#i love the moral ambiguity of having to kill to survive

[alcriti]

i think i was onto something when i mentioned in dialogue: "He taught us how to hunt, but only in ways that benefitted him. On our own, though? We were completely helpless. With half an instinct and chained to an invisible leash, it's no surprise that when left to our own we can be… sloppy."

this has been on my mind a lot bc when laera and astarion go off on their own mission, there doesn't exist a constant of source of enemies for him to feed him on — not like when they were traveling with the larger party. "no innocents" is a rule he still follows, and he will defer to animals if absolutely pressed, but it isn't his first choice. now, astarion having to feed when it's just the two of them has become a hurdle to overcome: laera worries for his safety when he prowls the streets alone, and there's an elevated danger for them both that it will be discovered he's a vampire.

all to direct back at my first point: there was no training on how to be a vampire. astarion does know how to hunt, but not really as a vampire that feeds on humanoid targets within civilised society. he was never allowed to feed on humanoids; his only purpose was to get victims from one point to the next by whatever means it required. but feeding?? there wasn't a need to consider the things he has to now. cazador shielded him from suspicion; his companions conveniently provided him a source of sustenance; their travels ( and the locations ) made it easy to go unnoticed and avoid suspicion.

astarion has to depend on his own adaptability to keep himself sustained, while having to learn how to survive without the things that made all of this easy, and kept him protected.

[aventurineswife]

Okay skibidi hear me out, Penacony men with a s/o who was originally in a planet similar to alien stage.

I’ve been imaging random scenarios in my head and it WONT LEAVE ME ALONEEEEEE. How would the react learning that their s/o was artificially made with a older sibling? Or how they were actually naive as a child because how shielding they were by their older sibling only to find out the truth after preforming agaisnt them?

Reader joins the rebellion is just… hhshshshshdjdc I NEEDDDDD

The Cost of Freedom

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Gallagher x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Dystopian Themes, Found Family, Betrayal, Loss, Post-Rebellion, Grief, Existentialism, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Political Intrigue, Introspection, Trauma Recovery, Redemption Arc, Ambiguous Morality.

Warnings: Death of a Family Member (sibling), Themes of Guilt and Self-blame, Descriptions of Emotional Turmoil and Grief, Systemic Oppression and Rebellion, Brief Mentions of Violence and War, Ethical Dilemmas involving Loyalty and Survival, Existential Crises related to Purpose and Creation.

Aventurine’s eyes narrowed as you recounted your origins—a distant planet where you and your sibling were engineered to be perfect instruments of a system you barely understood. Your older sibling had shielded you from the harsh truth, ensuring your life felt whole and untainted. They had been your protector, your guide, until you uncovered their compliance with the oppressive regime you eventually came to hate.

When you told Aventurine how you performed against your sibling during the rebellion, how their face had twisted in a mixture of heartbreak and betrayal as you dealt the final blow, his constant smile faltered for the briefest moment.

“I see,” he said, voice smooth but quieter than usual. “So, you won the bet, didn’t you? Sacrificed the thing you loved for the chance to topple the system.”

He knew the cost of winning far too well.

You nodded, the weight of that victory still pressing against your chest. "But it didn’t bring me peace. It broke me. I killed the only family I ever had."

Aventurine stepped closer, his fingers brushing against your trembling hand. "Family," he murmured, "is a luxury for people who play safe. You and I? We take risks. We burn bridges because standing still is a death sentence."

Though his words carried a glimmer of understanding, you could see it in his eyes: the gamble of loving you was one even he might not win.

And yet, in the quiet moments when you were plagued by memories of your sibling’s dying expression, Aventurine stayed by your side, speaking of strategies and victories you’d never dare chase. Because Aventurine, for all his charm and cunning, understood what it meant to run from the ghosts of the past.

Even if neither of you could outrun them forever.

Ratio gazed at you, his expression unreadable as you revealed the truth of your existence: you were a creation, not born but made, shaped to fit a purpose beyond your control. Your sibling had shielded you, nurturing your innocence and curiosity while silently shouldering the burden of knowing the truth.

“I learned,” you said, voice trembling, “the truth during the rebellion. I had to… to confront them. To stop them from silencing me—us.”

The rebellion had been chaos, a crucible of innovation and destruction, and in the end, your sibling had fallen at your hands. They had looked at you, not with anger, but with pride and a heartbreaking sorrow.

Ratio leaned forward, his hair falling over his eyes. "You see it as a betrayal. But tell me—did they have a choice? They protected you because they believed you deserved better, even if it cost them everything. Including you."

His words stung because they rang true.

“Is that supposed to help me?” you snapped, tears threatening to spill.

“No,” he admitted, his tone unapologetic. "But it should make you see the brilliance in their actions. They didn’t protect you out of weakness but out of brilliance, out of love."

He reached out, his hand hesitating before brushing against your cheek. "Knowledge is cruel, my dear. It’s a weapon, and it cuts us as deeply as it cuts others. But you—" His gaze softened. "You must decide whether their sacrifice will shackle you or set you free."

Ratio would never admit it, but he saw echoes of himself in your story—an intellect burdened by loss, trying desperately to find meaning in a world that seemed too cruel to deserve it.

The dim lighting of Gallagher's bar cast long shadows over his scarred face as you finally shared your story. You told him of your artificial origin, of how your sibling had raised you in a cocoon of safety, only for you to shatter it when you learned the truth.

“I didn’t mean to fight them,” you whispered, fingers tracing the rim of your glass. “But they wouldn’t stop. They believed in the system, even when it was killing us.”

Gallagher’s eyes flickered with a rare hint of emotion. "And so, you ended it. You chose freedom over them."

"I didn’t choose," you said, voice cracking. “I survived. That’s all it was. I survived, and they didn’t.”

He said nothing for a moment, only pouring another drink. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and rough. "Surviving doesn’t feel like winning, does it?"

You looked up at him, surprised.

"I’ve been there," he continued, his hand unconsciously brushing the scar on his face. "Fighting for something you believe in, only to lose the people you care about most. The world doesn’t stop turning, but you carry them with you. Every step, every breath, they’re there."

“Does it ever stop hurting?” you asked, the weight of your grief pressing down on your chest.

Gallagher shook his head. "No. But you learn to live with it. And maybe… you find someone who makes the weight a little easier to bear."

For the first time, you saw the man beneath the stoic facade—a kindred spirit who knew the ache of loss and the struggle of moving forward.

Sunday listened in silence as you recounted your origins, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. When you spoke of your sibling’s betrayal—how they shielded you from the truth of your existence and the oppressive system that controlled your lives—his gaze softened, though his expression remained inscrutable.

“You killed them,” he said, his voice quiet. “The one who protected you. Loved you.”

“I had no choice,” you said, guilt choking your words. "They stood in my way. I—"

Sunday raised a hand, silencing you. "You don’t need to explain. I understand."

You stared at him, disbelief flickering in your eyes. "How could you possibly understand? They were my family, and I destroyed them."

He stood, his regal presence imposing yet strangely comforting. "Do you think I haven’t made sacrifices? That I haven’t hurt the ones I loved in the name of peace?"

You faltered, unsure of how to respond.

“My Sweetdream Paradise,” he continued, his tone heavy with conviction, "was born from the same pain you carry now. A dream of mercy, built on the ruins of lives I once cherished."

“But at what cost?” you asked, tears streaming down your face.

Sunday stepped closer, his gloved hand resting lightly on your shoulder. "That is the question we must all face, isn’t it? The cost of peace. The cost of freedom. It’s a burden you and I will carry for the rest of our lives."

His words resonated with a truth you couldn’t deny. Sunday, for all his composure and grace, was a man shaped by loss—just like you. And though his dream of a perfect world seemed impossible, you couldn’t help but wonder if, in his own way, he was trying to atone for the same sins that haunted you.

[thequeenofneverland1]

Hwang In-ho/Frontman///The Art of Manipulation

Anonymous: can I request a request where your his wife and you join the games so you can destroy the plan or gi-hun and his group

Warnings: Violence, death, psychological Manipulation, betrayal, Trauma, Moral ambiguity, tension and anxiety, depression and despair, Survival situations, intense romantic relationships, isolation, Manipulation of power dynamics and dark themes

You are the granddaughter of Oh Il-nam, the mastermind behind the games. Despite his twisted role in creating the cruel competition, you grew up with a deep bond with him, unaware of his darker dealings. When your family was killed, Il-nam adopted you, raising you as his own. He was a complex figure in your life but he’s was kind and loving at home, but always carrying an air of mystery. Over time, you came to understand his involvement in the games, a revelation that shook you to your core.

Rather than turning away, you found yourself pulled deeper into his world. He began to share his reasoning, his ideals about human nature, and the philosophies that fueled the games. At first, you resisted, horrified by what he had built, but eventually, you found a way to make your mark. You contributed to the design of some of the games, ensuring they were not only challenges of survival but also intricate puzzles that tested strategy and willpower. It became a way to reconcile the morality of the games with your own sense of justice though the line between right and wrong blurred more with each passing year.

During this time, you met Hwang In-ho, known to most as the Front Man. At first, your interactions were purely professional. He was stoic, disciplined, and fiercely loyal to the operation. But as you spent more time together behind the scenes, you saw the man beneath the mask—a deeply wounded soul who had his own reasons for becoming part of this twisted world.

For two years, your relationship built on shared understanding, trust, and a connection born from navigating the moral gray area of the games. He was the only person who truly understood the weight of your inheritance and the choices you had made to stay by Il-nam’s side. Eventually, the secrecy was no longer enough. You married in a private ceremony, with only a handful of trusted individuals present. Your life together was unconventional, shaped by the darkness of the games, but it was a life you chose together.

Now, as Il-nam’s health deteriorates, you and In-ho find yourselves at a crossroads. You hold power and influence within the games, but the legacy you’re building is far from clear.

Even though you and In-ho are married, your relationship is far from conventional. The two of you thrive on a fiery dynamic that constantly keeps things interesting. In the world of the games, where everything is a matter of control and strategy, you and In-ho have developed a habit of acting like rivals. It’s not unusual for the two of you to engage in sharp banter or challenge each other’s decisions, all while maintaining an undercurrent of mutual respect and undeniable chemistry.

One evening, while reviewing the logistics of the next round of games, you find yourselves at odds again.

“You’re making it too easy,” you say, leaning over the table where the blueprints for the next game are laid out. “Where’s the challenge? Where’s the thrill?”

In-ho crosses his arms, the polished mask he wears as the Front Man slipping slightly to reveal a faint smirk. “Easy? I don’t recall you having any complaints about the last game’s ‘simplicity.’ Or did you forget how many players didn’t even make it past the first round?”

You scoff, leaning closer to him, your eyes locking. “Oh, please. I could’ve designed something far more creative. You’re playing it safe.”

“Safe?” His voice dips into a dangerous, teasing tone. “Careful, jagiya. If you think you can do better, why don’t you take over entirely?”

“Maybe I will,” you fire back, stepping around the table to close the distance between you. Your voices are low but heated, the tension crackling in the air.

His smirk deepens, and his hand rests on the edge of the table, his fingers tapping in mock impatience. “You’re forgetting who’s in charge here,” he says, his tone daring.

“And you’re forgetting that I don’t take orders from anyone, least of all you,” you retort, standing toe-to-toe with him now.

For a moment, neither of you speaks, the room thick with a mixture of challenge and desire. Then, as if on cue, the argument dissolves in an instant. In-ho grabs your wrist, pulling you closer, and your lips crash together in a heated kiss. It’s intense, passionate, and utterly consuming, a testament to the fire that fuels your relationship.

When you finally pull apart, your breath comes in short gasps, and he’s grinning in that maddeningly confident way of his. “Admit it,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. “You love this.”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “Love what? Kissing you or proving you wrong?”

“Both,” he says smugly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

You shake your head, stepping back to regain your composure. “Don’t get used to it. Next time, I’m winning the argument.”

“Next time?” he repeats, his tone amused. “You mean in about five minutes?”

And just like that, the rivalry begins anew, both of you knowing full well how it will end. But that’s the beauty of your relationship every clash, every debate, only draws you closer, a fiery dance that always culminates in the same way: with love, passion, and the undeniable truth that, no matter what, you are equals in every sense of the word

Later that evening, after your latest argument had ended the way it always did with a kiss. you found yourself sitting in In-ho’s lap in h your private shared quarters. The dim lighting cast shadows across the room, highlighting the sharp angles of his face and the glint of mischief in his dark eyes. His arm was wrapped securely around your waist, holding you close as if you might slip away at any moment.

“You know,” he began, his voice smooth and teasing, “you like to accuse me of hiding behind my mask. But let’s talk about yours, sweetheart.”

You raised an eyebrow, pretending not to understand. “What are you talking about?”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rich. His free hand brushed a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your skin. “Don’t play coy. You wear your mask just as much as I wear mine. You hide behind your sharp words, your cold stares, and that oh-so-perfect composure. But I know better.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, though you kept your expression neutral. “And what do you think you know, In-ho?”

He tilted his head, studying you like he was unraveling a mystery. “I know you’re scared.”

“Scared?” you echoed, a touch defensive.

He smirked, his hand moving to cradle your jaw gently. “Scared that if you take off that mask, you’ll have the entire world at your feet. That your beauty, your power, your brilliance. it’s too much for anyone to handle. You think you’re protecting people by keeping it all locked away, but let me tell you something, jagiya.”

His voice dropped, becoming a husky whisper as his eyes locked with yours. “You’re already attacking me with that beauty of yours. Every time I look at you, it’s like you’re daring me to lose control. So maybe…” He reached over to the table beside him and picked up your mask, holding it out to you with a knowing grin. “Maybe you should put this back on before you completely ruin me.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, shaking your head at his dramatic words. “Ruin you?” you teased, taking the mask from his hand. “Aren’t you being a little over the top?”

“Not at all,” he replied smoothly, leaning in until his lips brushed against your ear. “You’ve been ruining me since the day we met, jagiya. And the worst part is…I don’t even mind.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine, his words and proximity leaving you breathless. For a moment, you simply stared at him, your mask forgotten in your hand. “You’re impossible,” you murmured, your voice softer now.

“And yet, here you are,” he countered, his grin widening.

You couldn’t argue with that. Instead, you leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips, soft and lingering. When you pulled back, you smiled and said, “Maybe I’ll keep the mask off, just to see how much I can ruin you.”

He chuckled, his hand tightening around your waist. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t tempt me. You might just find out who really wins this game of ours.”

The tension between you lingered, heavy and intoxicating, as you stayed in his lap, neither of you willing to break the moment. In the chaotic world you both lived in, these moments of playful intimacy were your sanctuary, a reminder that even in the darkest of places, you had each other.

The quiet of the control room was interrupted by a crackle of static from the walkie-talkie sitting on the console in front of you. You leaned back slightly in In-ho’s lap, glancing toward the device as a monotone voice broke through.

“Sir, Ma’am,” the guard said, his tone steady but tinged with urgency. “The VIPs have arrived.”

You exchanged a quick look with In-ho, your playful banter immediately replaced with the seriousness of your roles. His hands slid from your waist, and his demeanor shifted effortlessly into the cold, commanding presence of the Front Man.

“Understood,” he replied into the walkie-talkie, his voice deep and authoritative. “Escort them to the viewing room. We’ll be there shortly.”

The walkie-talkie crackled again as the guard acknowledged his command, and then silence returned. For a moment, neither of you moved, the weight of what lay ahead settling between you.

In-ho’s hand moved to your lower back, gently guiding you to stand. You rose from his lap, smoothing the fabric of your coat and adjusting your posture as you mentally prepared yourself.

“Well,” you said, your tone calm but edged with a hint of sarcasm, “time to entertain the most morally bankrupt people on the planet.”

In-ho stood as well, reaching for his mask. He paused, turning to look at you, his expression softening ever so slightly. “And yet, they think they’re better than everyone else,” he murmured.

You let out a dry laugh. “The irony’s almost impressive.”

As he secured his mask over his face, he reached out, placing a gloved hand on your arm. “You know the drill,” he said, his voice now filtered through the mask. “Smile when necessary, stay sharp, and don’t let them get under your skin.”

You nodded, grabbing your own mask and slipping it on. As much as you hated the VIPs, you’d long since learned to play the game smiling at their disgusting comments, feigning politeness as they threw around their wealth and power like toys. But it always left a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Let’s get this over with,” you said, your voice firm and resolute.

In-ho stepped closer, his gloved hand brushing against yours for the briefest moment. It was a silent gesture, a subtle reassurance that you were in this together, as always.

With that, the two of you exited the control room, walking side by side down the long, dimly lit corridors of the facility. The sound of your footsteps echoed in the silence, a sharp reminder of the roles you played in this twisted game.

As you approached the VIP lounge, the air grew heavier, charged with the knowledge of what was to come. You could already hear faint laughter and chatter from behind the doors, the grating sound of arrogance and entitlement.

In-ho stopped just before the entrance, turning to look at you. Though his face was obscured by the mask, you could feel the intensity of his gaze. “Remember,” he said quietly, “they think they’re in control. Let them.”

You nodded, your hand brushing briefly against his arm in silent acknowledgment. Together, you pushed open the doors, stepping into the opulent lounge where the VIPs awaited The show had begun.

The VIP lounge was as garish as ever gold accents, velvet seating, and crystal chandeliers designed to impress the kind of people who demanded excess at every turn. The smell of cigars and expensive cologne filled the air, making your nose wrinkle beneath your mask. A group of men lounged around the room, clad in absurd animal-themed masks that barely concealed their smug expressions.

The chatter among them died down as you and In-ho entered, your presence commanding immediate attention. They always reacted this way to the Front Man, but you could feel their eyes lingering on you as well. Over time, you had learned to endure their lingering stares, their hushed whispers about who you might be under the mask.

“Well, well,” one of the VIPs said, his voice dripping with amusement as he leaned forward on the couch. His golden tiger mask glinted under the warm light. “The infamous Front Man and his wife. It’s always such a pleasure to see you two.”

In-ho ignored the comment, striding toward the center of the room with an air of authority. His presence silenced any remaining murmurs. You followed closely, your shoulders squared, keeping your posture as composed as ever.

“Welcome back,” In-ho said, his voice firm but polite. “I trust your accommodations have been to your liking?”

Another VIP, this one wearing a mask resembling a lion, let out a low chuckle. “Oh, always. You never disappoint, Front Man. You and your… lovely wife here really know how to host.”

You bit back the sharp retort rising in your throat, instead offering a slight tilt of your head. “We aim to please,” you said smoothly, your voice neutral but calculated.

The lion-masked VIP clapped his hands together, leaning forward with obvious enthusiasm. “So, tell us! What’s in store for today’s games? You’ve outdone yourselves every year, but I hear this batch of contestants is particularly interesting.”

In-ho’s gaze swept over the room, his masked face giving nothing away. “You’ll see soon enough,” he replied, his tone clipped. “The games will begin shortly, and I assure you, they will not disappoint.”

The tiger-masked VIP laughed, his voice echoing through the room. “Ah, you’re always so dramatic, Front Man. I like that about you. And your wife. what a pair you two make. Beauty and control.”

Your jaw clenched beneath your mask, but you maintained your composure, standing silently beside In-ho. He turned his head slightly toward you, just enough for you to feel his unspoken reassurance.

“As I said,” In-ho continued, ignoring the comment, “you’ll see soon enough. For now, enjoy the refreshments.”

He gestured toward the lavish spread of food and drinks set up along one side of the room and the VIP started to dig in laughing as they watched the games and starting to bet their money

“They’re worse than usual,” you muttered, your voice laced with frustration.

In-ho glanced at you, his mask obscuring his face, but his tone carried a hint of dry amusement. “They’re always like this. They enjoy testing boundaries.”

“They enjoy being insufferable,” you corrected, earning a quiet chuckle from him.

“True,” he admitted, his hand brushing briefly against yours as you and him watched. “But they’ll get what they came for. That’s all that matters.”

You nodded, your focus shifting back to the task at hand. The games were about to begin, and you both had a role to play. There was no room for distractions or not yet, at least.

The evening dragged on as the VIPs indulged in their usual excesses, but finally, they departed to their quarters, leaving you and In-ho alone in the observation lounge. The silence that followed was a welcome reprieve from their grating laughter and self-important commentary. You let out a deep sigh, sinking into one of the chairs as you removed your mask and set it on the table.

“Finally,” you muttered, rubbing your temples. “I don’t know what’s worse dealing with the players or dealing with them.”

In-ho chuckled softly as he removed his own mask, setting it beside yours. “The VIPs are predictable, at least. The players… they’re the wild cards.” He poured himself a drink from the decanter on the table, then poured one for you, setting it in front of you before taking the seat beside you.

You picked up the glass and swirled the liquid thoughtfully. “Speaking of the players… we need to talk.”

His brow furrowed slightly as he took a sip of his drink. “About what?”

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I want to join the game.”

His reaction was immediate. He set his glass down with a sharp clink and leaned forward, his dark eyes narrowing. “Absolutely not.”

“Honey, listen to me,” you said, leaning closer to him, your tone insistent but calm. “We need to do this. If we don’t, Gi-hun and his group are going to destroy us and everything we’ve built.”

“And what, exactly, makes you think joining the game is the solution?” he asked, his voice laced with frustration. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that would be?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Of course I know how dangerous it is. But you’re the one who let him back in, remember? If we’re going to contain this, we need someone on the inside. Someone they’ll trust.”

His eyes flashed, and he sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. “So, you’re saying this is my fault?”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Kind of. But it’s my fault too. I let this go on as much as you did.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “That doesn’t mean you need to put yourself in harm’s way. We can handle this without you stepping into the game.”

“No, we can’t,” you argued, your voice firm. “Think about it. I can get close to Gi-hun and the others. Befriend them, earn their trust. And when the time comes…” You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Boom.”

His jaw tightened, and you could see the conflict in his eyes. He hated the idea, hated the thought of you being in danger, but he also knew you were right.

“You’re asking me to let you walk into the lion’s den,” he said finally, his voice low and strained. “Do you understand what you’re asking me to do?”

“I do,” you said softly, reaching out to place a hand on his. “But it’s the only way, In-ho. We’ve worked too hard to let it all fall apart now.”

For a long moment, he was silent, staring down at your hand on his. Then he exhaled heavily, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Fine,” he said quietly. “But we do this on my terms. I’m not letting you go in there without a plan and without my protection.”

You smiled, relief washing over you. “Thank you.”

He shook his head, his expression softening as he looked at you. “Don’t thank me yet. If anything happens to you…” His voice trailed off, and he reached out to cup your face in his hands. “I can’t lose you, jagiya.”

“You won’t,” you promised, leaning into his touch. “I’ll be careful. And I’ll come back to you.”

He pulled you closer, his lips meeting yours in a fierce, desperate kiss. It was as if he were trying to pour all his fears, all his love, into that single moment. You melted against him, your arms wrapping around his neck as the kiss deepened.

The tension in the room shifted, giving way to something more intimate, more urgent. He pulled you onto his lap, his hands gripping your waist as his lips moved against yours. For a little while, the danger, the games, and the VIPs all faded away, leaving just the two of you.

Later, as you lay tangled together in the quiet aftermath, he held you close, his hand tracing lazy patterns on your back. “Promise me you’ll be careful,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

“I promise,” you said, pressing a kiss to his chest.

And though the morning would bring new challenges, for now, you allowed yourselves this brief moment of peace, holding onto each other as though your lives depended on it.

The door to the dormitory slammed shut behind you with a heavy, metallic clang, the sound reverberating through the cavernous space. The air inside was thick with tension and the unmistakable scent of sweat and fear. Conversations that had been loud and chaotic moments before died down into hushed whispers as every pair of eyes turned toward you.

You could feel their gazes burning into you curious, wary, and filled with suspicion. The other players, clad in identical green tracksuits, sat or stood frozen in place, their numbers emblazoned on their chests. You walked slowly, your movements calculated, as you made your way further into the room. The stark white number 002 stitched onto your suit was impossible to miss, drawing even more attention.

“Who is she?” someone muttered from the corner.

“Number 002? How’d she get that number?” whispered another voice, sharp with curiosity.

“She wasn’t here before… was she?”

You ignored the whispers, your head held high, your face calm and composed. You had expected this reaction. Being one of the lowest numbers in the games wasn’t just a rank. it was a statement of seniority, one that no doubt confused and alarmed the players who were already struggling to make sense of their situation.

Your gaze swept across the room until it landed on a group clustered near the center. Gi-hun and his team—Jung-bae, Dae-ho, Hyun-ju, and Gyeong-seok were sitting together, their eyes fixed on you with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. Unlike the others, they didn’t whisper. They just stared, sizing you up in silence.

Gi-hun, ever the natural leader, was the first to move. He stood up slowly, his expression cautious but not unfriendly. “Hey,” he called out, his voice carrying over the quiet murmurs. “You’re new here, right?”

You stopped a few feet away, crossing your arms as you looked at him. “Something like that.”

The others exchanged glances, their suspicion deepening. Hyun-ju, the sharp-eyed woman who always seemed ready to pounce, narrowed her eyes at you. “How’d you get that number?” she asked bluntly. “002? That’s not just some random assignment.”

You gave a small, enigmatic smile. “Maybe I’ve been here longer than you think.”

That answer only seemed to make them more uneasy, and you could practically see the gears turning in their heads. Dae-ho, the stocky, muscle-bound one, frowned. “If you’ve been here so long, where’ve you been? We’ve never seen you before.”

“Does it matter?” you countered smoothly. “I’m here now.”

Gi-hun studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he gestured to the empty space beside him. “Why don’t you sit with us?”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the offer. “Just like that? No questions, no conditions?”

He shrugged. “We could always use another ally. And something tells me you’re not like the others.”

Hyun-ju scoffed. “You’re too trusting, Gi-hun. She could be dangerous.”

“She’s dangerous,” Jung-bae, the lanky strategist of the group, said quietly. His sharp eyes flickered over you, assessing every detail. “But so is everyone else here. The question is, what’s her angle?”

You met his gaze evenly, unbothered by his scrutiny. “My angle is survival. Same as yours.”

For a moment, the group was silent, tension crackling between you and them like static electricity. Then Gyeong-seok, the quiet but perceptive one, finally spoke up. “If she wanted to hurt us, she would’ve done it already. She had the perfect chance when she walked in.”

Gi-hun nodded, his expression softening slightly. “Exactly. So, what do you say?”

You hesitated for a moment, weighing your options. Joining Gi-hun’s group could give you the access and cover you needed to execute your plan, but it also meant placing yourself squarely in their line of fire if they started to suspect your true motives.

Finally, you gave a small nod and walked over to them, lowering yourself onto the bench beside Gi-hun. His group shifted slightly, their body language still guarded, but they didn’t object.

“You won’t regret this,” Gi-hun said, offering you a small, genuine smile.

You returned the smile, though yours was tinged with something darker, something they couldn’t quite place. “I hope not,” you replied, your voice soft but firm.

As the whispers in the dormitory began to die down, the group resumed their quiet planning, and you listened intently, filing away every detail. Already, you could see the cracks in their unity, the subtle power dynamics at play. It was only a matter of time before you found the perfect moment to strike.

For now, though, you played your role, blending into the group while keeping your true intentions hidden. If they suspected anything, they didn’t show it. And as the games loomed ever closer, you couldn’t help but feel a thrill of anticipation.

This was your stage now, and every move you made would bring you one step closer to ensuring your survival and your success.

The group sat in a loose circle around you, their curiosity thick in the air as Gi-hun leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “So,” he began, his voice calm but probing, “you’ve got us all wondering. What’s your story, 002? Where do you come from?”

You hesitated, letting the silence stretch just long enough to draw them in further. The truth of your story wasn’t something you shared lightly, and the thought of dredging it up filled you with a familiar ache. But you knew what you were doing. If you wanted their trust, you had to give them something real, something raw.

“My name is Y/N,” you said finally, your voice soft but steady. “And my story… well, it’s not a happy one.”

The group exchanged glances, sensing the weight in your tone. Gi-hun nodded, encouraging you to continue.

“I lost my family when I was a child,” you said, your gaze fixed on the floor as if the memories were too heavy to meet their eyes. “It happened on my birthday. I was turning nine.”

The words hung in the air, and the room seemed to grow quieter, the faint hum of the facility’s machinery the only sound.

“My dad…” you began, pausing as the memories clawed their way to the surface. “He wasn’t anyone important. Just a worker for a mafia family. But he was smart, loyal. He worked his way up, gained their trust. Eventually, they made him their right hand.”

A bitter smile tugged at your lips. “I think he thought we’d finally made it. He was so proud of what he’d accomplished. But not everyone was happy for him.”

The faces around you grew more solemn, their interest genuine now. Even Hyun-ju, who had been the most skeptical, seemed to soften, her sharp gaze fixed on you.

“There was this employee,” you continued, your voice trembling slightly. “He’d been with the family for years, longer than my dad. But he never got promoted, never earned their trust. He was jealous, angry. And one day, he decided to take matters into his own hands.”

Your breath hitched as the memory hit you like a freight train, vivid and merciless. “It was my birthday. My mom and dad had planned a small party. Just us, my older sister, my second brother, and me. We didn’t have much, but my mom baked a cake, and my dad brought home these little party hats. They were so proud.”

The words faltered, and you closed your eyes, the scene playing out in your mind like an old, worn-out film.

Flashback

You were crouched under the couch, your tiny hands clamped over your mouth to stifle your sobs. The scent of birthday candles lingered in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood. From your hiding spot, you could see everything.

Your sister had been the first to fall. She’d stood up trying to hide you from the intruders. “Don’t hurt them!” she’d screamed, her voice desperate and defiant. But her bravery hadn’t mattered. The man had raised his gun and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

You’d watched in horror as your brother tried to fight back, his fists clenched in a futile attempt to protect your family. He hadn’t even made it two steps before the gunshot echoed again, and he collapsed beside your sister.

Your parents had begged, pleaded for mercy. Your mom’s voice cracked as she sobbed, “Please, our children… don’t do this!” But their cries had been met with cold indifference. The man had executed them both with mechanical precision, as if they were nothing more than obstacles in his way.

You’d stayed frozen, trembling beneath the couch, too scared to move, too scared to breathe. The last thing you remembered was the man’s boots stepping over your sister’s lifeless body as he walked out the door, leaving you alone in the suffocating silence.

End Flashback

You opened your eyes, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. The group was silent, their faces pale as they absorbed your words.

“I hid under the couch the whole time,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I watched my sister, my brother, my parents… I watched them all die. And I couldn’t do anything.”

Hyun-ju’s hand flew to her mouth, her sharp demeanor crumbling as she muttered, “Oh my god…”

Dae-ho shifted uncomfortably, his jaw tight. Even Jung-bae, usually so composed, looked shaken.

“And then,” you continued, forcing the words out, “after they left, I crawled out and sat there, staring at their bodies, until someone found me. and I was adopted after that, by someone kind. But he died too. It’s like everyone I’ve ever loved has been ripped away from me.”

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow. “So, yeah. That’s my story. That’s why I’m here. I’ve spent my whole life trying to survive, and I’m not going to stop now.”

Gi-hun reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to be alone anymore,” he said softly. “You can stay with us. We’ll look out for you.”

You looked at him, your expression unreadable. “You think you can protect me?”

“We can try,” he said firmly, his gaze unwavering.

You allowed a small, sad smile to cross your lips. “Maybe. But I’ve learned not to rely on anyone. People always let you down.”

“We’re not like those people,” Jung-bae said, his voice steady. “We’ve all lost something. Maybe together, we can figure out how to hold on to what’s left.”

You nodded slowly, letting their words sink in. They were sincere, you could see that. And as much as it pained you to admit it, you needed them. just as much as they now believed they needed you.

But deep down, you knew the truth. This wasn’t about trust or friendship. This was about survival. And if manipulating their sympathy was what it took to win, then so be it.

The atmosphere in the dormitory was tense as always, but mealtime brought a brief reprieve. The clattering of utensils and the occasional muttered conversation filled the space as the group sat together, picking at their trays. You had settled into your spot between Gi-hun and Hyun-ju, trying to appear as casual as possible.

Everything seemed fine until Hyun-ju’s sharp eyes caught the untouched carton of milk sitting beside your tray. She frowned, her gaze flicking between the carton and you. “Hey,” she said, pointing at it. “You’re not drinking your milk.”

The others glanced over, their attention now drawn to the small detail. Gi-hun raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, you’ve barely touched it. What’s the deal?”

You hesitated, fiddling with your fork as you debated how much to reveal. Finally, you sighed. “I can’t have white milk,” you said simply, your voice calm but firm.

Hyun-ju blinked, tilting her head. “What do you mean, you can’t have it? Like… you don’t like it, or what?”

“I’m allergic,” you admitted, your tone casual but guarded. You weren’t sure how much sympathy you’d get, especially in a place like this, where survival often meant brushing aside personal discomforts.

Hyun-ju’s expression softened almost immediately, and she pushed back her chair, standing up. “Hold on. I’m going to ask if they can give you water or something.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, and you reached out to grab her wrist, stopping her. “Hyun-ju, it’s fine,” you said quickly. “Don’t bother.”

“No, it’s not fine,” she shot back, frowning down at you. “You can’t just sit here not drinking anything. What else are you gonna have? You’ll pass out from dehydration, or worse.”

You shook your head, your voice calm but firm. “It’s not worth it. The people running this… they don’t care about us. You really think they’re going to swap out my milk for water just because I can’t drink it?”

Her frown deepened, and she crossed her arms. “Well, someone has to care. If they won’t do it, maybe we can figure something else out. But you’re not just going to sit here and drink nothing.”

Gi-hun leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. “She’s got a point, Y/N. You’ve gotta stay hydrated somehow. Even if it’s just water from the bathroom sink.”

Jung-bae, who had been quietly watching the exchange, chimed in. “There’s no use trying to appeal to the guards. They’ll just ignore you or worse, punish you for asking. But we should figure something out.”

“I said it’s fine,” you repeated, your voice sharper this time. You hated the idea of drawing more attention to yourself, even if their concern seemed genuine. “I’ll figure it out.”

Hyun-ju huffed, clearly frustrated. “Stubborn, aren’t you? What are you going to do, just sit here and hope your body magically makes water out of thin air? You’ll die of thirst before we even get through the next round.”

You met her gaze evenly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “I’ve survived worse.”

The group fell silent at that, your words heavy with unspoken meaning. For a moment, even Hyun-ju seemed at a loss for what to say.

Finally, Gyeong-seok broke the silence. “We’ll find a way,” he said quietly but firmly. “Even if the people running this don’t care, we can watch out for each other. That’s the only way any of us are getting through this.”

The others nodded in agreement, their determination clear. You felt a pang of something unfamiliar. was it gratitude? Guilt? You weren’t sure. All you knew was that their concern was both a risk and a tool.

Hyun-ju sat back down, still looking annoyed but no longer pressing the issue. “Fine,” she muttered. “But if I catch you skipping meals or going without water again, I will drag a guard over here, consequences be damned.”

You smiled faintly, appreciating her tenacity even if it made things more complicated. “Noted,” you said, picking at the food on your tray.

As the group returned to their meal, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of warmth in your chest. Their concern might have been a weakness in this game, but it was also a weapon you could use. And if manipulating their sympathy kept you alive, then you wouldn’t hesitate to wield it.

The dormitory had settled into its usual uneasy quiet after the tense moment about the milk. The group was still seated around you, occasionally glancing your way as if to check you were still okay. You’d just started eating again when an unsettling shift in the atmosphere made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

A shadow fell over the team. It wasn’t just anyone. it was Thanos, a towering, intimidating man whose presence seemed to command the room without him needing to say a word. His number, 230, was stitched boldly on his green tracksuit, and his size alone made it clear why no one dared cross him. Whispers erupted around the dormitory as he approached.

“Well, well,” Thanos rumbled, his voice deep and laced with amusement. “So this is where you’ve been hiding, Number 002.”

You froze for a second, your fork hovering mid-air, before slowly looking up. His grin was smug, a mix of confidence and something unsettlingly charming. You’d noticed him before, of course. It was impossible not to. But this was the first time he’d addressed you directly, and judging by the smirk on his face, he had a very specific intention.

“What do you want, Thanos?” you asked coolly, keeping your tone neutral.

Gi-hun immediately tensed beside you, his jaw tightening. Hyun-ju narrowed her eyes, shifting in her seat like she was ready to jump to your defense if needed. The rest of the group exchanged wary glances, clearly uneasy with the sudden confrontation.

Thanos ignored them entirely, his piercing gaze focused solely on you. “Oh, nothing much,” he said casually, leaning down so his massive frame loomed even closer. “I just wanted to introduce myself properly. It seems rude, doesn’t it? Two… unique individuals like us, sitting in the same room, and I haven’t even said hello.”

“Unique?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made your group shift uncomfortably. “Oh, come on. Don’t play coy. We both know you’re not like the rest of these sheep.” He gestured around the room dismissively. “They’re all here by chance. Desperate, pathetic. But you… You walk into this game with confidence. Like you belong here.”

You tilted your head, pretending to be unaffected. “And what does that make you?”

“Me?” His grin widened. “I’m just a man who knows what he wants. And right now…” He leaned even closer, his voice dropping to a low, almost intimate murmur. “…I want to get to know you better.”

Gi-hun abruptly stood up, his fists clenched at his sides. “Hey, back off,” he said sharply, stepping between you and Thanos. “She’s not interested.”

Thanos barely spared him a glance, the smirk never leaving his face. “Is that so?” he drawled. “I don’t recall asking you.”

Hyun-ju stood up next, her glare sharp enough to cut. “She doesn’t need to tell you she’s not interested. We will.”

You raised a hand, motioning for them to sit back down. “It’s fine,” you said calmly, your eyes locked on Thanos. “I can handle this.”

They hesitated, but eventually sat down, though their tension was palpable.

You stood, meeting Thanos’s gaze head-on, refusing to let him intimidate you. “You think you know me, Thanos? You think we’re the same?”

His grin faltered slightly, intrigued by your boldness. “Maybe not the same,” he admitted, his voice softening, almost playful. “But we both understand power. How to use it. How to get what we want.”

“Is that what this is?” you asked, crossing your arms. “You think you can just charm your way into whatever it is you want from me?”

He chuckled again, clearly enjoying the banter. “Charm is just one tool in my arsenal. But I have to say, you’re even more fascinating up close. Strong, fearless, beautiful… You’d make an excellent partner.”

Your group bristled at his words, but you didn’t flinch. Instead, you stepped closer, your voice dropping to a low, icy tone. “If you think flattery is going to work on me, you’re wasting your time.”

Thanos studied you for a moment, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But I have time to waste. And something tells me you’re worth it.”

Before you could respond, he straightened up and took a deliberate step back, giving you space. “I’ll see you around, 002,” he said, his tone full of promise. “Something tells me this isn’t the last time we’ll talk.”

He turned and walked away, going back to his group buzzing with whispers.

Gi-hun immediately turned to you, his expression concerned. “What the hell was that about?”

“Thanos being Thanos,” you said simply, sitting back down and picking up your fork.

Hyun-ju frowned, her voice laced with irritation. “He’s trouble, Y/N. Don’t let him get to you.”

You nodded, but your mind was already racing. Thanos’s words, his demeanor. it was all calculated. He was testing you, probing for weaknesses. But two could play that game. And if he wanted to get close, you’d make sure it was on your terms.

For now, though, you kept your thoughts to yourself, quietly finishing your meal as the group rallied protectively around you. Whatever Thanos’s game was, you’d be ready.

As the buzz of whispers continued around the dormitory, you kept your focus on your food, pretending to ignore the curious stares and hushed voices from the other players. Thanos’s approach had clearly rattled some of them, but you couldn’t let it rattle you. Not when you knew eyes were always watching.

You stabbed at a piece of bread on your tray, chewing slowly, when a prickling sensation danced along the back of your neck. It wasn’t just the usual attention from the others. This was something sharper, more intense.

Your husband.

You didn’t need to look up to confirm it. you could feel his gaze cutting through the air, piercing through the crowd as if no one else existed in the room but the two of you.

In-ho was somewhere above, watching from the shadows. You had no doubt about that. He always kept an eye on you during the games, ensuring your safety in his own quiet, brooding way. But this time, his presence felt heavier, like a thundercloud waiting to break.

Slowly, you lifted your gaze, scanning the room until your eyes landed on one of the black glass panels where you knew the VIPs and guards often observed. The lighting made it impossible to see through, but you knew he was there. You could practically feel the weight of his stare, and for a moment, your chest tightened.

You knew what that look meant, even if you couldn’t see his face. He’d seen the exchange with Thanos. He’d seen the way the towering man leaned toward you, the way he dared to flirt.

You smiled faintly to yourself, an amused breath escaping your lips. Of course he’d noticed. You could practically hear the silent growl in his mind, the territorial tension that always bubbled to the surface when someone tried to get too close to what was his.

You leaned back against the wall, letting your expression shift into something teasing, knowing full well that he was watching your every move. “What’s wrong?” Hyun-ju asked, noticing the change in your demeanor.

“Nothing,” you replied smoothly, your voice laced with mischief. “Just thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” Gi-hun asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

“About how some people have a terrible habit of overstepping boundaries,” you said lightly, letting your gaze flicker back to the glass panel. You tilted your head slightly, as though addressing someone who wasn’t physically there.

In your mind, you could picture him, his jaw clenched beneath the smooth, impassive mask he wore as the Frontman. He hated the games. He hated having to watch you play a role among the chaos. But most of all, he hated when someone thought they could challenge his claim to you.

The thought made your smirk widen, and you leaned forward again, grabbing the carton of milk you couldn’t drink and setting it aside.

“Who are you looking at?” Hyun-ju asked, her voice suspicious.

“No one,” you replied with a shrug, though the glint in your eyes suggested otherwise. “Just thinking about how interesting this game is turning out to be.”

You knew you’d pay for this later. The silent message you were sending to your husband. a mix of teasing provocation and reassurance. wouldn’t go unnoticed. But for now, you let the moment hang in the air, the knowledge that he was watching giving you a sense of comfort in a world otherwise filled with uncertainty.

From above, hidden behind his mask, In-ho’s lips curved into a faint, possessive smile.

The tense, buzzing atmosphere in the dormitory shifted suddenly when a squared guard’s voice crackled through the mask, drawing everyone’s attention “A new player has joined the game,” the monotone voice announced.

Whispers broke out immediately, players exchanging confused glances. A new player? This late in the game? It was unheard of. Even Gi-hun and the group seemed caught off guard, their murmurs adding to the noise.

You frowned, feigning curiosity, but your heart raced in your chest. You kept your expression neutral, even as you felt that familiar tingling sensation. the weight of eyes on you. But this time, it wasn’t just the other players.

It was him.

The heavy steel doors at the far end of the dormitory creaked open with a slow, ominous groan. All heads turned as a figure stepped inside, his movements deliberate, almost calculated.

He was tall, dressed in the same green tracksuit as everyone else, his number stitched boldly across the chest: 001.

Your breath hitched, but you caught yourself before anyone could notice. Years of practice helped you keep your expression blank as your husband stepped further into the room.

“Incredible,” whispered Hyun-ju beside you, her eyes widening. “I didn’t think anyone could join this late. Who is he?”

“He must be crazy,” Jung-bae muttered. “Coming in now? When things are already this dangerous?”

Gi-hun’s gaze narrowed as he studied the newcomer. “Something feels… off about him,” he said quietly.

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from reacting. If they only knew how “off” this situation really was. You could feel In-ho’s presence like a gravitational force, his every step deliberate as he made his way into the room, his face neutral but his eyes sharp, scanning the crowd.

When his gaze landed on you, your stomach flipped. It was subtle. so subtle no one else would have caught it. but there was a flicker of something in his expression. Possessiveness. A warning.

You knew the risk he was taking, stepping into the game like this. For him to leave the shadows, to take off the mask that granted him safety and anonymity, was a gamble. And yet, here he was, playing his part like the consummate professional he was.

You quickly schooled your expression, forcing your lips into a faint smirk as though the sight of him didn’t faze you. To the others, you looked amused, intrigued by the new arrival. Inside, you were anything but calm.

Gi-hun’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. “What do you think, Y/N?” he asked, his eyes still on In-ho. “Something about this guy seems… strange, doesn’t it?”

You shrugged, keeping your voice light. “Maybe. Or maybe he’s just desperate, like the rest of us.”

Your words drew In-ho’s attention again, his sharp eyes locking on yours. For a moment, the room seemed to freeze.

“Desperate, huh?” he said, his deep voice smooth but edged with something that sent shivers down your spine. “I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

The group fell silent, exchanging uneasy glances. His presence was unsettling, and his confidence didn’t help. In a room full of people clinging to survival, he stood apart calm, collected, almost untouchable.

Hyun-ju leaned closer to you, her voice low. “I don’t like this guy. There’s something weird about him.”

You smiled faintly, your gaze still on In-ho. “You’re not the only one.”

In-ho finally stopped near the center of the room, folding his arms as he surveyed the other players. “So,” he said, his voice carrying across the dormitory, “which one of you wants to fill me in? What’s the dynamic here?”

The players murmured among themselves, unsure of how to respond.

Gi-hun finally spoke up, his tone cautious. “There’s no ‘dynamic.’ Just survive, follow the rules, and don’t trust anyone.”

“Good advice,” In-ho replied, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. His gaze flicked back to you, lingering just long enough to make your heart race.

You forced yourself to look away, pretending to focus on your tray as though his presence didn’t affect you. Inside, your mind raced. What was his plan? Why had he stepped into the game like this?

As the murmurs continued, you felt his eyes on you again, burning into you like a silent challenge. You straightened your posture, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. If he wanted to play this game, you’d make sure you played it better.

The room eventually settled, players returning to their meals, but the tension lingered. In-ho didn’t sit with anyone, instead choosing a spot along the wall where he could observe the room like a predator watching its prey.

You knew this wasn’t the end of it. Whatever his reason for entering the game, it was only the beginning. And you’d have to play your part perfectly if you wanted to keep your secret safe.

The tension in the room had become unbearable, and you could feel your husband’s gaze following your every move, even as you did your best to remain calm and composed. Your tray of food sat untouched now, and you could sense Gi-hun and his group watching you closely, probably questioning why you seemed so distracted.

You couldn’t let them suspect anything.

Rising to your feet, you casually walked over to one of the pink guards stationed near the exit. Keeping your voice low, you said, “I need to use the bathroom.”

The guard didn’t respond immediately, simply nodding once before signaling for you to follow. You moved quickly but without drawing too much attention to yourself, relieved to step out of the suffocating dormitory.

The moment the heavy door closed behind you, muffling the noise from inside, you allowed yourself a small exhale. You weren’t just escaping the room. you were escaping him. Or so you thought.

As you approached the bathroom, you heard footsteps behind you. Turning your head slightly, you spotted another guard escorting the newest player. your husband, In-ho.

Your heart skipped a beat. You knew this wasn’t a coincidence. His movements were deliberate, and the look in his eyes as he glanced briefly your way made it clear: he was following you.

You entered the small, dimly lit bathroom, hoping to gather your thoughts. But before you could even take a proper breath, the door opened again. You turned sharply, only to see In-ho stepping inside, his tall frame filling the narrow space as he closed the door behind him with a soft click.

“In-ho,” you hissed, your voice barely above a whisper. “What the hell are you doing?”

But before you could say anything more, he crossed the distance between you in two quick strides and pulled you into a deep, heated kiss. His hands cupped your face with an urgency that made your knees weaken, and for a moment, all the tension, all the questions, melted away.

You kissed him back instinctively, your hands clutching the front of his tracksuit as if to ground yourself. The world outside the bathroom the players, the guards, the games ceased to exist.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and uneven. “Jagiya,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with something between frustration and longing, “what do you think I’m doing here?”

You blinked, trying to steady your breathing. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. You’re risking everything, In-ho.”

His lips curled into a faint smirk, though there was no humor in his expression. “I couldn’t just sit back and watch him flirt with you. That bastard Thanos thinking he could get close to my wife?”

“In-ho,” you said, your voice firm but soft, “you didn’t have to—”

“And then,” he interrupted, his eyes narrowing as he pulled back slightly to look at you fully, “I couldn’t help but notice something else. Something important.”

“What?” you asked, frowning.

His hand reached down, gently grabbing yours, lifting it between you. He tilted it to reveal your bare left ring finger. “You’re not wearing your wedding ring.”

Your breath caught, and you stared at him, your mind racing for an explanation. “I… I had to take it off, In-ho,” you said quickly. “You know I couldn’t risk anyone seeing it. They’d ask questions.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. Then, with a sigh, he released your hand and leaned back against the sink, running a hand through his hair. “I know,” he muttered. “But seeing your hand like that… it made me feel like you weren’t mine anymore. Like I’d lost you.”

You stepped closer, reaching out to touch his chest. “You haven’t lost me, In-ho. You never could. This is all part of the plan, remember? We agreed on this.”

“I know,” he said again, his voice softer now, his hand reaching up to cover yours. “But it doesn’t make it any easier. Watching you out there, pretending you’re just another player, knowing I can’t protect you the way I want to…”

“You are protecting me,” you told him firmly. “Just by being here.”

He looked at you, his expression softening as he lifted a hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Jagiya,” he murmured, his voice filled with emotion, “I don’t care what it takes. I’ll do whatever I have to, as long as it means keeping you safe.”

You smiled faintly, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his tone. “Then trust me,” you whispered. “Trust that I can handle this. We’ll get through it together, just like we always do.”

He nodded slowly, his hand cupping your cheek again. “I do trust you,” he said. “More than anyone. But I need you to promise me something.”

“What?”

“Promise me you won’t let him or anyone else get too close,” he said, his tone serious. “You’re mine, jagiya. Don’t let them forget that.”

You smiled again, leaning into his touch. “I promise.”

For a moment, the two of you stood there, the chaos of the games forgotten as you shared this quiet, stolen moment together. Then, reluctantly, In-ho straightened and stepped back

“We should get back before anyone notices,” he said, his voice returning to its usual calm authority.

You nodded, adjusting your tracksuit and taking a deep breath. As the two of you stepped out of the bathroom, careful not to leave together, you couldn’t help but glance at him one last time before heading back to the dormitory.

In-ho might be risking everything by being here, but so were you. And as much as you hated the danger, you couldn’t deny that it made your bond even stronger.

The air in the dormitory was thick with tension as you settled back into your spot with the group, pretending to eat while your mind raced. You could feel Gi-hun and them group watching you closely, their curiosity about the mysterious new player. your husband, who now bore the number 001 still lingering.

Across the room, In-ho had taken a spot by one of the walls, leaning casually against it with his arms folded, his sharp eyes observing everything and everyone. To the rest of the players, he might have appeared as just another desperate soul, but you knew better. Every movement, every glance, was deliberate. He was watching, analyzing, and waiting.

But then the tension shifted, the room growing quieter as a heavy, looming figure began to move.

Thanos.

You kept your head down, though your muscles tensed as you noticed him striding purposefully across the room. His hulking presence was impossible to ignore, and it seemed like everyone else in the dormitory was holding their breath, waiting to see what he would do next.

You dared a quick glance and saw him heading straight for your husband.

Your stomach dropped.

In-ho remained still, his posture relaxed and almost dismissive, as though he hadn’t even noticed the giant of a man approaching him. But you knew better. He’d noticed. He noticed everything.

When Thanos finally stopped in front of him, towering over the leaner man, the silence in the room was deafening.

“Hey,” Thanos said, his voice deep and grating, drawing the attention of nearly everyone. “Player 001. Old man.”

In-ho didn’t respond immediately, his dark eyes slowly lifting to meet Thanos’s. There was no fear in his expression only a calm, unnerving indifference that you recognized all too well.

Thanos smirked, clearly taking your husband’s silence as some form of weakness. “I saw you looking over at 002 earlier,” he said, his voice loud enough for the surrounding players to hear. “Let me give you a little piece of advice, old man. Stay away from her.”

The air grew heavier, the other players murmuring softly amongst themselves as they tried to make sense of the brewing confrontation.

Thanos leaned down slightly, his smirk widening as he added, “She’s my flower. Got it?”

You froze, gripping your tray tightly as the words hit your ears. Your first instinct was to intervene, but you knew you couldn’t. Not without risking everything. You had to trust that In-ho could handle this on his own.

In-ho didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, as if studying Thanos like he were a mildly interesting puzzle. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, steady, and cold.

“Your flower?” he repeated, his tone laced with quiet amusement.

Thanos straightened, crossing his massive arms over his chest. “Yeah. My flower. She’s mine. So whatever you think you’re doing, whatever you think you saw, forget about it.”

In-ho’s lips curved into a faint, dangerous smile, one that only you would recognize as a warning. “I see,” he said softly, his voice carrying just enough weight to silence the murmurs around him. “You think she’s yours.”

Thanos’s smirk faltered slightly, but he held his ground. “That’s right. So stay in your lane, old man.”

For a moment, In-ho said nothing, simply letting the words hang in the air. Then he took a small step closer, his calm, collected demeanor never wavering.

“You should choose your words carefully,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but somehow more menacing than if he’d shouted. “Because the next time you call her ‘yours,’ I might take it as a challenge. And I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Thanos seemed momentarily thrown off, his confidence wavering as he stared down at In-ho, who hadn’t so much as batted an eye.

You held your breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you watched the silent standoff.

Finally, Thanos let out a bark of laughter, though it sounded forced. “Whatever, old man,” he said, stepping back. “Just remember what I said.”

In-ho didn’t respond, his gaze never leaving Thanos until the larger man turned and walked away. Only then did he relax slightly, leaning back against the wall as if nothing had happened.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief, though your hands were still trembling slightly. This was far from over. you could feel it.

As the tension in the room began to dissipate, you caught In-ho’s gaze from across the dormitory. His expression was unreadable, but the subtle flicker in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

He wasn’t just here to watch the game. He was here to protect you, no matter what it took.

The dormitory was still abuzz with murmurs and speculative glances after the tense encounter between Thanos and your husband, though most of the players were doing their best to stay out of it. You sat quietly with Gi-hun and his group, your mind racing as you kept one eye on In-ho who was leaned nonchalantly against the wall, completely unbothered by the attention his presence continued to attract.

Gi-hun, ever the observer, had been watching him carefully. He leaned closer to you, his voice low but curious. “That Player 001. There’s something different about him, don’t you think?”

You shrugged, feigning indifference as you stabbed at your tray of food. “He seems quiet. Maybe he’s just trying to survive like the rest of us.”

Gi-hun didn’t look convinced, but he turned his attention back to In-ho. After a moment, he stood and walked over to him, his usual cautious but friendly demeanor firmly in place.

In-ho glanced at him, his expression unreadable as Gi-hun stopped a few feet away.

“Hey, Player 001,” Gi-hun said, his tone casual. “You seem like you’ve got your wits about you. What do you say to joining our group? It’s safer to stick together, and we could use someone with your… composure.”

In-ho didn’t respond immediately, his sharp gaze flickering briefly to you. You caught his eye for the briefest moment, giving him a subtle nod a silent signal to accept the offer.

After a beat, In-ho smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s generous of you,” he said, his voice calm and measured. “I suppose it would be better than going at it alone.”

Gi-hun smiled, clearly pleased. “Great. We’re stronger together.”

The rest of the group watched the interaction with mixed expressions. Dae-ho, in particular, looked skeptical as he leaned back, crossing his arms. “What’s your name?” he asked bluntly, his tone carrying a slight edge.

For a moment, In-ho hesitated, as though considering how much to share. Then, with practiced ease, he answered, “Young-il. That’s what you can call me.”

Dae-ho squinted, clearly still suspicious, but Gi-hun clapped him on the shoulder, cutting off any further questions. “Come on, Dae-ho. Don’t scare him off. We’re all just trying to survive here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dae-ho muttered, his gaze lingering on In-ho for another moment before he looked away.

Hyun-ju, on the other hand, smiled warmly, clearly trying to ease the tension. “Welcome to the group, Young-il. I’m Hyun-ju, and that’s Gi-hun, Dae-ho, Jung-bae, and, of course, Y/N.”

“Thanks,” In-ho replied simply, his gaze sliding back to you for a fraction of a second. The look was fleeting, but you caught it. the unspoken understanding passing between you.

You forced a small smile, doing your best to appear unaffected. “Welcome,” you said, your voice light.

In-ho gave you a small nod before turning his attention back to Gi-hun. “So, what’s the plan?”

Gi-hun grinned, looking relieved to have a new ally. “For now, we stick together and keep an eye out for the next game. It’s coming soon, and who knows what they’ll throw at us.”

In-ho nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Sounds reasonable.”

As the group began to settle back into their spots, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of satisfaction. This was exactly what you needed a way to get close to Gi-hun and his team, to learn their strengths and weaknesses, and, when the time came, to bring them down from within.

But you also knew this wouldn’t be easy. Gi-hun was sharp, and his instincts were good. It would take every ounce of your cunning and In-ho’s to pull this off.

From across the room, In-ho caught your eye again, his lips twitching into the faintest smirk. It was a reminder, a promise: no matter how dangerous this game became, you were in it together. And together, you’d make sure Gi-hun and his group never saw what was coming.

The air was thick with tension as the group finally settled, their murmured conversations dying down into cautious silence. Everyone seemed to be on edge, bracing for whatever the next game might bring. You sat quietly, playing with the edge of your sleeve, your mind racing as you replayed the last few moments.

In-ho or “Young-il” now had integrated himself into the group smoothly, his calm demeanor drawing only minimal suspicion. But you knew better than to relax. This was only the beginning, and the two of you had to stay sharp if you wanted to dismantle this group from within.

The sound of someone approaching pulled you from your thoughts. Looking up, you saw In-ho walking toward you, his expression carefully neutral. To the others, he might have looked like a weary player seeking conversation, but you knew this was deliberate.

Your stomach tightened as he stopped beside you, his dark eyes locking with yours for the briefest moment before he sat down.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asked, his tone light enough to seem casual but with just the slightest edge that only you would catch.

Gi-hun and the others glanced over but didn’t say anything, apparently content to let him join. You nodded, keeping your expression as neutral as possible. “Sure,” you said simply.

In-ho settled beside you, leaning back slightly as though he were relaxing, but you knew better. Every movement he made was calculated. He turned his head slightly toward you, his voice so low that no one else could hear.

“What about the VIPs?” you whispered under your breath, your lips barely moving.

His jaw tightened slightly, his eyes flickering around the room as though ensuring no one was paying too much attention. Then, just as quietly, he murmured, “Handled for now. They won’t interfere.”

You frowned, your fingers twitching slightly as you resisted the urge to press him further. “And by ‘handled,’ you mean?”

“They think I’m monitoring the players,” he replied, his tone almost dismissive. “As far as they’re concerned, this is all part of the plan. Let them think that.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding. “You’re taking a huge risk being here, In—Young-il,” you corrected quickly, catching yourself before saying his real name. “If they find out—”

“They won’t,” he interrupted, his voice firm but still soft enough that only you could hear. “And neither will anyone else, as long as we stick to the plan.”

You hesitated, glancing briefly at Gi-hun and the others. They seemed to be caught up in their own quiet discussions, paying little attention to you and In-ho. Still, you couldn’t shake the unease settling in your chest.

“What if they suspect us?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

In-ho’s lips curled into the faintest smirk, his confidence almost maddening. “Then we give them something else to focus on,” he said. “Trust me, jagiya. I’ve got it under control.”

You wanted to argue, to push back against his calm assurance, but you knew better. In-ho was always ten steps ahead, always thinking two moves further than anyone else. If he said it was under control, then you had to believe him.

Still, you couldn’t ignore the weight of the situation. The VIPs were dangerous, and their presence was a constant threat not just to the players, but to you and In-ho as well. If they caught wind of what you were planning…

In-ho’s voice cut through your spiraling thoughts. “Focus on the group,” he said quietly, his gaze fixed ahead as though he weren’t speaking to you at all. “The faster we take them down, the faster we can end this.”

You nodded slowly, forcing yourself to push the doubts aside. He was right. There was no room for hesitation, not now.

“Fine,” you murmured. “But if anything changes—”

“I’ll handle it,” he said firmly, his eyes meeting yours briefly, a flicker of something softer passing between you. “Just stick to your role, jagiya. We’ll make it out of this.”

You gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, your fingers clenching into fists as you steeled yourself. The game was far from over, but with In-ho by your side even in the shadows you felt a little more prepared for what was to come.

The group gathered tightly in a circle in the dimly lit dormitory, their faces illuminated only by the faint glow of the ceiling lights. The air was tense, thick with anticipation as Gi-hun leaned forward, his voice low but determined. This wasn’t just idle talk anymore this was a plan.

“Alright,” Gi-hun began, his eyes scanning the group to ensure everyone was paying attention. “I’ve been thinking. If we’re going to survive this, we need to take control. We can’t just keep waiting for the next game and hoping for the best. We have to act.”

Hyun-ju frowned, her arms crossed. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

Gi-hun took a deep breath, his expression resolute. “I’m suggesting we create a distraction. Something big. A fight that gets so out of hand it throws the guards off balance. Once the chaos starts, one of us can tackle a guard, take their weapon, and start fighting back.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances.

Jung-bae, ever the skeptic, raised an eyebrow. “And you think that’ll work? They’re armed, Gi-hun. And there are a lot more of them than us.”

Gi-hun nodded, acknowledging the concern. “I know it’s risky, but we don’t have a choice. If we don’t fight back, we’re all going to die in these games anyway. This is our only shot.”

“What happens after we take a gun?” Dae-ho asked, his tone cautious. “Because that’s not exactly the end of the problem.”

Gi-hun leaned forward, his voice dropping even lower. “Once we have the guns, we keep the fight going. We’ll make sure to keep one guard alive just one so we can force them to give us access to the upper levels. That’s where we’ll find the control rooms.”

“And then?” Hyun-ju prompted.

“And then,” Gi-hun said, his eyes blazing with determination, “we take down the rest of the guards and confront the leader of the mask. Him and his wife.”

The mention of the leader’s wife made you stiffen, though you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jung-bae interrupted, holding up a hand. “Back up. How do you know he’s even married? For all we know, that’s just some rumor they cooked up to mess with us.”

Dae-ho nodded in agreement, his brow furrowed. “Yeah, and even if it’s true, what makes you so sure she’s involved in all of this? What if she has no idea what’s really going on?”

Hyun-ju chimed in, her voice cautious but thoughtful. “Or worse what if she’s being forced to stay here? Held against her will? We don’t know anything about her. We can’t just assume she’s an enemy.”

Gi-hun sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I don’t know all the details, okay? But I’ve heard enough from the whispers around here to believe it’s true. The leader and his wife are the ones calling the shots. They’re the ones keeping us trapped in this nightmare.”

“And what if you’re wrong?” Hyun-ju pressed.

Gi-hun hesitated, his expression faltering for a moment before he steeled himself. “If I’m wrong, then we’ll deal with it when we get there. But right now, we don’t have time to second-guess everything. If we wait too long, we’ll miss our chance.”

You stayed quiet, listening intently as the group debated the plan. Inside, your mind was racing. Gi-hun was smarter than you’d initially given him credit for, but he still didn’t know the full picture.

Dae-ho crossed his arms, clearly skeptical. “Even if this works and that’s a big if we’re going to need more information. We don’t even know how many guards there are, let alone where the control rooms are. We’re going in blind.”

Gi-hun’s jaw tightened, frustration flickering in his eyes. “That’s why we have to be smart about this. Once we get a guard, we’ll make them tell us everything. It’s not perfect, but it’s all we’ve got.”

Jung-bae glanced at you, his expression curious. “What do you think, Y/N? You’ve been quiet.”

All eyes turned to you, and for a moment, you felt the weight of their gazes pressing down on you. You hesitated, carefully considering your response. This was a delicate situation. you couldn’t afford to reveal too much, but you also couldn’t appear suspicious.

“I think…” you began slowly, your voice measured, “that Gi-hun has a point. We can’t just sit around and wait for the next game to kill us. But at the same time, we need to be careful. This plan has a lot of moving parts, and if even one thing goes wrong…”

You let your voice trail off, the implication clear.

Hyun-ju nodded, her expression softening. “She’s right. We need to think this through.”

Gi-hun sighed again, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I know it’s not perfect. But we’re running out of time. If anyone has a better idea, I’m all ears.”

Silence fell over the group as everyone exchanged uncertain glances.

You glanced at In-ho out of the corner of your eye, his expression unreadable as he sat quietly, observing the conversation without contributing. You knew he was processing everything, analyzing the plan and its potential flaws.

Finally, Gi-hun spoke again, his voice firm. “Alright. Let’s sleep on it. We’ll go over the details tomorrow and finalize the plan then. Agreed?”

The group nodded reluctantly, though the tension in the air remained palpable. As everyone began to disperse, you felt a chill run down your spine. This was it. the moment when the game within the game truly began.

As the tense conversation dwindled and Gi-hun’s group began to settle into an uneasy silence, the sharp crackle of the loudspeaker echoed through the dormitory. Everyone froze, their heads turning instinctively toward the ceiling as the woman’s calm, measured voice filled the room.

“Attention, players,” she announced, her tone devoid of emotion, yet commanding enough to silence even the faintest whispers. “The lights will be turned off in five minutes. All players are instructed to return to their designated sleeping areas immediately. Any player found outside of their area after the lights are out will be eliminated.”

Her words hung heavily in the air, the last phrase chilling enough to send a ripple of unease through the room.

A few murmurs broke out among the players, many of whom were already moving toward their bunks, their footsteps hurried but quiet. Everyone understood what “eliminated” meant, and no one wanted to die 

You glanced at Gi-hun, who was already whispering something to Dae-ho, likely reinforcing parts of the plan they’d just discussed. His eyes flickered briefly toward you, as if to gauge your reaction, before he nodded to himself and began making his way to his assigned bed.

In-ho still posing as “Young-il” stood quietly, his calm demeanor betraying nothing of the storm that brewed within. His dark eyes met yours briefly, and you caught the faintest flicker of something in his gaze: a silent reminder to stay vigilant.

“Looks like we’re out of time for tonight,” Hyun-ju said softly, breaking the silence between the group. She glanced toward you, her brow furrowed with concern. “You okay, Y/N? You’ve been kind of quiet since the meeting.”

You offered a small, reassuring smile. “I’m fine. Just thinking about everything. There’s… a lot to take in.”

Hyun-ju nodded sympathetically, her own unease visible on her face. “Yeah, I get that. Try to get some rest, okay? We’ll figure this out tomorrow.”

You nodded, though rest felt like an impossible luxury in a place like this.

As you turned to head toward your bunk, you felt a hand graze your arm. You glanced back to see In-ho standing just behind you, his expression as impassive as ever, though his touch lingered for a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

“Go to bed,” he murmured quietly, his voice so low only you could hear. “And don’t draw attention to yourself tonight.”

You nodded slightly, acknowledging his warning, before continuing on your way.

The dormitory slowly descended into relative quiet as players shuffled into their beds, the air heavy with anticipation and dread. The flickering fluorescent lights overhead hummed ominously, casting long, eerie shadows on the walls.

As you settled into your bunk, you couldn’t help but scan the room one last time. The sight was grim: rows upon rows of bunks filled with weary, frightened players, each one silently grappling with their own desperation and fear.

Across the room, you spotted In-ho climbing into a lower bunk, his movements unhurried and composed. To anyone else, he looked like just another player trying to survive the night. But you knew better.

The loudspeaker crackled again, jolting you from your thoughts.

“Lights out in one minute,” the woman announced, her monotone voice cutting through the tense silence. “Prepare yourselves for rest.”

A heavy hush fell over the room, broken only by the faint rustling of blankets and the occasional whispered exchange between bunkmates.

You laid back, staring up at the metal frame above you. The seconds seemed to drag on endlessly, your thoughts racing as you replayed the day’s events. The tension between team, the lingering threat of the group , the weight of your mission with In-ho it was all too much.

Finally, the lights flickered once, twice, and then cut out completely, plunging the room into darkness. The hum of the fluorescent bulbs was replaced by an oppressive silence, broken only by the distant sound of footsteps as the guards began their patrols.

You closed your eyes, forcing yourself to breathe steadily. The night was far from over, and you knew better than to let your guard down. In this place, even the smallest misstep could be fatal.

Somewhere across the room, you felt In-ho’s presence like a shadow in the dark a steady, silent reminder that, for better or worse, the two of you were in this together.

The soft strains of a melancholic melody filled the dormitory, its haunting tune weaving through the heavy silence of the room. You lay on your back, staring up into the shadows of the bunk above you, the dim emergency lights barely illuminating the rows of beds. The music was a strange choice, almost mocking, as if to remind everyone that their lives were nothing more than a twisted game orchestrated for someone else’s entertainment.

Your mind raced as you tried to piece together the scattered fragments of your plan. You couldn’t afford to make a mistake, not now. the group was determined, but their desperation made them reckless, and that was something you and In-ho could exploit.

They think they’re being clever, you thought bitterly. But they have no idea who they’re dealing with.

As you turned over to adjust your position, you felt the faintest shift in the mattress beneath you. Your muscles tensed instinctively, your hand moving toward the edge of your blanket, ready to act if necessary.

Before you could make a move, a familiar warmth pressed against your side, and a low, teasing whisper reached your ear. “Relax, jagiya,” In-ho murmured, his tone calm and steady. “It’s just me.”

You exhaled softly, letting the tension in your body dissipate as he settled beside you in the impossibly narrow space. Even in the near-total darkness, you could feel his presence steady, grounding, and entirely at odds with the chaotic world around you.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the faint hum of the music. “You know how risky this is.”

“Risky for anyone else, maybe,” he replied, his breath warm against your ear. “But not for me. Besides, I couldn’t let another time go by without checking on my jagiya.”

You rolled your eyes, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at your lips. “Checking on me or making sure I’m not stealing the spotlight?”

“Both,” he said with a quiet chuckle, his fingers brushing against yours. “But mostly to make sure you’re not planning anything without me.”

You huffed softly, shifting so you could face him. “Fine. Since you’re here, we might as well use this time wisely.”

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “What do you have in mind?”

You glanced around, ensuring no one was awake or paying attention. Most of the players were either asleep or too consumed by their own fears to notice much of anything.

“We need to twist Gi-hun’s plan against him,” you began, your voice low and deliberate. “They think they’re being smart by targeting the guards and using one to get access to the control rooms, but they don’t understand how this place really works.”

In-ho nodded, his tone thoughtful. “They’re underestimating the chain of command. Even if they manage to overpower a guard, they’ll be stuck before they get anywhere near the upper levels.”

“Exactly,” you agreed. “But we need to let them think they’re making progress. We’ll give them just enough freedom to act, and when the time is right—”

“We’ll shut them down,” In-ho finished, his voice laced with quiet satisfaction.

You smirked, leaning in slightly. “I knew you’d understand. Now, here’s the key part…”

The two of you huddled closer, your whispers barely audible even to each other as you detailed the next steps. You mapped out ways to subtly manipulate the group’s actions, feeding them misinformation and false hope to ensure they’d walk right into the trap you and In-ho were carefully setting.

“They’ll never see it coming,” In-ho said, his voice carrying a dangerous edge that sent a shiver down your spine.

“That’s the idea,” you murmured, allowing yourself a small smile.

For a moment, silence fell between you, the music still playing faintly in the background. You could feel In-ho watching you, his gaze intense even in the dark.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice filled with amusement.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Maybe a little. But mostly, I’m just tired of people underestimating us.”

He chuckled softly, his hand brushing against your cheek. “That’s my jagiya. Always thinking five steps ahead.”

“Someone has to,” you replied, your voice tinged with humor.

In-ho leaned in, his lips brushing against your lips. “Be careful, though. If you’re too clever, you might make me jealous.”

“Jealous?” you teased, arching an eyebrow. “Of what?”

“Of how dangerously brilliant you are,” he said, his tone playful but sincere.

You rolled your eyes, though a warmth spread through you at his words. “Just focus on your part of the plan, Young-il,” you said with a smirk.

He grinned, his hand squeezing yours briefly before he shifted away. “Don’t worry, jagiya. I’ve got it covered.”

As he slipped out of your bunk as silently as he had entered, you watched him disappear into the shadows, your mind already racing with the possibilities ahead. The game was about to change, and you were ready to make your next move.

The next morning, the dormitory was alive with the sounds of shuffling feet, murmured conversations, and the occasional clatter of metal trays as breakfast was distributed. The guards, ever watchful, stood silently at the edges of the room, their presence a constant reminder of the stakes.

You grabbed your tray and made your way over to the group, careful to maintain your role as just another player. Gi-hun was already seated, speaking in hushed tones with Dae-ho and Hyun-ju. Across from him, Gyeong-seok sat with his arms crossed, a skeptical look on his face. Young-il was perched quietly at the end of the table, his posture relaxed but his sharp gaze taking in every detail of the room.

Sliding into the seat beside him, you nudged him lightly with your elbow before addressing the group. “What’s the plan for today?”

Gi-hun leaned forward, lowering his voice. “We’re going to stage a fight,” he said, his tone firm. “If we can cause enough chaos, we’ll distract the guards and create an opening for someone to grab a weapon or—”

You held up a hand, cutting him off. “Hold on. I was thinking of something more… strategic.”

The group turned to you, their faces a mix of curiosity and skepticism. Young-il didn’t say a word, but you could feel his eyes on you, watching your every move.

“What are you thinking?” Hyun-ju asked cautiously.

You set your spoon down and leaned in, lowering your voice. “I can take one of the guards with me to the bathroom. They’ll follow, thinking I’m just some helpless player.”

Hyun-ju frowned. “Okay… and then what?”

You smirked faintly, tapping your fingers against the edge of your tray. “Then, I take him out.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances.

Dae-ho raised an eyebrow. “You? Take out a guard?”

“I know how to fight,” you said firmly, your confidence unwavering. “I’ve taken down men twice my size before. Trust me, it’s not as hard as it looks if you know where to hit.”

Gyeong-seok leaned back in his chair, arms still crossed. “That’s a risky move. What if you screw up?”

“I won’t,” you said sharply. “But that’s not all. I’ve been thinking about the utensils they give us the spoons, the forks.”

Hyun-ju frowned. “What about them?”

You picked up your spoon and held it up, turning it in your hand. “They’re metal, sturdy enough to be used as weapons if you sharpen the edges. We just need to save a few and work on them when the guards aren’t watching.”

There was a brief silence as the group processed your idea.

“Wait,” Dae-ho said, furrowing his brow. “You’re saying we should stockpile the utensils and turn them into weapons?”

You nodded. “Exactly. They won’t suspect a thing. By the time they realize what we’re doing, it’ll be too late.”

The group exchanged glances, their skepticism slowly giving way to understanding.

Gi-hun rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “It’s… bold. But it could work.”

“It will work,” you insisted. “We just need to be smart about it.”

Young-il, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke, his voice calm and measured. “She’s right. The guards are predictable. They don’t pay close attention to the small things like what we do with the utensils. If we’re careful, we can pull this off.”

You glanced at him, hiding a smirk. His support was exactly what you needed to push the group toward agreement.

Hyun-ju nodded slowly. “Okay. I’m in.”

Dae-ho sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This is crazy, but… fine. Let’s do it.”

Gi-hun looked at you, his expression serious. “We’ll follow your lead on this. But if anything goes wrong…”

“It won’t,” you said firmly, cutting him off.

The group murmured their agreement, and you leaned back in your chair, satisfied.

As the conversation shifted to other details of the plan, you felt Young-il lean slightly closer to you, his voice barely audible as he whispered, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, jagiya?”

You didn’t look at him, keeping your gaze on the group. “You think I’d come this far if I wasn’t?”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and familiar. “Just don’t let them outsmart you. You know I’ll be here to clean up if they do.”

You finally glanced at him, your lips curving into a faint smile. “I don’t plan on giving you the chance.”

Young-il leaned back, his expression unreadable, though there was a glint of something dangerous in his eyes. Whatever happened next, you both knew the real game was just beginning.

As the group continued discussing the details of their makeshift rebellion, you leaned slightly closer to Young-il, your voice a mere whisper, audible only to him. “You better tell the guards about this,” you murmured, your tone laced with urgency. “If they’re not prepared, Gi-hun’s plan could spiral out of control.”

Young-il kept his expression neutral, his body language relaxed as though you were discussing something as mundane as the weather. His eyes, however, flicked to yours with a sharpness that only you could recognize. “You think I haven’t already thought about that, jagiya?” he whispered back, his voice smooth but edged with a quiet authority.

“I’m serious,” you pressed, your tone firm but still quiet enough to avoid drawing attention. “If the guards don’t know what’s coming, they’ll think we’re actually working with the players. That’s a risk we can’t afford.”

Young-il’s lips twitched in what might have been amusement or irritation it was always hard to tell with him. “You underestimate me,” he murmured, his voice barely above a breath. “We’ve handled worse than this.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly, your hand tightening around the edge of your tray as you leaned in closer. “And what happens if one of those guards messes up?” you hissed. “What if they get themselves trapped? What if they panic and reveal their face?”

He turned his head just enough to look at you fully, his gaze steady and unyielding. “Then we deal with it,” he said calmly. “Like we always do.”

“Don’t be so dismissive,” you snapped quietly. “One mistake could expose everything us, the guards, the entire operation. If even one player gets proof of what’s really going on, this whole game falls apart.”

Young-il tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “You’re worried,” he said softly. “That’s cute.”

You shot him a glare, though your heart skipped a beat at the teasing lilt in his voice. “I’m not worried. I’m realistic,” you countered. “You might enjoy taking risks, but I’m not about to let your recklessness ruin everything we’ve worked for.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near growl. “Careful, jagiya. You’re starting to sound like you don’t trust me.”

You held his gaze, refusing to back down. “I trust you,” you said evenly. “But I don’t trust the guards. And I don’t trust Gi-hun and his little rebellion not to find a way to exploit them.”

Young-il studied you for a long moment before letting out a quiet sigh. “Fine,” he said at last. “I’ll talk to the guards. Make sure they’re prepared for whatever nonsense these players try to pull.”

“Good,” you said, your tone clipped. “And make sure they stay in line. If one of them so much as flinches in the wrong direction—”

“They won’t,” he interrupted, his voice cutting through your words like a knife. “I’ll handle it.”

You nodded slightly, your tension easing just a fraction. “See that you do,” you murmured, leaning back in your seat as though nothing had happened.

Young-il’s smirk returned, softer this time, as he leaned closer to you, his voice so low it was almost inaudible. “You really do worry too much, jagiya,” he said, his breath warm against your ear. “But I’ll admit, it’s one of the things I love about you.”

You rolled your eyes, though a faint smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “Just don’t mess this up,” you said quietly. “We’re playing a dangerous game here.”

“Danger’s half the fun,” he replied, his tone light but his eyes dark with meaning.

As he settled back into his seat, you let out a slow breath, your mind already racing ahead to the next move. The pieces were in place, but the board was far from stable. One wrong step, and everything could come crashing down.

The tension in the dormitory was thick, but you masked it well, your posture relaxed as you engaged in idle conversation with the team. The group sat huddled around, discussing the plan for the day with hushed voices, but you made sure to steer their focus toward you. Your words were carefully chosen, your demeanor confident yet unassuming, as if you were fully invested in their rebellion.

“So, Hyun-ju,” you said, tilting your head with an easy smile, “you were saying something earlier about distracting the guards during the fight? What’s your strategy?”

Hyun-ju blinked, startled that you’d singled her out. She shifted nervously in her seat, fumbling for a response. “Uh, I-I guess I could… maybe pretend to faint or something?”

You nodded thoughtfully, pretending to consider her idea. “That’s smart,” you said, your tone encouraging. “The guards would definitely rush over to check on you. It could buy us some time.”

Gi-hun chimed in, his brows furrowed in concentration. “Yeah, but we’d need to make it convincing. If they see through it, it could backfire.”

“True,” you agreed, leaning in slightly to draw the group’s attention further into the conversation. “But maybe we could enhance it somehow. Like, if someone else creates a commotion at the same time, it would divide their focus.”

As the group fell into a heated discussion about the logistics of their plan, you stole a quick glance at Young-il. He was sitting at the edge of the group, his body language casual, almost detached, as though he wasn’t fully invested in the conversation. But you caught the subtle flicker of his eyes, the way they darted toward one of the guards stationed near the far wall.

You knew exactly what he was planning.

Turning your attention back to the group, you leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering your voice just enough to keep their focus locked on you. “What about the utensils we talked about ?” you asked. “Did anyone manage to save theirs?”

Hyun-ju reached into her pocket and produced a spoon, holding it up triumphantly. Dae-ho and Gyeong-seok followed suit, while Gi-hun nodded in approval.

“Good,” you said, a satisfied smile on your face. “We’ll need those later. Just make sure to keep them hidden until the right moment.”

As you continued to keep the team engaged, you subtly shifted your position, angling yourself so that you could see Young-il out of the corner of your eye. He was making his move, slipping away from the group with a quiet, calculated grace that only you would notice.

The other team Team O was completely oblivious, too busy bickering amongst themselves to notice anything outside their circle. You couldn’t help but smirk inwardly at their lack of awareness.

Young-il crossed the room with practiced ease, his steps measured and deliberate. He made his way toward one of the guards, who stood rigidly by the wall, their attention seemingly fixed on the room but their body language betraying a slight lack of focus.

You felt your pulse quicken as you watched from the corner of your eye, keeping your expression neutral as Gi-hun continued to talk.

“What about the timing?” Gi-hun asked, looking around at the group. “We need to make sure everything happens simultaneously. If even one part of the plan goes off too early, we’re screwed.”

“Exactly,” you said, seizing the opportunity to steer the conversation. “We need to coordinate perfectly. Maybe we should assign specific roles to each person so there’s no confusion.”

As the group debated who should do what, you noticed Young-il had reached the guard. He leaned in slightly, pretending to adjust his shoe as he whispered something to the masked figure. The guard gave a barely perceptible nod before shifting their stance, subtly acknowledging the message.

You forced yourself to focus back on the group, masking your satisfaction with a thoughtful expression. “Let’s run through the plan one more time,” you said, keeping your tone steady. “We can’t afford any mistakes.”

The group nodded, their attention entirely consumed by the details of their rebellion. They had no idea that their carefully crafted plan was already being unraveled from the inside.

Meanwhile, Young-il slipped back into the group’s circle as if he had never left, his expression calm and unreadable. He caught your eye for the briefest of moments, and you knew without a doubt that the first piece of your counter-plan was in motion.

The atmosphere in the dormitory remained heavy with tension as the groups continued their quiet conversations and whispered plans. Unnoticed by most, one of the guards stationed near the far wall began to shift subtly, their body language signaling a change in duty. A new guard, slightly taller and with an even stiffer posture, approached silently to replace them.

You caught the movement out of the corner of your eye, your attention momentarily drawn to the exchange. It was subtle smooth enough that most players wouldn’t notice but you had spent enough time orchestrating such maneuvers to recognize it for what it was. The first guard nodded briefly at the newcomer before stepping away, their departure almost ghostlike as they disappeared down the hallway.

Your gaze flicked to Young-il, who sat a few feet away, appearing perfectly relaxed. His sharp eyes, however, followed the departing guard just as yours had. He didn’t turn his head or make any overt movements, but you knew he had noticed the switch and understood its significance.

Returning your attention to the group, you forced yourself to stay composed, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Gi-hun was deep in discussion, his voice low but firm as he laid out the next steps of his plan.

“We’ll need to test the guards’ response times,” Gi-hun said, glancing around the circle. “If we can figure out how quickly they react, we’ll know how much time we have to execute our plan.”

Hyun-ju nodded, her expression serious. “What about the rotations? Do they switch positions at specific intervals?”

“Good question,” Gi-hun replied, looking thoughtful. “We need to start paying attention to their movements. If we can predict when they change shifts, we can time our actions perfectly.”

You felt a twinge of unease at how perceptive Gi-hun was becoming. He was piecing things together faster than you had anticipated, and while that was useful for maintaining your cover, it also meant the group was becoming a real threat.

“I think they switch every couple of hours,” you said casually, injecting yourself into the conversation. “I’ve been keeping track, and it seems like they rotate pretty regularly. But we’ll need to confirm it before we make any moves.”

Gi-hun nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. “Good observation,” he said. “We’ll need to work together to keep an eye on them. If you notice anything else, let us know.”

“Of course,” you said, offering him a faint smile. “We’re all in this together, right?”

As the conversation continued, you leaned slightly toward Young-il, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Did you catch that?” you murmured, your tone barely audible.

He tilted his head slightly, pretending to stretch as he responded under his breath. “The replacement? Yeah. They’re moving fast. Looks like the message is already being delivered.”

“Good,” you whispered back. “But we need to be careful. Gi-hun’s sharper than he looks. If he starts connecting the dots—”

“He won’t,” Young-il interrupted smoothly, his voice calm. “Not with us pulling the strings. Just stick to the plan, jagiya.”

You nodded, forcing yourself to relax. Young-il was right everything was going according to plan so far. But the margin for error was razor-thin, and any slip-up could spell disaster for both of you.

The new guard stood silently at their post, their posture rigid and unyielding. To the untrained eye, they were just another faceless enforcer. But you knew better. This guard was no ordinary sentry. they were a carefully placed operative, ready to relay information back to the Front Man and ensure the rebellion was neutralized before it could truly begin.

As the group’s conversation continued to spiral into detailed strategy, you couldn’t help but feel a small surge of satisfaction. Gi-hun and his team were so focused on their plans that they hadn’t even noticed the subtle shift in the room’s dynamics.

Leaning back slightly, you cast a quick glance at Young-il. His eyes met yours briefly, and in that fleeting moment, you saw the same determination burning in his gaze. The pieces were in place, and the board was set. All that remained was for the game to unfold.

The conversation around the circle shifted, and for a moment, the group fell silent as they all turned toward Young-il. It was clear from their expressions that they were curious about the quiet man who had joined them. While he had blended into the background so far, his calm demeanor and sharp eyes hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Gi-hun leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady but inquisitive. “What do you think, Young-il?” he asked, his tone measured. “You’ve been pretty quiet so far, but we could use your perspective. Any thoughts on the plan?”

Young-il didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back slightly, exuding an air of quiet confidence as he scanned the faces around him. His hands rested loosely on his lap, and he seemed completely unfazed by the sudden attention.

“Well,” he began slowly, his voice deep and deliberate, “you’ve got a decent outline. Timing the guards’ rotations, using distractions, and arming yourselves. it’s a good start. But there’s one thing you’re all overlooking.”

The group tensed, leaning in closer to hear what he had to say. Even you, knowing full well he was playing them, felt a flicker of anticipation.

“And what’s that?” Dae-ho asked, his brow furrowed.

Young-il’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Trust,” he said simply.

“Trust?” Gi-hun echoed, his tone skeptical.

“That’s right,” Young-il replied, his gaze sharp as it swept over the group. “You’re putting together a plan that relies on split-second timing, complete cooperation, and absolute loyalty from everyone involved. But how can you be sure everyone here is on the same page?”

The question hung in the air like a challenge, and you watched as the group exchanged uneasy glances. It was clear the thought hadn’t occurred to them before, and now doubt was beginning to creep into their minds.

Hyun-ju frowned, her arms crossing over her chest. “We’ve been working together this whole time,” she said defensively. “Why wouldn’t we trust each other?”

Young-il raised an eyebrow, his expression calm but pointed. “Because trust isn’t built overnight,” he said. “And in a situation like this, where the stakes are life and death, people will do whatever it takes to survive. even if it means betraying the person next to them.”

The tension in the group grew palpable, and you could almost feel the unease settling over them like a heavy blanket.

“But if we don’t trust each other, we’ll fail for sure,” Gi-hun said, his voice steady but strained. “What’s your suggestion, then? How do we build trust when we barely know each other?”

Young-il’s smile widened, though there was something almost predatory about it. “You can start by testing each other,” he said. “Small tasks, small risks. See who follows through and who hesitates. That way, when the time comes for the real plan, you’ll know exactly who you can count on.”

The group exchanged uncertain glances, clearly considering his words.

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Dae-ho admitted grudgingly. “If someone can’t handle the small stuff, they’re not going to hold up when things get serious.”

Gi-hun nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. “Alright,” he said. “We’ll keep that in mind. But for now, let’s focus on getting the basics down. Young-il, do you think we’re missing anything else?”

Young-il glanced at you briefly, so quickly that no one else seemed to notice. Then he shrugged, his demeanor casual. “No, I think you’ve covered most of it,” he said. “Just don’t get overconfident. The guards aren’t stupid, and if even one thing goes wrong, they’ll shut this whole thing down before you can blink.”

His words carried a weight of authority that made the group sit up a little straighter, their expressions somber.

“Noted,” Gi-hun said, his tone firm. “Thanks for the input.”

As the group shifted their focus back to the finer details of their plan, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of admiration for Young-il’s performance. He had played his role perfectly, offering just enough useful advice to gain their trust while subtly planting seeds of doubt and mistrust among them.

Leaning slightly toward him under the guise of adjusting your position, you whispered, “Nicely done.”

He didn’t look at you, but the faint smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips was answer enough. “Always, jagiya,” he murmured, his voice so low that only you could hear.

The fluorescent bathroom lights hummed softly, the stark white tiles reflecting your shadowed figures. Pressed against the cool wall, you felt Young-il’s hands trailing along your arms, his touch both reassuring and electrifying. His lips lingered over yours, the warmth of his kiss making you forget, if only for a moment, the deadly games and the rebellion brewing outside these walls.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you slightly breathless, his dark eyes locked onto yours, filled with that sharp intellect and confidence you found so maddening and magnetic. He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering as his expression turned serious.

“Jagiya,” he murmured, his voice low and deliberate, “listen to me carefully. Things are about to get chaotic, and we need to be ready.”

You nodded, already sensing that he was about to share a crucial piece of his plan. Young-il never spoke without purpose, and in this twisted game, every word carried weight.

“So, here’s what we’re going to do,” he began, his tone measured and calm. “When the rebellion starts and trust me, Gi-hun will make sure it does he’s going to rally as many players as he can. He’ll frame it as their last chance to take down the system, and some of them will be desperate enough to follow him.”

“Of course,” you murmured, leaning closer. “He’ll play the hero, and they’ll eat it up.”

Young-il smirked faintly, pleased by your quick understanding. “Exactly. He’s going to arm them with weapons stolen from the guards. Guns, knives whatever they can get their hands on. That’s where the chaos begins. Some of the players will refuse to join, and some will eagerly accept. But here’s the thing: Gi-hun is smart. He’s going to split the group into smaller teams to cover more ground and increase their chances of success.”

You frowned slightly, already anticipating the danger. “And you’re planning to join one of those teams?”

He nodded. “I’ll volunteer to go with Gi-hun himself or at least the most influential group. Once I’m with them, I’ll kill some guards strategically just enough to make it look like I’m committed to their cause but not too much to draw suspicion. It’ll keep Gi-hun and the others distracted, and they won’t see what’s coming until it’s too late.”

“And me?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

A small, knowing smile played on his lips. “You’ll stay behind in the dormitory, jagiya. Act helpless, scared like you don’t know how to handle yourself in a fight. They’ll underestimate you and leave you there with the others who refuse to join the rebellion.”

You arched an eyebrow, your lips curving into a wry smile. “Helpless? Really? Have you met me?”

Young-il chuckled softly, leaning closer until his lips brushed against your ear. “I know you’re anything but helpless,” he murmured. “That’s exactly why you’ll pull it off so convincingly. We need to do this, jagiya.”

His confidence in you sent a thrill down your spine, and you nodded, letting him continue.

“Once the rebellion is crushed, I’ll send a guard for you,” he said, his tone firm and precise. “But here’s the catch: the players who stayed behind with you are going to resist. They’ll try to protect you, thinking the guards are coming to punish you for also helping plan the rebellion. It’s going to get messy, but that’s the point. I’ll send multiple guards to make it look serious, like you’re in real trouble. That way, it’s believable.”

“And the players?” you asked softly, already knowing the answer.

“They’ll be eliminated,” he said bluntly, his gaze unwavering. “By the time I get back to you, there won’t be anyone left to question what happened. And if Gi-hun or anyone else from the rebellion survives… they’ll regret ever trying to overthrow the system. We’ll make sure of that.”

You stared at him for a long moment, processing the intricacy of his plan. It was ruthless, calculated, and brilliant everything you’d come to expect from him.

“You’ve thought of everything,” you said quietly.

“I have to,” he replied, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb brushed against your skin. “This isn’t just about survival, jagiya. This is about making sure no one dares to challenge us again. They need to know what happens when you defy the system.”

You leaned into his touch, your lips curving into a faint smile. “And here I thought I was the cunning one in this marriage.”

His smirk widened as he leaned in to capture your lips in another kiss, this one slower, more deliberate. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“We’re a team,” he murmured. “Always have been, always will be.”

“Always,” you whispered back, the word carrying a weight of promise.

As the sound of footsteps approached outside, you both straightened, slipping back into your roles. To the outside world, you were just another pair of players trying to survive. But inside the bathroom, you were partners in crime, two masterminds orchestrating a plan that would change everything.

[hyog-blog]

Fangs of Fortune: The Game of Yin and Yang

I love how Zhao Yuanzhou is basically embodying the philosophy of Yin and Yang, which is much more flexible and practical than the old-fashioned Christianity-inspired good vs. evil dichotomy.

And because it is Chinese philosophy, we don't get too much of that black-and-white nonsense in the show, but instead, we get to explore 50,000 shades of black, white, and gray playing with each other beautifully. And what better way to convey the ambiguous nature of this world, which seems so bent on the Duality of literally everything, than to take the Evilest Force in the world and attach the most gentle, caring, and loving soul to it (to torment both that soul and everyone who gets to witness this torment).

I mean, the recipe is nearly perfect, it really is. And not only do we get to see this evil mixed with a hefty portion of good (like that drop of white inside the Yin-Yang symbol), but we also get to see the perfectly good and innocent characters mixed with a hefty drop of black (like Bai Jiu who got possessed by Li Lun).

Children are considered by society as the most innocent creatures (okay, Bai Jiu is a teenager, but he could still pass), that's why getting him taken over by someone so dark and broody and ill-intended like Li Lun hits even harder. Like all that innocence becomes tainted by something so bad. And at the same time, being a supposedly innocent child, we also see that Bai Jiu really isn't stainless himself (and he got to explore a bit of his darker side when he betrayed his friends).

And yet, it is also Li Lun, who is not someone abysmally bad (he's just lost, and wounded, and a bit more on the demonic spectrum when it comes to ethics and morality), who gets attracted to that light and purity to get a chance at redemption (which he does get in the end!). It's as if being in that body, chatting with those people, experiencing some friendliness before he got exposed actually mattered to the point that it changed him as well (and thus, that droplet of light in the blackness of Yin started doing its magic, slowly transforming the darkness, giving hope to someone who has seemingly lost it).

There's also Zhuo Yichen and his ability to see the good for what it is and his inability to see evil where there is none. Like, if it was someone else (even in real life probably) they would righteously hate Zhao Yuanzhou no matter what (maybe even knowing that he had no choice but to kill all those people). But this young man not only sees the good in Zhao Yuanzhou, that droplet of light that shines brighter than all that malicious energy, but he actually has enough goodness in him to forgive ZYZ.

Because Zhuo Yichen's beautiful soul, no matter how innocent and pure, has seen despair and lived through so much grief that it also changed him, making him more empathetic than most people (and that's yet another thing that Zhuo Yichen and Zhao Yuanazhou have in common - they both got transformed by the heaviness of their grief, two perfectly gentle creatures who just had to explore the depth of human and demon suffering, and that's why they meet on level ground).

And what makes their relationship especially beautiful, is that they both came to the same point, but moving from different directions of the spectrum - Zhao Yuanzhou was clinging onto his own light in the Ocean of Darkness, but that light was piercing enough for him to survive and remain himself. Zhuo Yichen was light that had lived through pain and grief of unimaginable proportions, and it changed him, but it didn't drag him down into that Ocean of Darkness.

It's a type of equilibrium, and they both, each in their own right, continue looking for ways to find balance in their lives (and then they meet each other and it changes them again). Zhuo Yichen sees that there's always light in the darkness (and Zhao Yuanzhou is a stark example of it), for Zhao Yuanzhou - Zhuo Yichen is that light shining brightly, reminding him that it actually exists, and it grants him absolution. And it also makes things especially painful for him because his darkness (that malicious force) tainted that light (but it didn't, really, it transformed ZYC into something more).

And when Li Lun gives his energy/life force to Zhuo Yichen, and then when ZYC gives all those powers, adding his own, to Zhao Yuanzhou for him to break the barrier and kill Wen Zongyu - this is the reflection of the same Yin and Yang principle, the all-pervasive energies penetrating into each other, becoming one another, ever-changing. Basically what they're saying with this is "I am you and you are me and there's no difference." And not even some magic barrier can stop those energies from becoming one.

Zhuo Yichen actually understood Zhao Yuanzhou even before he got turned into a demon himself (and once again we're shown that it's not that the demons are all bad, you can still choose what to be even if you turn into one, and if you have that droplet of light inside of you, like the Yin and Yang, there's always a chance it will overpower even the borderless Darkness, be it inside a human or a demon heart).

We also get to see how that droplet of light comes in the form of love into Zhao Yuanzhou's life (from Wen Xiao, Zhuo Yichen, and the rest of their little gang), and it slowly transforms him, a very depressed being, who's already suicidal, and in the end, he actually feels alive enough to not want to die. That transformative power of light is actually limitless.

In the show, we see people come out of the darkness of their souls and bad states and depressions to see the light of something more, but then there's also the main bad guy who turned full-on evil because his wife was killed, and we see how that droplet of darkness pushed that person to the brink of becoming a murderer and torturer of both humans and demons.

And there's also the notion of Li Lun with that one thing, one betrayal, one drop of darkness changing him and bringing him close to the brink of turning full-on evil himself (he pretty much is at some point, but he never loses the ability to feel, it's just that he can't process his own grief, pain, and all those emotions that are eating him up). And even for him, who has gone so far, there was still a chance to get back (which he does, having experienced the transformative power of Zhao Yuanzhou's love that has never disappeared). So Li Lun's life is spared and he transfers himself into that piece of root that Zhu Yan saved, for he never stopped caring about Li Lun, and the latter could finally see that in the end.

Even with Wen Xiao, we see how something 'bad' (the death of her father) leads to something 'good' - she is found by the Goddess and later becomes a Goddess herself and gets to meet Zhao Yuanzhou. It's all so relative and nuanced that we can't really say that something is actually good or bad, just like with the show's characters and their personal journeys.

And don't get me started on Ying Lei, the ultimate sunshine boy, who gets dragged into the dark world of human-demon relationships, vengeance, and doomed narrative to pave a path of his own. Sometimes a droplet of light does drown in the Ocean of Darkness, but it still makes a huge difference and transforms everyone's lives before it finally fades away (that, and other people's doomed narratives may also be contagious if you go deep into those relationships). Well, we can argue that his narrative was also doomed from the start but that's a topic for a different essay XD

I just love how the show is not only about good fighting evil, the whole fight is like a veil, a premise, a stage to tell a story about characters that are much more complex than that very familiar dichotomy. And just like in life, good things sometimes lead to bad consequences, and bad deeds can bloom into something wonderful against all odds.

[marys2ndson]

hunting fucking sucks: a fic rec list

I just love when their lives suck not because they’re vessels for archangels or whatever, but just because their job is the worst. thankless, dangerous, morally ambiguous, leaving them injured and dirty and bone-tired. i <3 whump

Due East by sowell (4,700 words)

Just hunts and angst and them, together. Love the characterization. 

“I think I like you injured. Less bitchy,” Dean says with a smile, and Sam blinks at him. / “What?” / “You think I haven’t noticed you sulking for two days straight?”

Hard to Come By by sevenfists (1,700 words)

Hunting, driving around, sleeping in shitty motels. Making difficult choices, dealing with hard realities. 

"You don't smoke," Sam says, and Dean says, "What's it look like I'm doing?" The cigarette tastes like ass. He smokes it anyway, tapping the ash out the open window. It's August. Sam turns up the air conditioning. Dean turns it back down.

Below Breath by kalliel (3,100 words)

Season 2, case fic. Love the complete lack of exposition. You’re just thrown into it on Dean’s terms, and everything is complicated and difficult and unknown. 

Dude, he says, and shoves you in the back with his shotgun. You resist the urge to turn around and smack him with it. Or kiss him, all teeth. See how much he’s paying attention then. 

Every Rhyme Without Reason by kalliel (44,800 words) 

Season 1, case fic, Sam POV. Fascinating and atmospheric and a tough read bc Sam’s life is very uphill at this point, but he’s so present, wrestling and grappling with it. Love him. <3

Maybe they killed that rawhead, released that reaper, slashed that bax'aan's throat. Maybe they'll kill this thing in Rime. But this is what's gonna get them: They have $127.34, four more nights, half a tank of gas, and some cold leftovers to their name. Out here, there's nowhere to go but down; and even then, they're going to have to limp.

With Gravy by kalliel (3,700 words)

Vague season 2. A hunt gone wrong. Slim chances of survival, complete darkness, pain, and heroism. 

The tunnel stretches on and on, and all Dean hears is their footsteps getting heavier, sloppier. One kid cries. The woman cries. The man's leg doesn't quite clear some jutting rocks, and he weeps.

The Real Thing by ameliacareful (14,200 words)

Jensen wakes up in a motel room in Dean’s place. So outsider POV. That thing about the third trial, about Tom and Shep… Kill me. 

“Are you doing that on purpose?” / “What?” / “Sounding like him?” / “A little. Does it work?” Jensen asked. / Sam did that funny little flicker of a smile/grimace that Jared only did as Sam. “Yeah, it does.” His gaze hardened. “Don’t do it again.” / Sam was suddenly very big. Armed. / “Gotcha,” Jensen said.

Catch Your Death by road_rhythm (22,300 words)

They work a ghost hunt while Sam’s sick. This fucks severely! All their petty fights and their biases and bickering really get the spotlight they deserve, as well as the fact that they just really love and care about each other. Feels exactly like a really good ep of s2. And takes up some of the interesting Sam issues as well.

It was this, every time. Sam lashed out and Dean came back with impenetrable patience and washcloths and medicine and touch and one day it would be his life. And there was no answering back to that.

my habit of breaking hearts as soon as i have them by acccording2thelore (6,600 words)

WARNING: major character death. 

A hunt gone wrong. Staggering grief and horror mixed with intimacy and connection. <3 

If he can just get to Garth, he can send up some of his people and help carry Sam to the base of the mountain. Dean won’t make it that far.

the blurriness of being alive by hathfrozen (3,500 words)

WARNING: major character death. 

Sam dies of an infection.

“They don��t get to grieve for him,” Dean tells Miracle when he decides he isn’t calling anybody to tell them. “They ain’t allowed. They don’t get it.” Dean’s had the worst things in the known universe leeching off of him, trying to turn him into evil, but this is the most rotten, meanest he’s ever felt. He doesn’t fucking care.

A Lifetime or Two by nigeltde (18,400 words)

They work a case with their mom; Sam gets banged up; they try something new. This fic feels so real and lived in. The familiarity between Sam and Dean, the way Sam feels left out, Sam’s quiet loneliness and enduring hope, Dean’s desperate affection. <3

Sam would say lucky it was just broken bones. Lucky nothing else cut too deep. Lucky his ear was intact. Dean gets lost, strung out, trying to calculate: if Sam had been concussed, would that still be good luck? If he’d lost the finger, should Dean be thankful? Where does it end, the tallying? Sam thrown through glass, dragged across pavement, tossed into a car, stitched up in this cramped doll’s house of a room, having to bluntly endure; this is what he’s supposed to be grateful for?

Settle Down My Shivered Bones by abitingsmile (4,800 words)

WARNING: disordered eating, food insecurity, and child neglect. 

Pre-series. John, unreliable and off hunting somewhere, and Sam and Dean, making it work with too little cash and too little food. Love this exact flavor of codependency, not sweet, but hard-earned and for survival. 

Sam still bickered with him about school and television and laundry, but not about food. Hell, he practically waited for Dean to give him permission to eat, because that way they knew there’d be enough. John or no, this was something incredibly important they could control, they could handle. John simply wasn’t in the loop anymore.

[cosmics-beings]

I think another thing I like about starscream, yet hate that the fandom fails to acknowledge about starscream is that, a lot of his rotten personality and his nastiness comes from way before he meets megatron and way before he was a deception.

That’s not to say that a lot of the ways he acts doesn't mirror megatron and the mistreatment he went through. and that impacts how starscream heals, makes friends, etc., idw - like what megatron did still badly affects him and that's not something to be ignored, and it's still not fair that he doesn't get the same happiness megatron did.

But, I think that people do tend to act as if Starscream was perfect and uncorrupt before Megatron.

That's not true...starscream was also a rotten, manipulative and bad person before that. and a lot of that was in response to how he was treated and hating his own body/existence, and the caste system, etc. We see how a lot of people in transformers react to oppression and I think starscream is such an interesting case of someone who is so angry and furious at the system he was created in that he takes it out on others yet still fights for himself and only himself. It is sad, and it’s awful to see how his own existence and the caste system does destroy him, but I think its important to note and to understand to just see how oppressed people still have to fight through their own oppression and sometimes, because of that, because of the trauma they go through, turn rotten. And Starscream did terrible, sneaky, and awful things. He did shitty things to climb to the top and he hurt those around him, he hurt people he trusted him, and he was happy to be that way. No one made him evil, manipulative, or untrustworthy, he did that on his own.

I don’t like that a lot of the fandom tends to tie Starsream’s negative and problematic behavior and personality to megatron because it also takes away from a lot of growth, agency and discussion about starscream’s personality and why he is the way he is.

He wasn’t a perfect, innocent and shy person before he met megatron, or before he became a deception. He still did awful things and while becoming a deception was a way he could grow past the system that created him, he still did very much do so for power. Starscream was an ambitious yet a morally ambiguous person before megatron and he had to be to survive in his own mind. His life wasn’t perfect and happy before megatron, he was still fighting and he was still scheming to survive.

I really don’t like how people kind of take that away from him, and act like everything he does and every shitty way he acts is *because* of megatron. I know it’s not fun to have to admit that he wasn’t a good person before megatron met him, but I think it’s necessary to understand his character, and not a lot of people do. And when you don’t do that, you have people misinterpreting his character and being genuinely shocked when he does villainous things. Like for instance, sky bound starscream’s actions shock a lot of people because they don’t think that he is a villain - I remember a lot of ES critique is that earthspark starscream doesn’t need a redemption act- he just needs people to love and accept him. And I think you guys forgot that he was also a space fascist and enjoyed killing people on his own accord. And while megatron himself does impact how starscream acts and treats others - starscream still was an extremely problematic person eons before he met megatron.

I don’t think this negates just how badly Megatron’s treatment fucked him up, and made it so that it was difficult for him to form relationships even after, or find happiness. And I think that’s just something that cannot be ignored. But I also think starscream is more interesting as a character if the fandom acknowledged that he was this way before, that he wasn’t perfect or innocent, and that he reacted that way because he was unhappy with is life, his station, his caste, etc.

this also isn't a chance to come and try to excuse how megatron treated him, so pls don't do that on here.

[technoturian]

Lucy was a delight to watch. I love the persistent optimist character, I love the Type A, clean-cut kid who doesn't use swears, and most of all I love the character who represents hope in a grim world.

She also represents, in my opinion, your typical PC in both Fallout 3 and Fallout 4. She's the hero who reminds me of the heroes I played, which makes me like her even more.

So I'm terrified of what comes next for her. So often people, especially people making "prestige" edgy television, write these characters so that they can purposely destroy them. I sat through seasons of The Walking Dead where every good character must either be killed or corrupted. It's exhausting. I understand all characters must grow, but my biggest pet peeve is the idea that good is weak, that to become strong you have to become morally ambiguous, that people like Lucy have to be broken and reformed into something worse in order to survive.

So I really, really appreciated that she specifically told Moldaver she wasn't going to be like that. She told the Ghoul she wasn't going to be like that. I just hope she's right.

[artificialchaoscola]

I'm sleep-deprived and yapping about zombot arc! Shadow

Wouldn't it have been really cool if, like, Shadow turning was ultimately Sonic's fault in some way? Or in a way that he would blame himself for it in the future when Eggman is rubbing in his face how his inaction at taking the Doctor out is what led to this in the first place?

Like, I really like this. How Shadow immediately sees the gravity of the situation and doesn't appreciate Sonic's jokes, how he tells him its HIS fault for what occurred, and how Sonic after can't retort anything he says because he's not incorrect. It's harsh, and I think it's fitting for it to be so. Sonic is whimsy and a jokester, always trying to keep the situation light, but that's not what the situation needs.

I think everyone generally agrees that the way Shadow went out in this arc stinks. It was reckless and ooc, as well as just generally boring for a zombie story. He literally grabs the zombot of his own accord for no reason and gets infected, and then refuses to run. Like... what are we doing LMFAO

Instead, what if we make a situation where Shadow has to save someone? I think sacrificing himself to save Rouge AND Sonic as well as the survivors in the truck is the play. Sonic's demonstrated at this point in the story to be winded from all the running he has to do, so make HIM fuck up here. Make him get hit from behind, momentarily stunned and for once not fast enough to stop the zombots from attacking the truck. Make Shadow see this, pause, and then at the last second he chooses to save Sonic and the survivors inside the truck, ordering Sonic to go. We could have Omega also be ripped apart a bit before this to really push Shadow's decision. He could tell them all to run, Sonic reluctantly has to follow, and Shadow's fate should be left a bit ambiguous here. Make the reader think on whether or not he's infected or not, whether or not he can actually survive the infection. Shadow's comms are dead afterwards, we have no clue. Imagine the suspense and the drama + Sonic having to live with the fact that despite that argument Shadow still saved him.

(With this you can also have it be a hope that maybe Shadow IS immune, that they can find him and solve this, but in the meantime they'll have Sonic do the tests.... just for the drama... They hit a lot of zombie tropes in this arc we can't miss THIS one!!)

Then, maybe around when Zavok and his posse start taking control, you finally have a moment where they use zombot Shadow. I think having this happen around Sonic's conversation with Eggman would be HUGE, because Shadow would be the representation of how much he fucked up.

Shadow was the one who wanted to kill Eggman, Shadow was the one who gave them more time despite that, Shadow is forced to be a weapon once more, and Shadow is the representation of what would occur if Sonic turned. Sonic DOES mention in the comic that Shadow is "faster than the average zombot" even without his shoes, which implies what it needs to, but I think it would've been awesome to have this moment happen later in the story, after many bad things occur (like Charmy, Vanilla, the loss of HQ, Tangle, etc.)

Shadow is very useful as a reflection of Sonic in general, and while I don't NEED him to be a main character in this arc, I feel it would've been more impactful to Sonic's story to have him be one of the final threats/moral dilemmas. Sonic is so close to turning as his running is getting less effective at this point. He'd think about how Eggman tried blaming him for helping to spread the virus unknowingly, and then he'd consider how zombot! Shadow has likely been doing just that. All because HE messed up in Sunset City.

I do love this arc regardless because I'm a sucker for zombie stories. I think my only criticism overall is Shadow, which I know a lot of people can relate on. With a little reconstruction though we can make this REALLY good, or at the very least avoid the issue of Shadow going out like a total jobber.

...At least we got that one panel of zombot!Shadow chasing after the truck and it was really funny so bonus points IDW you win I'm wrong frfrfr--

[mysticcrownwolf]

I have not watched arcane but I follow enough people that do to have to general idea of what it's about and I am calling it right now the only reason this fandom demonize Vi is because they like Jinx and by extension Silco so all the bullshit ass enabling he did with Jinx for years will be forgotten because Vi punches her for killing everybody she ever loved and then the people in this fandom who don't have even a quarter of a brain cell to rub together will be like well Jinx suffered so much because of Vi because she had suicidal thoughts and see people meanwhile Vi deadass saw everyone she loved die in front of her, then lose her only remaining family to Silco and then spend her whole childhood in prison. Like the people in this fandom can't comprehend morally grey characters or even think that their faves can be complex people who can do bad things if the narrative shifts that way.

Look me in the eye and tell me these people have a single thought in their head while watching the show because the writers said these two seasons are the Jinx and Vi story. That they will probably make more arcane stuff but these seasons are focused on the sisters and so why do I see post like I wish Vi didn't have so much screen time or I wish Vi and Cait story wasn't the main focus here and the show focused more on "insert any background narrative they wanted to see" like bitch go fuck yourself.

Like I have never seen such a large group of people utterly incapable of media literacy it's like they need to be handfed concepts like:-

"A doomed narrative means no happy endings at most you get a bittersweet one"

"Your fave can be a bad person and still be your fave you don't have to justify them as a good or reasonable person (and demonize their equally traumatized sister looking at you weirdly purist Jinx fans) to continue liking them.

"Metaphors and parallels shouldn't be spoken or spelled out for you. You as a viewer are suppose to understand then yourself using your brain"

"Good people can do some bad things this doesn't make then irredeemable and bad people can do some good things this doesn't suddenly makes them fully redeemable"

"If a shows ending is ambiguous it doesn't mean the writers were too pussy to commit to a proper ending it means they purposefully made it ambiguous so their can be more than one interpretation for it"

"Not all good stories needs have good or even satisfying happily ever after usually in a doomed narrative you just survive to live another day"

"Just because someone's trauma manifest in a more visible way doesn't mean another characters didn't suffer at all (still looking at you Vi haters)"

To summarise do I think the people who can't see a nuanced story like arcane without generalizing everything in black and white and then complaining about how it's bad are all brainless idiots with the mental capacity of a third grader with no capacity for media literacy or reflection. Yes. Is it probably a baseless generalization. Probably. Do I care. No,fuck you'll and all your arcane hate post you all tricked me into reading by disguise them as actually analysis.

If I can pick up on the subtle nuances and non linear narrative of arcane by just reading Tumblr posts and watching some clips on YouTube you people have no reason to have this shitty of an opinion when you actually consumed the full media.

[librababe99]

Storms of Vengeance

cw: MDNI, 18+, Young! Erik Lehnsherr Mutant! Reader, emotional and psychological manipulation, sexual themes, toxic relationships Word count: 1.6K Summary: You're a powerful weather mutant, caught in the magnetic pull of Erik Lehnsherr, a man consumed by his vision of mutant supremacy. As the storm rages around you, so does the undeniable tension between you both. Will you join him in shaping a new world, or will you resist the storm within and unleash your vengeance?

A/N: Alright no one asked for this.. BUT i'll be honest if young! Charles doesn't have a grip on me its definitely Erik <3 Also yes, I gave the reader similar powers to Ororo (love her btw!). I felt like it worked perfectly, adding to the complexity and moral ambiguity of two powerful individuals "falling in love". I use that loosely...lol...

(Marvel Masterlist)

The wind howled, whipping against your skin as you stood at the edge of the cliff. Below, the ocean churned violently, black waves crashing against jagged rocks. Thunder rumbled overhead, as if the heavens themselves were embroiled in the war that had just taken place. You could still taste blood in the air, feel the adrenaline that had carried you through the battle coursing through your veins.

But the fight wasn’t over. Not yet.

Erik Lehnsherr stood behind you, his presence as heavy as the storm that surrounded you both. He hadn’t said anything since the skirmish ended, but you could feel his eyes on you, as constant and unrelenting as the rain that soaked your clothes. You were a mystery to him, and that made you dangerous.

He had always been drawn to power—first for survival, then for vengeance. And now, his hunger had evolved into something far more insidious: domination. You were his equal in power, though neither of you had admitted it. He could command metal, bend the very earth around him with a flick of his wrist. You commanded the weather—thunder, lightning, wind, and rain—your power could rip apart the sky itself.

It was no coincidence that a storm brewed when the two of you were near. The atmosphere mirrored the tension, the volatile energy that sparked between you. But there was something more beneath the surface, something neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

“Another victory,” Erik said, his voice cutting through the wind. He stepped closer, his tall frame casting a long shadow even in the dim light of the storm. “Another step toward our cause.”

The "cause." It was all Erik ever spoke of. The Brotherhood, mutant supremacy, his grand vision of a new world where mutants ruled and humans bowed before them. But there was something in his tone tonight that unsettled you.

You turned to face him, your eyes narrowing as lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating his face in stark relief. His sharp features looked even more dangerous in the half-light, his eyes glinting like steel.

“Is that all this is to you?” you asked, your voice low but strong, cutting through the wind and rain. “Another victory? Another step toward a war you can’t win?”

Erik’s lips curled into a cold, humorless smile. He stepped closer still, his boots sinking into the wet earth. You could feel the magnetic field radiating from him, pulling on the metal debris scattered around the battlefield. Even the earth seemed to respond to his will.

“We are winning, my dear,” Erik replied smoothly, his eyes gleaming. “The humans are crumbling. Their resistance is futile, and soon they will be nothing more than relics of a past we will bury. You’ve seen it yourself—how they flee before us. They know their time is up.”

You clenched your fists, feeling the storm respond to your growing frustration. The wind picked up, swirling around the two of you, and rain lashed harder against your skin. The clouds above thickened, rolling in darker and more menacing than before.

“And you think that’s victory?” you demanded, stepping toward him, closing the gap between you. “Killing them? Burning their cities? Is that the future you want for our kind?”

Erik’s eyes flashed with something dangerous, something dark and cold that made your breath hitch. He reached out suddenly, his gloved fingers brushing against your cheek, and despite the chill in the air, his touch was almost warm.

“What I want,” Erik said, his voice soft but filled with a dark intensity, “is a world where our kind is no longer hunted. A world where we are no longer afraid. And I will destroy anyone who stands in the way of that future.”

His fingers lingered on your skin, and you felt a pull—like gravity, like the storm itself was reaching out to you, as though Erik’s very presence had somehow woven itself into the tempest. Your pulse quickened despite yourself, and the heat between your bodies grew, like a fire stoked by the raging winds.

“I know you feel it,” Erik continued, his hand slipping to your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze. His voice was lower now, more intimate. “You know what we could achieve together. You’re powerful—more powerful than you let on. I’ve seen it in the way the skies bend to your will, the way the winds obey your command. We could be gods, you and I. Or…” He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Or you can remain my most dangerous weakness.”

You inhaled sharply, the tension between you palpable. His words wrapped around you, tightening like a vice. You knew what he was offering. Power. Partnership. A future forged in fire and blood. Erik wasn’t just asking you to join him—he was asking you to surrender to him. To let him in, to allow the force of his vision to consume you.

The storm surged around you, lightning cracking through the sky, illuminating the battlefield for a split second. You felt the storm respond to your emotions, the air thick with static, the winds howling in tandem with your inner turmoil.

Could you trust him? Could you stand beside him, knowing the darkness that lived in his heart?

Erik’s hand tightened on your jaw, his thumb brushing your lips in a way that made your heart race. “You don’t have to be afraid,” he whispered, his voice softening. “You and I, we’re the same. We’ve both been broken by this world. But together, we can remake it.”

Your mind screamed at you to resist, to fight back, to remind him that you weren’t his to command. But your body—your body betrayed you. There was something intoxicating about Erik’s power, something magnetic about the way he looked at you, as if you were the only thing that mattered. The storm outside paled in comparison to the storm inside you.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you whispered, your voice shaky, betraying the emotions swirling inside. “But I will not be your pawn.”

Erik’s eyes darkened, his hand sliding down from your jaw to your neck, his fingers wrapping around your throat in a possessive grip. It wasn’t tight enough to hurt, but the promise was there, the unspoken threat lingering in the air between you.

“Who said anything about being a pawn?” Erik murmured, his lips dangerously close to yours. “I don’t want to control you. I want to unleash you.”

The storm intensified, lightning striking the ground dangerously close to where you both stood. The rain beat down harder, as if nature itself was crying out in protest to the madness that surrounded you. But all you could focus on was Erik—his eyes locked onto yours, the heat of his body pressing against yours.

Your breaths came in shallow gasps as Erik’s thumb brushed the sensitive skin of your throat, his other hand resting against your waist. The tension was unbearable, the storm inside you colliding with the storm outside. You knew that once you gave in, there would be no turning back.

In that moment, something inside you snapped.

Without thinking, you grabbed Erik’s hand, pulling him closer, your lips crashing against his in a kiss that was as violent as it was desperate. The storm answered in kind, thunder booming overhead, lightning splitting the sky in jagged streaks of white-hot energy. Erik responded immediately, his arms wrapping around you with a possessive hunger, as if he had been waiting for this moment as long as you had.

His lips were cold at first, but they warmed quickly, the heat between you building until it felt like the storm wasn’t just around you but within you. Erik’s hands were everywhere—on your waist, on your back, in your hair—each touch sending shockwaves through your body.

You pushed against him, forcing him back toward the cliff's edge, the rain-soaked ground slippery beneath your feet. He let you lead, let you push him, but you both knew he could stop you at any moment if he wanted. This was his power, his control, but for now, he let you have the illusion of it.

When you finally broke the kiss, your chest was heaving, and Erik’s eyes were blazing with something dark and primal. The storm raged around you both, rain drenching your clothes, but neither of you cared.

Erik’s hand tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him as he whispered in your ear, “Do you see it now? The power we could wield together?”

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the way his words made your heart race, made your blood sing with the temptation of it. You could feel the storm inside you reaching a breaking point, a chaotic force begging to be unleashed.

“I see it,” you admitted, your voice barely audible over the wind. “But I don’t trust you, Erik.”

His grip on you tightened, his eyes narrowing. For a moment, you thought he might pull away, might lose the facade of control. But then, a slow, dangerous smile spread across his face, and he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Trust is irrelevant,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with dark promise. “What matters is power. And you, my dear, have more of it than you realize.”

Before you could respond, Erik’s hand shot out, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you into another kiss—this one rougher, more demanding. His teeth grazed your lip, and you gasped into his mouth, feeling the raw intensity of his desire radiating from him like heat.

He wanted you—body and power alike. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, the weight of it settling deep in your chest.

[strawbeerossi]

Fearless

Pairing: Unsub!Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Part Description: Weeks after the incident with Cat and her death, Spencer is left with vivid dreams that make him question his job, his morals, and the path he took to protect the innocent.

Content Warnings: Coarse language, night terrors, mention of masturbation but nothing explicit, unsub!Spencer makes an appearance, violence, death, ambiguous ending.

Word Count: 2.2K

Part one || Part two || Part three

Navigation || Masterlist || Request

Highly anticipated part three and the end of a very brief series. I’m confident it’s gonna leave y’all wanting more for the way I ended it soooo feel free to message/ask for scenarios and one shots regarding Unsub!Spence

Lightning strikes, lighting up the alley where Spencer had doubled over, hands on his knees while he took in a deep breath. Blood splatter was on the side of the abandoned brick building, a body slumped in place.

This wasn’t something that went according to plan, the feeling of rain soaking the suit stained with crimson. He didn’t know what came over him. It was like he was.. He was a shadow of his former self. 

He enjoyed pressing the blade of the knife deep within his victim’s neck, the way blood managed to spurt onto his face. It gave him a rush, a hit of adrenaline that was stronger than any drug he could’ve done.

There was an awakening inside of him, a burn deep in his gut that was almost arousing. He didn’t have any erectile issues, so he was curious on how stabbing a man could bring out such animalistic feelings. 

The man who made an oath to protect innocence, the man who worked for fifteen goddamn years of his life to rid the world of darkness now falling into a dangerous addiction that not even the BAU would be able to stop.

Spencer’s eyes were popping open, a thin veil of sweat covering his face as he was quickly sitting up on the bed, head tilting to the side to look over at the bright light of the alarm clock. 

3 A.M.

His eyes were shifting over in the direction of the body in bed beside him, Y/N’s body stretched out as the moonlight was giving a pale light into the quiet bedroom. Spencer let his hands come up to rub his face tiredly.

Pulling the duvet off of himself, he was quietly getting out of bed. Last thing he needed was to wake his girlfriend up and be at the risk of being questioned. His feet were quietly shuffling on the carpeted floor in efforts to quietly get to the bathroom.

A shower won’t hurt.

These nightmares had been consistent for the past few weeks, ever since the incident with Y/N and Cat. Spencer had killed unsubs before, people who had given him no other choice. They always haunted him, a once young man who was struggling with facing the darkness of his career. As he got older, his empathy and emotions stayed intact. 

Until he went to prison.

Prison made him have to survive in whatever means possible. He’d gotten beaten, he watched another inmate who became his friend have his throat slit in front of him, he was even tampering with a batch of drugs he had to distribute. He had to be strong, not show his fear or weakness.

When he found out that Cat was behind the absolute hell he endured, he wanted nothing more than to kill her. He wanted to watch the life drain from her eyes when he choked her to death, to have that smug bitch succumb to his bare hands. He wanted to outsmart her and win this whole game once and for all. 

Well, he managed to do that, a bullet to the brain being something that he had to settle for. Instead of seeing her face, instead he was faced with yet another dilemma; Y/N. She was a murderer, darkness looming behind her sweet exterior. She lured men in, using her charm and sex appeal to catch them at their weakest. He’d learned it very early on in their relationship, it being too obvious.

No normal woman disappears at all hours of the night wearing the best clothes and looking like a delicate, beautiful doll. He let her do it, as horrible as it was. He loved her and refused to lose her, no matter what the circumstances would be. Prison was hell, he’d been there. He wouldn’t send the woman who he’d fallen in love with to the wolves. There was a sick part of him that loved it. Loved the idea of her brutality coming out with another man and then her quickly getting cleaned up to come home to him.

As he was recalling the night in question, Spencer sucked in a deep breath as he was turning on the shower head. He still couldn’t believe he’d killed Cat. He thought that it would haunt him, that the whole ordeal was going to be nothing but another bucket of trauma dumped in the bottomless pit in his brain. 

However, it awakened something different inside of him. He loved that he killed her, he loved watching her body fall like dead weight, he loved the sight of the blood on his girlfriend's face as she looked at him in pure shock.

There was a low groan that left Spencer’s lips, cock hard at the thoughts of taking care of the one woman who tortured him for years. It took thirty minutes before his thick ropes of cum were going down the shower drain, his sins being washed away for the time being. 

After cleaning himself up, it wasn’t long until he was quietly sneaking back into the bedroom. He didn’t bother with clothes, just sliding under the sheets while his gaze was on the alarm clock again.

4:25 A.M.

Insomnia was starting to set in. Six hours worth of sleep isn’t the worst thing.

The movement in the bed had the other body shifting under the sheets, a soft yawn leaving the woman’s lips as she was slowly rolling her body over to face her boyfriend. “Nightmares again?” She asked in a hushed tone, her soft touch bringing him out of his thoughts. “Yeah, you can say that.” He said softly while letting an arm drape around his girlfriend’s smaller frame. 

“Mmm, I’m sorry.” She spoke softly, face nuzzling in his chest as her eyes were fluttering shut. She wasn’t aware of his urges and Spencer felt that was best. He’d warned her that he’d kill her himself if he found out she was going back to her old ways, yet here he was developing a thirst for blood that he couldn’t quench.

Spencer was a lot of things but a hypocrite wasn't one of them. At least, he liked to believe that to be the case.

The next few weeks were the same. Although the nightmares got more vivid, his blood lust worsening the itch became more urgent to scratch. He felt like he was losing his mind, the need overshadowing any form of reasoning.

That’s how he found himself here, at a bar. He told Y/N that he was going out with the guys for the night, the idea of sneaking behind her back to do the very thing he chastised her for made him feel a new rush.

Getting caught by the police wouldn’t happen but getting caught by Y/N; That could definitely be a possibility. 

After years of being the good guy who caught the notorious serial killers who ruined lives, it was his turn to use every ounce of knowledge he had to avoid getting caught. He knew establishments that didn’t have cameras, even some where you can pay to remain anonymous.

He’d chosen a place where he could keep his anonymity, the woman at the front taking the payment and letting him through, not getting a name nor number. Spencer covered his bases, an oversized hoodie covering his head as he walked into the building. It was a bar, a dimly lit bar that was any murderer’s dream.

He had made it to the bar, ordering a drink for himself as his gaze was scanning over the faces in the bar. It was mostly men and women looking for affairs, there being another building down the street that offered rooms for the night. Now, Spencer couldn’t be seen in the area after they left, so he had his own plan. Tonight was going to be the night.

However, his mouth ran dry when he heard a familiar voice, head snapping over to see his girlfriend at the same bar. What the fuck? Did she learn nothing? Why was she here?

Like Spencer, his girlfriend had urges that needed to be fulfilled. She’d found out about this man in particular from police reports. She stalked him for weeks, learning his routine and secrets. That’s how she landed here tonight.

The couple briefly locked eyes, Y/N’s eyes widening from surprise as she was staring into the familiar honey colored irises. Instead of coming over to profusely apologize, a smirk was pulling onto her lips as she grabbed her drink from the bar while she was leaning over to the unknown man beside her, the two talking quietly amongst one another.

She’d giggle, put her hand on his upper arm, even lean in closer to whisper sweet nothings. There was a burning sensation inside of Spencer. There was jealousy and anger beginning to bubble over the surface. Was she doing this on purpose?

The male was pushing the glass he’d been nursing away as he approached his girlfriend and the man sitting beside her. There was a feeling of power that Spencer felt when he was heading over. “Hey, I noticed you two from across the bar.” He began, that awkward tight lipped smile on his face. “I’m not used to things like this but I was wondering if you two wanted to come with me to the next bar?”

Y/N was playing along, a gasp leaving her lips as she gripped the bicep of the black haired man beside her. “We should! Who doesn’t like making friends?” She asked, an eyebrow raising as she let her tongue run over her lower lip in a slow and deliberate motion. 

Spencer wasn’t gonna do what she thought he was going to do. There was no way.

Like the idiot that this guy was, he was shrugging and agreeing to accompany the two to another bar. “It can’t be so bad, right?” He asked as he let an eyebrow raise, a smile on his face.

Oh. If he only knew.

The couple and the unsuspecting victim were heading out of the bar together, the woman letting her arm link with the attractive stranger’s beside her. The night brought a quiet atmosphere, the streets being empty. The side of town they were in wasn’t too sketchy but things happened there plenty of times.

As they were walking past an alley, Y/N and Spencer shared a glance; one where she was almost daring him to make a move. He took up the dare, quickly grabbing the male by his collar before shoving him against the brick wall closest to them. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to blindly trust strangers?” The woman spoke up while shaking her head in faux disappointment. “Sweetheart, you had such a promising chance!” She taunted while glancing up at Spencer, anticipating his next move.

While reaching into her bra, it wasn’t long until the woman was holding up a switchblade. “Are you gonna be a man or do I have to show you how to do this?” She taunted her boyfriend, smirking as his darkened eyes were focused on her. “You better watch your mouth or you’ll be the next one in this position.”

She should've been the one in this position. After all, she corrupted his mind. She made him push himself into being a man that he feared he would become, the woman being the driving influence of all of this stress and all of these violent thoughts.

As the blade was gripped in his hand, his knuckles were turning white. There was a small voice in the back of his mind begging him to be rational, however it was being overshadowed by the feeling of sheer power the moment that the blade punctured the skin.

“Stabbing someone thirty times would actually be quite tiring,” Spencer inferred, balling up his fist as he was hitting his thigh thirty times to emulate the stabbings in the intensity of the story told through the stab wounds. “You’re right. This would have worn anyone out.” Gideon agreed, the sheet being pulled back as they were inspecting the victim in front of them. 

“The question is, what pushes someone to violence of this degree?” Elle was asking, her arms crossed as she was combing over any reasoning in her mind.

“We need to figure that out.” Jason stated as he was looking between the two young agents. “What causes a psychotic break?

Trauma. Anguish. Pain. 

Fifty stabs and slashes did the trick for Spencer, the knife finally falling out of his hand the minute that the lifeless man was falling like a weight. Did he really just do that?

“Wow, Spence.” Y/N brought him out of his trance as she was bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. “You said that I was brutal but look at-”

She was cut off as her body was being slammed up against the wall behind them, eyes widening. Although before she could plead for her case, she was cut off by a rough kiss, one that was enough to knock the wind out of her entirely. With his bloodied hands falling on he hips, the woman was letting her eyes flutter shut as their kissing got heavier, displaying a dark realization.

Spencer liked it. 

As he kept her planted against the brick wall, he pulled from the kiss and let out a huff of air. “We need to go.” He murmured, stopping to pick up the knife he’d previously dropped before grabbing Y/N’s hand. It was only a matter of time before some drunk asshole was stumbling upon the dead body and he’d rather avoid the issue.

Running through the night, the two had intertwined fingers, laughter filling the quiet night air as the realization of their actions had set in. 

The world had scarred Spencer for far too long, it was his turn to scar the world back. This was his chance to reclaim his power and strength after many years of having it slowly stripped away from him.

This was the start of his story.

This was his turn to act in self indulgence, to enjoy himself for what he liked.

The best part was? 

He’d never get caught.

[0rosesdeathroses0]

My Headcanon for Enki’s Sister, because Why Not

I headcanon that her name is Ninmah.

I imagine that she would have short hair or even a completely shaved head, but I lean towards her having short hair or at least shorter hair than Enki.

She has the same aloof personality as Enki, although I imagine that in some ways, she is a lot more aggressive than him.

Most of her strength lies in combat. She is smart and well versed in magic, though not as much as Enki. So whenever they are together, they match each other well she handles the combat while Enki handles the magic in a fight.

She looks almost exactly like Enki, except she is slightly taller, stronger, and healthier looking. She is fit and well proportioned for her weight.

As children, they fought a lot and had a strong sibling rivalry, but that was due to them constantly being pitted against each other.

Despite the rivalry, she was always the one taking care of Enki in some way, almost taking on a motherly role at a young age.

Both she and Enki, if they were to give anyone any kind of love, would express it as tough love though in a way that would lowkey be very unhealthy.

She is far more intimidating than Enki, as I imagine her to be more hostile and to have more blank expressions than him.

Both Enki and she have a love hate relationship, but they will always have each other’s backs, even after everything.

She is a highly respected dark priestess among her peers, as she is the chosen one, so Enki isn’t receiving the same respect she does.

Enki still holds a lot of resentment toward her for being the “perfect version of him,” while she resents the roles and expectations that were placed on her and continue to weigh on her.

Her voice is deeper than Enki’s. I generally imagine Enki having a soft but very eerie voice. The same goes for her, except hers is deep.

In some ways, I imagine she is more morally ambiguous than Enki perhaps even more evil mainly because she is still active in her cult, whereas Enki is not. So she was taught to be even more morally ambiguous.

Despite all that, she would choose death over harming her brother if it meant he would survive, which is why she refused to kill him during their fight.

[dreamingofthewild]

I don't have any skin in the game so I probably don't have the authority to comment on this. But I find it weird how some people in the fandom put Wyll, Karlach, and Halsin on a pedestal for having come out of their abusive situations with their morals and humanity intact.

If you prefer the perfect "good guys", there is nothing wrong with that. I also enjoy stories about hero's who despite everything they have been through never lose themselves. But you can't expect everyone to walk out of a traumatic situation with a smile on their face a love for humanity immediately.

What are we saying that, if bad things happen to someone that they must remain optimistic and kind? Astarion, Lae'zel and Shadowheart are still worth saving.

I mean, Astarion can show that he is capable of changing if your character can show him empathy and kindness. Afterall, not helping him heal is how you get the ending where he continuous the cycle of abuse. Often people are quick to discard 'difficult' people rather than attempting to help them, and so they fall back into bad habits. Then that is used as 'proof' that the person is a monster.

No one is born evil. Either like Lae'zel and Shadowheart the environment that someone grew up in can affect their behaviour, or like Astarion, having all their fundamental needs stripped away. I am not saying that this excuses their behaviour but is explains it. And in real life I get that people don't always change, but this instance, they can depending on the choices that you make.

I have also mentioned before how Gale is weirdly considered morally corruptible by some because he chooses to stay with the PC after killing the tieflings as opposed to not dying. He is not giving in to evil here or showing that he is weak willed. Considering the bomb he has in his chest is his bending of his morals so that he doesn't turn into a mindflayer and explode everyone really a an evil choice?

Not to mention how he is villainised for a mistake he made where he had good intentions. Gale is one of the "good guys". His desire to survive at all costs and his ambition do not make him a bad person. With the orb he made a mistake, but he does not deserve to be punished for his lack of wisdom and curiosity there.

There is nothing wrong with liking good characters who always make the right decision, who always do no wrong, and who always remain hopeful no matter what happens to them. But I am critical of how the complex, morally ambiguous and not perfect characters are sometimes treated in the fandom. A character is not bad because they are messy and human.

I am not saying that everyone has to help them, but it's just recognising that they are all abuse victims and they all react to that abuse differently. I'm not saying that the ones who don't change are boring but it's weird to put them on a pedestal and claim that they are better because they are 'nice' from the get go and continue to be always do the good thing no matter what happens.

I guess I also love stories of redemption and the complexity of human nature.

[stalkedbytrains]

False Idols

Lucienne Prophet watched the Chosen One die. Now there is no one left to stop the apocalypse. But she will not sit back and wait for death, she will try to stop the God of Darkness no matter what stands in her way.She’ll have to recruit some people abandoned by the Empire of Light to help her stop the end of the world. A blood mage with a centuries long vendetta, some spies with questionable methods, and a woman made of fire.Will the war finally consume Lucienne? Will the gods of Light and Dark finally destroy each other and the world in their long war?

I wrote this 116,000 dark fantasy knowledge back in 2019. It's long, but it's good, I promise.

The book is heavily influenced by things like Mass Effect and the original Dragon Age. We have prophecies that may or may not be true (I mean the Chosen One is dead in chapter 2 so like... yeah), we have blood magic, we have vows of eternal vengeance and hatred, we have blood oaths, we have morally ambiguous spies, we have a world spanning religious empire of light and beauty that totally isn't rotten to the core, we have Lucienne and Aracelis as a pair of leads that are really the only thing that the other has to hold on to in the End Times, and we have a badass wardog named Sasha (she's the best).

Below will be some heavy spoilers just in case you want to know about all the things before you commit.

SPOILERS

Aracelis is a blood mage in the last remaining country outside of the Ilanem Empire

She's committed crimes and is imprisoned when the paladins of light invade and start to destroy her country

She loses her boyfriend in the fighting and swears death upon all of Ilanem, summoning a blood demon of vengeance that is bound to her body and soul

Lucienne Prophet is the last surviving friend of the Chosen One who died trying to stop the coming apocalypse of the Corrupt and the God of Darkness Cimenor

She hates Michael (the Chosen One) because he abandoned her, leaving her for dead, and got her husband killed when he rescued her. Both Michael and his god refused to save or heal either of them, so Luce is very bitter

Luce has a wardog named Sasha who's last order from Luce's husband is to protect her no matter what

Luce refuses to just let the apocalypse happens since the Chosen One is dead, instead she takes her Rangers to the most dangerous places and continues to fight, pushing herself beyond the breaking point

Recognizing that Luce is the only hope for stopping this war, she is "chosen" by the God of Light, something she doesn't want, but she will use

Luce recruits and uses the other military branches as she is elevated to a position of power, recruiting a couple of spies, Roth and Charna, who lead the Inquisition, she also recruits the immortal and, up until this point, hidden Aracelis into her crusade

Aracelis secretly convinces Luce to do a ritual to give herself blood magic as well, as Aracelis thinks that the only way to really fight this thing is to use every tool at their disposal

Luce also frees a fire spirit that had been chained up and used as a symbol by the Church of Light

over the course of the novel battles are won and lost, Aracelis and Luce get closer

but Aracelis is compromised, more than she knows

the deals that she made to destroy Ilanem also want her to kill Luce, who she has been in love with for a long time, she refuses to do so

which results in a tense fight with Luce (and a Corrupt Dragon) and ends with Luce seemingly killing Aracelis

but Aracelis is immortal, she can't be killed by something as trite as swords

that doesn't change much for Luce who killed her

Aracelis swears a blood oath to Luce, now magically compelled to help her in every way

Luce, Aracelis, Charna, Roth, and the fire spirit Shula go to confront the God of Darkness and it's armies of Corrupt

Roth and Shula die in the assault

Luce manages to kill Cimenor, almost dying herself

Aracelis is compelled to not act during the battle as the darkness has a hold on her

the novel ends with the victorious team returning to Ilanem only to be greeted by the "resurrected" Michael and the God of Light who wants them all executed for heresy

Aracelis fights her nemesis and Charna helps

Lucienne as a chosen of the Light God can't fight, but when she manages to act, is severely wounded

Aracelis kills the Ilanem god and finally completes her end of the deal, freeing herself from her vengeance demon

Sasha lives through the entire book

Aracelis at some point admits to having feelings for Luce, Luce in turn is beyond stressed out and simply cannot think beyond surviving the next few minutes, although at the very end she recognizes that she does in fact have feelings for Aracelis

[theheirofthesharingan]

How do you honestly feel about konoha/the shinobi system in general?

Shinobi world is a fantastic fictional world with an ancient history that gives depth to its existence. But it's not perfect, because of all the practices that go on in it. The world is dark and mysterious and has a history that is as old as time.

But it is also a broken system of child soldiers, where children killing children or even adults taking advantage of children isn't seen as a bad thing. And that's why Naruto, the main character, exists, who acknowledges how messed up the system is and how hate and love are tied together and he is too naive to understand a lot of things.

We also see the other, darker side of the Shinobi world and Konoha, both, through Sasuke and Itachi. While Naruto's world is all sunshine and green and he learns through his experiences, Itachi has already seen the worst, has done the worst, and faced their consequences. Sasuke, much like him, although in ignorance, has experienced similar things and the way he responds to injustice against himself is a reflection of how violence is embedded in the system of its people, no matter how kind and gentle they otherwise are.

Many people criticise Sasuke for wanting revenge against Konoha, but "revenge" is also the reaction of Shikamaru and Naruto and they're expected to train and kill who killed their masters.

In their world, people not only are more violent to each other than an average person, but also have a higher pain tolerance. And since the ninja world is a place everyone is trying to survive, it's not a place to find out your heroes.

The good people here will have some kind of corruption in them and the bad people will have some kind of goodness to them. And at one point there are no lines because they're all so miserable and broken that one side can do anything whether it's morally right or not.

I feel majority of the fandom uses the real world as a kind of reference to analyse and assess the Shinobi world, which is unlikely to give you a clear image, because what the author is telling you is that the world he created has no heroes. If you're going to use your own personal moral lense to view the Shinobi world and judge characters based on what you approve or disapprove, you're not going to get a clear picture of it. IMO, this is the reason there are such hypocritical takes on the characters like Sasuke and Itachi and other morally ambiguous characters.

Konoha is the same. Since it's the village we spend most time with and the narrative never acknowledgew its system is wrong, it's easier to fall in love with it. Konoha isn't worse or better than the others, in my opinion. It's just that everyone in it sounds like a hypocrite. Kakashi, for example, tells Zabuza they're better people for not making kids kill each other, but then we're introduced to the Chunin exams. We have the venerated second Hokage who experimented with the dead bodies. Hyuuga clan practices slavery. And so on.

Konoha is more powerful than the other nations because they have the right strategy and the strongest tailed beast. And they manage to hide the genocide of its people, blame the victims, driving one away to death and blaming the other for wanting justice (while advocating the same ideals for others, as I mentioned above).

It's awful to see that Koshimoto leaves the darkness of his world unattended. It could be because he needs Boruto to run, so the issues Naruto promised Sasuke would get resolved are never actually resolved. He's probably uninterested. It should probably frustrate me more, but I think when I finished Naruto, I had expected this more or less. And it's been a long time since Manga ended (even it's been long enough for anime), so frustration isn't going to change anything.

[gay-disabled-characters-showdown]

LGBTQ+ Disabled Characters Showdown Round 3, Wave 2, Poll 9

A character being totally canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included. 

Check out the other polls in this wave and prior here.

Lan Wangji-The Untamed / Mo Dao Zu Shi

Qualifications:

Canonically gay, pretty heavily coded as autistic (esp in the show)

Additional qualifications by @lovewanxian : I would like to add that Lan Wangji also has extremely extensive scarring on his back from getting whipped 33 times and spent an extended amount of time bedridden because of it

Propaganda:

He's an absolute badass - in a series full of morally ambiguous or outright immoral characters, he's one of the only people around to consistently show he's reliable, honorable and strong. Some examples include Lan Wangji defending Wei Wuxian, his love interest and eventual husband, against his own clan and other clans because WWX went against their rules and tried to save innocent people, or LWJ raising WWX's adopted son for years and being a great father and mentor to him. While LWJ isn't *technically* canonically autistic, (not that this word would exist in the setting), he has flat affect, fixates on rules and his difficulty in understanding people's emotions is explicitly brought up and a minor plot point.

Wylan Van Eck-Six of Crows

Qualifications:

Wylan has dyslexia (heavily implied, but not outright said bc setting) and is gay,

Dyslexic and gay!

They are in a adorable m/m relationship, and also have severe dyslexia to the point that (when eight) he could not read or write despite formal education

Wylan is gay and dyslexic!

Propaganda:

Wylan and Jesper have the absolute cutest relationship. Also, Wylan has dyslexia. I don't think it was outright said, but that was heavily implied. It just couldn't be set out loud for the sake of maintaining the fantasy setting. He's such a good character, and is primarily known for his skill with explosives, not his struggles with reading and writing. The other protagonists also never judge him for it, and the only character who does is the kind of person 90% of readers want to kill by the end of the series.

His boyfriend Jesper helped him fake being able to read so they could beat Wylan's shitty dad.

- He's incredibly sweet - But can also be ok with murder sometimes, like when killing unconscious people wasn't good - so just wake them up. - He was thrown out of the house and his father tried to kill him, because of said dyslexia, but managed to survive. Then rebelled against his father and with the help of friends took down his empire - He is very talented at the flute. And can draw very well, along with being a great chemist and demolition experts (hired for making flash bombs and other cool shit-) - Helps break into a world-class prison, then blushes the entire time because the person he's pared with keeps flirting with him - Asks his (eventual boyfriend) if he's into guys. Then immediately gets flustered when Jesper picks it up - Is very rich heir (due to shenanigans) and there's a one-off line about this sweet bean kind of being a sugar daddy- (just gives his boyfriend money to do stocks with, to stop him from gambling) - Supports his boyfriend throughout his gambling addiction and tries to help him overcome it

Wylan is dyslexic and because of this written off as stupid by his father. However, he is actually a genius, especially with chemicals, and he uses his genius and his new band of misfit friends to take his father down and read him for filth in front of a whole bunch of important people. He is good at making things explode. He also nabs himself a hot boyfriend in the process so good for him!

The qualifications and propaganda paragraphs correspond, @wisheduponastar is the third submitter.