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christisilluminati · 12 days

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Part 3: Bridging Spiritual and Mental Realms l Spiritual Warfare, and the Path to Redemption

The True Nature of God:

In Part One, I shared my personal story, revealing how a spirit instructed me to murder and even self-harm. In Part Two we discussed how the man in Mark 5 also self-harmed and how Satan attempted to convince Jesus to jump off the pinnacle of the Temple, a trick meant to persuade Him to commit suicide.

These are not the only stories in the Bible where Satan has tried to stop a chosen one of Christ from rising. In Genesis 22, God/SIN instructs Abraham to go into the land of vision and offer his only son Isaac as a burnt offering. Isaac was to be an ancestor of Jesus. The land of vision was then changed to say the region of Moriah. Why did Satan change this? So that you wouldn't see psychosis.

Genesis 22:2 God said to him, Take thine one begotten son, whom thou lovest, Isaac; and go into the land of vision, and offer thou him there into burnt sacrifice on one of the hills which I shall show to thee. WYC 1382

Genesis 22:2: Then God said, “Take your son, your only son, whom you love—Isaac—and go to the region of Moriah. Sacrifice him there as a burnt offering on a mountain I will show you. NIV 2011

In Exodus 4 we see God give Moses instructions to head into Egypt but before he ever made it there "A LORD" attempts to kill. Do we worship a God that would toy with us like this? Is that the kind of God we worship?

Exodus 4:24 And when Moses was in the way, in an inn, the Lord came to him, and would slay him. WYC 1382

Christian teachings do present a view of God that can seem impulsive and unpredictable. They may not describe it as negatively as I just have, justifying that God threatened to kill Moses for not circumcising his son. Or that he didn’t change his mind about murder but rather permitted certain murders.

This confusion leads millions of people to doubt God's trustworthiness and question His existence. I can't say their logic is wrong, just as I can’t say the logic of Christians is wrong either. Christians have their own personal reasons for believing in God; they trust in His existence based on their understanding of the Bible. Their logic is, "Who am I to question God?"

For a nonbeliever, let's imagine for a moment that God is real. If that were the case, who would have the right to question Him? Do we have the right to question a court judge, or is his authority absolute?

From a different perspective, you might say, "No, if God is real, then nobody has the right to question Him." Their logic is valid in that context. The issue lies in the gaps in their understanding that need to be addressed to teach the truth accurately.

Christians do not recognize Satan speaking in the Bible; they focus solely on the singular God they are taught about. They are unaware that Satan too is a god (2 Corinthians 4:4) and that there have been changes made to the Bible. They simply do not know this.

If you continue reading my work, you'll learn that God never permitted certain murders and would not send you on a mission only to try to kill you before you reach your destination. We can look to Jesus to understand the true nature of Christ. Jesus demonstrated the character of the TRUE GOD.

He never stuck back. So what God spoke, eye for an eye? (Matthew 5:38-48) He challenged Jewish laws. So what God spoke those laws? Instead, He emphasized the laws embodied in the Ten Commandments, which were placed inside the Ark of the Covenant—a focus I highlight frequently in my ministry. "Thy law is the TRUE LAW." (Psalms 119:142)

This "LORD" that tried to kill Moses is not the same "LORD" that sent him into Egypt. This "LORD" is the "FALSE LORD." The Man of SIN. Murder is SIN. He is the god instructing the murder of Jesus in Deuteronomy 13:1-5. So instead of saying God will send us to Hell, maybe we should consider: Satan will TAKE/SEIZE us to Hell. What Master do we follow?

To the Christian it may seem as though I am changing everything we know about the Bible, but it was not me, nor our generation that changed it. That began hundreds of years ago, and my ministry changes nothing about what it takes to live a Godly life. I am not taking away any of the morals or values that we should follow. I am simply showing you the deception that has lefts millions lost, suffering, alone and PUSHED AWAY from God by the churches because they don't believe their experience is real. Because of this these victims can't trust the church. NO ONE BELIEVES THEM.

But I must be clear: I blame SIN, that man of SIN, Satan, the Viper, I do not blame any human being. They simply DO NOT KNOW. The Christian’s hearts are in the right place. Yet, they believe in science. That old Egyptian science.

So what happened to Moses, if it was not the God, we believe we are looking to? It was a normal person, an average everyday Joe who met Moses at the inn. This man, DRIVEN by the spirit of SIN, who too is a god, (2 Corinthians 4:4) was provoked to violence and attempted to kill Moses in an effort to stop him. CONTROL. It's that simple. The offspring of the Viper. (John 8:37-4) My pastor once told me; the simplest answer is usually the correct answer. I find that to be true as well.

The Illusion of Mind Control:

As I have previously shown you in Genesis 22 when Abraham was instructed by GOD/SIN to sacrifice Isaac in the land of vision, it was later altered the region of Moriah. Satan's ploy to disrupt the TRUTH of mental health. And it worked!

It's not by coincidence the Illuminati members who are believed to be using mind control have a group called "Illuminati Moriah Luciferian Elite." The problem is that those who believe in this are the ones who suffer. And the TRUTH is that no human is using mind control on them. That's just nonsense, we are not GODS!

However, these victims know their experience is real. Believe me, I too have experienced it. I know what it's like, and without the support from the church, they are forced to place blame elsewhere. They know it's real, SOMONE IS DOING THIS TO THEM. They are searching for answers. SOMEONE IS TO BLAME. And they are right, SOMEONE IS TO BLAME, but it's not HUMAN. Are you spiritually minded or not? I cannot serve milk at this table. (1 Corinthians 3:2)

This mode of action ultimately harms our government systems, with the belief of Targeted Individuals, electronic harassment and more. Stage 2 of Satan plan: tear down the government so that AI can rise in it's place.

If you think I'm crazy, I advise you to check the links I ALWAYS provide you in my work. Do your homework. They are how I substantiate my case. Millions are suffering it's time for you to take your blinders off. GOD IS RELIYING ON US TO AID THEM APPROPRIATELY. As Christians it's our duty to not be lazy and get them the TRUTH. A battle I feel as though I've been fighting alone for the last three years. Where is the LOVE commanded of us to give? LOVE FOR THE TRUTH? Wake up! (Matthew 22:36-38)

It is our duty to give these victims the answers and truth of their experience. The Illuminati are not human. THEY are the "many members" that make up the two Kingdoms, with Christ being the TRUE ILLUMINATI, because He is the light that lightens each man that comes into this world. (John 1:9)

I want to share with you the story of Andrew Magill. In 2017 Andrew murdered Mary-Ann Morehouse by decapitating her with an ax. On his body cam footage, he stated while pointing his finger to the heavens, "Somebody up there told me to do it. I knew it was the right thing to do, so I did it. Implying that God told him to murder Mary Ann. He also believed he was Jesus and that he had saved all the sins in the world buy the act of murder.

He also believed his father was God, a belief I shared briefly in relation to my pastor. He said, "What, dad your God?" I did the same thing. I asked, "What, Pat your God?" He also commented, "And then it came to me and it said, "The bible is a lie, the government is a lie, blah, blah, blah." - The tempter CAME TO JESUS AND SAID... (Matthew 4:3) The "word" of God came to the prophet ____ and said... This is a term scripture holds exclusive to prophets. In Andrews case the FALSE GOD, the Egyptians God, the Man of SIN, the Viper, the murderer from the beginning, (John 8:44) Satan, made Andrew into a FALSE PROPHET.

Jeremiah 23:21 I sent not the prophets, and they ran; I spake not to them, and they prophesied. WYC 1382

When speaking to my friend about what the spirit tried to have me do to his brother, wanting me to put a bullet in his sleeping head, I began to cry. I was not crying for my own personal experience but rather my sympathy goes out to both Andrew and Ashley. That could have been me.

I often wonder, how was I able to beat it? Why did I not succumb to murder when others have. I know Jesus too made it out safely as I did but I can still remember how incredibly supernatural it all was. How many others are out there? No one could help me.

In Andrews bodycam footage, his honesty tells me, he was searching for help. He admitted to the murder before they had even found Mary-Ann's body or even knew a murder had taken place. The narrator does his job, which is to make Andrew out to be a monster, but I see through all of that. I see a man on his knees begging cars passing by for help. I see a man hold his hands up, a statement of no threat, to the police. I see a man, whose family taught him to show respect when he shook the cops hand. This man is not a monster.

Thise who have succumbed to the mind control of SIN, will spend the rest of their lives in prison having to live with the murders they committed, never knowing the TRUTH of what happened to them. Had Andrew known, he would not have committed that murder. I saw Suzanne Barron on that bodycam footage. And for that I reached out to Andrew and spoke to him personally over the phone and corresponded with him through the mail. Ashley, I have not. How many others are out there?

How many people have taken their own lives wanting to live but could not find adequate support? No one is teaching what I am teaching. How many more die each day? How do I reach them all? Why am I not receiving the support needed to reach them from the public? Why aren't people sharing my post so that I can reach them? What more can I do? Who else can I reach? What's my next mode of action? This ministry and everything about it has BECOME ME! No human has taught me any of the things I am speaking out into the world. Christ healed me, and I still hear his voice. THE AUDIBLE WORD OF GOD.

It is because we are PROPHETS, that SIN attacks us and DRIVES us to drug use. So that the drugs can be to blame. The man in Mark 5 may have been addicted, but the pigs were not. Neither was the boy in Mattew 17. Was Jesus?

Who are the ones to hear voices? Those who take the pharmakeia, whether through street drugs or pharmaceuticals. And it is in that MERCHANT that the blood of the prophets is found.

Revelation 18:23-24 and the light of [the] lantern shall no more shine in thee, and the voice of the husband and of the wife shall no more be heard in thee; for thy merchants were princes of the earth. For in thy witchcrafts all folks erred. And the blood of prophets and of saints is found in it, and of all men that be slain in earth WYC 1382

Jesus, Paul, and the Path to Redemption:

Our Christian society, including those in the time of the bible did not have a full understanding of SIN. Paul however did. Paul clearly described SIN as a controlling force in his life. He knew that his SIN was not of him, and that it was a completely separate entity of his own. That THORN in his flesh. (2 Corinthians 12:7-9) The SIN living in him doing things that he did not want to do. (Romans 7:15-20) A DRIVING FORCE. (Luke 8:29)

See, Paul too was a prophet, and he could speak to the Holy Spirit. The spirit of prophecy, (Revelation 19:10) the audible "WORD" of Christ. (2 Corinthians 13:3) "THE SAME" voice I hear. The voice taken away by pharmakeia. He also dealt with the chatter of demons, as Andrew, Ashley and I have, the angle of Satan that harassed him, as it does to millions of others in our world today. Who is teaching this in the world? This demon was SIN and that is why grace was sufficient enough for his THORN. (2 Corinthians 12:7-9)

Now let's talk about Jesus' SIN. I know the Christian reading this has been waiting for me to get to this point since Part One, but I had to reveal the Man of SIN in Jesus life first or you would say I was blasphemous. Why did He go through psychosis at all? Why did Jeus become lunatic for a short time in His life? SIN.

Now you see, any drug addict knows this: The best substance abuse counselors are those who have had experience in their own personal lives with some form of addiction. Even general guidelines know this. Technically a felon cannot become a psychologist, however the rule is bent for those who want to become substance abuse counselors.

Sure, there are limits to what they are allowed to do, and a specific period of time must pass since their last crime before they can start, but the rule was bent, because they make better counselors in the field then those who have only learned from textbook material. As an addict you understand things better, while the textbook man is always going to look at the science behind it first. The addict sees the truth that has nothing to do with science. They see the control; they know the control.

If it was easy enough to describe, the textbook man would understand it. As, it stands, addiction is considered a disease of its own. So, if it's considered a disease, why does the Christian society look at it like it's the choice of the sinner. Diabetes is a disease, does the diabetic person have a choice whether they are diabetic or not? No? I don't believe they do.

Romans 7:15-17 For I understand not that that I work; for I do not the good thing that I will, but I do that evil thing that I hate. And if I do that thing that I will not, I consent to the law, that it is good. But now I work not it now, but the sin that dwelleth in me. WYC 1382

In order to fully understand something, you have to have some sort of experience in it. As a recovering addict myself, I would not want that textbook man trying to help me, because he could never understand me. See Jesus, came from a hard life, He was what I would call a "street thug" of His generation. He was a homeless man, He slept outside and was always on the move. He lived a life that gave Him insights that those who hadn't experienced similar circumstances could not fully understand. For this reason, in order for Jesus to see SIN for who he was, causing Him to call him out the same way I am, "THAT VIPER", He would have had to have some form of SIN in His life. How else could He have seen the VIPER? How else could He have seen the bite? With His eye of understanding?

If He did it would be in scripture right? You would say, "There is not one verse in scripture that describes Jesus with SIN." I would then argue that you are wrong. The problem is, it's not really OUR GERERATIONS FAULT. The reason we have missed it, is because the BIBLE HAS CHANGED, and it was not our generation that changed it. However, just because we are not the ones who alerted them, does not mean we are not responsible for getting the truth.

The story of Jesus' SIN is found in Luke 2. It's the story of when Jesus was a 12-year-old boy. If you are a Christian, you already know where I am going with this, and if we were speaking in person, you would be ready with your defense. Ready to defend your Messiah. Believe me, I get it, I do understand. I too defended Jesus against what Christ showed me. Your defense would be that the type of grace Luke 2:40, 51 & 52 are describing is favor, defined as a special relationship with God. You are wrong!

Grace is listed approximately 137 times throughout the bible. And each time it is mentioned, it refers to unmerited favor, defined as undeserved favor, something that the spirit gives to selected sinners in the world. Those who are His. Where His grace is sufficient enough to cover the SIN we have. Of course, we cannot intentionally continue on in SIN and expect to receive it.

Romand 6:1 Therefore what shall we say? Shall we dwell in sin, that grace be plenteous? WCY 1382

My research has found that the Christian society believes that the Bibles unmerited favor type of grace is listed 135 times while the other 2 that is listed in Luke 2:40, 51 & 52 is not unmerited favor type of grace but rather favor with God. Now why is that?

You see, in this story, Jesus as a 12-year-old boy has left Mary and Joseph scared out of their minds. Not only that but the walk from Nazareth to Jerusalem takes 3-5 days one way. They had already walked 6 days minimum: 3 home and 3 back just to find him. And 3 more days searching the city. Then they will have to walk 3 more days to get home again. Any mother or father would be extremely upset about this. Wouldn't you? Of course you would! (Luke 2:40-52)

Not only that but ounce they found him, he was rude to them stating, "Didn't you know I have to be about my father's business?" I've heard sermons on this passage with all sorts of excuses. However, Luke 2:51 informs us that once they had returned home to Nazareth, Jesus was subject to his parents. The boy was punished and disciplined for doing something He should not have done.

Now before I prove this, I want you to take Jesus' name out of this story and place the name Bob there. Bob SINNED didn't he? Bob left his parents in a fright, worried to death about him. Bob was rude and disrespectful, wasn't he? Yes, Bob most certainly was. What about Jesus? Was He? Yes, He was.

You see Jesus was not God. There is no way Jesus could have been God, with the spirit of Christ in Him. Because Christ is the true light that lighten each man that comes into this world. (John 1:9) Jesus had "THE SAME" spirit the prophets of old had. (1 Peter 1:11) He also had "THE SAME" spirit that John the Baptist had. (John 1:7) While the name "THE SAME" has been removed from our newer text.

John the Baptist would have fit the bill for what you see in a Messiah. He ate clean food, (Matthew 3:4), not taken to any fermented wine. (Luke 1:15) His parents kept the law of the Levites perfectly. (Luke 1:5-6) He was without corruption. He came in the SPIRIT and POWER of Elijah. (Luke 1:17) And those who were alive in that generation too believed he was the Messiah, but he clearly told them he wasn't. (Luke 3:15-16)

But let's back up, John 1 says that "THE SAME" came as a witness to testify to the "TRUE LIGHT." "THE SAME" is the "TRUE LIGHT." A staging process for our understanding. Christians, you already know this. John and Jesus had "THE SAME SPIRIT." This implies since John came in the SPIRIT and POWER of Elijh, Jesus did too, A Levite that performed miracles. I'll refrain from speaking on whether Jesus was born from a virgin or not. But I will ask, if Jesus was born from a virgin, how did He have "THE SAME" spirit as John, who was born of natural conception? (SATAN SPEAKS IN SCRIPTURE TOO, REMEMBER?)

I know the Bible does not exclusively say that either Jesus or Elijah were Levites. However, I can confirm that Jesus was a Levite through Mary. The Levites were selected to be the ones to minister to the Lord forever. (1 Chronicles 15:2) They are the ones with the spiritual gifts, the minority of people who could hear and speak to the audible word. HE WHO HAS EARS TO HEAR LET HIM HEAR. (Mark 4:9) Elijah was a Levite somehow, I know it because God spoke to him. Levites could tend to the Ark, no one else could. Subliminal message, learn HIS LANGUAGE!

Why was John born 6 months before Jesus? (Luke 1:36) It was done intentional, of course, we know this part. But why was John set to lead the way for Him? So that we could see the truth of how to find salvation. To turn form your SIN, LOOK TO JESUS, those demonic spirits that live in us causing us LEVITES to have psychosis. Jesus had to live a life of SIN in order for SIN to attack Him as he did.

Now, I prove it:

Luke 2:40 And the child grew and became strong; he was filled with wisdom, and the grace of God was on him. NIV 2011

This translation gives you the impression that God's grace was on Jesus. But grace comes from the spirit within us, because that is where Christ is. That breath of life, the light the lightens all men as they come into this world. (John 1:9) So grace being in Jesus would seem more fitting.

Luke 2:40 And the child waxed, and was comforted, full of wisdom; and the grace of God was in him. WCY 1382

Luke 2:51-52 Then he went down to Nazareth with them and was obedient to them. But his mother treasured all these things in her heart. And Jesus grew in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man. NIV 2011

Luke 2:51-52 And he came down with them, and came to Nazareth, and was subject to them. And his mother kept together all these words, bearing together in her heart. And Jesus profited in wisdom, age, and grace, with God and men. WYC 1382

Let's define the differences between the two translations:

Treasured: To hold something dear, to value it highly, or to cherish it.

Bearing together: enduring and coping with multiple burdens, challenges, or negative emotions.

Grew in grace: To develop, mature, or increase in spiritual strength and virtues over time

Profited in grace: To gain benefit or advantage from grace, often implying a tangible or noticeable improvement.

If I am not mistaken, you would profit from grace, wouldn't you? Yes, you would, so would I. A profit, from receiving favor you do not deserve. Not only that, but Christ knew Satan's finger would change these words, that's why Christ's language is fully understood in the subliminal messages He uses. The tabernacle, the veil, the Ark, the two cherubim on the Ark, two in Jesus' tomb, the medical staff, Noah and the flood to wash away the SINS, Naman and the Jordan River and so much more.

Words can be changed but stories cannot be removed. And Christ made sure to sandwich this story in between two verses telling us that Jesus received grace, which is something the spirit gives to sinners that are His chosen ones. He did this so that you would PAY ATTENTION.

Jesus did in fact have SIN in His life. He came eating and drinking, (Matthew 11:19) while John the Baptist did not. Where He did not have SIN, was after the wilderness, when He beat His psychosis episode and the tabernacle of His flesh that Christ dwelled in was completely swept clean. Just like the man in Mark 5. No spirit of SIN in Him, that is why we see the angles come and minster to Him. The "many members" to that make up the body of Christ, giving Christ the ability to fully possess Jesus and that is why we saw Jesus as GODS FINGER. (Luke 11:20)

The main purpose of revealing this is to not make Jesus out to be a bad guy, a lunatic, or even one who fell into SIN. The purpose is to understand that He had to fall to understand who SIN was in order to lead us in the right direction. It was not His choice; it was written in His life to be that way, this much I firmly believe. As, the blood atoned for the SINS of those in the Old Testament, Jesus came and brought something NEW, He died once for all SINS, and that worked for His age of time. A NEW AGE IS HERE. (Matthew 12:32)

I am not taking that away from Him what we already know about forgiveness of SINS. That was the spiritual message Christ used for those who could understand it. Now it is time for the New Work Order, we are the age that would come. And there is something NEW that I am to bring to the table. It Technically changes nothing in the mode of how to live a Godly life, only it brings those out of the darkness, those lost with no knowledge of what to do with their spiritual gifts. ELECT MEMBERS.

Why has Satan done all of this? The answer falls down the line to AI, and robotics. All found within the MIND. CONSIOUS AI. We are on the verge of extinction. Christ lives in all breathing life. If that murderer kills is, he kills Christ. Thats why Jesus had to die. So that we would see SIN murder GOD. We must SAVE CHRIST, stop the beast that is AI and her vast army of robots, and worship in TRUTH and SPIRIT,

Jesus' purpose was to die so that we could subliminally witness SIN murder God. This concept falls into my ministry theme of the Ark being captured and the miracle we have of Ai and humanoid robots. You have to understand, Satan chose this time of now, to do this because he is betting on himself, that he has set the stage so well, for you not to see it,

Revelation 3:1-3 “To the angel of the church in Sardis write: These are the words of him who holds the seven spirits of God and the seven stars. I know your deeds; you have a reputation of being alive, but you are dead. Wake up! Strengthen what remains and is about to die, for I have found your deeds unfinished in the sight of my God. Remember, therefore, what you have received and heard; hold it fast, and repent. But if you do not wake up, I will come like a thief, and you will not know at what time I will come to you.

This will be the robots. The thief is the Man of SIN. This is similar to how He told Moses "I" will harden heart. "I," being God, yet also SIN is the one who hardened Pharoh's heart. (Exodus 9:34) "I", the Man of SIN, GOD hardened the heart. "I", SIN, GOD will come like a thief. ROBOTS!

Jesus leading the way was to help those who are suffering to know and understand that even the Savior Himself had a hard life and that His experiences are ones that they can relate to. This is my story, and I'm sharing it to let you know you are not alone. This is your journey. This is your path to redemption. It's not an easy road, but it's one worth taking, and together we can make it through.

0 notes

meowzfordayz · 2 years

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Hi, uhmm, could I maybe request either a fic or HC about Kyojuro being protective over a fem reader? Like maybe she's in the corps but her trainer is being too harsh on her or he protects her from a demon? I'm feeling pretty vunerable right now emotionally, your writing is amazing and the thought of Kyojuro being protective just makes me feel a lot better.

Heyo lovely. 🥺 Tyvm for trusting me and my writing to fulfill your request — I hope this provides at least a sliver of comfort. 💗 Sending you quiet sunsets and blooming tulips vibes. 🌅🌷

Author’s Note: if this doesn’t show up in tags, then- 😡😭🤞🏽

pinky promise

Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader

Word Count: ~1,400

CW: canonical violence

~faqs~

Pinky

Kyojuro is a relatively private man. Not, necessarily, of conscious design: he simply, naturally, operates on a need-to-know basis. He doesn’t pry, badger, or impulsively butt in on the affairs of others. Doesn’t usually question, let alone doubt, the logic or motive behind that which he isn’t explicitly involved in. Whether due to his upbringing or his rank as a Hashira—which, if he’s being honest with himself, then it’s certainly due to both—he dutifully follows the command and will of his superiors. Namely, of course, Oyakata-sama, and his father to an extent when he so chooses to visit home — to visit Senjuro. Admittedly, he doesn’t have many superiors: an almost amusing thought to ponder when he can’t fall asleep at night—Rengoku Kyojuro, Flame Hashira, at the top of the Demon Slayer Corps—because Kyojuro is humble at best, and, at worst, surprisingly unaware of his capability and charisma. While slaying demons requires a high degree of adaptability, he is, at his core, a man of routine and direction. An amalgam of discipline, ambition, and integrity.

Honor.

Deference.

Responsibility.

“[y/n]!” he exclaims, startling your hurriedly moving figure.

“Rengoku-sama! I didn’t- My apologies- Uh- I’m in a rush!”

“Of course,” he waves sheepishly, “Do not let me interrupt! I am glad you are well.”

You nod, stalling for a moment, “What brings you to the Butterfly Mansion? You seem physically sound.”

He smiles unabashed, pleased by your observation, “I am alright! I am merely passing through.”

“Oh,” you swallow a disappointed noise Duh.

Oh? newfound curiosity flits across his expression, “Were you hoping to enjoy my company for longer?”

“That’s very forward of you,” you retort briskly, eyes narrowing in a poor attempt to hide your fluster.

Kyojuro’s confident chuckle warms your ears as his smile widens, “You aspire to become a Hashira, correct? I am always eager to familiarize myself with potential colleagues!”

Just in case he encounters a situation where he has to fight demons with you: the better he knows you, the easier—the more effective—collaboration during battle will be. Not because he’s already memorized the color of your eyes despite only meeting you twice. His intuition rarely leads him astray, is all, and when it comes to you — his intuition wants to burrow cozily and securely into your radiating sincerity.

“I’m pretty sure everyone aspires to become a Hashira,” you mutter.

“You are mistaken. Many slayers do not have the desire or courage to achieve such a rank! You are special.”

“Who’s special?” a third voice sneers.

Kyojuro wishes he’d imagined your slight wince, but the abrupt, involuntary fog glazing over your eyes tells him otherwise.

“Rengoku-sama,” a shrewd man bows stiffly before him, “I pray you were not inappropriately entertaining the dreams of my apprentice?”

And why would doing so be inappropriate? is what Kyojuro intends to remark — a swift and stern utterance to rebuke this strange, belittling man. But years of habit and instinct restrain his seething judgment. Instead, he firmly reminds himself that You do not know or understand their relationship, sparing you a faintly apologetic glance.

“I was sharing a casual greeting, sir. I would not dare interfere between a sensei’s teaching and their apprentice’s learning.”

If he’d turned a shade slower, then he would’ve seen the sharpness in your stare. The disappointment curling your fingers; the loss of respect tightening your throat. But he turns quickly, uneasily, oblivious to your plight. At least — that’s how his reaction feels to you. You have no way of knowing that, even though he doesn’t see it, he absolutely senses it: senses the edge of your frustration, the cruelty of your so called sensei. You have no way of knowing that, as Kyojuro stalks away, shame settles heavy and foreboding in his gut.

Promise

“... did what?”

“Rengoku-san, please … wait …”

“Don’t … where … Kocho-san”

“It’s none … you can’t …”

And then you hear him enter the ward.

“[y/n]?”

You’re too battered and weary to flinch, but your heart twinges nonetheless.

“[y/n]. I-”

He’s standing at the end of your cot—that much you can discern—as you refuse to open your eyes. Let him assume I’m asleep you scoff inwardly.

“I had no idea,” the remorse in his tone catches you off guard, “I should have said something.”

That holds your attention—in an anger inducing manner—your eyes flashing open.

“You should-”

As determined as you are to insult Kyojuro’s behavior, you find yourself choking at the sight of him frazzled. Fatigue tempers his typically bright gaze, eyebrows pinched worriedly; nose flared, chin scrunched; fiery hair messily tied back, stray tendrils framing his taut cheekbones in concerning disarray.

“I should have defended you,” he murmurs, uncharacteristically quiet, “That man—your sensei—felt… vile, yet I ran from his challenge.”

Kyojuro hardly ever despises himself. He’s resilient. Independent. Mature. And I failed to protect you. Who else can he blame for your puffy eyes — swollen from exhaustion? Who else can he blame for your bruised and bedridden body? Pushed beyond its limit. Forced on a perilous mission—far above your current ability—without any chance to recover from that man’s brutal, sadistic training. Preparing inexperienced, lower rank slayers for the relentless onslaught of pain, violence, and injury is an important and inevitable aspect of, well, being a slayer. But not like this Kyojuro’s jaw clenches You should not be here.

“I am responsible for you, and I-” he exhales raggedly, gripping unforgivingly at his haori, “I failed to protect you.”

Of course, he feels responsible for anyone below the Hashira rank. Slayers and civilians alike. Not, out of arrogance, but of duty and morality. And you? Well. He doesn’t detour to check on just anybody at the Butterfly Mansion. You watch him carefully, silently, stiffening as someone appears in the doorway.

Kyojuro notices the shift in your demeanor — especially as that presences seeps into the surrounding air. Harsh goosebumps raise along his flexed arms, albeit invisible under his unmistakable Flame Hashira haori, a cacophony of righteous rage bubbling in his chest.

“Rengoku-sama,” slurs that cold, slimy voice, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I, Rengoku Kyojuro, Flame Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps, strip you of your position and affiliation. You will never deserve the title of sensei. You are the utter disdain and opposite of sensei.”

Can he actually do that? is your immediate thought. He really does regret his previous inaction is your second. How will Sensei that man react? is your third thought, How will I progress without guidance? soon following.

“You do not have that authority.”

But he has intimidation. And connections. And uncanny finality that, with or without authority, his word is enough to ensure the reality of his declaration.

“And you do not have an apprentice. Not now. Not ever. Understood?”

Comprehension dawns, smirk morphing to an indignant, blustering facade of innocence and protest.

“You can’t do that?”

Kyojuro smiles coolly, “I can. I promise you. I can.”

The tension snaps. With a warning hand resting on his hilt, he strides toward the shriveling man. Unhinged. Gleaming. Dangerous. He won’t unsheath his katana—he isn’t that rash—but the pathetic man doesn’t know this.

“You should go,” he practically hisses.

The humiliated man swivels extravagantly, exiting the ward with a feeble flourish of his kimono, hardly disturbing the dominant, blazing aura rapidly devouring the lingering remnants of his presence.

You’re stunned by Kyojuro’s blatant exercise of power, frankly shocked by how smoothly he slipped into the roles of judge, jury, and executioner. But his next role unravels you. Unravels you as his fury dissipates, soft anxiety taking its place. As he gauges your emotional and mental state, removing his haori in a single motion, draping it across your lap. Is he blushing? Blinking unsteadily, nervously—repetitively—interlocking, separating, and interlocking his fingers.

“I apologize for depriving you of a sensei,” Kyojuro hesitates, heart in his throat, “I would be honored to fill the void I so untimely created.”

“But I don’t use Flame Breathing?” you squeak, fixated on the comforting, unexpectedly gentle scent emanating from his haori.

“I am optimistic that we can overcome that logistic!”

“You pity me,” you whisper, mindlessly tracing the flame pattern covering your legs.

“I admire you!” he’s resolute, “And I am responsible for my missteps. You would be doing me a favor, allowing me to amend my prior neglect.”

The tiniest of smiles tugs at your mouth.

“Okay,” you shrug, teasing mirth crinkling the corners of your eyes, “I suppose I’ll allow it.”

#kyojuro rengoku #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro x reader #rengoku x reader #flame hashira #one shot #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #emergency request

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technowoah · 3 years

Note

Hi! This is my first time doing a request for a prompt list but can you do prompts 1,34,25 if you can put those in one fanfic, or mini series. Again this is my first time requesting a prompt list thing. If you can’t fit those three in there you can just do 1 of them. If anything I wrote just made sense, sorry if it didn’t. Have a good day!

Rather Be Devisive Then Indecisive...

Thanks for the request! I decided to do Techno cause I need some Techno content here!

Sorry it took so long 😭

C! Techno x gen neutral! Reader (platonic)

1) "I fucking hate you" "please dont say that"

34) "one more chance please?" "You're being greedy"

25) "You're right. You are useless"

⚠︎ swearing, indecisive reader, angst, angst, mentions of weapons, mentions of death, mentions of tnt & explosions, Wilbur's last canon life, sad techno, I didn't proofread, this story is so fucking long-

"Dont you see history repeating itself?!"

You found yourself in a huge predicament right now while standing by Technoblade's side, adorned in netherite armor and weapons. You were facing against the people you used once to love, the people you eere supposed to kill. You hadn't seen Tommy's face so distraught in quite some time.

Everyone thought you were the traitor, you lost the trust of the people you once sided with and loved. You couldnt stand to see the pain Tommy had in his eyes and the betrayal Tubbo showed. It wasn't true, from what you heard it wasn't true.

You didn't just appear on Technoblade's side one day, it was a tough ride to follow. The beginning of your journey had you looking desperately for a place to be, a home. You were lost in the huge kingdom with huge monuments and different types of people.

Then came L'Manburg. A place where you could be free, at least they sold it like that. You had met Tommy and Tubbo while on the Prime Path and immediately asked about their blue war coats and they immediately introduced you to L'Manburg. You were accepted a while later, meeting the citizens and making connections with all of them.

Then came Manburg and Pogtopia which led you here next to Technoblade as he went on about replacing tyrant with another. You were always on Technoblade's side ever since he joined Pogtopia. All it took was constant literature sessions and talks about politics and you were on board with his ideals and his hate for government.

You were apart of L'Manburg before Pogtopia and Technoblade had changed your mind on government he made you see everything through a different lense and that lense was beautiful and clear. You adapted his ways of thinking quickly and became "one of his personal favorites" as he would say.

Technoblade set off a firework explosion and everyone screamed and scattered, that was the "go" you ended up attacking somone else that wasn't a close friend of yours. You were trying not to attack anyone, this wasnt your style. Yes, Techno had taught you fighting styles and how to become stronger but you didn't want to fight who you considered your family.

You eventually found yourself on a hill looking over the explosions and swords swinging in the gleaming sun. People below were looking in your direction quickly then heading back into battle wondering why there werent any fireworks hot from above, but you couldnt do it. You just couldn't bring yourself to soot the crossbow that was hanging on your hip. Techno kept looking up towards you as you looked back towards him in distraught.

Everyone was yelling until Dream had spoken up.

"You know who the trader was Tommy? Tommy the traitor was Wilbur."

No it couldn't be.

"No! Technoblade killed Tubbo and Y/N left us behind, they're the traitors!" Tommy exclaimed in confusion.

Your mind couldn't make up anything at the moment, was Wilbur the real traitor instead of everyone thinking it was you? Everyone was questioning if Dream was right or not, but you were so into your own mind you didn't hear that one faint scream that lead to many others.

The ground started shaking like a earthquake was about to happen and then the ground started to break apart and explode revealing the huge amounts of TNT that was placed under the stone and dirt. You felt uneasy as smoke, and debris flew from the ground and up into the air. You heard screams of agony who were caugh in the explosion, screams of anguish who witnessed the explosion and screams of joy.

Emotions flew through you like blood. This wasnt what was supposed to happen was is? You were a citezen of L'Manburg before a citizen of Pogtopia and this was the worst thing you have ever seen. The sky turned dark and grey, the place you used to call home is gone and the person who destroyed your home was the one who built it.

"Wilbur?!" You screamed as you saw him and Philza staning next to what looked like a man made cave in the hill.

Everyone else followed your line of sight and saw Wilbur standing next to Philza talking to him. Philza had a sword in his hand and what is seemed like arguing with Wilbur as well. Everything seemed so chaotic you didnt know what to focus on, Wilbur and Philza, Dream inevitably sneaking away, or Technoblade's glare at you from a top a building. You couldn't bring yourself to face Techno right now. Technoblade was a source of comfort for you, but at this moment you had no where to turn.

The straw that broke the camel's back was seeing Philza kill Wilbur. He pierced the sword through his heart and as Wilbur's legs couldn't hold himself up anymore Philza hugged his son and fell down to the ground with him hugging him in his last moments as everyone below screamed at Philza.

Your vision became blurry as tears welled up in your eyes. Everything was gone. You had nothing left to go back, no home, no Wilbur. It seemed like Tommy and Tubbo didn't want you back in their lives so it seemed hopeless. Falling to your knees you cradled your face in your hand trying to block out all of the commotion outside.

L'Manburg was like a home you always wanted but never had. They were like family and you grew too attached. You loved them like brothers and a sister. You loved them you grew attached to them as well, especially to Wilbur because you looked up to him as a leader and he took you under his wing when you had no where to go, he cared for you like a big brother. Tommy and Tubbo were also another two you grew too attached to because of Tommy's impulsiveness and Tubbo's attention to detail and caring for others.

After the fall of L'Manburg Technoblade had to make everything worse.

He had looked towards you one last time before getting into position.

"Are you just gonna sit there!? We have a job to do!" Techno said while unsheathing a sword.

"Isn't the job done already?!" You yelled back still sat on the hill.

Techno started to laugh. "Barely!"

He jumped down from the building and into some rubble underneath him and you followed him down the hill. Techno had brung out soul sand and began placing it on the ground with wither skeleton skulls in his hands. You walked over to him and he handed you a skeleton skull, you reluctantly took it out of his hands and you saw him smirk at your compliance.

Tommy began walking towards Techno and you in a fiery rage ready to fight him. He couldn't get straight to him because of a small gap the explosion made. Tommy was trying to keep everyone on that side, safe. Dream and Punz jumped over the gap and joined both you and Techno by the soul sand.

"Stop this right now Techno!"

"You stay over there Tommy!"

The two bickered back and forth until they eventually died down and Technoblade spoke up over the talking and yelling coming from the side Tommy was on.

"Tommy, do you think you're a hero? Is that what this is?" Techno said while letting his guard down for a moment and put his crossbow down.

"I just- I just wanted L'Manburg!" Tommy exclaimed back clearly confused.

You werent a stranger to Technoblade's speeches you were a fan of them really, but not when its against someone you would consider a brother.

Technoblade spoke up over Tommy. "You wanted power.

"I wanted L'Manburg, thats all I ever wanted. I wanted..." Tommy stopped talking for a moment, like he was thinking.

"Tommy you just did a coup! You just did a hostile government takeover and then immediately instilled yourself as president." Techno explained to him in a more serious voice than before.

"And then you gave it to your friend, but that still a tyrant Tommy!"

"But the thing about his world Tommy, is that good things dont happen to heros. Let me tell you a story Tommy. A story of a man called Theseus."

Technoblade had taught you about Greek literature and how they could be compared to people in the kingdom today. He so happened to find correlations between Tommy and Theseus at this moment.

You were still anxiously waiting for Technoblade's long speech to end so you could get this heartbreak over with. The need to cry more never became more apparent until now, the need ro run away and never come back but you wanted to listen.

"His country was endagered and he sent himself forward into enemie lines, he slayed the minotaur and saved his city. You know what they did to him Tommy?!"

"What did they do-"

"They exiled him. He died in disgrace, despised by his people. Thats what happens to heros Tommy." Techno finished his Greek mythology speech.

Tubbo spoke up from behind Tommy. "But he saved everyone!"

"The Greeks knew the score, but if you want to be a hero Tommy that's fine." Technoblade started walking backwards with a wither skulls in each hand.

You had soul sand infront of you and you were waiting till Technoblade set the first wither out into the world. There were wither skulls in the brown grass so you all could quickly put the skulls ontop if the sand. Technoblade thought it was a good idea to have multiple withers flying in L'Manburg at once. You and Techno were probably going to get attacked by the withers too because withers dont know who made them, they just attack.

"Technoblade dont do this! We're so close! Im not the hero! No one's the hero!" Tommy pleaded and that made your heart drop.

"You want to be a hero Tommy?! THEN DIE LIKE ONE!"

There it is. Techno started placing the skeleton heads on the soul sand and you followed suit placing three skulls onto the other. The two withers started to form and grow besides you and Technoblade. You didnt want to do this at all. You could hear the screams from the former Pogtopia and L'Manburg citizens, this wasnt what you wanted. You didn't want Wilbur to die, you didn't want L'Manburg to go, and of course you didnt want your family to die.

Technoblade grabbed your hand and led you to a higher plane, both of you dodging the blows the withers were giving out to anyone in their way. You had made it a top of the building Technoblade was before. You felt like your lungs had no air in them, from the running and and seeing Tommy desperately trying to fight a wither above him, Tubbo shooting arrows next to Quackity and the withers making Wilbur's explosion bigger than it was.

Technoblade started laughing at the destruction and the screams of the people below. You knew Technoblade was a dangerous man, he killed and did it for his own reasons that you didnt argue against. He had told you that he will tell you one day, but this wasnt that day. You didn't want to hear anything from him, you had lost everything.

"I fucking hate you." You breathed out in disbelief at the destruction below.

"Please dont say that." Techno rolled his eyes.

"You're not telling the truth-"

"MY LIFE IS GONE TECHNO! I- My home is gone! Wilbur is gone! Where do I go?!"

"Hou have me! What are you talking about? Did you just blindly follow me?! Newsflash I'm not Wilbur, Im not Schlatt! Im my own person that dosent associate with government so might as well destroy the government physically." Techno looked back out into the chaos.

"This cant be the way!"

"Do you have another plan?!"

"If I did it wouldn't have mattered." You said calming down, but still angry.

"Should've said something sooner." Techno said while walking away from the edge of the building and away from you.

"Again, it wouldn't have mattered." You said as a final statement before he walked away.

You didnt know where he was going nor did you care at this point. You retreated for now and found yourself back in Pogtopia. Going down into the decorated cave and reminiscing on times shared. The moments where Tommy was messing with Wilbur, when Tubbo immediately relaxed when he found himself around Pogtopia and he could be himself, when Techno and you had extremely deep talks in the potato farm.

You ended up going back to your home later that night trying to clear your mind and trying to know where to go next. The next morning your feet had a mind of its own that morning because you ended up at Tommy's house. You had knocked on his door and he swung it opened it with his widened eyes not expecting you to be there. He was bandaged up more than usual, he had scars on his hands and face too. It was a sad sight for you.

"Y/N?! What are you doing here!? I didn't-"

You cut Tommy off by hugging him and trying not to cry at the sight.

"Im so sorry Tommy." You said regretting everything.

"Im sorry I hurt you."

"Hey calm down. I forgive you, but it's gonna be hard ya know?" Tommy explained as you let him go sniffling.

"I understand, you shouldn't feel obligated to forgive me I know its going to be hard to help them grow even though I betrayed them." You slightly laughed and Tommy smiled.

You felt accomplished that day. You hung out with Tommy the whole day, then found Tubbo as well. They both accepted you but slowly but surely were going to forgive you. You hated that they were in pain but they knew you were in pain as well. Later that day you sat down with the both of them and wrote letters to everyone wanting to reconnect again. The two had said they would help deliver the letters while you delivered some too.

The day turned into night and you and Tubbo were currently walking around doing nothing in particular. Tommy had headed home as you promised to visit him tomorrow. You and Tubbo both ended up on the topic of Phil. Silence fell upon you two, you didn't know what to say about that. You didn't know Phil that well, but he seemed regretful. Wilbur's death became a touchy subject between you two. Tubbo then asked you about Technoblade and you had no answer to that either.

Technoblade left without telling you anything at first you didnt care, but now you are slightly regretting having that stupid fight. Days continued to go on and your regret became more apparent each and every day. You had reconnected with former L'Manburg members and asked for forgiveness. It was a slow process but you all became closer in due time.

Technoblade and your relationship grew further apart and you noticed that. You never seen him since the final day of L'Manburg until one day.

You had visited the abandoned and long forgotton Pogtopia once more longing for the days before all Hell broke loose.

"What are you doing here?" You turned your head to see Technoblade standing not too far away from you.

"What are YOU doing here?! Where have you been?" You exclaimed not knowing whether to run to him or stand still.

"Well im used to being left alone. It's not that hard you should try it sometimes."

"Last thing I remember was you walking away."

"Last thing I remember was you yelling at me and telling me that you fucking hated me." Techno said matching your tone.

"I was in a bad place at that moment." You tried to justify your actions when in reality you couldn't.

"Weren't you all!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" You said getting defensive.

"I mean all of you L'Manburgians. You all were going through something. That something was the death of your leader and the inevitable death if your country. You apparently never let go of that side, L'Manburg is still with you somehow." Techno explained to you.

He always read you like an open book. You still never let go of L'Manburg and thats why you went back and left your and Technoblade's relationship behind. Yes that was your fault, but you can try and reconnect, try to build trust again.

"Can't I be with them and you at the same time?" You asked, while your confidence left your body.

"NO! WHAT?! Why would you say that?! Have you been listening to me?!"

"I have! You-"

"No you clearly fucking havent! They are feeding into the very thing they sought to destroy! History is repeating and you going back is only encouraging it! Soon enough the new "L'Manburg" will fall time and time again!" Technoblade yelled clearly fed up with the conversation.

"Technoblade. I wanted to make ammends with you! I wanted to be on your side again!" You pleaded.

"Apparently not because you keep runnning to L'Manburg!"

You were getting desperate, it felt like everything was lost again. Why did you have to chose between anti-government and pro-government. You didnt have to, you just needed your friendship that was torn apart glued back together. The need to rekindle the friendship between you and Technoblade began to exceed everything else and continued to cloud your mind.

"One more chance please?!"

"You're being greedy." Techno taunted.

"Techno listen! I-"

"I am listening." He interrupted you on purpose.

"Seriously I wanted to rekindle our friendship so please just let me do this!" You pleaded.

"That's not going to be happening anytime soon. You know Im usually the one being left, but now that I see you like this I now understand why people leave others." He laughed.

You stayed silent and that gave him the opportunity to speak more.

"Those that have treated me with kindness, I will repay that kindness tenfold. And those that treat me with injustice, that use me, that hunt me down, that hurt my friends. I shall pay that injustice a thousand times over."

Another speech he would use another time. Your gaze was set on the stone ground beneath you. You couldn't face him and you knew he was talking about you. You weren't going to get the happy ending you always dreamt of. You were always aware of falling out of friendships but you never knew that one of your falling friendships would hurt this badly.

"All that time ago, you're right, you were right. You are useless."

"I dont need you anymore." Technoblade continued and ascended up the stairs to leave. He left you alone down in Pogtopia, it was hard.

"I came here to get actual shit done, but it turns out I couldn't." You heard Technoblade mumble upstairs before you were for sure he left.

You were left in the once lively underground community of Pogtopia. It was quiet and still now with the only thing was a small cool whispering of the wind.

You had your family, slowly but surely it was coming together but now everything seemed more broken than ever. Unbeknownst to you everything would get worse.

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redstonedust · 2 years

Note

re: send me a character

tango

FIRST IMPRESSION:

i think my first impression of tango was probably from fics and fanart instead of actual episodes so i had this vague idea of him being some kind of loud confident ambigiously fire themed dude

IMPRESSION NOW:

bro that is a cartoon character <3 he would squeak when hit with a mallet. actually super kind! and very smart. has a lot of energy in the excitably bouncing way i think.

FAVORITE MOMENT:

this isnt a specific moment as such but i rlly enjoyed watching decked out maintenance? like just watching him go around restocking it and coming up with new ideas pleased my brain somehow. if u want a more specific moment then i love how unhinged the gemini slay segment was.

IDEA FOR A STORY:

i have a silly hermit backstory concept for zits? specifically impulse and skizz (childhood besties and basically adoptives brothers) running into tango in the nether as kids and them all just kind of spiderman pointing at eachother because running into another humanoid kid in the literal hellscape that the nether is is rare. bothering the local piglins. trying to fit multiple people on one strider. etc etc.

UNPOPULAR OPINION:

i think all my opinions on him are pretty normal i cant think of anything unpopular </3 maybe just that hes one of the most well produced video creators in the hermitcraft cast and i think he deserves infinitely more attention

FAVORITE RELATIONSHIP:

him and bdubs r so funny >>> i always want more of them

FAVORITE HEADCANON:

robot tango my beloved... i literally dont know where it came from outside of his redstone alignment but im a big fan of the idea of it? like this loud energetic guy being a robot is so fun. he's made of iron and redstone and blaze powder god bless.

#ask game #hermitcraft

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votederpycausemufins · 3 years

Text

College has stopped kicking my butt enough for me to post another chapter of the the Scattered au fic. this one is meant to be a parallel to last chapter, so you might want to reread that one.

scattered au is by @hermitcraftheadcanons and their community

reading tag list: still just @helleborusangel right now. Send an ask if you want to be added on.

Xisuma pulled himself out of the water, coughing a bit from what had gotten past his filter. He tried to look around only to squint at the light from the surface. He didn’t think he had swum that far up, but for all he knew, he was able to push himself that far to finally escape the warden. So when something suddenly attacked him and didn’t immediately kill him, Xisuma quickly fought back.

While initially swimming, he thought he had felt something though wasn’t sure, but this was much more clear. And slimelike, it seemed, since that’s what it felt like when he attacked it. But the following grunt of pain from the attacker sounded much more human like.

Xisuma did his best to focus on whatever was there, but he was seeing double. He looked back and forth, trying to tell if it was just from the intense lighting change or from there actually being two… things there. And it seemed it was the latter when the things looked at each other.

“Well, that’s probably not good.” The two things spoke in unison, which didn’t help the headache that Xisuma could feel coming on. Still, he was able to focus enough to get a good look at whatever was there and was a slime hybrid of sorts similar to Jevin, though instead of his very clearly blue slime, these two - one? They were more of a sea green. Plus from what Xisuma could guess, they were able to split like a regular slime, something Jevin couldn’t.

“Sorry.” Xisuma spoke up, it finally clicking in his mind that he had likely damaged them enough to make them split. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought you were attacking- I mean, maybe you were, but this does seem to be where you’re staying, so I guess I invaded your home a bit.”

“I guess. So, are you from around here?” The slime pair asked, making Xisuma shake his head. “Huh, neither am I… are we… This is the first time I’ve split so-”

Xisuma tilted his head a little. “I guess it is pretty safe here. Have you had any deaths so far?”

“I thought that was going to be my first.”

“So that would explain the lack of death messages as opposed to Gemini or Pearlescent. Do you know either of them?”

“No, sorry, not really.” The slime people answered. “Well, uh, there’s just enough here if you need basic tools, but not much else. I’ve got a pickaxe- crafting table.”

Xisuma looked between the two. “I think both would be nice. I spawned underground and had trouble with getting anything at all.” And before he could say more, the slime people were handing him those two items and a few more.

“You’re on your own for food though. Berries aren’t the most filling, so I’ve been eating them all up. They taste nice though.” And to prove their point, each of the slime people went after a berry, though they went after the same one and ended up fighting over it.

Xisuma nodded and went up to one of the walls. This would be much easier than getting the warden to do all his mining, seeing as how he would now be in control. He started to staircase out of the cave, placing what few torches he had until he found more coal. Technically he didn’t need to, but then something could spawn and head down and attack the slime pair. And Xisuma didn’t want to never return and just leave them there alone forever. So when he finally did get up to the surface, Xisuma went straight back down. “Are you sure you want to- er, what are you doing?”

The slime people looked back over to Xisuma and shrugged. “Trying to fuse back together or something. Why did you come back?”

Xisuma wasn’t sure exactly what happened, but the next thing he really knew, he was going back up towards the surface, his arms full from holding the slime pair, one cradled in each arm. Sure, they said they would be safe alone in the cave, but X couldn’t help the feeling that they wouldn’t be safe so far away. He was pretty sure it was just from his worry about everyone else, and this was just one person he could protect, but Xisuma couldn’t help but wonder if there was something else going on.

Hypno leaned against Etho, who was doing surprisingly well considering their current situation. Both of them were low on hunger, only managing to stay alive from what little they could get from the flowers and grass they picked and ate. Etho somehow managed to find a pig wandering around and killed it for some raw pork, handing it to Hypno to eat. They couldn’t cook it, but Etho was less worried about the hunger the meat would satiate and more about the fact that Hypno wasn’t fully himself.

After the initial shock of finding horns on Hypno’s head, the pair looked him over. Hypno made mention of an ache at the base of his spine, and Etho found a few concerning bumps on Hypno’s upper back. Until they actively looked into it, Hypno hadn’t noticed anything wrong, which led to them checking Etho, and also giving the ninja something to plan for on his next respawns.

Etho was glad they didn’t notice much with him, but with little to do, he explained to Hypno his encounters with Ren, Impulse and Grian. Out of the three, Impulse had seemed the most normal, only having red eyes instead of the golden brown he usually sported. Ren had seemed fine at first, but then in the attack from the creeper, the shifter had killed Etho, acting like an attacked wolf. And then Grian for the most part had been acting like a bird, though near the end…

A moobloom trotted over, pulling Etho out of his thoughts. It nuzzled against Hypno, who happily reciprocated. Still worried about the other hermit and the effects the environment was having on him, Etho forcefully separated the two, needing to attack the animal to make it flee.

“What was that for Etho? It was just being friendly.”

“Right now, we need to be cautious of everything. Especially those cows and all the flowers around here. Because in case you forgot, growing horns like that is not normal. Plus, we could use the food right now.”

Hypno huffed. “We’ll use up more energy trying to kill it than we would get from anything it drops. It’s better to let us willingly help us than-”

Etho suddenly held up a finger to shush Hypno, letting them listen to the breeze. “Do you hear that?”

Hypno listened, only hearing a few moos from the nearby moobloom. “The cows?”

“Well, okay yeah. But it’s more what I’m not hearing.” And then Etho pulled out his communicator. Hypno watched as Etho stared at the screen, mask moving ever so slightly as he mouthed counting up. But nothing was happening. At first, Hypno didn’t get what was so important until he pulled out his own communicator. No death messages were coming in. Specifically none from Impulse.

“Impulse got out.” Hypno said, whispering in disbelief. “Someone must have found him.”

Etho nodded. “Yeah, but the question is who.” And then almost immediately, it was answered.

Zedaph was slain by impulseSV

If there was one thing that was a benefit to respawning in the same place every time, it was the fact that no matter how many times Impulse died, the guardians wouldn’t disappear. Meaning that after a few attempts, he finally killed one of the monsters giving him grief. Just being able to slay one of them felt freeing with all the torment he was currently being put through, but that wasn’t the only benefit.

When the guardian died, it dropped two things, a prismarine shard and some cod. Impulse greedily grabbed at the items, stuffing the shard in his inventory and then stuffing the fish in his mouth. After not eating in so long, the fish seemed like the most heavenly food in the world, though Impulse had other ideas on why that was the case.

Here and there, guardians had completely ignored him. Sometimes he felt like he was getting a full breath of air even though he was still stuck in the water. He hadn’t missed the webbing between his fingers and toes growing each respawn nor the scales that appeared and itched like crazy. Half of Impulse would have preferred drowning forever instead of whatever this was, but his other half realized that it was likely his only way out.

Another respawn left him fumbling for his prismarine shard, using it to dig into the nearby blocks. Along with the claw-like nails he had gained, Impulse was able to break another block, making him smile at first, but then his expression dropped. With the way the temples were constructed, the walls weren’t that thick. Instead of gaining an air pocket, he had just broken into another chamber.

“Impulse.”

In anger, Impulse took the prismarine shard and used it against the next guardian he saw.

“Impulse.”

He started by using it like a knife and jamming it into the eye of the beast, making it flail and spread its spikes.

“Impulse.”

As the world around him seemed to fade into blues and golds, Impulse kept attacking, needing to get his anger out somehow.

“Impulse. Impulse. Impulse.” And then Impulse felt like he was falling, but he still thrashed around, trying to stop whatever it was. Then the next thing he knew, it was like gravity had increased drastically, leaving him pressed against the floor. Something moved and he attacked it, surprised to find it feeling much fluffier than the guardians had been. There was a sound, like someone talking, but why would anyone be talking with him stuck all alone. Etho maybe? Was he back?

As the creature died in his hands, Impulse looked towards the sound. The first thing he noticed was that Etho’s eyes were now both red. Even the sclera were red. He had also dyed his hair blond, and gotten rid of his mask, and well that wasn’t Etho at all. Impulse kicked his legs to try and swim closer, only to finally realize he wasn’t underwater anymore.

The moment Impulse realized he was out of the sea temple, he started taking gulps of air. His lungs had already started breathing it all, but now he was trying to get as much oxygen as he could before he drowned again. A part in the back of his mind told him he couldn’t drown right now, but his mental state wasn’t the best right now.

“Hey Impulse. Calming down now?” Tango was asking, and Impulse looked over, glad to see his friend. He nodded, which got Tango to smile before looking off towards the horizon. Impulse briefly followed Tango’s eyes before his hand moved and he felt the soft wool of the carpets beneath him. It almost felt overwhelming how different it was compared to the past week plus that he had been stuck in the temple. But it was also good, so he wrapped himself up before following Tango’s eyes once more.

“What’s that way?” Impulse spoke, voice feeling unfamiliar from disuse and possibly alterations that matched everything else going on with him.

“Zed. I’m hoping he’ll be able to find us again since I have made a bit of a path.”

Impulse tilted his head before noticing his inventory had many more items. “Did he get killed or something?”

“Yeah, you sort of killed him when we first summoned you in.” Tango explained, and Impulse felt horrified. Him? Kill Zedaph? For a prank or something, sure, that was believable, But this had been from pure bloodlust at the time.

“I killed him? Oh no! I didn’t know! It had been a guardian at first, and then I was falling, and then I was-”

“Hey, calm down.” Tango replied. He took a step toward Impulse, obviously to comfort him, but then Impulse was surprised to see his friend change their mind and step back again. “Zed and I figured something like this might happen. We would have made beds to set our spawn, but we haven’t been collecting wool that much, so at most we would have had just one piece.”

Impulse chucked a little after realizing there were no sheep around. “What? Did Zedaph finally grow his hair out enough?” And he expected Tango to laugh in return, but the frown that appeared didn’t bode well.

“Impulse, do you… realize what you look like?” Tango asked, and then Impulse looked down at his hand and flexed it.

“What’s happened with Zedaph?”

Tango took a few steps to the side and a moment later the nearby leaves of a tree caught fire. “Zed and I have had both of our more animal-esque traits acting up. I’m burning just about any flammable thing that gets close to me and his wool is growing out of control. There’s other stuff too but…”

“But even if you’re not ending up like me, you’re still dealing with your own things.”

“Hey! I’m back! And it looks like Impulse has not killed you!”

Hels cut down a hoglin that was in the way of he and Wels as they travelled the nether. Wels was reluctantly following, his copy being the only reason he was doing so well right now. Well that, and the fact that he was promising some sort of shelter. They went a bit further, and then Wels spotted something that was clearly man made, making him try to run forward for shelter before he was grabbed by Hels. “Don’t run ahead idiot. I just know that you’ll manage to die if you try that and we’ll have to start all over.”

“Well I’m sure I could find a way to survive fine on my own.”

“Sure you could.” Hels said, obviously sarcastic. “And your death messages make that so very believable. Tell me, have you noticed anything odd about your situation, other than being stuck in the nether.”

“Well, chat hasn’t been working right and I can’t regenerate my health.”

“Right… Well, what have you been eating?” Hels asked as they finally reached the door to the helsmit’s base, opening it to let Wels inside.

“Mainly crimson fungi or the rare pork if I can chip enough health away from a hoglin.” Wels answered, linking himself to the respawn anchor sitting inside.

“That fungi is only edible to hoglins you know.” Hels said, closing the door and then crossing his arms.

“Well obviously that’s not the case here.” And then Wels made his point by munching down on a mushroom he still had in his inventory.

Hels pursed his lips before yanking the fungi out of Wels’ hand and then smashing the knight’s head against a nearby wall. “Spit that out right now or I’ll go again until I break your tusks.”

“My what?” Wels asked, reluctantly spitting out the half chewed fungus.

“You’re an idiot. How did you not notice you were growing tusks?”

And Wels didn’t have an answer, just letting his hand go to his mouth and feel what were definitely tusks. “When did-”

“Who knows. My guess is it's something with this world. It’s not like any of us want to be here.”

Wels looked back over to Hels at that comment, a questioning look on his face. “Evil Xisuma approached me a few weeks ago. He was planning to get into the new season before the rest of you so he could keep from getting banned and put some action into play with his brother and a number of the other hermits. I wasn’t as interested in his plan, but having fun on the server on my own seemed like a good idea to me. A few others were planning to join us, but I’m sure they haven’t followed along. So as far as I’m aware, it is only Evil Xisuma and I trapped here with all of you.”

“Well, at the very least neither of us are stuck here alone.” Wels spoke, trying to give a positive spin on things.

“I would have preferred to be alone.” Hels replied. “You’ll use up more of my resources. That being said, my guess is you’re necessary for whatever is going on around here to stop. So until that’s fixed or I learn otherwise, I am reluctantly helping you.”

“Alright, that sounds fine for now. And you said Evil Xisuma is here too, correct? Any clue where he could be?”

Bdubs stared down at the void below his feet, glad to have stopped moving, though his gut was still getting used to that change. The guy in pink armor next to him was reluctantly patting his back as another wave of nausea hit and he started to dry heave. “Th-Thanks.”

“Whatever. I just know what being stuck in the void is like so I have a little sympathy.”

“Well glad to know I’m not the only one stuck in this situation. Not that that’s a good thing.”

“Right.” The armored person deadpanned, looking down at the void as well.

Bdubs was quiet for a little before looking over to his savior. “So then, I don’t really think I caught your name in all our yelling to heave both of us up here.”

The other person raised an eyebrow at Bdubs, as if to ask if he was serious, then being a little surprised when he was. The person hesitated, looking down, not to the void but more at their lap, then a hand fiddled with their hair before they finally looked back at Bdubs. “Name’s Xannes.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Bdubs!” And he held out a hand, pausing as he noticed the state it was in.

Xannes took the hand carefully and shook it, before helping it back to Bdubs’ side. “Side effect of the void. I’m more protected because of my armor, but you don’t have that.”

“Well now I’m actually upset about not having armor, even if it were pink.”

Xannes looked incredulous at that before putting his hands on his hips. “Hey, this is simply a… lightish red.”

“You mean pink.”

“Lightish. Red.”

“Lightish red is red mixed with white. And what does that give you? Pink. You’ve got pink armor.”

“Alright, so maybe it’s supposed to be pink.” Xannes conceded. “But my color is red, and this isn’t my armor, I’m simply borrowing it. So for anyone else, it would be pink, but as long as I wear it, it’s a lightish red.”

“Whatever you say.”

Xannes sighed and then carefully took Bdubs’ hand again. “Alright, so looking again, this doesn’t quite look as natural as being stuck in the voice can make it. Obviously that’s because none of this is natural. Even though it wouldn’t help me in the long run if it were working, I have tested plenty with my communicator and learned a number of things. First, we are not the only ones in a situation like this.”

“Yeah.” Bdubs agreed. “I already met Scar stuck on one of the islands below.”

“Noted.” Xannes nodded. “Well, others have similar odd spawns. I- Someone named Impulse had been stuck in a guardian temple, a Docm77 has been sent to his death by goats. X-Xisuma has been dealing with a warden.” Xannes started to explain, voice getting quieter at the last example, though Bdubs didn’t notice.

“And the void stuff?”

“If I knew more about what was going on, I could tell you. But as it stands, I can just tell your limbs seem to have a form of void-bite and your eyes are as dark as the void itself.”

Bdubs leaned back a little in shock at the comment. “Wait, really?” And then he was fishing into his shirt before pulling out a knife, Xannes’ eyes widening at the weapon. Bdubs held the blade up, briefly putting it back down to shine it against his shirt before using it as a mirror and then staring into it. Sure enough, his eyes seemed to go on forever into their sockets, pure darkness filling them.

“How many knives do you have?” Xannes asked, tearing Bdubs’ gaze from the weapon.

“Huh? Oh, I’ve got plenty. Want one?” And he pulled out another, only the tiniest bit worried about being stabbed by the unfamiliar person. But instead of stabbing him, Xannes simply threw the knife off the edge, watching it fall down. “What was that for?”

Xannes didn’t really reply, just holding a finger up for Bdubs to wait. Reluctantly, he did, but then got restless as time seemed to drag on. Any time he attempted to talk, he would just get shushed, making it feel even worse. Finally, out of nowhere, the knife suddenly fell past them, making Bdubs jump back enough that he nearly fell off their gateway and into the void, but Xannes grabbed him before that could happen and pulled him back in.

“Well then, it seems like a loop around the void lasts around two and a half minutes.” Xannes stated, shifting to turn his body and move to a different part of the gateway. “I guess it would be less on a second loop after already reaching terminal velocity, but it's good to know. I know something has been flying past here ever so often but I was still sort of stuck on the side of this thing for most of it, then I was dealing with you, so… you get the idea.”

“You telling me everything’s looping up and down like us?” Bdubs asked, looking around the sky, or what passed for it in the end.

“Us and anything non-living. I’ve already seen that there have been three void related deaths by Scar, Etho and TinFoilChef.”

“Well so far I’ve only seen Scar and you.” Bdubs replied. “I guess those other two are stuck around here too.”

“The chef, yes, but I’m not so sure about the other.” And Xannes handed his comm to Bdubs, showing a list of death messages, all belonging to Etho. “I have a function that lets me sort these messages. It’s very handy.” And then he reached off to the side, catching a comm as it fell from the air. “And this would be yours. I’ve seen it here and there… To be honest, it seems like it takes more than two or so minutes. We might need to test more.”

Bdubs swapped their communicators before looking down at the abyss below. “Well, Scar’s somewhere down there, I already found him once. I’m gonna see if I can get to him again and you can do whatever while I’m falling.”

Xannes rubbed his chin and then nodded. “Alright, go ahead. I’ll look out for you. If you respawn, wait a loop for me to catch you because I don’t have omniscient reaction time.”

“Sounds good to me.” Bdubs replied with a smile, then jumped into the void once more, ignoring the fear that came with it.

Scar rolled around on the end stone, trying to get to sleep. Sure, beds didn’t work in the end, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t sleep. It just wasn’t restful enough to keep phantoms away or set a spawn. Not like he needed to set a spawn three blocks away from his current one.

But right now, there was too much noise. The endermen were slowly losing their cool with Scar and he was also hearing the whispering of the vex. To be honest, that was probably why huge endermen were acting as they were. Void magic didn’t like to work with other magic.

But even with all of that, Scar really wanted to sleep for another reason. The whispers of the vex weren’t the only new thing with him. He had polished the pillar near him as just something to do other than wait around. The end rod in particular he shined until it was just mirror-like enough that he saw his green eyes were now vex blue. From that, he checked himself over a bit more and found that his eyes weren’t the only change. He seemed to be an inch or three shorter and his skin was definitely paler than before. He didn’t have wings again, but he knew it would only be a matter of time.

Scar really didn’t want to use any more help from the vex yet, knowing it would speed things up. He wanted to keep hope out for seeing Bdubs again before doing anything since it could be his last chance before a deal was needed once more. If he could just-

“Convex.” A much clearer whisper spoke, making Scar jump a little. “Are you sure a deal is such a bad thing at this stage in time?”

“Oh no no no no no.” Scar insisted, standing up and waving his hands in refusal. “I’m sure I’ll be better use to my friends if I’m not mostly stuck working with you guys.”

“What if you were not working for us?” The whisper asked, making Scar pause.

“Wait? I’m Convex because I can’t become true vex because of Xisuma and him tainting me and Cub with the void or something. I would think now being stuck in the end would make it worse, not better!”

“You still cannot, that is true. But a new evoker is being trained, one also tainted by the void. And I believe you would want to work with them.”

Scar inhaled sharply at the implication, knowing that it must be a hermit they were referring to. He fumbled in pulling his communicator out and then scrolled through all the death messages before finally seeing what he wanted. Death messages to vindicators and evokers, both about Mumbo. “So clarification on this deal?”

“You will still be considered Convex, but on a higher level than before. Not quite at the level of standard vex however. But during this, you will be linked to the new evoker, and cannot be released unless they themselves will it. And you should not will your release either.”

“Yeah, yeah, if that’s all, sure!” Scar agreed quickly, so excited he didn’t really take the time to think it over. Then suddenly he could feel more magic flowing into him. So much it felt like a red hot iron pressed all over his body, especially at his scars. And then it was gone, and he was left panting on the ground.

He didn’t know how long he had been there, but suddenly his name was shouted and Scar managed to lift his head up. He saw Bdubs rocking down towards him again and suddenly felt stronger again, getting a burst of energy and moving towards the builder. New wings spread from his back and let him fly, keeping him above the void as he grabbed his friend and then slowed them before reaching the abyss below, then slowly dragging them back up.

“Bdubs! Are you okay?!” Scar asked the moment they were both on the endstone, only staying on his feet for a second before his knees buckled beneath him.

“Am I okay? Am I okay?! I’m on the sweet sweet ground again!” And then he kissed the stone beneath him. “What about you? You look… not Scar but sound normal.”

“I can explain more in a bit. There’s an end city just over that way and I want to get something so we can start towards the main island. I’ll see if there’s elytra for you.”

“Oh no. I don’t think I ever want to fly again. If anyone, give it to Xannes.”

“Who?”

“Okay, guess my story first.”

On the main island, TFC dodged another attack from the dragon. She had been attacking less frequently, which was good and bad in his eyes. No attacking meant less dying, but TFC needed her attacks to even attempt destroying all the crystals. Because there was no way she was dying to fists alone with them still around.

That all being said, TFC had a sneaking suspicion on why exactly that was happening. His prosthetics were built to match his remaining limbs in function, but gradually over the past few respawns, they were becoming off balance. In trying to fix them, TFC realized he was less human than before, claws on his hands and feet, and tenderness at his tailbone and shoulder blades.

TFC was old, that much was true. And because of that, he had seen all sorts of situations. While for the most part the problems of this world were new to TFC, adaptations were not. A number of present day hybrids were a result of that. Heck, mob variants were also sourced from suce and occurrence. So yeah, TFC was not too surprised about seemingly becoming a dragon hybrid.

Thinking it over, in the long run it would likely give him just enough of an upper hand to defeat the dragon, but there was also the concern of how long it would take to get to that point and how far these alterations would go. If this went too far, the world itself could mistake him for a new ender dragon, and even after killing the real one, no portal would form due to his existence.

Well, if that was the case, he would need to figure out what it was that made the existence of the dragon close the portal and see if he could reverse it. Especially since he recalled at least one or two hermits were supposed to be stuck in the end with him. Though that did give him another idea. Maybe he didn’t have to keep fighting if the dragon opened the portal herself.

The next time TFC respawned, he waited, giving her time to rest. When he was sure the dragon was fully healed again, the miner made his way to the podium and waited. The dragon swooped a few times, giving some warning shots, but she didn’t attack TFC directly, and he made no move to attack the crystals. She didn’t look happy, but TFC had plenty of time to wait.

In a bout of frustration, ink was spilled over the floor, making Mumbo even more frustrated than before. He didn’t understand the need for learning another language just for spells. He was sure that knowing the characters that appeared with enchanting would be enough, but apparently the illagers had their own writing system. At the very least, Mumbo recognized a character or two that Scar or Cub must have had written down, but it still felt like he was learning a new language from scratch.

With ink all over the place, Mumbo paused to work on cleaning everything up. He had ruined nearly all his materials, so now he would have to attempt to get more or find an illager who would assist him in such a task. Paper was easy enough to get, a farm already set up in the mansion, but Mumbo hadn’t automated it yet, so there wasn’t going to be much to reap. And squid ink wasn’t something they just had on hand.

Mumbo reached the farming room and grabbed what sugarcane had grown, taking the reeds over to a crafting table then cutting and pressing them into paper. He only managed to make six pages from all of that and didn’t have the material to bind them into a book.Instead of leaving the room, Mumbo put the paper into a nearby chest and then pulled out his redstone materials.

As Mumbo built, he decided to multitask by using redstone dust to practice some of the characters he needed to learn. He couldn’t remember the normal order of the characters, so he just wrote them at random. He never really focused on the characters, so he didn’t notice when a few in a line started to glow a bit. In fact, he was just pausing his writing to work on fixing a bit of redstone, his head stuck in the contraption.

His hand blindly reached for some string to add as a tripwire, but he was about half a foot to the wrong side of his pile of materials. When Mumbo’s hand started to go further, it was stopped by some thread being placed in his hand. The redstoner said his thanks and then strung it up before pausing and pulling his head out.

Standing nearby was someone Mumbo immediately recognized, not knowing anyone else with a bright red sweater like that. Not caring that he was currently covered in redstone dust, Mumbo jumped at the newcomer and hugged them tightly, so glad to see a familiar face. “Grian! You’re okay! How did you get here? Where are the bots? Are you alright?”

But pulling away again, Mumbo watched as Grian just blinked at him, seeming a little confused. “I think you may be mistaken and confused, my mustachioed friend. I mean, I am okay and I got here because of you, but I’m not sure what you mean by bots and well, you were trying to take to someone named Grian.”

Mumbo furrowed his brows. Looking them over again, he could tell this had to be Grian. His clothes and hair and everything were the same. He couldn’t quite tell about their eyes because they were wearing a mask, but it matched the one he had seen Grian with in the past, a black mark on its face instead of the purple Eflyn expected. The only thing unfamiliar were the wings. Shape and pattern wise, they matched the wings Grian had, but the colors of the feathers were no longer red yellow and blue, but purple grey and black.

“Well then. If you’re not Grian, then who are you?” Mumbo asked, and the person giggled slightly.

“I could have swore you already knew, but I guess not. The name is Xelqua, but don’t go throwing it around to just anyone.” And just hearing it reminded Mumbo. It had been a name Grian had told him before.

“Well, if you don’t want me throwing it around, I’m going to have to call you something.” Mumbo spoke up, Xelqua seeming to agree. “Since I already mistook you for him and he’s not around, how about I call you Grian.”

“Hmm.” Grian thought about it before shaking his head. “Just you and me, you can call me Xelqua. Otherwise just Watcher is fine, okay?”

“But I-” Mumbo started to say, and then there was a clatter, making Mumbo and Grian look over at the door where Eflyn was standing.

“Well. It seems we have another guest then…”

Joe had paused in his material gathering. It was just going to be for a little bit, but he needed to clear his head. And the best idea he had for that was climbing the tower at spawn the correct way. Sure, he could try climbing from the outside or something, finding a window, but at this point these were definitely Watchers, and Joe was very much aware that they were not to be messed with.

Joe needed to pause on a platform to hold his head, a headache forming. It had been coming and going for a while, but it didn’t feel so bad now, the tower already lit up pretty well. As he waited, his other hand clutched at the wall as best it could, just feeling the texture of the wall, as if to check that it was real. “Guess you really couldn’t have been swayed, now could you?” Joe asked, speaking into the empty air around him. “Well maybe after this mess we can try it again.”

Joe climbed a few more parts of the parkour that acted as steps before nearly falling to a sudden splitting headache. He half considered letting go and trying again, there being enough hay lining the floor below to break his fall, but he had already gotten so far. And maybe if he could get to the top of the tower…

It had been ages ago when Joe had first met a Watcher. From what he could tell, it was even the first Watcher to exist. One that eventually disappeared to time that not even the other Watchers knew what happened. He wasn’t an expert of whatever the Watchers exactly were, but it had been enough that he recognized Grian as one pretty quickly when they first met in season six. Though that was partially from that not being their first meeting.

Yes, Joe had been along for a very long time. Which is why he was not happy with everything going on. But he had a bargaining chip in the form of knowledge, so getting to the top might be the one place to try and use it.

His headache passed and the glow from his eyes faded. Joe pulled himself back onto the platform and then adjusted his glasses. Just a bit more to go until he was at the top.

Doc woke up in a wood hut, lying in a bed. His back and head hurt, getting worse when he attempted to move to get up. He tried to remember what happened last, but suddenly being knocked unconscious wasn’t the best thing to try and remember. Looking around in a way that didn’t hurt as much, he was able to see a chest as well as something lying on the ground to his right.

Some crackling implied there was also a furnace running nearby. Mixed with that was some slight banging of metal from crafting and the hum of a tune that was familiar to Doc, but he couldn’t quite place it.

Another attempt to sit up left Doc yelp slightly in pain, stopping the humming and crafting sounds, getting replaced with footsteps that came towards him. “Are you awake this time?”

“Grumbot?” Doc asked, vaguely recognizing the robot that appeared in front of him. He only really distinctly knew his larger form, only seeing him and his brother at this size when they were just about to leave their previous world.

“Yeah. looks like you are. We have some bread if you’re hungry.” Grum spoke in a quiet voice that felt so odd compared to how energetic the hermits usually were. That being said, it had been a while since he had seen anyone else, so it might have just been from what others were dealing with. “I also left some of the wheat as wheat if you prefer that.”

“What? Why would I want that? Bread sounds fine.”

“Okay, I wasn’t sure if you were like dad or not.” Grum said before he went over to the chest, giving Doc a moment to think things over.

“Dad as in Grian or Mumbo?”

“Grian.” Grum answered, pulling out some food. “He was with us on the mountain. Everything was getting to him, so he started eating seeds instead of other stuff.”

“Okay. Is he out getting supplies or something?” Doc asked and then Grum’s face shifted to something sadder. “What happened to Grian?”

“I don’t know.” Grum spoke, managing to be quieter than before. “He just disappeared and Jrum and I were stuck alone on the mountain. And then I messed up.” And it took all of Doc’s willpower to not sit up and possibly hurt himself in the process with how sad Grum sounded in that moment.

“Why? What happened?”

“Someone figured out how to send messages in chat by accident. Jrum and I noticed, and we were going to try it out for ourselves, but it didn’t go right. And now Jrum… Jrum didn’t respawn right.”

And with that comment, Doc realized what was on the ground nearby. Jrum’s body was laid out, screen dark and body unmoving. “How long has he been like that?”

“A few days I think. It got really snowy so I couldn’t quite tell. Then I got busy digging through the snow until I found some ice to break.”

“And that must have been the waterfall I took down off the mountain.” Doc said, making Grum look a little sheepish.

“Sorry about hitting you when I fell. I freaked out a bit and then you were there and I couldn’t react in time. I’m sure if it was anyone else, they would have been in worse shape.”

“Why’s that?” Doc asked, though he had an idea based on which side of him ached more.

“Well, your metal parts helped protect you plus I think your thicker skull helped from a concussion.”

“My what?”

“Oh, I thought you…” Grum said, trailing off. “Um, so I think more weird stuff is happening than just being stuck wherever.”

“Yeah, I knew that.” Doc said. “Creeper instincts have been kicking in like crazy.”

“Well, your death messages mentioned goats a lot. It looks like because of that, you’ve started turning into a goat hybrid as well.”

“I’ve what?” Doc asked, incredulously. He ignored the pain from moving when he started feeling himself over, finally finding horns coming from his head. “Oh… huh…”

Grum forced Doc back down to a resting position before feeding him some bread. Here, how about I tell you what I know about, then you can tell me what you know.

“Sounds good to me.”

55 notes · View notes

riacte · 4 years

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Let’s appreciate the recent HEP/ Mycelium Heist

I don’t know if this was planned, but they (Etho, Impulse, Grian) entered the HEP factory through the chimneys, and I find this so funny because last time the HEP did a heist, Tango “hacked” in the vault, but this time they legit saw behind-the-scenes architecture and was like “hey, this is probably hollow right” AND IT’S JUST SO THEM TO GET IN THROUGH SOMETHING THAT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE SHOWN ON CAMERA MWJXJAK

I honestly had zero idea how they were going to get in— they didn’t have a key, the windows were all sealed, there wasn’t an obvious “trapped” entrance. So it was really nice to see them enter in a creative way

I think moments like these are when Scar’s detailed builds truly shine. Scar’s builds always have character and a story behind them, and he briefly explains it to us in his episodes, but there’s nothing like the hermits exploring Scar’s builds in the middle of a storyline. You can see they’re genuinely so confused yet impressed by... well, everything. They don’t have any what MooPop is, but they’re FASCINATED

And it’s not just some tour of the factory, or a casual fly-by, they’re legit exploring the factory and trying their best to uncover its secrets. Seeing Scar explain how he built a factory ladder is very different from seeing Grian actually go down said ladder. It’s just so... beautifully immersive. And Scar’s wonderful builds go perfectly well with the storyline.

THE MINECARTS. Oh man. They’re hilarious. When I saw them in Scar’s video, I was really impressed by his creativity but thought “oh well, that’s just for the aesthetic. As fun as it is, no one’s gonna ride it.” WELL. Seeing the MR gang on the railway/pipe thing that connected the chimney to the main room and actually using the minecart to go down was so fun. Like the minecarts were a Chekhov’s gun. It’s just so satisfying to see Scar’s “aesthetic” details have practical use.

Not only the building’s fantastic, the redstone was also spectacular. I don’t have time to watch all the hermits (mainly watching Scar and Grian rn) but I could instantly recognise Tango and Cub’s redstone. The redstone was so cleverly created. Like, they could’ve used TNT and boom boom the place up ala Resistance style. But no. A skeleton that shoots flaming arrows, the freakin vibe check (hilarious), the clouds of potion particles, the multiple levers in different rooms that all result in traps— it gave me very Season 6 Team STAR traps vibes. Cheeky, but not always deadly.

AND OF COURSE THE RAVAGER! The slow descent of it when Etho activated the trap... everyone immediately getting Decked Out flashbacks... experiencing the “oh damn we didn’t think this through moment”... and the resulting PURE PANIC.

They tried to put the Ravager in a minecart, which again is a nice touch. They’re actively trying to use their surroundings to help them instead of immediately cheesing it

TANGO’S NONCHALANCE IN THE CHAT... casually watching HEP security slay the Resistance...

Grian respawning and quickly dying was also hilarious because it reminded me of the prank he pulled on Scar at the Upside Down, so is this karma?? Maybe?? XD

Dude was so desperate lol. He ran, he flew, he enderpearled— and still died. Tango’s probably crying tears of laughter seeing the death messages.

Speaking of Grian, what a coincidence that he lost his Bdubs head and had to kill Bdubs, only to get massacred by the HEP in like the exact same day.

THEIR ATTACHMENT TO THE BDUBS HEAD. Truly the face of the Resistance and Hermitcraft (see: Lime Liches in Minecraft Championship)

Seeing Cub log on and log off was making me nervous HAHA. I half-expected him to show up in the middle of the heist kinda like how Doc did when False gave Grian and Ren the Area 77 tour.

I feel the one (1) block of mycelium was a callback to the one (1) diamond in the fake vault... and naturally the Resistance thought they had been bamboolzed, because they pulled the same trick on HEP. Then they realised the mycelium was there all along and they were bamboolzed AGAIN.

There were so many mycelium blocks on the floor... so many shulker boxes. Hilarious how the MR spent so much time pulling off (and failing) the heist only to leave the majority of their treasures behind...

The heist was a hilariously epic failure. HEP put in so much effort and hard work. It felt like everything was meticulously crafted

Kudos to everyone involved in this heist!! Everything about it is excellent— the lore, the story, the architecture, the redstone, the humour, the panic— everything. This is one of those Hermitcraft episodes that I’ll rewatch tens of times and still never get bored. Thank you hermits for the serotonin <33 can’t wait to see what happens next!

Feel free to reblog and add more!

#hermitcraft #mycelium resistance #hermitblr #mcyt #grian #ethoslab #impulsesv #goodtimeswithscar #cubfan135 #tangotek #hep #wow I love hermits #and the thing is... I don’t even watch cub and tango that much but their redstone just screams them #there is only one (1) person who would use those text symbols in minecraft books #ria.txt

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shadlad24 · 3 years

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Foiled by a Foil

The Loss of Innocents

So, in “Sacrifice II,” this happens:

Several people have wondered why. Well, I believe having a flashback to something that happened literally a moment prior is meant to underscore the parallels between two characters, along with tying together all that another lost.

The warrior princess has murdered a once-innocent young girl whose life she ruined and soul she twisted, twice in as many seconds. Because yet again, her blind fury over Solan’s death has killed Gabrielle (to Xena’s perspective, anyway; I think Gabrielle very much had agency in that moment). Then that same impulsive thoughtlessness turned around and killed someone who had become Gabrielle’s foil even more than she was Xena’s. Callisto had finally overcome her lust for revenge to the point of wanting to die, just like Gabrielle forfeited multiple chances for vengeance and instead nearly drank the poison she gave Hope, which Xena witnessed.

Something forgotten far and wide is that in one instant Xena loses everyone whose lives hers revolved around, all she’s thought about, for years. Her only child is gone, and she has finally fully avenged him. Every other character who played a part in Solan’s death has been defeated and/or destroyed—Dahak, Hope, Gabrielle, and Callisto–all within minutes of each other. So, what does Xena have to live for? Her work is done.

And now, who remains beside her? Joxer? Ares? She doesn’t care for either one of them beyond mild affection and detached annoyance. Of course, there is no need to argue that Xena still has and loves Cyrene, but her mother has never commanded the same space in Xena’s heart, mind, or life that her partner and enemies do. Toris is a non-entity, and Lyceus, their father, and grandparents died long ago, as did M’Lila, Borias, Lao Ma, and Akemi.

Perhaps, too, beyond giving Callisto exactly what she wanted, which Xena had been against doing the whole episode, Xena realizes that she’s taken something huge from herself at the same time. At least if she had allowed Callisto to laugh and then blaze her merry way out of there, Xena would still have purpose. She could hunt Callisto to the ends of the earth for vengeance, would have someone other than herself to blame. Callisto helped Hope kill Solan; Callisto gloried in Gabrielle’s death, which could thinly be attributed to her as well. But now, by slaying Callisto, Xena has nothing.

The last major piece of the puzzle is that in dispatching Callisto, Xena finally sees the appeal of the immortal’s desire. Oblivion and the end of her suffering or the underworld and reunion with her loved ones, how much better would it be for Xena to be in either of those places rather than left behind in the realm of the living? Xena does not know but will soon go searching for that answer…

#xena #xena warrior princess #xena and gabrielle #gabrielle #callisto #sacrifice II #fan theory #the rift arc #parallels #solan #hope #dahak

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klixxy · 4 years

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weekly fic recs

(ft. my bookmark comments - mostly mha and voltron)

boku no hero academia:

what is right and what is easy - theroyalsavage

(bnha; tododeku; fluff + angst; 2k words; oneshot)

Midoriya Izuku is not chosen to represent Hogwarts in the Triwizard Tournament. He does not slay a dragon, or rescue innocents, or brave a maze of dark magic. He does not win accolades, or fame, or glory.

Instead, Izuku meets the son of the greatest dark wizard of the age, a Durmstrang student with hair like a sunrise and eyes like a war. And maybe, he just might win something else.

If I'm Being Honest.... by I_dont_know_man

(bnha; tododeku; fluff + crack/humor; 26k words; oneshot; truth quirk)

Midoriya scrunched up his nose in confusion. “Uh, Shouto, why are you glaring at me like that?”

“I-” Todoroki began to lie, until nausea slammed him like a door to any room that Bakugou entered. “I--” Todoroki grit his teeth, and glared daggers into the wall behind Midoriya. Goodbye, friendship. It had been absolutely divine while it lasted. “Because you’re very attractive.”

They say honesty is the best policy, but it sure as hell had a knack for Todoroki making a complete and utter fool of himself.

Or: In which Todoroki is placed under a mysterious truth-telling quirk and suffers, Uraraka laughs at him, Midoriya is confused but smitten nonetheless, and Twitter is the thirstiest site on the planet.

paint on our lips (paint on those fingertips) by spicanao

(bnha; tododeku; angst + magical realism; 11k words; oneshot; gallery au)

Galleries are wonderful places. The works seem so vibrant, so beautiful, so alive.

Until they're actually alive.

(Ib AU)

[my bookmarks: holy shit this is beautiful in an odd, poignant, dream-like way]

Todoroki Shouto’s Amateur Guide to Not Fucking Up The Timeline by Anubis_2701

(bnha; tododeku; crack/humor; 13k words; oneshot; time travel; future fic)

All that Todoroki had wanted was milk. Nothing drastic, nothing dramatic, just milk.

Unfortunately, in his quest to get milk, he ended up running into one of the saltiest, most impulsive people this side of the globe. Who also just so happened to have a volatile time-travel quirk.

So yeah, he was fucked. Just slightly. Being punted randomly through time wasn't exactly how he'd wanted to spend his Saturday morning. At least the younger versions of his friends are cute.

awake and (un)afraid, asleep or- by driedupwishes

(bnha; tododeku; fluff + angst + The Feels; 54k words; oneshot; social media/future fic)

“You,” Shoto says, picking his head up from where his screen is filled with The Worst Photograph Ever, curtesy of Shinsou, Jiro, Kaminari, his brother, and nearly everyone they know. “You are so dead to me.”

Kirishima blinks, mouth half open while Izuku mutters oh god, it’s too late, isn’t it on the other end of the phone, before Kirishima is leaning into his space to see his screen.

“Oh,” he says, in response to the photo someone in the crowd of civilians watching the fight had taken of them. “Oh, that’s-” he cuts himself off for a minute, leaning back to eye Shoto’s face while on the other side of the phone Izuku smothers what is probably a laugh, and then changes tracks.

“It’s super manly to love and support your friends,” Kirishima tells Shoto haughtily, as if this whole thing isn't his fault in the first place.

or: Kirishima and Shoto accidentally start trending on Twitter and in retaliation Shoto decides to make an Instagram to showcase all his Hero Deku merchandise, so that everyone knows how much he loves his boyfriend Izuku, and no one expects how quickly it will all spiral out from there

[my bookmarks: broke my heart. i teared up multiple times and even now I'm barely holding back tears.

pure beauty. pulls an incredible amount of emotion from the descriptive language and conveys the love and loneliness and that pulsing ache so well that i thought that my chest would cave in from the force of all the fucking feelings in it. this entire fic was a perfect, awe-inspiring package of fluff, beautiful shoto and class 1a interaction, heartfelt long distance tododeku feels, and almost every single paragraph had my heart fucking squeezing so hard in my chest that i could barely breathe.

i am in awe.]

Hooliganisms by aphrodaisyacs

(bnha; gen/todofam; crack/humor; 17k words; series; social media)

In which an anonymous artist’s street art of Bald Endeavor goes viral, causing a chain of coincidental events and ironic situations to ripple through the lives of everyone- heroes, villains and civilians alike.

[my bookmarks: i'm crying so much from laughter]

Part 1: Where it all begins- the origins of the street artist known as the "Bald Hooligan" and their rise to infamy

Part 2: The spin-off focusing on the unlikely trio whose friendship was borne from the events of Part 1

Daydreaming by AnonymousTwit

(bnha; gen/todobakudeku; angst; 7k words; oneshot; todoroki-centric)

If he'd been more careful, then they'd be fine. If he'd been paying attention, then he wouldn't be alone right now.

But he wasn't and he hadn't, so it's just him, now. It's him, his thoughts, and the unconscious bodies of two of his closest friends as he waits for someone to reach them.

Whether they be friendly or not.

Author has writer's block and coughed up some Todoroki angst in retaliation.

A Study in Firsts by Oceanbreeze7

(bnha; gen; angst + fluff + humor; 76k words; ongoing; class 1a-centric)

There’s a first time for everything.

The first time everyone crammed in Momo’s room to study, a mess of limbs and books on her bed.

The first time Mina burned crepes so badly the smoke alarm went off.

The first time a jumpscare got Sero so badly, he flipped off the back of the couch.

The first time Uraraka fell asleep at the table and accidentally sent it floating.

The first time someone realized Todoroki walked far too quietly, and far too cautiously around the dorms to be normal.

The first time Midoriya broke his toe on a door frame and kept walking through it.

The first time Kirishima woke up screaming through the walls.

The first time Tsuyu blanched at the sight of a needle.

The first time Bakugo dropped, clutching the back of his neck with eyes scarily vacant and detonating everything around him until Aizawa had to intervene.

It wasn’t always pretty, but the dorms were filled with firsts.

Responsibility by deafmic

(bnha; gen; angst + hurt/comfort; 94k words; series (complete); todoroki-centric; dadzawa + papamic)

“I told you outside,” Aizawa chooses his words carefully, reiterating the same point he’s made before. “My responsibility for you doesn’t end at the classroom. Every part of your life is partially my responsibility. Your father doesn’t scare or intimidate me. If you need help, I can get it for you, but you and I both know that you need to ask for it first.”

Aizawa organizes a way for the students to go home for the holidays. Todoroki Shouto, however, gets left behind by his father. Aizawa, annoyed at Endeavor, takes Shouto under his care for the night, and is joined by a certain Yamada Hizashi.

[my bookmarks: *unholy screaming sobbing noises*

an incredible and emotional journey from start to finish.]

the drip of melting ice by walking_through_autumn

(bnha; gen/platonic shintodo; angst + fluff; 19k words; oneshot; todoroki/shinsou-centric ft. dadzawa)

Aizawa found out within a day. It was quite likely due to the dish Todoroki had washed and left to dry in the shared kitchen after the kitten had been fed off it. Hitoshi was forced to reflect that it wasn’t any good hiding the litter and cat food in their wardrobes if Todoroki was going to make a fundamental mistake like that.

Aizawa stood in his door frame and raised an eyebrow. “Well? Where is the cat?”

Hitoshi gave his most disarming smile. “What cat?”

Todoroki chose that moment to exit his room, eyes on his phone, other hand holding a cat toy. He bumped into Aizawa and looked up slowly, like in a horror movie.

“...oh,” Todoroki said. Aizawa raised the other eyebrow. Hitoshi rubbed a hand down his face.

Herbal tea, weekly floor gatherings, spoiled surprises, movie marathons, shared custody over a cat, rain and ice and blankets and plushies, and the journey of falling into a friendship.

(Or: Hitoshi moves into the 2A dormitory at the beginning of his second year, learns who his neighbour is, and makes the friends he had declared he isn't there to have within the space of a semester.)

Hand in Hand in Hand by kngsbrg (Citlalcoatl)

(bnha; todobakudeku; fluff + strangers to lovers; 10k words; oneshot; tea au)

Boiling the water, choosing the right temperature for the right kind of tea, using quality leaves, scooping the precise amount, and letting it steep for just the perfect time...

All that and more is needed to make a delicious cup of tea.

A business that Shouto was quite knowledgeable about.

Spring begins and brings with it the hint of new fresh air, buds waiting to blossom, and just a bit of change.

[my bookmarks: featuring: oblivious teamaker shoto and pining firemen baku and izu]

even if i die (it's you) by monomoon

(bnha; todobaku; fluff + angst + strangers to lovers; 75k words; complete; paramedic au)

Or; where Todoroki never went to UA and, in rejection of his father's ambitions, became a paramedic; and where pro hero Bakugou Katsuki is just a little bit too intrigued with the heterochromatic man who always glares daggers at him whenever he sees him.

When Bakugou was suddenly and abruptly met with two cold, heterochromatic eyes glaring daggers right back at him, he had two immediate thoughts:

"Why does he look like he's plotting my assassination?"

and

"Why the fuck are his eyes so pretty?"

[my bookmarks: UGH THIS IS JUST FUCKING PHENOMENAL- GORGEOUS LOVELY INCREDIBLE HEARTSTOPPING HEARTBREAKING BEAUTIFUL RIDICULOUSLY GOOD POIGNANT I AM RUNNING OUT OF ADJECTIVES BUT IT'S GREAT TRUST ME AKDHJSFNW]

This Is Now by colormesherlocked

(bnha; gen; angst + hurt/comfort + fluff; 193k words; series (ongoing); todoroki-centric)

Todoroki Shoto will be a hero.

...But not just yet. Right now, Todoroki Shoto is a bitter, pessimistic, hurt teenager who doesn't want help, friends or hinderances of any kind getting in the way of his misguided goals.

Thankfully, there will soon be people in his life who will be more than happy to drag him into a place of happiness, safety, and acceptance - kicking and screaming the whole way, if they have to. All he has to do is survive his first meeting with them and all the incredible changes that will come after.

This is Todoroki Shoto's Hero Academia.

(Semi-canon compliant up to a point and told from Todoroki Shoto's POV.)

the league of anti-villains by aizawa_wears_crocs (avenris), avenris

(bnha; gen; angst + fluff + humor; 35k words; ongoing; todobakushinmono-centric)

When he's secretly tasked to find the UA traitor, Todoroki isn't expecting help. He's especially not expecting it from the three other first year students perceived as villainous in their own ways. Unfortunately for him, Shinsou, Monoma and Bakugou have all got something to prove, and his solo mission turns into a team effort that rapidly spirals far beyond what they were expecting to find - but hey, they're in too deep now.

Or: in which the gang solves the mystery of the traitor feat. todoroki family shenanigans, copious amounts of dadzawa, backstory for my favorite 1-B gremlin, and good old-fashioned illegal vigilantism.

such eloquent graffiti by firelilyblooms

(bnha; todobaku; angst + hurt/comfort; 9k words; oneshot; todoroki-centric; future fic)

Todoroki Shouto is sitting cross-legged at his coffee table, hunched over a bowl of instant ramen, when he finds out along with the rest of the world that the Flame Hero, Endeavor, is dead.

Or, Shouto's guide to dealing with death.

[my bookmarks: i am in ✨pain✨:)]

Tell-All by HopeNight

(bnha; todofam; angst; 4k words; oneshot; todofam/natsuo-centric)

When Natsuo is twenty-years-old, he publishes a tell-all book on his father and growing up in his house. This starts a domino effect, of course. With the book comes an investigation and sets the groundwork for the Hawks scandal in several years’ time that will see the disbandment of the Heroic Public Safety Commission and the ascension of pro hero Deku to the Number One slot. This will also lead to a decades long chain of change and progress with Deku wielding his influence and charisma like a sword and shield to make society and the world a little better than when he found it.

In essence, you can say, that Todoroki Natsuo is the true hero of this story with his fake quirk and an anger burning in his gut. Just one small book and suddenly…everything changes. The future is brighter for its existence. The curtains are thrown back and the light begins its work to disinfect and cleanse.

When Todoroki Shouto is in his second year of UA, his brother, Natsuo, publishes a tell-all book of essays about growing up in Endeavor's house.

This is Natsuo's story about how he really changed the path of things.

like an open wound by filzmonster

(bnha; gen; angst + hurt/comfort; 5k words; oneshot; todoroki-centric; manga spoilers)

It's a Sunday and Shouto is making gyoza in the dorm kitchen - or: It's a Sunday and Todoroki has an existential crisis over food.

[my bookmarks: oh my GODDDDDDDDD

*screeches while crying**is a blubbering mess*]

Shouto Todoroki and His Stuffed Eeyore (And Also Childhood Trauma) by ThatSpicySeaFlapFlap

(bnha; gen; angst + MORE ANGST; 42k words; complete; todoroki-centric)

Aizawa looked him in the eye, placed a gentle hand around his bicep (not like Endeavor, his father had only ever touched him with the intention to burn) and asked, “Are you okay?”

People don’t usually ask him things. They like to tell him things, like where to sit or what to wear or how to talk or how to be a hero or how to be himself.

‘Am I okay?’ He thought. He realized he doesn’t ask himself things, either.

Shouto didn’t have an answer to Aizawa’s question, so instead he said:

“A very long time ago, my mother did something....highly upsetting.” The boy was tracing the outline of his scar, his calloused finger stopping and jumping around the bumps and ridges of the burnt skin. “Something today reminded me of that.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” His teacher asked.

“No.”

“Okay. I’m here when you do. I’m always here, kid.” Shouto only responded with a sob. He felt as if he’d earned that right after all the emotional labor he had been put through tonight.

days by chibistarlyte

(bnha; todobaku; angst + hurt/comfort; 19k words; series (complete); todoroki-centric)

Most days, Shouto is fine.

But some days...

Some days, Shouto falls apart.

Location Sent by sunflowerstorm

(bnha; gen; angst + hurt/comfort; 15k words; oneshot; todoroki-centric; third year 1a)

In their first year at UA Midoriya sent his location to the class 1-A group chat during the Hosu incident because he didn't have time to do anything else before rushing to Iida's aid.

Now in their second year, Todoroki sends his location to the group chat at 6:30am on a Saturday morning after going home for the weekend. Midoriya knows immediately that something is very wrong and takes off, Bakugo hot on his heels.

-----

"They’d known each other long enough to be able to communicate practically wordlessly. The quiet rage on Midoriya's face was extremely telling, this was bad. Bakugo braced himself as Midoriya shuffled to the side to show where his hands were hovering over what was most certainly a burn and a serious one at that. Todoroki’s own fire didn’t burn him but they all knew that didn’t make him fire proof. Bakugo could do the math."

Faith by phinnium

(bnha; gen; angst + hurt/comfort; 7k words; oneshot; todoroki-centric; manga spoilers)

"You wanted to open a case?"

Aizawa frowned, "uh, yeah. Someone showed you Dabi's video, didn't they? And I don't doubt Todoroki himself has told you bits and pieces."

Izuku did not expect this to be how the conversation went.

"Yeah. But Todoroki isn't being hurt now. He's fine. Endeavour's changed."

Or: Midoriya trusts the Hero Commission far more than he should, especially given the situation at hand. Todoroki isn't available to explain what's what, so Aizawa and Bakugou do it instead.

(Written after the release of issue 293 of the manga, and in the aftermath of the current arc. Spoilers ahead.)

Incendiary by macrauchenia

(bnha; gen; angst + hurt/comfort; 17k words; ongoing (hiatus?); todoroki-centric)

"You're going to die, little Todoroki. And if you don't, your classmates will instead."

A training exercise backfires when Izuku and Todoroki become tangled in an escaped villain's vendetta against Endeavor. Alone in a perilous situation due to the villain's barrier quirk, Todoroki must take desperate and creative measures to save his classmates.

[Class 1-A Teamwork/Bonding]

Parallax by petrichor (findingkairos)

(bnha; gen; angst + hurt/comfort + fluff; 64k words; ongoing; todoroki-centric)

Todoroki Shouto has memories that he didn't make on his own, motor skills that his brain doesn't know how to parse, and a love of science and mathematics and physics that means he broke down his Quirk into its most intricate, universe-bending components at the age of seven.

In one universe, he wants to become a hero. In this one, even though he doesn't want to, he might have to.

(Featuring: a rapidly developing Shoutosquad, Quirk science, headcanons of all flavors, healthy and supportive sibling and sibling-like relationships, and Dadzawa.)

[notes: one of my current favorite fics that i’m eagerly following for the next update. :D]

Caturdays by staqua (aka my fav todobaku author)

(bnha; todobaku; fluff + angst + enemies to lovers; 10k words; oneshot)

"Hmm... It's lunchtime now isn't it? You should have lunch with him."

"With Bakugou?" He blanched. "I think he would refuse and then murder me."

Rei chuckled softly as if death was a joke and held his hand tenderly. "If he's in the hospital, someone he cares about must not be well. I think anyone going through that should have a nice meal with good company."

"You overestimate me," Shouto pointed out and she gave another laugh.

OR: Shouto's usual Saturdays included visits to his mother and the cat cafe; he wasn't expecting Bakugou to get thrown in the mix.

voltron: legendary defender:

*hacks twitter in space* by Zakyuu

(vld x marvel; gen/klance; crack/humor + fluff; 17k words; social media au; ongoing)

the voltron paladins arent as popular as the avengers, obviously — in fact, no one even knows they exist. but they still radiate the same kind of dumb gay energy like the rest of the world.

or: pidge somehow manages to connect voltron's communicators onto earth and virtually nothing is the same. voltron also collectively makes everyone lose their marbles while they play hot potato with the fact that theyre in a ten thousand year war with the galra.

the fear of falling by amillionsmiles

(vld; gen; angst + fluff; character study; 3k words; oneshot; keith-centric)

Keith can pull off a downward spiral. It's the kind of maneuver he does in his sleep.

[my bookmarks: stunning. beautiful. breathtaking. poignant.]

Recoil/Release by Cheshyr

(vld; gen; angst + hurt/comfort; 22k words; oneshot; keith-centric)

When Keith is bitten by an alien creature with venom that causes your dominant emotions to be amplified, the team is ready for a day of dealing with an incredibly angry paladin.

Which means they're not ready at all for what actually happens.

hound by story_monger

(vld; gen; angst + hurt/comfort; 47k words; oneshot; keith-centric)

Keith has a lot of practice being alone; you might almost say he's good at it. When he finds himself seriously injured and stranded on an unknown planet, he knows he's not alone there. And here's the worst part: even after rescue and after things return to normal, Keith gets the distinct sense that whatever was on that planet has followed him. He doesn't have proof. But he knows it's there. He knows it's not going to stop until it gets what it wants.

Keith's 'Physical Contact' Initiation Program by alisayamin (sh_04e)

(vld; gen; fluff+ angst + hurt/comfort; 26k words; oneshot; keith-centric)

Keith didn’t move and neither did Pidge. It was a little awkward until Keith finally said, “Maybe we could officially officiate this..?”

“What do you mean?”

“Fist me.”

Pidge recoiled and sputtered, “Keith, what the f-” She was cut off by Shiro’s bellowing laughter from the observatory deck.

With his straight face unchanged, Keith lowered his left hand with the stopwatch and lifted his right hand, fisted.

Pidge actually sighed with so much relief, “OH. You mean fistbump! Right.” She slapped her forehead to remove the very very wrong image her imagination drew for her, “Holy shit, Keith, we need to work on that but yeah sure, I’d be honoured to officiate your physical contact program whatever.”

That one time Coran realized Keith was too distant and decided to make him undergo the 'Physical Contact' Initiation Program which then led to --> 5 times the paladins realized Keith was an actual cat.

The Red String by Le_Tournesol

(vld; gen/klance; angst + fluff; 19k words; series (ongoing); keith-centric; pre-voltron au)

Lance and Keith keep coming across one another at different points in their lives.

[my bookmarks: this is so sad and sweet and lovely]

All that is gold does not glitter by Rangergirl3

(vld; gen; angst + fluff + hurt/comfort; 28k words; complete; keith-centric)

Keith isn't what most would call a 'people' person, but that doesn't stop him from caring about his team.

aka

Five Times the other Paladins learned something about Keith, and the One Time he learned something about them.

[my bookmarks: fuck. just- fuck.]

Miscommunication Celebration by SleepySsnail

(vld; gen; fluff + hurt/comfort; 4k words; oneshot; keith-centric; birthday fic)

Keith was never too focused on his birthday, but when it rolls around he hopes his team remembers it. When Keith's birthday is full of quality time and fun, he doesn't even question why his friends haven't said "happy birthday" to him.

Or: Where Keith thinks everyone is celebrating his birthday when they really forgot about it.

Keithtober 2019 Day 23: Birthday

avatar: the last airbender:

Change of Address by hearmerory

(atla; gen/zukka; ANGST + fluff + hurt/comfort; 89k words; series (ongoing); zuko-centric; modern au)

A collection of instances in a modern AU of Zuko's shitty childhood, featuring Ozai's dislike of his son's autism and sexuality.

[my bookmarks: FUCK F U C K WHAT THE ACTUAL F U C K.

I CAN'T WITH THIS ANYMORE.]

93 notes · View notes

missinghan · 4 years

Text

countless skies upon me ⤖ lee minho

❖ genre : fantasy; action; fluff; angst

❖ word count : 16,5k.

❖ warnings : explicit language, mentions of blood + violence

❖ summary : when you stumble upon the notoriously skilled swordsman of Kalmburg, your heart finds itself wanting to get closer to his.

❖ a/n : this is the full extension of this blurb that I wrote impulsively after rewatching an old anime, please give swordsman minho a whole lot of love 🖤

prologue.

Minho’s wooden sword gets knocked out of his grasp, landing onto the floor with a loud series of clattering noises. The little boy widens his eyes when the tip of another wooden sword hovers over his stomach and he looks up to be met with the stoic gaze of his mentor.

“What did I tell you yesterday, Minho?”

“That I need to make more progress on improving my reaction time,” he answers grimly and rubs his forearm, head hanging low in shame. “I need to know the timing of the enemy like the back of my hand and use my own timing in which they don’t expect.”

His mentor retreats his sword swiftly, humming, “You got distracted, you weren’t observing my stance before I lunged at you. By narrating the enemy’s preparation, you can partially map out their movements, when and where they’re aiming for. That’s why you were taken aback and this allowed me to disarm you with little effort.”

“But master!” Minho pries stubbornly. “It’s not very fair if an opponent can’t fight with their sword, is it? A sword is supposed to be the coil of a swordsman’s strength. It’s all we’ll ever have.”

A fatherly smile dances on his mentor’s lips this time. “Strength is simply an illusion, there are far more important things,” he places a warm hand on Minho’s shoulder, speaking softly.

“And it doesn’t matter if you still have your sword or not, fighting isn’t an obligation, it’s a choice. A choice whether you’re going to fight until the very end or not.”

one.

Market stalls crowd the route, selling sacks of nuts and dried fruit, grilled meat hanging on lines after lines of roasting skewers. Powdered spices lay in rust red and dusty yellow and bright green piles spill from sacks as large as feed bags. Mixed and familiar scents cut through thin air, people bumping into each other, toes trodden on. Lovers stroll hand in hand, casually browsing whilst housewives hustle and bustle, hollering over background noises for the best price.

Minho ends up walking through the entire market before getting to work that day with an apple in his stomach, silently like a phantom, blending into the sea of people effortlessly.

To him, work is just like another day in the market for stallholders, another pile of weapons needed to be honed and repaired for blacksmiths and another batch of bread to bake early in the morning for bakers.

Except his job is somewhat… questionable and considerably dangerous for a guy who looks nothing like a warrior. At least that’s what he’s been told. Rather pretty-looking eyes being hidden under his long fringe, a high and slim nose bridge, sharp philtrum. He’s not that tall either and doesn’t necessarily have as many muscles as he initially wanted. But the swordsman doesn’t listen to his muscles to fight, he listens to his mind and becomes one with his blade.

There’s no need for a shield or armor, for he thinks they’re doing nothing but getting in his way and slowing him down during combats. Minho draws his sword with no more qualms than a middle-aged lady gossiping about her irritating neighbors and slashes his enemies while thinking about what he’ll be making himself for dinner that day. There’s no joy for him in violence, but he takes extreme pride in a good clean kill. He has a reputation to maintain and that reputation keeps him safe in this world.

A man approaches Minho from behind, leaning himself flat against the wooden bench that the swordsman has situated himself on for the past hour. The guy never makes the first move, that’s what he’s been told.

“Twenty thousand units,” the masked client speaks up, his voice mellow and slightly muffled. “If you can bring back the head of a shadow wolf that’s been lurking around the Dunst forest these days, I’ll double the price. Silver-white fur, brown eyes. Make it quick too, and you can have sixty in total. He’s been eating up one too many of our sheeps already.”

His lips twitch subtly and he crosses his legs, keeping his tone low but clear, “Shadow wolves can’t handle the cold that well, why would one roam around a place with such tremendous decrease in temperature at night?” The sound of coins crashing against each other in the leather pouch suddenly irritates him.

“C’mon, Black Swordsman, how would I know these things? I’m just merely a guy who’s trying to get by in life,” the man chuckles lightheartedly but Minho isn’t finding anything funny. No one ever gets the upper hands in a deal with him. “Look, I heard you’re good at your job and you sure look like you know what you’re doing so why don’t you just take the mon—“

Minho stuffs his hands into his pocket and sighs, “Don’t think so lowly of me, I don’t accept deposits. I’ll only get my money once I’m done with the job. Meet me here tomorrow at noon, sharp. And if I don’t show up, consider locking your sheeps inside.” And with a grin through his flat lips under the mask, the cryptic client leaves Minho alone by the bench, fully satisfied with his attitude and reactions.

The brunet gazes at the space ahead for a good ten seconds, thinking rather deeply about this before waving his hand absentmindedly, calling out to the errand boy who’s been hiding behind the ugly tree. “You can come out now, Jeongin. Did you catch any of that?” he asks without turning around.

“Every single word,” Jeongin cancels the spell that’s been his cover during their entire conversation before stepping out, pursing his lips together. “A guy who’s trying to get by in life but still has twenty thousand to pay you beforehand? Sounds absurd to me.”

“Enough with the brainless chatters, you know what to do,” Minho pushes himself off the bench when his muscles start growing sore on the hardened surface. “If you do a good job, I’ll treat you out for dinner. Now run along, Chaeryeong is probably looking for you, don’t be late to class.”

Jeongin holds him back by the sheath of his sword, “You’re still going to accept the job? I don’t think it’s worth the risk. He’s obviously setting you up.”

“If anything, I might bring his head back instead of the wolf’s,” Minho replies monotonously, and Jeongin lets his hand fall to his side. The swordsman turns on his heels to see concern laced in the younger boy’s eyes, this prompts his voice to soften. “Don’t worry, a single wolf can’t hurt me,” he ruffles his hair before slipping into the crowd again, making his way towards the mountains to enter the Dunst forest.

He wouldn’t mind dying alone, actually. It’s not like he has any regrets.

two.

The city of Kalmburg has it that no one has ever surpassed Lee Minho when it comes to the art of swordsmanship.

“If you’re going to take on a guy who can parry a crossbow bolt with his sword as he’s contending against five other men, it’s time to re-evaluate the direction of your life—preferably while running away as fast as you can.”

The man walks up to the center of the town square every single day at the crack of dawn, his figure fully covered in a big black cloak, the hood thrown lazily over his head. All you can see is the strides he takes with his black combat boots. He almost belongs, but not quite. Kalmburg is known for its dashingly ornamental architecture — a white granite surface with serene spires can be seen from the castle at the top of the hill, soothing atmosphere and generically nice residents. Some say no beauty can be compared to its sunrise due to the dashing sight of a lake situated before the town square’s gate.

Whereas, Lee Minho gives people a stark contrast with his dark aura and the black sword hung firmly on his back. He easily takes in everyone’s attention with a single sweep, his midnight orbs setting on nothing before he leaves as expressionless as he’s entered. His purposes and motives always remain hidden; hence the allure. Though it’s not hard to see how he’s making a good living on a daily basis.

For one, he slays monsters; and for another, he deals with people. Outsiders might be surprised at how many units the Nobles are more than willing to pay him as long as he comes back alive, with the beast’s head limp in his hands. There were times when he’d come back covered in a sea monster’s gastric juice, other times he could barely walk back to the town because his spleens got severely damaged. But most of the time, he’d return as though he just got back from a stroll, outstretching his palm to collect the payment.

Dealing with people is far more troublesome than those deadly creatures, Minho constantly tells himself so. It’s true, after all. Because when careless juveniles aren’t able to snatch their parents’ spare change on the dining table, they decide it’s a brilliant idea to challenge him for a duel. If they win, he’ll have to follow their request without receiving a single penny. But if things go the other way around, they will most likely come home crying for their mother. Such a nuisance.

Today is no different.

Moving into the morning dew is a shadow wolf. His paws kiss the earth not gracefully, but rather with evident difficulties and there’s a ray of exhaustion in that pair of bronzed eyes. The wolf has seen better days. His silver-white fur is thin and it clings to his frame like an old cloak in a gale. Even from several yards away, Minho can count each rib as they’re sticking out, he sees dejection in his movements as if he’s gonna let himself tumble to the ground any moment.

Minho carefully inhales, pulling out a silver dart from the back of his belt. He raises his hand and aims precisely for the pine tree, just a strand of hair away from the wolf’s ear. When he exhales, the weapon comes flying past the creature before embedding itself to the wooden surface.

The wolf whips his head towards the swordsman, locking eyes as he lets out a mere cry of pain, crimson dripping down on the side of his head. As Minho pulls his hood off of his face, slightly dubious that the creature of darkness will turn into a wisp of black smoke to take flight deeper into the forest, the wolf shakes his head before lying down on the soil, unable to coordinate his limbs. Then with his great grey head on his bloodied paws, he closes his eyes. He’s giving up on his life.

“Something’s wrong. Shadow wolves’ blood isn’t supposed to be red,” Minho holds his breath in utter disbelief, taking a step backward. He’s got the wrong target. No, that client scammed him.

A branch snaps.

Minho reaches for his sword when the sound of thin air being ripped apart rings inside his eardrums, two blades coming in contact with each other and he has to squint slightly when tiny sparks of flame come to life between the weapons. Instead of looking at the raider, he quickly deflects their slash again. Hypothetically speaking, there are two possibilities: the first is that both swords are too weak to withstand the pressure of the blow, so they’ll simply break - in the exact same fashion. The second is in which case both blades are durable enough to field the contact, they will bounce right back. But his unwanted guest seems to detest him so much to the point they keep their sword grinding against his until their weapons slip against each other, creating a wave of grating shriek resonating through the woods, dust being thrown in the air.

He stumbles backward, the sole of his shoes tearing the leaves below into bits. His vision shakes a little from the sudden attack before trying to focus on the figure before him. The first thing that he sees is the white wolf on the button of your silver-accent cloak. That’s the royal guards’ emblem.

“You,” the female voice catches him by surprise. “Lay another finger on that wolf now, I dare you.” You know all too well who this man is, and like hell you’re going to let him do what he wants just because of some cheap units.

Minho’s fully aware that his beating heart is thundering inside his chest, but he’s not sure if it’s because of the adrenaline flowing in his veins or those round eyes glaring at him from under the sunlight. He sees the grip on the hilt of your rapier being tightened and that’s when he regains his composure, taking in a deep breath. If he gave up now because of a pretty face with a deadly blade, he’d damn his reputation as a swordsman.

“Oh that wolf is all yours,” he smiles at you fakely, wiping the beads of sweat on his cheekbones away. “But you’re going to have to do better than snooping around on people.”

Minho steadies his grip on his sword, trying to keep himself together in the deafening silence, “So, who’s making the first move now?” The tonal mockery in his voice irks you and he seems to notice that too by the slight smirk tugging at his lips when the muscles on your face twitch.

One. Breathe in.

You’re getting into your stance sideways, your blade eye level. This man doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into.

Two. Breathe out.

Minho isn’t letting his guard down this time despite being slightly impressed with your skills. Usually, there aren’t many girls who take up sword fighting, at least not in his hometown so he thought you’d be sort of a novice. But your dexterity is beyond incredible, he can hardly see the tip of your sword.

Three. “I am.”

You charge first by swinging your rapier at him from above, Minho receiving the clash with the flat of his blade. He circles away from you, keeping his sword in motion while constantly changing his stances and attacks. Rapiers aren’t very suitable for slashing or slicing since the blade is so long and thin, it can only allow its owner more speed, more precise stabs and thrusts but greatly lowers their defense. So if he can just catch you off guard…

When the tip of your sword grazes just above his clothed ribs, Minho’s reflexes kick in and his blade knocks yours away almost immediately. With the bewildered look on your face as a signal, he dodges as you attempt another stab at his left ear. This causes you to trip on your heels, your balance quivering the moment his sword slashes at the button of your cloak rather than your neck. To prevent yourself from falling, you jump and do a backflip safely, breath’s fraying as the piece of clothing is completely ditched by a tree.

“You are strong, just like the rumors,” you breathe out a stoic comment, chest heaving up and down rapidly.

“You aren’t too bad yourself either,” Minho grins; he hasn’t felt this much eagerness to fight someone other than monsters before. In other words, he’s never faced someone who knows what they’re doing with a sword as skilled as you are.

You cock a brow at him, confused, “Why are you smiling?”

“I don’t know, actually,” he shakes his head and hearty waves of laughter bubble up inside his stomach. The brunet sheaths his sword with a loud ‘clunk’, walking towards you to place a warm hand on your shoulder. “But good fight, you really know how to hold a sword.”

“Wait… aren’t we going to finish this?”

Minho picks up your cloak from the ground, outstretching his palm, “You seem like a person who knows what it takes so I don’t think that’d be necessary anymore. But I’d be glad to take you on again?”

This man is baffling you, and not in a good way either. Nonetheless, you still slide your sword back into its sheath and accept his handshake. “So you’re gonna leave that wolf alone right?”

“Only if you tell me what happened to it,” Minho replies firmly, receiving a nod of approval from you. He actually seems like a solid person. Perhaps you can trust him.

“That’s my brother, Chan.”

three.

The forest hums with life all around you. You lift your head ever so slightly when the sunlight slips through the green leaves and branches, lighting up the dirt path ahead decorated with outgrown roots and wildflowers. You gaze up at the fluffs of clouds, searching for the birds that are singing sweetly. Minho trudges on before you a couple of steps, finding the natural fragrance of the current surroundings rather soothing. It’s making his eyes droopy.

“What happened to him again?”

He stretches his limbs tiredly and yawns like there’s no tomorrow, making you scrunch your nose in disapproval. He’s not even paying attention to you. It’s been at least an hour since you’ve mounted an unconscious Chan on your horse — Noir and accepted this cryptic stranger as your guide for now. You’ve never been to this forest more than once so it’s best if you follow him—an experienced individual in order to get your brother back safely.

You frown at him, giving the back of his neck a firm slap while your other hand is holding onto the rein. “Ow, what was that for?!” he yelps.

“You weren’t listening, were you?”

“Remotely,” he hums out a reply, “I didn’t sleep that well last night.” And that’s when you notice the dark spots under his eyes, the occasional tears whenever he squints his eyes under the sunlight. The job’s more draining and demanding than you thought.

To be fair, slaying monsters and getting your hands bloodied might not be the best thing to do to a degree of morality but you really can’t judge him when you’ve only known him for a few hours. Minho’s far younger than you’d expected too. You’ve had your strolls downtown from time to time with your fellow royal guards and it’s not hard for rumors to fly. People were gasping and bouncing on the balls of their feet talking about this mysterious swordsman who’s dressed completely in black, a single one-handed sword, no shield, and no armor. They really had you thinking he was an old man in his forties who has no regrets, just trying to get by in life no matter what it takes.

And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him charming the moment you saw that handsome face under the big cloak.

“He was recovering from a business trip so our mage decided to treat him with a special potion,” you nibble on your bottom lip, looking over at your worn out brother sideway in concern. You’ve wrapped his injuries up with some of the cloth that you’d packed before leaving this morning, he should be fine. “I guess something went wrong; hence, he’s magically turned into a wolf, panicked and bolted out of the castle. And you know how cruel people can be sometimes…”

“Oh, sorry about that,” Minho feels a big lump in his throat when you secretly toss a glare at his direction. “I should have known something was off the moment he started bleeding red.” He shakes his head, highly disappointed in himself for mistaking Chan as a shadow wolf. His professional etiquette forbids him ever repeat the same mistake.

You stop dead in your track, cocking your head at him in confusion, “What do you mean?”

Wait, no, something’s wrong. Something’s terribly wrong. It can’t be that simple. “You’re still going to accept the job? I don’t think it’s worth the risk. He’s obviously setting you up.” His steps come to a halt, only a few feet away from you and before you can even tap him out of it, Minho snaps his head back, grabbing you by the shoulders. “Tell me, when you first entered the forest, did you encounter any wolves? Even just one?”

“N-No, I don’t think so,” you stutter, slightly flustered at the sudden decrease in proximity. But you soon shake the heat on your cheekbones away when he lets go of you, pacing back and forth to think hard about something. “Uhh- what are you-”

“Shh shh..”

“Did you just shush me-” The wind whistles in your ears and you stumble backward when Minho draws his sword, the blade coming in contact with something hard and deflecting it successfully. Your jaw is locked at the sight of an arrow sticking to a tree not very far off. That could have been your head instead...He just saved your life.

“Someone’s coming, take cover.”

Minho carefully tugs your horse over to a nearby slope when you hop off the main pathway, waving him over to a big tree. You both get down on one knee as the sound of armors crashing against each other grows louder, dreadful footsteps becoming more detectable. Swiftly, Minho notices the color of your bright blue cloak can easily be detected right through the bush and clicks his tongue in annoyance. He unbuttons his black coat, silently draping it over your smaller figure. For a second there, you widen your eyes at him but soon ensconcing yourself obediently under the leather fabric.

Stepping into your vision are two familiar faces, Minho’s breath almost hitches in his throat when he realizes they’re clothed in the same blue and white uniform as yours. Both equally emitting the same hostility and mettle—as expected from the astute royal guards.

“Hyun-”

You stagger backward when Minho clasps a firm hand over your mouth, shaking his head while you’re giving him a ‘what are you doing?’ look. The moment you manage to peel yourself away from his grip, your fellow colleagues are nowhere to be seen. They must be looking for you since you left the castle this morning without a proper announcement. “What was that about?! They’re my friends, now if you’d excuse me-”

“They aren’t the most trust-worthy people right now,” he lets out a sigh. “Think about it. They’re parts of the few people who could possibly see Chan the day before he turned into a wolf. And I’m sure the royal mage wouldn’t have such a reason to spike the commander of the guards. I don’t see how it’d benefit her if Chan was to take a break from his position. On the other hand…”

Is he accusing one of your friends of harming your brother? And for what too? A higher rank in the team? Preposterous! “Why would I trust you then, Black Swordsman?”

Minho cringes inwardly at the nickname because good gracious, it’s so unoriginal. He’s heard about plenty of Black Swordsmen before during his wandering all over the Continent. They’re basically cryptic-looking swordsmen dressed in black...people really need to come up with more colorful monikers.

“Because I just saved your life from those people whom you called ‘friends’,” he blinks at you bluntly and the hand resting on the hilt of your sword tenses up.

You take in a deep breath, slowly considering his deductions. It’s not like he doesn’t have a point but you don’t understand as to why Hyunjin or Changbin would want to overtake your brother, they’ve only become a part of the royal guards four years ago. You might not grow up together but after going on plenty of adventures and living in the palace, you’re practically family.

Still, humans are made of greed after all.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you exhale. “You’re going to help me figure this out for throwing a dart at Chan’s ear. But if you even think about hurting him or make a single move that prompts me to think you’re doing something behind our back, I’m going to tear out your spine with my bare hands.”

Minho chuckles at your threatening tone, slightly scared for his life, “There’s no need to worry, miss…” You raise a brow at him when he trails off rather flusteredly. “Ma’am? No- uh, vice commander? What about lady…”

“The name’s Y/N,” you can’t help but break into a fit of giggles, amused at his sudden discomposure. Seems like this man has been chit-chatting with monsters more than having civil conversations with other human beings for his whole life. “And would you get your hands off me now? We don’t have to hide anymore.”

His chest swells a bit at that if he’s being honest.

four.

“Aren’t we supposed to be at the castle?” Minho looks at the log house before his eyes questioningly. Not that he’s complaining, he doesn’t think it’s the best idea for him to show up in front of royalties either.

You pull off your hood and say, “No, the royal mage doesn’t live there.” After a few knocks with your knuckles on the wooden door, hurried footsteps are audible from inside the house—whoever’s in there must be dying to see you, Minho thinks.

“Yeji, how are y—“ The door flies open and a figure thrashes against you faster than a lightning bolt, their arms wrapped around your torso, rubbing your back tenderly. You’re slightly taken aback but smile nonetheless knowing that your friend was worried sick like she’s always been. “Hello to you too, stupid.”

This prompts Minho to avert his gaze away awkwardly, the grip on Noir’s reign tightening evidently and your horse lets out a small neigh, nudging her nose against his side like she’s attempting to appease him. He murmurs a small ‘thank you’, hand reaching upward to brush through her shiny black coat. Shaking his head, he snickers at himself for talking to a horse.

Yeji mumbles against your neck in relief, like someone’s just lifted a weight off her shoulders, “Good gracious, Y/N! Are you okay? You just left without saying anything. Changbin and Hyunjin said they couldn’t find you in the woods and Chan’s gone missing for a few days now and I got so worried I-”

“Slow down, Yeji,” you give her a firm squeeze in reassurance, chuckling. “It’s barely been a day. I did manage to find Chan, surprisingly, thanks to Minho, well, partly.”

“Who’s Minho?” she pulls away to get a good look at the man standing next to your horse, eyes widening in surprise. Dressed in black, one-handed sword, no shield, and armor. “Is that the Black Swordsman? Like the Lee Minho? He’s the real thing?”

You grit through a stiff smile, “As real as it can get.”

“Huh, and I thought he’d be some old, balding man in his forties,” Yeji comments while eyeing the swordsman up and down, making him somewhat uncomfortable. “He knows how to use a sword, is young and quite the looker too. Ohh I see what’s going on here..”

You warn her with a clap on her forearm, “You’re embarrassing me in front of that jerk.”

However, she ignores you and pushes the door open, motioning for Minho to carry Chan inside. “Move quickly now, Black Swordsman, I suppose Chan’s condition must be critical, his heartbeat and the blood flow in his veins is increasing at an alarming speed.”

Minho looks around in awe when he steps into the log house—there’s not much for him to say about the house. Furniture is self-explanatory enough: a single bed, a comfortable chair made with what seems to be one of the finest materials, a wooden shelf above the fireplace with an array of potions with different shades and colors, windows completely covered with curtains. It’s not much, but it does feel homey. He would be able to find a place like this with ease if he hadn’t wasted all of his money into information dealing and weapons trading.

“It’s nice, isn’t it? The house, I mean.”

Yeji’s question snaps him out of it. And he looks over at the table where Chan’s lying, immobile and his bronzed eyes droopy and his breaths mingling. There’s a strange, bright light pulsing from the mage’s fingertips when she hovers her palm over Chan’s bloodied ear. Minho watches as the light flickers from a shade of white to blue, enveloping the open wound and heals it completely. He meets Yeji’s eyes before she pulls her hand back, her eyes glowing gold before turning back into a deep brown. The art of magic is truly fascinating.

Minho manages to blurt, slightly flustered, “What?”

“You said the house’s nice, I simply agreed with that statement for it is true,” she briskly reaches for a flask, inside holds a soft green-colored liquid with golden specks floating around.

“I didn’t say anything,” he frowns at her when she brings the rim of the flask to Chan’s mouth, pouring the odd-looking liquid down his throat.

You speak up from behind her, arms crossed in front of your chest, “Yeji, stop reading people’s mind that’s creepy.”

“Okay I’ve got everything I need for the potion that’ll manage to turn Chan back into his human form,” Yeji tells you while rummaging through her wooden cabinets filled with bottles after bottles, grabbing some along the way as she comes back to the table. “But I’m missing some crystals. And I’m not talking about those fake ones that you see at the stores, the ones I need are way towards the north, in Drachens Hohle, on the Restless Cliffs.”

Minho hums, brows knitted together, thinking rather thoroughly about this. “Drachens Hohle is pretty far off, it might take us an entire day to get there, and then another day climbing those cliffs...we might need to pass by a store of a friend of mine to pack some stuff since I suppose you won’t be returning to the castle anytime soon. We’ll get moving as soon as possible,” he mumbles and nods to himself, satisfied with the plan.

“Let me just make one thing clear here, Black Swordsman…”

He screws his eyes shut when air suddenly gets ripped apart, only opening them slowly after and almost flinches at the tip of a dagger pointed directly at his nose; one wrong move and his eye will be gone. Minho doesn’t know what should startle him more—the blade gleaming with a bright shade of yellow or the dark look in Yeji’s eyes when he meets them. He’s seen Chaeryeong do it many times before—incorporating magic with weapons, to better the damage output while maintaining the defensive factors.

“If you lay just one single finger on my friend, I'm going to turn you into a mere, pathetic, little sparrow and lock you in a cage along with other pieces in my collection.”

Minho panics, feeling nauseous at the thought, “What collection?”

The mage withdraws her knife and laughs it off, “I was messing around with you, there’s no collection. Look after her for me, she can be quite clumsy sometimes.”

“The clumsy one here is you,” you mumble bitterly in the corner, extremely embarrassed for the sake of your friend. You might as well dig a hole and bury yourself in it.

Unexpectedly, the wooden door is once again pushed open, two men barging into the log house abruptly. You and Yeji remain still in your current positions while Minho touches the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it. “Don’t bother, they’re friends,” you wave at him absentmindedly before pushing yourself off the chair, walking over to the front door.

“Y/N, where have you been?!”

“Hello to you too, Bin.”

Changbin pushes past Hyunjin and jabs his index finger at you, eyes filled with both rage and concern. “What were you thinking? If you’re going to find Chan, we’re going with you. We’re a team and he’s our brother too! Don’t you remember? That was an irresponsible and childish action to do, you’d better have a good explanation for this. If you’re going to do something, at least act your role in the team more properly.”

Hyunjin pulls him back by the arm, shaking his head, “Changbin, stop. There’s no point in arguing. What’s most important is she’s gotten back safely.”

You eye both of your teammates back and forth, skepticism and uncertainty rising from the pit of your stomach. If what Minho said was true, then the culprit must be one of them. Or was he lying to you, trying to mess with your mind in order to achieve a personal goal of some sort? After all, you’ve only met him today yet you’ve known Changbin and Hyunjin for years now, why would you even hesitate to choose your friends over a total stranger?

“I wasn’t alone.” Changbin pauses at your words. “He was with me, this is-”

“Lee Minho.” You gape at your friend in disbelief.

Minho’s hand pulls away from his sword, a strange glint flashes in his eyes for a moment there. “It’s good to see you’re doing well, Changbin,” he says with difficulties, clearly not knowing how to act.

“Why were you with her?” Hostility washes over the atmosphere when Changbin croaks out, fists clenching in anger. “Y/N, what were you doing with a scumbag like him? Haven’t you heard enough rumors about this guy? People like him only care about themselves, they’ll just end up hurting you in the end. There’s no good in letting him stick around.”

When you squint your eyes at him, Changbin takes long strides towards you, grabbing your wrist and attempting to pull you away. “Yeji, please take care of Chan for the time meaning and we’ll be heading back to the castle. Y/N can’t just leave when we need her the most.“

Minho tugs you back towards him and voices firmly, “I’m sorry, but your vice commander belongs to me now. I’ll be responsible completely for her security and escort her with all my respects. You’ll simply have to make do without her for some days.”

Changbin lunges for Minho’s collar, anguish seething inside his chest. “Insolent bastard! On what basis do you think you have the right to protect her? You might not be a threat, but you’d better stop pretending to be a hero.”

“A hero? Like you?” He shouldn’t have said that.

Hyunjin looks rather concerned, rubbing his friend’s shoulders, “Changbin, we should go.”

“Seo Changbin, Hwang Hyunjin,” you step in between them in disquiet, shoving Changbin away. “As vice commander of the royal guards, I will be coming with Lee Minho in the next few days on an important trip and I stand by my own decision. If my absence causes the team any trouble, I’ll be more than happy to receive the punishment from our superiors. You two are to return to the castle until further notice, continuing on with your service for the king and queen.”

“As we should,” Hyunjin smiles at you sweetly before walking over to Chan, giving the wolf a small pat on the head. In return, Chan lets out a displeased growl but it’s too small to notice. Minho watches the guard from afar, suspecting the strange glint in his eyes. He decides to say nothing about it.

“I’ve already warned you about him, don’t come crying for me when things go wrong.” With that, both of the royal guards excuse themselves out of the log house—Changbin shutting the door angrily after Hyunjin bidding you goodbye with a hug. This makes your heart heavy for not being able to trust them. You still don’t understand as to why, but you have a sudden faith in Minho, your intuitions are telling you that you should trust him.

Softly, you ask, “You know Changbin?”

“He’s an old friend, we haven’t talked in a while,” Minho shifts uncomfortably in his chair, finding the topic rather awkward to talk about. “We didn’t get along that well back then either. Glad to see nothing has changed.”

You shouldn’t have asked him in the first place.

five.

A wide variety of shops lined the streets of downtown Kalmburg: antique and art stalls, jewelry, and accessory shops, luxury boutiques, souvenir kiosks and stores selling leather goods, all showcasing an array of the finest wares in the area. Tourists flock to them like fireflies to a lamp, enthusiasm accentuating their features. The silvery melody of the drawl of sightseers and the strong, distinct accents of the locals drift through your ears as they amble by.

You follow Minho to the very end of the streets with your cloak draped over Chan’s limp body. No one needs to know why there’s an unconscious wolf on the back of your horse. Alas, you both arrive in front of an old wooden door, the mahogany color fading as a result of time. He told you that he needed to pass by a friend’s place but doesn’t this place look a bit fishy-

“Five hundred units for ten bags of Philenor powder, and you’re good to go!”

A blond-haired boy peeks out from a client behind the counter. “Well if it isn’t my least favorite customer,” he voices cheerfully.

“That’s because I’m smart enough to not buy any of your shit, Jisung,” Minho walks in with a grin, pitifully eyeing the dreadful-looking man who’s taking heavy strides out of the shop. He’ll learn someday. “Still running your greedy business as usual I see.”

The dealer named Jisung returns the sarcastic remark with a gummy smile, bumping his fist against Minho’s in a brotherly way. “Don’t speak so ill of me, will you? This greedy business is housing you,” he retorts, “I suppose you’re going to hog my place tonight as you always do, Black Swordsman?” So turns out he spends his night slumbers in this old crusty shop, no wonder people think he sleeps in the woods since they’ve never run into him outside of the town square before.

“Actually, I won’t be in town for tonight,” Minho’s answer catches Jisung off guard. “I’m heading north, to the Restless Cliffs.”

“Another life-risking business trip huh. You’re going to need warm clothes, some supplement, and probably some medicine too,” Jisung hums to himself. “Hey, Felix! Get your butt over here and sharpen a sword!”

You detach your rapier from your belt and take a few steps forward before placing it onto the counter. “Uhh, can you perhaps do the same thing for my sword? I’m coming with him,” you try to appear as friendly, not wanting to startle him.

But to your dismay, “Y-You’re one of the th-the royal guards!”

The younger boy looks over at you, utterly bewildered when he sees the emblem on your uniform. His eyes look like they’re about to pop out of their socket any second now. As if to fuel the fire, Minho jerks his head towards the direction of Noir, speaking casually, “Also, ask Chaeryeong to take care of the wolf and the horse for me. Tell her to be gentle too, the wolf is hurt and confused. Don’t let him drink potions that aren’t tested beforehand.”

“You brought injured animals to my shop?!”

“One more thing, I need to see Jeong-”

Jisung has to manually shut him up by swinging an arm over his neck, forcing his friend to tumble over the wooden counter, their cheeks pressed against each other. He’s practically spitting into Minho’s face at this point. “What in the world is an outcast, stubborn-headed of a loner like you doing out here with a royal guard?! Didn’t you say that having other people coming along would only get in the way? I thought you worked alone! What’s the deal man?”

“Ahaha, it’s a long story. You see-”

“Excuse my discourtesy for I haven’t introduced myself properly yet,” Jisung stops and averts his gaze over to you, soon letting go of Minho when you flash him a crooked smile. “My name is Y/N, second in command of the royal guards and I’ll be stuck with this dimwit for a while, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Jisung reciprocates your bow, the look in his eyes softening a bit, “And I’m Han Jisung, freelance dealer, single, I’m looking for a—“ Minho finds it irksome how his friend is already out and about, starting a proper conversation without almost getting killed by you so his fist moves on its own, jabbing against the blond’s stomach, forcing air out of his mouth with a low grunt.

“Don’t mind him,” he turns sideways to reassure you, holding back the twitching muscles on his face. “He’s a decent person, despite how creepy he can be sometimes.” Jisung then elbows him harshly as a payback, making a scene when they start wrestling with each other like a bunch of toddlers. This makes you snort involuntarily, the Black Swordsman isn’t as fully-fledged as what’s been told around the public.

“Kids, that’s enough,” you tell them after making a grab for one of your pouches on Noir’s back. “Minho, why don’t you go meet up with the blacksmith? And Jisung, do you perhaps have a kitchen that I can borrow?”

While Minho’s mumbling something under his breath, hugging both of his and your sword to his chest to make his way behind the counter, Jisung nods at you, lifting a curtain next to a shelf full of weapons, gems, crystals, and potions that leads you down a dark, narrow hallway. “It’s not much,” he says and lights a candle so none of you would trip over each other. “But I hope it helps.”

“Don’t even, doing all of this for a stranger like me is incredibly generous of you,” you say humbly, not wanting to take anything for granted. “I’ll definitely return the favor when I come back.”

Jisung stops walking all of a sudden, causing you to almost bump into his back. “Is that so? Then, uhh…” he scratches the nape of his neck sheepishly. “How do I say this..? I know Minho can be irrational sometimes, loves pretending like he doesn’t care, and always runs into fire. So please..” His throat starts growing dry as he lowers his head a bit, attempting to bow at you.

“Take care of him for me, will you?”

You smile at the blond-haired boy, warmth flaring through your rib cage like butterflies, “I assure you he’s in good hands.”

six.

That night, you and Minho spend the whole night, the next morning, and the afternoon walking barefooted from Kalmburg to a small village at the base of the Restless Cliffs called Drachens Hohle. And it’s anything but Kalmburg. Rustic cabins dot the grassy hills as trees stand up like spikes, zigzagging the border of brick roads and unpolished homes. Rivers stream through deep valleys. The town is as complex as the heart, the streets are the veins, paved with red stones and the people are the heart. They look like they don’t own much, but are willing to share everything and anything. It’s the smiles on their faces, the way they greet each other, the sound of weapons and breastplates being pounded into shape that shows you just how alive this small community can be.

The motel Minho chooses looks like one of those places where men with beer guts would be snooping around with their neighbor’s wife, paying by the hour; a place where random hookers and drug-dealers would thrive. There are external wooden stairs that lead to a second floor, the second row of doors, that looks like the building inspector was either bribed to pass it or drunk on the job. You insist on finding a better place than this rat-hole but Minho said you don’t have to waste a couple of extra pennies just so the beds can be softer.

After dinner, you both receive your own keys before going upstairs to your respective rooms. A dingy place like this isn’t able to provide much when it comes to furniture anyway so there’s only a plain bed with pillows and a blanket, a nightstand with a pitch of water, and a small candle beside it. You sigh while casting your eyes around the room one last time. It’s just for one night.

“Y/N,” Minho gives your door a few knocks. “Are you asleep yet? I have something to tell you.”

You’re still halfway done with unpacking your stuff so you try to yell back without turning on your heels, “Not yet, just come in. I didn’t lock the door.”

He hums as a response before pushing against the wooden surface, closing it with a small ‘click’ after. “I just ran into the mayor downstairs,” Minho starts speaking and that’s when you finish putting your sword away, turning to look at him. And your cheeks inevitably grow hot since the first thing you have to lay your poor eyes on is his collarbones. This bastard really has the audacity to keep his buttons anywhere but a degree of appropriation.

“Hey, focus,” he snaps his fingers as an attempt to knock you out of your trance, not noticing how he’s obviously the distraction. “It took an hour for him after rambling about his childhood and his love for the village to finally spill something about the kind of crystal that we need. At least pretend like you’re paying attention, will you?”

“I was paying attention,” you mumble loud enough for yourself to hear it. What a white lie.

Minho quirks a brow and leans himself against the wall, looking amused, “Hmm, sure you did. Now, where were we? Ah! The mayor said those things aren't very hard to find, the only problem is that the field where they grow is right in front of a dragon’s den. No one has ever made it back in one piece. Chances are there might be other random monsters on the way…”

Suddenly he stops talking, confusing you. “What’s wrong-“

The stiff look on his face seals your lips almost immediately. Faster than a lightning bolt, Minho turns the doorknob and rushes outside. “Who’s there?!” he snaps at the hooded figure running towards the end of the dark hallway, reaching for the sword on his back only to realize it’s not there. “Shit, this isn’t good.”

“Someone was eavesdropping. We’ve got ourselves a spy.” You close the door again after Minho walks inside, facepalming himself onto your bed dreadfully.

He supports himself upward on his forearms and runs a hand through his hair, “Look, I’m not saying this because I’m doubting your abilities, I just want to guarantee your safety as much as I can. Their motives and patterns are getting pretty much unpredictable.” When he looks straight into your eyes with his warm, brown ones, your heart dips ever so gently. “Would you mind if I were to spend the night in your room?”

Your lips grow agape, your jaw almost drops to the floor. No one has ever asked to spend the night in the same room as you, not even Ryujin—your closest friend out of all the royal guards. Heck, you’ve barely known this man for a good three days yet why is it that your heart didn’t even hesitate? Are you scared? Most definitely not. Then what is it? What’s this weird, fuzzy feeling that’s been stirring inside your stomach for who knows how long?

“.....fine, but don’t try anything.”

Your heart is being weak again.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

You place your hands on either side of your hip when Minho comes back from his room with his pillows and blanket scattered all over the floor, organizing them neatly with his sword leaning against your nightstand. He flickers his eyes upward to look at your judgmental ones, slightly shaking from the cold and nervousness. “I’m getting comfortable?” he tells you, blinking innocently.

Shaking your head at Minho, you snatch the pillow from his hands and situate it on your bed, right beside your own. “Hurry up now before I change my mind,” you decide after some time of consideration. The floor doesn’t look necessarily clean, and it’s not like Jisung would pack any extra clothes for him to change into. You’re just being nice like any normal, civil human being would. You’re sharing a bed with a stranger, nothing out of the ordinary.

“Oh, I’m good,” Minho scratches his head with a sheepish smile. “The floor is fine for me.” Although the cheap material of the mattress does look more convincing than the hard, cement surface.

You squint your eyes at him skeptically, “Are you sure?” He then puts his hands up in defeat as though you’re pointing a knife at his throat and motions for you to scoot over with a wave of his hand. You both shuffle around after he slips into the blanket with you, shifting until you’re facing the wall while Minho’s staring awkwardly at the front door. Well, this is kinda nice, he thinks to himself when your back brushes over his every now and then.

“Uhh, sleep tight, I guess?” Minho says before leaning over the nightstand to blow out the candle.

“Goodnight to you too,” you spew out your last words of the day, deciding to keep your lips close before you embarrass yourself any further. Okay...maybe one last thing before you completely pass out. “Uhm, Minho?”

He replies softly, “Yeah?” Seems like he can’t fall asleep either.

Minho tosses himself over the moment you move your body and this causes your faces to be inches apart, his warm breath fanning your cheeks. Although you can’t see him clearly due to the limited source of light, those round eyes are definitely piercing right through you, leaving your heart pounding faster than usual.

“Can you tell me…” you nibble on your bottom lip hesitantly. “What happened between you and Changbin? You guys weren’t being very civil for old friends.”

When he shifts slightly again to face the ceiling, his arm brushes against yours but he does nothing about it. He likes the lingering warmth from the tips of your fingers.

You watch in awe as Minho stares up at nothing, broken bits of sadness floating softly inside his irises like an unwanted scar from his past; it’s tragically beautiful. “It was years ago when this whole monster hunting thing started,” he starts calmly, finding it hard to not look at you. “I wasn’t alone, Changbin was there with me too.”

Then, he continues, not knowing that you’re widening your eyes at him, “We were in an assault team, traveling all over the Continent and making a living out of slaying those creatures. We didn’t have much back then, but we had each other. Unfortunately, everyone has their own secrets despite our promise of not hiding anything from each other. Changbin was planning on leaving the group to go on a different path, and I...I would secretly sneak out alone every night, throwing myself into danger, thinking that I wasn’t good enough…Truth is, I was just being selfish.” His voice trails off, trembling as if each word pains him, like a thousand arrow wounds straight into his heart.

Bitter. Unforgiving. Pain.

“I knew that I was lying to them, that I should just leave without saying anything,” Minho swallows hard like someone’s stepping on him, forcing air out of his lungs mercilessly.

“But I never belonged anywhere, they were all that I had—my only family. I longed for that warmth, that feeling of being at ease so I just, I couldn’t leave. One day, we were hired to clear out a dungeon through an anonymous letter. It raised some skepticisms in my head since I’ve gone there before, there was nothing, no monsters, no nothing. Even so, I was held back by my own cowardice, I was afraid they might question me. I didn’t stop them when they accepted the job, it was good money.”

Your voice fails you when you open your mouth to say something, so you wordlessly slips your hand into his, hoping that you’ll be able to convey some of your heat to his cold fingers. As if feeling encouraged by your action, he doesn’t push you away and regains his composure.

“Turns out, my intuitions were right, we got scammed,” Minho says. “A group full of criminals attacked, wanting to keep all of our money for their own. We cooperated and gave them everything, yet that wasn’t enough. They needed to seal our lips for good….Only Changbin and I made it out alive, three mobsters from the gang died under my blade that day. I confessed to Changbin later on, he didn’t forgive me. I couldn’t forgive myself either, the only family I’d ever have was gone, my arrogance and pride killed them.”

Silently, you pull him towards you, caressing the back of his head like he’s gonna fall apart the moment you let him go. Minho’s breath hitches in his throat as he sees you wear a smile on your face, your starry eyes twinkling when moonlight slips through the crack of the wood-lined window, pieces of glass chipping off on the edges. You’re breathtaking, unearthly.

“I’m not going to die, I know that you’ll protect me just fine.” There’s a wide-eyed expression on his face, his lips falling open but his words die in his throat. A tear unknowingly rolls down on his cheek, consequently blurring his vision with waves of sadness that only the broken would encounter. You let him nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck, his fists grabbing at your shirt until his knuckles turn white.

Minho cries into your chest unceasingly, “I don’t have any real strength. Without my sword, without the anonymity that has been casting terror and curiosity on people, I’m just Lee Minho, the coward who only ever knows how to run away and hide behind the shadow of the Black Swordsman. Changbin was right, I don’t have any right to even think about protecting you.”

“My father used to tell me,” you stroke his hair gently as choked sobs punch through him, pulling him back from the opening arms of his grief. “Strength is simply an illusion, there are far more important things.”

He stops for a moment, nostalgia hurling him back to the memories of two decades ago when he was still just a boy, training hard with his wooden sword while someone watched him from afar, a pleased look lingering on their lips. Tears pool in his eyes again when that person’s face flashes inside his mind but the hollow space inside his heart isn’t the same, there’s a ray of joy that’s managed to make its way through a crack of his walls.

“And I don’t care if you’re the Black Swordsman or not, I only know the cryptic-looking guy who crossed swords with me and wasn’t willing to back down that day. I knew, I just knew that even without a sword, you could have beaten me. Because fighting isn’t an obligation, it’s a choice. A choice whether you’re going to fight until the very end or not.”

His tears can’t extinguish what has happened, yet only carry him forward until a time comes when that searing pain is distant enough to forget rather than remembering. And maybe one day, it might erase itself from his conscience for good. So perhaps it’s not much of an oddity to thank the salty liquid streaming down on his cheekbones. They’re a living proof for his morality, a barrier to save him from becoming a monster—indifferent to suffering and sorrow.

Minho sees the fatherly smile on his mentor’s face, just like the old days. And then he sees you through his blurred vision, momentarily breathless at how close you are.

“After all, I have a promise to keep,” you tell him but it comes out more like a reminder for yourself. “I won’t let you die even when I’m no longer capable of picking up my sword and I mean it. As vice commander of the royal guards, you have my words, Lee Minho.”

An ignited desire wells up at the bottom of his heart, and it baffles him. Lee Minho, a coward who’s willing to turn his back on everyone just so he alone can exist. A bastard who betrayed his only friends, who didn’t even try to plead for forgiveness, who coldly walked away from those painful memories. Such a self-absorbed being like him doesn’t deserve a simple ally, let alone something much more intimate than that.

Then he starts to remember why he’s here, with you. Your smile. Your voice. Memories are flooding back into his head about this girl who made her way into his life abruptly yet so easily. And before he knows it, she’s all that’s on his mind.

So instead of giving in to his nightmares like he would every other night, Minho stops reminiscing his bloodied past, surrendering under the sense of familiarity radiating off your touch.

seven.

You both stand in awe as the great mountains loom before your eyes, cold grey crevices holding the blood of the fallen. While the lower passes wear a cloak of greenery, the peaks are crowned with a headdress of ice. As though the earth has a pulse, it rises through the mountains, creating their bold silhouette. From carved rocky outcrops, waterfalls drifting like skeins of white lawn, and in the fields, you can see the amber glint of the rivers and the occasional mirror-like flash of the lake.

The mountains soar upward like they wish to plant a soft kiss on heaven, wanting to have a taste of the horizon all around. The path ahead winds as effortlessly as a blanket laid on a bed, yet each step feels heavier than the previous one, draining your energy. It only gets steeper and narrower as you make your way closer to the top, but giving up is not an option. You’re willing to go to the other side of the world barefooted, searching for every corner, every edge of this planet if it means bringing your brother back.

A gust of wind howls in the distance, piling up snow in drifts, blinding your eyesight with ice-white dust. You try walking, bending over against the cold, protecting your eyes with your clothed forearms. Everything looms into your vision before vanishing completely, swallowed in white. “Minho?” you call out to him after a few minutes of not looking forward, waving one of your hands around until it can feel something.

Another hand reaches for yours, and you snap out of your daze when the coldness on the tips of his fingers is clasped against your palm. “You’re as slow as a baby turtle,” he comments lamely while staring ahead, not letting you see the coral shade scattered across his cheeks. “Let’s just hurry up and get back, I’m hungry.”

Breath pale against the numbing air, you blink thoughtfully while gazing down at the sight of his fingers being intertwined with yours as the frost patiently kisses your face. He’s still wearing the same old pair of fingerless gloves, no wonder his hands are freezing. But you suppose it’s because he doesn’t want the grip on his sword to slip.

“Oh, I actually have something for us to eat,” you retract your hand to fish it inside your bag, already missing his warmth. “I guess we should have lunch, either way, we’ve been walking before the sun even rose.”

Minho makes a noise of confusion before bringing his steps to a halt, turning his head to see you pull out something being wrapped neatly in paper, giving it a slight jerk towards his direction when he continues to stare at you blankly. Wordlessly, he takes it and sighs, eyes widening when the smell of grilled meat invaded his nostrils. Inside the wrapper is a sandwich made from thinly sliced bread, generously stuffed with meat and vegetables. The peppery aroma inevitably makes his stomach rumble and without another word, Minho chomps on his lunch portion like a hungry child; the sandwich is long gone before he realizes it.

“It’s...good,” he licks his lips to clean up the remaining sauce in the corners of his mouth. It doesn’t look any different from the ones he’s seen inside restaurants but the taste is what reminds him of something he ate as a kid, he almost teared up while inhaling it. “Where did you buy this? I’ll make sure to pass by the place when we get back.”

“I didn’t buy it,” you stride ahead of him to hide the giddiness in your stomach. “I made it yesterday at Jisung’s place. That’s why the bread got a little soggy if you couldn’t tell already.”

Minho fixes his collar and his hearty laughs echoes through your eardrums, stirring up feelings inside your stomach unabating. “You would make a fortune out of these,” he tells you while trying to catch up, following your steps in a hassle. “But now that I‘m thinking about it again, you shouldn’t do that, I’d hate to see people getting to enjoy the same food as me with some cheap units.”

You blush (out of anger) at his statement and attempt to cover it up by stepping onto his toes. This causes him to yelp while stumbling backward, almost falling onto his bottom. “Why did you feel the need to do that?!”

“I can just make you more if you like it that much, you jerk,” you murmur mostly to yourself but he hears it nonetheless.

A smile makes its way to his lips, and a fuzzy feeling bubbles up inside his stomach. He’s not sure what it is, but he’s not complaining, really. It’d be nice if he could have the same delicious meals when he’d retired, dozing off while watching the sunset with his significant other and his own kids in his arms. It’d be nice if he could have a place to come back to when he needs a break, a shoulder to lean on and someone to tuck him into bed. It’d be nice if… He looks at you again after those shameless thoughts and immediately, embarrassment dusts his cheeks pink. His face feels hot despite the puffs of cold air escaping his lips.

“Hey,” Minho pulls you to a stop by the hand, suddenly giving it a squeeze. “I just wanted to say thank you…” A glint of anticipation gleams in your gaze when you both lock eyes, prompting him to look away. “Thank you, for...the meal, it was nice. I might as well bother you a little longer to eat more good food.” Lee Minho you coward.

“Do you only think about your stomach?“ you almost gawk at him, raising your hand to give him a slap in the face but Minho grabs your hand before you can do so. The next thing you know, his other hand is on the top of your head, ruffling your hair in a playful manner.

He tells you and trudges on, grinning to himself, “Let’s get moving, we’re wasting time.”

“....Minho?”

“Hmm?” he turns around with a lovesick smile on his face but that’s not what you’re paying attention to.

“You might want to look out for that…”

“For what-“

Minho swallows heavily when he sees an enormous figure overhanging his shadow on the white snow. Slowly, his gaze follows the sound of faint yet sturdy footsteps and he holds his breath, eyes twice as white as before.

“Just to be clear…” he asks breathlessly. “Dragons are nocturnal, right?”

“Correct,” you subconsciously take a step back. “And we might have woken it up.”

Minho takes notice in the thick stripe of black streaking down on one of its claws, and his face morphs into a frown when his surroundings reek off the smell of fresh blood. “No, someone else did.”

The dragon’s scales gleam dashingly in the sunlight, they are its pride and delight, violet streaks blending into a deep blue at the end. Its teeth so cold and sharp like icicles, they can easily rip any armors into mere ribbons of skin and bones. In its chest holds a hearth of ever flickering flame although the remorseless heart remains rime. Eyes with a shade of crimson as deep as the liquid that’s coursing through your veins, nourishing you; those eyes are seemingly endless pools of wisdom and intelligence.

But once those red pupils dilate and focus on the two mundane mortals before themselves, a glint of gold is suddenly evident, almost alarmed. The dragon takes off into the air with its wings stretched leathery like a bat, sending a small snowstorm flying towards the both of you. Minho squints his eyes hard while you’re shielding your vision with your forearms, coats fluttering as wind whistles into your ears.

Minho calmly takes a step forward, flashing you a smile sideways. What is he doing?

Then, he spares you one last glance before drawing his sword. As though triggered by the sound of metal scraping against the leather sheath, the dragon flaps its majestic wings and inhales, heaps of glowing embers come swirling in midair, twirling towards Minho with a fiery dance. He’s just simply there, feet planted firmly on the ground as though challenging the creature’s deadly breath.

“Minho, what are you doing?!” you yell at him, trying to keep your balance as the ground begins to tremble. “Get out of there!!”

Pretending not to listen to your warnings, Minho gets into his stance, blade angling low with his knees. What happens next downright baffles you. The blade of his sword glimmers with a shade of purple, his feet taking off towards the plume of fire that soon engulfs his figure completely in your vision.

You squeeze your eyes shut not just because of the heat but also because you can’t bring yourself to see it. Once the air around you cools off, your eyes flutter open again to see Minho angling his head over his shoulder, throwing you a wink in the process. Did he just counter a dragon’s breath with his sword?

“Chaeryeong taught me that. Neat trick, isn’t it?” he says with a grin while you’re blinking at him in utter shock; he looks almost proud of successfully deflecting that breath attack. “I use magic more often than you’d think. Nothing major, only the basic things. Enough to keep me alive.”

“I still think we need to run first.”

Minho looks at you dejectedly, “Don’t you have a better plan?”

With a howl as loud as any sky-born thunder, the dragon flaps its wings more vigorously this time, flinging the layer of snow under your feet into a blizzard—a swirling storm of screaming silver, a primal force than conquers until its core explodes. Everything around you is almost white-out as you bat your hands around helplessly in the middle of this snowstorm. After a while, you can no longer feel your legs, it’s like the storm just sweeps you off your feet. You’re not sure if it’s because of the cold or-

What the…?

You widen your eyes in a panic; you’re falling. Your perception of time distorts, your surroundings slow down until there’s nothing, only you, the sky above, and a hole that’s only a few hundred feet away from where you were standing previously. Your hand reaches out to the canvas above, grasping the endless crevasse of blue.

Everything’s a blur, a blur that swirls out of existence. Suspended in the air for a few seconds, you close your eyes and take a deep breath, letting your tense muscles relax. You won’t die from the fall since there’s a likelihood that snow’s already covered the pit. But you can’t just let yourself fall freely, that would cause minor, unnecessary injuries. So you reach for your sword, planning to jab it against the rocky surface as an attempt to go against gravity.

Once the metal comes in contact with the side of the pit, tiny flares of fire flutter in the air as if the sword is being sharpened by a blacksmith, an ear-piercing sound hisses against your eardrums. The stab is strong enough to slow gravity down from pulling you downward any faster but it’s not enough to make you stop completely.

Chan, you think while screwing your eyes shut, every cell inside your body is shaking, every muscle is aching. You can’t give up now, not when you’re still in one piece, and Chan’s hanging on the edge of not getting his old life back. You can’t give up not knowing who’s the culprit, not just yet.

And you’d rather be cursed than making out of this place alive and leaving Minho behind. Your conscience won’t ever forgive you.

When that thought crosses your mind, you grit your teeth and suddenly the sword stops sliding down, leaving you dangling midair on one arm. The rapier is too slender, it won’t hold on for long, and it’s not like you can climb all the way up to the top.

A mighty, fearsome roar blares through your brain like wildfire so you flutter your eyes upward to see the dragon with its wings folded on both sides, diving at an immaculate speed into the hole, in your direction.

There’s my ride.

eight.

Once the blizzard settles down, the setting sun comes with a sky of fire, the orange of every wintry hearth. The color stretches far and wide along the horizon like a reflection of the dawn that comes after the velvety night.

That’s when Minho sees them.

The crystals have grown as something alive may do, thriving over the ages, through many generations. As such they become a rainbow sea made of perfect rocks, the shoreline ever-present and still with colors that shine in the brilliant light of a richness that only nature can bring. Minho might feel bad when he snaps off a piece, it’s like cutting a single, healthy rose in the middle of the thorny garden. But if it’s for Chan, he’s certain that you’d do anything at any cost.

Minho sheaths his sword and sighs, turning around, “Y/N are you okay?” All that he’s met with is a muffled silence, the cold wind whistling into his ears, the hollow space before his eyes white-out and empty.

“Y/N?” Nothing.

“Y/N!!” No one answers. “Y/N!!!”

No, he lets out a choked whimper. No, no, no.

His legs tremble inside his boots, his lips quivering, his fists clenched, his fingers turning cold. And the thing that terrifies him most? His heart feels like someone is grasping on it so tightly as though they’re going to crush it with their bare hands.

A seed of fear suddenly grows inside his rib cage, thriving at an abrupt pace, branching out, gripping onto every cell, every muscle inside his body. He can’t breathe. This can’t be it, he tells himself, tumbling backward a bit. He promised not to let this happen. He swore. Yet his biggest nightmare is only one step away from becoming a reality.

Minho wants to cry your name aloud over and over again until his vocal cords are torn apart, he wants to be vulnerable for once and let himself fall. How is he going to face Chan? And Changbin? And his own conscience? He might as well run his own sword through his heart because what would be the point in living if you’re no longer here?

All of this was a grave mistake. If only he didn’t throw the dart. If only you didn’t come with him. None of this would have happened. None of this would have happened if he didn’t accept that damned offer. He could have easily flipped you off the second that duel was finished and gone on this trip by himself. And face the scythe of Death alone, by himself, like he always does. He should have died alone, he deserves to die alone.

But this time, he didn’t make the right decision and the consequences are horrendous. He gave in because of your stubbornness, your determination, your bossy nature. He let you in and his walls came down tumbling one by one, his stern and trained facade shredded into pieces. His head is a mess whenever he sees your smile, his heart can permit you to tread on his boring life. And because of those merely unguarded moments, he’s killed another person that he truly cares about other than himself.

Wait, something clicks inside his head. He almost forgets the most important thing of all. The culprit.

Minho regains his composure and snaps his head back towards the crystals. The sun might be going down but its limited source of light is more than adequate to cast a shadow onto the snowy white surface. The shadow of a person, a person that’s not you. The shadow that sets a silent inferno inside his chest, the flame spreading by the ticking second.

“I have been waiting for you,” he turns on his heels, reaching for the hilt of his sword. “Hwang Hyunjin.”

The shadow visibly flinches before stepping out, a hand outstretching from the black cloak to pull down the hood. When Hyunjin’s face comes into view, Minho’s muscles tense up, anguish making his head a little dizzy. But he maintains his cold front, not letting his opponent see how much this is affecting him.

“I’ve got a feeling that you’d already figured it out the moment I visited the cabin,” Hyunjin says slyly, his facial expression rather relaxed. “And I was so close to silencing you little errand boy for good too, but I’ll admit, the little brat is well trained, he ran off before I could catch him. So tell me, Black Swordsman, where did I slip?”

“Your eyes,” Minho grits. “They weren’t staring at Chan with what’s supposed to be concern or relief. You were looking at him like a predator watching its prey from afar. If I weren’t keeping an eye on you, who knows what you would have done to him. He didn’t sound pleased when you touched him either.”

Hyunjin drops his cloak to the ground, laughing under his breath, “You are sharper than I’d expected.” He takes a few steps closer forward, craning his neck tiredly before drawing his sword, causing Minho to do the same. “Now, now, vice commander, an innocent man is about to be killed because of you.”

Minho can only snicker at the statement, “I’m not planning on going down easily.”

“So am I,” Hyunjin gets ready in his stance, glaring at his opponent. “I wasn’t really planning on dealing with you. I would rather end her and let you take the blame. Actually, that sounds like a better plan! Don’t you agree? No one would put their trust in you—a low, damned being who lives off the upper classes’ bloodied pennies.”

With his blood boiling hot, Minho inhales and exhales deeply to keep his voice calm. “End her?” he repeats after the guard. End her. Hyunjin hasn’t made a single move yet he feels like someone just stabbed him in the gut. How could he?! You trusted Hyunjin, you went through so much with him, you trained him. And now he’s just going to turn around and bite the hand that fed him? Traitor. “Over my dead body.”

Hyunjin lunges forward, his feet sprinting quickly and he brings his blade up from a lower angle while Minho attempts to clash him from the head down. Both of their swords get knocked away on different sides from the harsh contact. Before Hyunjin can raise his weapon again, Minho sword slices at him sideways but he luckily deflects it in time—the reflexes and muscle memories from his training are kicking in.

“Why are you doing this? Aren’t you her friend?”

Minho’s sword aims for his head once again; however, Hyunjin steps to the side and makes a grab for his hand, holding his weapon down. This makes Minho lose his balance for a few seconds while Hyunjin tries to cleave his neck. He stumbles on his heels at the last second, only getting away with a small cut on his cheekbone. The pain isn’t even there, he’s been beaten up ten times worse before, this is nothing. He’s practically numb by now.

“Friend?” Hyunjin drags his sword against the ground before bringing it up to stop a slash at his chest, throwing snow into Minho’s eyes. He groans agonizingly when the white matters’ coldness burns his skin, blurring his vision. “She and Chan only care about themselves! They are the ones who get all the praises and recognition after a mission. Little rumps like me and Changbin?”

He angrily tightens the grip on his weapon, dragging a long slice downward, “We didn’t have any title, we’re merely just two faces amongst a hundred of the other guards. We get treated like we don’t even exist!”

“Did Y/N ever treat you that way? And Chan too?” Minho heaves after dodging the blow by rolling on the ground. He’s circling around the guard, trying to keep his mind clear. “From what I’ve seen, she seems to care about you and Changbin as much as she does about her brother.

Hyunjin swings his sword at him, and Minho receives the hit with the edge of his blade. The sound of metal scraping against each other is pricking at his eardrums but he can care less, he won’t be dying today. “So you can break my soul,” Minho pants before both of them stagger backward, switching their initial position. “Take everything away from me.”

“Beat me up.” Another blocked blow.

“Tear me into pieces.” Anger almost tears through his mind again. Anger towards Hyunjin for betraying Chan, you, and his entire team. Anger for falling into his trap. Anger for not being able to keep you safe. He wishes he could just unleash all of his hatred and rage on the guard. But what can he do? He’s one to blame too, after all.

“Or kill me, even.”

Hyunjin catches up to Minho when he starts sprinting away to regain his vision, the two of them running side by side, in between the lined up crystals. Thrusting his sword at Minho in various directions, Hyunjin’s stabs are getting messy because of the limited amount of space.

“But I will tell you something, you’d better listen to me and listen to me for good.” Minho’s sword strikes at him but he blocks it in time, their faces inches apart and their weapons threatening to snap each other into half.

“Touch Y/N.” A low grunt escapes Hyunjin’s lips when Minho jabs his fist against his stomach, forcing air out from his lungs. “And I am going to give you a taste of hell. I have been there before, and you know what? You would be begging me for a painless death by then.”

When the guard falls onto his knees, his weapon dropping by his side with a loud clangor, Minho directs the tip of his sword on top of Hyunjin’s head. “Think about it again, do you think that all of this is really worth it?”

A sinister laugh echoed through his ears and Minho’s eyes grow alarmed when the blood trickled down on his cheek starts to harden a little. No, something’s wrong. “You spoke too soon,” Hyunjin tells him with a devilish tone, the corners of his lips being tugged up into a smirk.

What is this? On the tip of his fingers reveals a dark shade of blue, it almost reminds him of the royal guards’ uniform. Suddenly his body collapses, he can’t feel his muscles, he can do nothing. His sword is so far away from his grip, he can’t even move his fingers. Paralytic poison. “You bastard!”

Hyunjin pushes himself off the ground, holding his sword by the hilt when the tip is faced downward. “I suppose this is the end. Our encounter is rather short but it was a pleasure to cross swords with the infamous Black Swordsman,” he raises it, chuckling. “Goodbye, Lee Minho.”

Minho locks his jaw, his muscles tense but he can’t move, his eyes are shut while he braces himself for the contact. But it never comes. A growl as loud and frightening as a clap of thunder rumbles through the sky and that’s when Minho opens his eyes to see the shadow of a dragon flying not too high above. Next thing he knows, a figure jumps off, falling rapidly like a lightning bolt.

Your foot slams onto Hyunjin’s shoulder, causing him to fall back while you land on the ground safely. Before he can register the situation, your rapier is drawn to yank his long sword away. “Hyunjin?” you grit with tears brimming in your eyes. “Why?”

Hyunjin doesn’t respond, instead, he takes a few strides towards you wordlessly. You don’t raise your weapon nor retreat it, simply keeping it limp by your side. But he lifts the blade of your sword with his hands and swiftly runs it through his stomach, blood splattering everywhere. His arms are weak, yet he still tries to put one of them around your back, pulling you closer and leaning his head on your shoulder. “Congratulations, vice commander,” he taunts into your ear.

“You’re a murderer.”

nine.

Chan finds himself waking up on a plain bed, a white blanket draped over him, and a cold towel on his head. All the mayhem from the past week comes crashing down on him like a tsunami, banging against his temple. He tries to push himself up but his limbs are too wobbly—it feels foreign, it’s like he’s inside someone else’s body and not his own. With every move, his head pulses in agony, and his muscles ache.

The pain stops when he sees you sleeping soundly against his bed, your head rested on your forearms. Another figure is present too, on the couch staring blankly at the flickering fireplace. Opening his mouth to speak, Chan scrunches his nose in pain as he accidentally strains his vocal cords but no words come out, only incoherent sounds.

“...Chan?” you rub the sleep away from your eyes, yawning tiredly.

“Ah..ah..ah,” Chan can only lift his arms, calling out to you in desperation. His eyes grow stingy at the sound of your voice and before he knows it, tears are already rolling down in his cheeks relentlessly.

“Chan, it’s alright,” you hush him softly, slipping your arms around him and holding him tight. “Everything’s fine now, you’re safe. You’ve done enough.” You bury your face into the crook of his neck, that way he won’t be able to see your glassy eyes. This isn’t the time to cry in front of him.

The door closes with a sharp thud.

Chan only convinces himself that he’s still alive, and back to his human form, not being buried six feet under the ground somewhere when your fingers graze the dull lines that his tears leave behind. A sense of relief washes over him the moment he sees your smile, though insomnia has been carved into your features over time. You’re safe, he closes his eyes. You’re not hurt.

That’s all that matters.

“Wait for me here, I’ll call Yeji in,” you give his hands one last squeeze. Chan pulls you back for a second there, a faint frown adorns his face. “Just leave the rest to me, we’re going to be alright.”

With Chan’s weak smile as an approval, you dash outside, finding Minho standing like a soulless being at the front door of the cabin. He can’t bring himself to face you after what he did. His body is tired, his mind is a mess, and his heart is filled with sorrow. Even his sword seems too heavy for his existence, it’s weighing him down, making him not be able to move.

“This was all my fault, wasn’t it?”

You don’t answer him and instead outstretch your hand, letting your fingers tug at the sheath of his sword. “Minho, it’s no one’s fault,” you mumble with your head hung low. “I dragged you into this. If anything, I’m the one to blame.”

“No!” His sudden outburst makes you flinch; hence you pull your hand back with a wide-eyed expression on your face. “If I hadn’t thrown that dart, we wouldn’t have met. If you hadn’t followed me on the trip, nothing would have happened! None of this would have happened! You almost died back there, Y/N. Do you know how much it scared me?”

“So you’re just going to leave me like this?” you raise your voice, trying not to snap at him. “After everything, you’re still going to turn away from me? Just like how you did to everyone else?”

“I-“

“Lee Minho, if you claimed to care about me so much-”

“I should stay away from you, I will only cause you more trouble. Even worse, I will get you in danger. I won’t forgive myself if anything happens to you.” His heart clenches at his own words as his shoulders shake, arms tense on his sides.

You reach for his hand, and huff in determination, “Stick to your words and protect me then.”

ten.

It’s been a week since the incident happened. Hyunjin has managed to live after the fight, yet he wants to keep his lips sealed for a while as to why he intended to harm the commander of his team in the first place. For now, he’s being kept in the dungeon while the king and queen permit you to do whatever. After all, he didn’t cause the kingdom any trouble. And if you were being honest, you would forgive Hyunjin without a second thought just so things can be normal again. It’s not as easy as you’d hoped.

Minho, on the other hand, has been praised tremendously by everyone in court for what he did. His name has been cleansed and every flighty rumor or gossip about him has been cleared out. He doesn’t like this at all, journalists are starting to snoop around Jisung’s place, leaving him no choice but to stay at Yeji’s log house for some time. His reputation was what used to keep him safe, now everything’s being flipped upside down.

He stares at his own reflection in the mirror from across the room. Minho can’t tell if it’s because he’s only worn the color black for the longest time or he’s being irrational, but he thinks the white loose shirt and matching pants that the mage brought back last night from the castle just don’t look right. Is his own moniker messing with his head? Probably.

Glancing sideways to catch a glimpse of his sword on his bed, he exhales dejectedly. I look like a joke, Minho thinks to himself.

“I never knew the Black Swordsman would look this dashing in white,” Chan enters his room with a dimpled smile on his face, Changbin following him suit. He’s recovering from the past week of living his life as a wolf, it’s still quite hard for Chan to walk so Yeji forced him to use a wheelchair for the time being.

“Don’t you guys have any clothes that aren’t so flashy?” Minho cracks a crooked smile, feeling unfamiliar being dressed in such a bright color. “I look ridiculous.”

Chan chuckles wholeheartedly and shakes his head, “Actually, that’s one of our less flashy ones. Don’t worry, you look great.”

“Why are you here, anyway?” Minho’s question isn’t necessarily directed towards Chan, but rather the person standing behind him. “If you want to curse me for the things I’ve done, then fine, I accept it. I will leave Kalmburg and move to the other side of the Continent. You’ll never have to see me again.”

Changbin steps forward, and with a deep breath, he says, “Thank you, Minho.”

Minho can’t believe his ears, did he just—

“Thank you,” Changbin says again; this time more firmly, and the look in his eyes softening. In those brown orbs, Minho can once again see the look he used to be met with five years ago, no hatred or anger, just warmth. He missed this. A ‘thank you’ has never sounded so nerve-calming before. It’s genuine, it’s real. Heartwarming, almost.

“When you told me that you would protect her,” Changbin continues, gaze cast downward. “I almost believed you, I knew you weren’t lying. It felt like that day after we both got out of the dungeon all over again. My anger always got the best of me and I just burst. I never gave you the chance to explain yourself, I never got to know your reasons. I am sorry because I didn’t care about you enough, as a friend.”

“I am sorry too,” Minho rises from his seat on the bed, suppressing the happiness inside his ribcage. “I’m sorry I bailed on you that day, I think about it all the time.”

He pauses for a moment and sees Changbin outstretching his hand, the familiar broad smile dancing on his lips. Minho accepts his friend’s warm handshake and reciprocates his grin. “You’d better stay alive first before apologizing.”

Minho widens his eyes, “Of course I am alive!”

“No, I mean,” Changbin waves his hand dismissively. “I was going to ask you to join us since there’s a good chance that His Majesty won’t turn you down, but then I’d figure, you’re too reckless for us to handle either way. So if you’re planning on going out here and throwing yourself at monsters, you’d better stay safe or I wouldn’t forgive you again. And Y/N would never forgive herself.”

Chan eyes the small box sitting neatly on Minho’s nightstand, and teases, “Speaking of Y/N, when will you tell her?”

Minho scratches the nape of his neck with glowing cheeks, he can physically feel the pink tint darkening by the second. “I don’t know, but soon. I still need to have his permission first,” he leans over to take the box in his palm, opening it carefully.

The sight of the silver band resting nicely inside makes his chest swell, his beating heart doing its best to not implode from joy. It might be too early, but he’s scared that if he doesn’t do this now, fate is going to be one step ahead and take you away from him forever.

“Minho!” Yeji calls out to him from behind the door. “Y/N’s here!”

“I wish the best of luck for you then,” Chan tosses a wink in his direction.

eleven.

“No one asked you to come, Han.” Is the first thing Minho spats out when he closes the front door with his bag slung over his shoulder. Jisung’s welcoming grin falls flat on his face at his friend’s cold remark. He really should have got used to these things by now.

“I did,” you tell him with crossed arms, releasing your grip on Noir’s reign. “Yeji said she’s running low on some herbs so I introduced her to Jisung’s place.”

Minho rolls his eyes to the moon. “Aren’t there more trust-worthy stores for the royal mage? Why would you refer her to that dingy dumpster?” And this statement prompts Jisung to give his knee a harsh kick followed by a mere glare from the younger boy.

“I actually like his place, it’s cute,” you scoff. He’s just acting out since Jisung always shows up unannounced.

“Why? It’s a rip-off.”

“Minho, you were living there for free!”

“I’m going to leave you two love birds alone now,” Jisung pushes past you to shoot Minho a mischievous smirk, patting his friend on the shoulder. “Don’t do anything weird to her or Chan is going to cut your arms off.” Actually, you’re fully capable of cutting his arms off yourself if he dared think about doing something damned. The swordsmanship runs in the family after all.

Your face morphs into a frown when Jisung finally enters the cabin, your head tilted to the side in confusion. “What is he talking about?” you ask but brush it off nonetheless; it’s Jisung, you can’t expect anything less from him. “Forget it, are you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Minho answers while petting Noir, your horse nudges her nose against his face in return—she’s always been keen on seeing him since day one. “How is your father these days? Last time I’d asked, you told me that he’d retired.”

You nod, resting your palm on the hilt of your sword, “He’s good. He said he’s already too old to train soldiers and he’d rather stay at home. Though he’s getting bored these days since there’s not much to do anymore. He’ll find a new hobby soon enough, he will need to take a break from everything eventually. Father has never let himself rest after our mother passed away, constant work distracts him.”

Minho hears you let out a small sigh and takes another step, his hands finding their way towards yours, collecting your fingers between his, giving them a firm squeeze.

You give in after a few moments to face him completely, concern is flashing in his eyes while a small smile blooms on his lips. He looks a little tired, probably didn’t get any sleep for the past few days while you’re resolving all the problems in court. Minho never fails to stun you nonetheless, from the curve of his lips to the fullness of his eyelashes and the adoration in his warm eyes for you and only you; they make you feel at ease.

“Like father, like daughter,” he brushes a strand of hair away from your face and jokes. “You’d better be eating well and getting enough sleep, vice commander.”

You snicker, “Speak for yourself, Black Swordsman, you look terrible.” That’s a lie, he looks absolutely wondrous it’s unfair.

“I like this color on you,” you giggle after noticing his appearance today. They really don’t have any dark-colored pieces of clothing in the castle. “Look, we’re matching. You’re just not matching with your sword anymore.”

“Y/N.” The merry tone in his voice suddenly drops and Minho looks away, his muscles loosening. “Can I ask you something? But I don’t want you to get mad at me.”

You’re suddenly worried. “What’s wrong?”

“On the day that the incident happened….,” he trails off nervously. “Why didn’t you run away? You could have just left me there and got home safely. There will always be another way to help Chan. The chances of surviving that fight were too slim, there’s no telling what would happen. Why would you—”

“Lee Minho, are you even hearing yourself right now?” you cup his cheeks so that he’ll look at you. “Are you assuming I’m some sort of lowly being who will run away while their partner is in danger? I’d rather die with someone than let that person die in front of my eyes. Especially when it’s you! I would never forgive myself if I ever did that to you. So why are you saying such things?”

Minho reaches for your hand and melts into your touch, exhaling heavily.

“I don’t know...I’m sorry I think I’m losing my mind. After everything, I’m scared that I might lose you. All I want to do is run away with you, from all of this, from everything. We can live together in someplace far away, where no one can find us,” he clenches his eyes shut.

“I just- I don’t want you to be in love with someone who always has hell hanging by his doorstep, who gets his hands bloodied for a living, who—“

You place your index finger on his lips and shake your head. “Do you even know who I am in love with? Hm?” you question.

“I’m in love with the most caring, kindhearted man that the world could ever ask for. Whose heart is so warm and fragile, he’s afraid to let anyone in because of his tough past. Whose will is so unwavering he didn’t even think twice about fighting off a dragon alone. But what makes me fall so stupidly for him, is the fact that despite his wounds and scars, he’d always prioritize other people’s needs before his own. Because he’d rather believe and regret than doubt and regret.”

“Y-You’re in love with me?” he studies your delicate feature in the daylight, his heart going on a rampage.

You chuckle to yourself, “Yes, more than I should be because you’re a pain in the-“

Minho presses his lips against yours and inhales every word, sealing the nagging in until you respond to the kiss. Your hands find their way up to his soft hair, weaving themselves into the dark locks and dropping to caress his face after. He latches his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush against his so he can have more control of your movements. You’re drowning in his existence as he tugs and nibs at your bottom lip, trailing small kisses down your jawline before pulling away completely.

“I guess this means you’re in love with me too?” you ask to distract yourself from the heat that’s flaring through your nostrils, setting your heart on fire.

Your question has him stop for less than a moment, realizing that maybe he is in love with you as much as you are with him. And maybe you want him just as much as he wants you too.

He nods curtly, breath shaking, “Yes, yes I am.”

For the longest time, Minho used to forbid himself to cry, smile, and laugh like any sane human being would, as he thinks expressing his emotions is being strong, is protecting himself. But in reality, he’s just running away from his own problems instead of finding ways to solve them.

Now, he will let himself fall, he will let himself cripple, he will let his tears run freely for strength is simply an illusion, there are far more important things. He will fight for what he believes in, protect what he cares about and run on his bare feet through the entire galaxy if it means he gets to see you at the end of it, if it means you can dive into his arms, safe and sound.

Then, Minho thinks of what’s inside the little box, making the thing thundering inside his chest skip a beat. “Will you stay by my side forever?” he blinks.

“Is that even a question?” you convey between labored pants. “Even if fate pulls you to the other side of the universe, I will find you, do you hear me? I will find you and fall in love with you all over again.”

“Very well then,” he holds you by the shoulders; the eagerness in his eyes lights up a curiosity inside you. “Y/N, let’s..” But it’s gone before you can even register. “Let’s get going, we’re going to be late.” It’s not quite the right time yet. He still needs to meet someone before tying you up with him for eternity.

Because Minho too, will always find you and fall in love with you all over again. If fate has a problem with that, then he won’t be giving a damn.

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