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clarinartiste · 8 months

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Character analysis: the gargoyles as a reflection of Quasimodo

[This is based on the interpretation that the gargoyles are Quasimodo’s imaginary friends, and that their traits can give us some insight into Quasimodo and his own mind and personality]

Part Two: Hugo

Of the three gargoyles, Hugo is the most fun-loving. At the beginning, when Quasimodo looks out at the city below, Hugo says “Hey Quasi! What’s goin’ on? A fight? A flogging?” As we see later during Quasimodo’s humiliation during the Festival of Fools and Phoebus and Quasimodo in the gallows in the Court of Miracles scene, many of the Parisians derive pleasure from public displays of mockery, torment, degradation, and death. And it’s a reflection of history too, a lot of medieval people viewed these kinds of things as sources of entertainment for them.

Being as sensitive and caring as he is, Quasimodo most likely would NOT enjoy those kinds of public executions or displays of torture—in fact, I imagine they would disturb and horrify him. I think that Hugo saying this line is more of a generalization of what the people of Paris find entertaining, rather than what Quasi himself does.

However, what Quasimodo does find entertaining is the Festival of Fools. It’s a joyous celebration with bright colors, confetti, drinking, and merrymaking. Hugo enthusiastically says, “All right, all right! Pour the wine and cut the cheese!” Victor mentions, “Watching the Festival of Fools has always been the highlight of the year for Quasimodo,” and Laverne emphasizes Quasimodo’s long-standing desire to join the festivities, saying, “What good is watching a party if you never get to go?”

Quasimodo deeply craves fun. He clearly wants to be part of this celebration—to seek that kind of freedom and enjoyment with the Parisians. During the part where the gargoyles encourage Quasimodo to join the festival, they come up with different reasons that he should attend. Being his imaginary friends, I interpret this as Quasimodo trying to overcome his own doubts. Hugo juggles the wooden figures and exclaims that there will be “Wine, women, and song!” and “Bobbin’ for snails!” He says “Playin’ dunk the monk!” while dunking Victor with a bucket of water. It shows a cheeky, playful sort of attitude towards religious authority figures like monks, and it also reminds me of Clopin’s line “It’s the day we mock the prig and shock the priest” with his Frollo puppet.

(side note: I also wanted to bring up the part at the beginning where Victor chastises Hugo, “That’s what you get for sleeping with your mouth open” and Hugo sarcastically retorts, “Heheh… go scare a nun.” Also, encouraging Quasimodo to go to the festival, he quips, “No, the Pope. Of course, you!” while putting the wooden figure of a clergyman into Quasimodo’s mouth. This might be a bit of a stretch, but I read that Victor Hugo’s original book has some anti-clerical elements, as he felt disillusioned with the institution of the church at the time he was writing it.

Religion can be a very beautiful, inspiring, and wonderful thing. But unfortunately, some people will weaponize faith for their own personal ambitions, and corruption in churches and other religious institutions is a real issue. Perhaps Hugo the gargoyle lightly poking fun at these clerical figures is a subtle nod to that same concept in the book? After all, in this movie, Quasimodo is raised by a cruel man who claims that the horrific crimes he commits are all in the name of God. Even though Frollo is a judge and not an archdeacon in this adaptation, I feel like the point still stands)

Anyway, back to Hugo and his antics. He loves to have fun, acting unabashedly goofy and outrageous. He plays card games (“I’m losin’ to a bird!”) he crushes on Djali, and he messily eats food and smokes a sausage. Hugo is never afraid to get silly, which is especially prominent during “A Guy Like You.” Using things to imitate curly hair, getting dizzy and seeing double, dangling wooden figures in the gallows (some dark humor), acting as a barber and giving Quasi an over-the-top wig, grinning suavely while pretending to be the head of the muscular statue, getting his horns stuck, and dressing up like Esmeralda.

(look at Quasimodo’s amused smile here :)

Throughout the song, Hugo calls Quasimodo “kid” a lot as a reassuring, affectionate term, and he tries his best to hype him up and make him feel good. Quasimodo and the gargoyles bounce on a cloth like a trampoline, again showing Quasimodo’s strong desire to have fun.

Going back to the point about the Festival of Fools, and Quasimodo being fun-loving, it makes sense why he would want to join. The boisterous revelry, bright colors, singing, dancing, and hedonistic nature of the festival must be incredibly appealing for someone like him. Being isolated in the bell tower for twenty years has really taken a toll on him. His upbringing under Frollo is very strict and ascetic—the alphabet lesson emphasizing sin (abomination, blasphemy, contrition, damnation, eternal damnation)

When Quasimodo absentmindedly says “festival,” he betrays his true desires, and Frollo quickly notices. Realizing his slip-up, Quasimodo becomes more anxious and stutters, “F…f-forgiveness.” But Frollo sees right through him, and he presses, “You said… festival.”

With a look of regret and worry in his eyes, Quasimodo covers his face with his hands. He unsuccessfully tries to reason with Frollo, who swiftly and sternly shuts him down.

Hugo is loud and unapologetic—and, deep down, I think that this is what Quasimodo wishes he could be to Frollo. But Frollo has been an imposing figure to him all his life, and he does not feel like he can stand up to him (until the film’s climax)

I also wanted to point out Quasimodo’s internal resentment towards Frollo. At their lunch, when Frollo asks, “Shall we review your alphabet today?” Quasimodo looks down and mutters, “Oh…yes, Master, I would like that very much.” His tone has a very subtle bite of sarcasm, hinting at his bitterness. But Frollo doesn’t pick up on it, and he continues speaking to Quasimodo as normal. In fact, I don’t think it occurs to Frollo to even consider that Quasimodo is being snarky here.

In the grape scene, when Frollo realizes that Quasimodo helped Esmeralda escape, he loses his temper and thunders, “You idiot! That wasn’t kindness, it was cunning!” He violently grabs Quasimodo by the tunic, shaking him and yelling “Think, boy! Think of your mother!” Then, after calming down and clearing his throat, he says, “But what chance could a poor, misshapen child like you have against her heathen treachery…”

With his condescending attitude, Frollo consistently underestimates Quasimodo’s intelligence. He treats him as though he is lesser—and, fundamentally, I don’t think he really sees Quasimodo as a person. Frollo believes that Quasimodo is incapable of thinking for himself, and so he imposes his own beliefs on him. In “Out There,” he sings, “I who keep you, teach you, feed you, dress you” while holding Quasimodo’s face, demanding that Quasimodo be grateful towards him. Ultimately, Frollo assumes that Quasimodo isn’t capable of free thought or free will. And, in his own cruel and twisted sense of self-righteousness, he sees himself as a “savior” to someone he perceives as below him, devaluing Quasimodo because of his physical deformity.

And, VERY understandably, Quasimodo resents Frollo for this. Even if he does not outwardly show it much, he has been accumulating a sense of bitterness for all the years that Frollo has mistreated him. I believe that Hugo is representative of Quasimodo’s desire to disobey Frollo. When encouraging him to go to the festival, he says with a mischievous smile, “Who says ya gotta ask? You sneak out… and ya sneak back in.”

“You could wear a disguise! Just this once. What Frollo doesn’t know can’t hurt ya.” Suggesting that Quasimodo not tell Frollo about his escapade, he encourages him to assert his independence.

Later, in the dialogue leading up to “A Guy Like You,” Hugo holds a deck of cards and says, “If I know Esmeralda, she’s three steps ahead of Frollo and ask out of harm’s way.” He holds up a three of hearts when he says the word “three,” and flips it. When he says “Frollo,” he holds up the joker card.

The implication here being that Frollo is a joker, a buffoon, a fool. It’s a subtle and impudent jab at him that suggests that while Quasimodo might fear Frollo for how controlling and cruel he is, he doesn’t entirely respect him as a figure of authority. Through his imaginary friend Hugo, Quasimodo lightly makes fun of Frollo as a way to “get back” at him, coping with how horrible he is.

I also wanted to explore how Hugo reflects Quasimodo’s feeling towards Phoebus. After Quasimodo forces Phoebus to leave the cathedral, Hugo congratulates Quasi and says, “The nerve of him! Snoopin’ around here, trying to steal your girl!” and “Way to go, lover boy!”

He really encourages Quasimodo and raises his hopes of being with Esmeralda. Later, when talking about Esmeralda, Victor says, “Knights in shining armor certainly aren’t her type”—alluding to Phoebus—and Hugo adds, “And those guys are a dime a dozen! But you, you’re one of a kind.”

In “A Guy Like You,” he constantly references how Quasimodo is unique. He sings, “A guy like you, she’s never known, kid” and “You’ve got a look, that’s all your own, kid.” Hugo also tries to elevate Quasimodo’s self-esteem by comparing him to other guys (read: Phoebus). He knocks around wooden figurines hanging from ropes, singing,

“Those other guys that she could dangle / All look the same from every boring point of view!” (also, this might be kind of a stretch, but the figures being blonde and having shoulder-length hair might be a little reference to Phoebus too haha)

Hugo positively affirms again to Quasimodo, “You’re a surprise from every angle / Mon Dieu above, she’s gotta love a guy like you” (side note: I love the ringing of the bells on that second line, something about it sounds so sweet :)

Immediately after the song, Esmeralda brings an injured Phoebus to the bell tower and she asks Quasimodo to hide him. The kiss scene happens, and Quasimodo quietly cries, broken-hearted. But he still helps hide Phoebus, and after the grape scene with Frollo, Quasimodo expresses doubt about himself, bitterly saying, “She already has her knight in shining armor, and it’s not me.”

But his compassion wins over—he cares about Esmeralda so much that it overpowers his resentment towards Phoebus. Of course, he still feels really hurt after seeing Esmeralda and Phoebus kiss, and so he acts bitter and quarrelsome around Phoebus. I really appreciate this because I think it makes Quasimodo more real and believable as a character. Yes, he is a very sweet and sensitive person, but he’s also capable of being jealous and petty, and I feel like that contrast makes him really interesting.

Phoebus pats Quasimodo’s back and asks, “Truce?” After hesitating, Quasimodo says, “Well… okay,” with a forceful pat on Phoebus’ back (right where the arrow struck him)

Phoebus grimaces in pain, and as they head off to follow the map, Quasimodo utters a simple “sorry.” Phoebus grumbles, “No you’re not.” It’s a funny exchange, and another example of Quasimodo being bitter. Like I said before—although he is an overall kind and gentle person, he also has moments of spite, and I think these add some wonderful nuance to his character.

In conclusion, as an imaginary friend, Hugo reflects Quasimodo’s sense of humor, his fun-loving nature, his desire for independence, and his potential for irreverence. While Quasimodo is overall a very loving and gentle person, he also harbors resentful feelings towards Frollo, and a grudge against Phoebus (the latter fading away as the two develop a stronger trust and friendship :)

#quasimodo #victor #hugo #laverne #gargoyles #frollo #phoebus #character analysis #the hunchback of notre dame

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sqsupernova · 2 months

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fuzzytrashbird · 1 year

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i made a thing! it's a quite short read and i'm a lil (Very) anxious about sharing it, but here i am >.< and heads up, this game does contain mentions of transphobia, trauma, and has a few suggestive parts!

it's a mini passion project that i made for the trans representation jam 2023 with my main boys Sebastian and Callion, and it's... an odd feeling to have it posted. my OC designs/basic backstories have been mostly public, but actually sharing even a section of their story outside of discord servers is so different and absolutely terrifying. i actually had to basically get off anything that isn't one discord server for like an hour just to emotionally recover aklskdlksdf

anyway, here's Nothing and Everything! below you can find the 4 drawings that were decided to be the best ones to post outside of the game along with extra thoughts :3

i had generally everything planned out once i finally landed on what story i wanted to tell. I was going to tell another short story about my OCs Joseph and Alecs originally, but it's honestly a little too upsetting. i'm rather glad i didn't go with that one considering how life turned out for me while working on it.

and if i had, y'know, properly planned this out and stuff, i might have some thumbnails or concept sketches or something to show, but i don't. I used Clip Studio's 3D models for the majority of the art and just kept changing the poses from image to image. the only one without the models is the one on the bed, which is taken from the main menu.

i also had 0 plans to have the sunset playground in this. in fact, i didn't even know i'd be drawing them on a swing set until like a couple days ago when i was like well i have like 2 drawings left. then i proceeded to spend 5 hours on that. originally i was going to use a previous drawing of Cal because i had no clue what to use when it shows up, but then a friend was like "cutesy photo of them being them" and inspiration Struck

as for the other two, they were in my head from the beginning so i don't have much to say about them lol

i love my boys and i hope others will tooooo

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silkflovvers-art · 11 months

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HI! I was obsessed thinking about your writing for the dragonbedo threadfic again and was looking to read it again and saw on here that you were reformatting it. I thought it was a super cool idea and know you're probably still working on it/its on pause but was wondering if there was anyway/where I could read it again. I might not have checked everywhere so if I missed it opps but yeah I have dragonbedo brain worms

This is actually my art only blog, so you won't find any of my fics here! However, @silkflovvers is where I actually update more often about my fics, though those updates are few and far between.

The rest of your ask is answered below so as not to clog up people's dashboards!

As far as the DragonBedo thread-fic, it is being reformatted and edited. Previously, the outcome was decided by Twitter polls and the story was linear based on what people chose. But I have been considering turning it into a choose your own adventure game using a text oriented game engine called Twine.

However, doing that means I would be writing every single route and choice possible. In the game, every single choice would have a result and then more choices and more results. In my head I already have at least 8 separate endings I would like to do. I have done some of my research for the characters and have started a VERY bare bones outline, but not much else. Unfortunately a game like that would take a very long time to write, code, and play test.

So, the full version will take a while to complete and I've temporarily set it aside until I have fully completed my zine work and managed to scrounge together a merch catalogue worth of items to sell at a local con (hopefully in spring or summer of next year). So I won't even begin work on the game until next summer. Ideally, I would release it in installments as each individual route was completed. That way people could still play the game as I continue to work on it. The full version would then include extra routes or secrets the individual routes did not have. Gotta up that replay value.

I'd be willing to post what I have of the linear version of the story so far to AO3 for people to enjoy until I can start work on the game. I did write the next part of what would have been posted to Twitter had it not turned into even more of an AI scraping cesspool. I just need to get it AO3 ready. After it's posted to AO3, I'll make a post about it on my non-art-only blog so it's easy to find! Or you can just keep an eye on my AO3 to see when it's posted? That may be more reliable, actually. I constantly forget to make Tumblr posts for my fics...

ANYWAY, I'm very happy to know someone else out there has DragonBedo brain worms. I actually worked a little on the character research portion this week, but didn't get super far. Child's character got a bit of a revamp and I got more real world inspiration for Rosaria and Kaeya's. In the mean time, if you ever want to know more about the AU or the possible love interests, you are more than welcome to send an ask on my other blog and I will happily gush about it!

#silkflovversask

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mareenavee · 1 year

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Similar ask to yours! How does music play into your creative process? Can you share passages written to specific tracks? How do they tie together? And is there a difference between how your write when there are words/lyrics vs instrumental music?

Hello again!!! AHHH I love this. Thank you for returning this question to me. Music and creativity go hand in hand for me, and I definitely have some snippets to share. By virtue of the question, this one is gonna be a LONG post lol

So first, I'll preface this by saying most of the perfect-music-finding happens after writing because I can't always pay attention to the lyrics of what's playing in the background while I'm writing. I use music while writing for the most part to drown out other sounds that are more capable of distracting and/or annoying me. (Usually other people speaking, which might be mean but it's true. That and tv sound effects.)

I'll also just blast music with the intent on singing at the top of my lungs if I'm going through a relatively mindless task for work, and sometimes will need to pause and throw songs on a project's list. I'll get into that below the cut. It's mostly just a way that I can create space for myself to be creative in a normally noisy environment.

ANYWAY. Songs will start to remind me of things I've written and sometimes fit so perfectly, they get thrown on a project's playlist and I'll go back in to read the lyrics later and decide what order they'll go in or if they'll be tossed on another playlist as well. Most of my projects have their own list. I have two general fiction lists -- one contains songs with a sort of different mood than the other -- and another specifically made with my fic in mind. I also have a campaign inspo list for dnd things, and a folder of character-specific lists regarding dnd things, too. In the same way that artists might collect references to inspire them, I save songs that inspire me and remind me of my projects. And sometimes I'll listen to the list I made for a project while working on it, which is just pure happiness lol

So in regards to finding perfect songs for specific chapters or scenes, it's less "perfect" than it is just a close reminder of the mood of said chapter, I think. Sometimes a song is closer to perfect than others. Sometimes a lot of songs fit the mood I'm going for in a chapter.

Here's a small snippet of chapter 8 of The World on Our Shoulders, already published, and one of the songs I paired with the chapter. (I know you guys love Sad!Athis from the last snippet of the chapter, and I do too, and this is one with a particularly good song match. In fact, I used the lyrics as part of the chapter title.)

Tears began to well in his eyes. He missed her badly. Even if she didn’t care that he wasn’t there with her, he cared deeply that she’d been missing from him for so long. He used to have such a full life, always traveling. Always fighting. Maybe he had slacked off with training, but he felt strong, then. At the moment, he felt nothing of the sort. The best memories he had ever had in his life were now tinged with this darkness. With this loss he could barely explain. It had been his fault, he knew. There was blame, and it was his. He could have said anything other than goodbye. He could have begged her to say. He could have gotten off his ass and ran after her. He could have done any number of things, but instead he watched her go. He watched her, and never inserted himself into the adventure. Part of him knew, even then, that she didn’t want him there. She said she wanted him to stay safe. Between the lines, she had really said she’d been disappointed in him. That he had been a distraction, if anything. That, perhaps, hurt worse than the rest of it. That so suddenly, she could decide such things. That she could inflict this kind of pain. That Nyenna, of all people, could be so venomous.

She had been his whole world at the beginning. He had been so taken with her. He had watched her decide to be strong, after he had saved her, that first day. She made the choice every day to do her best. While he had been waiting for her to catch up with him, she had flown by, surpassing his skills in every way. Especially after the first dragon. She…didn’t need to be saved. Didn’t need to be rescued. How long had he held onto the notion that she did? He didn’t know how to be anything else but her rescuer. And she didn’t even see him that way anymore. And he never really clarified what she did see. Never asked her what she wanted. What her goals were. Nobody ever did anymore, not since the Greybeards had called her to her destiny.

Athis was exhausted. The weight of his thoughts, his worries, his sadness had him crumbling. Once, he could have turned to her and she’d take it all away. One kiss, one glance, and he would be okay again. She was his home, his shelter, his safety. He thought he’d given her that, too, but like with everything else, her path had taken this from her as well.

And the song:

This is one that fit particularly well. Like I said, I used some of its lyrics for this chapter's title. I think it embodies the emotion Athis is feeling here, terribly missing the whirlwind closeness he and Nyenna shared before destiny took that away from them both. It has this visceral sort of regret in the lyrics, especially "And then I can tell myself / What the hell I'm supposed to do / And then I can tell myself Not to ride along with you." And it just kind of worked when I heard it again after I'd written this chapter.

For a happier fragment, have something out of the WIP, Chapter 47. Out of context, of course (:

The giant Khajiit came into view. He held Nyenna close to his chest, breathing heavily as if he had been running. Her shirt clung to her, skin slicked with sweat, despite the chill in the air down here. Her hair was damp and loose, and she was paler than death. She lifted her head from Ma’jhad’s chest and inhaled sharply. She tapped his shoulder and he threw her a concerned glance, but stooped to lower her to the stones. He supported her as she tried to stand on unsteady legs. She took a step and her knees collapsed, but the Khajiit warrior held her firmly. She looked at him and nodded, about to try again, but Teldryn sprinted and closed the distance. He lit the torch on the wall and dismissed his spell. Nyenna let out a weak chuckle as he collapsed onto his knees and scooped her into his arms. Ma’jhad stood tall again and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms.

“Are you real?” Nyenna asked softly, placing both of her burning hot hands on either side of his face. “Am I awake?”

“I’m here,” Teldryn said, finding he was weeping. She wiped his tears away as he grabbed onto her wrist with one hand and gently ran his knuckles down her cheek. Tears welled in her eyes. There was so much grief there, but still she smiled. He pushed a sodden curl away from her face.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” she breathed as the tears started to overflow.

“I’m here. I’m alright. I’m so sorry it took me so long to get back to you,” Teldryn whispered. He tried to wipe his eyes on his shoulder but she held onto his face firmly. He just let his tears keep falling. “Can you forgive me, merdekhes?”

She smiled, her own tears still running freely down her face, and ran her hand through his overgrown hair.

“I never blamed you, not for a second,” she whispered. “There’s nothing to forgive. I apologize for putting us in danger to begin with.” Her eyes went dark, and she closed them against the obvious wave of sorrow. She opened them and ran her fingers through his hair once again with another tear-streaked smile.

“Don’t,” Teldryn soothed. “None of this is on you. We’re here together. It’s going to be okay. I’ve got you now.”

He pulled her into a tight embrace which she returned as she shook with sobs that mixed with relieved laughter. What madness it was to be reunited, that all the horrors they both faced could melt away at one touch, to fill the spaces left behind with joy. He could hear the gathering crowd. Niranye gasped as she stopped halfway down her basement stairs. Nyenna pulled away and gently placed her hands on either side of his face again. She lightly traced his tattoos with the tips of her fingers, almost like she thought he would disappear on her in between one blink and the next if she did not check again. When she spoke, her voice sounded like something ethereal, like her words had been granted gravity by Mara Herself.

“I love you, Teldryn. I should have said a thousand, thousand times by now.”

She wiped away more tears from his cheek. For half a second, he thought maybe he was still walking between reality and dreams. But he took both of her hands in his and they were solid, and warm, and he had never been more sure of anything in life before.

And the song:

I just love this song. It's *chef's kiss* anyway for me. But particularly for Teldryn, after everything the two of them had been through, the past didn't matter anymore. They'd been reunited after some difficult events. Distance, maybe, brought clarity. And Teldryn realized fully what the implications of this meant. That he was worthy of being loved. (backstory things here.) That his love mattered to someone. And damn the consequences, right? At this point, anyway. There's more to it, but spoilers and all. (:

And for the last part of the question -- there's no difference for me while writing to music with lyrics or without. It depends on what I feel like hearing at that particular moment. To be fair, sometimes I won't listen to anything at all, especially if I am closely editing something. But as I mentioned above, music is definitely mostly intertwined in being creative. It's a source of inspiration for me, and a reminder to always be thinking about my stories (: Never know when song lyrics might call back to them unexpectedly!

Hope that was comprehensive enough :D

#AskMareena #MareenaWrites #The World on Our Shoulders #Nyenna #Teldryn Sero #Athis #LDB/Teldryn Sero #LDB/Athis #Skyrim #Elder Scrolls #tesblr #writeblr #fanficblr #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #skyrim fic #skyrim fanfic #skyrim fanfiction

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bluephoenixdruidicprincess · 2 years

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The Vaxleth Album Part 1 -- Feat Keyleth

I thought this would be a cool thing to do and a good outlet for sharing my favorite music with others. With the end of TLOVM season 2, I am inspired to not just create playlists for my favorite ships but to essentially create an album that dictates the relationship of these ships.

Of course I'm going to start with Vaxleth, they were my first love starting in TLOVM season 1 which lead me to watching the Critical Role campaign. (warning to the TLOVM-Only folks, the below may give away certain aspects of the future of Vaxleth so read and listen at your own risk).

For this one, its more of an album of songs from the perspective of Keyleth as she's grown throughout the time she started her Aramente and having been part of Vox Machina and Vax's life and what comes after when he's so terribly ripped out of her life. I plan to also make one for Vax and possibly if this is received well, go onto all of the other ships in the show/CR campaign.

Who You Are by Lunatica -- This one I chose because I feel like it exemplifies Keyleth's mindset and of where she was at when she first started off on her Aramente. All of the hopes of her people were put squarely on her shoulders, everyone expects her to do great things and she's crumbling under that pressure and that persona that her people hope for her to become is crippling her and she's losing her sense of herself from that persona that both she and her people want from her.

The Grey by Icon for Hire -- sort of continuing on with the idea that Keyleth is suffering through her own identity and the identity she feels she needs to be for her people. After journeying from her home she finds that she might be losing who she once was and wants to go home to that place in her head of who she used to be but she's so far lost in her head of her duty and what she means to her people that she can't find her way back to who she was. But she's also not this other persona, the person the people and her father want her to be. She's just meandering trying to find something, caught in between who she can't be anymore and who she feels she needs to be but she doesn't know how to get back to the old her or how to move forward to get to the Her she needs to become, she's caught in The Grey.

Sirens by Cher Lloyd -- I thought of this song as a way of even though Keyleth is drowning under all of this pressure, she's kind of starting to find her footing, she's not there yet but if she only wades and keeps herself in the shallow water, maybe her and this seemingly unachievable persona can find their way to each other.

Let It Fall by Emmelie de Forest -- Keyleth has been on her journey for some time, worked a few jobs with Vox Machina and at this point, she's finding that even though she had set expectations for herself and how she felt she needed to complete her Aramente, maybe there are different paths to completing it. Maybe she needs to smash her crystal ball that holds these expectations of what she thought her Aramente was about and to follow this new path...with Vox Machina.

Sinners by Lauren Aquilina -- this is carrying onto Keyleth's shattered expectations of what she needs to do and coming to terms that even though she feels she needs to make the right decisions sometimes, maybe making the wrong decisions leads her to the same thing anyway.

Misfit by High Dive Heart -- I just think this is a fun song for Vox Machina in general but can also apply to just Keyleth in coming to terms of maybe the real her and who she strives to needs be is a Misfit.

Hollywood Ending from Anna and the Apocalypse -- again, another song that is just fun but I feel it has certain aspects that apply to Vax and Keyleth in the beginning of their relationship turmoil before their relationship began. Vax wants this thing with Keyleth but Keyleth can only allow herself to think about her Aramente and what she needs to be ultimately for her people. And meanwhile in the background you have people around them watching this turmoil and responding with openheartedness about the nature of love which these two just can't bring themselves to.

So In Love With Two by Mikaila -- just a fun song I thought I'd slip in for the short-lived love triangle with Vax/Keyleth/Kash. Absolutely should not be taken seriously.

Search Inside from Monster High -- I felt like this is a nice song for Keyleth to come to terms of she can complete her Aramente and be who her people need but also finding herself and coming to accept her own feelings for Vax.

Come Closer by Delain -- this I felt really only pertains to the state of Vaxleth in TLOVM season 2. Where Keyleth feels like she's losing Vax and she just wants to hold onto him as tight as she can but also feels like she can't stop him from slipping out of her grasp.

I'm Glad You're Evil Too by Rachie and PalmMute -- I feel like this is a fun song to document the coming together of Vaxleth. Its quirky and weird like them. And also a good way to highlight that they're not perfect people and that they accept these flaws in each other.

The Last Time by Hudson Henry and Lisa Cimorelli -- for me this is like the ultimate love song for Vaxleth. Keyleth coming to terms of the true depth of her feelings for Vax and why she's fallen for him.

Hoodie by Hey Violet -- now we're into the Vaxleth territory where Keyleth has lost Vax to the Raven Queen. This song documents that feeling of loss and just needing to feel like Vax is still with her somehow.

I Want You Here by Plumb -- another song that just delves deeply into Keyleth's feelings of loss for losing Vax.

I Am Only One by We Are The Fallen -- this I feel like speaks for Keyleth years after her loss, successfully leading her people, finding herself in countless wars, and wishing for the life she once I had where everything was much more simple.

At War by Letters From The Fire -- again continuing on with this idea of continuing to lead her people throughout they years and just feeling this overwhelming sense of loss for what has long died, her beloved Vax, the loss of Vox Machina. Keyleth is just suffering through this depression of living for so long and having lost nearly everything that once meant so much to her and wondering when she'll find the peace she wants, but knows she can't, she has to keep fighting for her people.

War by Poets of the Fall -- as Keyleth continues her fight, she sees a raven fly by and realizes ultimately however long her destiny calls for her to fight, the ones she loves may be gone but are by her side forevermore through every fight she must fight, just as Grog learned his lesson about friends, so to has Keyleth, her friends are her power and even if they're gone, they will always be with her, fighting with her at her side.

And here lies my Vaxleth Album feat Keyleth.

I hope you all enjoyed this. This turned a little bit more into less of Vaxleth and more of a character study of Keyleth. But that's the nature of shipping, I suppose. We feel drawn to characters and their relationships because we have an understanding of who these people are. So I can't describe a ship without first studying who the members of the ship are first and foremost.

#tlovm #the legend of vox machina #keyleth #vaxildan #vax #vaxleth #critical role #critical role campaign 1 #crc1

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twotailednekomata · 1 year

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Look at this emo, demon boy. He looks like he is ready for some trouble. ( •̀ᴗ•́ )و ̑̑

For real, though, he gave me sooo much trouble last night. I wanted to draw my demon designs again so I'd originally plan to draw a regular demon in this 'at a rock concert, partying' pose, quickly finding out that attempting to draw a human chin in an upright position was going to be a pain in the ass (although I did manage to figure it out).

Then I noticed that the proportions I'd made for the body did not match an adult male's so I pivoted to a teenage instead (also because I thought it would be easier for me to draw). After this point that I decided to make the character an emo kid and added a wolf theme to it (because early 2000s, the peak of emo fashion and those edgy wolf ocs. No, just me? Okay...).

Next, I had to outline the body sketch I made with a darker pencil since I realized that I would not be able to see the lines I would make for the clothes if I could not see where the body ends and the clothes begin.

Then I'd to look around for references for the clothes this boy needed to wear. Google was not giving me the references I wanted so I used Tumblr to find inspiration instead (I mean, I have an account, might as well use it.). After getting ⋆the vibes⋆, I still had to design a general outfit for him, which meant more searching. (/◡_◡)

When I finally got past the 'Build-a-Wardrobe' phrase and commence drawing him, the jacket decided to be a little troublesome, especially the fur on the right half of the torso. I had to use colour to indicate where the fur was so that it didn't blend into the rest of the outfit. I did, however, noticed that the shoulders were looking odd so I added some fur to them too. (Also, I drew the outline of the pants before deciding on an outfit so I had to design around that. Ripped pants are emo enough, right?)

Once I got past all of that, my pen decided to not work so outlining him was a real sore, especially at certain areas like the horns or fur.

The easiest parts of this drawing were the goat legs and the tail I added after I finished outlining the rest of the drawing, lol.

Anyways, overall I'm proud of him and below the read-more are the main references I'd used. Hope you enjoyed the rest of your day. (ﾐ꒡ᆽ꒡ﾐ)

Reblogs >>> Likes

(The concepts I drew for the main drawing)

https://www.mrporter.com/en-us/mens/product/celine-homme/clothing/leather-jackets/leather-jacket/560971903906151

(There's another reference for the jacket but it seems I can't find it)

This Tumblr post I'd found featuring a belt with a fanged mouth at the front (The demon is wearing it, just due to the size and limitations, I had to simplified it.)

Last, but not least, the jewelry. I mostly just came up with it from my imagination. I noticed that the emo photos I looked at feature at least one form of piecing and I saw an image that shows someone wearing two necklaces. Giving my character a choker, rings and a bracelet just made sense to me.

One bonus piece of reference before I go are these sketches for when I decided to take my first crack at demon design!

#Key's post #Key's artwork #emo aesthetic #art #artists on tumblr

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itssimpleclub · 2 years

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Failure inspires better solutions.

If you are scared to fail, don’t be. It is an important part of your journey. 🦋

If the fear of failure is stopping you from starting something, read below you might find some inspiration to begin anyways.

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ura-writes · 3 years

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Trampolinist - Part Two

Part summary: You encounter a few strange teenagers, discover blown-up ruins, and find out about who caused them.

Warnings: mild anxiety, thoughts of murder, blood, threats, lots of swears

A/N - I got a good few requests asking for a taglist for Trampolinist, so here it is! Just ask and you shall be added!

@lemonmochitea

@dad-ee-drea

@victoria-a567

Also, this is non-canon compliant, but only by a bit. I may change a few small details.

Hope y’all enjoy!

(Also, if you can find the movie reference I put in here, then kudos to you!)

——

A lingering curiosity sits in the back of your head for the rest of the week, not quelled by any amount of Bedwars or Skywars, which leave you exhausted in the evenings.

Even your dreams hold inquisitiveness.

How lovely.

Eventually you have to go back to your home world to check on your animals, repair your tools and the like. It’s tedious work, but nothing you can’t handle.

Boredom eventually sets in.

It’s unnerving. You never get bored of combat, of competition between your fellow players and teammates, but here you are, eyeing the list of servers on your grid.

Only two people are on the server at the moment, their names not available for whatever reason. You’d prefer to pop on when there were no people online, mostly to scope out the server, but you’ll take only having to deal with two people.

Hopefully they’re adults and not kids that recently learned to use portals.

You stick your pointer finger out, curl it like you’re dragging it down a wall; a ripple starts where your finger lands, slowly following its path downwards. It rips a hole through the fabric of woven servers, creating a direct link to the Dream SMP. You just hope that no one attempts to close the portal, as opening one in the first place takes a good deal of energy and effort.

A sight of spruce trees and misplaced dirt greets your vision through the rip in reality.

An odd spawnpoint, but whatever. You’re not one to judge.

In the corner of your eye, where chat normally sits, a message pops up.

TommyInnit: who the fcuck

TommyInnit: what

TommyInnit: NEWY PERFHSAON

Ranboo: ah yes, perfhsaon

TommyInnit: shut the fuck n up

You chuckle at the messages rapidly crowding the chat, watching them fade idly while trying to find a way out of the really weird spawnpoint, which is, for some reason, walled off by a combination of dirt, wood and stone haphazardly placed down, as if in a hurry.

Your efforts do not go unrewarded as you spot a section of the wall that sits lower than the rest, low enough to climb over if you try hard enough.

Perfect.

Feet hit the ground rapidly as you get a running start towards the wall, scrambling upward after you jump. You fall almost immediately off the other side.

“Ouch.”

“That looked like that hurt.”

You glance upward to meet heterochromic eyes, red and green contrasting with the curious face split in half by its black and white sides. A tail flicks behind the person as their crown slips a bit down their head.

“Wh—the fuck?”

The figure laughs at your reaction, offering a gloved hand out to help you off the ground. Hesitantly, you accept, being pulled up easily, and that’s when you realize that he’s a lot taller than you thought.

“Jesus, you’re tall,” you comment idly, brushing yourself off. “Thanks, by the way.”

“No problem. I’m Ranboo.”

You introduce yourself with your tag, which elicits a hum of recognition from him, much to your pleasant shock and surprise.

“You’re the person that Dream invited, aren’t you?”

“In the flesh.”

He laughs at your quip at him, smiling with sharp fangs exposed to the midday sunlight. No point in judging a person on their (potentially, anyway) monstrous features.

“Well, you probably need a tour—“

He’s quickly interrupted by a loud “hey!”

“Oh great,” you mutter, crossing your arms. Ranboo looks a bit sheepish at your cocked eyebrow and slightly irritated expression, scratching his bi-colored hair.

“That’s Tommy. He’s uh… well, Tommy.”

A teenager wearing a red and white shirt and jeans with battered sneakers comes sprinting out of the nearby forest, coming to a halt just in front of you.

“New person!”

“Yeah, and what are you, the gremlin that got fed after midnight?”

The kid sputters out a few protests against being called a gremlin, sprinkling a good few swears in his jumbled sentences that mostly consist of rambles.

When Tommy gets his bearings, he eyes your tag, squinting at it suspiciously before his eyes widen in recognition.

“You’re the bastard that beat the shit out of me in Bedwars! Get ove’ here—“

One of Ranboo’s arms shoots out to grab the lanky teenager with ease to stop his potential assault on you. You just brush your nails off on your shirt.

“Oi! Lemme a’em!”

“No, Tommy, remember what Tubbo said?” Ranboo lectures, tail flicking in annoyance, eyes trained on him. “Remember?”

“You’re one to talk about rememberin’.”

Ranboo cocks an eyebrow.

“No punchin’ people we don’t know unless they’ve hurt us…” Tommy grumbles. “Can ya lemme go now?”

Ranboo agrees, letting go of his shirt and summoning a journal and quill to write something down in, muttering that he’s almost out of ink.

“Anyway, how about that tour now?”

You smile at him.

Maybe you’ll like this place.

——

“...and this is L’Manburg… or what’s left of it, anyway. It’s still being rebuilt.”

“How’d it get destroyed?” you ask him. “It takes a lot of TNT, Withers and dedication to destroy a city this big.”

I should know.

Tommy eyes Ranboo.

“Hey, it’s your city. I’m not explaining it,” Ranboo defends against the wordless accusation. Tommy exhales with a groan and begins his explanation.

“Wil-Wilbur, my brother, went a bit insane a few months back, blew it all up with Technoblade’s help. Wil’s… well, he’s dead.” Tommy sounds indifferent about the death, much to your surprise.

You nod absentmindedly, setting your eyes on a slightly obscured poster that flaps in the wind. When you get close enough to pin it down it reads:

Wanted: Dead or Alive. High Treason, Inciting Violence, Unlawful Use of Explosives, Extreme Terrorism.

Reward: See Authorities

Below that is a well-painted picture of a man you somewhat recognize, wearing a red cape, a crown, full enchanted Netherite armor and carrying an axe that seems to shimmer in the light.

Technoblade. You’ve had a few run-ins with him playing Bedwars and Skywars, even teaming up with him a few times. He always seemed nice enough, and certainly a damn good sword fighter. He always knew when to run and when to stand and fight, when to attack and when to defend.

“What did he do?”

Ranboo starts to speak, but Tommy interrupts him.

“Blew the rest o’ this place up. Bastard ran after that.” Tommy all but spits the words out of his mouth, like they’re acid or venom. “Fookin’ coward.”

Well, I wouldn’t call ‘knowing when to run’ cowardice, but we’ll pretend I agree, child.

“No one knows where he is now,” Ranboo adds. “Except Phil, of course. But he’s pretty much silent about it. Won’t give up a word of information.”

Shouldn’t be that hard to find one man, you muse to yourself. Bet I could.

“Well, I’ll let you know if I find anything out,” you lie with a smile plastered on your lips. “Y’know, as a sort of gift to you as the newest member of the server.”

Hah, as if.

“We’ll hold you to that.”

You nod and say your goodbyes, walking towards the central nether portal while keeping an eye out for an ender chest so you can get some of your stuff. You know the admin will take your elytra away if it so much as comes into contact with the server’s air, so you decide not to risk it.

Spotting one, you make a small noise of triumph and dart over there, grabbing the shulker with your stuff in it, transferring it to your inventory with a practiced ease.

Armor adorns your figure, enchanted Netherite striking an imposing silhouette against the blackstone beneath your feet. You twirl your sword with a grin.

Now to find Technoblade.

——

Turns out, finding a piglin hybrid is not easy.

You scoured the Nether for any sign of him, any trace of fabric, of a broken pickaxe, hell even a piece of iron he may have held. The ability you hold as a Jumper not only allows you to jump servers, but also allows you to find people if you have something of theirs.

Nothing. Zip. Nada. Zilch. Zero. Nil. Absolutely jack shit.

How can one man be so difficult to track down?

Just as you’re about to give up, a barrage of curses at the tip of your tongue, a glint of iron catches your eye.

Odd.

Hopping over a cluster of Netherrack and scaring off a few baby Striders, you see a small circle of iron sitting in a pile of red dust, looking dented and beat up.

You huff and brush the dust off of it, titling your head to the side when it reveals itself.

A compass, pointing in one direction, working even in the Nether.

Standing up, you pocket it and head to the nearest portal, jumping through to the other side only to grab the compass out of your pocket as you walk to who-knows-where. It still points in the same direction as before, only moving when you do.

An irregularity in the metal against your hand inspires you to flip the compass over to look at the back.

What lies there makes you smirk.

Technoblade’s cabin. Phil’s compass.

This might be easier than you initially thought.

#ura!#mcyt x you #mcyt x reader #technoblade x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #x reader #reader insert #Trampolinist: Series

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gothamslittlejester · 4 years

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Obsessive Ledger!joker x reader

I’ve been spoiling you all recently with all this Ledger!Joker, so you’re welcome 😎 (but also so sorry because I did go on a hiatus without saying anything for half a year 😬). Let me know in the asks if you want something in particular, I love writing for J so much! I have a few already that I am working on as we speak, so stay tuned for those 💜

Below are headcannons for a more yandere and darker joker than I usually write 👻 nothing abusive here because J is still very much my comfort character, but it definitely includes over-possessive, protective and stalker themes, as well as encouraging reader to join in on his murderous chaos

Warnings: morally ambiguous reader, joining joker on his “fun” i.e. mentions of torturing others, blood, weapons, severed body parts as gifts, implied seggsy time

· Before adoration, fondness or love, the first feelings Joker had for you was pure obsession. Obsession with what you thought and felt, what you liked to do and why you liked to do them. Obsession with your safety and the need to protect you, which led to jealousy and possessiveness very often. It was primal, and longing, and left him thirsting after your presence like a greedy, hungry wolf. He wanted you- needed you- and he was going to get you

·In spite of a period of flirting, suggestive jokes and hinting touches, Joker made it clear pretty quickly what his feelings were for you. Because of his lifestyle death is like a waiting shadow, and wasting time on what he wants is just not his style

· Quite soon into the beginning of your more romantic relationship, you move into his hideout for the sake of your safety, which calmed J down with some of his possessiveness and paranoid thoughts. He knew his home was the safest place in Gotham, excluding Bruce Wayne’s cave, and with you in it that meant you were safe too.

·When he’s gone, he’ll leave a huge shotgun behind for you to use in case of emergency, as well as Chechen’s Rottweilers. You’ll find some stray knives and pointy objects hidden in your coats too, “just in case”, but its more heartwarming to you than annoying

· He loves to lay on you at night, whether it be right on your chest to hear your heartbeat, or on your belly where he can feel your soft skin pressed against his scared cheeks. Not only is it pleasant and lets his touched-starved soul get some attention, but it also makes him hyper aware of every shift or move your body does while asleep. It also prevents you from sneaking out of the bed to run away, which is one of his more paranoid thoughts. Don’t try to move away or push him off, he will smack your hand back and snuggle in deeper, wrapping his arms around you like a snake

· He doesn’t care what insecurities you have regarding your appearance; he admires every single piece of you and will cuddle with whatever he wants, so push your anxieties aside because Joker hungers for all of you

· His gifts can sometimes be very macabre. Generally, he loves to spoil you with an array of things, such as new clothes or lingerie, plush toys of your favorite animals, snacks you said you’ve wanted to try, or even just random knick-knacks he stole from his victim’s homes. However, if he’s feeling adventurous or extra flirty that day, he will bring you certain body parts to symbolize his feelings for you.

· You’ve definitely found your fair share of human hearts in your fridge, because he adores how your heart races when your scared. You’ve found a pair of lungs stuffed in there too, because the little gasps you make when frightened or anticipating his touch are delicious to him. You went to get milk once and right behind the carton was a tongue, symbolizing how much he relishes your little talks and midnight conversations

· Once, he brought over a whole corpse, the body decomposing and gnarled, skin ripped to shreds and a face pummeled so brutally it had concaved. “Don’t need to worry about them any more doll,” he giggled, spitting on the body with a fervor that thrilled you. It took a few minutes of intense staring- why did they look familiar?- but then it clicked in your mind; it was the very person you had fumed and vented to Joker about last night, right before he had spontaneously left

· “J,” you began, eyes nearly popping out of your head. “Did you kill him... for me?”

· “ ‘Course I did, sweetheart.” He rolled his eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You know I’d, uh, kill anyone for you. Nasty fucks like them especially-ah.”

· If you have to leave for longer periods of time, whether that be for school or work, Joker will always have a few of his men stalking you from a distance, making sure you’re safe and that no one dangerous is within a 1 mile radius of you. They also have explicit instructions to take photos and send them to J, because he likes looking at your oblivious little face.

· He’d do it himself if he has the time, which he sometimes does, but he too is quite busy with his own things (when anarchy calls, as they say), so hiring lookouts is the next best thing. If he could, he’d have you right by his side at all times… how pretty you’d look in a soft purple leash... but that’s just daydream fuel for now

· Speaking of photos, Joker knows his ways around a camera. He makes... lovely home videos that he sends to news channels in his free time (rip fake batman) and he continues to practice at his craft from time to time. He even won a deepweb award for best snuff film of the year, which boosted his ego to ungodly heights. He’s absolutely delighted about it and hints that you should watch it on one of your movie nights, but he does warn it’s not for the faint of heart

· Taking videos and photos are one of his favorite hobbies, and if you’re down to clown… he’d certainly bring it in the bedroom

· Speaking of his more thrilling hobbies, Joker will constantly suggest you join him on his escapades or help out behind the scenes, especially if he picks up on any sort of interest from you concerning his ‘job’. Joker is an observant man, and he reads you like a book. He knows you likely have some dark, sinister thoughts running around in your head - you must, if you’re with him- so he does everything he can to encourage you to let them out. Joker will never judge this side of you, no matter how grim. He’ll try and harness it, bring it to light. He hates the thought of you shying away from your true self, embarrassed of your darker nature, but what he hates even more is you thinking he’ll be disgusted with you or disappointed. How can you think that?

· “No no no, bunny, not me. You’re my muse, so give me some inspiration hmm? Tell daddy exactly what’s going on in that mind of yours...”

· If you do show interest in the darker side of his job, he’d smile so big that his scars take up his whole face. He’d teach you everything; how to fire a gun, how to stab someone, how to hide a body and how to torture one. He’ll spread out all his weapons on the floor and let you choose which one calls to you, like a deranged ceremony, informing you on the pros and cons of each one. He’ll even invite you into the warehouses he designated just for torture, which are just as gruesome and sinful and they sound

· J let’s you watch as he hurts his victims, whom are purposefully rapists and killers to make you feel less guilty, and let’s you join in on the fun whenever you gain the courage. He even went as far as to buy a whole torture set off the black market, from scalpel to needles, just to give you options. Joker loves to see how creative you can get, and it’s one of the few times he lets you take complete control

· “The floor is yours, bunny. Impress me.”

· He is down for pretty much anything, and that mindset is not exclusive just to the bedroom

·Any couple activity you fear might be too far or creepy for other people… is right around J’s alley. Weird kinks or foreplay games you want to try? No problem. Making love in abandoned houses or cemeteries? Now that’s his type of romance. You want to carry a small vial of his blood around your neck? He is all game, but only if he gets one of you as well. Matching knives? He’s blushing. Satanic blood ritual from a sketchy website that’s supposed to bond your souls for eternity? Perfect, his weekend plans were centered around you anyways

· Now…If he feels that you’re not giving him enough attention or start to push him away, he will resort to crazier means to obtain your love back. He’ll set off random bugs, rats or even henchmen into your home to scare you, gleefully waiting to hear you cry out his name in fear. Like a small, dependent little kitten, mewling for their protector. He’d come in, guns ablaze, looking for whatever scared his darling angel, killing them on sight. You’d run into his arms, tears streaming down your face as you cling to Joker like your life depended on it- just how he liked it. He’d coo mockingly and pull you closer, rubbing your back as he unashamedly basked in your physical touch.

· In general however, your soft caresses, kisses and reassuring words are enough to keep him very pleased. He knows you adore him and are head over heels obsessed just like he is, and that truly does put a smile on his face.

#joker x reader #ledger joker x reader #ledger!joker x reader #joker headcannon #dark knight joker #x reader #dark headcannons #yandere

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heyitssmiller · 4 years

Text

Clandestine: Chapter Nine

Another cliffhanger? Me? Nah.

All characters belong to @lumosinlove

@donttouchmycarrots is the best and I love her so much. She also inspired a lot of this chapter’s angst, so it’s not all my fault this time! <3

CW: violence, blood/injuries, guns/gun violence

Clandestine Masterlist

Sirius woke up alone. This in and of itself wasn’t unusual, until he remembered the events of the night before. Wandering hands, soft, needy sighs, and warm lips that kissed him and kissed him and kissed him. He rolled onto his stomach and smothered himself with his pillow to hide the smile that took over his entire face, heart beating giddily in his chest. That happened.

Holy shit.

But that begged the question: where was he?

Sirius stayed in bed for a few moments, thinking that maybe Remus was coming back, but then he got too impatient and crawled out of bed to go searching. If he was camped out in front of that laptop again this early… but no. He was standing in front of the stove, prodding at the contents of a frying pan. The smell of coffee reached Sirius and he smiled again as he entered the kitchen, making sure his footsteps were loud enough for Remus to hear - that way it wasn’t a surprise when he came to stand behind Remus and wrapped his arms around his waist, hooking his chin on his shoulder to watch what was happening on the stove.

A general rule of dating a spy - don’t sneak up on them. It tends to end badly.

“Morning.” Sirius mumbled, turning his head to press a lingering kiss to a tendon in Remus’ neck and smiling against warm skin. Remus hummed, leaning back into Sirius’ chest and angling his neck to give him better access. That simple, innocuous motion stole Sirius’ breath. Remus didn’t trust easily - Sirius could understand why, given everything he’d been through. But there he was, relaxed against Sirius, eyes closed, completely trusting. Sirius wasn’t exactly sure what to do with something so precious, but damn he really didn’t want to screw this up. So he continued to place kiss after kiss to Remus’s skin, finding a ticklish spot right below his ear that made him laugh and squirm in Sirius’ arms before he shoved him away, a wide, happy smile on his face.

Had Sirius ever been this happy before? He doubted it.

“So what’s for breakfast, chef?” He asked, peering at the frying pan. Remus turned the stove off and grabbed plates from the cabinet by the fridge while Sirius grabbed silverware and napkins. It was incredibly domestic. Sirius couldn’t get enough of it.

“Scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee. Nothing gourmet, but it’s the best I can do.” He answered as he scooped eggs out of the frying pan and grabbed toast from the toaster, then handed the plate to Sirius. They took their plates to the tiny kitchen table, along with the coffee and creamer and jams before sitting down to eat.

It was… nice. Their relationship had changed a lot the night before, but it was easy - a seamless transition from friends to more. He’d always assumed there would be some awkwardness with a big change like that, but it felt normal. Remus still teased him for how he took his coffee, Sirius still kicked him for it. They went over their plans for the day and what they wanted to get done. The ease of it all made Sirius wonder just how long they’d been teetering over that precipice.

It also made him feel guilty, how happy he was when his brother was still trapped with the Snakes and Finn still missing. Remus seemed to recognize his shift in emotion and smiled sadly, reaching across the table to tangle their hands together.

“We’re going to figure something out.” He said quietly before taking a sip of coffee, not once letting go of Sirius’ hand but playing with his fingers absentmindedly. It made it a bit tricky to eat, but Sirius couldn’t say he minded one bit.

He hoped Remus was right.

***

“Update?” Talker asked as soon as Remus and Sirius entered the office, looking tired. He kept pace with them as they walked, eager for a response. He and Finn were pretty close, constantly cracking jokes and trading jabs and playing pranks. But then again, Finn was a very outgoing guy - he was pretty close with a lot of people.

Sure enough, as they rounded the corner they found a gathering of people outside Remus’ office, all friends. All worried.

And a stranger standing next to Kasey, watching them as they approached. Red hair, brown eyes, faint freckles.

Remus didn’t have to ask who he was.

He stuck his hand out for the agent to shake. “O’Hara.”

Alex shook his hand briefly, soulful eyes a myriad of warring emotions. “Please tell me what the hell is going on.”

Remus looked at him, then the rest of the people around his office. They all needed to know what was going on, but he felt like Alex deserved the chance to hear this on his own, without the prying eyes of a bunch of strangers.

Sirius seemed to know exactly what he needed. It was like a sixth sense. “Lions, to the conference room! I’ll tell you what we know.” He gave Remus a warm smile, one that he was helpless to return. Last night was… blinding, as strange as it sounded. Sirius was all he could see now - the bright, expressive eyes, full, addictive lips, and wow he needed to get off this train of thought quickly. He had important things to do today.

Sirius seemed to know exactly what was on his mind. His smile turned secretive and sly before he shot Remus a wink and led the way to the conference room, leaving only Alex. Remus looked at him, then jerked his head towards his office. Alex followed after him and instantly sat down in one of the extra chairs, eyes never leaving Remus. He looked tired, worried, desperate for answers.

Remus sighed, an ache in his chest. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like for him, dealing with his younger brother being kidnapped. If it was Jules, Remus would lose his mind. “Let’s just start at the beginning, ok?” And so he did. He went over the general premise of the mission, what they’d done so far, and what went wrong. Alex listened quietly, taking it in.

When they were finally caught up Alex leaned back in his chair, raking a hand through his hair - a motion that was so Finn that Remus had to hold his breath for a second before releasing it. “So do we have any leads? What’s the plan?”

“We’ve got three possible locations. We’re going to try to narrow it down and then send in the two operatives we’ve already got in Slytherin.”

“Finn’s partners.”

There was something about the way Alex said that. The wrinkle in his brow, eyes hard and unflinching. Unforgiving. Remus gave him a look, keeping his voice neutral. “It was a freak accident, O’Hara. Not their fault.”

He wasn’t brave enough to tell the agent how much of that fault rested on his own shoulders. He was basically in charge of this mission. He’d been the one in charge of planning, giving them the go-ahead, looking out for signs of danger. There were signs of the op going bad - he could see that now, in hindsight. But hindsight was always 20/20, wasn’t it?

And now he was sitting here, explaining to the brother of the agent he let get kidnapped that they didn’t really have a solid plan. They were still scattered and struggling to recollect themselves after that disaster of a mission. What exactly was he supposed to say?

Alex ignored his earlier attempt at placation. “You’re telling me that your plan is to send one agent and a rookie safe-cracker into Snakes headquarters and break my brother out? That’s all you’ve got?”

“The rest of us are already on their radar. If we sent in other agents-”

“Bullshit.” Alex growled, leaning forward dangerously. And really, Remus couldn’t fault him for any of this. Their bond ran deep, apparently. “You’re taking down the Snakes anyways, what’s wrong with pushing up the timeline a little? We don’t need to be covert anymore, we need to be dominant and aggressive.”

“That makes your brother collateral damage,” Remus reasoned. “We go in guns-blazing, the first thing they’ll do is make it a hostage situation.”

Alex sighed, his shoulders slumping and all the fight leaving him in a split-second, frustration rolling off him in waves. “Fuck.”

“We’ve got an ex-Snake on the team and a guy on the inside. Potentially,” he felt like he had to add, because he still wasn’t sure what to think of the younger Black brother. Sirius trusted him, sure, but was that enough?

One wrong move and they could lose three agents. This required precision and cunning, not hot-headed recklessness.

“We’re going to do our best to get him out of there.” Remus finally finished, trying to instill confidence with just the words. Alex just smiled sadly.

“Good media answer, right there.”

Remus’ phone buzzed twice in his pocket, signaling an incoming message. He fumbled with it for a second, then looked down at the screen. “Well, I might have a better answer in a few minutes. One of his partners says they’ve got news.”

Remus just hoped it was finally some good news.

***

Logan was still pacing - back and forth, back and forth. It wasn’t a stressed pace this time, exactly. His stride was longer, full of pent-up energy and restlessness. Leo was switching between watching him and reading the messages Regulus sent the night before to Loops and Sirius, who were both listening intently.

“So let me get this straight.” Remus said through the computer speakers. “Regulus said he’d turn off one of the cameras that overlooks a side door, sneak you two in, and then help you get both him and Finn out?” He and Sirius were sitting close together at the conference table, sneaking glances at each other when they thought no one was looking.

Leo smiled knowingly. Good for them.

“Yeah.” Logan said as he continued to pace. “Get in, get them, get out. Simple.”

“Well,” Leo said, stretching out the word and watching Logan’s eyes snap to him. Yeah, he wasn’t going to like this. “According to Reg, one of Riddle’s flash drives is there too - in a safe in his office. Logan can get Finn, and I can-”

“No.”

“Logan,” Leo sighed, giving him a look. “After we get Finn out, they’ll put that place on lockdown. We won’t get another shot at getting this drive and you know it. Plus Riddle’s not even there right now. It’s the perfect opportunity.”

“When did he even tell you that?” Logan asked, staring at him incredulously. “I don’t remember this at all.”

“That would be because I’ve been texting him this morning because I knew you’d react like this.” Leo rushed to finish his sentence and be heard over Logan’s loud dissent.

“React how? Logically?”

“Over-protectively.” Leo corrected, watching the aggravation return to his pacing again as he grumbled something under his breath. “If we get this drive, that only leaves the ones Lestrange and Riddle have on them. Reg said he could probably grab the one Bellatrix has - he can replace it with the fake I slipped into his pocket at the gala-”

“Nut, you can’t be serious.”

Leo glared at him. “It’s a perfectly solid plan.”

“And it’s dangerous!”

“Are you forgetting what our jobs are?” Leo asked with an incredulous laugh. “Everything we do is dangerous.”

“Leo.”

The blond looked to the laptop, where Sirius and Loops were looking back at him. “Back me up here.”

Remus glanced over at Sirius, then back to Leo. “It’s risky, but if you feel like you can do it-”

“I can.” Leo said, no room for argument. The kid who was nervously drumming his fingers against his thigh and staring off into space before his first mission was long gone, replaced by a calm, confident agent - who still drummed his fingers on a regular basis, but who was self-assured and comfortable with his role. Logan wasn’t exactly sure when that had happened, but he was proud nonetheless - even if he was still terrified.

“When’s Reg going for Lestrange’s drive?” Sirius asked, in a similar state as Logan. Worried, but knowing he was fighting a losing battle. This was happening whether they liked it or not.

“She puts it in the same spot every night before she goes to bed, so he’ll grab it right before we get there when she’s already asleep. If we go really early in the morning - like really early - everyone should be asleep, save for a few.”

“They’re cocky like that,” Sirius added, “No one’s ever been dumb enough to try to break in, so they won’t be as prepared for it.”

Leo frowned, not sure whether to take offense or not. “Thanks?”

“So how long do you think getting into the safe will take?” Remus asked, keeping all of them on track, as usual. The steadiness and predictability calmed Logan down, just a little.

Leo shrugged. “Don’t know, depends on what kind of safe it is. Reg doesn’t know.”

“So you’re going in blind.” Logan finished, anxiety churning in his gut. That calmness had lasted all of three seconds. He didn’t like this. There was so much that could go wrong; it was risky enough sneaking in to get Finn out of there, but adding this on top of it? What if one of them got caught? What if all of them got caught? What if Regulus wasn’t as trustworthy as Sirius claimed? What if they were just walking into another trap?

What if, what if, what if. There were too many variables to this, too much at risk.

He’d never really hated his job before. In the past he’d loved the suspense, the intrigue, the unpredictability. He’d grown up wanting a career that had action and adventure, just like the movies he and his sisters used to watch. Now all the things he used to love were the things that were stressing him out the most. But then, he’d never had partners before - definitely not partners he was halfway in love with.

He was starting to hate this job now.

Leo’s voice brought him back to the conversation. “Not really. It’s either going to be a digital safe or manual. I’d crack a digital safe the same way I cracked the ones at the banks, and manual safes are kind of like giant locks. I just feel for the sticking points and do the math.”

“There’s math?” Sirius asked, looking disgusted. Logan thought back to Finn saying the exact same words, all three of them squished together on the bed with a nature documentary playing in the background, warm and content and relaxed. No stress, no sense of impending disaster, no one missing.

He wanted that again, more than anything.

He felt like this wasn’t the way to do it, though. Which was ironic, seeing that he was the one who usually wanted to be reckless. That was his M.O. - the rough, hotheaded agent who wasn’t afraid to take some risks. He completely changed his tune when those risks endangered his partners.

He couldn’t lose them - either of them. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if...

But arguing against this rescue mission was like leading a horse to water - pointless. The only thing left to do was to prepare. So Logan tuned the conversation out and started planning for every possible outcome he could think of. He wasn’t going to be left just reacting, not this time. He was going into this with every last detail mapped out, every potential misstep accounted for, every contingency plan organized in his head.

He wasn’t going to let anything go wrong. He couldn’t.

***

The alarm Leo and Logan had set was essentially useless, seeing that it found the two of them already awake, going over the plan in their heads. Logan stretched his arm out to shut it off, then rolled over to look at Leo. Blue eyes were already staring back, alight with optimism- a stark contrast to how Logan was feeling. He just hoped tonight wasn’t the night he would be disappointed.

“We’re going to get him back.” The blond said, no sleepiness to his voice as he softly leaned in to kiss Logan sweetly, then more enthusiastically. Logan let himself get lost in it for a while, a heart-wrenching distraction, accepting kiss after excited kiss with a sigh against soft lips. He took the lead a second later, pushing Leo back into the mattress and pressing their chests together, getting as close as he could manage and relaxing into the warmth.

“And then we’ll all be together again.” He added after a while, trying to reassure both Leo and himself as he kissed a dimple and earned a smile, bright in the early-morning darkness. “And we can finally have that talk.”

Leo hummed happily and pulled him down for one last lingering kiss before shimmying his way out from under Logan and getting to his feet, hair an absolute mess from a night of tossing and turning and Logan’s hands. Logan felt strangely proud of himself for that.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.” Leo chanted, dashing to his suitcase to grab clothes. His enthusiasm visibly shown in every action - brushing his teeth, pulling on his shoes, grabbing his tools. Logan soon found himself dressed and ready to go, turning his earpiece on and testing his mic. His gun was loaded and ready, a comforting weight at his hip. Leo’s voice echoed in his ear as he tested his mic, loud and clear. His tools were all packed up and smuggled away in his pockets, determination written across his face.

They were going to get him back.

Logan pulled up the directions to the address Regulus had sent them and they hurried to their car, blasting the heat as high as it would go to try and defrost the windows. The clock read 4:13 am as they pulled out of the hotel parking lot and headed down the street.

The drive was tense with anticipation and nerves and adrenaline. Leo’s leg never stopped bouncing from the passenger’s seat as he stared out the window, clearly lost in thought because it was still pitch black outside - he definitely wasn’t looking at anything. Logan kept his eyes on the road ahead and his thoughts on their mission, going over the details one last time as the navigation app instructed him to turn right.

The building they were infiltrating was on the very outskirts of Slytherin, somewhat secluded and run-of-the-mill. If Logan wasn’t sure this was the right place, he would never have guessed this to be a Snakes’ building. Which was probably exactly what they were going for.

Logan drove straight past the building, continuing down the road for a while until he figured they wouldn’t raise suspicion. He put the car in park, switched the headlights off, then turned to face his partner.

“You ready?”

The resulting grin was luminous. “You know it.”

Logan nodded, nerves gnawing away at his stomach, and got out of the car. He and Leo snuck around to the southeast side of the building where they found a door, the light above it flickering occasionally. Leo sent Logan a look, then rapped on the door with his knuckles twice.

A few seconds passed by, then the door opened silently. Regulus Black stared back at them, face as impassive as always. The two agents stepped inside without another word, watching as Regulus closed the door behind them and locked it before turning to face them again.

“I’ve got Bellatrix’s drive,” he said, so quietly that Leo and Logan had to lean in a little to hear him. “Snagged it about twenty minutes ago and replaced it with the fake. She’ll never know the difference.”

“Perfect.” Leo grabbed Logan’s forearm, eyes bright and intense. “You go get Finn, I’ll grab the drive. Meet you back at the rendezvous.”

Logan still didn’t like the idea. He didn’t like the thought of being separated. “Leo-”

“No one’s out this early, it’ll be the easiest grab of my life. I’ll be careful - I’ll be so careful, Tremz. You gotta trust me.” He pressed their foreheads together briefly and Logan allowed himself that one moment to close his eyes and press back, inhaling deeply. He still smelled like the hotel’s shampoo, clean and citrusy. After all this, Logan didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget the smell - or the memories that came with it. He couldn’t quite figure out if that was a bad thing or not. Because on the one hand, there was stress and kidnappings and hurt. But on the other hand, there was exciting, brand new kisses and falling asleep in his arms and the comfort of just being with him.

“Make it quick, ok?” he said finally, reluctantly leaning away and meeting blue eyes. Leo nodded, giving his hand a squeeze, and turned to set off down the hallway. Logan only allowed himself half a second to look after him - if he watched any longer, he just knew he’d start chasing after him, blindly following an angel and not caring where he was going. He’d probably follow him anywhere, if he could. He faced Regulus again instead, who was looking decidedly awkward. Logan just raised an eyebrow at him and motioned for him to lead the way.

His heart hammered louder and louder the more they walked, excitement and worry and adrenaline snowballing together and making his head spin. He could hear Leo’s quiet breathing through the coms, measured and steady and constant like the tide pushing and pulling against the shore. That, more than anything he tried to tell himself, calmed him down.

They reached a nondescript door and stopped in front of it. Logan glanced at Regulus, then back at the door. This was it. Finn was on the other side of that door. He was a paradoxical combination of excited and terrified of what he’d find on the other side of that door.

“I’m just going to wait out here,” Regulus said, moving so that his back was against the wall. “I’ve already witnessed you all soft and mushy tonight - I don’t think I can handle seeing it again. I’ll keep an eye out from here.”

Logan sent him a grin, incredibly pleased with himself and completely unashamed.

He took one last, deep breath and opened the door.

The sound of the door must have woken Finn, because the first thing Logan saw was the shifting of shoulder and back muscles as the redhead sat up with an annoyed grumble. “What the fuck is so important that you feel the need to wake me up this early?” He demanded, reaching up to further tousle his hair as he swiveled around to face the door. Their eyes locked and Finn froze, staring at him with his mouth agape and wide, wide brown eyes, one of which was blackened and swollen. There was blood at the corner of his mouth, dark and distracting. Logan’s breath left him in a rush, like he’d been the one punched in the face.

“Lo,” Finn whispered, that one syllable barely loud enough to reach Logan’s ears. He sat up straighter in an instant and continued to stare, as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. “Logan?”

That was all it took to spur Logan into action. He crossed the room in five quick paces and then he was on his knees in front of Finn, reaching for him hesitantly. Finn practically launched himself at him, arms around his neck and holding tight - almost bruisingly. Logan didn’t care. He’d gladly take the bruises if it meant having his partner in his arms again. It hadn’t even been that long since Logan had seen him, but it felt like an entire lifetime. He hugged Finn closer, probably holding him too tight, before leaning back and looking him over. Frantic hands passed over skin and clothing, feeling for injuries.

“You ok?” He asked, reaching up to tilt Finn’s face so that he could examine the black eye and split lip. Calloused fingers traced gingerly over constellations of freckles, marred by purples and greens and yellows. “God, Finn-”

Finn laughed a little, reaching up to still Logan’s hand and pressing it to his stubbled cheek instead. Logan could feel his smile against his palm and melted. “I’m ok. It looks worse than it actually is, I’m sure.”

You’re still gorgeous, Logan thought as he swiped a thumb across his cheek. He wanted to drown in the sight in front of him. Finn wasn’t great but he was ok and considering the circumstances, that was all Logan could really ask for. He was still livid, of course. And the ones who’d hurt Finn would get what was coming for them. That much he could guarantee.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Finn murmured, still leaning into Logan’s touch. Logan just shook his head firmly, eyes serious. How did Finn expect him to leave him behind? He clearly had no idea just how little they could function without him, the gaping hole he’d left in his absence.

Finn looked over Logan’s shoulder, then back to Logan with worried eyes. “Leo?” He asked and let Logan help him to his feet, favoring his left leg. Logan tightened his grip on his biceps and steadied him before answering.

“Currently? In Riddle’s office cracking a safe.”

Leo’s voice, calm and even, came through the coms. “Tell Finn I said hey.” Logan grinned.

“He says hey.”

Finn looked offended. He leaned closer to the mic Logan was wearing at the collar of his shirt, making the brunet still. The expression on his face - a comical combination of panic and turned-on - made Finn smile as he spoke. “You’re breaking me out of here after I was kidnapped and the only thing you can think of to say is hey?”

“Well, I was planning on saving the sentimental shit for when I actually see you.” Leo said distractedly from his spot on the floor in front of a truly ancient safe, rotating the dial slowly and feeling for the last remaining sticking point. “It’s good to hear your voice, though.”

He heard Logan relay the message to Finn, and then Finn’s resulting coo. Leo laughed under his breath at the sound right as the safe opened with a loud click, opening to reveal nothing inside but a blue and gray flash drive.

“I can’t believe this is the only thing he keeps in a safe like this.” Leo grumbled, reaching forward to make the switch-

Right as the office door opened.

Leo whirled around, slipping the real flash drive into his pocket as he faced whoever had walked in on him.

Unnatural yellow eyes stared back.

And a gun was pointed at his chest.

He could tell Riddle recognized him from the party by the curl of his lips that formed the beginnings of a smile. Cold dread washed over Leo at the bizarre sight. He wasn’t sure anyone had seen the leader of the Snakes smile before. If they did, they hadn’t lived to tell the tale. Leo’s heart raced as all he could do was stand there and stare. His gun sat heavily at his hip, but he knew reaching for it would only speed up the inevitable. He stayed still.

Leo’s partners were still talking over the coms, happy and ignorant of the situation going on right down the hall from them. As Leo stared down the barrel of a gun, he thought maybe it was for the best. Riddle wouldn’t react well to breaking Finn out of here, he knew that much. At least this would be a good distraction - if Riddle was focused on him, he wouldn’t be focused on his partners. Maybe they’d be able to get out of here before Riddle even realized the real reason Leo was in the building.

He’d rather die than give either of them up. He was a little scared at the honesty behind that statement… and the likelihood of it happening much sooner than he’d hoped.

Riddle adjusted his sights without saying a single word, finger against the trigger. Leo sucked in a harsh breath and braced himself.

Bang.

#lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast #coops #sirius black #remus lupin #o’knutzy #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #clandestine #cw: injuries #cw: blood #cw: gun violence

164 notes · View notes

sqsupernova · 1 year

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byunbaekby · 4 years

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title — the following pairing — demon!haechan x female reader, slight jaemin x reader featuring — jaemin as reader’s roommate and crush word count — 6.9k genres — horror, angst warnings — language, religious concepts in accordance to demons and angels, mentions of murder, psychological and physical torture, elements of haunting, choking, degradation in a nonsexual context (donghyuck often refers to y/n as feeble or unintelligent), minor character death inspiration — monster by red velvet

“under a single light, why are there two shadows?” “i’m a little monster, be scared of me / i’ll bother you by making you only dream of me.” “see i’m just playing, no bad intentions / try to come out of the dream but monster lives forever.”

author’s message — for the #neohalloween event hosted by @nct-writers. this is my first time ever writing something of this genre, so i’m very excited and nervous to put this forward. thank you to @give-seconds for proof reading this and making it 100x better! much love ♡

also, this entire scenario is loosely generated from a superstition in hmong culture that you shouldn’t pick up anything you find laying around in public, for you might bring home something else with you.

“Y/N? Is something wrong? Why are you calling me?”

Your roommate’s voice rings clear on the opposite side of the line. Though you’re shivering as a result of the cold, barren winter air, you try to get a response past your shaking lips. “I-I’m walking home, Jaem. Can you… can you stay on the phone with me?”

“Oh.” He immediately gets it; it’s never safe for a young woman to walk home alone, especially not in your neighborhood. “Of course… Where are you?”

You turn into the shortcut, your feet meeting the soft, pliable ground. The cemetery; it’s probably the worst shortcut you could ever take, but it cuts your walk home in half. “The cemetery…”

“Again? I told you that you should stop cutting through there, it’s not safe.”

You register his words in your ear as you eye a black bird resting atop a gravestone, peering at you with bright eyes. Casting your sight away from it, your teeth bite down on your bottom lip, roseate tier captured beneath the sharp incisor. “Walking down the street at this time isn’t safe either. At least here there’s nobody else around.”

Jaemin sighs on the other side. “Even worse, anyone hanging out in a cemetery at…” He pauses, likely to glance at his watch. “10:28 PM, is probably going to be weirder than someone you find out on the street on a Friday night.”

“Hey!” You tell him, clutching your bag close to you. “I’m a person hanging out in a cemetery at 10:28 PM.”

“My point exactly.”

You roll your eyes, a laugh leaving you, but you’re glad for Jaemin’s teasing. It helps get your mind off the fact that the hill you walk past casts a dark shadow over the path. As you walk past, engulfed in what seems to be the darkest area of the entire graveyard, you attempt to make easy conversation with your roommate to get it off your mind.

“Did you eat dinner already?” You ask him, voice low as if someone were listening. Who knows, someone might be.

Jaemin easily sees through what you’re attempting to do, but he follows along anyway because he’s nice. “I did. I tried to wait for you, but you took too long.”

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. “Time passed by me in the library.”

“I know. Like damn, you should really lay off the studying sometimes and have fun.”

“I know, I know. You tell me, Renjun tells me, Professor Kim even—woah!”

You drop to the floor, the air flying out of your chest and dissipating into nothingness as you fall forward onto your chest. All the contents of your bag spill out, along with your phone, which lies a few feet away on the dirt.

Groan escaping your lips, you look down at your white jeans. Completely stained and covered in dirt. Damn.

“Y/N? Hello? Y/N, you there?”

You can hear Jaemin’s muffled worried tone from where you are, but you focus on gathering your things from your bag first before you grab the phone. In the darkness of the night, you can’t even see everything, you just hope you manage to grab everything. It would definitely be your worst nightmare if you lost your Calculus homework due on Monday to the graveyard because you hadn’t grabbed it.

When you finally return everything to your bag, you press the phone to your ear. “Hey, sorry, I tripped.”

“You had me worried there! I was about to run out there myself,” nags Jaemin, and you can see in your mind the way his dark eyebrows must be furrowed in distaste.

“Sorry Jaem,” you apologize to him as you scurry down the path, ready to be free of the cemetery’s unsettling aura as soon as possible. “Please tell me you saved me some food, I’m starving...”

He feels it when you walk in. He senses the irrefutable change in the air, smells your delectable scent with his sharpness. His grave sits at the very top of the largest hill, giving him the perfect place to watch you from. The cemetery becomes alive with your entrance.

Ironic, isn’t it?

Sitting rather stylishly with his thin, gauntly body atop his gravestone, Donghyuck watches you with sharp, focused eyes. You’re so pretty. He smirks, observing the way you flutter through the graveyard, feet barely touching the ground in your feeble attempt to escape the ominous lot as soon as possible.

“Walking down the street at this time isn’t safe either. At least here there’s nobody else around.”

That’s where you’re wrong.

The dark demon can hardly keep the devilish grin off his tiers, watching you. Beautiful, you are.

He’s seen you a few times, in the handful of times you’ve dared to cut through the cemetery on your way home. With an amused, almost teasing shake of his head, he tsks. “Bad decision, little lamb.”

“Did you eat dinner already?” You ask whoever you’re speaking to on the phone. Donghyuck can barely remember what human food tastes like. As a demon, he doesn’t eat humans, let alone get hungry, but if he had a choice, you’d definitely be his first choice.

Your soul is good. He wants it.

If he can’t have you, at least he can play with you a little.

It doesn’t take much. The moment you glide through the path and under the darkness of his hill, all it takes is the slightest snap of his fingers to send you flying forward. He’d love to make you stay down there, perhaps drag you down below with him, but that would be no fun.

Rather, he plucks off one of his rings, one of the many decorating his hands for absolutely no one to see, and tosses it seamlessly into the pile of your things spilled across the path. As he watches the way you carelessly shove everything back into your bag, his Cheshire grin grows even wider. Now, he has a reason to leave.

As you scurry away, Donghyuck jumps off his grave which he had occupied for decades, and lands on his feet. With a wipe of his hands on his jeans, he watches you go.

“Stupid little lamb. Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to take things that aren’t yours?”

The rest of the walk home, you can swear there are steps behind you matching yours.

When you get home, you quickly slide into your bedroom amid Jaemin’s nagging sounds and slip off your white (well, brown now) jeans from your legs. After getting on some more comfortable clothes, you grab your dirtied jeans and make your way to the bathroom.

The restroom, however small, still has room for a washer and dryer, which you’re thankful for, seeing as you and Jaemin don’t have to pay a laundromat for your weekly laundry. You toss your jeans in the washer; normally you wouldn’t wash just one garment, but the dirt would likely stain your perfectly white jeans. After pressing start you make your way to the kitchen, where your roommate is reheating dinner for you.

The image of Jaemin’s broad back standing at the stove makes you smile to yourself for just a millisecond, so quick that it’s fleeting. Before you can take another moment to admire your roommate however, he turns to you with his trademark smile. “Hey, pick a movie. Let’s watch something.”

About fifteen minutes later, you’re eating your leftovers on the couch, Jaemin’s arm spread over your shoulders while the beginning scenes of The Conjuring play. You don’t have much, the apartment barely enough for the two of you to inhabit, and Jaemin is only your roommate, but you’ve gotten used to these kinds of nights. Simple, easy, sweet.

The light remainder of Jaemin’s daily cologne mixed in with his gentle cotton scent pervades into your senses, and you lean your head onto his shoulder with a smile. You’ve always wanted to be more with Jaemin, but you could settle for these comfortable nights of movies and platonic cuddling.

It’s something about having a full belly, Jaemin’s warmth, and the everlasting light traces of his scent that has you falling asleep, eyes drooping closed slowly into a peaceful suspension of consciousness.

You wake the first morning.

You don’t even remember falling asleep, but it doesn’t surprise you when you wake up in bed. Recently you’ve developed a habit of falling asleep on movie nights, and Jaemin is always kind enough to place you gently back in your room.

Wiping the sleep from your eyes, you let out an unearthly sound as you sit up and stretch your arms above your head. When you unsheath the blanket from your legs, your unprepared toes meet the cold wooden floor, causing you to flutter across the room quickly and into the living area.

It’s Saturday, but Jaemin volunteers at the hospital on Saturdays, so you only prepare a bowl of cereal for yourself. If your roommate were here, he’d probably scold you for the lack of nutrition, so you toss a couple of berries into your frosted flakes.

After you finish up, washing your bowl at the sink, your eyes widen in realization; you left your jeans in the washer! Falling asleep mid-movie had caused you to completely forget about them, not drying them before you slept like you had told yourself. God, they probably stink by now, sitting wet for hours.

But when you slide open the door to the bathroom, you see your jeans resting atop the drying machine, folded neatly like they had been waiting for you. Perhaps they were.

Ah, you realize, mouth parting just the slightest. Jaemin must have dried them and folded them before he left for the hospital this morning. Another grateful smile spreads across your visage; you really do have the best roommate.

You spend the rest of the day studying, and prepare a nice dinner (which also means going grocery shopping) for Jaemin, as a little thank you for always being so thoughtful. He appreciates it when he comes home to a fully cooked meal, and there’s something about the way he smiles that has you feeling as though you’ve finally done something good to amount to all the times he’s saved your ass as a roommate. When the night ends, you both retire to your rooms.

In your lovesick daze, you fail to recognize that under the single lighting of your room, there are two shadows.

VII.

On the seventh day, Donghyuck’s displeasure is enough to choke him—that is, if he needed to breathe.

He had wanted to tease you, follow you home and play with you a little before revealing himself. But God, you are so dumb; he should have expected as much from a feeble, stupid little sheep anyways.

That first night, testing the waters, he had done your damn laundry for you. It was just a little fun, to get the ball rolling. Any superstitious person would have known. And what did you do? You had thought it to be your roommate. As the days went by, his teasing grew in quantity and intensity; hiding your keys, ripping apart your essays, perhaps all the menial and annoying things that some stupid schoolboy would do to grab the attention of a girl he liked. But your attention is lost, and he is not a stupid schoolboy. No, he is far from it.

Even as his antics have built up throughout the following days, you always found some excuse to play it off; you must be more clever than he thought. No, you weren’t; you were either extremely clumsy and forgetful, or you were simply denying his existence. It’s time to make himself known.

VIII.

It’s the eighth night when he appears in your dreams. No, not he. It.

You can sense it, the moment your suspension of consciousness becomes overtaken by him and you find yourself in a simple black room. It seems to extend in every which direction, as though you could run off in any given direction and never hit a wall. But you feel it watching you.

He’s behind your shoulder, and the moment his low, amused chuckle is heard in your ears you swipe around to face him, eyes wide. He’s beautiful; dark brown hair, smooth skin, a captivating honey color, and dark eyes.

Those eyes.

They pierce into your soul, as though they can see right through you. They probably can. He is not a person, you know. He is… more.

Dark eyes once overtaken with curiosity are now characterized by bleak amusement. Your breath hitches, and his voice comes out low. “Welcome.”

“What is this? Where am I?” Your voice comes out rapidly, shaking. You know nothing of this… thing before you but you can’t help but feel unsafe under its gaze.

“Now, that’s not very nice. I am very much a person, not an it,” he smirks beneath the shadow which casts itself upon his visage. You freeze; he can hear your thoughts.

This realization only further widens the Cheshire grin across his lips, and instinctively you take a step back further into the black nothingness. “G-Get out of my head,” you threaten to no avail.

The same mocking laugh leaves his lips. “Sweetheart, this is your head. This entire place is of your making. If you hate it so much,” he says, and suddenly he’s in front of you. His hand leaves the pockets of his black bottoms, lithe digits suddenly cupping your chin and tilting it upward so you are staring right into his dark empty orbs which come to life with the image of you. His fingers, dressed in various shades of gold rings, grip you. You should feel his warmth on your skin, you should feel the radiating human heat that you so often feel with Jaemin.

“Erase me from it.”

But you don’t feel anything behind his callused skin, and that’s what scares you the most.

Your throat runs dry and when he parts his lips, even his breath is cold. “But you’re scared.” When you fail to respond, he licks his lips, and his next words are characterized by sarcastic rancor. “What’s wrong? There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“Unless…” At this point, under his burning gaze that contrasts the ice-cold emptiness against your skin, your knees begin to buckle. The smile which accompanies his next words, revealing his pearly whites and perhaps his intentions, is sinister: “You’re not afraid of demons… are you?”

IX.

You wake in a cold sweat, and you’re more aware of Jaemin’s soothing voice telling you to breathe than the fact that you’re not breathing. Chest heaving and eyes wide, you search for something in Jaemin’s eyes to tether you back to earth, back to reality.

He’s not real, he’s not real. He can’t hurt you.

It was just a dream.

“Hey, hey,” Jaemin calls out to you, hands on your shoulders to steady you from your previous thrashing. You had awoken him with your screaming. “You okay? Breathe, Y/N, just,” he takes a pause to take a deep breath, silently instructing you to follow with him. “Breathe.” In a few moments, when your breathing pattern has begun to return to normal, steady breaths, he asks again, voice dripping with nothing but pure concern for you, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod. It’s the first word you’ve spoken, so your voice comes out scratched and you’re reminded just how much air you need to actually speak coherently. “It was just… a bad dream.”

“Sounded a lot worse than a bad dream…” He responds, taking his respectful hands off of you and tucking them into the loose pockets of his fleece pajama bottoms. An image flashes before your eyes: that… person, hands tucked leisurely into their pockets, ominous smile enough to make you wonder what they were hiding in there.

You blink, closing your eyes tightly and shaking your head, as though it could shake the image from your mind. When you open them once more, Jaemin is still standing next to your bed. “I’m okay, I promise,” you tell him, though it feels more as though you’re speaking to yourself. “Thanks.”

“Any time,” responds your roommate, who offers you a reassuring smile and another worried look before slipping out of your bedroom. When you’re finally alone, you bring a hand up to your forehead, where sweat has made your skin clammy and sticky.

You’re warm. He is not.

XII.

“You’re a demon.”

You say this on the twelfth night, finding yourself once again stranded in the same dark and endless room with the sharp-eyed devil. This time, there are two chairs and the two of you sit facing each other. He sits as though he has all the time in the world, and perhaps he does. Legs crossed leisurely and arms over his chest with his head tilted at you, he stares.

With your tense posture in your own chair, you wonder fleetingly how enough light exists in this black room that you can never seem to avoid staring at his mocking facial expression. You gulp, gripping onto nothing as you tighten your fists to prevent them from trembling. He’s not real, you have to remind yourself.

“When did you figure that out, little lamb? When I told you, probably?” His tone is insulting, as though you were stupid. You narrow your eyes, biting the flesh inside your cheek.

“Aw,” he coos, grinning at you with dark beguilement. “You’re frustrated.”

“Duh, I’m frustrated,” you huff, blowing some air from your mouth to push away a strand of hair that has fallen into your face. “You keep bringing me here with no jurisdiction or knowledge of who you are.”

“Fine,” he acquiesces. “Three questions. Don’t make them stupid, though I know that’s hard for an incompetent human like yourself.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I haven’t quite figured that out yet. Next question. I’ll even be nice enough to abstain that as a question,” he responds, as though he’s doing you a favor.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Being a demon is rather boring, you see. Not here, not there.” He waves his hand around, as though pointing to heaven and its counterpart. “I found you, and you intrigued me.”

He leans forward, resting his chin in his palm. “Or rather, you found me. You invited me in.”

“I never did that,” you reply, indignant.

“But you did.” A dark eyebrow raises at you, and you bite down on your lip to prevent your anger from rising. “You never checked your bag, did you? Never found a gold ring, maybe?” He lifts his chin off of his palm, stretching out his fingers as though they were cramped. “Maybe one with DH engraved in it.”

You had. You had found the ring in your bag on Saturday and had figured it to be one of your own negligible accessories, tossing it into your jewelry box. Had there been letters engraved on it?

At the look on your face, a smile spreads across his features. “So you do remember.”

Despite the umbrage bubbling in your stomach, perhaps more feisty than you should be in the presence of a self-proclaimed demon, you have another question. Leaning forward just the slightest you ask, “Why haven’t you hurt me? Isn’t that what demons do?”

There’s a glint in his eye, and the easy-going expression on his face is quickly replaced by a darkened simper. “Do you want me to hurt you?”

Your fists tighten again. “N-No…”

“Don’t tempt me.” His voice is dark now, his earlier lilted tone now descending into a deep pit. It’s almost demanding, as though he’s daring you to push his buttons and send him plummeting into a torturous rage. At the look of fear that swipes across your face, he chuckles once more. “Relax, little lamb. I’m just playing, no bad intentions here.”

You don’t believe him, not even for a second. If he’s really what he says he is… why does he torture you in this way, making you only dream of him? You push the thoughts from your mind, knowing that he has full access to your brain. “What’s your name?”

“Now you’re asking the good questions. You may call me…”

The corner of his lips tug upward into a smirk.

“Donghyuck.”

XIII.

The titles should shock you more than they do.

University Student Pleads Guilty to Murder of Three Female Students

College Killer: More Murders Revealed In Trial of Lee Donghyuck

Lee Donghyuck, Murderer of At Least Thirteen Victims, Sentenced To Death Penalty

He’s real.

It’s Friday night again, and you find yourself back at the library. Except this time, it’s not calculus nor world history that you are pondering. It’s not your psychology textbook that you are poured over.

No, the archives are open, and all it took was a little keyword into the filter to find just what you’re searching for. The only word you needed: Donghyuck.

He hadn’t been lying. Not about his identity or his demonic status.

When you read over the headlines and their accompanying stories, you don’t realize the way your pupils begin to shake, or the way that your heartbeat begins to accelerate as the truth dawns upon you.

He is real, he is dangerous, and he is haunting you.

XIV.

“So you know who I am.” It’s less of a question, more of a statement. Tonight, there is only one chair and you are sitting in it as Donghyuck walks circles around you. There are no chains, no straps to hold you down to the chair but you cannot move. Despite what he had told you the first night, that this is all your dream and that you have the ability to change anything, the opposite seems true.

He disappears behind you, and suddenly his voice is in your ear. Your breath hitches at the sudden gust of cold air on your sensitive skin as he speaks. “Are you afraid?”

“No.”

“You forget I’m in your head, sweetheart. I know everything, so don’t lie to me.”

He’s caught you.

You say nothing, and so he stands straight and makes himself present in your vision again. “It’s okay to be scared. It’s in your feeble nature.” His finger starts at your hand, bringing a chill down your spine. As he drags it slowly up the scope of your exposed arm, you hardly resist the instinct to shiver. “I just want to know, what are you afraid of?”

“Is it…” he speaks softly, teasingly throwing each word in your ear, like tossing small bites to a starved dog. “That I know each of your thoughts the moment you think it, and you only know my name? That I’m a dark spirit and can bring you enough pain to make you forget your name with just a snap of my fingers?”

His trailing hand, once tracing over the curve of your clavicle, suddenly grips your neck. Though only a light pressure is applied, you feel the wind knocked out of you by his sudden, unforeseen movement. “Or is it that because of me, sixteen women died and you might end up the same?”

With the little air you have left, you manage to squeeze out, “They said thirteen.”

Amusement shows on his visage before he finally lets your throat go, and you heave as you attempt to refill your lungs with air. “No,” he corrects, moving back to his original space, circling you like a shark locking its prey in uncharted waters. “They said at least thirteen. They never found the other three.”

The thought is enough to make you sick, but before you can manage to swallow down the bile attempting to rise up your throat, he speaks. “Don’t worry about them too much, my little lamb. You’ll join them soon.”

“You’re lying,” you spit out. “You keep threatening me, but you’re all talk and no proof. You can’t do anything to me, that’s why you only bother me in my dreams.”

Your sudden and unexpected quip seems to, rather than upset him, entertain him. “You think I can’t do anything to you outside of this box? Funny,” he scoffs, though he still maintains that grin on his lips. “Humans are so cocky, I learned that after they killed me.”

He stops pacing, and instead kneels before you, his face placed before yours. “I’ve done things, sweetheart. Remember the pants? The essay you spent five hours on torn up the morning after you printed it out? How about the dress you bought that I cut up until there was nothing left but shreds? You got really mad at your friend for quote-unquote, ‘pranking’ you.”

But Donghyuck is nothing if not honest. You’ve learned this.

“But on some level, you’re right.” His hand reaches up once more, but instead of resting it on your shoulder again, he gently caresses your cheek. It would be soft, romantic in any other case. But no, his touch makes your skin crawl. “I can’t hurt you, and I don’t know why. Don’t worry, I want to, but outside this dream…” His hand stops, and grips your chin instead. “I physically can’t. Tell me why?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“You have a cross on you somewhere, little lamb? Or, a guardian angel?”

“I said I don’t know,” you repeat, voice louder as you turn your head sharply, ripping your chin from his grasp. In your ear, he tsks.

Now you’ve done it.

“Getting too comfortable, aren’t we? You’re forgetting who’s in charge here,” he says, voice dipping into dangerous territory as he reaches forward, gripping your throat once more. But this time, he digs his nails into the softness of your skin, and your choked scream is caught in your throat by his hands before it can ever leave.

“Y/N! Y/N, wake up!”

Jaemin’s voice is the only thing carrying you back to sanity, and when you finally force your eyes open he’s before you, gripping your arms once again to prevent you from thrashing about. “It’s just a dream, it’s just a dream,” he coos out in worry as you finally come to.

Your hand immediately flies to your neck which is, to your relief, not at all sore. The moment your eyes fall on him and you realize that the hand around your neck is no more, you fall into a bout of tears. Instinctively, your roommate holds you to his chest in a protective hug whilst you sob into his chest.

It’s not real, it’s not real. You keep telling yourself this like a mantra in your head as Jaemin rubs your head soothingly. But why does it feel so real?

“It’s okay,” Jaemin continues telling you, voice soft as his sweet familiar scent pervades your senses once again and your tense muscles begin to relax.

Minutes pass before you’ve calmed down, outright sobs now quiet whimpers. Jaemin begins to set you down back into bed, but you grab at his wrist before he can set you down. “What, what is it?” He asks, eyes immediately scanning your body for any sign of distress.

“Can you… can you stay with me?” It’s a large request, perhaps much too intrusive for someone who is supposed to just be your roommate. But lately, Jaemin feels… much more. Every night as you’ve been plagued by Donghyuck’s presence in your haunting nightmares, he has come to save you when you’re falling apart in screams.

He feels like a friend, and a… a protector.

Not at all fazed by your sudden request, Jaemin wears an abiding smile and nods. “Of course,” he says, sliding into your bed whilst you move over to make room for him. You feel much safer with him around, and now with him in your bed, your personal dreamcatcher, you naturally find yourself in his arms once more while you drift away into sleep, Donghyuck’s presence no longer occupying your dreams.

Neither of you take the time or attention to look, for if you had you would have seen, in the corner of the room furthest from the window, where the darkened corner seems to extend into an infinite world of black, Donghyuck looking less than pleased.

Your roommate needs to be handled.

XXI.

Something seemed to have changed that night when Jaemin first slipped into your bed. You have since not dreamed of Donghyuck even once, and you definitely do not miss him. Perhaps he is gone for good.

How stupid of you to think so, even knowing what Donghyuck is capable of. Perhaps you never truly knew, not before now, just how powerful he is, or just what kind of chaos he can incite.

It’s 3 PM on the twenty-first day when you finally find out just how evil he is.

Jaemin is in the hospital.

You had gotten the call on the bus ride home from campus; your roommate, jokes and boyish smiles for all the time you’ve known him, had been hit by a car just outside your apartment building. Now, he is in the hospital with broken ribs and a herniated disk, barely holding on for his life in a coma.

You’re not allowed in his room, but you do catch a glimpse of your roommate when his physician enters, and just the sliver of him that you see is enough to make you turn your head away.

You know who is responsible for this.

The door to your bedroom is thrown open, and before you can recognize the emptiness of the apartment without Jaemin’s presence around, you’re screaming into the void.

“I know you’re listening, you dick! Show yourself, fucking coward!”

The obscenities that leave your mouth seem to do the trick because before you can register it, you’re on the floor. As though the carpet is pulled out from under you, you go flying forward and the wind is knocked out of you as you meet the ground chest first.

You don’t have any time to breathe or recover, as immediately there is a force pulling you up by the shirt, and suddenly you’re no longer standing on the ground.

You see him.

You’ve seen him before, of course. He’s appeared in your dreams enough to have his sinister expression sewed in your thoughts at all hours of the day. But now… now he looks stronger. Less pale and more colorful. Even the aura which exudes from him… is more dangerous than ever.

Yet, he still wears that shit-eating smile on his lips as he watches you float in the air, collar squeezing at your throat and looking completely powerless. “Now, little lamb, those are not very nice words,” Donghyuck chastises as he approaches you. When he’s finally before you once more, he twitches his eyebrow upward just the slightest. “Missed me?”

“Not at all,” you manage, gathering the spit in your mouth to chuck it out at him.

Not even fazed, he simply wipes at the spit on his face, flicking it off in a negligible direction. “I’m not feeling welcomed,” he comments.

“Because you’re not,” you retort, thrashing about to no avail. “What did you do to Jaemin?”

The mention of your now critical roommate only makes his grin grow wider. “You see, sweetheart, I thought you’d be pretty proud of me. I found out what was keeping me from being able to inflict any real damage on you,” he says whilst his cold hand comes out to squeeze at your cheeks. “Your guardian angel has been taken care of.”

Wait, what? Then it dawns on you.

Jaemin is… your guardian angel.

“You look surprised. That’s okay, I didn’t know either.” Donghyuck releases your face, instead choosing to pace left and right before you, though he never lets his eyes leave you. “But then he started sleeping with you, and I couldn’t get into your mind. I put two and two together. With him around, I’d never be able to touch you.”

The glint in his eyes turns feral. “And you have an embarrassing school girl crush on him, so I was able to kill two birds with one stone. With every second that passes, his life is draining away, and I’m only getting stronger.”

“Why are you doing this?” You cry out once again, though your voice is more desperate than it had been the first time around. “What do you want?”

“You see, I figured that out too.” His mocking tone begins to seep away and is instead replaced by that familiar dark timbre of his as he approaches you once more, gripping your chin again in his fingers. Tilting your head up harshly, he stares endlessly into you and whispers, “I thought I was done with those petty murders, that the sight of women begging at my knees like dirt for mercy wouldn’t excite me as much anymore. But no… I want you to suffer. I want to destroy you, take away your happiness, and break you piece by piece, until you’re just begging for me to take you out of your misery.” The semblance of a smirk quirks at his lips. “Just like those other girls. Except this time, there’s no limit to what I can do. And when you do die, I’ll be right here to welcome you back.”

Tears sting your eyes at the horrible things he whispers to you, but you refuse to capitulate to him. “I’d rather die than do anything you say.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be dead just as soon. The fun hasn’t even started yet,” he teases. Suddenly, it’s as if the paranormal restraints on your limbs are cut free, as your body immediately falls to the floor, collecting in a pile. You hardly have the energy to lift your head, but you register the sound of Donghyuck’s voice as he walks away from you. “Rest up tonight, little lamb. You’ve got a long eternity ahead of you.”

Then he’s gone. You swear you will make use of the last twelve hours of your life.

First, you visit Jaemin again. You know you’re not allowed in, but you know his room number and there’s no one coming in to check up on him, you hope.

You don’t know if he really is your guardian angel, but above that, he is your friend.

“Hey,” you say softly, making your presence known as you sit down in the chair beside his hospital bed. It’s arbitrary… you know Jaemin doesn’t have parents around, and perhaps that only lends to the possibility that he really is someone sent here to protect you.

“How are you?” You scoff at yourself. “That’s stupid of me to ask, you’re in a coma. I don’t know if you can hear me, or if you really are an angel, but thank you, Jaemin. For always… always being there for me, protecting me. Walking me through the cemetery, making dinner for me, chasing my nightmares away.”

Sitting there, staring at your friend’s lifeless body laying on the bed looking gray as a sheet, tears begin to sting your eyes. “I’m sorry for bringing you into this, I should have listened to you when you told me to be careful. And if I have to lose someone as amazing and… pure-hearted as you, I don’t think I can live with myself. So please, even if you don’t make it out of here, please… stay by my side.”

As your first tear breaks the barrier and begins to coast down your cheek, you reach out and grab his hand. It’s cold.

XXII.

It’s a little past midnight and though your fingers shake from the cold, you throw everything of yours that he’s touched into the bucket.

Even the things you weren’t completely sure of, you toss away anything that could have been influenced by his dark magic; the leftover shreds of your essay that you had recovered from the recycle, the pieces of fabric that he had obliterated your dress to, the white jeans you had worn that first night, and more. Finally, you throw in that godforsaken ring that had started it all.

You swore that you would never return to the cemetery again, but here you are. This time, you really can see everything at the top of the hill. You turn your head back to glower at the tombstone before you.

Lee Donghyuck.

What a piece of shit.

Though your fingers shake, you light the match without trouble. When you toss it into the basket of forsaken belongings, it is only a matter of seconds before Donghyuck appears, tethered to his tombstone once more.

Gripping at his body, he snarls out at you, “What the hell are you doing?”

That, you hardly even know. Following only the speculations found on the internet, you had unknowingly lured your monstrous demon back to his home.

It seems to work, as the greater the fire grows, the more pained Donghyuck’s expression seems to become.

Your voice finds its strength as you announce your intentions. “Erasing you.”

“You can’t do that to me, you don’t get to win!” Donghyuck yells in growing anger, reaching out to you but failing. With this inability of his to touch you, you tilt your chin higher, the orange tint of the flames reflecting off your strengthened pride.

“I believed you all this time, I let you scare me into thinking that you could overpower me. That you could hurt me,” you muse, staring without remorse at his pained form. “But I was wrong. You only exist as long as I let you. You can only hurt me as long as I believe you can.”

“I’ll be back,” declares Donghyuck as the fire roars, only sending him further into a realm of pain. Whilst he grips his limbs in pure fury, you shake your head.

“No, you won’t. Because you were right, this is my world. I’m the one with the power here: I have blood flowing through me, I have oxygen in my lungs, and I have a soul. You have none of those.” With your anger bursting at the seams, you kick over the metal bucket burning from the inside, instead tossing the trash over the dirt of Donghyuck’s grave. “And because of that, I’m not scared of you.”

As the fire burns out at the final thread, and the spirit which had infested your mind for twenty-two days begins to fade away in a fit of rage, you offer him the same powerful, mocking smile he had tattooed into your mind.

“Goodbye, Donghyuck. Rest in hell.”

CCCLXV.

“Hey, did you do the notes from the last lecture?”

Flipping through your binder, you nod and pull out the said notes, handing them over to the student sitting next to you. At this point, you’ve learned enough about her to know that on Mondays, she always asks for the notes. You’ve started printing extra copies for her.

It’s been a year.

You had taken a year off of university to return home. After everything that had happened and Jaemin’s death, you simply couldn’t bear to even step into your old apartment anymore. Over time, you’ve found that you’ve healed and you are no longer afraid.

Not afraid to return to school, at least.

“Here you go,” you tell her as you hand over the notes. “You can keep that copy.”

The look she wears is grateful. “Thanks!”

“Hey,” calls a voice on your right. “Do you have a pen?”

“Sure, I—” You start, reaching into your pencil bag, but stop when your gaze falls upon the owner of the voice.

No, it can’t be. It just can’t.

Before you is Donghyuck. Except it’s not. He’s… different.

His hair is no longer brown, but rather a light shade of blonde that accentuates his honey olive skin tone. Rather than all black, he is dressed in a cream-colored sweater and a pair of light washed ripped jeans. Most strikingly of all, his signature sharp eyes are no longer clouded by dark evil, but are light with the sweet smile that he wears on his lips.

No… it’s not Donghyuck. After your return home, you had begun to see his face everywhere, and have since learned to distinguish between reality and trauma. When the stranger catches you staring, he tilts his head, smile growing further. “I’m Haechan.”

Shaking your head slightly to clear the thoughts, you go back to searching for a pen in your bag. “Uh, hi Haechan. Here you go,” you say as you hand the pen over to him.

When your fingers brush just the slightest, he’s cold.

You pull your hand back quickly, as though you had been burned. No, you tell yourself. It’s cold in here, the air conditioning is always on in the lecture hall. Turning back to face forward in your seat, you try to calm your breathing, pulling your cardigan closer to cover you. The stranger next to you pulls out a notebook from his bag, and in full view, begins to write in the corner.

Your professor is speaking, clicking on his projector, when Haechan slides his notebook over to you. There, written in perfect handwriting…

I told you I’d be back.

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