#still love this and I'll still print it out

[hypnobeauty]

a chance encounter - a cho hyun-ju x reader fic (part 12)

summary: a story about how you and hyun-ju met and the following years of your relationship. masterlist cw: no use of y/n, reader is afab, squid games, blood, violence, hints of transphobia and homophobia, author cannot do math. a/n: hello lovelies! this took forever and it is not as good as i hoped. writer's block has been kicking my ass for the past weeks--- haven't even replied to most comments on the last part. sorry for it! i'll catch up, i swear. as always, enjoy xx comments are always welcome, i giggle and kick my feet whenever i read them. silly pinterest board i've been curating over the weeks taglist: @strayteez3staner @dekiruxxx @jeongteen @sunnysurvives @3leni @etta-huracan @honeyhyunju @basoressia @antisocial-aina @googie-jeon @christinamadsen @deernat @vvlwvvy @psychobitchsthings @dikeu-yoiz

part 12. player 120 and player 133

the first thing you felt was disorientation.

the light was too bright, searing through your closed eyelids and pulling you from unconsciousness. the music was too loud, making your head throb, a dull, persistent ache that seemed to echo with every beat of your heart. you blinked against the brightness, your vision swimming as you tried to make sense of your surroundings.

the ceiling above you was unfamiliar—smooth white tiles with fluorescent lights that buzzed faintly. you turned your head slowly, your body sluggish, and realized you were lying on a bed. no, not just a bed—a top bunk bed.

panic began to creep in as your senses sharpened. the room was massive, far larger than any space you’d ever been in. rows upon rows of identical black metal bunk beds stretched out before you, stacked four high like a factory assembly line. the walls were tiled in white, adorned with strange decals of sports figures that gave the space an odd resemblance to a school gymnasium.

you sat up, your movements stiff, and looked down at yourself.

the green tracksuit caught you off guard. it was simple, plain, with the number 133 printed in bold white on the chest and back. beneath the jacket, a white shirt bore the same number. your feet were covered in white socks and plain white loafers.

a sinking feeling settled in your stomach as you realized your own clothes were gone.

you tugged at the waistband of the tracksuit pants, peeking underneath to find black, nondescript underwear. everything you’d been wearing—the cardigan, the jeans, the sneakers—was gone. your breath quickened and you quickly placed your hand on your neck, and sighed in relief to find hyun-ju’s locket still there. you ran your hands over your body as if searching for some other trace of familiarity. but there was nothing. no bag, no phone, no wallet.

the panic surged.

“where am i?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

your eyes darted around the room, taking in the sheer scale of it. hundreds of people were scattered among the beds, some sitting, some lying down, others pacing restlessly on the floor. they were all wearing the same green tracksuit, each with a unique number printed on it.

it felt like a nightmare, one of those dreams where nothing made sense, but the fear was real. you pressed your fingers to your temples, trying to steady your breathing, but the questions came faster than you could answer them.

how did i get here? what happened to my clothes? my phone? my life?

and then it hit you like a lightning bolt.

“hyun-ju,” you whispered, the word barely audible.

you swung your legs over the edge of the bed, climbing down the metal stairs with shaky limbs. your heart pounded as you scanned the sea of faces, your voice rising in desperation.

“hyun-ju?”

your voice echoed faintly in the cavernous space, but no one responded. your chest tightened, the panic threatening to consume you.

“hyun-ju!” you called again, louder this time.

and then, like a lifeline, you heard her voice.

“here!”

you turned sharply, your eyes locking onto her figure. she was standing a few feet away, her tracksuit identical to yours except for the number 120 printed on it. relief washed over you like a tidal wave, so overwhelming that your knees nearly buckled.

without thinking, you ran to her, throwing yourself into her arms.

hyun-ju caught you effortlessly, her strong arms wrapping around you as you clung to her like she was the only solid thing in this surreal, shifting world. her scent—warm, familiar, floral spicy, and comforting—filled your senses, grounding you in the chaos.

“hyun-ju,” you whispered against her shoulder, your voice trembling. “where are we?”

her arms tightened around you, her chin resting on your head. “i don’t know,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the uncertainty. “but we’re together in this.”

you pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, searching for reassurance. her dark gaze was calm, but you could see the flicker of unease beneath the surface.

“what happened to us?” you asked, your voice breaking. you knew she knew as much as you did, but still, it was impossible not to ask.

“i don’t know,” she repeated, her hand coming up to cup your cheek. her thumb brushed against your skin, a small, grounding gesture that sent a wave of warmth through you.

your gaze darted around the room again, taking in the countless people who looked just as confused as you felt. “they took everything,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “our clothes, our phones… everything.”

hyun-ju nodded, her jaw tightening. “i know. but we’ll figure it out. whatever this is, we’ll figure it out.”

her confidence was like a balm, soothing the edges of your frayed nerves. you leaned into her touch, drawing strength from her presence.

“promise me,” you said, your voice trembling. “promise me we’ll stay together.”

hyun-ju���s eyes softened, and she pressed her forehead to yours. “i promise,” she said, her voice steady and resolute. “we’ll stay together. no matter what.”

in that moment, the fear didn’t disappear, but it dulled, tempered by the warmth of her arms around you. whatever this place was, whatever lay ahead, you knew one thing for certain: you weren’t alone and that was enough to keep you standing. the fear didn’t disappear, but it dulled, tempered by the warmth of hyun-ju’s arms around you. whatever this place was, whatever lay ahead, you knew one thing for certain: you weren’t alone.

you two walked back toward hyun-ju’s bed, trying to process the chaos of the situation. before you could gather your thoughts, the main door of the massive room swung open, and figures in pink suits and black masks walked in, their expressions hidden behind the stark black symbols—circle, triangle, square—displayed on their masks. the atmosphere shifted immediately, a hush falling over the room, curiosity and apprehension thick in the air. a masked figure with a square stepped forward and addressed the crowd, their voice altered by a mechanical filter.

“i would like to extend a hearty welcome to all of you. everyone here will participate in six different games over six days. those who win all six games will receive a handsome cash prize.”

murmurs broke out, people exchanging confused glances, some intrigued, others skeptical. hyun-ju was the first to speak, her voice sharp, clear. “excuse me.” heads turned in her direction. “you said we’d be playing games, but you practically kidnapped me. how can we trust anything you say?”

the square-masked figure remained unmoved. “i apologize. please understand that it was necessary to maintain the game’s security.”

another woman spoke up next, questioning the masks, asking if this was some kind of underground gambling house. the square simply replied, “we must maintain confidentiality.”

you didn’t like this at all. it felt too good to be true—who just hands out money for playing games? what kind of games? the vagueness set you on edge, your mind spinning with possible explanations. you voiced your concerns to hyun-ju in a hushed tone, but she simply squeezed your hand. “let’s listen, aein,” she murmured. you sighed, frustrated, but nodded.

around you, complaints rose. people demanded their belongings back—their phones, their wallets, their dignity. one man, player 333, grumbled about missing the crypto market.

“player 333, lee myunggi.”

a remote clicked, and a massive screen descended from the ceiling. a video flickered to life—a man getting slapped at a subway station.

“age 30, used to run a youtube channel called mg coin. after convincing subscribers to invest in a new crypto coin called dalmatian, causing losses of approximately 15.2 billion won, you shut down and disappeared. you’re wanted for fraud and for violating telecom and financial investment laws. current debt levels: 1.8 billion won.”

you gaped. “god, hyun-ju, 1.8 billion!” you whispered, grabbing her arm. suddenly your debt didn’t feel so grand now.

the videos continued. one after another, humiliating debts laid bare for all to see. then, suddenly— “player 133.”

your breath caught as your own face appeared on the screen. the moment you met the salesman at the bus stop played back for everyone to witness, the slap still stinging even through the recording. your name flashed beneath your image.

“125 million won in debt.”

a lump formed in your throat. before you could fully process it, another familiar face appeared on the screen.

“player 120, cho hyun-ju, 330 million won in debt.”

hyun-ju stiffened beside you. the video showed her outside her job, the sharp crack of the salesman’s slap echoing in the silent room. she shifted uncomfortably. without thinking, you reached for her hand and squeezed.

more videos played, and soon the shouting resumed. voices layered over one another, demands, confusion, panic growing by the second. the square-masked figure spoke again.

“all of you in this room have crippling debts and are now on a cliff edge. when we first came to you, you did not trust us either. but as you know, we played a game and gave you money as promised. and so, you trusted us and volunteered to participate according to your own free will.”

murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd. you still felt uneasy, the uncertainty of what you’d have to do gnawed at your nerves. a sudden mechanical rumble vibrated through the room. the ceiling panels split apart, and a massive transparent piggy bank descended from above, illuminated by an eerie yellow glow.

“what you see now is the piggy bank where your valuable prize money will be stored,” the square continued. “after each of the six games you play, the prize money will accumulate in this piggy bank.”

“how much is the prize money?” someone called out.

“45.6 billion won.”

gasps. disbelief. the air vibrated with excitement, greed, desperation.

the square continued, detailing that players would have a chance to vote after each game—they could choose to continue or leave, taking home whatever money had been accumulated. you perked up at this. if you could, you’d leave now.

“are you saying we’ll still receive the money, even if we leave after the first game?” an older man asked.

“that’s correct.”

a brief surge of hope lifted in your chest. maybe it wasn’t all bad. maybe you could play one round and get out. the moment of reflection was interrupted when an old woman elbowed past you. “good heavens! excuse me, darling!”

she rushed forward and smacked a man in glasses over the head.

“you idiot!” she shouted.

“mom?! what… what are you doing here?”

they bickered, their voices rising over the crowd. you couldn’t help yourself—a laugh bubbled out of you.

“stop it,” hyun-ju murmured, nudging you, though her own lips twitched with amusement.

“sorry, it’s too ridiculous,” you giggled, leaning into her.

she rolled her eyes, but then, unexpectedly, leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips.

the warmth of her lips lingered as you pulled back, your hand instinctively reaching for the locket around her neck, fingers brushing over its surface. “you’re wearing it,” you murmured, tracing the cool metal.

“of course,” she said simply, catching your hand in hers. “it’s you. why wouldn’t i?”

a tight knot formed in your chest. you wanted to leave. now. every part of you screamed that this was too much, too dangerous. but you knew hyun-ju—she was already thinking things through, weighing possibilities, calculating risks. and more than anything, she was thinking about the money.

the square-masked figure interrupted your thoughts. “if you wish to participate in the games, please sign the player consent form. those who do not wish to participate, please speak up now.”

you hesitated. “you’ll really pay us even if we play just one game?”

“yes.”

hyun-ju’s hand tightened around yours.

“then let’s do this,” you whispered.

*

as soon as the masked figures announced that the first game would begin shortly, players were instructed to sign a contract. hyun-ju instinctively placed you in front of her, her presence like a shield at your back. even now, she was always protecting you. you quickly scanned the lines of the contract, but the words barely registered. your heart was pounding. with a deep breath, you signed your name.

a circle-masked guard ushered you through a side door. the moment you stepped through, you hesitated, turning to look for hyun-ju. you weren’t going anywhere without her. minutes felt like hours before she finally emerged from the other side, her eyes frantically searching the room. the instant she spotted you, relief washed over her features. you hurried to her, taking her hand in yours.

“i’m here. i waited for you.”

her grip tightened. “thank you,” she murmured, squeezing back.

you fell into line again, following the flow of people as they moved through a labyrinth of pastel-colored hallways. the bright, childlike hues felt at odds with the suffocating dread curling in your stomach. up and down stairs, through arched doorways, past seemingly endless twists and turns until you reached a large room lined with photo totems.

“smile,” an automated voice instructed as you stepped up to one of the machines and you obeyed, a big smile plastered on your face.

a camera flash blinded you for a second, and you blinked against the sudden burst of light. “after having your picture taken, follow the staff’s instructions and proceed to the game site.”

you moved to the side, waiting for hyun-ju. while you stood there, a conversation nearby caught your attention. the old woman from before, player 149, was watching hyun-ju with narrowed eyes.

“is that a man or a woman?” she muttered, nudging her son, player 007. you felt your stomach drop.

“there are people like that,” her son replied quickly. “they’re men who want to be women.”

your fists clenched. a sharp, biting anger curled in your chest.

“why would they want to be women?” the woman scoffed. “men are men, and women are women.” then, her gaze slid to you, “and that girl—is she with…her? why would a pretty girl like her want to be with… someone like that?”

the words felt like a slap. shame and anger warred inside you, tangled up in a storm of helplessness. you wanted to turn around, to say something, to defend hyun-ju, but the words lodged in your throat. you could only stare, frozen, as her son sighed in exasperation and tugged her away.

“you can’t say things like that, people can love whoever they want nowadays,” he muttered, casting you a quick, apologetic glance before guiding her through the line.

the moment they were gone, your breath left you in a shaky exhale. you hadn’t realized your hands were trembling until you saw them clenched at your sides. of all places, here—where every single person had been stripped of their dignity, humiliated, and reduced to nothing more than their debts—people still found ways to discriminate, to make others feel small.

tears burned at the back of your eyes, and despite your best efforts, a few slipped free before you could blink them away. you wiped them hastily, not wanting hyun-ju to see.

when she finally finished her turn at the photo booth, she approached you with a soft smile, completely unaware of what had just transpired. the moment she was close enough, you threw your arms around her, burying your face in her shoulder, inhaling the familiar warmth of her scent.

she chuckled, hugging you back. “what is it?” she murmured, pulling back to search your face.

you shook your head quickly, pushing down everything you felt, not wanting to ruin the moment. “nothing, i… i just love you so, so much.”

her expression softened instantly. “i love you too.” pressing her forehead against yours, she whispered, “let’s do this, yes?”

you nodded, managing a tight-lipped smile. she turned, leading the way this time, and you clung to the back of her jacket as you climbed yet another flight of stairs.

at last, you stepped through a massive green gate and onto a sandy field. it was enormous, stretching farther than your eyes could follow. tall walls surrounded you, painted to resemble a serene outdoor landscape. but it wasn’t real—none of this was real. at the far end of the field stood a gigantic doll, dressed in yellow, her unblinking eyes staring blankly ahead.

“all players, please wait a moment on the field.” a woman’s voice echoed over the pa system. “let me repeat. all players, please wait a moment on the field.”

more people filed in, filling the space until there was no more room left to move. the tension in the air was palpable. hyun-ju scanned the area, eyes sharp.

“do you see anything different?” you asked quietly.

she shook her head. “not yet.”

the pa system crackled again. “the first game is red light, green light.”

murmurs rippled through the crowd. you turned to hyun-ju, eyebrows furrowing. “red light, green light? the kids’ game?”

she nodded slowly. “it seems so.”

“this is weird, hyun-ju. i don’t like it.” you tugged at her hand, voice lowering to a whisper. “let’s leave after this, yes?”

before she could respond, the voice returned. “cross the finish line without getting caught in five minutes. if you do, you pass.” a giant stopwatch clicked on above the field. 05:00. a man—one of the players who had spoken earlier—suddenly stepped forward, waving his arms. “everyone! everyone, listen up! pay attention!”

somehow, his voice cut through the crowd. heads turned.

“listen carefully! this is not just a game!”

the unease you had felt since waking up in this place sharpened into something more tangible. the man took a deep breath and shouted, “if you lose the game, you die!”

you sucked in a sharp breath, fingers tightening around hyun-ju’s. your pulse pounded in your ears, your body stiffening in fear.

you looked up at hyun-ju, eyes wide, searching for some kind of reassurance, but she was staring ahead, jaw clenched, her own fear barely concealed beneath her steady expression. a cold dread settled over you, the unknown stretched ahead like a dark abyss and you weren’t sure if either of you would make it to the other side.

*

the murmurs of confusion and disbelief around you grew. someone in the crowd let out a nervous laugh, but it was swallowed by the sharp, mechanical voice over the pa system that announced, “let the game begin”. the air seemed to shift, a collective breath held in tense anticipation.

“green light.”

the sound of the doll’s mechanical chime rang through the space, and everyone hesitated for a beat before cautiously stepping forward. some laughed, moving with ease, treating it like an actual game.

“red light.”

a sharp, mechanical whir cut through the air and then bang.

a girl fell forward with a sickening thud, unmoving. you stiffened, your breath catching in your throat. someone let out a nervous chuckle—until the gunfire continued.

one, two, three more bodies hit the ground. screaming erupted, people turned, bolting for the doors.

bang. bang. bang.

the laughter and confusion from before turned into pure terror as the exit became a slaughterhouse. player 456’s voice broke through the chaos, urgent and desperate. “don’t move! stay still! if you run, you’ll die!”

your legs shook beneath you. hyun-ju’s grip on your hand was tight—so tight it hurt—but you barely noticed. she wasn’t moving, you weren’t moving. but your whole body screamed at you to run. 

someone next to you stumbled. bang. blood splattered against your cheek and your stomach lurched, bile rising in your throat.

when it was time to move hyun-ju turned to you, her voice low but firm. “aein, listen to me.” you forced yourself to look at her.

“we have to keep moving,” she said, her voice steadier than you thought possible. “but we have to do it right. step when it says. stop when it says.”

you could barely hear her over the pounding of your own heartbeat, but you nodded. time to stop, another crack of gunfire and another body.

456 was still shouting. “we just have to move and stop at the right time! we can all make it if we stay calm!”

people started forming lines, a methodical approach to survival. before you could react, hyun-ju grabbed your shoulders and maneuvered you behind her, shielding your smaller frame with her own.

“hold onto me,” she ordered, voice softer this time. you gripped the back of her jacket, holding onto the green fabric so tightly your knuckles turned white. your fingers trembled against the material, your entire body vibrating with fear. but she was tall, broader than you—blocking most of you from view and you pressed yourself against her back, willing yourself to become smaller.

"green light."

she stepped forward, and you followed, mirroring her movements exactly.

"red light."

you froze. the trembling in your legs threatened to give you away, but you clenched your jaw and forced yourself to remain still. it was agony, every second stretched unbearably long. the fear of moving, of making even the slightest twitch, felt suffocating.

"green light."

a step. another.

"red light."

stillness.

hyun-ju’s breaths were deep and controlled. you mimicked her.

"green light."

the finish line was close. so close. you passed. relief, you both made it safely. but then 456 turned, his voice ringing across the field. “there’s still time! we can save him!”

you barely had a second to register what was happening before you felt hyun-ju’s grip on you disappear. you only watched in horror as she sprinted past the other players, past you, towards 456 and the man struggling to crawl forward.

your mind blanked.

no. no, no, no.

“hyun-ju!”

you lunged forward, instinct taking over, but before you could get far, strong arms wrapped around you, yanking you back.

“let me go!” you shrieked, thrashing violently against the hold. “hyun-ju, no! let me go! let me fucking go!”

“stop moving!” the voice belonged to player 390, the man holding you back. he was shockingly strong, his grip ironclad as he forced you still. “you’ll get yourself killed!”

tears burned down your cheeks as you struggled, watching helplessly as hyun-ju and 456 lifted the wounded player between them. the doll’s head was already beginning to turn.

“hyun-ju, please!” you sobbed, your throat raw from screaming.

the last stretch. just a few more steps.

the timer was running out.

“green light.”

one step.

“red light.”

stillness.

seconds stretched into eternity.

then—

“green light.”

they stumbled across the line.

the second the countdown ended, the arms holding you back released you. you hit the ground hard, palms scraping against the rough surface, but you didn’t care. you scrambled forward, throwing yourself at hyun-ju before she even had time to react.

you sobbed against her, gripping her tightly, feeling the frantic rise and fall of her chest as she gasped for breath. “you idiot,” you choked out between sobs, fingers digging into her arms, her back, anywhere you could hold onto her. “you stupid, reckless idiot.”

her arms wrapped around you just as fiercely. “i’m sorry,” she breathed, over and over again. “i’m so sorry.”

and then a gunshot, a wet, sickening sound.

you flinched and then you saw him. the man hyun-ju and 456 had just risked their lives to save; his body lay motionless, a bullet through his skull.

blood splattered across your cheek, your hands, hyun-ju’s face. hyun-ju’s grip on you tightened as she trembled. “no…” it had all been for nothing.

a sob wrenched itself from your throat. you didn’t care who was watching, who was judging. you buried yourself against hyun-ju, fists clutching at her shirt, at her warmth. hyun-ju held you just as tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other locked around your waist. and neither of you moved or let go.

*

eventually, you had to go back.

you didn’t know how much time had passed, how long you had spent on the cold, sandy floor, curled into hyun-ju, sobbing against her as she held you just as desperately. everything outside of her warmth felt distant, blurred—like the muffled sounds of a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from.

but then, a hand landed softly on your shoulder. you flinched.

when you looked up, through the haze of tears, you saw player 456 standing there, expression heavy with exhaustion, grief, and something close to understanding. “you’re the last ones,” he said gently.

your stomach twisted as you glanced around, barely registering the bodies being cleared away in the distance, the blood that still stained the sand. there had been so many people on that field before. now, the space felt horrifyingly empty.

hyun-ju helped you stand, keeping you close as the two of you trudged back toward the sleeping quarters in the back of the line. every step felt weighted, your body sluggish, heavy with something worse than exhaustion. the sound of gunfire still echoed in your ears, like it had embedded itself into your skull. the scent of blood clung to your clothes, your skin—it was in your hair, beneath your fingernails. you wanted to scrub it off, to rip it off.

the moment you stepped inside the sleeping quarters, your legs gave out. you dropped to the floor, sitting close to one of the metal-framed beds, your back slumping against it.

hyun-ju was beside you in an instant, pulling you into her chest.

“i’m sorry,” she murmured, voice hoarse, lips brushing the crown of your head. “i love you.”

that was all she said. that was all she could say. her chin rested atop your head, arms wrapped tightly around you, grounding you in place as your body shook with silent sobs. the tears had slowed, but they kept returning in waves, stopping and starting, stopping and starting.

you couldn’t stop seeing it, that final gunshot, the way his body slumped forward, the blood—warm, wet—splattering onto you.

a presence approached. you barely registered it until a familiar voice cut through the numbness. “you gave me a fight back there,” player 390 said, amusement laced into his voice. “you’re stronger than you look, girl.”

you knew he meant well that he had held you back to save your life and he was trying to comfort you now, but you couldn’t bring yourself to react. you just stared at him with empty eyes, unable to summon even a flicker of response.

his grin faltered slightly, but he didn’t seem offended. instead, he shifted his gaze to hyun-ju, giving her a small nod. you felt her move against you, the gentle dip of her chin as she nodded back. silence stretched between the three of you, then, with one last glance, player 390 clapped a hand to his thigh and walked away, giving you space.

hyun-ju’s grip on you tightened and she pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. you closed your eyes and tried to breathe, but the air still felt thick with the metallic scent of blood, the echoes of gunfire still ringing in your ears.

*

an alarm buzzed, sharp and grating, making you flinch. the door at the front of the room slid open, and the masked figures in pink suits filed in, standing like statues as square stepped forward, his voice eerily neutral.

"congratulations on making it through the first game. here are the results."

a digital trill filled the silence before the screen behind him flickered to life.

“out of 456 players, 121 players have been eliminated. 335 players have completed the first game. congratulations again for making it through.”

the number hit you like a punch to the gut. 121 dead, just like that. simply. completely erased from existence, their bodies likely already being disposed of somewhere while the rest of you stood here, still shaking, still trying to process the horror you had just witnessed.

the silence was suffocating, only broken by a single, trembling voice.

"please…"

the older woman—player 149—fell to her knees, hands clasped together as she pleaded. "please forgive us, let us go. i don’t want to do this anymore! please!"

you wanted to laugh, to scream at her. woman, they just executed more than a hundred people in cold blood. you really think they’re going to listen to you?

then, a new voice cut through the room.

"clause three of the consent form. ‘the games may be terminated upon a majority vote.’ correct?"

you turned toward the speaker—player 456. his voice was steady, but his eyes were desperate. square nodded. "that is correct."

"then let us take a vote right now."

your heart pounded at those words. relief, a way out. square tilted his head slightly, as if amused. "of course. we respect your right to freedom of choice."

you let out a shaky breath, turning to hyun-ju beside you. "finally, we can leave," you whispered. "this nightmare is over."

she nodded, her grip tightening on your hand, and together you stood.

"but first," square’s voice interrupted, "let me announce the prize amount that’s been accumulated."

a low, mechanical rumble came from above. the ceiling panels shifted, and suddenly, the enormous transparent piggy bank descended, hanging ominously over your heads. “the number of players eliminated in the first game is 121. therefore, a total of 12.1 billion won has been accumulated. if you quit the games now, the 335 of you can equally divide the 12.1 billion won and leave with your share.”

murmurs rippled through the crowd. someone spoke up. "how much is that?"

square didn’t miss a beat. "each person’s share would be 35,820,895 million won."

discontent immediately spread through the room.

"fuck. we almost died, and they’re giving us 35 million? that’s fucking bullshit."

"thirty million? you said 45.6 billion!"

you couldn’t believe it. they almost died, and they’re complaining? you wanted to grab them by the shoulders and shake them, just take the fucking money and go.

square remained unbothered. "the rule is that a hundred million won will be accumulated for each eliminated player. if you choose to play the next game and more players get eliminated, the prize amount will increase accordingly."

no. no, no, no, no. no more games. you turned to hyun-ju, your heart hammering. pleading with your eyes. let’s leave, let’s get the fuck out. as if she could fix this, as if she could make it all go away.

but her expression wasn’t what you expected because she didn’t look scared, she didn’t even look phased. she looked… calm.

her grip on your hand had loosened, her gaze distant, lost in thought. it was the look she got when she was calculating, when her mind was whirring with possibilities, weighing outcomes, considering things too carefully.

"hyun-ju," you called her name, voice soft but urgent. she blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, and finally met your eyes. the hold on your hand tightened again.

square continued. "now, let’s begin the vote. if you wish to continue the games, press the o button. if you wish to end them, press the x button. the vote will be held in reverse order of your player numbers. once you finish voting, put the patch you are given on the right side of your chest and stand on the side you have chosen."

you turned back to hyun-ju, gripping her arm. "this is it. this is our chance. we’ll vote x and leave. i’m sure everyone else will do the same, right?"

she smiled at you. a small, unreadable smile. "of course." you wanted to believe her.

the first person to vote was player 456. he pressed x and hope blossomed in your chest, but then the next person pressed o. and then another. and another. your heart sank as the balance tipped, people choosing to stay.

then, your number was called. "player 133."

you turned to hyun-ju, giving her a quick peck before stepping forward. you didn’t hesitate. you pressed the red x with firm finality, placing the patch on your jacket. a few more people voted. then—

"player 120."

you watched as hyun-ju walked toward the stand. you were smiling, already anticipating her pressing x. but her hand hesitated, and then she pressed o, placing the blue patch onto her jacket.

she turned her head, her eyes meeting yours and the smile fell from your face. your body went rigid as ice shot through your veins.

disbelief.

betrayal.

your knees nearly buckled, but a hand caught your arm, keeping you upright. player 007. you barely registered his face as you swallowed thickly, watching as hyun-ju calmly walked to the right side of the room.

your hyun-ju.

the person who had held you through your worst moments. the person who had whispered promises into your skin, swearing you’d always have each other. and she had just chosen to stay.

your vision blurred, hot tears spilling over your cheeks. you didn’t even try to stop them—hyun-ju had made her choice. and now, you didn’t know what that meant for the both of you.

*

the moment the final vote was cast, the room fell into a suffocating silence. the glowing red and blue lights illuminated the numbers above, sealing your fate. o had won—by one vote.

a wave of nausea rolled through you. one vote. one person had tipped the scales in favor of staying in this nightmare. it could’ve been anyone, but the only one that mattered was hyun-ju.

your legs felt unsteady as you turned away from the screen, barely registering the murmurs rippling through the crowd. without a word, you started walking back toward your bunk, climbing the stairs with heavy, mechanical movements. you didn’t want to think, didn’t want to feel, didn’t want to look at her.

but hyun-ju caught up to you quickly. she called your name softly, reaching for you. "please, just—"

"not now," you snapped, your voice shaking with restraint. "i need to be alone."

she hesitated before asking, "can i at least sit with you?"

you scoffed, finally turning to face her. the hurt in her eyes almost made you falter, but your anger and fear kept you steady. "do whatever you want, hyun-ju. it’s clear you’re doing that already."

her head dropped slightly, and she followed behind you like a lost puppy as you climbed into your bed. you curled up, hugging your knees to your chest, trying to breathe through the storm in your chest. hyun-ju sat at the edge of the mattress, her hands wringing together, a nervous tic you knew all too well.

"talk to me," she murmured. she was nervous. 

good. she should be.

you turned your head, glaring at her. "talk to you? what is there to talk about, hyun-ju? we almost died. we will die if we stay. and you—" you let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. "you voted to stay."

“i know you’re mad—”

“mad?” you let out a hollow laugh, finally looking at her. “mad doesn’t even cover it, hyun-ju. i’m furious. i’m terrified. i’m—” you cut yourself off, squeezing your eyes shut for a second before opening them again. “how could you do this? how could you vote to stay? we almost died today—more than once! i thought we were leaving. i thought we agreed.”

she nodded, exhaling through her nose. “i know. i know it’s fucked up. but listen to me—”

“listen to you?” you laughed again, harsher this time. “hyun-ju, we were this close—” you held your fingers barely apart. “to getting out of here! to walking away with our lives! and you—” you inhaled sharply, gripping your knees tighter. “you threw that away.”

she inhaled deeply, steadying herself. “i didn’t vote to stay because i want to die. i voted to stay because this might be our only chance to finally be free.”

your brows furrowed. “what are you even saying?”

she ran a hand through her hair, exhaling in frustration. “the money. the debts. everything hanging over our heads.” her voice was lower now, strained. “i hate it. i hate watching you stress over every bill. i hate counting every won, living paycheck to paycheck, wondering if we’ll ever catch a break. this… this is a way out.”

you shook your head, incredulous. “at what cost? hyun-ju, people died. hundreds of people.”

she flinched. “i know.”

you swallowed, trying to steady your own breath. “this isn’t the answer.”

hyun-ju met your gaze then, her expression unreadable. “if we do the math,” she said slowly, carefully, “we’d only need to play one more game.”

your stomach twisted. “no,” you said immediately. she reached for your hand, but you pulled back.

“hyun-ju, no,” you repeated, voice firmer now. “this isn’t some calculated risk. this is life or death. and you—you’re talking like it’s just a numbers game.”

“i know it’s not.” her voice wavered. “i know, okay? but this money could change everything for us. just one more game. one.”

"oh, you’re sure it’ll be just one?" you scoffed. "hyun-ju, we don’t know what’s coming next! we barely made it past this one! you almost died going back for that guy! what if next time you don’t make it?"

she opened her mouth, then closed it. her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. "i know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "i know it’s dangerous. and i hate that i put you through this. but if we make it through one more, we can leave with enough to never have to worry again. no loan sharks. no scraping by. just us, safe, with a future."

you let out a shaky breath, rubbing your temples. "i can’t do this, hyun-ju. i can’t sit here and pretend i’m okay with this."

she reached for your hand, hesitated, then pulled back. "i don’t expect you to be."

the pa system crackled. "lights will be turned off in five minutes."

hyun-ju exhaled and stood up, preparing to descend the stairs. but something in you lurched at the sight of her leaving. without thinking, you grabbed her jacket sleeve, your fingers trembling.

"don’t you think that just because i’m mad at you, you’re allowed to sleep away from me."

hyun-ju turned to you, surprised, then her expression softened. "i’ll grab my pillow."

the moment the lights went out, the two of you had settled into the small bunk. it was tight, even more so now that you weren’t curled up in opposite directions. hyun-ju faced you under the cover, her breath warm against your face.

for a while, neither of you spoke. the room buzzed with the soft murmurs of others, the occasional sniffle or stifled sob from a distant bunk. your hand twitched against the mattress, and then hyun-ju’s fingers brushed against yours. she whispered your name, almost tentatively.

you swallowed, feeling the anger still simmering inside you, but it was no match for the sheer exhaustion weighing down your body. "i don’t forgive you," you murmured.

"i know."

"but i love you."

a shaky breath. "i love you too."

she pressed her forehead to yours, her hand resting gently over your waist. "we’ll figure it out."

you sighed, letting your body melt into hers despite everything. "we have to."

in the darkness, with only the sound of her breathing keeping you grounded, you pressed a slow, tired kiss to her lips. it tasted like salt and regret, like a silent promise neither of you could yet fulfill.

but for now, it was enough.

[writeblood]

Shadow consumes the Sun

Character Introduction for Anesidora Fig from my fic Shadow consumes the Sun on Ao3. (Link here.)

I'll also post the first chapter here. Let me know if you prefer to read on Tumblr over Ao3. The first few chapters are 6-7k words.

You are a Witch

She learnt that Miriam Fig was a tall witch whose wrinkles creased her face like that of a beloved archeology tome.

In a tent with an interior much too large for what its exterior indicated, a flower-print teapot poured its Earl Grey contents into two cups before setting itself on the stove. The two ceramic children floated genially down to a small green dining room table overburdened with books and maps and research notes. Although patient, the older woman’s expression was crumpled with both concern and curiosity as she waited for the girl to finish dressing in transfigured clothing from behind a privacy screen.

The girl, as of yet unnamed and unknown to this new, familiar world, was torn between watching painted Devil’s Snare move across the boards that obscured her and dressing quickly in the three different types of softly shining gowns provided to hide her sun-bathed skin. She stepped out in hand-stitched shoes, sand still sticking to her feet.

“There. That’s a better look about you, dear,” the witch said, accent thick enough to give its listener an impression of a little green island just to the west of home. She motioned to the chair that sat across from her own. “Just take a seat, lovely, and we’ll get this all sorted out.”

There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell we’re making any sense of this mess, the girl thought.

“I’m Miriam,” Miriam introduced herself once again.

You are a side character’s dead wife. You are a collection of words in a story locked behind a glass screen.

After a moment of silence, she followed up with a question. “Do you remember your name? I know you can talk,” a dry smile touched her lips, “or scream, at least.”

The girl huffed out a laugh. “I think anyone would scream if they woke up to eight-legged crabs crawling all over them.”

“Chizpurfles,” Miriam explained. “They’re attracted to magic, but harmless to anything larger than a Red Cap. I was actually searching for them a few days ago since their fangs are used in anti-curse potions.”

“I can shake out my hair and see if a few pop out for you.”

A smile shared, ice broken, the girl responded, “I remember my name, yes.” Yet she said nothing further.

“Is it a secret?”

No, worse. It’s fucking ‘Anne’. That coincidence had ruined her first playthrough and ten hours of her life. She was not going to make the same mistake again.

“Anesidora.”

 Upon blurting out the name of her second save file, she cringed. It was all well and good to read the super special and unique name of one’s character in text (especially when one mentally shortened it to ‘An[n]e’ anyways), but saying it outloud killed any dignity that had been brought back with wearing clothing.

Why didn’t you say something normal and non-magical like ‘Ava’? If you had been born an Ava, this probably wouldn’t have happened in the first place.

Miriam, living in a society of ‘Nymphadora Tonks’s and ‘Licorus Black’s, did not blink twice. “I’m glad to meet you, Anesidora, even if the circumstances could be better. What were you doing up on the beach like that?”

‘Like that’ referred to the rather barren state of dress she had woken up to.

“I guess having a surprising start to my fifteenth birthday.”

Miriam’s brown eyes widened. “You’re barely fifteen? Dear Morgana.” The air around her seemed to colour dark and twist in sympathy of perceived horror of the circumstance.

Jokes on you, because this fifteen year old is destined to save the wizarding world from goblin liberation. Unless she wasn’t the main character in this hallucination, which would be horribly awkward.

“Nothing bad happened to me.” Anesidora (Anne) shook her head vehemently, dirty hair catching the corner of her eye. “I went to bed as normal and safe as can be, then I woke up in an unknown place.”

There was a hum of consideration. Stopping a small glittery spoon from heaping sugar into her cup, Miriam took a sip of tea, gaze still tracked on the person before her.

“You’re a tad too old for accidental magic. I hope you didn’t try Apparition. There’s a lot more that can go wrong than missing clothes.” She gasped. “Oh! Your wand- I didn’t see one where you landed, dear.”

“I never had a wand.”

Miriam froze, lilac cup inches away from its plate. “You are a witch, yes?”

A self-deprecating laugh escaped from Anesidora. “I don’t think I would be in this situation if I weren’t one.”

“This conundrum is certainly magical.” Miriam relaxed. “And just as mysterious as the matter I’m looking into.”

Anesidora skimmed over the contents of the table. The contents were paradoxically entirely foreign to her and completely expected. A part of her was convinced the writings were all fake and that she had stumbled upon an extremely dedicated roleplay group in the woods. She nudged out parchment with the sketching of a cylindrical container.

“What are you researching?” As if she did not know more about it than Miriam did.

The witch stood up, robe shimmering gold before fading to its usual auburn. She walked to a cabinet, opening it up with a flick of her wand. The same silver container as depicted in the diagram was held in her hands.

“I’m tracking traces of a peculiar type of magic. One that has been drawn out and trapped in containers, ready to be used at will by any witch or wizard no matter their skill level.”

“That sounds useful.”

“And dangerous. Very dangerous.” Miriam set the canister down. “I believe this to be one such receptacle.” Her fingers stroked an embossed runic symbol in the middle, ignoring the wisps of light that moved like clouds circulating around the object of interest. “Right before I heard your scream, I had discovered this in the nearby ruins of a great and terrible power-obsessed wizard.” Gaze flickering over to Anesidora, she spoke with cautious proposal. “While we only have circumstantial evidence, I have a feeling your own peculiar situation could be related.”

“Perhaps that’s true. This seems beyond me,” Anesidora said hesitantly. “Are you going to open it?”

Why was she acting like she was clueless? It was not as if people would burn her as a witch for knowing things beyond her means. Old habits, she supposed. Sometimes, self-preservation relied on hoarding knowledge.

“I wish I could, but no spell in my repertoire is capable of unlocking it.” Miriam sighed. “It makes sense; many would wish for only the most elite and wise witch to have true access to such magic.”

Anesidora reached across and touched the tip with her pointer finger. For three seconds, nothing happened at all.

Noo, don’t embarrass me like this. Please work.

After a brief internal crisis, light congealed and seeped into the container, unlocking its mechanisms to reveal a key.

“Well,” Miriam breathed out, “I suppose I was testing the Moirae with that line.” She cast a questioning look when Anesidora stopped her from taking the key.

“It could be dangerous, right? Or cursed.” Or a portkey. Anesidora stood close, clutching the woman’s robe and hoped that was all the social etiquette she needed to breach in order to be transported along.

“Malitiam revelio.”

The space around Miriam flourished with light which seeped into her wand. There was a perceivable shift inside the tent, like a gust of wind. Seeing nothing was amiss, Miriam picked up the key and-

-nothing happened. Huh? Just a regular key with swirls of gold. Anesidora loosened her hold.

“This looks like a key to Gringotts,” Miriam said. “I must thank you for assisting me, but forgive me for having more questions than answers.” Her eyes had the glint of a scholar witnessing publishing-worthy material.

Did I just do magic for the first time? Moi? Anesidora let free a self-satisfied smile. “I wasn’t sure if I could help. Honestly the container doesn’t seem that special when everything else is just as sparkly.” Perhaps it was just a fake and the real portkey was hidden elsewhere in the ruins.

“Sparkly?” Miriam asked.

“Yes.” She gestured her hand vaguely around the area. “Like when the teacups move.”

Miriam peered closely at Anesidora’s teacup, whose spoon had valiantly kept circulating the liquid despite its guest’s severe lack of interest in tea.

“I don’t see any sparkles.”

“What about the brightness in our clothes? Or the flashes in the self-playing chess set?”

Miriam shook her head.

“Not even the chizpurfles?” Those crustaceans had practically glowed like fat little lightening bugs.

“Besides being green from a thorough feeding, I didn’t see anything out of sorts.”

Anesidora bit her lip. What were the chances she was seeing all this due to glitter being stuck in her eye.

“I don’t understand.” And this time she meant it. “The moving dishes are just normal magic, not whatever you’re searching for.”

“Perhaps I misspoke when I was explaining my quest,” Miriam said slowly. “It is true that I’m looking for a certain type of magic, but that’s just all it is: magic which witches and wizards have typified. Its origin is the same power which drives a simple levitation charm or what makes a thestral unable to be seen.”

It didn’t sound like that in the game but I can’t dispute her logic.

“Well- it’s not so strange is it? To see what I do?” Anesidora had a terrible feeling it was. 

On one hand, she hated the feeling she was doing the magical equivalent of complaining about having too much money. On the other hand, it was terribly alienating to be talking about the bright sparks of magic an enchantment gave off only to be met with a bewildering look. At Miriam’s prompting, she described all that she saw, feeling much like a patient undergoing psychological review for psychosis under the probing academic eyes of an adult. 

The woman picked up the empty key container. “I can sense a great deal of complex magic tied to this device. The visual cues which you report allude me, however. It’s no coincidence we met at this time.”

“Yes,” Anesidora smiled wanly. “It’s like you summoned me out of thin air.”

Miriam peered at her again. “You are a witch, aren’t you? Or maybe an aos sí come to play a trick on me for unwittingly invading her land?” Her tone carried a hint of mirth.

“Perhaps I’m a muggle who’s been thoroughly turned around.”

An uproarious laugh followed. “If you are a little witchling, I shudder to think I’ve kidnapped some poor potioneer’s daughter. What are your parent’s names? I’ll send an owl post haste to tell them their child is fine.”

Fuck. What’s my backstory? “I don’t have parents,” she replied breezily. At least not for 200 years. “I travel the land far and wide to come across clever witches in need of a helping hand.” Lighthearted geniality carried in her voice, letting an ambiguous truth form over her words.

“Don’t tell me you were born from oak tree seeds and sea-foam.” The smile was still on Miriam’s face, but there was a soft sympathy to her cadence.

“And if I were?” Anesidora said quietly. She knew the plot that was supposed to be carried out through her and did not mind taking up the mantle. Annesidora really did not want to go ‘home’.

“Then I’ll be grateful you consider me clever enough to make use of your help.”

An understanding passed between them and Miriam accepted her new ally quicker than Anesidora expected. Surely any muggle woman would have gone to the authorities after finding a girl in such a strange, compromising situation. Anesidora reminded herself this was a world in which seventeen year olds could defeat magic-Hitler. It was also the 1800s, where children worked in coal mines, or whatever the magical equivalent of that was.

They examined the key some more, which genuinely was a simple key to Gringotts. The gold magic on it was part of the unlocking mechanism to their vaults. Importantly, just like with the key, the cylindrical container was made out of goblin silver, a material able to resist brute force magical attacks while also preserving any magic enchanted within.

“Is that rare?” Anesidora asked.

“It’s notable,” Miriam said. “Traditionally, goblins will only share their metalwork with others if they have a close personal relationship. Creating objects specifically for wizarding means is a great honour. Banking is an exception to that.” She pressed her thumbs to the hatches, closing the device only for it to swing back open. “The magical repositories are made out of goblin silver as well.”

“Have you found any?”

She shouldn’t have. Ranrok found them first.

“Sadly not.” She eyed Anesidora. “Not yet. Greater researchers than me have found them in other places, often to detrimental results. You might be too young to have remembered it, but have you heard about the volcanic eruption of Mount Tambora?”

“The one whose ash covered the sun for an entire year?” Anesidora’s mouth fell open in shock. I knew she had her travels, but how many repositories did Isidora make before returning to Hogwarts?

Miriam nodded grimly. “Depending on the amount, the magic we’re searching for could bring the entire world to its knees.”

Contemplation drew them into silence. The ‘Year without a Summer’ caused extreme ecological disaster along with the death of thousands. If someone used the gigantic repository underneath Hogwarts, not only the small group of wizarding kind would suffer. Doubt greater than her usual anxieties pierced Anesidora’s chest. My character died the first time I fought Ranrok in dragon form. I doubt I’m going to get a redo like that and then what? Will the entire world perish because of my ineptitude?

The spark of an idea lit in her mind. Does it have to come to a great showdown in the caverns of Hogwarts at all? Miriam Fig, unshown and dead before the start of the game, stood breathing before her, blood flowing warm in veins. She could save people, save everyone perhaps. That was the purpose for Anesidora’s existence.

—-------------

They would not leave for Gringotts. They would not enter Diagon Alley nor wizarding society for at least one month.

At Anesidora’s alarm, Miriam had simply smiled and told her not to rush, that there were many things to do in the meantime. Instead of life passing by in plot-important cutscenes and tutorial missions, life was composed of seconds strung along in the sparkles of spells and slowly moving suns.

The Department of Mysteries had tasked Miriam Fig to investigate three sites she covered in her research that pointed towards traces of raw magical artefacts, which was what the repositories were classified under. Off the west coast where the duo were situated was the second site. In four days they would head to Orkney.

“You’re going to hand over the repository to the Ministry?” Anesidora asked. It sounded only marginally better than giving it to Rookwood. “What are they planning to use it for?”

“It doesn’t need to be for a specific use. It’s better to place powerful objects in the hands of the authorities than those of bad actors. I’m sure the Department has worse artefacts than the one we’ll come across.” Miriam’s voice drew soft in hesitancy and then she admitted, “There was a lot more funding for my expedition than expected. I suspect the war has given people fearsome ideas.”

“We’re in a war?”

“Not us, dearie,” she quickly said. “On the continent there’s been trouble with goblins. The isles have been unaffected for the most part, but rogue factions leaking over get people nervous.”

Anesidora prodded for more details to no avail; she was deemed too young to get invested in matters of goblin rebellions. She would have laughed at the excuse if it did not make her so angry. As a girl in the modern age, news of war in countries she never heard of had been at her fingertips in the form of a smartphone. Now she was in a desert of knowledge, parched for information on a topic Miriam dismissed. Mentioning Ranrok would bring more questions than answers. 

What if I became a seer? Just declared myself one like that? Except all she knew of divination in the Harry Potter universe was composed of tea leaves and job interview prophecies. Miriam was too smart not to see through the bullshit. So Anesidora kept her mouth shut for two days by way of always opening it to ask questions.

How did this work? What spell was that? Who made wizarding currency denominations an absolute bastardisation of common sense? Miriam answered them all to the best of her abilities, lamenting the absence of her husband, who was an expert at steering the curiosities of young minds. 

Formal magical training was delayed due to lack of a spare wand. Anesidora had to make do with repeatedly opening and closing the cylinder device shown on the first day, empty of the key Miriam kept on her person. Not everything magical had a visual indication and not every sight came immediately. Through concentration, Anesidora could pick up on Miriam’s magical aura, more of a feeling than a picture: warmth and light and safety- the secret closeness of torchlight in ancient ruins at night. 

On the final day of exploring Franciscus the Furious’s castle, goblins came upon them.

The pleasant greeting from Miriam was ignored in favour of drawing their weapons. Understanding dropped the smile from her face. She turned to Anesidora.

“Run back to the tent and wait there for me.”

Anesidora shook her head as she felt the gloopy effects of a disillusionment charm cast on her.

“I need-” to help you!

Her words were cut off when the woman pushed her off the ledge they stood on, sending her on a fall of two metres and a roll down the short hill the ruins had been embedded in. Anesidora scrambled back up and ignored the ache on her backside to run to the castle. Continuing on this path would let her surprise the attackers.

She can’t die now! She hasn’t even met Lodgok, has she? But things are different. There wasn’t a portkey to Gringotts.

Panic and a multitude of ‘why’s consumed her thoughts as she crossed under a fallen archway-

stepping her leather shoes into a mess of red and pink gore. Anesidora slid, landing thankfully on drier, rocky ground. Distant shouts of brachiabindo and depulso indicated the contents did not belong to Miriam, especially when she was looking at the blank face of their owner two feet away.

With an exhaled ‘oh’, Anesidora faced mortality for the first time. It’s a person, not a goblin, she thought. Well, it was a goblin on a technical level. Not a monster, not a beast. A pile of flesh that used to be just as sentient as her. Unbidden, an image of her own body strewn out on the floor came to her. It was not the body she was currently in, which had some modifications in more than eyesight, but her, of an Anne who wasn’t Sallow. 

I might die here. Really die.

And that terrified her. The body before her had briefly sundered her from her original goals. Anesidora watched blood congeal in real time until she caught the edge of Miriam’s magic. It burned like the fire of war and in the silence she could imagine it crackling. She ran towards the woman, calling her name.

Miriam sharply looked around, letting hostility bleed from her when she dismissed the charm on Anesidora.

“Dear, I thought I told you to run away.”

“I wanted to help.” Anesidora swallowed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t.”

“You couldn’t, you silly thing. You don’t even have a wand.” Miriam clasped her on the shoulder. She followed her gaze at the surrounding dead bodies. “Is this your first time seeing death?”

“Um, in real life, yes I guess.”

“Oh my. Blessed Morgana.” Miriam hugged her tight.

They searched the goblins for clues. Besides money and a letter written in Gobbledegook, there was nothing else to take.

The walk back to the tent was brisk. Under the disillusionment charm they prepared for an ambush. When that didn’t come, they packed quickly. Miriam took Anesidora’s arm tight and Apparated them.

—-------------

“If they knew we were at the castle then they’ll know we’re at Orkney,” Anesidora said after she got her bearings.

“We’re not at Orkney, we’re near Abergwesyn, a muggle village,” came Miriam’s clipped reply.

Anesidora struggled to keep up to the hurried strides of the taller witch. “Why?”

“The portkey won’t activate until tomorrow. For now, blending in with the muggles will lose anyone tailing us. The goblins have their own version of the Statute of Secrecy.”

“But we’re still going even when we know there will be another attack?”

“I shall be going to Orkney; you will stay put in Abergwesyn.”

“What!” Anesidora stopped suddenly. “Miriam, no. I can see magic. I was able to open the device. You need me there.” You’re going to die there. I know it.

“You don’t have a wand and you disobeyed my direct orders to keep yourself safe, young lady.”

“One doesn’t need a wand to perform magic and nothing ended up hurting me. Miriam.” She stopped, the forename sounding too personal for the case she was pleading. “Mrs. Fig-” A hearty laugh erupted from the woman. “It’s dangerous to go alone. If you get hurt or something” like dying “then I’ll be stranded with no way to help you. Even if I can’t fight with you, I can still assist you in any other way.”

Miriam’s mouth twisted. “I’ll consider it. For now, we need to get a place to stay.”

Abergwesyn was a quaint little village whose architecture was likely the same as it would be in 2020. Clothes transfigured into poofy-sleeved dresses, they walked to what approximation for an inn the place had. Anesidora looked openly at the old clothing and carriages that they came across. Some muggles looked curiously back as well. Miriam had forgotten to give her a hat to wear.

“How much do you know of muggle culture?” Miriam muttered.

“I’d know more than a pureblood, although I didn’t grow up like this.” Anesidora may have been a muggle herself pretending to be a witch but she knew enough of history to guess she would not enjoy Victorian era social conventions.

“My father was a muggleborn. Every summer after Hogwarts we would visit a different muggle city, just to learn what it was like to live as them.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Aye,” Miriam confirmed. “I’ve had good memories in non-magical areas. I nearly married a muggle myself, but simple flowers are no competition for romantic broom rides across the Alps.”

When they got to their room, Miriam sent an owl to one of her contacts at the Ministry to investigate any leaks on her research. The next day with some lingering reluctance on Miriam’s end, they both held onto the portkey to send them to Orkney.

—-------------

Orkney was stone and rain. Miriam promptly set about teaching Anesidora the shield charm, substituting a wand for eternally damp twigs and then using a finger when she managed to set them all on fire. Anesidora, who always pronounced protego as proh-TEH-goh in her head, had more success by copying the way Miriam’s magic rose and burst forth into a yellow dust shield than by any wand movement or words. Miriam pelted her with stones until she got the timing right and healed up the cuts with an episkey that she was not allowed to learn due to the nature of casting a spell on oneself.

The second spell was a complex alternative to the lumos solem charm as there was no wand to centre the magic on. This time it was Miriam suffering the pain of hearing Anesidora constantly mispronounce teine sith to conjure a little fairy light that had the tendency to blind anyone within a five metre radius.

It was upon practising a levitation charm that a third entered the night-dark camp. Firelight glinted off the eyes of a person no taller than three feet.

A week ago, Anesidora was staring into a similarly black gaze. A silver-quick thought: It’s the goblins again. I have to warn Miriam. But just like before, she sat and stared. Behind her was the fwoop of a thick tent cloth opening. 

“Hello there. Why don’t you stand closer to the light?” Miriam asked, warmth in her tone. “Despite the season, it can be chilly at night. Don’t get a cold just because we’re a bit scary looking.”

The two dark eyes, locked on the taller of the two humans, did not move one step closer nor one step back. Anesidora shifted in her seat to break the tension.

“Umm, we have tea if you’re into that sort of thing.”

Miriam tsked. “You’re the only one in the world who isn’t into tea, dearie.”

Boots slowly crunched on the ground until the goblin came into full view of the camp. He waited, tense, for the revulsion and condemnation and hatred. Instead Miriam smiled, said she would fetch the tea, and turned her vulnerable back to Lodgok in order to enter the tent.

She doesn’t know what I know. The last goblin she interacted with, she killed. Miriam had smiled and waved to them first while they clearly had battleaxes strapped to themselves.

Lodgok was staring at the closed entrance, awed and appalled at the witch’s brazenness.

“Hello, my name is Anesidora. What’s yours?” At the replying silence, she continued. “Is it a secret?”

“...Lodgok.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Lodgok.” 

And now he was staring at her like she had two heads. Anesidora felt the protection wards strengthen. Keep him talking. Err, listening.

“Did you know,” she started, “that two weeks ago I met my very first witch? Then one week ago, I had my first encounter with muggles. Now, I’m meeting a goblin for the first time.” Might as well address the elephant in the room. “So I have a question for you.” Anesidora leaned closer and by an inch, Lodgok moved closer as well. “Next week, do you think I’ll meet a vampire or a werewolf?”

More silence.

“I hope it’s a vampire.” Her guilty pleasure had been reading Twilight.

Lodgok gaped. “You would willingly be near a vampire?”

“Why not? She would have to be a friendly vampire, of course. I don’t think that’s too impossible. I’ve heard of friendly werewolves and there’s friendly muggles too. We have friendly goblins,” her smile surely held a bit of a challenge to the words, “and friendly witches as well.” Anesidora picked up parchment she had been trying to keep afloat and fed it into the campfire. “So why not?”

Miriam came back with two cups of chamomile and a wooden block. She transfigured the block into an appropriately sized chair for Lodgok, placed next to her own and farthest from where Anesidora sat.

“There we go.” She bent her knees to place the tea in the goblin’s hands who could do nothing but politely accept.

“Miriam, this is Lodgok.” Anesidora introduced the two. 

What proceeded was the most nerve-wracking round of small-talk she ever experienced. In the game, Miriam had successfully turned Lodgok, but there were now a million variables to change that outcome, including her own presence. Anesidora knew very well she wasn’t a charming person and if her Plan A went through, she was going to be downright repulsive to him after dealing with Ranrok.

Lodgok sipped his drink slowly and hesitantly responded to Miriam’s surface level comments about the weather and anything else not directly asking why he was there in the first place. He declined the offer for a second cup and awkwardly left the camp, not responding to Miriam’s offer to visit the camp again later.

Afterwards, they put out the fire and retreated inside the tent. 

Miriam immediately sighed. “On the sídhe I’ll be forever thankful seanmháthair taught me to smile in the face of fear.”

“You were scared?” Anesidora tried to keep her voice level despite feeling the silencing ward already in place. “You acted like this was a picnic outing. Lodgok thought you were insane.”

“Better insane than an enemy.” Miriam smiled. “You did wonderful, dear. Sometimes, a witch doesn’t need a wand at all to fight.”

“Why do you think he was here?”

She became solemn. “This meeting was no coincidence. Whoever sent him wouldn’t have thought to use him as a spy. He didn’t have any weapons either. In all honesty, Lodgok was clearly uncertain about what he wanted to do.” Miriam went to the kitchenette and poured herself another cup. “We’ll play it by ear for now. Anesidora, I fear this matter with the magical repositories is far more complex than we ever thought.”

—-------------

Lodgok came back the next night, his form entirely revealed during Anesidora’s overzealous practice of her light summoning charm.

“Uuagh,” he cried, stumbling to the ground with his long-fingered hands pressed to his face.

After an emergency healing spell and profuse apologies, Miriam left to brew a fresh  Wiggenweld Potion ‘just to be sure’.

“I actually thought I was making good progress  in reducing the spell’s intensity,” Anesidora said, contriteness evident.

“Perhaps to human eyes,” Lodgok replied while he squinted. “Goblin eyesight tolerates light less.”

 “I see. Uh, and I hope you can too.” Bad choice of words. “I have the worst habit of using too much magic.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, why weren’t you using your wand?” He drew out his words, unsure in breaching a line.

“I don’t have a wand. I won’t until we finish researching this place here.”

Lodgok peered at her. “I would have thought you were far old enough to be given one.”

Far? ���How old do you think I am?”

“Twenty?”

Anesidora’s loud echo of the reply made them both jump. She pouted.

“A month ago, I was fourteen. Now I look twenty?” It’s totally the hair colour, isn’t it?

“I had no intent to offend. To me, a twenty-year-old is still young.”

“How old are you?”

“Seventy.” At her reaction, he added, “This is young for goblins too, but I’m a full adult.”

“So what is fifteen to goblins?”

Lodgok chuckled. “Little more than a baby.”

And with each small conversation over the days, Ranrok approached.

—-------------

There was a myth underneath Orkney.

Waves rushed against rock in a cave which might have been a hydra nest a hundred years before but now only contained a cancer of chizpurfles, hundreds of them scurrying out of the way when Miriam and Anesidora first entered. Magic sleepily re-awakened to press a riddle into the walls. Upon Anesidora’s transcription of the words, Miriam translated the Ancient Greek:

Somewhere up there midnight strikes, I think I hear the fall / Of little drops of water, magnified against the barren wall

Shockingly, the answer involved being in the cave at midnight. Fresh water dripped down to open up a passage. There greeted, before the first split in the tunnel, a mural that Miriam could see depicting a princess bequeathing a sword. A gold string that Miriam could not see threaded itself over the sword and deeper into the labyrinth. The end of the string led to a Hogwarts Prefect badge, silver letter over a faded green background.

During a cloudcast afternoon above ground, Anesidora finished examining the hibernating green magic embedded in the badge and placed it in a cylindrical container. It closed without a sound, letting her draw her eyes to notice Lodgok’s open staring.

You definitely know what this is.

“Hey.”

Guilt flashed through his face before he returned the greeting and took his usual seat on the wooden chair.

“You work with metal, don’t you? We think this is goblin silver. Can you tell me anything else about it?”

Two days ago, Miriam taught Anesidora the summoning charm. Lodgok’s hands shook when he reached for it. He traced the centre symbol.

“This is the goblin rune for power.”

Literally the key to power, huh.

“How were you able to open it?”

“I’m not sure. You’re welcome to try. Miriam can’t open it either.”

His claws roved over the device, making sure not to cause scratches. The device remained closed. As if summoned by her name, Miriam exited the tent.

“Oh! You’re here early. Let me put the kettle on.” Her movements froze when she spotted what Lodgok was holding. She locked eyes with Anesidora and went inside.

Lodgok handed the container back.

Two pots of tea and one charcuterie board later, Miriam took a few papers out.

“A while ago, we came across this letter. I wonder if you’re able to translate it for us.”

Anesidora looked into the fire while she waited for Lodgok to read. She didn’t look up when he inhaled sharply, less in surprise than unfortunate acceptance.

“Um, well… They seem to be orders to… deal with a witch in a castle and take her belongings.”

“Does it say in the letter who ordered that?” Miriam asked softly.

Distantly, evening birds called out to prepare for darkness.

“A goblin called Ranrok.”

—-------------

Five days later, destiny came to a dying campfire and stars opening their eyes to the stage before them. Miriam spotted him first.

“Hello there. Are you a friend of Lodgok’s?”

“Not quite,” said a goblin armed in silver gauntlets grasping hazy red magic. “I’m his brother, Ranrok.”

Miriam stopped her advancement to greet the pair of goblins and took a step to her left. She spoke to the person directly behind her back while keeping eyes locked on Ranrok’s night-clothed stature.

“Anesidora, get the emergency portkey.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“No,” Ranrok agreed. “You aren’t.”

Miriam raised her wand-

“Avi-”

-and transformed into a blue speckled jobberknoll after a wave of a goblin hand.

Anesidora dashed inside the brightly lit tent. Flames shot at the canvas, overwhelming power eating at the material’s protection charms. She barreled into a table holding research materials, grabbing the cylindrical device near the edge. At a telling warcry, she popped a shield charm over herself just in time for it to shudder and break along with the aggressive magic that aimed at her head.

“She’s just a child!” Lodgok shouted. “She doesn’t have a wand!”

A bird flew in through a rapidly expanding hole in the tent. Light like ritual fire engulfed it to reveal Miriam, positioned in the middle of Ranrok and Anesidora. Lodgok rushed forward to his brother’s side instead of trailing behind.

“You said you just needed the device! We don’t need to hurt them- they’re good people.”

Ranrok flexed his gauntlets. “The only good human is a dead human.”

“Inflatus! Depulso!” Miriam pushed back Ranrok. “The portkey, Anesidora!”

Lodgok ran to where Anesidora stood against the kitchenette counter. He passed Miriam, her focus not wavering from Ranrok.

On seeing his gaze fall to the container in her hands, Anesidora said, “He’s going to kill Miriam and me no matter what.”

“That’s not right,” said Lodgok helplessly.

Ranrok, deflated, hurled Miriam into the burning section of the tent, canvas moving with the motion to entomb her. His black gaze looked up at Anesidora and he grinned, inhumane.

“You should close your eyes,” she said, low enough for only Lodgok to hear.

Anesidora, arm straight down, flicked her fingers to point towards Ranrok and followed her own advice.

“Teine sith.”

Sun exploded beyond the darkness of her eyelids. Through Ranrok’s screams of anguish, she searched along the counter and threw whatever she could get her hands on in his general direction. The screaming grew louder, closer. A second shout joined the commotion and Anesidora dimmed the spell, blinking open to the scene of two goblins wrestling with each other. The tent covering Miriam moved energetically, too slow in letting her out.

A punch. A crack. Ranrok on top, red magic and red liquid on his goblin silver gloves. Power swirled and lashed out to choke Anesidora. Her left hand clawed at her own throat. Her right hand raised off-centre from her body to, palm with a straight line of red and flat in a ‘stop’ motion, cover her view of Ranrok’s head.

Anesidora rasped out: “Accio knife.”

That kitchen knife which had been on the counter she rushed to- that knife which had been grabbed blade first and thrown above Ranrok’s short frame- that knife which lay on the ground just beyond the fighting brothers- flew point-first to pierce through her hand and cut the remaining pieces of tent behind her (leaving a hole in her hand the same size as the hole in Ranrok’s head).

[soundcrusher]

OUR SONS!

Made it for @soundcrusher 😉

[xxplastic-cubexx]

if i said i picked up this issue for anything but drunk erik i fear i'd be lying

(Wolverine (2020) #3)

[edenfire]

🌸🎀 "isn't this exciting, kageyama-kun?" 🎀🌸

he is looking at teru💘

I can't believe it took me this long to draw these two in their official maid outfits🥺💗💞

i would like to make this into a print, but I don't know if ppl would want it🤔 feel free to let me know your opinions!☺️🌸

[fobnsfwdoodlesbackup]

Heyyy thank you @bshpkntrck for coloring in these commissions!! I love seeing my drawings colored in always!!

[nulltune]

ART CREDIT! 💖 LYNN FOUND DEAD IN MIAMI OMGG my friend (irl 🫣) commissioned hakuno art 4 meee 🥺🥺😭😭😭🥹🫶🫶🙏💘💞💖💗💓💘 gajfhskfbd it's kind of a long story but PLSS SHE'S SO BEAUTIFUL........ i'm so blessed so moved,,, and i wanna share real quick bc úwù🫶 and as u can see, i'm using the chibi as my dash icon now too ! ✨️but also pls do tell me if the quality is fudged up or sth 😳🙏 am not sure if it looks okie !!

[yoshistory]

OKAY .... apparently i had to open their app and go into appliance management to activate my landline number even tho i didnt have an appliance to activate. BUT ...... it is now faxing. i probably will leave it overnight or something because it is taking a very long time (40 minutes insofar) and thinking very hard about it but i did get it to function STOP THE PRESSES .....

AS I WAS TYPING THIS ... NOW I GET TO GO TO BED HAPPY ... GOOOOOOODNIGHT!!!!!!!!!

[sysig]

Huh?? Whuh??? Okay (Patreon)

[gothmisspyggie]

Bad formatting is an accessibility issue. I cannot read badly formatted text without giving myself either a headache or a full-on migraine. I am not joking, and I know I'm not the only person. Learn to format or resign yourself to being the architect of your own prison of unread fic. rant about summaries below. It includes yelling, swearing, and several summary formats for people to use.

IF I SEE ONE MORE "OHHHHH I CAAAAAN'T SUMMARIZE WELL JUST READ IT" I AM GOING TO LOSE MY FUCKING MIND. I do not read those fics specifically be cause I don't know what's fucking in them now do I!?

If you "can't write summaries" do not say so and think people will read your fic out of pity. I specifically do not click on fics that trot that slop out and expect me to eat.

Hell in a Fucking Hand Basket - just include a fucking line or two of dialogue!!!! It doesn't even have to be amazing dialogue!!!!!!

If you don't respect your own writing enough to figure out a way to summarize it and do at least minimal edits, I'm not spending my time on it. Why would I invest more than an eye roll if you're not going to bother to give your readers even three words and an occasional line break of actual consideration? "oooohhhh but its sooo haarrrrrrd"

THE FUCK IT IS. It may be intimidating or overwhelming at most, but if you wrote a fic in the first place, you can write two sentences. FFS, there's infinite possibilities! Pretend your fic is a book you're reading in a coffee shop. Imagine a stranger comes up to you and asks what the book is about. What would you tell them? Use that as the summary. Do you share the fic with friends? Ask them the most memorable part and use a paraphrasing of that. Keep the ending in, don't keep the ending in. You could even just list the main character(s) and what happens/what internal thoughts they have, what conversations happen.... This does not even have to be a complete sentence.

Here, I will even make a format for you cowards!!!

1. Who or what stars in the fic, what pairings are in rom fic

2. Blurb

3. Tags

4. Content warnings The blurb can be: the contrivance you thought was fun to explore, the actual plot with or without the ending, the type of au, an actual paragraph of the fic, or even just the inspiration, and a bajillion other things! EXAMPLE:

Mazeeda, Gabriele, Soo-Jung, Mazeeda/Soo-jung, Background Jamal/Betty

Retired Magical Girl AU. Former rival magical girls stuck at same table at a wedding of a childhood friend. Drunken shenanigans and makeouts ensue.

Tags: dramedy, adults haunted by teen angst, rivals to friends to lovers in 2 hours, bi solidarity

TW discussion of eating disorders

IT'S REALLY NOT THAT FUCKING HARD!!!!

*This poll was submitted to us and we simply posted it so people could vote and discuss their opinions on the matter. If you’d like for us to ask the internet a question for you, feel free to drop the poll of your choice in our inbox and we’ll post them anonymously (for more info, please check our pinned post).

[dommnics]

"Cinderella, you're as lovely as your name"

I guess I'm still in a Cinderella mood. Here's some new, and some old doodles I dusted off and finished.

The 1950 animated film always carries a really warm and lovely sense of comfort whenever I watch it. I'll always defend this characterization and interpretation of Cinderella - she's very underrated and a lot stronger than some give her credit for, due to misremembering the movie or ignoring key details about her.

--

Check out more of my work on other platforms or buy prints!

My Instagram -- My Bluesky -- My Twitter -- Buy Prints

[bi-writes]

Could you do one of Simon forgetting to bring his lunch and so his wife brings it except she turns up in a cute sundress??

mail-order bride (18+)

"simon...simon riley?" you ask.

the officer raises a brow, looking down at your ID and then back at your face. he frowns a little, scratching the back of his neck.

"he's a lieutenant," you add, biting your lip. "uhm...and he works with...with john."

"john?"

you suck in a shaky breath, biting your lip nervously.

"captain john price?"

the officer just glares at you a little before picking up his radio.

"yes, ma'am. wait here."

he turns his back to you, walking a little ways away, and you hear him speak into the radio lowly.

"...got a civilian here asking for lieutenant riley..."

"...negative, sir..."

"...oh. affirmative, sir. right away."

the officer comes back, giving you your ID back. he looks sheepish now all of the sudden, and he smiles at you, which unnerves you almost.

"u-uh, so sorry ma'am. you can park near the main office, right that way," he points to a building far to the left, "i'll have someone come meet you there to take you inside. again, apologies...we're going to put you on a list, mrs. riley."

you frown a little, shrugging. you're not upset. it's a miltiary base, for christ's sake, and you've never been here; of course they would be apprehensive about letting you in. but the private looks terrified out of his mind, so you just smile a little and make your way towards the parking spot he pointed out.

when you get out of the car, you push the door closed with your hip, picking up the bag in the passenger seat. there's a woman standing by the door, smiling and waving at you. she looks very smart, in a nice pantsuit. you smooth your dress down, smiling back at her, and you swing your purse over your shoulder before making your way to her.

"hello, mrs. riley. the lieutenant's wife, i hear?" she asks. you nod and shake her hand.

"y-yes...he...he said he was just doing administrative stuff today, but he forgot some things so...i just wanted to do something nice--"

"right!" she nods her head towards the door. "i can escort you to his office. uhm...i believe he's debriefing with captain price this afternoon, but i'm sure he can make some time." she winks at you when she says that, and you bite back a shy smile.

she takes a seat at her desk, picking up the phone. she yaps for a few minutes, and you take a seat in an empty chair, smoothing your skirt out. your wearing one of simon's favorites, the cherry-printed mini dress he loves so much, but you realize maybe he might not be the only one. there's a myriad of privates and soldiers that walk past you, and you hear some whistles by some of the bolder ones. you suddenly feel very self conscious, tucking your legs underneath yourself. you're wearing white strapped wedges, your hair styled nicely with a bow to match the dress, but now you feel silly, stupid.

why would you go to a military base dressed like a fucking pin-up girl?

"wot are you doin' 'ere?" a rough voice demands.

mmm. that's why.

you look up from your chair, smiling wide when you see him. simon stands with his arms crossed over his tact vest, tilting his head to the side as he glares at you from under his skull mask. you've never seen him strapped before, though. he's got a gun tucked into his thigh holster.

"h-hi," you pick up the basket next to you, standing up, and when you come close, simon is rough, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you near him with a short growl.

"oi," he snaps, but you just flutter your lashes at his harsh voice, smiling bigger. "can't fuckin' come 'ere lookin' so pretty."

you giggle, and even though you're wearing heels, you still find yourself standing on your toes as you try to get close to him.

"you forgot what i packed for you, simon. how could you forget?" you pout a little. he sighs deeply, smoothing his gloved hand down your back before nodding his head.

"c'mon. can't 'ave ya out here. fuckin' muppets starin' at my wife."

he turns and immediately starts walking. he's entirely too fast, and you skip in your wedges practically to try and keep up with him. when he notices, he slows his pace, and you grip the basket better in your hand before reaching for his with the other.

your hands intertwine, and you look around as you walk, reading the plaques on the wall, the shiny medals, waving at johnny when you see him holding a bag of crisps upside over his open mouth.

when simon shuts the door behind you in a dark office, you set the basket down on the desk, pushing back the kitchen towel fabric.

"okay, so i brought those muffins you like from that little shop. they had blueberry this morning, oh my gosh, simon, they also started putting out these little scones that--oh!" you gasp as he grabs you from the fat of your hips, a big flat palm over the base of your spine as he pushes you flat onto your stomach onto the desk. "simon!"

simon sucks on his teeth as he flips up your skirt, letting out a low whistle as he palms your ass, spreading the fat of it so he peek at the seam of the white lace you're wearing. you lay your palms against the desk and whimper, not used to simon being so rough, so upfront, so bold.

"can't just come here all dressed up, baby," simon grunts, shaking his head. "and not expect me to take wot i need...been surrounded by nothing but wankers all fuckin' day..."

you relax a little, giggling.

"simon," you sigh, your eyes closing as you push your hips back into his hands. "i missed you so much..."

"tha' why y'came down 'ere, luvvie?" he asks, smirking under the mask. "ya missed me? missed y'r husband? what'd ya miss, baby? tell me."

you arch your back a little, bowing it, and you laugh when he gives your ass a firm grab before picking you up and spinning you around, caging you against the desk. you smile up at him, dazed, a little dizzy, and he winks at you, eye-black dark and deadly around those killer brown eyes. he's so big, so hot, and you're suddenly very aware of how big simon looks in all his gear.

"i don't know," you say softly. "it's so cold in bed at night..."

simon snorts, "tha' right? 's cold? the lil' shits don't keep ya warm?"

"our girls like to sleep on your pillow, i think they miss you, too."

"fuckin' lil' bastards," simon chuckles, and you sigh, sliding your hands up his vest and tugging him just a little closer. your spread your knees to let him between them, and he reaches down and grips your thighs, hiking them up around his hips as he sits you onto the edge of the desk. "fuck, you're so fucking pretty..."

you tilt your head back for him.

"i miss eating with you. it's so quiet when you're not around."

"mmm. i bet, luv."

"and i miss you when i'm alone," you whisper. "i miss you when it's just me..."

simon narrow his eyes, "tell me, swee'eart."

you reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down towards you. you kiss him over the mask, tasting sand and ash, licking over his lips through the cotton. it's lewd, disgusting, but he groans under the fabric.

"when, simon? when?" you ask, and he hums lowly.

"when? 'ow about right now?"

"no way, you're so gross, simon," you giggle. "our first time is not going to be on a desk in some dingy office where you work--"

you seize when he cups you between the thighs, big gloved hand palming your cunt through your lace panties. you arch your back and gasp, gripping his biceps tight as you lean into his touch.

"don't need t'make it our first time," simon tilts his head to the side. "can still make it real fuckin' nice, baby."

"oh, now you wanna touch me?" you suck in a shaky breath. "just because some of your men wanna look up my skirt?"

"oh, for tha', i'll make ya scream my bloody name, for oll of them ta hear," he growls, and you smile wide up at him.

"guess they need to learn i'm a lieutenant's wife," you giggle, and simon whistles low, tugging your panties to the side, and you whimper when you he prods at your entrance with two big gloved fingers.

"ahhhh..." simon hisses. "ya like tha' title, tha' it, baby? yeah...yeah you like tha'..."

"i like it," you whine, and when he meets your watery eyes, he plunges those big fingers deep, thumbing at your clit. your mouth falls open, your nails digging into his sleeves, and you suddenly wish you had asked him to take you to get your nails done so you could really claw it. "i like it..."

"could make these boys lick the fuckin' ground ya walk on," he mutters, and you whine when a particular rough thrust of his hand squelches between your thighs. "they'd do anythin' to please me, baby...even johnny would chew your bloody food for ya if i asked him to--"

you reach down and grip his wrist, your thighs shaking as you jolt. it feels so good, your entire body is on fire. his fingers are petting a nice little spot inside of you, stroking it as he pumps his hand nice and steady inside of you. his thumb is working you in gooey circles, flicking at your clit and putting taut the little string in your lower belly. your whole brain feels like it's fizzling, your blood rushing, and you stick out your tongue, licking over his masked jaw as you start to feel like you're gonna pass out from the wet slick, slick, slick sounding from your wet cunt.

"simon--simon--" you pant, and he groans, nodding his head.

"so pretty, baby," simon breathes. "so fuckin' tight, gonna 'ave to work ya open before i give ya my cock, lovey..."

"it's so big," you mumble, and simon coos, nodding his head.

"i know, baby, i know, 's big, real big...but you can take it, remember?" he laughs. "you can take it woteva i give you..."

you nod.

"i can take it--i can take it--!"

your vision blurs. there's tears coming down your face, sweat lining your forehead, your back, but you can't wipe the giggly, lazy smile off your face. simon cups the back of your head with his free hand, sitting you up, and when he pulls his fingers out from between your legs, his gloves are stuck to his hand practically, completely soaked through.

"y'r so pretty when y'cum," he murmurs, and you stick out your tongue for him. he gets the message, shoving his mask up just enough, and he bends to kiss you warm and wet.

"well then," you meet his eyes, all languid, all relaxed, a devious little grin on your sweet face. "why don't you give me another then?"

simon grins, all teeth.

"woteva ya want."

[yanderedrabbles]

💕 Yandere Valentine's Day Gifts ♥️

Prompt: You own the local flower shop. It's Valentine's Day. Which customers will be popping in?

Yandere! Sugar Daddy calls you two weeks before Valentine's to order fifteen separate bouquets for his darling. Every exotic and rare shade that roses come in.

"I want them delivered fresh. Early morning please."

"Yes sir, I can manage that," you tell him, still reeling at the ridiculously large amount he just paid you.

On Valentine's Day, his maid let's you and your crew into his penthouse. You can't help but let out a low whistle when you see the size of the place.

He directs you to set the bouquets out around the living room. The morning light from the floor to ceiling windows catches on the glitter you dusted across the arrangements.

He has a sort of nervous energy - arranging and then rearranging the flowers. You sometimes hear a thumping, banging sound from deeper in his penthouse but when you ask him about it he says its just the building creaking. You don't know much about skyscrapers this high and so you let it go.

When it's all finally to his satisfaction, he tips you and your crew very generously. As you leave, you see him setting out a whole slew of iconic Tiffany jewellery boxes.

His darling will be showered with the most expensive love money can buy. Whether they want it or not.

Yandere! Bisexual Best Friend breezes into your shop like a true haute couture diva. He looks over his designer sunglasses and snorts with disdain at the traditional red bouquets.

"Nothing so cliche for my girl," he tells you.

He orders pink and white camellias, with sprigs of baby's breath. He has you wrap the stems in matching pastel paper. When you ask him if he'd like to include a card, he writes his message in a beautiful, looping cursive.

'I know no boyfriend will get you flowers that you actually like. That's why you have me. Happy Valentine's Day gorgeous.'

"Very elegant," you tell him.

"Thanks. I'm meeting her for brunch and drinks after this."

He shows you his other gift for his darling. A bottle of expensive perfume, in a glittery blush pink box.

When you ask him if his friend has any dates planned, he tilts his head and smiles without any warmth at all.

"Not if I can help it."

Yandere! Actor doesn't come into the shop or call you directly. It's his hurried, harried assistant that places the order.

"Five dozen roses in a single bouquet. I'll bring you some chocolate that he wants between the flowers. Oh, and a card. Don't forget the card."

When she drops off the chocolate for you to use in your arrangement, you can't help but want to look up the price. Everything from the packaging to the hefty weight of each chocolate screams luxury artisanal brand.

The final arrangement is beautiful, but in a looking-good-on-camera sort of way. You don't know the order is for him until his assistant accidentally let's it slip who her boss is. Your eyebrows shoot up but you manage not to ask any questions. A billionaire and now a celebrity. Seems like everyone wants to be extra romantic this year.

"What does he want on the card?" you ask, pen poised.

"Oh, he sent one for you to use." She hands you a card printed on thick cream paper, elegant in its minimalism. You glance at the writing before you can stop yourself.

'A star like you deserves all the flowers. Happy Valentine's dollface.'

Cute. The exact sort of thing you'd expect from a heart throb like him.

It's only when you see him and his darling on the red carpet later that night - his arm around their waist the entire night - that you begin to wonder if there's more to their relationship than meets the eye.

Yandere! Werewolf shows up right before you close, hands on his knees while he catches his breath. He ran straight to your shop after football practice and there's still grass stains on his chin.

"Oh god, tell me I'm not too late for roses." He looks so worried that you take pity on him and agree to look in the back for any bouquets that might have slipped under the radar.

He must be supernaturally lucky, because you manage to find a dozen red roses. When you get back to the front, he's taken out the rest of his gifts from his backpack.

There's an overstaffed werewolf plush, an extra large leather dog collar, some pre-packaged bones and a chew toy.

"Interesting selection," you say as you ring up his flowers.

He rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah. They uh... have a dog. It's mostly for the dog."

You get the sense he isn't being entirely honest, but you're not the type to pry. When you're done, he shoots you a gorgeous smile.

"I totally owe you one. You really kept me out of the doghouse."

He's just about to leave when he suddenly remembers something. He digs in the pocket of his letterman jacket and pulls out a clear packet of candy hearts. You look closer and realise he must have picked out individual sweets just for their message. They're repeated again and again.

'Be mine.'

'Yours forever.'

'Kiss me.'

"Do you think these are canine safe?" he asks you. You think about it for a second and then nod.

It's only after he's left that you wonder what sort of dog would want to eat candy like that.

[hansoeii]

I forgot to post this information on here:

I have decided I will not be making new good omens products for conventions. As much as I still love the show and the characters, I just don't feel comfortable selling art at cons of it anymore, same with the sandman. I still have a lot of stock left, so it'll be available until everything's gone.

Instead, I will be focusing more on other fandoms such as Arcane, Loki, Doctor Who, Hannibal, IWTV etc. and my own OCs.

I have made this decision because in the past, a lot of people at conventions have discovered both the sandman and good omens through my work, and I no longer feel comfortable directing people to NG's work for obvious reasons.

I know a lot of people might be disappointed by this decision since good omens was quite a big part of my life and my work. But I will always be a woman first and a fan second.

My prints will stay up on INPRNT for now, since people usually only go there because they already know what they want. This might change in the future, but for now they will stay up.

I genuinely don't know if I'll be creating anything new once the finale comes out. If I do, it will only be posted with a big disclaimer.

Thank you! ❤️

My next convention will be Leipziger Buchmesse/MCC in March Booth C113. If you're there or in the area, I'd be happy to meet you!

[boypied]

SMILE FOR THE CAMERA.

pairings: henry cavill x male reader x chris evans

summary: chris evans destroying his boy-toys asshole and decides to send a video to his buddy henry, making him want to have a turn breaking the boy in.

request by: anonymous

warnings: SMUT, anal sex, recording sex, dirty talk, pet names, restraints, spanking.

Chris threw his head back as you bounced off his cock over and over, he slapped your ass before gripping onto your hips fucking you like a dirty slut "fuck! I needed this." He groans out between the sounds of your skin slapping against each other. Your face was pushed against the bed as your hands gripped onto the sheets tightly, enjoying every moment of his thick cock, he leans to the side and whips out his phone "I gotta have a video of this" he says in a breathy moan as he begins recording the backshots.

The video is shaky but still able to get off too, Chris was deep in the moment he hasn't had sex in a while, and this is just him letting off some steam, one hand on your hip and the other holding up his phone making sure he gets the absolute perfect view. You wiggle your hands slightly as he tied you up earlier on, Both yours and Chris' moans echoes around the room as the wet sound of slapping gets louder and louder.

"I'm gonna-" you both moan out simultaneously as you shoot your loads together, your load spurts out of your cock and coats your bed sheets, whereas Chris' thick creamy ropes of cum fill up and coat your insides "mhm, like a Krispy Kreme" he says causing you both to chuckle. Chris helps untie you and he carries you cradle style to his couch where you both sit and watch one of his movies because you enjoy how embarrassed he gets watching himself.

It's been two days since your rendezvous with Chris and let's just say you haven't felt that satisfied in forever, but what you didn't realise is that Chris sent the video over to his gym buddy Henry Cavill and he's never wanted to have a peice of ass so bad until he watched those backshots, while you're walking down the street you run into Henry. "Oh hey Henry!" You say shocked as you weren't expecting to run into him.

His eyes widen in delight as he comes in contact with you, "long time no see y/n" he says in his normal flirty tone. He steps closer to you closing the large gap between the two, the sextape is the only think running through Henry's head as he comes face to face with you. After you two have been standing and talking in the street for a while Henry invites you back to his place and let's just say things gor pretty hot and heavy.

Henry throws you down onto his bed your body bounces as you hit it, you let out a giggle slightly as Henry flips you over having your ass exposed to him. Henry licks his lips and dives straight in his tongue lapping up your sweet little hole, "mhm!" He mumbles out as his tongue gently slides past the tight muscle ring into your ass. The camera from across the room beeps the red light at you which turns you on more, you love being recorded.

You make eye contact with the camera so whoever Henry shares it with will think you're the sexiest bottom alive, Henry pulls away and watches how your hole glistens with spit he strikes his hand down onto your cheek leaving a bright red hand print and causing you to let out a slutty moan. He smirks slightly and lines his cock up with your hole gently thrusting in not wanting to hurt or cause pain, "D-Daddy!" You blurt out as his cock comes in contact with your sweet spot.

Henry grips your hips and pulls your body completely against his as his cock slides in deeper, his eyes focused on your ass as he begins pumping into you watching how your ass jiggles and the bed shakes and creaks. "F-Faster!" You whimper out, embarrassed at how slutty you sound begging for more cock, "I'll give it to you baby! Make sure to smile for the camera" He says as he begins to pick up the pace and thrusts into you roughly as the bed creaking gets louder and louder.

You throw your head back feeling his cock utterly destroy your hole, "m-more!" You practically scream out as he thrusts into you faster and faster, harder and harder the bed creaking becomes louder and louder until it collapses and breaks causing Henry to fall forward and land on top of you. You both chuckle slightly "don't stop Henry!" You say teasingly as he begins to fuck you faster on the broken bed.

Henry's thrusts become sloppy when he nears his release, you jerk off your cock faster and faster waiting for him to shoot his load inside your ass. "Y/N I'm gonna nut, okay get ready" he leans down to whisper in your ear and with one final thrust he shoots ropes of cum deep inside your boy-pussy as you also shoot out onto your chest.

Henry looks up at the camera, giving it a thumbs up, causing you to laugh, "You're such a dork" you whisper to him playfully causing him to scoop you up off the broken bed and down the hall to his guest room, he picks up his phone and texts Chris "I just fucked Y/N so hard that I broke the bed" he didnt have to wait long until Chris piped up. Chris opens it up and laughs.

"You got the video?" He texts back, waiting a couple minutes and he watches the sextape. It doesn't take long for him to whip out his cock and begin beating off to it, he texts you and says "you're a star" with a winky face causing you to chuckle "thanks daddy" you send back with a heart emoji as you snuggle against Henry's hairy chest.

taglist - @starboye @mailmango @ghostking4m @kingchaospostsstuff @crispysoup318 @inhumanshadows @its-ares @gayaristocrat @cronaaaaaaa @irlsamcarpenter

[jinwoosbabyboo]

"Love and Brat Taming"

How I imagine the LADS Men brat tame and the type of dom that they are. Artwork @/osk_purinnumee on twitter ‼️ MDNI ‼️ This for the freak nasty mfs in my inbox … I love y’all hope you can lucid dream about this 😘

Zayne

Type: Edging | Voyeurism | Restraints | Temperature play??

Sweet stoic Zayne....Mr. "watch your hands" in public but completely different behind closed doors. Now let's say you decided to spend all afternoon being very handsy. He would warn you multiple times and of course you'd keep going even when he glared at you.

I feel like Zayne is definitely the type to .... watch. He would one thow-wow percent sit you on his lap with your hands tied in front of you and make you play with yourself while he watched.

What did he use to tie your hands? The tie that you kept yanking on all day in public to whisper in his ear.

"Since you can't control your hands I'll control them for you" He would watch you play and squirm on his lap and the minute he sees you're on the brink of climax he'd whisper a stern "Stop." snatching your wrists away, holding them above your head in one hand, making you whine. "Deep breaths ... there you go ... now start again"

He would do this again ... and again ... and again until you're spouting apologies and begging him to let you cum. He's not rough as a matter of fact he's so gentle it almost makes this punishment that much hotter, I mean worse.

Don't forget he's touch starved so while you're playing he's busy having his fun exploring your body stimulating every part of you. He'd go back and forth from just watching you to devouring your neck and pinching your nipples using his evol make them pebble faster and then taking them into his warm mouth.

By the time he lets you cum you're a sweaty puddle of pure bliss. He'd definitely talk you through it and end it with "next time heed when you've been warned"

Now next time he tells you to watch your hands you're torn between wanting this punishment again or wanting the sweet Zayne that gives you what you want without making you beg.

Sir?! Wtf you mean heed when I've been warned I'm acting up on your next day off fym

Rafayel

Type: Sense Deprivation | Overstimulation | Manhandling | Breeding Kink

Raf is the type of tamer who makes sure you can't walk and you're sore as hell the next day. He's merciless. He takes you how he wants you.

For example...

"Will you like me no matter what I become?" You promised. Such an innocent question. No.

You should have read the fine print because you had no idea it included the dominant powerhouse he'd become when you decided to ignore him after you went to bed mad at him and proceeded to ignore him for a full day.

"Don't play with me we don't do that we don't go to bed upset with each other because shit like this happens" He doesn't give more than half of a warning. He gives just one and that's it and its hardly a warning.

Raf doesn't get upset with you often but he's a whole different person when he does. He is definitely the type to blindfold you and tells you to be a good girl and no touching. "Keep your hands above your head"

He'd flip you back and forth between being sprawled out on your back and being flat on your stomach with a pillow tucked under your hips and much more. You're getting fucking rag dolled so hold on tight.

To start he would touch you everywhere except where you wanted most however he still would have you dripping wet and I mean dripping. I imagine once he gets you to that point he's the type to eat you out while making you explain why you decided to ignore him when you know he hates it. He'd edge you a little every time your hands strayed too close.

You would have absolutely no good reason for ignoring him for a whole day on purpose so he'd keep going snatching orgasm after orgasm from you until you're pushing his head away. Big mistake because he said no touching and keep your hands above your head. Be ready to get pounded into the mattress until dawn. For sure the type to fill you up over and over again just to watch it drip out so he can push it back in with his fingers.

"Raf I can't- " he'd cut you off "You can take it ... gimme one more I know you can do it" he would make sure you can't walk the next day so you have to spend the entire day with him to make up for lost time.

I need this man to take a sip of wine and let it flow into my mouth through a kiss and bite my lip after.

Xavier

Type: Edging | Bondage | Spanking | Dacryphilia | Sadism

Alright I know you just read sadism and you wanna jump me now let me explain hold on HOLD ON! Relax! Put the bricks and tomatoes down let me explain. I can feel it in my BONE MARROW that Xavier knows how to perfectly mix pleasure and pain. He's literally likes it rough talking about some "You'll have to do it harder" bro imagine him being able to do it harder to his girl? HES ON THAT ! Man I kinda just wanna yap about him.

He would give you a safe word he would immediately stop if you use it don't worry. He's a calm cool collected Prince that fucks you like you're a slut. He doesn't give you a warning because he knows that you know better.

If you decided to test his patience and be a brat ALL DAY he's throwing you over his lap and spanking your ass until it's red while he's two knuckles deep inside of you and that's not even the main course.

He would tie your hands together (Just like he's threatened multiple times). He would definitely tie them to the headboard and he'd eat you until you're crying from pleasure, but no you're not allowed to cum yet. "You're so pretty like this" as he wipes your tears before going back to nip and bite at your thighs.

He would rag doll you as well untying you and flipping you over into doggy style and just teases you by rubbing his tip against your folds and just slightly pushing in before backing out and continuing his teasing giving your ass solid slaps when you push your hips back at him.

He would edge your soul out of you for hours and he's gonna wake you up a few hours later with his tongue after you fall asleep.

I need Xavier to rag doll me expeditiously.

Sylus

Type: Bondage | Spanking | Dacryphilia | Overstimulation | Breath Play

I know y'all have seen that one picture pose called "Dancing with you" and Sylus has his hand around your throat?????? What are we dancing to???? Are we naked????

Anyway....

Now maybe this is self indulgent but he's definitely using his evol to hold you in whatever position he wants you in. Since you couldn't listen to him we won't listen to you. He's two knuckles deep in you and is making you do all the work. He would have you ride his hand and make you work for it while he has the other wrapped around your throat cutting off your air and right when you cum he'd let go making you see stars.

Did he just make you experience euphoria?? You bet your ass he did.

He's not done with you though don't forget you were a brat throwing a fit in the middle of his meeting and couldn't keep your hands to yourself. He would eat you out till you're in tears "Keep your eyes on me" the second your head fell back in bliss he would stop causing you to snap your head up. "I gave you simple instructions sweetie" When you hit that point where you start trying to run from him he would stand up and tell you to "Keep it wet you know what to do" (Shout out Professor Cal) releasing only one of your hands and leaving to go finish his meeting.

YES! He would definitely tell his business call or whatever to give him a minute and he'd handle you then head back. Once he's done he's coming back and teasing you with his tip with his hand around your throat again. He doesn't mind spending the whole night taming you.

Side note: Sylus hates to see you cry .... unless you're crying from pleasure. "Fuck you're beautiful like this" he'd say and he'd kiss your tears as they run down your cheeks. Something about that dazed-euphoric look in your watery eyes and your wet cheeks gets his Ca-Cawk jumpin'!

I need Sylus to wrap those big ol hands around my throat and tell me "Relax you can take it princess"