around the cave. The bustle of people fills your ears, their chatter growing louder with each passing step. When you finally leave the tunnel and enter the cave’s main area, you blink in surprise.

You aren’t sure what you were expecting. Solemnity, perhaps. A dark cave with minimal light, nobody talking. A monster’s domain.

Instead, it reminds you an awful lot of the refuge, albeit smaller. There are plenty of tents set up, people sharing in conversation between them. Others spend their time chopping firewood, or brushing dirt and gravel away from their own tent’s entrance. To the left of the camp-site is a massive ravine, haphazardly blocked off by wooden pegs stringed together with rope. You are not close enough to the edge to tell, but you imagine the fall to be  hundreds of feet down. Deadly.

You glance around, watching the many men bustling about, as if this were merely a war-camp and not the station of murderess assailants.

Then you see him.

Woo resides on a makeshift parapet in the center of the camp, chains clamped around his wrists that are attached to large stone pillars on both sides of him. He sits on his knees, head hanging out in front of him, his hair falling in a dark mop that hides face. It appears that if it weren’t for the chains holding his arms up, he’d have already crumpled over.

Your blood runs cold.

The talking comes to a quiet as you enter, the dozens of black-clad soldiers all turning away from their conversations or menial tasks to face you. “Look who we found wandering,” the man holding you says, bringing his knife up from your throat to your cheek. He presses the blade against your jaw, forcing you to look up, displaying your face to the many men watching you.

Some of the men begin to snicker, a few even cheer as the man pushes the blade a little harder, piercing your skin. You can feel the blood trickle down your neck, although the sensation feels more like a dream than reality, as you catch sight of a man walking towards you.

Not just any man, but the one that chased you through the library. The one that cornered you in the stables.

The man responsible for Mingi’s death.

He walks slowly, almost a saunter as he appears to be in no rush. His posture holds a sense of confident ease, of power, and you’re certain that he is the commander of this army. His narrow, wrinkled face adorns a thick black beard. His eyes are dark, sharp as they scan you up and down, a satisfied smile plastered across his lips.

“Well,” the commander says, his voice not particularly deep, but intimidating nonetheless. “We were beginning to think you wouldn’t come.”

You say nothing, merely stare back at him, venom in your gaze.

“I’m assuming you’re here to save your friend then,” he says, continuing despite your silence. “How very noble.”

You do not give him the satisfaction of a retort.

“You’ve become rather stoic since I last saw you,” the commander says, eyes flashing with something awful. Something cruel. “Before you wouldn’t stop screaming. Begging your other friend not to sacrifice himself— the tall silver-haired boy, wasn’t it?”

“Shut up,” you whisper, tears stinging in the backs of your eyes. They are born of rage, not sadness. You do not let them fall.

“I suppose this is some sort of retribution for that, isn’t it?” The man continues, tone calm, almost light. “He gave his life for you, so now you’ll give yours for another.”

“Shut up,” you repeat, this time louder and with far more bite.

“You should have heard him scream. You should have heard the sound it made when my sword entered him again and again-”

You’ve had enough of this. Tears sting your eyes, fists trembling at your sides. You don’t have to listen to this man, give in to his taunts. He simply wants to have some enjoyment before he kills you, some sick sort of pleasure. Your father always said it was impolite to play with your food, and for once you’d have to agree with him.

“Woo!” You shout, turning your attention away from the man in front of you, from his barbed provocation. When Woo does not look at you, nor move his head from its slumped position, you try again. “Woo, can you hear me?”

“Unfortunately, Wooyoung isn’t quite with us anymore,” the commander answers with a sigh, tone sympathetic, although the smile he wears is anything but. “Not mentally, anyway.”

You frown at the use of Woo’s full name. How does he know that? Did Woo tell him?

“What are you talking about?” You ask, your voice low as fury rises hot in your throat, pulsing within your mind.

The man grins. A mischievous, dangerous, evil grin. “Would you like to come and see?”

The commander nods towards the man holding you, giving a look that says— no, orders: “Let her go.” The man’s knife falls away from your throat as he reliquishes his grip on your arm. You can still feel the spot where his fingers were, aching where bruises will surely soon appear.

Nobody moves to grab you, and it strikes you that in this moment, you could try to flee. Bolt back down the tunnel, dozens of men sure to take after you and grab you once more. You’re certain they would be far less liberal on your second capture.

You could try and fight. Relinquish your sword from its sheath and take out as many as possible. It would likely be only one or two, considering they’d all be on you and you don’t have San here to coach you through it. By the god’s you wish that San were here.

But he is not, and thus instead of fleeing or fighting you follow the man, obeying as his hand beckons you forward. “Good girl,” he says, and your gut clenches in disgust, face twisting with repulsion.

If the commander is offended by the expression, he doesn’t show it. Instead he continues walking, the two of you winding past different groups of the black-clad men, each of their gazes falling over you. You feel like a gazelle in a den of lions, their stares hungry for your blood.

When you reach Woo, you take a step forward, unsure of what exactly you plan to do. Perhaps move the thick mess of tangled hair from his face, or give the chains some slack to loosen the pull on his wrists. You just need to do something.

The commander places an arm out, stopping you. “I wouldn’t get too close if I were you.”

“Well, good thing you’re not me,” you cut back through gritted teeth, moving towards Woo. You crouch down, reaching for the chain on his right wrist.

“Woo, I’m here,” you say, trying to keep your voice level, even as it shakes. The commander had suggested that Woo wasn’t mentally here, and while you aren’t sure exactly what that may mean, you know you should navigate this with caution. 

When your hand touches the chain around his wrist, Woo lets out an awful, blood-curdling noise. You’d describe it as a scream, but that would make it too human. It is nothing less than animalistic.

Flames emerge from the elemental’s palms, scorching your arm. You yank your hand away, wincing as pain bubbles within your fingers. Despite yourself, you step back, clutching your burnt hand.

Woo looks at you, except that he doesn’t really. Instead his eyes almost look through you, unfocused and distant, although that’s the least of what worries you about his appearance. 

Apart from the unsettling and distant look to his eyes, the whites of them have shifted to a strange and unnatural purple colour, like blooming lilacs during the spring season. It contrasts greatly against the many thick red veins expanding out from his pupils, which have spread across his iris’ in a way that reminds you of black marbles.

His wrists are laced with wounds, the metal of his bonds having heated up due to the fire he unleashed from his palms. The burns are clearly infected as they beam a revolting yellow, puss forming within their deep gashes. Those will scar, you have no doubt.

Sweat beads along Woo’s temple, trailing down his face and onto his neck. You hadn’t noticed it before, but his entire body is drenched, all of his clothes soaked through. He trembles, tremors seizing his body as he breathes heavily, chest heaving as he appears to not be able to get enough air.

“What did you do to him?” You whisper. The man chuckles.

“We gave him an elixir of sorts,” he answers, and your stomach twists at the thought. Old magic. The weight of your own potion grows heavy in your pocket.

Woo continues to shake, arms trembling as he continues to look through you. Tears form in his eyes as he begins to murmur beneath his breath, although what exactly you cannot make out. You didn’t know what the men would do to him, what state he would be in, but you never could have imagined this. Fury twists in your gut like a cheap ale, making you feel sick with ferocity.

“Why would you do this?” You ask, and it’s the question that has been pressing down on your shoulders ever since you watched the dagger enter your father's stomach. You twist towards the commander, and despite how he stands taller than you, you do not let yourself appear weak. Chin held up high, you meet his gaze.

“Why would you destroy my kingdom? Why would you spend so much time and effort hunting me across Burovia? Why would you place such an utter fortune of a bounty on my head?” You look him up and down. “Who are you?”

The man grins. “Me? I am nobody.”

“Enough games-” You snarl, but he merely shakes his head, giving you a dismissive wave.

“You think I care about a pampered royal brat bred by a kingdom of snakes?” The commander asks, his dark eyes glimmering in the many lantern’s light. “I couldn't care less about your disaster of a court, although I must say I enjoyed burning it to the ground.”

You frown. “Then why would you-”

“Because my employer cares,” he cuts you off, tone final. He folds his arms behind his back, a clicking noise filling the air as he taps his fingers along his black armor. 

“Who is your employer?” You press further, ignoring how the noise matches the beat of your racing heart, that’s pace only increases with each passing second.

“I am not to say,” he answers with a shrug.

You grit your teeth, frustration building in your chest. “If you plan to kill me then what does it matter?”

The man hums, grin growing wider with satisfaction. “Does it scare you, the possibility of never knowing?” He takes a step forward. “Does it terrify you to never know why your kingdom burned to ash, to never know why your father was murdered?”

The man is close now, peering down at you, the crow’s feet along the edges of his ageing eyes more prominent as he stands before you. He reaches forward, running two of his fingers along your bare cheek.

“Does it frighten you that you’ll never know why you died?” He asks.

You do not flinch, even as he touches you, even as your body demands it. “You do not scare me,” you lie.

He chuckles at this, his hand still placed on your cheek, his calloused fingertips rough against your skin. “Your eyes say otherwise.”

The commander reaches to his side, pulling out a knife. Its long blade is serrated, details of stars carved into its wooden hilt. It reminds you a bit of the one Seonghwa gave you, the one Woo took on that first night you met them.

He extends the blade out towards you, hilt settled neatly in his open palm. “Would you like to do the honours? Or should I?”

You stare at the knife out before you, its blade a cool white, almost glowing within the cave’s dim lighting. He’s offering you a choice. Not of whether or not you will die, but how. Or better, by whom.

To do the deed yourself, or have it done by his own hand. 

Your hand hovers out in front of you, fingertips a mere inch away from the hilt. You stare at the knife, at its cool iron, at its spotless white blade. Soon to be tainted. Your hand shakes despite your attempt to steady it.

It’s a horrible, horrible decision to make.

Fortunately, the arrow that embeds itself in the commander’s arm liberates you from making it.

Sticking out from the crook of his elbow, nestled within a small gap in armor that was designed for amplified movement, the man lets out a shocked groan of pain. The knife clatters on the cave’s rocky floor as he brings his hand to the wound, the blood emerging from the black fabric not noticeable until it coats his pale fingers.

In unison, both you and the commander twist in the direction from which the arrow flew.

Seonghwa stands atop a rock in the far corner of the cavern, bow drawn up, still in the position from which he let the arrow fly. You nearly let out a cry of relief. Joyous, unadulterated relief.

A scream cuts through the air, followed by the thud of a body hitting the floor.

There’s another noise, a gargled and choked sort of cry, and you hear the sharp sound of the many black-clad men unsheathing their swords before you actually see them do it.

This is because your focus is not on them. It’s on San, as he holds a body out before him. It’s one of the men that captured you on the mountain pass, the young blonde. San’s sword sticks out through the man’s chest, blood pooling out from his mouth as his eyes grow dim.

It’s immediate, how the cavern erupts into chaos.

“Seize them!” The commander orders his battalion, before ripping the arrow from his arm. Despite the blood leaking from the now open wound, his movements are agile as he removes the sword from his own sheath. The blade is as black as night, matching its shadowy hilt.

You stare him down, relinquishing your own sword, your mother’s sapphire glittering.

You prepare to take a step forward, however, something presses up behind your back. You prepare to twist around, strike the oncoming threat. However, San’s voice fills your ear, quiet as he speaks over his shoulder. “We move together.”

“Alright,” you breathe, lifting your long-sword out before you as San’s back presses into your own. “Together.”

The black-clad men attack.

They move at you from all directions. San places his free-hand along your waist, guiding you with him. The two of you move with the grace of one being, fending off the dark wave of men that surround you like a swarm of hornets defending their hive.

You swing at one of the men, catching his shoulder as San pushes on your left hip. You move with it, narrowly dodging the strike of a different enemy blade, the breeze of his swing cool against your cheek. The failed strike catches the owner of the blade off-balance, allowing you to seize the opportunity to stab your sword into the soft spot of his breastplate, straight through the opening just below the pit of his arm. The man cries out, face knotting together in agony as he falls to the ground.

You do not allow yourself the time to dwell on how you’ve likely just taken that man’s life, how there are even more to come, as you slice your sword along another soldier’s neck. Save yourself, save Woo, save your kingdom. You can mourn the horrors of your deeds later, for now that is all that matters.

You catch a glimpse of a man in the corner of your vision, hair the colour of flame as he sneaks in behind the soldier whose chest you currently run-through with your blade. You won’t reach him in time, his sword is raised high in the air, another second and he’ll bring it down on your neck-

An arrow shoots right through his skull, entering near his ear as the point sticks out the other side of his head. Blood sprays out from the wound, splattering onto your tunic. The man crumples to the ground, falling in the direction of the arrow’s path. Dead.

Your gaze shoots to Seonghwa. He stands atop the rock, eyes wide as his gaze falls to the man on the ground. The man he killed. Horror is plastered across his own expression, as if realizing what he has done. Woo had once told you that Seonghwa has only ever wounded with his arrows. He’s never killed, not even beasts.

You worry he will crumble, just as you did after the mimic, just as you had the first time you’d taken the life of something. Instead Seonghwa swallows hard, a glazed look to his eyes as he gives you a nod, before removing another arrow from his quiver. You have a sense he’s also saving his pain for later.

San tugs you to the left, and your gaze is pulled away from Seonghwa and back to the battle before you. A man swings at you, and you push backwards against San to avoid the swipe. You worry it will cause San to tumble, but instead he sinks lower on knees, flattening his back. Using it for support, you fall back and into the air, giving the man in front of you a firm kick to the chest that sends him backwards, crashing into a few of the men behind him.

You grin. It’s satisfying, watching the men who took everything from you struggle.

And struggle they do indeed. You and San work as a tight-knit unit as Seonghwa picks off the stranglers with his arrows, as well as those attempting to crawl atop his residing stone. 

“By the gods,” you think. “We’re winning.”

However, if you are aware of this, so is the man leading the operation. 

You search for the commander amidst the swarm of black armour surrounding you, trying to pin-point his dark beard and aging face. He doesn’t appear to be a part of the mob. 

“Do you know where he went? The commander?” You ask San, yelling over the sound of battle cries and the screams of the wounded. San does not respond immediately, likely searching for him amidst the crowd. 

San lets out a sudden growl of annoyance. “He’s with Woo.”

You glance over your shoulder, seeing the commander next to the elemental. He stands behind Woo, lips drawn close to his ear, hand placed on the elemental’s shoulder. You cannot hear what the commander is saying to him, but you know that it is nothing good. 

Woo’s eyes are wide, the purple where the white’s of his eyes should be growing darker. Tears stream down his face and they are a matching colour, like drops of ink. You can see Woo whispering something, and while you cannot make out the words, the desperation on his face makes you believe that he is begging. Although what he is pleading for you do not know.

Fire surrounds them, leaking from Woo’s fingertips and onto the cavern floor. The flames run thick, the consistency of molten lava. You’ve never seen that from an elemental before, didn’t even know it was possible..

“We need to make our way over there,” you say while stabbing your sword into the arm of a black-clad soldier. You can feel San nod his head in affirmation.

Wrapping his free hand tighter around your waist, San pulls you with him, the two of you spinning through an opening within the mob. You nearly trip over something, and upon looking down you see that it is a body. His dead eyes look up at you. They are a light hazel.

You would vomit if there was anything solid in your stomach.

San pulls you past the man before you can stare at him for too long, before you can memorize the features of his face, before you can wonder if it was he or you who killed him.

So much death. So much needless death. You close your eyes, only for the briefest of moments, for the split of a second. You imagine you are the person you had been a mere month ago. The girl who let her baths be drawn from her, her clothes picked out and placed on her body by others. The girl who sulked when Mingi left for battle training, who’d never held a sword in her hands, let alone ran someone through with it.

You open your eyes and know that you will never be her again. 

San continues to pull you with him through the opening within the dark swarm, letting go of your waist as the two of you break through and sprint towards Woo.

The commander continues to whisper into the elemental’s ear, more molten lava dripping from Woo’s hands. It forms in pools on the cavern floor, slowly trailing down the parapet in a way that reminds you of the baby basilisks, like long thin glowing snakes.

It’s not until now that you realize what the commander is doing, as Woo grows more and more affected by his words, blood-vessel’s bursting in his eyes as red mixes itself into the purple. A mosaic of burning hues.

The commander knows that he is losing, which means he’s pulling out a last resort, willing to play his wild-card. He plans to use Woo as a weapon. He’ll do whatever it takes to take you out, even if that means his battalion goes down with you. Bastard.

The commander steps back from Woo, walking over to the top of the chain tied to one of the stone pillars. He will set Woo free, grant him full range of motion with his gift. After all, an elemental can only summon flame with movement, with the dancing of their fingers or full swing of their arms.

Only Woo is not your average elemental.

Before the commander can finish untying the first chain, Woo screams. It’s not as animalistic as his last, but far, far more broken. Fire flares out from around him, a massive wave of curling flames that tumbles in all directions, standing over ten feet tall.

You grab San’s wrist, yanking him with you as you dive behind the nearest rock. Face pressed to the ground, you do not see the fire as it stretches over top of you, but you can feel its heat along your back even through your tunic. Screams echo from all around, bouncing off of the cavern's walls, and you know that not everyone was so lucky.

Once the heat disappears, both you and San are quick to settle onto your knees, peering up over the rock. Woo’s head has fallen back down, shrouded in tangled black hair, chest heaving as he catches his breath. The commander, who had fallen to the ground behind him, rises to his feet.

You gasp.

While it appears he managed to find shelter before the flames completely engulfed him, he also did not make it out unscathed. The left half of his face burns a bright red colour, the skin bubbling with boils in a way resembles lumps of flour in unkneaded dough. His dark hair is gone on the affected side, both on his face and the top of his head, smoke billowing out from his disintegrated scalp.

With so much of his skin burned off, his eye nearly pops from his head, stark against his bright red skin. He looks undead, like a walking skeleton, the teeth on the left side of his mouth permanently visible due to his upper lip having been incinerated. His gums bleed, the red almost glowing against the whiteness of his teeth.

Your gut twists at the sight of him, and you have to look away.

Black-clad soldiers sit slumped around the cavern, broken moans leaving their lips as the fire was not enough to kill them all. The agony of their cries fills your ears, and although you fight against it tears sting your eyes. You know that these are bad men, men who killed your father and countless innocents in the castle, who ruined your life and want nothing more than to see your end.

But right now they are just men. They are just human, each one with their own life and story, and they are dying a slow and horrible death.

The blow to the back of your head stops you from becoming too absorbed in remorse.

It comes sharp and quick, carrying the heaviness of what you assume is a rock, and your vision momentarily sways. It doesn’t knock you out, but it does throw you off balance, giving the attacker enough time to seize your wrist. They give it a sharp twist, causing you to let out a whine of pain as your sword clatters to the ground.

The culprit drags you from behind, and you fight to remain on your feet. You shout to San, and while he twists to face you he is moment too late, as the person from behind shoves you away from them.

And into the arms of the commander.

The commander grins, his smile even more unsettling with his missing lip as he casts an appreciative nod to the young, brunette soldier who had grabbed you. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck, uncomfortably tight as he turns you to face away from him, chest pressed against your back.

With his spare hand he holds a knife to your throat.

“Enough of this,” the commander says. “Put your weapons down.”

The world around you stills as San comes to a halt, gaze sharp as his good eye flickers between you and the commander, analyzing the situation. He appears to come to no solution as he slowly retracts his sword back into its sheath.

However, not everyone follows his orders.

“Let her go.”

Seonghwa no longer resides atop the rock, likely having dived behind it to avoid the flames. Now on the ground, he stands roughly twenty feet ahead of you, his bow up and arrow drawn.

“What an awful accent,” the man laughs, and his voice sounds more manic now that he is on the verge of defeat. Of death. His cheek presses to yours, and you can feel his spittle against your skin, smell the rotten tang of his breath. “Like a Mainlander that swallowed his tongue.”

Seonghwa’s frown deepens, eyebrows furrowing together as he pulls the bow taught.

“You let that arrow fly and we both go down with it, boy,” the commander warns, and you can hear the smile in his voice. Such an awful smile. “Choose wisely.”

For a moment you don’t understand what he means, but realization sinks like a stone in your gut. The ravine resides behind you, hundreds of feet deep, the belly of a monster whose darkness would swallow you whole. 

“Take your mutt and leave,” the man says to San, nodding towards Woo, who has returned to his slumped position, skin glistening with sweat as his arms tremble.

“So you can kill her as soon as we’re gone?” San bites back, tone venomous. “I don’t think so.”

“I promise to make it quick and painless,” the man says softly, before pressing the knife into your neck. Not deep, but enough to make you gasp in pain. “Otherwise I can make it very, very slow.”

Seonghwa’s hands grip tighter around the bow, San’s expression settling into a snarl of fury. However, neither of them move. If San moves to attack him, he’ll simply slice your throat. If Seonghwa fires the arrow, you’ll plummet with him. You try to reach Minho’s elixir in your pocket, but cannot manage it. Besides, even if you did manage to grasp it, there’s no way the commander would let you go long enough to down the liquid.

He has you cornered, and you all know it. 

Well, that is except for one of you. You turn to Woo.

The elemental does not look at you as you speak. “Woo,” you call, the knife sharp against your throat as it bobs. “Can you hear me?”

“No, he can’t hear you.” The commander whispers into your ear, and you can feel the hollowness of his cheek as he speaks, the rough and ruined texture of his skin.  “Or maybe he can, but who knows how much of him is even left in there.”

“Woo,” you call again, ignoring him, even as his words send a shiver down your spine. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but it’s me. It’s us, we’re all here. San, Seonghwa and I. We’re all here.”

Woo twitches at this, although he still does not lift his head. You hear him murmuring something beneath his breath, and it’s a moment until you can register what he is saying.

“You’re not real,” he whispers, voice shaky and blubbered. “You’re not real.”

You swallow hard. “I don’t know what he did to you, and I don’t know what you’re seeing or hearing or what’s going on, but I need you to lift your head.”

He doesn’t respond and you try again. “Please, Woo. Please, just lift your head for me.”

It takes a moment, but shakily, he does. His hair falls in dark matted clumps over his blood-shot, purple-stained eyes. His pupils still do not focus on you, a distant vacantness to the broken expression across his tear-stained face.

“Leave me alone,” he says, and it is a hoarse, beaten plea. “Please, please just stop. Let me die. Don’t bring me back. Please. I deserve it.”

Your heart twists at hearing Woo - confident, self-assured, unbreakable Woo - say something so self-demoralizing.

However, it’s with these words, these broken claims that he deserves it, that you have an idea of what horrors he may be seeing before him.

“Wooyoung,” you say, and you notice as Seonghwa’s brows furrow in confusion at the name, San raising an eyebrow. Perhaps it's the first time they’ve heard it. “Wooyoung do you remember our conversation by the fire?”

“Please just stop,” he whispers, shaking his head as more of the molten lava begins to leak from his hands.You don’t even know if he’s still listening, but this is your last shot, so you push on.

“You told me that you knew you should regret what you did to the wardens, that it should eat you up inside. But it didn’t, because they deserved it.”

Tears continue to stream down Woo’s face, which is contorted in a pained, agonizing expression. However, as he does not deny your words or continue his broken mumbling, you take his silence as a sign to continue.

“I haven’t been able to forgive myself for what I’ve done, and I don’t think I ever will,” you continue, and you know both San and Seonghwa are watching you as you can feel the heaviness of their gazes. The confused curiosity mixed with desperation that swirls within them, staring intently. Yet, you ignore them. You ignore the commander and the knife at your throat, the wails of agony in the air and the thick stench of burnt flesh.

Right now it is just you and the broken elemental before you. You and Woo.

“But that’s the difference between us,” you say, swallowing hard. “I chose to harm people that never deserved it.”

“Enough of this,” the commander says through gritted teeth, pressing the knife harder against your neck. Choking down the increasing pain, you ignore him.

“And you never deserved it Woo, any of it. Any of what Warden did to you, any of my father’s cruelty, any of my lies. None of it was ever deserved.”

Woo’s breathing begins to escalate, but this time it is not as if he’s having trouble taking in air, it’s as if he has realized that he finally can.

“Enough,” the commander says again, with more anger in his voice as he appears to come to the same realization about Woo as you do.

“You’re there,” Woo whispers. His gaze is still lost and distant, his limbs still trembling and words blubbered with misery and fear. But there is also something more. Something powerful.

“We’re here,” you say back, relief blossoming in your chest. Even as the commander twists the back of your wrist and you let out a cry of pain, you’re filled with an undeniable, unbridled sense of hope.

“We need your help, Wooyoung,” you say, and the elemental swallows hard in response.

“I can’t,” he says, voice a quiet breath as he shakes his head in denial.

“You can,” you say, tone firm. You have him, even if only for a moment, and you will not let yourself lose him again. “You’ve done it before.”

Wooyoung stops shaking his head as he realizes what you are suggesting.

“Stop this!” the commander says, and now he’s shouting. He means it as a demand, as a threat, but it sounds instead an awful lot like a plea.

“You can do it, Wooyoung,” you say, the softness leaving your voice and replacing itself with a hardened encouragement. You will not yield.

“How do you know?” He asks, and even though his voice shakes, its weakness has fallen away.

A grin spreads across your lips. Even with the knife to your throat, the burnt bodies around, and the commander rotting breath hot against your skin, you smile.

You smile because you know you’ve won.

“Because, Wooyoung,” you say. “He deserves it.”

You can feel the commander’s grip around the knife clench, his elbow brought higher as he prepares himself to slice it clean across your throat.

“I said enough-” 

A blast of heat ignites from behind you, burning hot along your back, and you instinctively push forward. The commander's grip loosens without protest, the knife within his hand falling to the ground, clattering against the cavern’s rocky floor. A strong stench floods your senses, the same horrid and sickening scent that had previously hung around the cavern, only now increased ten-fold.

You twist around, putting yourself face-to-face with the commander, who’s entire body is engulfed in flame.

His screams leave him like waves crashing along the shoreline, powerful and ominous amidst their build-up but shattered and broken upon their downfall. The fire spreads across his body in a way that is almost unnatural, hugging close to his flesh as it eats away at his skin, a vicious parasite devouring him whole. He stumbles, and you cannot make out his expression, his face covered in the burning orange glow. Perhaps it is better that way.

He reaches forward blindly, his flame-covered hands extended outwards as he searches for your body. Even in death, he seeks to take you with him. Find his glory, his vengeance, even if it’s accompanied by his final breath.

And yet, even with all he has done to you, Woo, and your family, you grant the commander one final mercy. 

A quick death.

Reaching forward, you place your palms flat against his chest, giving him a firm push. It burns your hands, although only for a moment, as he stumbles backwards. His foot catches on one of the pegs tied together with rope before the cliff, sending him tumbling backwards. Time appears to stand still for a moment, an eternity slipping by as he hangs in the air, a ball of glowing flame suspended above the ravine’s gaping mouth.

He falls, the glow like a spark slowly diminishing, until it disappears entirely. You do not hear him crash against what lays beyond the darkness.

There’s a moment of silence that follows as you stare over the ravine’s edge. You half-expect the commander to fly back upwards, to catch you in a moment of weakness, suddenly equipped with new fire abilities of his own.

He does not. There is only darkness.

You turn back around. Both San and Seonghwa stare at you, both of their expressions difficult to place. Mouths parted slightly and eyes wide, they appear to be in disbelief. Awe, even. You imagine your face looks the same.

Woo sits with head hung over, eyes closed. For a moment you fear he is dead, but from the shaky rise and fall of his chest, you know that he is merely unconscious. 

There is the sound of footsteps as the few black-clad men left unscathed flee down the cave’s passage-way, leaving you behind. 

“Well,” San whispers, his good eye drifting from you, to Seonghwa, to the scattered bodies around you, before finally settling on Woo. He laughs, shaky and unsure, but at the same time so, so sincere. “Fuck.”

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

next chapter coming soon.

thank you for reading! feel free to come chat with me about any thoughts you may have, feedback is the one thing that keeps me going tbh. also, if you’re bored in the meantime, here are both my ateez and skz masterlists for your convenience. i hope to see you around :3