#that's a man who's lost his humanity alongside his fear of death

[eavangeek]

If you think about it, I bet lich Emmrich can control his hands remotely…. I’m just saying.

Something something "hand of glory"

I also think that EmmLich would drop a finger bone into his partners pocket whenever they left the Necropolis (b/c I like to think that Lichs can't actually leave the Necropolis), just so he knew *exactly* where they are.

He probably did it secretly at first, but if an equally insane partner found out, they would get a special necklace to put the Tracker Bone inside of it

[gyu-tori]

Beneath the Bite | C.BG

Pairing: non-idol!beomgyu x fem!reader Genre: Angst, Romance, Apocalypse

Summary: In a world where the dead don’t stay dead, Beomgyu has mastered the art of survival—alone and emotionally guarded. But that changes when he discovers Y/N, there’s something different about her. She’s resourceful, determined, yet there's one problem that changes everything: she’s been bitten.

Bound by an uneasy alliance, the two navigate not only the dangers of the undead but the fragile trust growing between them. As Y/N tries to hold on to the last bit of humanity she has left, Beomgyu begins to question the walls he’s built around himself.

How far would you go to save someone who might already be lost? And in a world teetering on the edge of ruin, can hope survive alongside love?

Warnings: zombie apocalypse, survival, blood, injuries/wounds, zombies, gore, descriptions of killing, let me know if I missed any!

Word count: 13k

The fluorescent lights of the abandoned hospital flickered, casting eerie shadows across the desolate corridors. Beomgyu moved through the hallways with practiced stealth, his backpack slung over one shoulder and a makeshift weapon gripped tightly in his hand. His breathing was shallow, each step careful to avoid the debris scattered across the cracked and bloodied tiled floor. The world had fallen into chaos, and this hospital, like so many other remnants of civilization, had become a graveyard—a silent monument to what once was.

Months of survival had stripped away Beomgyu’s optimism, leaving behind a man hardened by loss and desperation. His sharp eyes scanned every corner, his ears tuned to the faintest noise. He’d learned to live moment by moment, scavenging for supplies and avoiding the ravenous undead that now outnumbered the living. His mind was a steel trap, blocking out memories of his family and the life he’d once known. To dwell on the past was to invite death.

The hospital, eerily silent, held an unspoken threat. Every room was a gamble—empty or infested. Beomgyu moved with precision, his steps muted by his worn sneakers. The familiar weight of his crowbar brought him some semblance of comfort, though he knew it would only be useful against a few of the creatures at best. The undead didn’t tire, didn’t hesitate, and didn’t feel fear. A mistake here would cost him everything.

As he pushed open the door to the hospital’s pharmacy, the stench of decay hit him like a wall. Shelves were overturned, their contents long looted, leaving behind a wasteland of shattered glass and torn packaging. Beomgyu covered his nose with his sleeve, his stomach churning at the rancid smell. 

He crouched down, sifting through the debris. His hands moved with practiced efficiency, brushing aside broken vials and expired medications in search of anything useful. Just as he found a small stash of unopened bandages and a bottle of antibiotics tucked behind a counter, a faint sound stopped him in his tracks.

A cry of pain.

Beomgyu froze, his muscles tensing as adrenaline surged through his veins. The sound was faint, almost drowned out by the distant groans of the undead outside. His grip tightened on his crowbar as his eyes darted toward the door. He strained his ears, heart pounding, as the sound came again—a low, guttural moan mixed with the unmistakable note of human suffering. 

Against his better judgment, he stood and crept toward the source of the noise. The hospital was a maze, its once orderly layout now a chaotic ruin of overturned furniture and shattered glass. He kept his footsteps light, his weapon raised, as he followed the sound down a dimly lit hallway.

The noise led him to a room near the end of the corridor. The door was slightly ajar, the flickering light casting distorted shadows across the floor. Beomgyu hesitated, his instincts screaming at him to turn back. He’d learned the hard way that curiosity in this world often led to death. But something about the sound tugged at him—a reminder of the humanity he’d buried deep within himself.

He pushed the door open slowly, his breath hitching as he stepped inside.

Y/N sat slumped against the wall of a makeshift shelter she’d crafted from hospital curtains and overturned furniture. Her arm throbbed with pain, the crude bandage she’d wrapped around her bite wound soaked through with blood and pus. She’d been hiding here for days, fighting off the infection with whatever scraps of medication she could find. But it was a losing battle.

Her body burned with fever, her vision swimming as she struggled to stay conscious. Her hands trembled as she clutched a piece of metal piping, the only weapon she had left. She’d heard the moans outside the room, the shuffle of feet, and now footsteps—steady and purposeful—approaching her hiding spot. Whoever it was, or whatever it was, they weren’t stopping.

The door creaked open, and Y/N’s grip on the pipe tightened. “Stay back!” she croaked, her voice hoarse from dehydration and disuse.

A man stepped into the room, his silhouette sharp against the flickering light. His eyes, dark and calculating, scanned the room before settling on her. He looked like he belonged in this world—worn clothes, a weapon at the ready, and a demeanor that screamed survival. But he wasn’t undead, and for that, Y/N felt a small flicker of relief, quickly drowned out by suspicion.

“You’re hurt,” he said, his voice low but steady. He took a cautious step forward, raising his free hand in what he hoped was a non-threatening gesture. “Let me help.”

Y/N pressed herself harder against the wall, the effort sending a wave of pain through her injured arm. “I don’t need your help,” she hissed, her tone defiant despite the weakness in her body. “I’m fine.”

The man’s gaze flicked to the bandage on her arm, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You don’t look fine.”

“I said I can handle it!” she snapped, her voice cracking. But as she tried to raise the pipe higher, her strength gave out. The makeshift weapon clattered to the floor, and she slumped forward, barely catching herself before hitting the ground.

The man hesitated, his own instincts warring within him. He could walk away. Leave her to her fate. It wasn’t his problem—nothing in this world was anymore. But as he looked at her, pale and drenched in sweat, something inside him softened. Against his better judgment, he crouched down, keeping a safe distance.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said, his voice gentler now. “But if you don’t treat that wound, you won’t last much longer.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered with mistrust, but she was too weak to argue. After a long pause, she gave a small, reluctant nod, her head dipping forward in exhaustion. The man moved closer, his movements deliberate as he reached for her arm. He worked quickly, unwrapping the bandage to inspect the wound beneath.

His expression darkened at the sight of the bite mark. It was deep, the edges inflamed and oozing. He’d seen this before. He knew what it meant. But he didn’t say anything, his mind already racing for a way to help her.

“What’s your name?” he asked as he reached into his bag for supplies.

“Y/N,” she muttered, her voice barely audible. “And you?”

“Beomgyu,” he replied, pulling out a small bottle of antiseptic. “This is going to hurt.”

Y/N let out a weak laugh, the sound hollow. “It already does.”

Beomgyu couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips, though it quickly faded as he focused on cleaning the wound. Y/N flinched, biting back a cry of pain as the antiseptic burned against her skin. Beomgyu worked quickly but carefully, his hands steady despite the chaos around them.

As he finished rewrapping the bandage, he sat back on his heels, meeting her gaze. “You’re lucky I found you,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “This place isn’t safe.”

“No place is,” Y/N replied, her voice stronger now but still tinged with exhaustion. “But thanks.”

Beomgyu nodded, rising to his feet. He offered her a hand, and after a moment of hesitation, she took it. Her grip was weak, but there was a spark of determination in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“Let’s get out of here,” Beomgyu said, his voice firm. “Together.”

For the first time in days, Y/N allowed herself to hope.

The hospital walls felt like they were closing in, the air thick with the stench of decay and despair. Beomgyu and Y/N moved cautiously through the hallways, their steps echoing in the oppressive silence. Beomgyu took the lead, his crowbar at the ready, while Y/N followed close behind, clutching her injured arm. The fever had sapped her strength, but she refused to slow them down.

They paused at a junction where the corridor split into two directions. Beomgyu held up a hand, signaling for Y/N to stop. He tilted his head, listening intently for any signs of danger. The distant groans of the undead were ever-present, a haunting reminder that they were never truly safe.

“This way,” Beomgyu whispered, pointing to the left. He glanced back at Y/N, noting the paleness of her face and the sheen of sweat on her brow. “Can you keep up?”

Y/N nodded, though her legs felt like lead. “I’ll manage.”

They pressed on, weaving through the debris-strewn corridors. Beomgyu’s eyes were constantly scanning their surroundings, his grip on the crowbar firm. Y/N couldn’t help but admire his focus and determination. He moved with the precision of someone who’d survived countless encounters with the undead, each step purposeful and calculated.

“How long have you been on your own?” Y/N asked, breaking the heavy silence.

Beomgyu glanced at her, his expression guarded. “Long enough,” he said simply. 

Y/N frowned but didn’t press further. She understood the need to keep certain things buried. In this world, memories were often more painful than comforting.

They reached a stairwell, the metal steps leading both up and down. Beomgyu hesitated, weighing their options. “The roof might give us a clear view of the area,” he said. “But it’s a risk. Zombies could be up there too.”

“And downstairs?” Y/N asked, her voice tinged with exhaustion.

“Could lead to an exit,” Beomgyu replied. “Or a dead end.”

Y/N leaned against the wall, catching her breath. “You decide. I’ll follow.”

Beomgyu studied her for a moment, then nodded. “We go up. If it’s clear, we can rest for a bit.”

They ascended the stairs, each step creaking under their weight. The tension was palpable, every sound amplified in the oppressive silence. Beomgyu reached the top first, pausing to listen before cautiously pushing open the door. The rooftop was empty, bathed in the pale light of the setting sun. 

“It’s clear,” he said, holding the door open for Y/N. She stepped out onto the roof, her breath hitching at the sight of the ruined city stretching out before them. Buildings stood in various states of collapse, their skeletal remains silhouetted against the fiery sky. Smoke rose in thin columns from scattered fires, and the distant moans of the undead carried on the wind.

Y/N sank to the ground, her back against the low wall surrounding the rooftop. Beomgyu joined her, setting his crowbar aside as he rummaged through his bag. He pulled out a water bottle, handing it to her without a word.

“Thanks,” she said, taking a grateful sip. The water was lukewarm, but it was a welcome relief against the dryness in her throat.

Beomgyu leaned back, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “What were you doing in the hospital?” he asked after a long silence.

Y/N hesitated, her fingers tightening around the water bottle. “I got separated from my group,” she said finally. “We were scavenging for supplies when we got ambushed by a horde. I ended up here, hoping to find something to help with this.” She gestured to her bandaged arm.

Beomgyu’s jaw tightened. “And the bite?”

“Happened during the ambush,” Y/N admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been trying to keep it from spreading, but…” She trailed off, her eyes glistening with unshed tears but she quickly blinked them away. Her survival instinct had long since overtaken any remnants of vulnerability, but the reality of her situation was starting to sink in. 

Beomgyu watched her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without a word, he reached into his bag again and pulled out a small, battered notebook. It was clear from the wear that it had been used frequently, though its pages were mostly blank. He flipped it open to a page with a few hastily scribbled notes. 

“I’ve been on my own for a while too,” he said quietly, his fingers tracing the faded ink. “The first few days, it was just panic. Trying to find my family, trying to understand what happened. I’ve lost a lot since then.” His voice caught slightly, but he quickly masked it with a tight exhale. “But... there’s always this small part of me that keeps thinking if I just push a little harder, if I just survive a little longer, I’ll find something worth holding onto.”

Y/N turned her head toward him, the weight of his words sinking in. It was something she understood all too well—the constant pushing forward, driven by the hope of a future that didn’t seem to exist anymore.

“I know the feeling,” she murmured, taking another slow sip of water. “I keep telling myself that if I just survive, if I just make it through today, maybe tomorrow will be better. But... I don’t know if that’s ever going to happen.” Her gaze dropped to the bandaged wound on her arm. “Sometimes, it feels like it’s already over.”

There was a long silence as the city stretched out before them, silent except for the occasional moan of the undead and the distant sounds of fires crackling. Beomgyu remained still, deep in thought, but his mind was far from the immediate danger surrounding them. The words shared between them felt heavier than the building tension in the air. 

Y/N’s hand trembled slightly as she placed the empty water bottle on the ground beside her. “What if... we don’t make it out of here?” she asked, the question heavy with unspoken fear.

Beomgyu’s eyes softened as he turned to face her, the weight of the question sitting between them. “Then at least we’ll have each other’s backs until the end,” he said quietly, his voice steady but laced with a rare, unspoken promise. “Maybe that's enough.”

Y/N blinked at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. In a world where trust was a luxury most couldn’t afford, the offer of even the smallest measure of support felt like an unexpected lifeline.

She nodded, though her throat tightened at the thought. They were both out here for different reasons, but in the end, it didn’t matter. Survival had become a shared goal. And for now, it was enough to know that they didn’t have to face it alone.

The sound of shuffling feet below broke their reverie, and both of them stood up in an instant, ready to face whatever new threat might appear. Beomgyu gripped his crowbar tightly, scanning the horizon for signs of movement. Y/N’s hand instinctively went to the pipe by her side, her muscles aching with the effort but her resolve unbroken.

“Get ready,” Beomgyu whispered, his voice calm but urgent. “We don’t know how many are out there, but we’ll need to move fast.”

Y/N nodded, pushing herself to her feet despite the dizziness threatening to overtake her. She didn’t have much strength left, but she wasn’t about to let that stop her. She wasn’t going to be the one to slow them down.

The two of them moved cautiously to the edge of the roof, watching as a small group of undead shuffled aimlessly through the street below. It wasn’t a horde, but they were numerous enough to pose a threat if they drew attention. Beomgyu’s eyes narrowed as he assessed their options. 

“We need to find another way down,” he muttered, scanning the area. “Too risky to go through them.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her mind racing. “There’s a fire escape on the side of the building. It’s not ideal, but it’ll get us down without alerting them.”

Beomgyu’s eyes flicked over to her, his gaze calculating. “You sure?”

Y/N gave a small nod, though the tremor in her hands betrayed her uncertainty. “We don’t have much time. If we wait here too long, we’ll attract more.”

With a shared look, the decision was made. They both moved toward the edge of the roof, crouching low to avoid detection. As they reached the ledge, Beomgyu carefully lifted the fire escape ladder, testing its weight to ensure it would hold. Y/N hesitated for only a moment before climbing down after him, her injured arm flaring with pain but ignored in the rush of adrenaline.

The moment they reached the bottom of the ladder, the silence shattered as the first of the undead moaned loudly from above. It was a warning that they couldn’t afford to ignore.

“Let’s go,” Beomgyu hissed, motioning for Y/N to follow as he darted into the alley.

They sprinted through the dimly lit streets, their footsteps barely audible over the noise of distant shuffling. Every corner was a potential trap, every shadow could hide an enemy. The world had become a labyrinth of danger, and every step felt like a gamble.

Y/N felt the strain of exhaustion pulling at her, but she pushed it down, focusing on the sound of Beomgyu’s footsteps ahead. They moved as one, two survivors clinging to the hope that they could escape the nightmare that had consumed their world.

For now, that hope was enough.

The world was an endless expanse of decay, and every corner they turned seemed to offer only more ruin. The distant groans of the undead echoed through the streets, a constant reminder that nowhere was truly safe anymore. Beomgyu led the way, his footsteps light but determined as he navigated the crumbling cityscape. Y/N followed closely behind, her breath ragged, but her resolve unwavering.

They had been running for what felt like hours, weaving through alleyways and abandoned buildings, always listening for the telltale shuffle of approaching undead feet. The fire escape had provided a temporary reprieve, but they both knew it was only a matter of time before they ran into more danger. The constant pressure was like a weight on their chests, never allowing them to breathe easy.

But in these moments of relentless survival, small victories meant everything.

Y/N’s injured arm throbbed with each movement, and the fever burning inside her was becoming more unbearable with every passing minute. Her body was losing the fight to the infection, but she refused to acknowledge it. It wasn’t just her life at stake anymore. Beomgyu had become an unexpected companion in a world where trust was a dangerous luxury, and that bond—fragile as it was—meant survival.

She glanced at him as they paused for a moment in the shelter of an old, collapsed storefront. He was scanning the area, his eyes sharp despite the exhaustion lining his face. Beomgyu had been the one to keep them moving, always a step ahead, always focused. His ability to remain calm in the face of danger was something she envied. But there were cracks in his armor, moments where his steely exterior faltered. She’d seen it when he looked at her bandaged arm, and she’d caught the fleeting flash of regret in his eyes when he’d taken the water bottle from his bag and handed it to her without a word.

She knew he wasn’t invincible. Neither of them were.

“Do you think we’re getting any closer to a safe zone?” Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she leaned against the remnants of a brick wall.

Beomgyu didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took a slow breath and ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his eyes distant as he stared down the alleyway ahead of them.

“It’s hard to say,” he finally said, his voice low. “The whole city’s been overrun. There’s no telling where you might find a safe place anymore. Most of the military zones have fallen, too. I heard a rumor once that a group of survivors managed to hold out at a high school on the other side of the city, but... that was months ago. Who knows what’s left?”

Y/N’s heart sank at the mention of the military zones. She’d heard the stories too—how the government forces had initially tried to contain the outbreak, but eventually, they’d been overwhelmed. There was no hope left in those places now, just memories of a world that once felt like it could be saved.

“We keep moving,” Beomgyu added after a long pause, shaking off the thought. “At least we’re alive for now. That’s enough.”

Y/N nodded, though the exhaustion gnawing at her body made it hard to keep her focus. Her head felt fuzzy, her vision wavering at the edges. The fever was beginning to cloud her thoughts, and she knew it wouldn’t be long before she could no longer ignore the infection eating at her. She just needed to survive long enough to get somewhere safe... wherever that was.

"Let’s go," Beomgyu said, snapping her out of her spiraling thoughts. "We’ve still got a ways to go before we can find cover for the night."

With a grunt of effort, she pushed herself off the wall and followed him once more into the abandoned streets. They passed through another alleyway, the shadows growing deeper with each step. Every creak of a broken window, every distant thud sent her heart racing. The fear of being discovered was constant, gnawing at her every step.

Beomgyu led them through another series of alleys, his sharp gaze scanning the rooftops and windows as they moved. They came to another intersection, and he paused, raising his hand. His eyes flicked left and right, searching for movement.

“Stay close,” he said quietly, his voice tense.

Y/N did as he instructed, staying just a few steps behind him, her hand tight around the metal pipe. She couldn’t remember the last time her heart wasn’t hammering in her chest. Every sound, every creak and groan felt like a threat, like the world was conspiring to tear them apart.

Beomgyu’s sharp eyes darted to the left, and his posture stiffened.

“They’re close,” he whispered, barely moving his lips.

Y/N’s eyes widened as she turned her head toward the sound. Through a broken window across the street, she could make out the silhouettes of a small group of the undead moving slowly, aimlessly, through the rubble-strewn street. They were close—too close.

Beomgyu gestured to the right, motioning for Y/N to follow him. They both slipped into a nearby doorway, their bodies pressed against the cold stone of the building. The undead were barely thirty feet away, unaware of their presence.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she held perfectly still. She could hear the rasping breath of one of the creatures, the groans as it shuffled aimlessly past them. It was like a nightmare, the way the monsters just wandered, unaware of the world around them. Every step felt like a ticking clock. It was only a matter of time before they noticed something amiss, and when they did...

Her mind raced. They couldn’t afford to be spotted. They couldn’t risk a fight with this many.

Beomgyu looked at her, his expression unreadable. Slowly, he raised his finger to his lips in a silent command for her to stay quiet. She nodded imperceptibly, then turned her attention back to the group of undead.

Minutes felt like hours, but eventually, the creatures drifted past without so much as a glance in their direction. Beomgyu exhaled slowly, his posture relaxing just a fraction.

“Let’s move,” he whispered, stepping out of the doorway cautiously.

They continued, more cautiously now, slipping through the deserted streets. The sun had dipped low in the sky, casting long, skeletal shadows across the landscape. The air was thick with dust, and the distant hum of the undead was never far behind. Each step was a risk, but they didn’t have a choice. They had to keep moving.

After what felt like hours of walking, they came upon an abandoned store. Beomgyu motioned for Y/N to follow him inside. The shelves were bare, but the place offered shelter. A few broken windows let in the fading light, but it would do.

“We’ll stay here for the night,” Beomgyu said as he dropped his bag by a corner and began to scan the room for anything useful. “We need rest.”

Y/N nodded but didn’t sit down. Her legs felt like lead, and the pain in her arm had become a dull throb, but there was no time to rest. She needed to keep her guard up, needed to make sure they were safe before allowing herself the luxury of sleep.

Beomgyu noticed her hesitation and gave her a look. “You’re not fooling anyone. Sit down. I’ll keep watch.”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest but stopped herself. She was too tired, too weak to argue. With a small, resigned sigh, she slid down against the wall, wrapping her arms around her knees.

“Thanks,” she murmured softly, closing her eyes for just a moment. "For everything."

Beomgyu didn’t answer, but she could feel his gaze on her. His silence was enough.

The night was their only reprieve in a world that never stopped hunting.

The faint sounds of the world outside seemed to grow distant, as though the city itself was slipping into an eerie silence. For a moment, the only thing that remained was the sound of Beomgyu’s steady breathing and the soft rustle of Y/N’s clothes as she adjusted her position against the wall. Her body ached, and the fever burned like fire from within, but she forced herself to focus on the here and now. Her survival instinct was the only thing keeping her tethered to this crumbling world.

It felt strange, sitting in the stillness of the store. For so long, her days had been defined by constant motion—by the pursuit of food, shelter, safety—anything that could prolong her life just a little bit longer. Now, with nothing to do but wait, it was as though time itself had slowed. A dangerous kind of stillness, one that could only mean one thing: They weren’t safe, not truly, not yet. But exhaustion was creeping into her bones, and no matter how hard she tried to stay alert, her body betrayed her.

She glanced over at Beomgyu, who was seated at the far end of the room, his back against the wall as he surveyed the room with a look of quiet vigilance. His eyes flicked to every corner, every shadow, his focus razor-sharp despite the fatigue written all over him. His crowbar rested against the floor next to him, his fingers occasionally tapping the handle in a rhythmic, almost absent-minded way.

"How long do you think we'll stay here?" Y/N asked quietly, her voice hoarse from the strain of the day.

Beomgyu’s gaze shifted slightly to her, and for a moment, the hardness in his eyes softened. "We leave before morning," he replied, his voice low but resolute. "We can’t afford to stay in one place too long."

Y/N nodded, her eyes drifting to the cracked window that let in the last of the fading sunlight. Night was creeping in, and soon they would be submerged in complete darkness, with only the sounds of the undead to keep them company.

“I don’t want to keep you waiting,” she said, forcing herself to speak through the growing fog in her mind. "But I need a moment…"

Beomgyu didn’t respond at first. He just continued watching her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he gave a slight nod, a rare gesture of understanding that made her heart skip. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for her to feel a quiet comfort settle over her.

She leaned her head back against the wall, letting her eyes flutter closed for a brief moment, too tired to keep them open. For the first time in what felt like days, she allowed herself the luxury of rest. Even so, her mind remained alert, always calculating, always prepared for the worst.

Minutes passed. Or was it hours? Time seemed irrelevant in a world like this. The shadows shifted, deepening as the sun disappeared behind the horizon, leaving only the pale light of a dying world. The noise outside was still there—faint moans in the distance, shuffling footsteps. But it was far off, at least for now. They were safe, at least for the moment.

Suddenly, the sound of shuffling footsteps broke her fleeting peace. Beomgyu was on his feet in an instant, his body tense, his hand gripping the crowbar with practiced ease. His eyes darted to the door, alert, listening.

Y/N’s pulse quickened. She rose to her feet with a grimace, pain shooting through her injured arm, but she held back a gasp. Every part of her wanted to rest, to ignore the world outside, but the reality of their situation couldn’t be ignored.

Beomgyu motioned for her to stay quiet as he moved toward the door, crouching low as he peered through the cracks in the old wooden panels. Y/N’s heart hammered in her chest, her breath shallow as she held her position. Her eyes searched the room, but all she could focus on was the sound—the unmistakable shuffle of undead, growing closer.

Minutes stretched out before Beomgyu slowly withdrew from the door, signaling for Y/N to remain still. His face was set, his jaw clenched. He looked back at her, his eyes sharp.

“They’re close,” he whispered. “We’re not alone in this building anymore.”

Y/N’s chest tightened. They hadn’t come all this way just to be cornered now. The shadows in the room felt heavier, and the stillness only made the threat more palpable.

"We can’t fight them here," Beomgyu continued, his voice low but firm. "We need to get out. Now."

His words jolted her into action. Y/N nodded quickly, pain flooding through her as she grabbed her weapon—the metal pipe—and moved toward the back exit with Beomgyu in tow. They had no time to waste.

But as they turned the corner to make their way to the back, a deafening crash echoed from the front of the store, followed by the unmistakable sound of low, guttural growls. The undead had found their way in.

Y/N’s heart leapt into her throat. She could hear the scrabble of their feet against the floor, the sickening sounds of their teeth gnashing. She had to focus. They couldn’t let themselves be trapped again.

“Through here!” Beomgyu barked, pointing toward the back exit that led into a narrow alley. He didn’t wait for her to respond, already sprinting toward the door. Y/N followed, pushing through the pain in her arm, willing herself to keep up.

Just as Beomgyu reached the door, it suddenly crashed open, and the first of the undead spilled into the room.

“Go!” Beomgyu shouted, barely turning his head as he swung his crowbar, knocking the creature back into the pile of its companions.

Y/N sprinted toward the exit, ignoring the burning in her legs, the weight of her injury. She had to get out of there. The sounds of pursuit were getting louder—she could hear the shuffle of footsteps, the sickening moans, but there was no time to stop. She couldn’t afford to look back.

They spilled into the alley, the city streets stretching out before them, darkened by the encroaching night. Beomgyu kept a sharp eye on the surroundings as they ran, pushing her ahead of him, making sure she didn’t fall behind. She was struggling now, her strength slipping away, but she refused to stop. She couldn’t. Not when they were so close to escaping.

Behind them, the undead were closing in, the shuffle of their feet a constant reminder of how much danger they were still in. But the alley was narrow, and the buildings crowded together, creating shadows that could offer them a momentary reprieve.

Beomgyu’s voice broke through the pounding of her heart, sharp and urgent. “This way!” He turned sharply, heading toward a set of crumbling stairs that led to a rooftop access.

Y/N’s mind was barely keeping up as they ascended, her legs threatening to give out with each step. But the urgency in Beomgyu’s movements kept her going. She wasn’t ready to give up—not yet.

As they reached the top, Beomgyu gestured toward a large metal door. “We can secure this—at least for a while,” he said, panting.

Y/N nodded, stumbling forward. She was barely able to focus, her vision blurring, but her determination remained unwavering. She just needed to rest. Just for a moment.

Beomgyu was already securing the door, blocking their only way out with whatever he could find. The noise of the undead grew faint, and for a fleeting moment, Y/N felt something close to safety again.

She collapsed onto the ground near the edge of the roof, finally giving in to the exhaustion that had been clawing at her for hours. The sky above them was dark, but the city below was alive with danger. Still, for a brief, precious moment, they had found a sliver of peace.

Beomgyu crouched down beside her, watching her carefully. His face was tense, but there was something softer in his eyes now.

“We’ll make it through this,” he said, his voice steady.

Y/N nodded, even as she felt the fever burn hotter in her veins. She didn’t know what the next day would bring—if they’d make it out of the city alive or if their fight would come to an end here.

But for now, she was alive. And that was all she could hold onto.

The cold night air was a harsh contrast to the feverish heat coursing through Y/N’s body. She could feel the sweat on her brow as the wind tousled her hair, and the sudden chill made her shiver despite her exhaustion. The rooftop offered them a temporary haven, but it also felt like a precarious perch—like standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing the fall could come at any moment.

Beomgyu paced back and forth, his figure silhouetted against the city’s dim skyline. His eyes scanned every movement in the shadows, every flicker of light that passed beneath their vantage point. The tension in his posture never eased, as if he was always expecting something to go wrong. Y/N could sense it too—the constant, gnawing anxiety that something worse could be lurking just around the corner.

She had to fight to stay awake. Her limbs felt heavy, like weights attached to her body, and the dizziness kept threatening to pull her under. Every breath was a struggle, each inhale sharp with the sting of pain. Her arm, the bite wound, was burning, feverish, the skin around it hot and swollen. She hadn’t been able to tell Beomgyu the truth about how far the infection had spread. He was trying to help her, but there was only so much he could do.

Beomgyu stopped pacing and crouched next to her, his eyes softening as he watched her struggle to stay upright.

"Hey," he said gently, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "You need to rest. We’ll keep watch, but you have to take care of yourself. If that infection gets worse..." His words trailed off, but they didn’t need to be said. They both knew what would happen.

Y/N shook her head weakly. "I’m fine. I can keep going. We need to stay moving."

"Resting doesn't mean you're giving up," Beomgyu countered, his voice firm, yet there was something in it—something that spoke of a quiet understanding. "You can’t help anyone if you’re dead on your feet."

She met his gaze for a long moment. There was no argument in his eyes—only that steady, silent insistence that she take care of herself. She wanted to protest, to argue that they needed to move now while they still had the advantage of surprise, but the exhaustion was overwhelming. The fight drained out of her, leaving only the raw need for rest.

She nodded finally, leaning back against the cold stone of the rooftop wall. Beomgyu moved away, continuing to keep watch, but now at least Y/N felt the weight of the world ease, just a little. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the uncomfortable throbbing in her arm, the heat of the fever. She tried to focus on the sound of the wind, the distant groans of the undead below, but her mind kept wandering to places she didn’t want to go.

Her family. Her old life. She had to push it all away.

But it was impossible.

A sharp pain cut through her thoughts, and she winced, her breath catching in her throat. She had never felt so vulnerable—so alone.

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, trying to block out the images, trying to force herself into a deep sleep. But it was no use.

The hours dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity. The night was still, but the air was thick with the tension of uncertainty. Beomgyu was still vigilant, but his movements had slowed, and Y/N could tell the fatigue was starting to take its toll on him too. His eyes were darker, clouded with something deeper than just exhaustion—something she had come to recognize in survivors. It was the silent weight of everything they had lost, the things they had done, the choices they had made.

She could feel the change in him. He wasn’t just a man surviving; he was a man shaped by the world they were living in—a world that had stripped away everything but the will to survive. She could see it in the way he moved, the way he responded to every sound and shadow, like a hunter tracking his prey, even when there was nothing to hunt.

And it terrified her.

Still, the exhaustion dragged her down. Despite her best efforts to stay alert, to stay on guard, the world around her began to blur and fade.

Beomgyu didn’t look at her as she slipped into sleep—he knew better. There was no need to watch her, no need to ask her how she was. He knew what the infection meant. He had seen it before.

But he couldn't help it—he couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach. Y/N had been so strong, so defiant, and yet now, she was becoming quieter, slower. Each hour that passed seemed to drain her of more life, until she was barely a shadow of the woman he had met hours ago.

Still, he watched her for a long time, torn between the brutal truth and the desperate hope that somehow, she would pull through.

Y/N awoke to the feeling of something soft against her forehead. At first, she thought it was the wind. But as she stirred, she felt Beomgyu’s cool fingers brushing the sweat from her brow. His touch was gentle, as if he were afraid to hurt her, and for a moment, she wondered if this was all some kind of dream.

When she opened her eyes, he was crouched beside her, his expression unreadable.

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly.

Her throat was dry, but she tried to swallow, her voice coming out cracked. “I’m... I’m alright.”

Beomgyu studied her for a moment, his eyes lingering on her bandaged arm. The wound had become worse in the few hours that they had been resting—she could tell by the way his jaw clenched when he glanced at it.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper. "For slowing us down."

He shook his head quickly. “You don’t need to apologize. You’re not slowing us down. We’re in this together.”

There it was again—the unspoken bond between them. A strange, fragile connection formed not by words, but by necessity. In this new world, alliances weren’t born from trust. They were born from survival.

Beomgyu stood up, his posture still tense, but there was a softness in the way he looked at her—like he was trying to decide if it was time to say the things that needed to be said.

“I think it’s time to move,” he said, after a long pause. “We can’t stay here much longer. But we can’t head back the way we came either. There’s a secondary exit in this building. It leads out toward the outskirts of the city.”

Y/N nodded slowly, the fog of sleep still clouding her mind. "Alright."

She didn’t have the energy to argue, not with the exhaustion that weighed on her, not with the knowledge that there was no safe place anymore. The world had become a cruel game, where survival meant never resting, never letting your guard down.

She slowly pulled herself to her feet, Beomgyu offering his hand to help steady her. Her legs trembled beneath her, but she pushed through it.

They had no choice but to keep going.

The descent from the rooftop was swift but cautious. Every step they took brought them closer to the unknown, to whatever awaited them in the darkened streets below. As they navigated through the narrow alleys and abandoned streets, the sounds of the undead grew fainter, as if the city itself was holding its breath, waiting for something.

For the first time since they’d met, Y/N allowed herself to look at Beomgyu with a bit more clarity. Despite the harshness of the world, despite the bleakness that surrounded them, there was a steady resolve in his actions that made her believe, just for a moment, that there might be something worth fighting for. Something beyond the next meal or the next step.

They had each other.

And maybe that was enough.

The city stretched out before them like a labyrinth of destruction, a silent witness to the horrors of the world. Buildings loomed like skeletal remains, casting long shadows under the pale moonlight. The streets were littered with debris—shattered glass, abandoned vehicles, signs of life long gone. 

Beomgyu led the way, his movements sharp and deliberate, while Y/N stumbled slightly behind him. The fever had taken a heavier toll on her since they left the rooftop, her head spinning with each step. She felt like her body was betraying her—her legs were heavy, her mind clouded by exhaustion. She clenched her jaw, refusing to show weakness. She couldn’t afford to. 

They reached the back entrance of the hospital, a side door barely hanging on its hinges. Beomgyu motioned for Y/N to wait as he carefully nudged the door open, peering into the hallway beyond. It was dark, the dim glow from flickering emergency lights casting unsettling shadows on the walls. 

“Clear,” Beomgyu whispered, stepping inside. Y/N followed closely, her footsteps echoing softly in the empty corridor. 

The air inside smelled stale, like death and decay. The walls were cracked and peeling, remnants of a once functioning hospital now reduced to a crumbling shell. The silence was suffocating, punctuated only by the distant moans of the undead somewhere outside, drifting through the broken windows.

They moved quickly, navigating through the building with practiced precision. Beomgyu’s eyes flicked from shadow to shadow, always alert. Y/N tried to focus, but the dizziness was overwhelming. She couldn’t ignore it anymore. Her body was starting to fail her.

After a few minutes of winding through empty halls, Beomgyu stopped at a door marked “Stairs.” He opened it cautiously, glancing up and down the stairwell. 

“Down,” he said. “We’ll get out through the basement.”

Y/N didn’t respond immediately. Her mind felt heavy, and the faint ringing in her ears made it difficult to concentrate. She wanted to protest, wanted to suggest another route, but she knew better. There was no time to argue. She pushed forward, forcing her legs to move, each step feeling like a mountain to climb.

Beomgyu led them down the stairs quickly but quietly. The basement was supposed to be an exit, but it was also a place of danger. The shadows here were darker, the air thick with dust and dampness. The faint glow from Beomgyu’s flashlight barely illuminated the path ahead, casting eerie shapes across the walls.

Y/N’s breath quickened as they reached the bottom. The walls here were lined with storage shelves, some toppled over, others empty. The floor was scattered with broken crates and debris, remnants of the hospital’s past.

“We need to move fast,” Beomgyu whispered. “There’s a service tunnel just ahead.”

They made their way deeper into the basement, the space growing colder with each step. Y/N’s mind was becoming foggier, her body losing its grip on reality. She could barely keep her feet beneath her, her vision swimming in and out of focus. The wound on her arm throbbed, sending waves of heat through her body.

“Beomgyu...” she said faintly, her voice barely audible.

He stopped, turning to face her. His expression was tense, his brow furrowed in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I... I don’t feel so good,” she muttered, her voice slurring slightly. “I can’t... I can’t keep up.”

Beomgyu’s heart sank as he saw the distress in her eyes. Her condition was worsening, faster than he had anticipated. She had been so strong before, so determined. But now, she looked like she might collapse at any moment.

He moved toward her, his face softening as he reached for her arm. “Hey, we’re almost there,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “You’re not alone. Just a little further.”

Y/N shook her head weakly. “I don’t know if I can make it.”

“You’re going to make it,” Beomgyu insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument. He couldn’t lose her—not now, not after everything they had been through. “We’ll make it out together. I won’t leave you.”

Y/N met his gaze, her eyes clouded with uncertainty. She could see the resolve in his face, but she couldn’t help the doubt creeping into her own heart. She was tired—so tired—and the infection was spreading faster than she had expected. Her vision blurred again, and her knees buckled beneath her.

Beomgyu caught her before she hit the ground, his grip tight as he lifted her up. His heart was racing now, his mind spinning with the possibilities. He knew the risks, knew the chances of survival were slim if they didn’t move quickly. But he couldn’t let her go—not like this.

“Come on,” he urged, his voice a soft command. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

Y/N’s head lolled against his chest as he supported her weight. She was barely conscious, her breath shallow, and he could feel the heat radiating from her body. The infection had taken hold, and there was nothing he could do to stop it now. He could only keep moving.

They reached the service tunnel after what felt like an eternity, and Beomgyu pushed open the heavy metal door using his body with a grunt. The tunnel was narrow and damp, the air heavy with the smell of mildew and decay. It stretched into darkness, an unknown path toward freedom—or death.

“We’re almost there,” Beomgyu said again, though he wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure her or himself. 

He moved quickly through the tunnel, his footsteps echoing against the concrete walls. Y/N’s breath was growing more labored, and he could feel her body growing heavier in his arms. The tunnel felt endless, the air oppressive, as though the walls themselves were closing in on them.

Suddenly, a noise from ahead made Beomgyu stop dead in his tracks. His grip tightened around Y/N  as he slowly turned to face the darkness ahead. The distant shuffle of feet reached his ears, the unmistakable sound of the undead closing in on them.

Beomgyu’s heart raced. He wasn’t sure how many of them there were, but there was no time to waste. He had to keep moving.

"Y/N, stay with me!" he shouted, his voice fierce.

But there was no response. When he looked at her, Y/N was barely conscious, her head hanging limply from his shoulder. Her body was growing cold, her breathing shallow and uneven. Beomgyu’s blood ran cold as he realized just how close they were to the brink.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice desperate. “Not now. Not like this.”

He scanned the tunnel ahead, his mind racing for a plan. He couldn’t fight them all. There was no way they would survive another encounter with the undead in their current state. But he had to get her out—he had to keep moving.

Without another thought, Beomgyu began to run, his legs burning with the effort. He moved through the tunnel as fast as he could, the sound of the undead growing louder with each passing second. They were closing in.

Finally, the tunnel opened up into a small utility room, its door cracked open just enough to slip through. Beomgyu wasted no time, pushing the door open and stumbling into the room. He found himself in a dimly lit alleyway, the city streets stretched out before them. 

But even as he stepped into the open air, he could hear the shuffling footsteps behind them, drawing closer. He wasn’t sure how much longer they could keep running.

Beomgyu’s heart thudded in his chest, each beat a relentless reminder of how close they were to the edge. His breath came in short, frantic gasps as he pulled Y/N further into the alley, her limp body weighing heavily in his arms. He glanced back, the sound of shuffling feet growing louder, the unmistakable groans of the undead inching closer. 

“Come on, come on,” Beomgyu muttered under his breath, willing his legs to move faster, to outrun the nightmare closing in on them. The alley was narrow, the walls of crumbling buildings on either side a silent witness to the chaos that had consumed the world. There was no time to lose.

His gaze darted around desperately, looking for an exit, a safe place to hide. But all he saw were empty streets, abandoned cars, and the dark silhouette of a world that had already fallen apart. There was no refuge here, only the looming threat of death.

“Just a little further,” he said softly to Y/N, even though he wasn’t sure she could hear him anymore. Her head lolled against his chest, her breaths shallow, each exhale a painful rasp, and her body was growing colder by the second. He had to get her out of this, he had to find a way to keep her alive.

He pushed forward, but the sound of the undead grew louder, too close, too close. He rounded a corner and nearly collided with a rusted dumpster, his instincts kicking in as he ducked behind it, pressing Y/N’s limp form against the cold metal. 

The distant groans of the undead were now close enough that Beomgyu could almost feel them, their presence suffocating. His grip tightened on the crowbar in his hand, and his mind raced. There were too many of them, and he was too exposed. The only choice now was to wait, to hope they wouldn’t notice them. 

Beomgyu’s heart pounded as he tried to steady his breath, every muscle in his body tense with fear. His eyes scanned the street, flicking from shadow to shadow, searching for any movement, any sign of danger. He couldn’t let them find them here. He couldn’t let them find Y/N.

Time stretched out like an eternity, the tension unbearable. Beomgyu could feel the weight of the world pressing down on him, the weight of survival, of responsibility, of the life in his arms that was slipping away.

The shuffling grew louder. The undead were almost upon them. Beomgyu’s pulse thundered in his ears, his grip on Y/N tightening as he readied himself for a fight that he knew he might not survive. He wasn’t about to let her die here, not after everything they had gone through. 

“Stay with me, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice raw with desperation. “Please. Stay with me.”

But there was no response. She was barely conscious now, her body trembling in his arms as if it were fighting against the infection that had taken root in her. The infection had taken her voice, taken her strength. She was barely holding on.

Beomgyu’s breath hitched as a low groan echoed from around the corner. He stiffened, his grip on the crowbar tightening as he listened. His heart skipped a beat when the shuffling sound came closer, the unmistakable moans of the undead growing louder.

He could hear them now, the scratch of their rotting feet on the pavement, the clicking of their jaws as they searched for prey. They were here. 

A figure appeared in the distance, its ragged, decaying form barely visible under the dim streetlights. Beomgyu’s stomach turned as he saw more figures behind it, their grotesque forms stumbling forward, aimless and hungry. He could count at least five of them, maybe more.

He had no choice. He couldn’t stay hidden forever. 

Beomgyu moved, crouching low to the ground as he slid his arm around Y/N’s waist. He didn’t have the luxury of thinking. His mind was a blur of instincts and adrenaline as he darted out from behind the dumpster, moving toward the nearest building. The undead weren’t close enough yet to notice them, but the moment they did, it would be over.

The alley was a dead end. But the building ahead of them had a door—half open, a glimmer of hope. Beomgyu’s breath came fast and ragged as he sprinted toward it, his legs burning with the effort. He reached the door and kicked it open with a force that echoed in the silent night.

Inside, the building was dark, its windows boarded up and the air heavy with dust and decay. The sound of the undead was still there, close, but muffled now. Beomgyu didn’t hesitate. He pulled Y/N inside with him, slamming the door shut behind them. 

For a moment, they stood there in the darkness, the only sound the frantic pounding of Beomgyu’s heart and the ragged breathing of both him and Y/N.

Beomgyu pressed his back against the door, his breath shaky. He couldn’t hear the undead anymore, but that didn’t mean they were safe. They had to keep moving. 

Y/N’s weight sagged in his arms as she slipped into unconsciousness. Beomgyu’s heart dropped. She couldn’t survive much longer without proper care. He had to do something, anything to help her. But what?

He looked around the dark room, his eyes scanning for anything that could be of use. The space was abandoned, nothing but old furniture, broken shelves, and discarded items. But his eyes landed on something—a faint glow from the far corner of the room. 

A small, flickering light illuminated the corner of the room, casting long shadows across the floor. Beomgyu moved cautiously toward it, his body tense. As he got closer, he saw a makeshift camp set up in the corner. It looked like someone had been living here—an old cot, a few scattered supplies, and a small lantern.

Beomgyu’s mind raced. Whoever had been here wasn’t around anymore. But they’d left behind supplies. His fingers trembled as he rifled through the abandoned camp. There were medical supplies—bandages, antiseptic, a few vials of antibiotics. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for now.

He grabbed what he could carry and hurried back to Y/N, who was barely breathing now. Her fever had spiked, yet her skin was cold to the touch. Her once fiery spirit seemed to have drained from her body.

Beomgyu quickly set to work, cleaning the wound on her arm and applying the antiseptic he had found. Her body jerked slightly as the alcohol stung, but she didn’t wake. He wrapped her arm as best he could, doing everything in his power to fight the infection. But even he knew this might not be enough. He could only hope it was.

As he finished, Beomgyu sat back on the floor, cradling her head in his lap. He brushed a damp lock of hair from her face, his thumb gently stroking her cold skin. His chest ached with the weight of everything he couldn’t fix. 

The moonlight shone through the cracks in the boarded-up windows, casting an eerie glow across the room. Outside, the world was falling apart, and inside, Beomgyu held onto Y/N with everything he had. The fight wasn’t over, not by a long shot. They had no way of knowing what the future held.

But in that moment, as he stared down at her pale face, he realized one thing.

No matter what happened, he wouldn’t let her die alone.

Y/N’s condition deteriorated rapidly. The night had been long, and the silence in the abandoned building had been oppressive, broken only by her occasional, shallow breaths. Beomgyu sat beside her, his eyes never leaving her fragile form as she lay on the cot he had managed to make for her from scraps of cloth and discarded furniture. He had done everything he could to help her—the wound was cleaned and bandaged, and he had given her water when she could take it. But it wasn’t enough. The infection had taken root, and it was spreading like wildfire.

By dawn, her breathing had become ragged, her body trembling uncontrollably. Beomgyu sat up straighter, the rising panic in his chest threatening to swallow him whole. He’d seen this before. He’d watched people he cared about slip away, their bodies ravaged by the same virus that was now threatening to claim Y/N. The fever was high, and her skin had taken on an unnatural pallor. It wouldn’t be long now.

But then, something changed.

Y/N’s eyes shot open wide, her body jerking as a scream tore from her throat. It was guttural, animalistic, and filled with pain. Beomgyu lunged forward, grabbing her shoulders to steady her, his heart hammering in his chest. Her eyes were wide, dilated, filled with terror as she fought against the convulsions overtaking her body.

“Y/N!” Beomgyu shouted, his voice frantic. “Y/N, look at me! Stay with me!”

But she couldn’t hear him. She was caught in the grip of the infection, her body twitching and convulsing as if the virus was trying to tear her apart from the inside. Beomgyu held her down, trying to keep her still, but she was too strong, too wild. He could see the change happening in her eyes—a blank, hollow look that he knew too well.

“Please… Y/N, fight it!” he begged, his voice breaking. His own heart shattered as he watched her struggle, his mind racing for any solution. Anything that could help her.

It was then that the memories came flooding back. The rumors he had heard, whispered in the darkest corners of the city—talk of a lab, a research facility, where scientists had been working on a cure for the infection before everything collapsed. The lab was a long shot, but it was the only hope left.

Beomgyu gritted his teeth, his determination flaring as he glanced around the room. Y/N was fading before his eyes, and there was nothing left to do but find that lab. He had to go. He had to try.

“I’ll be back,” Beomgyu said, his voice steady despite the rising panic. He pressed his forehead against Y/N’s for a brief moment, feeling the heat of her fever against his skin. “Stay here. I’ll find something to help you.”

Her hand reached up, weak but insistent, grabbing his wrist. Her fingers were trembling, but there was still strength in her grip. She looked up at him, her eyes clouded with pain and desperation, but she managed a whisper.

“Beomgyu…” Her voice was hoarse, barely audible, but the words hit him like a punch to the gut. “If I don’t make it… thank you. For everything.”

Beomgyu’s throat tightened, and he blinked back the surge of emotion threatening to overwhelm him. “You’re going to make it,” he said firmly, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “I won’t let you go. I swear it.”

Reluctantly, he pulled away, his heart breaking with each step as he moved toward the door. He couldn’t afford to waste any more time. There was a chance—a slim one—but it was all he had.

The world outside was a shadow of its former self. The once-thriving city had become a decaying husk, swallowed by the chaos of the apocalypse. Beomgyu stepped through the remnants of what was once a bustling metropolis, moving with purpose despite the growing panic gnawing at him. His only focus was Y/N—her life slipping away, and the antidote that might save her, locked away in the ruins of a laboratory somewhere in the city.

The path ahead was fraught with danger, but there was no choice but to push forward. The air was thick with the putrid stench of decay, mingled with the faint scent of burning rubble that lingered in the aftermath of past fires. The streets, once filled with the laughter and chatter of the city’s inhabitants, were now eerily silent—save for the distant groans and guttural growls of the infected.

Beomgyu gripped the crowbar tighter, the weight of it both comforting and heavy. He knew the stakes all too well. Every step he took could be his last. And yet, he couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when Y/N’s life hung in the balance.

The rumors he had heard were all that kept him going. Whispers of a research lab, hidden in plain sight within the city, where scientists had been working on a cure for the infection before the world had crumbled. It was said to be somewhere near the heart of the city, though no one knew if it still existed. The collapse of the government, the destruction of institutions, and the rise of the undead had made finding such a place a near-impossible task. But Beomgyu had to try.

His thoughts flickered back to the moment when he had left her. Her grip on his wrist, her voice weak but filled with gratitude, still echoed in his mind. She had been so certain, so willing to accept her fate if it came to that. But Beomgyu couldn’t accept that. Not when there was a chance, however slim, that he could save her.

He couldn’t afford to fail.

The road was treacherous, but Beomgyu moved swiftly, the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He was used to danger, used to fighting for his life, but today felt different. Every shadow felt like a threat, every noise felt like an omen. He had to keep his wits about him, and yet, the thought of returning to Y/N empty-handed was almost too much to bear.

As Beomgyu rounded a corner, his eyes caught sight of a group of zombies stumbling aimlessly through the street ahead. Their clothes were torn, their bodies decaying, but the hunger in their eyes was unmistakable. His stomach clenched in dread. 

Without hesitation, Beomgyu ducked behind a nearby car, holding his breath as the zombies shuffled past. The tension in his body was unbearable, but he kept himself still, waiting for the group to pass by. His grip tightened on the crowbar, his body poised to strike if any of them ventured too close.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly. Finally, the zombies continued on their path, oblivious to Beomgyu’s presence. He let out a quiet sigh of relief, but there was no time to waste. The lab was still a long way off.

He slipped from his hiding place, moving quickly but quietly, the weight of his mission pushing him forward. 

The cityscape grew more desolate with every step he took. The streets were littered with abandoned cars, some overturned, others left in disarray as if the occupants had fled in haste. The destruction of the city wasn’t just physical—it was a visual representation of the collapse of society, the sudden loss of everything that had once been normal. People had abandoned their homes, their lives, in search of safety, only to find that no place was truly safe anymore.

Beomgyu glanced around, his eyes scanning the surrounding buildings. There was a slight flicker of movement ahead. He froze, holding his breath as he pressed himself against the side of a nearby building. Another zombie. Or perhaps more. He couldn’t tell yet.

His heart pounded in his chest, every muscle tensed, ready to react. The sound of footsteps, slow and unsteady, drew nearer. Beomgyu’s eyes narrowed as he surveyed the area. The buildings on either side of him were empty, their windows shattered or boarded up. The street was an obstacle course of debris, but he couldn’t afford to be caught in the open. 

The zombie shuffled closer, its broken and bloodied body dragging itself across the street. Beomgyu gritted his teeth, his grip tightening on the crowbar. One wrong move, and he would be the next target. 

The moment the zombie was almost within arm’s reach, Beomgyu sprang into action. With a swift motion, he swung the crowbar and slammed it into the side of the zombie’s skull. The creature collapsed instantly, its body crumpling to the ground in a heap of flesh and bone. 

But there was no time to rest. Beomgyu didn’t wait for the body to hit the ground before moving on. He could hear more of them now—more groaning, more shuffling, more approaching footsteps. They were getting closer. He had to move faster. 

The journey felt endless. Every step forward felt like a mile. Beomgyu pushed through the wreckage of the city, his mind fixated on one goal: reaching the lab. The streets became more desolate, more dangerous as the days of chaos stretched into weeks, then months. The abandoned buildings were nothing but hollow shells now, echoes of a time long past.

As he neared the center of the city, Beomgyu found himself in an unfamiliar neighborhood, the streets narrower, the buildings taller. He could see it now: a high-rise building in the distance, its once-pristine surface now cracked and scarred from years of neglect. This had to be it. The lab had to be inside.

But as Beomgyu approached the entrance, he saw something that froze his blood in his veins. A group of zombies stood near the building’s entrance, their numbers greater than he had anticipated. It wasn’t just one or two. There were at least ten. Maybe more. And they were all clustered together, making any attempt to slip past them nearly impossible.

Beomgyu’s eyes darted around the street, looking for an alternative route. But there were no alleys, no side streets. The only option was to face them head-on.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled his jacket tighter around him and moved forward. He could feel the sweat gathering at the back of his neck, the adrenaline already coursing through his veins. His pulse raced, but he didn’t let himself falter. There was no choice. He had to fight.

With a low growl, he stepped into the open, brandishing the crowbar. The zombies turned toward him, their eyes blank and hungry, their groans filling the air. Beomgyu’s heart thundered in his chest as he charged forward, swinging the crowbar with all his strength. One after another, the zombies fell. His body moved on instinct, each blow a desperate attempt to clear his way to the building.

But there were too many. No matter how fast he moved, how hard he swung, they kept coming. And with every zombie he took down, it seemed like two more appeared in its place. Beomgyu’s muscles screamed in protest, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His vision blurred with exhaustion, but he couldn’t stop. Not now.

The end of the fight seemed like it would never come. His crowbar was slick with blood, his arms heavy from the constant strain. But he fought on, knowing that Y/N was depending on him. He had to finish this.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last zombie crumpled to the ground. Beomgyu stood panting, his body covered in sweat and blood, but he had done it. The entrance to the lab was clear.

The interior of the lab was a wreck. The once-sterile environment had been ransacked, the shelves now bare and the equipment broken or missing. But Beomgyu didn’t care about any of that. His eyes were fixed on the lab’s central table, where a collection of vials and syringes lay, scattered amongst piles of notes and research papers. 

His heart skipped a beat as he scanned the table. Among the chaos, he found it: a single vial of what appeared to be an experimental antidote. The label was faded, the text smudged, but it didn’t matter. This was it. 

His hands were trembling as he grabbed the vial, but he didn’t hesitate. He shoved it into his bag and turned to leave, his mind already racing ahead to Y/N. She was waiting for him. He couldn’t afford to waste a second more.

The return journey was a blur. His body was battered, his energy spent, but his mind was laser-focused. Nothing would stop him now. Y/N was waiting. And he would be damned if he let her slip away.

Beomgyu smiled faintly, his eyes full of determination. This wasn’t over. Not yet.

And with the antidote in his possession, they still had a chance.

The sun hung low over the horizon, casting a sickly, orange glow over the ruins of the city. The days and nights had blurred together, a cycle of death and survival, where every second felt like an eternity. Beomgyu was exhausted—his body bruised and battered from the constant battles with the undead. He had been running on sheer willpower, driven by one singular thought: Y/N. 

His heart pounded as he trudged back through the desolate streets, the vial of antidote clenched tightly in his hand. It was a long shot, an act of desperation. But it was all they had. She was running out of time. 

The building was eerily quiet as he pushed the door open, wincing at the creaking sound. The last thing he wanted was to attract any unwanted attention. His eyes scanned the dark interior, and there she was. Y/N. Still lying motionless on the cot. 

His stomach twisted in dread. 

He rushed to her side, his footsteps light but frantic, and knelt beside her. Her skin was colder than before, her breathing shallow, and the sight of her frail, trembling form nearly shattered his resolve. Her once-strong presence was now nothing more than a shadow of herself. 

He wasted no time, grabbing a syringe and filling it up with the antidote. There wasn’t much in the vial, but he made sure that not a single drop was wasted. With a deep breath, he injected the antidote straight into Y/N’s bitten arm. All he could do now was wait and hope, as he stared down at her pale and weak frame.

"Y/N..." he whispered her name, his voice cracking with emotion.

Her eyelids fluttered open, but her eyes were unfocused, glazed over in a way that sent a chill down his spine. 

"Beomgyu…" Her voice was so weak it barely reached his ears, but there was a familiarity to it—a comfort, despite the rawness and the pain behind it. "I don't know how much longer I can hold on."

Beomgyu’s throat tightened at the words. He could see the fear in her eyes, the fear that was mirrored in his own heart. How many times had he seen this happen? How many people had he watched slip away, their bodies ravaged by this curse of an infection? Y/N was different. She wasn’t just anyone. She was everything.

"No." His voice was firm as he leaned closer, brushing a lock of hair away from her forehead. "I won’t let you go. Not like this."

Her hand weakly grasped his, and her fingers trembled against his skin. She tried to sit up, but the effort was too much, and she slumped back, gasping for air.

"I never wanted this for you," she whispered, the words jagged as if every breath was a struggle. "You’ve done so much for me already. You’ve been through so much. If I—"

“Stop,” Beomgyu interrupted, squeezing her hand tighter. “You don’t get to say that. Don’t ever think you’re a burden to me. I promised I’d protect you. And I will keep that promise, no matter what."

Her lips trembled, and she closed her eyes, a faint, sad smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I know you would. But I don’t want you to lose yourself over me. We’re running out of time… the world’s already taken too much."

Tears welled up in Beomgyu’s eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Not now. Not when she needed him to stay strong. He had to. For her.

“No,” he said again, his voice fierce with determination. “I won’t lose you. We still have a chance.”

Y/N’s eyelids fluttered, and her grip on his hand weakened. He could feel the temperature of her skin rise and fall in a sickening pattern. The antidote wasn’t working fast enough. He cursed under his breath, desperation overtaking him. He had to do something. He had to fix this. He had to—

Suddenly, Y/N’s eyes snapped open, her gaze locking onto his with an intensity that sent a shock through his entire body.

“Beomgyu,” she whispered, her voice hoarse but urgent. “The antidote… it might not work. The infection—it's too advanced. It could… it could make things worse. You have to let me go.”

Her words pierced through him like a blade, but he refused to accept them. She couldn’t be serious. He wouldn’t let her be serious.

“No,” he repeated, his voice tight with emotion. “You’re not going anywhere. Not on my watch.”

Y/N looked at him, her eyes searching his face, trying to read him. There was a long, tense pause between them, both of them knowing what had to be done and yet unwilling to face it.

Beomgyu pressed his forehead to hers, his breath shaky as he whispered into the silence that followed. “I’m not losing you. I won’t ever lose you.”

For a moment, Y/N simply lay there, her body still trembling. Then, as if making up her mind, she lifted her hand to his face, her fingertips brushing lightly over his cheek. Her touch was soft, fragile, like a whisper of a dream that threatened to slip away at any moment.

“Beomgyu,” she said again, her voice barely audible now. “If… if we don’t make it through this… promise me you’ll keep fighting. Keep fighting for the people who are still left.”

His heart clenched painfully at her words. She wasn’t giving up, not really. She was asking him to be strong, to carry on, even if she couldn’t. He didn’t know how he would go on without her. But he had to. For her. For both of them.

“I promise,” he said, his voice breaking with the weight of it. “I’ll fight. And I’ll never stop loving you.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and for a moment, the faintest spark of relief seemed to flicker across her face. She closed her eyes, her breath evening out, and Beomgyu held his breath as he waited for the antidote to work its magic.

Minutes passed like hours.

Then, slowly, ever so slowly, her body began to relax. Her hands, which had been trembling so violently, went still in his. Her chest rose and fell in a more rhythmic pattern. The faint sheen of sweat on her skin began to fade. Beomgyu couldn’t believe it. He dared not move, afraid that if he did, the fragile miracle that was unfolding before him would slip away.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to her forehead, his tears finally falling.

“I’m here. Always.”

The sun had risen again, and the world outside remained broken, a ghost of its former self. But inside the small room where Beomgyu sat, holding Y/N’s hand, there was a quiet peace. A tenuous sense of hope that neither of them had dared to dream of until now.

Y/N was awake, though still weak, her breathing steady. The antidote had worked—at least for now. She wasn’t fully recovered, but she was alive. And that was enough. It was everything.

Beomgyu had stayed by her side for hours, watching over her like a hawk. He wasn’t about to let her slip away again. Not after everything they had been through together.

Her eyes fluttered open once more, and she looked at him with a quiet smile on her lips. It wasn’t the radiant, full smile that had once been so familiar to him. But it was something. It was enough.

“You’re still here,” she said softly, her voice hoarse but filled with warmth.

Beomgyu chuckled, his heart light despite the chaos surrounding them. “I’m not going anywhere. You’ll have to kick me out if you want any peace and quiet.”

She laughed weakly, the sound soft and fragile, but it warmed him in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

“I think I can handle your company,” she teased, though the fatigue was evident in her voice. “But I’m serious. Thank you. For everything. You saved my life.”

Beomgyu shook his head, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead. “No. You’re the one who saved me. Every day, you keep me going. Even when everything seems lost.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and she reached up, cupping his face with her palm. “I love you, Beomgyu. Always.”

And in that moment, in the midst of a ruined world, surrounded by death and uncertainty, Beomgyu realized that the promise of love was enough. It was the one thing that would keep them fighting.

“I love you too,” he whispered, his voice filled with quiet reverence.

They sat in silence, holding each other close, finding comfort in the warmth of the other. The world outside may have been broken, but together, they had found a way to survive. 

And that was all that mattered.

As long as they had each other, they would keep fighting.

© all rights reserved ─ @gyu-tori 2025

Rei's Notes ✎: That wraps up my first ever fic!! I never thought I would write my own stories, I was always just a lurker in the shadows, reading fics 24/7, and here I am now, sharing my first fic with you guys. English is also not my first language and this might not immediately be the best fic ever but I still had fun writing it and I hope you guys have the same amount of fun reading it too.

I was very much inspired by raya or @dawngyu so make sure to check them out too. I would love to here your thoughts and opinions after reading this so don't be afraid to comment or reblog!!

Taglist: @dawngyu @frankghgr @yunverie @usuallyunlikelyfox @woncheecks @yogurttea @beomsdoll @lonelylandofan @binluvsu @ahniboom @virtaideen @blossommi @whatblop @hhoneyhan @papichulomacy

[beauttifullife]

Epilogue: The Silence that Comes After the Echo

234 Years Later

The world had truly gone to shit. Global warming. Plagues. Food shortages. Greed. War. It all came together like Thanos’s little infinity stones, and with a snap of the universe’s cruel fingers, chaos reigned. Rio had never been so busy. And she’d been around during the Black Plague—unjustly blamed on her, of course.

There was so much death now.

More than Rio could handle at times, though she'd never admit it. The air was thick with it, the stench of rot and decay almost suffocating. It clung to her, followed her through every town, every city, as she quietly took the souls who still had somewhere to go.

There were fewer of those lately. She used to be able to walk among humans with a sense of detachment, knowing she was there to serve a purpose. Death wasn’t something to mourn; it was a passage, a release. But now? Now the ones who died weren’t going to the beyond.

No, they weren’t deserving of it anymore. Not after the cruelty they had unleashed.

It was a strange thing—how the balance had shifted.

In the past, death was a tragedy, something that cut lives short, something that wasn’t supposed to come so soon. But now? Now Rio saw death as a mercy. It was the rare souls—the ones still clinging to hope, to love—that she found herself walking alongside. The ones who deserved rest. The ones who still carried light in a world that had gone dark.

Rio knelt beside a dying man, her expression cold, unmoved by the grotesque gurgling sound that came from his throat as he choked on his own blood. His body twitched, fingers clawing at the dirt in desperate attempts to hold onto life. His little gang had made the fatal mistake of stealing an ancient tome of death magic, using it with a sadistic glee that even made Rio’s stomach turn. The way they’d torn through towns, leaving nothing but ruin and screams in their wake, had drawn her here. And now, as the life drained from him, she watched without a flicker of emotion.

She had seen it all before. Death was her world. But some deaths—like his—were earned.

His eyes glazed over, and as his soul began to slip from his body, he finally saw her. His face contorted in horror, his final breath catching in his throat.

"Please... take me," he gasped, his voice hoarse and broken, the weight of fear palpable in every word.

It always amazed her, how the worst of the worst always begged in the end. They’d tormented, slaughtered, and destroyed without a second thought, showing no mercy. And yet, when they saw her, they pleaded. They fell to their knees, terrified of the fate they knew awaited them. The irony wasn’t lost on Rio—their victims had begged too. Their screams had echoed in the same way, only to be met with cold indifference.

So, she returned the favor.

Rio didn’t flinch. She simply stood, silent, and turned her back on him.

Behind her, his screams turned from the agonized wail of a dying man to something far darker—a sound that echoed around the room, the scream of a soul trapped, torn from this world but never allowed to leave.

She had no mercy for monsters.

His soul would rot here, forever bound to the misery he had created.

The air in the room was thick with the stench of death, bodies strewn across the floor in dark, crumpled cloaks. These men—no, these monsters—had brought this on themselves. Rio had only come to deliver the consequences.

From across the room, purple magic crackled and hissed, cutting through the air with a savage intensity. The beam hit one of the last remaining men, and his scream reverberated through the hollowed-out room, bouncing off the stone walls and filling the air with its haunting sound. It was the kind of scream that stuck with you, that crawled under your skin and stayed with you long after it stopped.

Rio’s gaze landed on the source of the magic, knowing exactly who it came from.

Agatha stood at the far end of the room, her face twisted in pure, unbridled rage—the same fury she had carried in her youth. But time, as it always did, had marked her, like it had everything else, even witches. Her once dark hair had turned a striking shade of silver, the strands catching the dim light of the room like threads of moonlight. Her face was lined with wrinkles, etched by years of heartache and battles.

Rio didn’t age.

She never had.

It was both a perk and a curse of being what she was—a cosmic being, beyond time, beyond death itself. But she could manipulate bodies, shift her appearance to blend in. As Agatha aged, so did she. Gray streaked through her hair, wrinkles carved themselves into her skin, and the look of frailty clung to her like an old cloak. But it was all a façade. Beneath it, she was still as powerful as ever, capable of breaking someone in half if necessary.

Sometimes, it was even fun—taking those by surprise who thought they were dealing with an innocent old lady, only to find out they were woefully mistaken.

But now, as she watched Agatha—watched the weight of centuries hanging off her like heavy chains—Rio felt an ache deep inside her. Agatha had truly aged. Time had marked her, left its fingerprints in the silver strands of her hair and the lines etched across her face. And yet, there was something about her in this moment, something raw and untouchable, something that transcended the years.

The fire in Agatha’s eyes, the strength that had never waned, even in the face of all they had lost—it was still there, burning just as fiercely as ever. And it made Rio’s heart clench with that same familiar ache of longing she had always felt for her.

Gods, even now, after everything, Agatha was still the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

Rio stepped forward, her eyes glued to Agatha’s labored breaths, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest. There was something unbearable about the sight—the weight in every breath, the weakness in Agatha’s posture that shouldn’t exist in someone like her. This woman, who once set the world on fire with a glance, now seemed too heavy, too tired to stand straight.

A century ago, Rio had felt it. The first soft tug, like a whisper from the universe, telling her that time was running out for Agatha. She’d felt it deep in her bones, the same way she felt Nicky's, and it had nearly broken her. The first time the pull came, it tore through her so violently she nearly brought down their entire house with a storm of magic that hadn’t erupted from her in over 5,000 years.

She never told Agatha. Rio didn’t lie to her, ever—but gods, she had thought about it then. She had considered lying, just once, to protect her from the truth. But Agatha had never asked, and so Rio had kept her silence, grateful for that one small mercy. Agatha had chalked up Rio’s outburst to another tragedy in their broken world, and Rio let her believe it.

That night, Agatha had simply made her soup, sat beside her on the couch, and read aloud from their old, worn copy of Candide. It was a balm to the storm inside Rio, soothing her without words, without questions. It was just what Agatha did.

But time was relentless. The pull on Agatha’s soul had only grown stronger, harder to ignore, louder with each passing year. It gnawed at Rio, a relentless, unyielding force. The truth was, no matter how powerful she was, Rio didn’t have the ability to stop the world from turning. She couldn’t hold back the sunrise, no matter how hard she tried. And every time she felt that pull, she knew—Agatha’s time was running out.

She had even considered finding the Time Stone, diving into the multiverse to seek it out, but she couldn’t risk it. Time was fickle in the other dimensions. A day spent searching could mean centuries lost here. She could come back to a world where Agatha was long gone, and that... that was a fate Rio could never accept.

And now, standing here, the pull on Agatha’s soul was like a scream. Rio felt it in her core, in the way her magic hummed with warning.

Something had shifted.

She stepped forward again, her heart pounding in her chest. Agatha’s face twisted in a wince, her hand pressing hard against her side, trying—futilely—to stop the steady flow of blood pooling beneath her shirt.

“Agatha,” Rio’s voice came out as a broken whisper, her chest tightening painfully. 

Agatha met her gaze, stubborn as always, even in pain.

“It’s nothing,” Agatha muttered through gritted teeth, her jaw clenched tightly as she pressed her hand harder against the wound, trying to stem the bleeding.

But Rio knew better. She could feel the pull, that terrible, familiar sensation gnawing at her insides—the countdown had begun, and this time there was no turning it back. Agatha’s soul was slipping away, and if Rio didn’t stop the bleeding soon, it would be gone for good.

“Let me see,” Rio demanded, her voice soft but trembling with urgency. She stepped closer, her hands shaking as she reached out, helping Agatha sit down. She winced at the sound of Agatha’s sharp intake of breath, the pained whine that escaped her lips as she sank against the crumbling wall behind them.

Rio’s chest tightened painfully, her heart twisting at the sight of the woman she loved suffering like this. She’d patched Agatha up more times than she could count—this wound wasn’t even the worst one she’d seen. But somehow, it hurt more now. It hurt in a way that felt deeper, sharper, like her heart was curling in on itself, folding under the weight of the inevitable.

Rio knelt beside her, carefully pushing Agatha’s blood-soaked hand aside to get a clearer look at the wound. The crimson seeped through her fingers, warm and unrelenting, as she tried to assess the damage. 

“You’re getting slower in your old age, my love,” Rio said, her voice teasing, knowing the jab would bother Agatha just enough to distract her from the pain. Normally, those words would have come easily, a playful banter between them, but now they felt heavier on her tongue.

Agatha’s lips twitched into the ghost of a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She let out a ragged breath, wincing at the sharpness of the pain that spread through her side.

���Don’t… push your luck,” she muttered, her voice weak but defiant.

But Rio saw through it. She always had. She could feel the pull—Agatha’s soul, slipping away, the countdown nearing its end. It terrified her more than any enemy they had faced together. More than the armies, more than the wars, more than death itself.

“Here—let me fix this,” Rio whispered, her voice trembling despite her best effort to keep steady.

She moved forward, green magic already flaring at her fingertips, desperate to heal—mend—anything to stop the inevitable. But before her magic could do its work, hands—wrinkled now but still so familiar—came down gently on hers, stopping her. The feel of them, the way they grasped her, firm but tender, sent a wave of emotion crashing over her.

Agatha.

Rio didn’t want to look down, but she did. She stared at their hands, intertwined over the wound, and felt it before she even had to look into Agatha’s eyes. The release. The quiet, heartbreaking acceptance. Agatha’s soul—ready to let go, ready to move on.

Once, that feeling had been a comfort. It used to bring her peace, a soft melody of closure. But now, coursing through her veins, it was unbearable. Like fire. Like loss. Like her world was being torn apart, and this time she couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“No,” Rio whispered, but her voice came out so weak, so broken, that she hated herself for it.

“Let me fix it, Agatha” she said, her voice more urgent as she pushed against Agatha’s hands, desperate to bring her magic back, to do something—anything.

But Agatha held on tighter, her grip weak but unyielding. She wasn’t going to let Rio save her this time.

“Mi amor,” Agatha whispered, and there was something so soft, so final in her voice that it made Rio flinch. Their fingers, once pressing against the wound, slowly intertwined—holding hands now, not to stop the bleeding, but as if to hold on to something far more fragile: time.

Time that was slipping away.

Rio felt like she was shattering, piece by piece. The weight of it all—Agatha’s life slipping through her fingers, the helplessness that wrapped around her like a vice—was suffocating. She couldn’t bear to look up, couldn’t face the truth that was already written in Agatha’s eyes.

“Please,” Rio whispered, her voice cracking as she tried again, even though she knew it was useless. She pressed her trembling hands to Agatha’s wound, trying to summon her magic once more, feeling it surge beneath her skin, but Agatha’s hand came down gently, stopping her.

“Please, let me fix this,” Rio begged, her voice raw with desperation, trembling as she struggled to hold back the rising tide of panic. The words hung in the air, desperate, pleading, like a prayer she knew would go unanswered.

But there was only silence.

A heavy, unbearable silence, one that pressed down on Rio’s chest like a weight she couldn’t lift. The stillness of it stretched on, filling the space between them like a gaping chasm, an unspoken truth that Rio wasn’t ready to face.

She could hear Agatha’s shallow breaths, each one weaker than the last, the sound growing fainter, like sand slipping through an hourglass. Time was running out, and Rio could feel it, could feel Agatha slipping away, even as she fought to hold her close.

The silence felt like a scream trapped in her throat. It felt like death, creeping closer with every heartbeat.

“Look at me,” Agatha rasped suddenly, her voice faint but commanding, cutting through the silence like a knife.

Rio hesitated, her heart pounding as she blinked back tears and forced herself to meet Agatha’s gaze.

Agatha was slumped against the wall, her body growing weaker by the second, but her eyes—those piercing blue eyes—still sparked with life. The fire in them had always been Rio’s beacon, the thing that pulled her back from the edge, time and time again. But now… that light was fading, and the thought of losing it made Rio’s chest ache like she was being ripped in two.

Agatha shook her head, her voice barely a whisper.

“I’m tired, Rio.”

The words sliced through Rio like a blade, sharp and unrelenting, piercing through every defense she had left. She wanted to fight, to rage, to push against the reality of it, but Agatha’s hand—weak as it was—held hers in place. Agatha’s grip was enough to anchor her, pulling her back to the truth neither of them wanted to face.

“No,” Rio’s voice broke, a sob clawing at her throat, threatening to escape. She felt helpless—completely powerless.

Gods. It felt like Nicky all over again.

That same unbearable pain, that same crushing grief. Only this time, it was worse. This time, Rio had the power to heal it. Agatha still had time.

“Agatha, please,” Rio’s voice was barely audible, her hands shaking against Agatha’s. Her magic flickered, weak and unstable, but Agatha’s purple magic just deflected it.

“I need more time,” she pleaded, the words strangled in her throat. “Just… a little more time.”

Agatha’s lips quirked in that familiar, tired smile, the one that had always undone Rio, and the sight of it now shattered her all over again.

“We’ve had centuries, Rio,” Agatha whispered, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps, her hand slipping weakly from Rio’s grasp. “And I… I’ve loved you every single second of it.”

Rio squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head fiercely, refusing to let go, refusing to accept the finality of those words. She clung to Agatha’s hand, her heart shattering in ways she didn’t think possible. The centuries they’d spent together flashed through her mind—a lifetime of love, laughter, and battles fought side by side. She wasn’t ready to lose her. Not yet. Not ever.

But Agatha, with that familiar stubbornness, gently unraveled their intertwined fingers, and then, Rio felt her hands on her face, cradling her with a tenderness that made Rio’s breath catch in her throat. Even now, Agatha was the one offering comfort, and it broke her all over again.

"Look at me, please," Agatha murmured, her voice soft but insistent, knowing exactly what that one word—please—would do.

Even after 580 years, Agatha had never quite mastered manners. She used them only when absolutely necessary, when she wanted something desperately enough to break her usual defiance. And this… this was something she wanted from Rio, something final, something that made Rio’s heart splinter and fracture with each passing second.

Reluctantly, Rio opened her eyes, her vision blurred by the tears she had fought so hard to hold back. They fell, one after another, and Agatha’s thumbs moved gently across her cheeks, wiping them away as if they were nothing more than droplets of rain. That simple tenderness, the softness of her touch, undid Rio completely.

Agatha pulled Rio forward and kissed her, so soft—so tender—that it broke something deep inside Rio. The kiss felt like a farewell, so final, so filled with love and acceptance that Rio couldn’t hold back the choked sob that escaped her, the sound muffled against Agatha’s lips.

When Agatha pulled back, she brought their foreheads together, resting against Rio with a familiarity that felt like home and goodbye all at once.

Rio’s breath hitched, tears spilling freely now, and Agatha just stayed there, her fingers curling weakly into Rio’s hair, offering the last of her strength. She was slipping away, and Rio knew it, could feel it. The countdown, the pull, the inevitable—all of it crashing down in this moment.

Agatha’s voice, barely a whisper, was the last thing Rio heard before the world shifted.

“Take me on an adventure, mi amor.”

The sun rose on the horizon, and Agatha was gone.

Agatha Vidal died on October 19th, 2258.

She was 584 years old.

She died wiping out an entire coven of witches who had been harming innocents. The world had gone to shit, and people no longer deserved to walk with death. But Agatha Vidal walked with her wife out of the world hand in hand.

She lived a long life, full of adventures, but her favorite one was her last.

[crushedsweets]

can you tell us more about what Ben's life was like before his death?? (family, friends, and so on)(and what happened to them after his death bc oh sweet sweet angst)

ben was my gateway into creepypasta and i am living for your content of him (and your cp content in general) 😭🙏🏻

i havent thought TOO deeply about this actually!! so im gonna just spout what i HAVE thought about and see what i can build while im here!

as per usual, everything is in my AU; Creeped! info in my pinned if curious. CW in this post for murder, suicide, violence, the usual

ok. from the get-go i knew ben was gonna be an only child living in the suburbs. his parents would be pretty average folks, maybe his dad is a plumber and his mom is a secretary at a dentists office . . . he's a little spoiled, considering he's an only child. doesnt do chores, always getting electronics for holidays, most of his meals are made for him. i imagine his grandparents spoil him even more, as he's their only grandkid - something about him screams no cousins either... HES GOT NOBODYYY

i specifically imagine him living in a neighborhood like this. but with tons of toys hanging out on the lawn from when he was young and his parents are too lazy/busy to toss them. all rotting under the sun cuz hes stuck inside on his games

i imagine i has a small circle of friends at school... the type to go ride bikes after school to the corner store, buy hella soda and snacks, then ride home to go play video games.

he's def a bit dorky/geeky and doesnt have a lot of friends, just hangs around at school trading pokemon cards and failing his math tests and eating cheetos.

i think ben wouldve been 'just' missing for a while, but i think that his parents would have lost their minds. organized massive search parties, gone door to door with photos of ben pleading with everyone.

its fucked up but. im thinking. bens mom knocks on the door of the man who killed ben. the man is weird, a recluse, visibly uncomfortable the second he sees her face - she's been all over the news begging for ben to come home, after all. and theres a stench, and everything about this house is just Off and dirty and gross, and the entry way has a pile of boots and slippers and sandals just sitting around - all belonging to the man - but she notices a pair of awfully familiar sneakers.

i think it would be upsetting if she saw the shoes that she bought for ben, began to stammer, the man noticed, and he goes to attack her. she screams and freaks out and barely manages to get away, the man is freaking out and gets in his truck and goes to drive off, huge police-chase ensues, and the cops raid his house. i think the man would shoot himself before the cops could get him, something that would destroy bens family to no end.

while going through his house for evidence, theyd find ben's rotting corpse in the tub - dressed up in the link gear - alongside the majoras mask catridge. and theyd begin to find other remains around the house, all belonging to missing blonde teens around the county/state.

i think its obvious the sort of turmoil and strain this would have on his family(parents+grandparents), but it would be really tough on his friends too. theyre all freshmen in highschool and there would be a ton of rumors, distasteful jokes, etc at Ben's expense - partially from his own friends not knowing how to cope, partially from strangers.

and i dont think ben would be able to witness any of this grief as its happening. OBVIOUSLY he's dead, but his spirit is trapped in the same majoras mask cartridge that ends up getting stuck in evidence.

i think he'd eventually go back to watch all the interviews, news recordings, etc that he can find. and i think he'd try to pretend it doesnt bug him. he's so beyond shitty with his emotions, even as a human - super quick to make a joke out of everything, laugh it all off, in fear of being a 'pussy' or being vulnerable or getting made fun of. cuz he was the type to make fun of other boys for the same stuff. so yk. but the outlet he'd use for his emotions would be hurting people. tormenting, 'trolling', cyberbullying, haunting people all around the nation and driving them to murder, suicide, other things. generally being Evil and thinking its all just a joke. he cant take anything serious

i dont think he'd talk about his family to the creeps. and looking at him, nobody has a damn clue who he is or why he's like That. but he'd accidentally let his last name slip in a random convo, someone would be nosy enough to google it, and the news would quickly spread around the creeps and proxies who know him. not that theyd try and address it or something, but it would 100% leave everyone a little bit like. Oh. That's really sad. esp cuz they all thought he was just an annoying little asshole

[icarustypicalfall]

Reminiscence

König x reader

masterlist

summary: How is it that a fleeting moment, a mere jiffy between reality and fantasy, can grasp our souls and leave us yearning or empathizing for the rest of our limited existence?

warnings: sfw, usual cod violence, wounds, guns, angst?, comfort, ending...?

word count: 2,3k

notes: my autocorrecter turned every könig with the usual o so if you see one pretend you didn't.. also this fic is so random and i have no clue what happened

“my peace has always depended on all the ashes in my wake”

Colonel König was a man who took pride in everything he did. He lived a long life, serving alongside his brother Horangi in both successful and challenging missions. Little was known about his past, as he guarded it as if it were a sin. However, deep down, one could sense that the colonel carried a burden, a mysterious weight from the past that only he could comprehend.

Once again, he awoke in his office, drenched in cold sweat with a single tear streaming down his face, evidence of the nightmare that had just haunted his brief slumber. He longed to forget, to erase the memories that had plagued him for years. But no matter how much time passed, moving on seemed an impossible task.

König vividly recalled the scene, replaying it countless times in his mind. There were moments when he secretly desired to descend into madness and never wake up, to relive the painful dream over and over until the colours of his memory faded.

His ultimate fear was not death itself, for he had already died when he left, but rather the possibility of forgetting the sound of your beloved voice or the sensation of tender flesh.

December 12 #### [03:24 am]

Location: [classified]

Operation: [classified]

The pain was unbearable, and he desperately wished for anything to end it, even if it meant shutting his shallow breath forever.

As a child, König dreamt of becoming a sniper. He couldn't explain why, but he yearned for that role deeply, idolizing the revered warriors portrayed in the movies he watched every Friday night.

But as he grew older, his dream transformed into a painful reality. He never anticipated that this simple wish would leave him isolated in the wilderness, with no one to share his throe.

At the age of twenty-two, freshly graduated from military training with the rank of private, König quickly ascended the ranks. His towering physique and exceptional abilities certainly played a part, but it was his unwavering discipline and outstanding performance that truly caught the attention of his superiors. He obediently followed every order, earning the respect of sergeants and majors alike.

Yet König did not mind this, for he harboured the aspiration of becoming a leader one day. Perhaps then, his childhood dream would manifest into reality.

He found himself in this particular location, alongside fellow soldiers, embarking on a mission to test their abilities. It was meant to be a swift operation, in and out, dealing with a drug trafficking affair. At least, that's what he believed.

But reality proved to be harsh, mercilessly slapping him across the face. The frontline was a treacherous arena; once you stepped onto it, there was no guarantee of stepping back.

Every soldier eventually came to realize this as they reloaded their guns, with each bullet either ending a life or starting one. It was a painful cycle, where lives were lost and shattered, yet there seemed to be no alternative for humanity to coexist other than beheading their enemies.

König groaned, searching for his comrades who awaited a sign amidst the unforgiving terrain. The house they were about to breach stood eerily silent, a stark contrast to the constant movement of the criminals they pursued. Suddenly, something rolled out from the darkness, making it impossible to discern its nature.

The silence was shattered by screams and cries of terror.

The gas bomb had served as a distraction. König crawled, feeling the burning air and painful lacerations surrounding him. Though he was away from the epicentre, the effects were still noticeable. Slowly, he eliminated the immediate threat and proceeded to infiltrate the house in search of any remaining criminals. It was a poor abode, with an old sofa in the living room and an assortment of cheap DVDs and guns. As he turned, he heard a movement behind him.

König shut his eyes, feeling the searing sensation spreading through his body. The stab wound wasn't deep, but it caused excruciating pain. He winced as he swiftly eliminated the assailant before collapsing to the ground, frantically searching for anything that could staunch the bleeding in his stomach.

"No, not a tourniquet," he thought, realizing the wound needed to be packed with something to stop the bleeding and alleviate the dizziness in his head. Slowly, he stumbled out of the house and into the surrounding woods, struggling to remember where his teammates were. The cowards had abandoned him, assuming he was dead.

Leaning against a tree, König regretted tearing his shirt, as the cold breeze and dampness of the forest began to affect his body temperature. Shivering, he fought to retain the little warmth he had left as he reached for his radio. How could his comrades, the ones he had done everything to keep safe, leave him behind as though he were nothing more than an insignificant pebble in the road?

His knees grew heavy, and he collapsed onto the ground. The radio slipped from his grasp, just a few steps away, yet reaching for it felt like an insurmountable task. With each passing second, König felt his strength wane, and he slowly began to follow the beckoning light. A gentle beam enveloped him as he caught sight of his mother's tender face. She smiled, extending her hand towards him, just like she used to do in the old days when she would walk him to kindergarten and affectionately call him her "Schnecke."

König closed his eyes, surrendering to the cold embrace under the solitary tree.

13th December #### [11:15 am]

"No, Lou, don't wake him up. Go out, you silly dog."

König opened his eyes, feeling disoriented. He couldn't remember where he was, so he rubbed his temples and attempted to sit up. Instantly, he regretted it, as a sharp pain shot through his side.

"Oh no no no, sit back down, you're still injured!"

König almost flinched at the sweet voice and turned to see you. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought he was in heaven.

You smiled at him, a sweet grin, while patting a dog who was wagging its tail happily. König stared at you, mouth agape and in shock. You were magnificent, if not more.

He hadn't expected anyone to be living here. The cabin itself was a sight to behold, with its wooden floors and walls reminiscent of his grandpa's old cabin. He smiled as he noticed the crackling fire, realizing that he wasn't sleeping on a dusty bed with torn blankets. Everything in this small place exuded comfort.

He struggled to sit up but winced in pain before murmuring with a low, husky voice, "A... are you an angel?"

You laughed dismissively, shaking your head with warmth and amusement. He wished he could stay by your side and make you laugh forever.

Taking a breath, you handed him a mug of warm tea. "No, I am not an angel, but you can call me that if you wish," you said, settling in a wooden chair beside him.

König held the cup tightly, taking a slow sip of the tea, just the way he liked it—burning with no sugar. He hummed with satisfaction, noticing that he was shirtless, with large bandages wrapped around his abs and stomach.

You quickly explained, your cheeks blushing slightly. "Lou found you when we were out at dawn. My dad and I brought you here, treated your wounds, and your clothes are drying over there..." You pointed to the fire, where he saw his combat boots and uniform drying.

König smiled, not knowing what to say. He simply stared at you, yearning for you to continue speaking. He would give you anything you desired, even carve his chest and offer you his heart if you wished.

He muttered, now feeling more at ease with you so close. "I am sorry, Engel, for the... burden."

You frowned, and he wished he could bury himself alive at the sight of your small, annoyed expression. "There's no need to apologise," you reassured him.

He appreciated your kindness and refrained from saying more. He leaned back, closing his eyes and enjoying the gentle sounds of the crackling fire and the rain pouring outside.

König was young and had never thought much about the future, but after seeing you, he vowed to move heaven and earth for your sake. He would willingly descend into the depths of hell with a grin if it meant seeing you smile.

König woke up later from his short nap, his stomach partially growling from the enticing aroma of soup cooking. He smiled apologetically, looking at your tired form as you approached him with a shy smile.

"I need to... um... change your bandages," you said, blushing slightly. He rejoiced at your adorable and sweet blush, sitting up and exposing his stomach for you to treat.

Your gentle touch on his skin made him shiver, trying his best to ignore your proximity and the alluring scent of your perfume as you tended to his wound, though it was almost impossible.

Finally, he looked away, wincing slightly as you accidentally scratched his wound. Your small apology and the comforting hand that cupped his knee were enough to make him feel lightheaded. You had already claimed his heart, it might as well be yours completely.

16th December #### [23:35]

In just three days, König had fallen head over heels with you. He believed that this fleeting enchantment was a reward for his heroic deeds. He had the pleasure of getting to know your father, basking in your delightful presence, and listening to the soothing melody of your voice as you read or sang to him.

As the days went by, König discovered some of your secrets —your deep passion for baking and your dream of opening a bakery. Your voice, sweet as honey, captivated him completely. Often, he found himself daydreaming as you enthusiastically shared your plans for the future. Secretly, he longed to be a part of that future, to spend countless nights gazing into your eyes, like a sky full of shimmering stars. He yearned to be by your side, to blend with you into a single entity and dive into the depths of an ocean where no one else could reach.

However, he knew that these moments were fleeting, for he had to leave. With a heavy heart and mournful eyes, he glanced around the cabin, wishing he could express his deep gratitude. He wanted nothing more than to whisk you away from this world, for you, a sweet and kind woman, deserved to be treated like a cherished princess from an old fairytale. His life was filled with terror, sins, and agony, while yours appeared to be nothing but pure bliss.

But he knew it wasn't right. You belonged here, and he was merely a simple disturbance in your perfect, sweet dream.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked at you with a sad smile. Pulling you close, he breathed in the scent of your perfume, a blend of sweet vanilla and cinnamon, hoping to etch it into his memory forever. Reluctantly, he pulled away and gazed at you, his voice trembling as he spoke.

"Take care of yourself, Engel... I will come back."

Desiring a bond, something to remind you of him, he knew he couldn't be with you. At least, he wanted something of his to remain close to your heart. Before you could protest, he slipped a bracelet made of red beads onto your wrist, urging you to accept it despite your slight frown.

"It's a gift. Take care of it until I see you again."

Your lips quivered, realizing that this was the end, a potential tale cut short before it even began. There was nothing you could do to change it. Some things just weren't meant to be, and deep down, you already knew that. But Konig was no ordinary man you had met by chance. His eyes concealed a painful past, a gentle soul, and a heart overflowing with love. Finally, you mustered the words, accepting the gift.

"Thank you... I promise I'll take good care of it."

After that night, König never saw you again.

Months later, he returned, only to find the area abandoned, with no trace of his Engel. He lived in denial, refusing to face the reality. He knew you were somewhere in this world, and the mere thought of being close to you but not close enough tore him apart. He searched for you tirelessly, interrogating every individual who might have known of your whereabouts, but to no avail.

König was strong, enduring everything - the grueling training in freezing nights, bullets piercing his flesh, and the heart-wrenching loss of his precious comrades. Yet, losing you had left his heart in ruins. Only God knows how much he despised starting over, burying the past and pretending it never existed.

What have you done? Where have you hidden his heart? Will you give it back?

He sighed, his voice barely a whisper carried away by the cold breeze. Years later, he continued the ritual he had adopted after losing you. Every night, he would gaze at the old scars you had left behind, his fingers tracing the marked flesh, finding solace in reminiscing about your sweet gestures when you tended his wounds.

König snapped back to reality, feeling a reassuring pat on his shoulder from Horangi, his steadfast companion. The bond between them was stronger than that of brothers, providing unwavering support in the face of any adversity. They stepped outside together, deciding to stop at a café for some coffee while keeping an eye out for their next task.

As they approached the café, König's heart tightened at the sight of its name, "Engel." He pushed open the door, a weight of anticipation settling upon him. The familiar scent engulfed him as he made his way to the counter. A woman greeted him with a warm smile, whispering softly,

"Just a moment, and I'll be right with you!"

Her voice and smile, etched in his memory for a lifetime, made his mind wander. And then, he noticed the familiar red bracelet adorning her wrist. It couldn't be possible. He muttered, his voice barely audible, as if he was once again a wounded soldier in the woods, "Engel ?"

[zal-cryptid]

Does a happy ending for these toys require that they turn back into humans?

Let's ask the Fortune Teller. She's a toyfolk from the Funlands region of Toyland.

"Names are the oldest kind of magic, and they hold tremendous power in the faerie realm. I shall print out nine cards, each tied to the names of someone on this island. They will reveal what futures they have in store.

…I think this is the Shining Torch. This old card has been battered and beaten. Whatever meaning it once had has been lost. But as a light, perhaps it will guide others out of darkness.

The Free Man. One who is neither slave or serf. A fool no longer scared of leaving his box?

The Dolorous. Pain and sorrow. I know it hurts, but we must learn to move forward.

The Hero(ine) of God. God is their strength. The messenger, harbinger, annunciator. It delivers the Good News. It may seem weak, but it holds an unconventional strength.

The Humbled. One who is small. One who has been knocked down a peg and learned a lesson. It can also mean “young” - perhaps it pertains to a certain hatchling?

The Fair One. Just like the Fair Folk, it is morally dubious. But they do believe one good turn deserves another. Is it villainous to follow one's heart?

The Gazelle. A gracious creature. A prey animal. One who is familiar with fear and death. It is an animal of goodwill and grace. Hm, I sense their transformation is not quite done.

The Honey. Joy, sweetness, pleasure, to have all their needs taken care of. Wasn't this what they always wanted?

The Sea. Bitter and tumultuous. A tempest to be calmed. It seems that an extra card was erroneously printed alongside it - The Victory card. A triumph? A defeat of an enemy? A winning of a game? But for whom?"

[deconstructthesoup]

Some of the lore for the D&D Slay The Princess AU:

In the beginning, there were only two gods---The Long Quiet, the god of constants, emotion, stability, connections, and comfort, and The Shifting Mound, the goddess of change, transformation, beginnings, endings, and time. Together, they were able to spin stories into worlds, shaping entire universes to exist side by side in the Material Plane... but every one of these universes was eventually fated to end, for you cannot have a story that lasts forever.

A man, whose name has been lost to time, grew bitter at this cycle, believing death to be a curse. As his universe began to take its steps towards its ending, in his desperation, he managed to achieve godhood, becoming The Narrator---the crow god of knowledge, fate, and tricksters. He tore The Long Quiet and The Shifting Mound apart, banishing The Shifting Mound to languish underground while The Long Quiet was left to mourn in the stars. Legends say that The Narrator intended to trick The Long Quiet into killing his love, but he failed in the end. Death still exists---you can never fully rid the world of death---but as long as change and constants are separated, no other worlds can be made, meaning that the world we find ourselves in now is entirely alone, and bound to the cruel laws of fate.

In the wake of this, new gods emerged to help guide the mortals through their confusion. The first was The Apotheosis, the goddess of justice, retribution, power, and light, who watched over the afterlife of those who were good in life. The second was The Fury, the goddess of anger, war, slaughter, and destruction, who watched over the afterlife of those who were wicked in life. The third was The Wild, the goddess of shadows, secrets, mystery, and sorrow, who dwelled deep in the tangled woods of the Feywild. The fourth was The Thorn, the goddess of love, redemption, discovery, nature, and growth, who lived in the Feywild alongside her counterpart. And the fifth was The Grey, the dual-natured goddess who guided souls to the afterlife---wearing white and burning with hope if you were good in the end, and wearing black and drowning in despair if you were wicked.

There are four other beings who some consider gods and some consider monsters, depending on who you are and how much terror you possess in your heart. The Eye of the Needle is the queen of the dragons, and while she has no use for mortals and only cares for gold, you will earn her respect and undying aid if you can defeat her in a fight. The Wraith was once human, but has long since left that behind in favor of being a lich, and she will rob you of your will and turn you into her puppet if you dare cross her or get in her way. The Mother of Clarity is the queen of the vampires, and though she and her children are feared and hunted everywhere you go, she will listen to you if you are willing to plead. And The Den is the mother of all fearsome beasts that stalk in the shadows, and she obeys no order other than the one of the hunt.

That's all I got for now, but I do have some ideas for the Voices, so... :)

[theoldoor]

Some Talia + Post-talia content with these bumsOUUOUHOUHUH IM FUCKKIN GSIISSIICKCK

During Talia, Fenrir had lost the ability to read considering his worsening eyesight and lack of interaction with literary medias. He used to teach the kids at the orphanages and people of his own clan, but now he’s with the majority of those who can’t read. (HEADCANON PART) It’s something Fenrir was very insecure about. He grew up lacking education and had to teach himself a lot of things through the library of the estate he was held in and he felt behind his peers for that. He speaks when he needs to around those he’s not close by and when he does he makes sure to check the thing he was about to say in his head multiple times so that he wouldn’t say the “wrong thing.” When someone pointed out an information, whether if they’re right or wrong, Fenrir’s first instinct is to believe them as he doesn’t think he’s smart enough to confirm whatever he was saying, even if it was common sense.

Aventurine came around, he was also one to teach himself a lot of things too considering his background. But Aventurine had his eyesight and he still had papers and stuff from the things he brought along for the Talia mission - he could still read. (HEADCANON PART) The reason why Fenrir knew how to read a few parts at the end of the quest, despite claiming to be illiterate the whole thing maybe was because Aventurine taught him to read along the way - accommodating his impaired vision too.

HERMIA’S CONCEPT WAAA I LOVE HERRRR she’s so >:^ she’s like my niece but i do have to focus on building her character more. she’s more fleshed out in combat and abilities more than loreeee. after im done with her ill move onto stella and bronte lol. she’s tuxedo cat themed, hence her hair and the faux cat ears + hetero chromia.

Fenrir is popular with the kids of Avidity for his gentleness, patience and domestic nature. It was something he brought alongside him from his upbringing. He was born into servitude and a “domesticated dog will always be haunted by the call of the wild”. This is also something that he does genuinely, not to use them for any gain for himself - he believes that kids should be taught kindness before brutality. To him, traces of humanity is above all, considering where he was raised.

Caring for them also gain him quite a reputation, no one really bothers to handle the kids in Talia - As long as they live kinda ideal they got going on there. So Fenrir took the “burden” of the children and let the clan go do their things with no worries.

Though Fenrir feared death twice as others, that also means he valued life twice as others too. He went too far, he has lived this long, it’d be a burden not to see another day and see all your hard work go to waste because you wanted a permanent solution to a temporary phase of your life. He believes that kids should be living by that too. Idk man he’s a caring older brother because he sees himself in these kids and he did not want them to go through whatever he did.

Especially with Hermia, he loves her most and same goes with her. Hermia is the only one who was willing to stick by Fenrir’s side even when he kicked her away (metaphorically) and they’re awfully dependent on one another. Hermia provides Fenrir with the accommodation he needed for his impaired vision and comfort, in return Fenrir brought her closer to the clan and became her older brother (found family way) - he took care of her in every part.

Fenrir was a brutal and cruel man, that doesn’t mean he was not a man.

He has humanity, and that’s why he was discarded to the wasteland of Talia. I think Talia’s concept of “recycling” everything works well - especially for characters like Aventurine and Fenrir. “To be reborn is to live again.”

The two are cruel because they’re survivors. They’re cruel so they can see another day not because they wanted to. They were taught and force to be cruel in this current life. But just imagine, if everything reverted, if they get to be recycled and experience the side of life that runs rather the side that crawls. But to live again also means you gotta go through all the struggles again,

I wrote for the quest for Aventurine to go through everything in Sigonia again as the price for having a family again LOL what a nice bet you made with the devil there aventurine (he made a bet and he “lost” for the first time) and for Fenrir he was in the recycling process during talia and post talia is when he finished recycling ehheuehe.

ooouuuhh he wants that cookie so fuckin bad EUEHUEHUAAAUGGGH jealous fenrir hello

but yk, i dont want aventurine to be the punching bag. he struggled a bit when he came back to pier point and has to act like everything was normal - even given the purple heart equivalent for whatever he contributed during Talia but he didn’t want that at all. Imagine getting honored and praised for losing your loved ones, that shit mustv sucked bro

so fenrir came back, it works well with his dog motif on how he keeps crawling back no matter what. he will always bring back the ball you told him to fetch. loyal as a mutt - “desperate dogs bite harder than wild ones” type shit idk man but when they’re back it’s just “ok” again. Aventurine had a little closer connection and so does Fenrir- now they’re up to some silly shits in penacony or whatnot lol

just like

they went through a lot, but that doesnt strip away their humanity. human has been humans and will always be.

[suhjihanma]

☩ 𝕻𝖊𝖈𝖚𝖑𝖎𝖆𝖗 𝕹𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖆𝖗 ☩

☩ Kink: Blood play ☩ Word Count: 1,149 words ☩ Pairing: Sukuna / Female!Reader ☩ Content Warning: Monster formation Sukuna, mentions of blood, slight mentions of possible death and dying, mind break, bodily fluids, human degradation, bruising, scaring, torturing. ☩ Author's Note: My first debut within kinktober. This is an ongoing compilation of stories written once a day. As I continue to post stories for kinktober, please note that I will ban minors who interact with my series or other stories apart from this project. Also, kink shaming is not tolerated within my fics. If the kinks that I write are not for you, please do not come with hostility in my inbox. Just simply ignore them. And, for those who are just morbidly curious about dark kinks or just love the smutty, dark content, I appreciate you guys for liking and reblogging. Reblogging helps me out tremendously as a fairly new writer for the anime fandom. Other than that, I hope you all will enjoy the daily content. I will be placing my fics on AO3 soon. I created this first story on Sunday morning.

The faint shrills of your voice were now engulfed with the soaked cloth that was around your lips. You now believe being spared was a foreign concept. How someone could leave you in a position so vulnerable that it made you fall to your knees was baffling. Humorous at best. 

Who wouldn't say that lady luck strives for you to be pleading with tears coming down your face?

A stranger to the dark-lit room that reeked with the odor of bodily fluids, your body sat aimlessly on the floor, with teardrops and mucous secretion mixed in with several droplets of blood now running along with a stream that flows steadily to your arms. You have been taught modesty, yet showing yourself nude among a man who would not give a damn about your condition seemed hopeless. Frankly, you lusted for the attention of wanting to be studied at beyond covered clothing. The eyes of a man who gazes upon a woman like yourself, to “undress” you with his eyes or some of the cliched sorts. A man like Sukuna would definitely be the one who would give you the favor. 

Especially for a woman who is decorating among bruises, welts, alongside scars.

Reality now became intertwined with hallucinations as you desperately reached for whoever’s hand. A hand that will possibly guide you among distorted illusions, or a hand that will hinder your senses towards insanity. Both options are similar causes, yet these causes are the factors for your sudden blood loss. The eyelids that were once filled with life suddenly became too heavy to bear. Exhaustion was beginning to weigh on you as you desperately called out the name that harbored fear yet of whorish passion. The amount of blood loss that you endured now was hindering your mental state. You wondered how you were still presenting yourself to this man above you, a man that only looked at you and smiled cruelly. Sukuna continued to gaze his eyes around your body, a body that was reaching its limits and now succumbs to more than torture. 

“You look like you had enough.” Sukuna jeered, his fingers slowly hovering over the pool of blood that formed over your thighs. Before, his hands caressed the top, savoring the warm skin before all became lost. His fingertips reach for the pool and the shade becomes decorated with his tips. Shades of blood were slowly beginning to turn dark as he brought one of the coated fingers to his lips, savoring the metallic taste that coated his tongue. Tiresome as it was, reacting would gain nothing from your situation. You were helpless in Sukuna’s domain. Escaping would be more than less futile in your stance. All your tired eyes could do was watch, and the body that was slowly succumbing to shock was close to giving up. His laughter and excitement made you rage inside your living hell, yet this living hell was real proof. Then again, his giddiness excites something inside you. Playing with your essence in his fingertips was truly something a man like him can toy with. Humans are descriptive as slaves, peasants, low-lives, everything at the bottom. Sukuna reminding you of your place as you bleed your life essence for him seemed appealing. A lifeless slave that you were, you couldn’t help but to whimper at his mockery.

“Please.” You whined, thighs squirming in the cold blood that sat across your legs. Exhaustion was soon to form over as you lowered your head. Sukuna looked over your falsified bow from the exhaustion and his eyes perked up, now dilated from your heightened erotic stance. 

Please, what?” He questions you. The soft pants that came from your cloth steadily continue as he looks at you with piqued interest. As he continues to look over your greatly bruised body, he smiles to himself before licking one of the open wounds that became exposed on your shoulder blade. Your face begins to tighten as Sukuna continues to entrance his tongue on the opened entrance. Pain engulfed your body as you helplessly whined out in agony before succumbing again to exhaustion. A laughter rolled out from Sukuna as he continued to shoot every weakened nerve in your body, desperately wanting you to fall further into his hellish embrace. Beyond overcoming mental break, your body could only take so much as you fell into a deep slumber, one where a voice that lingered nothing but sultriness ringer through your ears. 

“Develop a false intimacy with you? Fuck you in this pitiful pool of blood of yours? Surely that will bond us together, but it seems like you are already there.”

[angstyandromanticwriting]

Harley Quinn X FemWerewolf!Reader Angsty, Cute and Fluffy Prompt with a somewhat cliffhanger ending

• Occurs after the events of the third film (The Suicide Squad - 2021) + there’ll be a part two at some point

!TW: Violence, jealousy, self-doubt, anxiety, separation anxiety, blood/presence of blood, weapon(s), swearing, threat(s), violent intentions, mention of nightmares/nightmares in general, murder/mention of murder, mention of a previous near death experience, self put-down(s), mention of being bullied, bullying, implied suffering from depression, implied swearing (‘curse’), insult(s), implied poor treatment by family, implied being close to death/wounded, mention of previously being abused by an ex, injury detail, implied nudity, mild blackmail, mention of an ambush, being assaulted, mention of hickeys, unconsciousness!

After a little while of having to stay in that overcrowded base for the whole day, Bloodsport had reluctantly managed to get Waller to consider allowing you and Harley more time with Cane and Bruce back at the new Birds of Prey base, and somehow she had found herself in good spirits enough to accept his suggestion, so you both found yourselves - the next day - waking up in the spare room that Renee and Canary had organised for you both. You’d woken up before her, or just managed to, and would frown when you found you could still pick up the man who she’d previously been with’s scent, tainting her sweet one, so you would try and quietly inch even closer to her without waking her up, wincing when she’d moved a little, but you would express relief upon noticing that she’d not fully woken up, despite her previous movement. You would then bury your face into her shoulder, your fangs unfolding whilst you did subconsciously; the wolf within you was dying to come out again, and change her, but you tried to fight it back to the best of your ability, whimpering quietly whilst you did, and were instead leaving little nibble marks on her neck, and shoulder, rather than digging your fangs into her; a temporary marking, because that’s all you believed you could do. Despite the fact that she’d told you before that she wanted you to change her, eventually, you found you couldn’t, not wanting her to have to live like you’d had to live; in fear of constantly being hunted, having to experience forceful and painful transformations on full moon nights, having to struggle to control yourself whenever in moments of overwhelming outbursts of emotion, and having to constantly have been on the run a few times. Also, it meant that she’d have to spend more time stuck on earth with you, and you believed she’d be better off remaining human for that reason, alongside the others ones. Once you’d finished, and had left several little marks along her neck and left shoulder, you forced yourself out of bed to make breakfast and coffee for her, Cane, and yourself, whilst they both began to stir awake.

🜚

Harley had managed to get herself awake before Cane, but wouldn’t get out of bed until she had, upon finding the little marks you’d left on her; they’d been paining her a little, ever since she’d woken up, and she soon found that a couple of them were bleeding a little bit, prompting her to wonder why you’d left them, and had evidently done so hurriedly. As soon as she entered the room, you faltered; you could still pick up the man’s scent tainting her’s, though you’d left the marks on her neck and shoulder, and it was painful for you to have to remember the night you thought you’d lost her; that she’d forgotten about you, and stopped howling because she hadn’t responded. However, once she’d gotten closer to you, and had her arms wrapped around your waist, you could finally pick up that your scent was mixing with her’s again, and it made you feel a little better. “Good morning, Alpha,” she cooed, and you would smile lovingly over at her, before noticing that she was wearing your shirt, and you would smirk, whilst your eyes locked with her stunning icy blue ones in the best way possible.

“Good morning, beautiful,” you returned, “is that my shirt?”

She winced, acting as if she hadn’t realised that she’d accidentally put your’s on, instead of one of her own shirts or t-shirts. “Shit, sorry - I didn’t realise,” she answered, and you would giggle, before shaking your head.

“Don’t apologise,” you replied gently, before turning around to face her, and lifting your right hand up to her left cheek, prompting her to melt into your touch subconsciously, “it looks good on you; a lot better than it looks on me.”

“I doubt that,” she remarked, and you then found yourself subconsciously glancing down at the marks on her neck which had evidently been bleeding, and you would falter, a pained expression on your face; you didn’t realise you’d been so reckless, whilst you had been creating the marks, “hey - what’s wrong, Alpha?”

“I hurt you,” you whispered shakily, your voice barely audible whilst you did, but she still hadn’t heard what you’d mustered, regardless, as Cane had now re-entered the room after briefly visiting the toilet to brush her teeth, “I’m so sorry, Quinzels, I - I didn’t realise-..”

She would then guess that you were talking about the marks, and would quickly shake her head, but you would move away before she could ease you into a hug, wanting to try and provide comfort to you, and reassure you that the marks weren’t bothering her, and hadn’t been paining her. “What’s going on-?” Cane questioned, suspicious, and Harley would wince, before looking over at her, after she’d been trying to look at the marks again, herself, whilst you were stood unnaturally still in the corner of the room, a pained expression on your face; you couldn’t believe you’d hurt her like you evidently had, and hated yourself for it.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” she answered, as if everything were okay, before she walked up to the nearest mirror to check the marks again, wondering if they’d gotten worse, as you’d reacted as if they had, but they looked almost the same as they did, before, when she’d first noticed them, except the blood which had been previously escaping a couple of them was now dried up.

You couldn’t help, but watch whilst she did, your eyes dimmer than they usually were; the tears within them weren’t even making them glisten like they sometimes did, whenever you found yourself crying for whatever reason. “What are you looking at-?” Cane inquired, and you would briefly look between both her, and Harley, before you stared down at your feet, allowing the smallest of the currently invading tears to escape, and slide slowly down your cheeks.

“Just a spider bite I got a little while ago,” Harley answered, before smiling back over at Cane, and you. “Don’t worry about it - Y/n’s just upset because she feels bad for not stopping it from happening-”

“Harley,” Cane interrupted, “I know when you’re lying to me - what happened?” She would then appear shocked, and disheartened, whilst she looked over at you, before looking back at Harley again. “Did - Did Y/n hurt you?” She questioned, and you would falter again, whilst your heart began to ache even more excruciatingly than it had been, before.

“Of course not,” she replied, “she’d never hurt me-”

“Harley,” you mustered, your voice close to a whisper again, and she would fall quiet, before glancing over at you, a pained expression on her face whilst she did; she hated seeing you upset like you evidently were, now, “there’s.. there’s no point lying; I’m so sorry, I’m a monster, I just-.. I couldn’t stand smelling - him - on you, a-and I hate myself for it.. If - If you could, m-maybe - find it within you to forgive me-”

“Don’t,” Cane hissed, before she reached for the baseball bat Harley had given her a little while ago, and snatched it up off of the table so she could throw it in your direction, but you would manage to quickly dive out of the way before it could hit you, and it - instead - smashed into one of the windows behind you.

“Cassie!” Harley shouted, before grabbing her and gingerly shoving her away from you; she was worried, and didn’t want either one of you to get hurt. “What the hell is wrong with you?” She demanded, before looking over her shoulder at you to make sure that you were okay; you appeared to be unharmed, now sitting up with a guilty, as well as hurt look on your face, though you found you couldn’t blame Cane for her previous action, believing yourself to be a monster. “Go to your room!” She instructed, and Cane would roll her eyes, before dragging herself out of the room, and Harley would then rush over to you, but before she could crouch down beside you, and hold you close to her, you would move away, a pained expression on your face whilst you did; you were terrified that you might end up hurting her again, and couldn’t let that happen; she meant more to you than life itself, and you would never be able to forgive yourself if you hurt her even more than you previously had. She would appear disheartened by your moving away from her, but understood why you possibly might have; she knew you too well, now, and wished you’d stop viewing yourself as the monster you believed yourself to be, and always had, ever since you’d found out about your true nature, a few years ago now. “Y/n-”

“What the hell happened in here?” Renee questioned, upon rushing into the room; she’d heard the commotion. “Seriously? I thought you had the dog under control, Harley-”

“I’m not a dog,” you uttered, “and it was just an accident.”

“A - A minor misunderstanding,” Harley added for you, “Cassie thought that Y/n had hurt me, but - she didn’t, and she then threw her baseball bat at her, but Y/n managed to dodge it, and it went through the window, instead.”

“Jesus Christ,” Renee remarked under her breath, “well - I don’t care how, but we need to get this mess cleared before Waller and Bloodsport drag you both back home, otherwise you might not be allowed back, if they see the place like this after you’ve both been here; you’d be in deep shit, I imagine, if they found out.”

“Well they won’t find out,” Harley chimed, as if nothing had happened, “this place’ll be as clean as a whistle by the time they get here, won’t it, Alpha?”

You nodded, forcing a smile up at both her and Renee, before you looked away again, worried that you might break down in front of them both any second now. “Something did happen between you both, didn’t it?” Renee guessed, and both you and Harley would falter, before glancing over at her again. “Y’know what - I’m not even gonna bite,” she decided, “it’s your business.” You all would then force yourselves to clean up the room to the best of your ability, just in time for Waller and Bloodsport’s arrival to take you back to the main camp the others were currently residing within.

🜚

Whilst you and Harley were both walking back toward her and your makeshift room, upon your arrival back into the main camp, you would unfortunately come across Falcon, who would smirk when he noticed you both approaching, before he got up, and slowly walked toward you. “I swear to god - one annoying word out of you, and I’m knocking you on your ass,” Harley warned, whilst subconsciously intertwining the fingers of her right hand with the now trembling fingers of your left, “so you better take some time to think about what you’re gonna do next, wise guy.”

“You think I’m wise? Thank you-”

You would find yourself growling quietly over at him, but before you could do anything, Harley would hold you back, her arms around your waist whilst she did, and you would try not to struggle, afraid of hurting her again, and losing control of yourself whilst you were within her hold; the wolf within you was scratching at the surface, evidently desperate to escape and tear Falcon to shreds. “Did I, or did I not just say that I’d knock you out if you didn’t leave us alone?” She hissed, before encouraging you to continue walking alongside her, which you did, when you felt able, subconsciously sticking to her side; you liked to always be in physical contact with her whenever you could be, as you hated being away from her, and wanted to be close to her at all times so you could protect her, and revel in her presence; you felt safe, and whole whenever you were with her, as if all the bad things that had happened to you in the past hadn’t actually happened, or weren’t bothering you anymore than they had been, before you’d both first met, and you imprinted on her, resulting in your past becoming less painful for you as you had been only focussed on making her happy and devoting your life to her ever since that day.

Harley then, once you’d both gotten into your and her bedroom, eased you closer to her, so she could carefully turn you around, and connect her lips to your’s delicately, prompting you to instantly melt into the kiss subconsciously. The kiss soon began to deepen, but you would falter as soon as you were reminded of what had happened earlier, and of how you’d evidently hurt her, seeing as the marks you’d left had evidently begun to bleed, after you’d administered them to her whilst she had been sleeping peacefully beside you. “Quinzels,” you murmured, your voice close to a shaky whisper, whilst you connected your forehead to her’s affectionately, “we can’t; I hurt you-”

“You didn’t hurt me,” she contradicted gently, before lifting her right hand up to your cheek, and you would melt into her touch whilst she did, “a-and - and I know why you gave me the marks, Y/n; I get it, a-and I’m so sorry; I’ve been trying to be rid of his scent for a while now, a-and I didn’t realise it was still on me, but it’ll be gone soon, I promise; I love you, Alpha, only you, a-and that will never change; he meant nothing to me - nobody could ever mean as much to me as you do.”

“I love you, too,” you returned, before allowing yourself to brush your lips against her’s again lovingly, “just - p-promise me-.. promise me that we’ll never have to be apart again - it was painful, b-being away from you; it always is.. even if.. even if we’re simply just not in the same room together; I can’t live without you.”

“We’ll never have to be apart again, I promise,” she cooed, “I can’t live without you, either - every night, ever since I lost you again, I couldn’t go to sleep without having at least one nightmare or two about that day you’d gone over the cliff, a-and-.. I spent - even more of those nights crying, rather than sleeping, especially after-.. after I couldn’t hear you howling anymore, b-but.. that was my fault, if I’d just responded the day before, after I’d killed him, I would have known that you were alive, and hadn’t forgotten about me-”

“No, Harley,” you whined, between the small kisses you both were exchanging, “it wasn’t your fault; I was just-.. being stupid, like I always am - I should have known t-that - that you were distracted, after you killed him; I shouldn’t have just given up and walked away like I did.. o-or - I could have at least just - continued howling for you; I shouldn’t have made you feel like I’d forgotten about you, because I never could; I love you too much, a-and I always will, no matter what.”

“It wasn’t either of our faults,” she claimed, “all that matters is that you’re here now, and always will be, right?”

You would smirk, before nodding, and picking her up off of the ground, prompting her to giggle whilst she clung to your shoulders. “Always,” you reasserted, before kissing her passionately, and delicately, whilst you carried her over to your and her bed.

🜸🜚🜸

Whenever Waller was in good spirits - a very rare occasion - she allowed you and Harley to sometimes take Cane to the school she was attending, alongside a couple members of the Birds of Prey, of course; she’d never let you both go alone, for fear that you’d try and run away, or go on a trouble spree - a double trouble spree, you liked to call it, whenever you and Harley set about messing around and creating havoc in your college lessons together. “Remember - if anyone gets on your nerves, pick up the closest chair, and hit them over the head with it,” Harley reminded her, and Renee would add quietly for Cane to not do what Harley had just advised her to do, “have a good day!”

Cane would then throw her arms around Harley, before awkwardly looking over at you; she still wasn’t sure if she should trust you, or not, after what had happened a short while ago with the marks you’d given Harley. “Thanks,” Cane replied, before dragging herself away, though she didn’t really want to, as she’d been finding herself getting bullied often recently.

“She hates me,” you murmured, and Harley would glance over at you, a pained expression on her face, before she lovingly intertwined the fingers of her right hand with the fingers of your left to try and provide comfort to you.

“She doesn’t hate you,” she contradicted, “she just needs - time, I guess, after-..”

“After I hurt you,” you uttered through gritted teeth; you still hated yourself for what had previously happened, and Harley would quickly shake her head, before turning to face you, a hurt look on her face; she hated seeing you like this; like you could break down with any passing second; tears had begun to invade your vision, blurring it, but you were trying, and failing, to fight them back.

“You didn’t hurt me,” she claimed, “I couldn’t even feel them, not enough for me to deem them as being painful. Besides..” She then grinned over at you, before wrapping her arms around your waist, so she could ease you closer to her. “I like it when you mark me, Alpha,” she remarked, and you would be surprised, evidently not expecting her to have liked what you had done, “I want people to know that I’m your’s - but - I also want people to know that you are mine, so-.. I was wondering if - maybe - you’d let me mark you, too.”

You would smirk back at her subconsciously, whilst your eyes began to glint. “Of course I will,” you replied, “I’d love for you to mark me; you know I would.”

“Good,” she chimed, “then I will.” She then glanced back judgementally at Renee and Canary, who were currently watching you both, until she looked back at them, and they quickly looked away, prompting her to return her attention to you, before she leaned forward so she could add - in your left ear - a whisper. “Later,” she promised, before surprising you by gently nibbling at the shell of your ear, prompting you to giggle, as well as seem to purr a little, though you weren’t anything like a cat. She then found herself giggling alongside you; she clearly had found your reaction adorable.

“Leave me alone!” You heard a familiar voice cry, and would immediately turn your head in the direction of it to find that someone had shoved Cane down to the ground, angering you instantly as you began to growl quietly, your irises flickering dangerously between a bold orange and their normal colour, whilst your fangs subconsciously unfolded, and your body began to heat up like a furnace; the wolf within you was scratching at the surface to escape, and maul the children who were bullying her.

“Y/n, no!” Canary whisper-shouted, before throwing her arms around you to try and hold you back, whilst Harley looked on at the group in shock; she couldn’t believe they were daring to bully her like they were, with the probably now confirmed rumours going around that you and Harley had adopted her.

You would strain your ears to try and hear more of their very much one-sided confirmation, whilst struggling a little in Canary’s hold; you were desperate to help Cane, as you were sure that you’d never forgive yourself if you let her get hurt, too, and wanted to prove to her that she could trust you, always, like Harley could always trust you, too. “Why were we even asking her to do our homework for us, anyway?” The second girl inquired, whilst sneering down at Cane. “She knows nothing,” she continued, before lowering herself down a little, whilst her hands were resting upon her knees, “isn’t that right? You’re adopted, so you probably aren’t even being helped with your own homework, anyway - not that two freaky convicts could teach anyone anything-”

You couldn’t take it anymore as you broke free of Canary’s hold, gingerly shoving her away, before you rushed over to the group, Harley and the others hot on your heels; they were afraid of what you might do; what might happen to you if you did hurt anyone, specifically, in terms of Harley; she was terrified of losing you again, and knew that Waller wouldn’t even hesitate to put a bullet in your skull if you ever did decide to hurt anyone again, or to go against her very specific instructions to not cause a scene, or draw too much attention to yourselves whilst you were over at the Birds of Prey base, or escorting Cane to school like you had previously been doing, until this moment. “Hey-!” You hissed over at them, and they would each be startled by your sudden interruption. “Leave her alone!” You demanded, but Harley would manage to hold you back, before you could get any closer to the bullies, no matter how much she wanted you to teach them a lesson for messing with Cane; she couldn’t let you get taken away from her again. “Go inside, Cassie,” you commanded gently, and Cane would reluctantly rush off, though she wanted to stay with the group, feeling safer with them, and a little safer with you now, too, “I swear if I ever see you lay a finger on her again-”

“Y/n,” Harley cooed, and you would relax instantly, upon hearing her voice again, a warm shiver running down your spine whilst you did, and everything that had changed returned to the way it had been, before, “it’s okay, now - Cassie’s fine, and these little brats will never hurt her again, I’m sure they won’t - look at me.” You would glance over at her, and couldn’t help, but smile whilst you did; her presence always made you feel warm, fuzzy, and light, somehow, and you found yourself wondering how you’d survived the years you’d spent in a dark place away from her.

Harley then smiled lovingly back at you, until you were both distracted by Renee speaking up after the bell had rung out from within the building Cane had run into a brief moment ago. “Haven’t you both got somewhere to be, now?” She questioned the two girls, who would hesitantly rush off to their classes, and once they were out of sight, Renee turned to face you both. “We gotta get back, before Waller and Bloodsport get there, and wonder why we’re taking so long,” she stated, and you both would begrudgingly agree, before following Renee and Canary back to the base, just in time; the cars to escort you both back were arriving, just as you were all walking up the drive alongside them.

Before you could get into the black car in the middle, Canary caught your left arm, prompting you to look over your left shoulder at her. “I expect, when you come back tomorrow with Harley, that things will be better between you and Cassie,” she expressed, “or, at least, I’m hoping they will; it was nice of you, to stand up for her like you did, and I’m sure she appreciates the gesture.”

“I hope so,” you replied, “but - I wouldn’t be surprised, all the same, if she still hates me; I should never have left those marks-”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Canary interjected, “she just - needs more time to get to know you, like she has with Harley. Trust me, tomorrow is gonna be the start of something new; I can feel it.”

You would scoff, before looking away from her. “Thanks,” you uttered, “but I only ever trust my instincts when they’re linked to Harley; I can’t - feel any of you, yet, n-not even Cassie, but-.. I guess - I’ll just have to wait and see. See you tomorrow.” You then got into the car beside Harley, before closing the door, and smiling lovingly over at her; she appeared to be hopeful, too, that you and Cane would get along more, but would simply smile warmly back at you, before she shuffled closer to you and rested her head on your right shoulder; she didn’t want to upset you by pressuring you about the situation even further. “Get some sleep,” you cooed, and Harley would nod, whilst her eyes locked with your’s in the best way possible, prompting her’s to glint, and your heart to skip a beat, overwhelming you like it usually did, but you would try and hide it from her, embarrassed, “we’ve still got a long day ahead of us.” She would then groan, and nod gravely, upon remembering that you both, and the others would probably have another training session to return to. “It’ll be over soon, don’t worry,” you continued gently, “as soon as we deal with that asshole politician, and it’s army, and then we’ll be able to find someplace to stay with Cassie, and Bruce; somewhere we won’t have to worry about anyone separating us again, and guess what we’ll do after that-?”

She would appear intrigued, before lifting an eyebrow up at you, whilst she tried to think. “W-What will we do?” She inquired, and you would falter; you thought she’d answer immediately, and wondered if she’d forgotten about what you’d promised her a few times now, already. You then found yourself thinking about how you’d overheard her and the man talking, before you’d run away, and about how she’d been considering the fact that she liked how Harley Luna sounded, prompting you to falter, a pained expression on your face whilst you did. She would then appear worried about you, upon noticing that you seemed upset about something. “Y/n?” She cooed, and you would wince, before managing a soft smile down at her, whilst you tried to think of something else to say; you were doubting that she’d want to marry you, now, after everything, and so were worried about how she would react if you brought it up to her. “Are you okay, Alpha? You went all sad on me all of a sudden,” she mused, and you would nod quickly, before affectionately connecting your forehead to her’s, and she would smile back at you, prompting your heart to begin to race alongside her’s, “what are we gonna do, after we find a good place to stay?”

“We’ll-..” You murmured, before wincing again, but this time you managed to hide it from her; you didn’t want to upset her. “I’ll change you,” you stated, and she would be surprised; she didn’t think you’d ever change your mind, or appear so eager to, after you’d been so against the idea, before, “I’ve been - putting it off for too long, now, I know, and I’m sorry-”

Harley then silenced you by delicately connecting her lips to your’s, and you would subconsciously melt into the kiss, your eyelids fluttering shut whilst you did. Once it was over, you found yourself wearing a dazed expression on your face, prompting her to smirk up at you, amused by your reaction, as well as revelling in how it was only her who could make you feel this way. “I love you so much,” she expressed, and would then lift her right up to your left cheek, prompting you to lean into her touch, whilst you found yourself getting lost in her stunning icy blue eyes again, “w-what - what will we do, after that? After you change me?” She was evidently angling for you to bring up a specific part of your and her plan, but you would doubt - again - that there was any possibility of her wanting to marry you, so you thought maybe she was just curious about what else you’d all do together.

“I’m not sure yet,” you answered, whilst staring down at your hands, and she would appear disappointed by your answer, wondering if it meant you didn’t want to get married to her anymore, “I guess we’ll just - h-have to wait and see.” She would then nod gravely, before resting her head on your right shoulder again, and letting her eyes close, whilst you found yourself fighting back tears beside her silently for the remainder of the journey.

🜸🜚🜸

Like you’d been thinking that they would, things did seem to improve between you and Cane, the next day, just not as much as you’d been hoping they would. Whilst you and Harley were cuddled up together in bed, you would be startled to wake up to something quite soft bumping you on the left side of your head. You would protectively hold Harley close to you, whilst you looked in the direction that it had come from, only to find that Cane was stood by the door, and that she was holding what looked like a nerf gun in her hands, prompting you to ease up, and grin over at her, whilst your eyes began to glint. “Did you seriously just shoot me in the head with a nerf bullet?” You questioned, and Cane would shrug, before tilting her head partially.

“I might have,” she answered timidly, before lowering the makeshift gun a little, “I just wanted to wake you up to say thank you, I guess, for standing up for me yesterday.” Harley then found herself beginning to stir beside you, but once she could hear that you both were talking, she would try and act as if she were still asleep in your arms, whilst listening and smiling softly. “A-Anyway, I gotta go to school, so-”

“School-?” Harley spoke up, surprising you both; you’d thought that she had gone back to sleep, but evidently hadn’t as she was suddenly so awake, and energetic, sitting up beside you, whilst appearing startled, as if she’d forgotten something.

“It’s Monday,” Cane reminded you both, and you would wince, whilst Harley couldn’t help, but curse beside you quietly, and you both would instantly get out of bed, “did you guys seriously forget, already? Jeez, that’s what my ex-family used to do, too-”

“Hey,” Harley whined, “we’re nothing like them, we were just - well.. we didn’t get much sleep last night-”

“Gross,” Cane remarked, and you would wince, before looking away; you’d both not done what she had been assuming you had; you had just been struggling because you’d had a nightmare, and found you couldn’t stop thinking about how she had been with that man, after you’d both been separated again. “Anyway, I’ll meet you both down there, whenever you decide to get ready,” she added, before rushing out of the room, and you would glance over at Harley, a pained expression on your face, before dragging yourself into the bathroom to get ready, whilst she wondered what your look had meant; she hated seeing you upset, and wanted to do all she could to try and make you happy again, so she vowed that she would, starting from the moment you had left the bathroom after you’d finished getting ready alongside her.

🜚

Harley would be surprised to find, that night, you crying quietly outside, whilst the others were sleeping; you’d snuck away after you’d heard her snoring quietly beside you, as you didn’t want to disturb her, and knew that she’d not be woken up if you did, like she had been the previous night. “Y/n,” she cooed, and you would falter upon hearing her voice, “what’s wrong? W-Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying,” you claimed, and she would scoff, before sitting on the step beside you, whilst you tried to wipe all of your tears away, embarrassed; you hated being caught crying, especially by Harley, as you were worried about her perceiving you to be weak, when you were meant to be strong for her; you didn’t want her to think that you couldn’t protect her, being her mate, and were terrified that you might end up losing her, “Alphas don’t cry, e-especially not in front of their mates..”

She would realise, and shake her head in reply; she didn’t want you to think that you couldn’t cry in front of her, like you were evidently trying not to, right now. “Look,” she began gently, before intertwining the fingers of her right hand with the trembling fingers of your left, “just because you think that you’re not allowed to cry, t-that doesn’t mean you have to be alone, when you do - and it doesn’t matter if it’s me you cry in front of, because it will never change how I see you; I will always love you, Y/n, and I’m always gonna be here for you, t-through both the bad times, and the good, always.”

You would falter again, thinking about how you’d always believed that you both would get married, and it pained you to think about how this might never be the case anymore, after she had considered so closely marrying someone else. “For better, for worse,” you murmured, and Harley’s eyes would begin to glint, whilst a smile began to tug at the corners of her lips subconsciously; she was hoping that you were still considering marrying her, like you’d promised you would many times, before. “You would both have.. have said that to each other,” you mused, prompting her to grow confused, and resulting in a puzzled expression finding it’s way onto her face, “and then-.. you would have become Harley Luna.”

She would realise, and begin to feel guilty all over again; you were evidently still hung up over what had happened, before you’d both been reunited. “N-No, I wouldn’t have-”

“Why wouldn’t you? I thought you liked him, a-and the name,” you contradicted, and she would feel overwhelmed all of a sudden, not sure of what she could say to make things better, so she found herself stammering a lot more whilst she tried to think of how she could rectify the situation, “just tell me you forgot about me..”

“If I did, I would be lying, and I don’t wanna lie to you, Alpha,” she replied, a hurt look on her face whilst she did, “I love you, a-and - it wasn’t just the fact that he was planning on killing more kids that made me pick up that gun, it was also because-.. despite everything that had happened between us, before - I felt that you were still alive - in that moment - and so I-.. I thought it would be better if I killed him for that reason, too, because I wanted to find you, Y/n; you’ve never actually betrayed or abandoned me for no good reason, before, a-and even if you had - I was still hung up on you, and our promise - so-..” She then stood up after you had a brief moment ago, prompting you to hesitantly turn around, whilst your eyes began to glisten, and it would pain her to see that they were; she hated seeing you upset. “There’s only one person I wanna marry, Y/n,” she continued, her voice close to a whisper, “a-and-.. it’s you, always you, and I would have brought the ring out here with me, but I didn’t think t-that-.. that I would be proposing like I am, now - just tell me it’s romantic, at least.”

“It’s more than romantic enough, for me,” you reassured her, whilst wrapping your arms around her waist, and she would smile lovingly over at you, before wrapping her arms around you, too, “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” she returned, “n-now - would you make me the happiest woman in the world, b-by becoming my wife? I swear I’ll bring the ring out later-”

You would then lean forward to connect your lips to her’s delicately, and she would melt into the kiss subconsciously alongside you. “Of course I will-!” You chimed, before kissing her lovingly again, and she would hold you even closer to her, but you would welcome her action, managing to control yourself a lot better even when your fangs had unfolded. You then picked her up off of the ground, prompting her to giggle, whilst she clung to your shoulders, and connected her forehead to your’s affectionately. “We should continue celebrating inside,” you stated, appearing flustered whilst you did, prompting her to smirk up at you; she evidently knew what you were hinting at, “it - it’s-.. getting cold, a-and - I want my princess to be warm.” She would instantly be flustered by you referring to her as your ‘princess’, and soon found herself blushing, whilst she tried to hide it from you, prompting you to giggle breathlessly alongside her. “What do you say?” You inquired, only wanting to do whatever she wanted to do.

“I’d love to,” she answered, and you would express relief, whilst your eyes seemed to light up a little alongside her’s. You then briefly connected your lips to her’s one more time, before you carried her back inside, and up to your and her room.

🜸🜚🜸

“Seriously-?” Cane remarked, upon finding you both playing a card game on the Kitchen table in the morning; sometimes you both just found it fun to do, especially when you were equally as competitive as one another. “You’re both so old and boring,” she added, “can’t we go and do something else?”

“How does playing cards make us old and boring?” Harley questioned, and Cane would think about it for a moment.

“Because it just does,” she answered, “c’mon, I’m bored.”

“I’ll just take her out,” Huntress spoke up, “since you guys are clearly too busy to even bother.”

You would grimace over at her, and Harley would wince when she noticed, before beginning to pack up the cards. “Why are you such a raging bitch all the time?” You hissed back at her, and she would scowl back at you, before getting up, and forcing herself from the room.

“Y/n,” Harley cooed, and you would instantly relax like you usually did whenever you heard her voice, but would begin to feel guilty - instead - when you noticed the look on Cane’s face.

“How could you say that? You know what she had to go through before,” she retorted, and you would falter, a pained expression on your face, after Cane had rushed off to go and find Huntress and make sure that she was okay.

You would look over at Harley, who appeared to be feeling guilty, too, for not telling you about what had happened to Huntress when she was only a little girl. “What did she have to go through, before?” You inquired, and she would hesitate, before deciding to tell you, though she’d not been sure if she should, last year, whilst you had both been fighting the Omegas alongside the Birds of Prey.

“I guess it just - makes her mad; the fact that you remind her a little of herself; you both had it rough, before, and I guess I did a bit, too,” she mused, after she’d told you everything about the Bertenelli Massacre, “and she doesn’t like to think about how you didn’t end up killing your father after all that stuff he did to you, aside from the fact that she does kinda have some anger issues, sometimes, but not all the time.”

“I can’t believe I never noticed that before,” you mused, feeling awful for how you’d reacted to her remark, earlier, “do you think she hates me, now?”

“I wouldn’t say she hates you,” Harley answered gently, whilst trying to smile reassuringly over at you, and holding both of your hands in her’s to provide as much comfort to you as she possibly could; she didn’t want you to be upset again, “she’s just - getting used to you.”

“I thought she already had, last year,” you admitted, “I saved her life, remember? And Renee’s.”

“I know,” she replied, “but - maybe - maybe it’s just still too early, for her; I think she just needs more time, and then things will be better than they ever were, I promise - I could also try and talk to her for you, if you want me to?”

“No, it’s fine,” you reassured, before shuffling closer to her timidly so you could wrap your arms around her, and she would instantly return the hug, cradling you close to her, “b-but - thank you, Quinzels; I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, either,” she returned, “oh, and don’t worry about Cassie - she’ll come around, just tell her that you didn’t know about Huntress’ family, and - didn’t mean to say what you said the way she thought you did.” You would nod gravely, evidently nervous about messing up, but you would try to hide that fact from her, for fear of worrying, or upsetting her. “Wanna go and find them with me-?” She inquired, and you would think about it for a moment, but before you could answer her, you heard howling nearby, and faltered, guessing that there were Omegas in the area.

Luckily, Harley hadn’t heard them; you knew you’d have to go out there and hold them off to the best of your ability with the pack you’d arrived with, except they seemed skeptical of you after they’d found out that you were working alongside humans, and had even imprinted on one. “I-.. I have to go and do something first,” you stated, and she would appear surprised; she hadn’t been expecting that response from you, and would immediately begin to wonder what you were planning to do, “the others - they’ll be hungry, and aren’t particularly used to human company; I should help them hunt for a little while.”

“O-Oh, okay,” she replied, and you would frown when you noticed that she appeared disheartened to hear that you’d have to go out for a little while, “I didn’t even know that they had followed us here.”

“They always do,” you explained, “I guess I - am their Alpha, after all, though they think I’m - strange, now.” Harley couldn’t help, but giggle, and shake her head a little whilst she did, prompting you to smile lovingly over at her subconsciously; you evidently thought that her reaction was adorable. “I’ll be back soon, I promise,” you claimed, though you knew that there was a chance that anything could go wrong, but would try not to think about it; you were terrified of being torn away from her again, and returning to her with several scratches and bruises, prompting her to appear shocked, as well as hurt, and worried to find that you had been wounded, so you knew you’d have to be as careful as you possibly could, and would have to wear somewhat baggy clothing if you did end up getting hurt, to hide whatever wounds you might return with, “I love you, Sparkle.”

“I love you too, Nugget,” she returned, before hesitantly releasing you, and allowing you to get up, so you could drag yourself toward the front door of the new Birds of Prey base, “a-and be careful out there - promise me you will.”

“I’ll be careful, I promise - there’s no way I’m not returning to you in one piece,” you cooed, and she would smile to the best of her ability back at you, though she was worried, and found herself even beginning to doubt that you would; something she found herself hating herself for, until you had managed to return to her just about in one piece, “s-see you soon - possibly half-an-hour-ish?”

“It better be half-an-hour,” she agreed, and you would grin feebly, before nodding, and rushing out to the waterfall, where your pack were currently resting together.

|

After things had gone wrong, like you had been hoping they wouldn’t, you found yourself wondering if you might actually die; the Omegas had actually managed to ambush you and the pack, and had evidently been planning this attack, all along; they hadn’t just been passing through, like you thought they had been. Like you usually did during your lowest moments, whilst you were trying to drag yourself away from the pack without them noticing, you found yourself thinking about how they would all, including Harley, Cane, and the Birds of Prey, be better off without you slowing them down - especially Harley, and it didn’t help you to think about how she had been considering actually marrying the man she had briefly been with whilst you were gone, and supposedly dead. Nor did it help to remember everything that had happened, before that: the fight you and Harley had had, before you’d gone over the cliff in an attempt to save her life; the day she’d found out that you’d actually been the one to kill her ex, Max, shocking her, and resulting in her believing you to be the monster you also thought yourself to be, and the day you’d disappeared for a couple of weeks whilst Max had been abusing her, after finding out about what you were, but you could have still helped her, though you were worried about what might happen if she found out about you being a werewolf, before, and you hated yourself for letting him hurt her the way he had been, before she’d managed to break up with him. You would be startled by the sudden ringing of your phone, still laying beneath the willow tree beside your clothes; you’d left them there, before changing, and tracking the area with your pack, which you could hear were now beginning to panic, after you’d muted the bonds between you and each of them, except for Harley, but she still remained to be unaware of what had happened a moment ago; she would soon find out, beginning to panic you even more than you had been, before; you didn’t want her to go out looking for you, and to get herself hurt, too, or to upset her by having her find you in the state that you were currently in, but at the same time, you knew she’d be equally suspicious if you didn’t answer the phone, as you could see that it was her calling you, so you would hesitantly give in, and change back painfully, before accepting the call feebly, and holding your phone up to your right ear with your now shaky and blood-stained right hand. “Y/n-? A-Are you - Are you coming back soon-?” Harley inquired, and you would frown, feeling guilty all over again, before you subconsciously shook your head, whilst your tears began to slowly run down your cheeks. “I miss you so much,” she expressed, and you would feel even worse, wishing, now, that you’d not decided to try and fight the Omegas off, “a-and it’s been longer than half an hour now; you promised me you wouldn’t be any longer.”

“I’m sorry, Quinzels, but,” you murmured, whilst wincing, and leaning heavily against the trunk of the tree behind you, “I’m gonna be a little-.. a little longer.. S-Something came up, a-and-”

“What?” She interrupted, before subconsciously rising from the sofa she had been perched upon. “What happened? Y/n, are you okay? Where are you?” She questioned, and you would hesitate, before deciding you shouldn’t tell her, not wanting her to come looking for you, and you most certainly didn’t want her to find you in the state that you were currently in.

“I’m okay,” you lied, unconvincingly; your voice had managed to crack, and a whimper followed; the pain was gradually becoming more and more excruciating with every passing minute, “just - don’t worry about me - everyone’s fine, a-and - and I’ll see you soon.” You then quickly hung up, and threw your phone away from you, before you whined softly, and let the back of your head rest on the trunk of the tree; you were waiting for death to finally envelope you, so Harley wouldn’t have to be held back, or burdened by you anymore.

🜚

“Y/n!” A familiar voice cried, and your eyelids would slowly open, though they were heavy, and left your eyes appearing half-lidded, as well as dark. “Oh thank god,” the figure whispered shakily, after you’d opened your eyes, and you would squint to try and clear your vision, and once it had cleared just enough, you found your heart beginning to race; Harley was leaning over you, her cheeks tear-stained, and eyes glistening, “s-say something, please.”

You would manage a weak smile up at her, whilst beginning to splutter up and choke on your own blood again, until she carefully lifted you up a little, and cradled you close to her. “I-..” You managed, your voice barely audible, and a strained sob would manage to escape her lips; she was terrified that she might still lose you, if Renee and Huntress didn’t return soon with the medical equipment needed to patch up your scratches and gaping wound on your right side. “I must be in Heaven,” you mustered, and she would tilt her head partially, before shaking it, and lifting her left hand up to your right cheek, so she could use her thumb to delicately brush away the small tears which were managing to escape your eyes.

“Not - Not yet, Alpha,” she replied, her voice trembling whilst she did, and she would then lower her head a little so she could connect her forehead to your’s affectionately, “you aren’t leaving me like this - when you do get to go to Heaven, it’ll be with me, okay? You’re not leaving me again; I won’t let you. We belong together, and we’re meant to do everything together; go everywhere together, and that’s what we’re going to do.” She then looked as if she’d remembered something, and would smile lovingly down at you to the best of her ability, before taking out your ring, and offering it to you. “Now that you’re - in your human form again, I was thinking that you might wanna wear it,” she stated, and you would smile back at her faintly, before nodding, and offering her your left hand so she could slip the ring back onto your finger gently. “Why didn’t you tell me about the Omegas? We could have gone with you-”

“You would have gotten hurt-”

“We would have been fine,” she contradicted, “and you wouldn’t be on the verge of-..” She would falter, and her eyes widened a little, before she looked around, desperate for Renee and Huntress to reappear with the kit.

“Quinzels,” you murmured, and she would glance back down at you, a pained expression on her face, prompting your heart to sink, “d-don’t-.. Even if I.. Even if I do die-”

“Shut up,” she interjected, “you’re not dying; I won’t let you die, n-not without me. If you die, I die-”

“Nobody’s dying today,” another familiar voice sounded out, and you both looked over to find Huntress and Renee rushing toward you, “we’ve got the kit.”

Harley expressed relief, and you would smile lovingly up at her. “You were right,” you mused, “we will die together, a-and go to heaven together, as long as - when the time comes, you still want to.”

“Of course I will,” she responded, “there will never be a time when I don’t want to go to heaven by your side - or wherever we do end up together; I love you so much, a-and that’ll never change, I promise.”

“I love you, too,” you returned, whilst Renee began to treat your wounds, and Harley provided as much comfort to you as she possibly could whilst Renee was doing everything she had to do to try and keep you alive, “and I always will, n-no matter what..” Once Renee had finished treating you, Harley then carefully carried you back to the base, a blanket wrapped around you whilst she did, as you had been naked when the group had found you in the state that you had been in, and you soon found yourself falling asleep in her arms, whilst feeling safe and as if nothing could ever hurt you again, as long as you were in her arms like you were, now.

🜚

“What were you thinking? You have the dumbest Alpha instincts I’ve ever heard of,” Cane ranted at you; she’d, too, been surprisingly shocked and worried after hearing about what had happened to you, “people should be calling you goofy rather than Alpha-”

“Oi,” Harley interjected playfully, whilst she was holding you close to her, her arms around your waist protectively; she was worried that something might try and hurt you again after what had happened to you earlier, “only I’m allowed to tease her about that. Anyway-”

“Would you quit eating my fucking food?” Huntress interrupted, whilst she stormed into your and Harley’s bedroom, and she would wince; she’d evidently unintentionally taken whatever it was that had previously belonged to her.

“W-Wait - was that your burrito in the fridge?” She inquired, and Huntress would scowl over at her; it evidently had been her’s. “Why didn’t you say so? I - I just-.. I don’t know, Y/n was hungry, so-”

“Just - don’t do it again,” she uttered, “I’m gonna have to start writing my names on things now, I guess.”

“Good idea,” Harley chimed, “I should start doing that, too; that was smart-”

“Big whoop,” you murmured, whilst hiding your face from them, “that’s - that’s an easy thing to come up with; I could come up with something like that so much faster.”

Harley would then smirk down at you, whilst Huntress rolled her eyes, before leaving the room. “Aww, is somebody jealous?” She inquired, and you would scoff, before shaking your head, evidently in denial. “Don’t worry,” she cooed, before delicately connecting her lips to your’s, and you would instantly melt into the kiss, whilst butterflies began to flutter around in the lower depths of your stomach, overwhelming you in the best way possible, “you’ll always be my number one, little wolfy, no matter what.”

“G-Good,” you replied, your face instantly a lot brighter than it had been, before, “because you’ll always be my number one, too - always, I promise.”

You then winced, finding yourself feeling tired again, and Harley would smile sadly down at you, after you’d yawned, and your eyes were half-lidded again. “You should get some more sleep, Alpha,” she advised, “you’ve had a long day, and need to rest to get better for me.” You would nod gravely, and Cane would hesitantly stand up, though she’d rather stay to make sure that you were okay, after what had happened not too long ago, now. “You should get to bed now, too, Cassie; you’ve got school tomorrow,” she reminded, and Cane would wince; she’d completely forgotten, “goodnight.”

“Night,” Cane returned, before dragging herself from the room, and leaving you both alone again.

“You - You don’t need to stay here all night, if you’re mad at me for lying, earlier,” you reassured her, but she would shake her head quickly, before resting her head on top of your’s affectionately, and stroking your hair with her left hand.

“I’m not mad at you,” she claimed, “I’m just glad you’re okay, Nugget, but - just - promise me you won’t ever lie again, because - I could have lost you, today, and-.. I-.. I don’t ever want something like that to happen, ever again.”

“I won’t, I promise,” you responded, “and you won’t ever come even close to losing me again, like-.. like you did, today.”

“Good,” she replied, “now - get some sleep, Alpha, and hopefully you’ll feel a little better, tomorrow.” You would then nod, before briefly connecting your lips to her’s again affectionately, and once it was sadly over, you buried your face into the crook of her neck, after letting your eyelids flutter shut.

🜸🜚🜸

“No fair,” Cane whined, after the Christmas party you’d all set up gradually came to a close, “I should be able to stay, too, and to have access to all those drinks you guys have been having - not just the soft stuff-”

Harley would snort alongside you, amused by Cane’s reaction. “I knew it!” She chimed, and Cane would grunt, before looking away from you both. “You’re just jealous that we can drink, and you can’t,” she pieced together, and the Birds of Prey, including even Huntress, would burst out laughing with you both, “don’t worry, Cassie, you’ll get there eventually, and just think - tomorrow morning, you’ll have all your presents to open - exciting, right?”

“Sure,” she uttered, before begrudgingly dragging herself up the stairs, “night!”

“I guess we should be heading off to bed, too,” Renee mused, “got a few thugs to catch tomorrow, after you’ve both returned to the other side with Waller and Bloodsport.”

Harley would appear disheartened by the reminder, but would try to hide it from them; she liked being away from the mission you both were currently on, and it only made you want to try and fight even harder than you already were to end it; to kill the Omega Prime Minister, and his army of both Omegas beneath him and hunters. “I suppose it would probably be sensible,” she remarked, though she’d rather stay up, “gotta-.. be prepared - for training, tomorrow - and pushing the next bout of hunters and stinky Omegas back. What do you say, Alpha?”

“You’re right,” you corroborated, before standing up after her, and smiling over at the others, “we’ll see you all in the morning to do the presents - c’mon, Quinzels.”

“Night, guys,” she concluded, before following you up the stairs to your and her bedroom, but it wouldn’t be long before you’d both be woken up again by more howling close by, except it wasn’t the Omegas this time, it was your pack calling for your assistance; they’d devised a plan to try and infiltrate the hidden base the Omega Prime Minister had been currently residing in recently to try and trick the group, and ensure his own ‘safety’ whilst building his army up even more.

🜚

You would tense up immediately after hearing your pack howling for you, and Harley would wake up shortly after you had, upon hearing them. “Y/n-? What’s going on?” She inquired sleepily, before sitting up, after you’d gotten out of bed to look out the window, finding each of them stood below, and some weaving between the trees behind those stood at the edge of Apocalypse Forest. “Is it the Omegas again?” She pried, and you would hesitate, before glancing back at her; they’d phased to you their plan through their pack bond which was connecting them to you, and you were afraid of how she might react if you told her about it, whilst at the same time feeling bad for considering lying to her again, after you’d promised her before that you wouldn’t.

“No,” you claimed, before turning to face her fully, and she would shyly walk up to you, before wrapping her arms around your waist, and you would smile softly over at her, whilst you returned the embrace, and she buried her face into the crook of your neck; she was worried about what their sudden outburst might mean for you both, and was terrified that she might lose you, if whatever they were planning on doing resulted in them being ambushed again, and you almost being killed, “they’re just - bombing me with all the: ‘I really wish you were here right now with us’ kind of things, as it’s basically-” You would quickly look up at the clock, to make sure that it was past Midnight, now, “well, Christmas day, now - we’re just past midnight.”

“Oh,” she replied, whilst expressing relief, and smiling lovingly over at you, “w-well, if you want, we could - go down there and spend some time with them?”

You would hesitate, before shaking your head. “Tomorrow,” you answered, whilst lifting your right hand up to her left cheek, and she would subconsciously lean into your touch, before leading you slowly back toward your and her bed.

🜚

The next morning, you’d made sure to get up earlier than the others and Harley to talk to your pack, and to try and negotiate a time for you all to try and infiltrate the Omega Prime Minister’s base, but you would also request for them, before concluding the secret meeting, to not say a word about the plan, at least until Christmas and Boxing day had passed, so you could all have a couple of somewhat more peaceful days, before the approaching - supposed - final battle, and once the secret meeting had been concluded, you snuck back up to your and Harley’s bedroom to rejoin her in bed, until she and the others began to stir.

“What? It’s not my fault that I look better in your clothes than you do,” Harley remarked playfully, after you’d found yourself staring longingly over at her; you’d offered her the jacket that Canary had bought for you so she could try it on, and you would smirk, amused by her response to your subconscious action.

“Damn right you do,” you corroborated, before leaning forward to kiss her lovingly, and she would melt into the kiss, whilst smiling warmly against your lips, but you would both try not to deepen it, no matter how much you wanted to, as the others were in the room, and neither of you wanted to make things awkward. “I love you so much,” you expressed, your voice close to a whisper whilst you did, and she would grin over at you, her eyes glinting whilst she did, before she connected her forehead to your’s, wishing you could both stay there for longer, with Cane, Bruce, and the Birds of Prey, “M-Merry Christmas, Quinzels.”

“Merry Christmas, Alpha,” she returned, before you both returned your attention to Cane, who was in the process of opening her gifts from the both of you.

🜚

After Christmas, and Boxing day, you still found you couldn’t tell them about the plan; you were terrified of how they might react to it, and even more so whenever you found yourself thinking about what could happen to Harley, if it was carried out; it was extremely risky, and could potentially lead to many more deaths than you’d been expecting, or hoping it would. However, your hiding it began to frustrate your pack, and Cane soon overheard you fighting with them about it, but she wouldn’t say anything to Harley or the others, after you’d - a few days before - found out that she’d been going out, in secret, with one of the boys from her school. “I won’t tell, if you don’t,” she stated, after you’d realised that she’d had to have been listening, upon you finding her waiting for you inside the base, and you would nod gravely, before you both awkwardly returned to the living room, where Harley, Bruce, and the Birds of Prey currently were, watching tv together.

🜚

“Got anything to say to us, before we go to bed?” Harley inquired, and Cane would wince, before shaking her head. “Oh c’mon,” she whined, “it’s only a simple, yet meaningful three words, Cassie.”

You couldn’t help, but giggle softly, amused by her attempts to try and get Cane to say the three words you both loved to hear. “Fine,” she gave in, “I - love you both - ugh, that’s disgusting, now get out; I’m tired.”

“Good,” she chimed, “we love you, too - we’ll get out of your hair, now. Goodnight!”

“Night,” Cane returned, and Harley would then get up off of the edge of her bed, before leaving the room, and waiting for you by the door of your and her’s.

“Night, kiddo,” you replied, before hesitantly pushing yourself off of the doorframe, and toward Harley. She would smile lovingly over at you, glad to see that you and Cane were getting along much better, now, before opening the door for you, and you would smile your thanks back at her, before slipping into the room, and she would follow immediately after, closing the door whilst she went.

🜚

The next morning, you had been called by your pack again - well, you thought you had been, but it had been two members in particular who had summoned you, and it worried you to find that it had been them - Caesar and Michael - the two members you found yourself having the least amount of trust in, after they’d almost gotten you killed by abandoning you after the ambush which had come before you being reunited with Harley again. It didn’t take you long, to deem your decision to answer their call a bad one; you soon found them beating you; they evidently - and had made it exceptionally clear - that they didn’t like the fact that you’d been holding back their plan, and hadn’t even told anyone about it yet, aside from the fact that they disapproved of the fact that you’d imprinted on a human, and hadn’t changed her yet - they also just didn’t like you, and hated the fact that they had to follow you. Once they were done, you found yourself limping back toward the base, and would falter as soon as you noticed Harley stood by the back door, hugging herself whilst she did; it was currently quite cold out - 9 or so degrees, you recalled, after you’d checked a little earlier upon waking up to them howling for you.

Her heart would sink, upon noticing all the cuts and bruises you’d returned with, and the small blood trail you were leaving behind you, evidently from your right leg. “Y/n,” she mustered feebly, before rushing over to you, and throwing her arms around you. “Are you okay? W-What happened? Who the fuck hurt you?” She questioned, after holding you at arm’s length, and you found you couldn’t even respond, feeling much too weak to, and you found you even couldn’t hold yourself up for much longer, and began to lean heavily against her, prompting her to protectively wrap her arms around your waist, whilst she looked around, after hearing chuckling nearby; Michael and Caesar had evidently been following you. “Show yourselves, I dare you!” She demanded, and they would step out, like the fools they were. She then brandished her spear, and lugged it in their direction, prompting them to swiftly retreat with their tails between their legs; they’d changed back to make a faster getaway. “Don’t you ever come near her again, because I will kill you next time!” She threatened after them, before returning her attention to you, her eyes again full of the concern she was currently holding for you.

“You’re-.. gonna be in deep shit, w-when-.. when their mama finds out you threatened them like that,” you managed in a shaky whisper, and Harley would shrug; she didn’t care, evidently, as she was only focussed on protecting and treating you, in this moment.

“I don’t care what she tries to do to me,” she replied, whilst slowly leading you back toward the base, “you are all that matters to me, Alpha; without you, I have nothing-”

“That’s not true,” you contradicted, a hurt look on your face whilst you glanced over at her, “you’ll always be everything, e-even without me, and you should care about what she might try and do, because when werewolves want revenge, it gets-.. very - bloody.”

“I hope you’re right about that, because I like a messy battle,” she remarked, “but don’t worry, I’ll try not to - well, kill her, if you’ll permit me to try and defend myself if she does decide to try and take action against me?”

“Only if I’m not there to try and defend you, myself,” you hesitantly corroborated quietly, and she would beam over at you, finding how you always being so protective and willing to defend her flattering, and the thought seem to even fluster her a little, “o-or if I get knocked out, or something, b-but - that won’t happen, I promise; I won’t let it.”

“You don’t always have to be so quick to try and risk your life for me, you know that, right?” She inquired, and you would falter, a look of disbelief on your face, whilst you were looking over at her again.

“Are you kidding me?” You responded, and she would simply shake her head, whilst intertwining the fingers of her free left hand with the trembling fingers of your pale right one. “I do have to,” you claimed, “not just because I want to, but because I can’t let you die; I can’t live without you, Quinzels, you-.. you mean-.. everything to me; more than life itself, a-and-.. if I lost you, I’d lose everything, including everything within me keeping me the way I am; I exist only for you, a-and that’s all I want, hence why I gave you my stone wolf, remember?”

She couldn’t help, but smile lovingly over at you, whilst tears threatened to escape her stunning icy blue eyes. “I love you so much,” she expressed, and you would try to return the significant three words to her, but before you could, you found yourself on the verge of collapsing again, and would whimper quietly whilst you did, but she would manage to catch you and hold you up again before you could hit the ground. “It’s okay, Nugget,” she cooed, “I’ve got you; I’ll never let you fall, ever, I promise, and I swear I will do everything I can to try and stop you from losing me, as long as you promise me that I’ll never lose you.”

You would smile softly up at her, wondering why - especially when she was still human, and had more free will - she still cared about you the way that she did, and still wanted to be by your side: to be your mate, after everything you’d both been through together. “You’ll never lose me, I promise,” you returned, “I love you, m-more than anything, and I will always fight just to be able to stay by your side, even when you decide you don’t want to be my mate anymore.”

“Y/n,” she whined, a hurt look on her face, and you would wince, “you - you know that that will never happen; I love you, and I could never love anyone else as much as I do you, you know that, right?”

“I know,” you replied, trying not to appear doubtful, though you were; you would always worry that she might find someone better than you, and leave you to rot and become an omega, or even to just die, but at the same time, you hated yourself for thinking that she would do that to you, when you knew, or rather hoped, that she wouldn’t consider hurting you like that, “you-.. still want me to change you, right? Once - Once this is all over?”

“Of course I do,” she answered, “I wanna be a big scary wolf, like you; you’re awesome!”

“Then you will be,” you chimed, glad to hear that she hadn’t had a change of heart, “but if you ever do decide you don’t-”

“I’ll always want to be like you,” she reassured, “now c’mon - I gotta get you patched up, before the big scary mom comes looking for me.” You would wince, before nodding in agreement, and nervously looking over your shoulder to check that she wasn’t already stalking you both, which she didn’t appear to be; she still had yet to hear about how Harley had threatened them, but little did you both know that she would be in agreement with you both that Harley had done nothing wrong; she’d only been defending you - her mate - and that was natural. You would both also be glad to hear that she’d punished Michael and Caesar for attacking you like they had, and that they wouldn’t be bothering you as much as they had been, anymore.

🜚

“I was wondering - why would they even attack you like that?” Harley inquired, after Renee had patched you up again, like she’d had to, before, not too long ago, now.

You would falter, and try to quickly think of an answer, afraid of how she might react if you told her about the plan you’d been recently hiding from them. “T-They just, er-.. well, I suppose they’ve never really liked me very much, a-and - probably wouldn’t mind being alpha, themselves,” you stammered out, and she would appear disappointed; she’d actually found out, after briefly leaving the room, and coming across your diary, that you had been hiding the plan your pack had come up with for a little while now - she couldn’t believe you were lying to her again, after you’d promised her that you wouldn’t.

“Really?” She questioned, and you would nod quickly, suddenly appearing frightened of something; you were worried that she already knew, and would begin to curse yourself when you found out that she did. “Because - that’s not what your diary said, in it’s most recent entry,” she contradicted, and you would fall quiet, a pained expression on your face whilst you did; you couldn’t believe you’d left it out like you had, and had now evidently upset her again, like you’d vowed that you wouldn’t anymore.

“Harley,” you whined, but she would cut you off by dropping your diary down onto your and her bed beside you.

“When are you gonna start keeping your promises?” She pried, her voice briefly trembling whilst she did, before she stormed out of the room, and you couldn’t help, but break down a brief moment after she’d left you alone in the room; you were sick of hurting her by trying to do things that you thought would protect her, and wished she’d just give up on you, and find someone better than you. You even found yourself subconsciously slipping the ring off of your finger, and setting it down on the bedside table, before you forced yourself out of your and her bed, and limped toward the window, intending to give her some more space, though you weren’t currently in the same room anymore; you didn’t want her to feel as if she had to do anything else for you, after you’d upset her again, so you hurriedly removed your clothing, before leaping out of the window, and tearing into your wolf form mid-air whilst you did, so you could stagger toward Apocalypse Forest, and the waterfall you’d grown up, and found yourself changing with.

🜸🜚🜸

The next day, Harley wouldn’t know that you’d gone, until the morning came, and you were all, excluding you, of course, sat around the kitchen table eating breakfast together. Things seemed to be okay, until Harley had noticed that Cane had been trying to hide the left side of her neck, prompting her to grow suspicious of her, and to, when she was least expecting it, lean over suddenly and move her hair out of the way, revealing a few dark marks which shocked Harley, and Renee alongside her, after Renee had managed to get a not-so-good look at them, too. “Cassandra Cane, are those hickeys on your neck?” Harley questioned, and Cane would then wince, before rushing up to her room, but before Harley could follow her, Renee would stop her, worried about her possibly going about things the wrong way, in response to Cane’s evident actions behind each of their backs.

You would then burst through the back door, upon sensing that Harley had been distressed by something, worrying you; you’d thought that she was in trouble, evidently, and was terrified of the possibility of her getting either hurt, or killed. ‘What happened?’ You phased, and had forgotten that they’d thought that you were still upstairs in bed, after you’d had to be treated.

You then rushed up to Harley’s right side to examine her, and try to find any wounds she might have somehow been given, whilst you had been away from her. She would then shove you away gently, after she’d regained composure, and you would falter, whilst beginning to feel guilty all over again for lying to her, and upsetting her the day before. She would feel bad for pushing you away upon noticing the hurt look on your face, before standing up, whilst her eyes began to glisten. “You’re sneaking out now?” She hissed shakily, but before you could answer, she would rush forward, and crouch down in front of you so she could throw her arms around you; she was just glad that you were okay, and hadn’t returned in a worse state than you had been in, before. “I’m so sorry,” she whined, before pressing her face into the crook of your neck, whilst she began to cry, making you feel even worse; you hated seeing her upset, and wished you’d not lied to her, and the others about the plan, “I shouldn’t have stormed out like that, I know; I should have given you a chance to explain-”

‘No, Quinzels,’ you interjected gently, whilst tears began to cloud your vision, too, ‘you were right for reacting the way you did; I shouldn’t have lied like that, I was just scared of telling you and the others about their plan; it’s - it’s incredibly risky, a-and.. and - I could lose you; I can’t let that happen-’

“Every plan we come up with to end this is gonna be risky, Alpha,” she reminded you, “there’s nothing we can do to try and make it any safer, and.. there’s equally nothing we can do to try and prevent anything happening to any of us; to prevent any-.. casualties.. we’ve just gotta try and - avoid them, and think positively; we can end this, Nugget, I know we can, and I can’t promise that we’ll get out of it completely unharmed, or alive, but - I believe - if we try hard enough; if we fight hard enough, and stick together - we can.” She would then delicately brush away a stray tear from your left cheek with her right thumb, as her right hand was now resting upon it, prompting you to subconsciously lean into her touch, whilst you locked eyes with her in the best way possible. “Can’t we?” She inquired, hoping you believed that you all could, too.

You would then smile softly over at her, whilst your eyes began to glint, prompting her heart to skip a beat, and a smile to tug at the corners of her lips again, before you nodded. ‘Damn right we can,’ you answered, and she would beam victoriously over at you, until Cane re-entered the room, appearing worried again.

“Y/n’s not-..” She would fall quiet, upon noticing you with Harley. “Upstairs anymore,” she concluded quietly, before warily stepping back, and you would wonder why the atmosphere in the room had suddenly grown to be so intense, prompting you to look between Harley and Cane for a moment, a puzzled expression on your face whilst you did.

‘What’s-’

“Someone’s been giving Cassie hickeys,” Harley answered, and you would suddenly falter again, before grimacing, and subconsciously rising, whilst your irises began to flicker dangerously between their bold orange colour and a bright red.

‘I’ll kill them,’ you growled quietly, and Harley would wrap her arms around your neck to try and provide comfort to you, and calm you down; she was worried about you possibly getting into trouble with Waller if she found out that you had tried to maul a child.

“Nobody’s dying today, Nugget,” she cooed, before returning her attention to Cane, who was shifting uncomfortably in place, “just - tell us - what’s their name? Are they in your year?”

She would suddenly appear fearful, worried about what Harley might be planning to do to her boyfriend, Noah. “W-Why?” She questioned, and Harley would wince, before thinking for a moment, and shrugging a little whilst she did.

“Oh, nothing,” she answered, but Cane wouldn’t believe that, at all, “I just wanna talk to them, nothing particularly serious.”

“You can’t-”

“I think I can, and I will-”

“Harley,” Renee warned, but Canary would find herself amused by the situation, as well as concerned about what Noah might end up doing to Cane.

“I think we should, Renee,” Canary corroborated, “just to make sure he’s suitable enough for her, and to set some boundaries.”

Renee would think about it for a moment, before begrudgingly giving in, and nodding. “Fine,” she replied, before turning to face Cane, “where do they live?”

🜚

“Oh c’mon,” Cane whined, “please let me go with you-”

“No,” Harley interjected, and she would groan, evidently frustrated, as well as worried about what might happen to Noah.

“Why not-?” She retorted, and you would smile reassuringly over at Harley, noticing she seemed a little annoyed, still, after what has happened, with her finding the hickeys on Cane’s neck.

“Because I’m pretty sure I told you to stay in the car,” Harley answered, and Cane would grunt, before turning away from her, and you would shuffle toward the car door after she’d gotten out next to you, “make sure she doesn’t try to escape, Alpha, I’ll be back soon.”

She would then lean down to briefly connect her lips to your’s lovingly, and you would instantly melt into the kiss, before smiling warmly back at her after the kiss had sadly ended, whilst your heart began to race. “Good luck trying to get through to them,” you offered, and Harley would wince, before smiling her thanks back at you, and rushing off to catch up to the others who were waiting at the gate of Noah’s parent’s house.

You would then turn to face the centre of the car, and could feel that Cane was glaring over at you. “You promised they wouldn’t find out,” she reminded you, and you would falter, “where were you?”

“Out,” you answered simply, “I had to-”

“No, you didn’t,” she contradicted, “you probably just rushed out for some other selfish reason; you’re pathetic.”

You would sigh, before nodding your head gravely; you knew she was right; you’d felt as if you had to be away from them for a little while, to try and protect them, and to take your anger and sadness out on the tres and boulders you came across. “Yeah,” you murmured, “you’re probably right about that, kiddo; I could have stayed, and this wouldn’t have happened-”

“Do you know what I’m gonna have to do, now?” Cane inquired, and you would nod again.

“Tell them about the plan I’ve been trying to hide from them,” you answered, “but - it’s too late.. they already know about it, now.”

Cane would fall quiet for a moment, shocked, as well as irritated to hear that she now had nothing to mentally burden you with, for letting them find out about her and Noah. “How?” She hissed, and you would bow your head a little, whilst you thought about how there was a chance you could lose Harley, if the plan was carried out, soon finding yourself fighting back tears again; you were terrified, and found you couldn’t prompt yourself to be positive about the plan, at all, after a few nights of considering every single possibility. “For god’s sake,” she continued, and you would try to swallow the lump in your throat, before nodding again timidly.

“I could still be hurt, y’know, even if you don’t have anything else to tell them about me,” you replied, “even though it wasn’t you who told them - If I lost Harley, I don’t-..” A strained sob would manage to escape your lips, but you would try and cover it up with a shaky and unconvincing cough. “I don’t know what I’d do,” you expressed, your voice barely audible, “I’d lose.. I’d lose everything, a-and.. I could become an Omega; like one of those monsters. I could - hurt - so many people.. She’s the only one keeping me tethered to this world; I exist, and was made only for her, and if she dies, I would rather die, too, alongside her.”

“So you’d kill yourself, and leave me to fend for myself?” She guessed, and you would glance over at her, whilst the tears streamed down your cheeks.

“You’d be fine,” you claimed, and she would scoff, before looking away from you, “you have the Birds of Prey-”

“But you aren’t them; you and Harley are supposed to be my parents,” she interrupted, and you found you couldn’t respond; you weren’t sure how to, “screw you.” She would then swiftly take off one of her sneakers, before hitting you across the face with it, shocking you, and allowing her to quickly lean over you and snatch the car keys from you so she could unlock it, and sprint away from it.

“Cassie!” You called, and would stagger out of your side of the car, but you found she had disappeared from your vision by the time you’d managed to get out, and recover yourself. “Shit,” you spat, whilst Canary and Huntress attempted to run after her, and Harley and Renee had decided to return to you, “I’m so sorry, Quinzels..”

Harley would falter when she noticed the red mark on your right cheek, and you would bow your head again after she’d released your chin. “She hit you-?” She mused, but you wouldn’t respond, finding you couldn’t; you were trying not to cry again, feeling guilty for letting her run away like that. “Y/n,” she cooed, “look at me.. Does it hurt? D-Do you want me to get you anything?”

“I don’t need anything,” you tried to reassure her, before anxiously looking toward Apocalypse Forest, “but Cassie might; she’s heading into Omega territory.”

“We’re gonna get her out,” she promised, “and they won’t even touch her, I’m sure they won’t.” She would then turn to face Renee, who was evidently worried, and anxious to go after Cane, before the Omegas could get to her. “C’mon, I wanna have stern words with her, before the Omegas can,” she encouraged, and Renee would nod, before rushing toward Apocalypse Forest alongside you both, “I’ll make sure she won’t hit you again like that, and I’ll get that mark to fade and the pain to go away before the sun’s gone down, I promise.”

“Don’t bother,” you responded, “it was my fault, Quinzels..”

She would appear puzzled, glancing over at you, whilst she began to slow down a little after you had. “What do you mean?” She inquired, and you would wince, before looking away from her. “Y/n-”

You would both be cut off by a roar nearby, and you would falter, noticing the Omega running toward you both. “Look out-!” You cried, but she would be - despite her attempt to jab at the omega with her spear - knocked down, and would fall unconscious as soon as the back of her head had hit the ground.

~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed it! ❤️

[wraith-caller]

Elden Ring and the 5 Stages of Grief

The story around Those Who Live in Death is often characterized as being about prejudice. They didn't choose to be what they are, the game paints the Hunters of the Dead as blindly seeking an enemy to contend with, Rogier says they are in need of saving, and Fia seeks to "stay their persecution". Alongside the omens, the misbegottens, and the albinaurics, TWLID are just another rung on the Golden Order's "not fit for life" ladder of being. But there is another lens we could view this story through, and I don't see it brought up very often. I'd like to suggest that this is a story about death and the very human reactions to it, manifest in the behavior and actions of the characters integral to the Duskborn questline.

🚨🚨SPOILERS AHEAD🚨🚨

Darian - Denial

"Those Who Live in Death fall outside the principles of the Golden Order. Their mere existence sullies the guidance of gold. Tainting its truth. And so it is the vermin must be exterminated... Down to the very last."

Darian is presented to us as someone staunch and unflinching in his beliefs, to the exclusion of all other perspectives. The Order has told him that the dead are vermin, and that's all he needs to know. But it's not just their word he's taken. He's witnessed the bloodshed and pain that the living dead inflict on others, and he laments it. We meet him beside a dead man, killed by TWLID, and he tries to keep us from running headlong into the same fate by warning us away from the Mariner. Darian has only seen the cruelty and the violence of death, has been mired in it as a hunter, and relentlessly pursues an end to it. He is denial, resistant not just to death but to change.

Devin - Anger

"Soon you will know, filthy witch! The wrath of D!"

This one's probably simplest to argue. Devin's singular scene in game is all about gaining vengeance for Darian, and he makes repeated use of the word "wrath". Death has forced its way into his life, first in the face of Godwyn that drives him mad, and again when his brother, the other half of his soul, is murdered. When we meet Darian, his sword is planted in the earth and he is praying for the dead. When we last see Devin, his sword is raised high and covered in blood as he curses Fia's mutilated corpse in anger.

Godwyn - Bargaining

"O brother, lord brother, please die a true death."

Like Miquella, Godwyn is more of a presence that hangs over the events of the game rather than much of an active element within it. It's hard to dredge up much about his character to make this link. But there are some pieces connected to him, such as the quote here from the Golden Epitaph, a weapon made in his honor, which come from a place of bargaining. There is Miquella's desire to bring him a true death, the mourning of the Crone in the Deeproots("he should have died a true death!"), and the desperation of Fortissax to forestall Godwyn's death. Godwyn himself may almost seem to be begging us for relief, his deathroots erupting from underground as cries for help, spreading his face on the backs of crabs and the castle of his descendants so that someone may see him and take notice of his agony, and possibly deliver him from it. While the bargaining stage is generally geared in the opposite direction, begging for life, Godwyn and those few who know of his fate, may know it is too late for that, and so they beg for a true death instead.

Rogier - Depression

"This is unfortunate...Couldn't change a thing."

While Rogier is a character described as concealing his anger, regret, grief, and fear, his aloof bearing is most reminiscent of someone a bit more numb than anything else. Yes he is friendly and polite, but we're told by the game that this is a mask, and it's something not entirely uncommon in high functioning individuals afflicted with depression. He's someone that has lost everything else - the higher purpose a tarnished may find in the sight of grace, his friendships, whatever past he left behind before either dying or being exiled to TLB, even his life. He gives us, a near perfect stranger, his belongings, easily admitting he has no further use for it, reminiscent of the way a dying/suicidal person might start wrapping up the loose ends of their life. All he has left is his research, which, without our help, he'd have lost the ability to continue. Rogier clings to this final thread, hopes of seeing it through to the end, but his parting words to us are about a void he feels himself falling into, something deep and fathomless, and in the end that void consumes him.

Fia - Acceptance

This is goodbye, my dear. But I am satisfied.

Fia's quest revolves around not just the acceptance of TWLID, but uplifting them, mothering them, weathering the blows an unkind world would rain on them. Death is not an idle interest or a vague abstraction to her, but her profession, her purpose. Where Darian looks at what the dead have done and sees violence and blood, Fia sees the meek in need of a merciful mother. Death is not something to be reviled, but embraced. She even goes to her own end with grace and poise, knowing that the creation of the rune will kill her. She is content with her place at Godwyn's side, and readily accepts her end.

[deborahdeshoftim5779]

Some quotes here that deserve further comment:

With the shops closed and the midday sun beating down, Palestinians took to the streets in the centre of Ramallah to vent their anger.

Ramallah, home of the Fatah-dominated Palestinian Authority, is not exactly a stronghold of Hamas. The demonstration wasn’t huge – a few hundred people at most.

But no one should doubt the strength of feeling, the sense of shock and anger, generated by the killing of Ismail Haniyeh. The green banners of Hamas were held aloft, alongside – but outnumbering - the black, white, green and red, Palestinian flag. Children rode on their fathers’ shoulders, carrying toy machineguns.

This just demonstrates everything that is fundamentally wrong with Palestinian society. After months of insisting on a ceasefire for a war they encouraged and supported, you would think that Palestinians would welcome the death of a man who started this war.

Note that the BBC says that Ramallah isn't a stronghold of Hamas. But Palestinian polls show that Hamas' popularity has increased in the West Bank since the October 7 terrorist attack. And the Palestinian Authority (Fatah) attempted unsuccessfully to form a unity government with Hamas. The PLO is one of the Palestinian terrorist groups that previously met in Iran to swear allegiance to the IRGC and the Ayatollah.

Notice also the children brandishing toy machine guns, further proof that the Palestinians breed their children as cannon fodder in their neverending campaign of war.

Defiant chants echoed through the streets. But there’s real anxiety here too. Palestinians feel that a wider conflict might be looming, one that could engulf the West Bank. They feel that this is what the right-wing government of Benjamin Netanyahu wants.

Once again, we see the post-factum wisdom of the Palestinians. A sensible and ordered society would have foreseen the threat of a wider war prior to launching a heinous terrorist attack. Not so with the Palestinians. As the saying goes, fools rush in where angels fear to tread.

The Palestinians threw in their lot with Hamas, wildly celebrating some of the worst crimes against humanity within living memory (while simultaneously denying those crimes took place). Now that they are forced to face the cost of the war they planned, funded, and celebrated, they have suddenly become fearful of wider escalation.

Note how instead of blaming their own billionaire terrorist organisations and the foreign government using them as a tool, they choose to blame Prime Minister Netanyahu. Palestinian society is incapable of accepting personal responsibility.

“I think the Israeli government has just committed one of the gravest mistakes in its life,” the moderate Palestinian politician and former presidential candidate Mustapha Barghouti told me earlier, as he prepared to walk with the demonstrators.

“This was a political, criminal act and if they think that this act of assassination will break the Palestinian resistance, they are absolutely wrong.”

The Palestinians committed one of the gravest mistakes in their lives when they decided to stoop to unprecedented levels of savagery on October 7. In doing so, they lost the sympathy and support of almost all of the Israelis who had previously supported the establishment of a Palestinian state and peaceful coexistence.

They started a war that they are clearly losing, hence the desperate begging for an unconditional ceasefire and weaponisation of international outrage to save Palestinian SS officers from punishment.

But the supposedly "moderate" Palestinian politician Mustapha Barghouti does not mention October 7, let alone condemn the atrocities his people planned, committed, celebrated publicly, and then, in their moral bankruptcy, decided to deny because millions of civilised foreigners were disgusted by those crimes.

It never occurs to him that the Palestinians are almost entirely at fault for the predicament they find themselves in. Nor that the Palestinians' willing slavery to Iranian terrorists is a liability, not an asset.

Palestinian society is allergic to personal responsibility. Even the so-called "moderates". If this man is so moderate, why does he list a war criminal Haniyeh as part of Palestinian "resistance"? Because what is falsely labelled as "Palestinian resistance" is in fact the bloodthirsty ideology of Islamic jihad, as seen before in Islamic State, the IRGC, Hezbollah, and the rest of the savages currently causing murder and mayhem in the Middle East.

This morning I spoke to three senior Hamas officials, and they were all in a state of shock.

First of all, there is no such thing as a "Hamas official". These are terrorists, plain and simple. Do you ever hear people speak of "Islamic State officials" or "the al-Qaeda-run health ministry"? Terrorists are illegimitate by definition.

The state of shock further undermines how divorced the Palestinian mindset is from reality. These people thought that Israel was joking about targeting Hamas' leaders. They hid Yahya Sinwar in a tunnel, but thought that Ismail Haniyeh, who pretended to support ceasefire negotiations, would be immune to said punishment. They thought Israel was buying the line that Haniyeh was a mere "political leader" and wouldn't be treated as an architect of October 7.

And they were proved entirely wrong.

No wonder they are in a state of shock. This will devastate Hamas for weeks, if not months. It will severely restrict their ability to travel safely, thereby strengthening their isolation and weakening their terrorist infrastructure. Yahya Sinwar, who was relying on Ismail Haniyeh's confidence, is now isolated, all the more so since Mohammed Deif and Mohammed Issa are both dead.

They gave different - quite confusing - accounts as to what exactly happened in the Iranian capital, Tehran, in the early hours of today.

Terrorists are untrustworthy. Surprise, surprise. Maybe it's time to take a closer look at their "death toll" statistics as well, where they have been mysteriously concealing the number of dead Hamas terrorists and inflating the number of women and children fatalities.

They said they were very surprised by the attack, that Haniyeh had visited the city many times before and must have felt safe going there.

What are they surprised by? Israel meant business about destroying Hamas. Ismail Haniyeh was on Israel's kill list from day one of this war. These bewildered Arabic SS officers evidently thought they could tie Israel's hands behind its back by continually stalling over the hostage negotiations, and that this would protect Ismail Haniyeh and Yahya Sinwar from being killed. Hubris and a total lack of morality.

And the question now arises as to who should be responsible for this major security failure - and was it the right decision for Haniyeh to be in Tehran in the first place?

Really? No questions as to Haniyeh's leadership of a Nazi terrorist organisation, his perpetrating of Nazi extermination doctrines against the Jews since the late 1980s, his involvement in October 7, his fomenting of wider war, his support for the Iranian terrorist state, and his attempt to prolong the suffering of Israel's hostages by frustrating negotiation?

Was it the right decision for Ismail Haniyeh to centre his life around the extermination of the Jews?

Ceasefire talks: And there are also concerns for what it means for ceasefire talks - as Haniyeh was a key figure in negotiations. Qatar's PM says how can talks succeed when one side targets another.

Is Qatar's Prime Minister on drugs? Or is he suffering from amnesia? Ceasefire talks are being governed by the hostages that his friends in HAMAS kidnapped from Israel. Has he forgotten that? Has it occurred to him that no talks with his corrupt, pro-terrorist state would be necessary if HAMAS had not targeted ISRAEL last October?

Hamas is the reason why talks are failing. Hamas is the reason for the "wider war" that journalists and Palestinians who refuse to learn their lesson are now quivering over.

These foreign useful idiots wait for the Palestinians to commit crimes instead of stopping them from doing so, launder those crimes as being inevitable or justified, then start drumming up "wider war" fears whenever Israel pursues justice against the Palestinian (and Lebanese and Iranian) criminals. This helps entrench the Palestinian sense of perpetual victimhood, allowing them to avoid addressing their own wrongdoing and involvement in starting wars they clearly cannot win.

Here's a rather telling part:

But not every incident like this leads to escalation.

In 2020 then-President Trump ordered the assassination of Iran’s most powerful military commander Gen Qasem Soleimani, in Baghdad.

There were furious calls for revenge but not much happened.

In 1986, then-President Reagan ordered an airstrike on Libya in retaliation for the bombing of a Berlin discotheque.

There were fears the Arab world would erupt in flames but it didn’t.

And why is this the case? Because the Palestinians and their deluded, amoral followers keep making the same fundamental miscalculation. They overestimate the amount of support they have in the Arab and Muslim world. Granted, many Arabs and Muslims have chosen to jump on the Palestinian train of Islamic jihad masquerading as political grievance. But the Palestinians and their Iranian slave masters simply do not have as much support as they believe.

Hamas gave slow, yet increasing Arab and Muslim willingness to normalise relations with Israel as a justification for its apocalyptic slaughter of Israelis on October 7. Hamas and its proxies hoped that October 7 would mobilise the mujahideen (Islamic soldiers). Hamas and its proxies hoped that the entire Arab and Muslim world would back Iran's attempts to exterminate Israel.

None of this turned out as the Palestinian terrorists had hoped. Saudi Arabia, while maintaining an appearance of distance from Israel, nonetheless chose to help block Iran's unprecedented missile strike on Israel this past April. Saudi Arabia also blocked financial transfers to the West Bank and Gaza. Prior to this, Saudi Arabia had blocked financing to the Palestinian Authority, only relaxing that block as part of the 2020 Abraham Accords.

Even Jordan, whose Queen never misses a chance to excoriate Israel, helped block Iran's missile strike against Israel.

There are quiet, yet notable factions within the Arab and Muslim world that fear Iran and see Israel as a necessary tool of pushing back on the Islamic Republic's murderous sphere of influence.

But there's an even more fundamental issue here. For decades, Western journalists, "intellectuals", and others have capitulated to Islamic terrorists by demonising anyone who wishes to confront them. The reasoning goes that confronting Islamic terrorists will lead to escalation. The idea that Islamic terrorists often use threats to fabricate an appearance of strength, that they can overestimate the number of allies they have, and that it is, in fact, possible to defeat them, is often ignored.

Hence why the world has refused to back Israel's aim of destroying Hamas. It's not possible, they said. Hamas will always be there, they said. It will lead to escalation, they said.

Yet after the killing of Ismail Haniyeh, Hamas' terrorists are reportedly in a state of shock, unable to account for how Haniyeh could be targeted while in Tehran, and now fearing for the prospect of a ceasefire. Hamas will now struggle to travel freely, knowing that if Israel could kill Haniyeh in Tehran, no Hamas leader is safe (as Israel vowed last year). Hamas will struggle to promote a new leader. Yahya Sinwar will be further isolated.

The fact that Hamas is doing everything it can to engender a ceasefire with little to no conditions is already proof that Hamas cannot win. Not even with the support of the terrorist Islamic Republic, Lebanon, and the Houthis in Yemen. As soon as they feel the heat from Israel, they are suddenly interested in negotiation for a ceasefire.

Islamic terrorists can be defeated. People just have to want to do it. If the civilised world declared war on Hamas, Hezbollah, the Houthis, and the IRGC, these amoral savages would be in serious panic mode. Without gullible Westerners believing that these people are "fighting injustice", they have limited support. Even the Arabs and Muslims openly cheering for these Palestinian SS officers aren't that keen on taking in many Palestinians from the war zones they created.

One day we will wake up and hear that Yahya Sinwar has been captured and killed. It will be like the last days of Adolf Hitler in his bunker. This is because Israel believes in justice and is dedicated to victory, no matter what the cowardly international community says. And when the Middle East becomes a civilised place, people will have to thank Israel for having sacrificed so much to rid the world of these Islamic terrorists.

[ted616]

analysis/kinda headcanon bs about Kishibe CSM bc i love this man so much and i need fujimoto to bring him back NOW

SO. Kishibe is one of my favorite characters in the whole work, and I just read through some of the light novel stuff and adored it. So I wanna rant about this poor old fart for a little while.

First of all, and this is the mainly headcanon side of everything/kinda theory i guess: I believe Kishibe is actively trying to give Denji a better life. He’s doing work in trying to get the kid to *not* grow up like him. What do I mean by this?

We know little from Kishibe’s younger years, but we do have enough information about them. He was more laid-back, expressive, somewhat of a womanizer and in general a lot more vivid than he is in the present day. We know well that most of this attitude and persona he once had was slowly taken away by his job at Public Safety, having worked there for what we can guess are 20-30 years (?) if we think that he’s around his 20’s or even 30’s when he first meets Quanxi and 50 when the story starts.

It is always said how Public Safety is a dangerous job, how most hunters don’t last more than some months or a year. Kishibe, probably thanks to his own physical cappabilites, his own philosophy and his many contracts, is the only human hunter to last as long as he has. In the process of this, he’s lost most of his actual emotion and affection with people, life and even himself.

Let’s get this clear: Kishibe is a husk of who he used to be. He’s old and he can’t even utilize his devil contracts as much because of how much they’ve taken from him already. He is the prime example of what happens to a normal human once they’ve been a devil hunter for too long, and I believe he fears this may happen to anyone else.

First of all; Kishibe has lots of experience fighting alongside people like Denji. Literally speaking, his buddy was a hybrid that is implied to be possibly even hundreds of years old (As Quanxi is regarded as the “First Devil Hunter”). Quanxi herself is a huge mess just like Kishibe, them representing two sides of how the job may affect people that’ve worked on it for too long.

I believe that Kishibe knows what could happen with Denji if he keeps dwelling in devil hunting for too long, possibly under control of Public Safety once again. Kishibe may see himself in the guy, a young person with a lot of potential and raw power, almost perfect for the job, who is a little too careless about it. Denji has already gone through the process of getting attached to people to then lose them horribly, and Kishibe has seen the effect that had on him. He fears that if that keeps happening, and Denji doesn’t distance himself from devil hunting, all the pain and the death may turn him into another sad, emotionless man like he himself is; who’s gonna have to live through shit like this for far longer than Kishibe himself has or will, as he is inmortal. 

I think that’s one of the many reasons as to why he’d leave Denji with Nayuta. Partially, it may just be to give Denji someone to rely on, a fragment of the family he once had, so that he doesn’t drown in loneliness like Kishibe must’ve done after he stopped working with Quanxi. I also theorize that, if Yoshida’s (and we will talk about that asshole in a minute) “organization” has anything to do with Kishibe, it may partially be that he fears that CSM’s identity being revealed to the world would affect Denji mentally and fuck him up even more.

Again, this dwindles a LOT in theorizing/headcanoning, and the guy may really not care about anyone at all, but I can dream.

So, my headcanon is that Kishibe’s basically a father figure who is trying to care about Denji’s mental state because he fears the guy may turn into Kishibe 2, or something like that. But I have more shit, because I care a lot about this man.

So, Yoshida. That asshole.

A lot of people have theorized that he may be Kishibe’s, son? nephew? because of the similarities that he shares with Kishibe’s look when he was younger, and because of their interactions in the World’s Assasins arc. So what do I have to add to that?

From Chapter 121, we know that Yoshida agrees on the view of closing oneself from the world, relying only on the media around them (Movies, Books, etc) and not indulging in human interaction. I believe this is thanks to two things: He’s already seen the horrors of devil hunting and is slowly taking the route Kishibe took, and his own upbringing as a child.

So, listen to me in this one. It is a concurrent thing in the light novel (CSM Buddy Stories) that Young Kishibe is somewhat of a womanizer, him always crashing at random girl’s houses, and being the huge flirt that he is. We know that’s something he’s lost over time, to the point where he probably doesn’t feel romantic or sexual affection for anyone anymore, but that is something that was part of his character as a younger man. I believe, and again, it’s merely theorizing, that in one of his (probably) many affairs with random women he met at bars, Kishibe didn’t use protection and Yoshida was eventually born.

So, Kishibe fathered a child unknowingly, disappearing from that woman’s life completely as soon as he was done, and the poor girl never found him again possibly because of his job at Public Safety. I believe that Yoshida then was raised by a single mother, who only knew that his father was a Devil Hunter, and that the lack of a father figure in his life and his general persona of, well, being a weirdo, landed on him never really having meaningful relationships throughout his youth, and doing as he said in Ch. 121, which is closing himself from the world and giving his attention to media instead of people.

Kishibe probably never learned of the fact that he had a son until recently, possibly just right around the start of the World’s Assasins arc where he actually meets Yoshida, who may’ve become a devil hunter to search for his old man. I believe that Kishibe felt actual remorse once he found out, and we do see him trying to connect with the kid in their interactions, but I think it’s clear that Yoshida has a certain dislike of the guy, for obvious reasons.

Kishibe knows that Yoshida is going down a similar path as he did, and probably fears that the kid’s gonna end up like him just as much as he does with Denji. Again, in case that this “organization” Yoshida works with has anything to do with Kishibe, I do believe he may’ve sent him specifically as to have the two of them interact and maybe develop an actual bond, probably trying to replicate what happened with Denji and Aki.

I do think that once Kishibe comes back to the story, we could see a more sympathetic side of him. It does depend a lot on what may happen with the Horsemen, but I’m already picturing Denji being in one or another situation in which he may have to fight with anyone that he actually cares about (Be it Nayuta, Asa or even Yoshida), basically repeating history in how he had to fight Reze and Aki, and him for once giving up. Not wanting to go down that way again, not wanting to lose anyone again, and actually being supported by the one man who understands what it feels like to be put on a job like this, where everyone you may care about dies.

So that’s kind of it. I’m really excited for what may come next in Part 2, and am already thinking of like 50 different things that could go down, and can’t wait for the next chapter to come. lmao.

[pikminenjoyer]

I finished Sense and Sensibility and it was great! Lost a few points due to me not liking Edward that much but I'll get over it.

This means its time for another round of CHOOSE MY NEXT READ!!!

This time, with propaganda included!

The Bell Jar - The Bell Jar chronicles the crack-up of Esther Greenwood: brilliant, beautiful, enormously talented, and successful, but slowly going under—maybe for the last time. Sylvia Plath masterfully draws the reader into Esther's breakdown with such intensity that Esther's insanity becomes completely real and even rational, as probable and accessible an experience as going to the movies

Anxious people - Viewing an apartment normally doesn’t turn into a life-or-death situation, but this particular open house becomes just that when a failed bank robber bursts in and takes everyone in the apartment hostage. As the pressure mounts, the eight strangers begin slowly opening up to one another and reveal long-hidden truths.

Catch-22 - Set in Italy during World War II, this is the story of the incomparable, malingering bombardier, Yossarian, a hero who is furious because thousands of people he has never met are trying to kill him. But his real problem is not the enemy—it is his own army, which keeps increasing the number of missions the men must fly to complete their service. Yet if Yossarian makes any attempt to excuse himself from the perilous missions he’s assigned, he’ll be in violation of Catch-22, a hilariously sinister bureaucratic rule: a man is considered insane if he willingly continues to fly dangerous combat missions, but if he makes a formal request to be removed from duty, he is proven sane and therefore ineligible to be relieved.

Rosemary's Baby - Suppose you were an up-to-date young wife who moved into an old and elegant New York apartment house with a rather strange past. Suppose that only after you became pregnant did you begin to suspect the building harbored a diabolically evil group of devil worshippers who had mastered the arts of black magic and witchcraft. Suppose that this satanic conspiracy set out to claim not only your husband but your baby.

Well, that's what happened to Rosemary... Or did it...?

Too Like the Lightning - Mycroft Canner is a convict. For his crimes he is required, as is the custom of the 25th century, to wander the world being as useful as he can to all he meets. Carlyle Foster is a sensayer--a spiritual counselor in a world that has outlawed the public practice of religion, but which also knows that the inner lives of humans cannot be wished away.

Daughter of the Moon Goddess - Growing up on the moon, Xingyin is accustomed to solitude, unaware that she is being hidden from the feared Celestial Emperor who exiled her mother for stealing his elixir of immortality. But when Xingyin’s magic flares and her existence is discovered, she is forced to flee her home, leaving her mother behind.

Alone, powerless, and afraid, she makes her way to the Celestial Kingdom, a land of wonder and secrets. Disguising her identity, she seizes an opportunity to learn alongside the emperor's son, mastering archery and magic, even as passion flames between her and the prince.

To save her mother, Xingyin embarks on a perilous quest, confronting legendary creatures and vicious enemies across the earth and skies. But when treachery looms and forbidden magic threatens the kingdom, she must challenge the ruthless Celestial Emperor for her dream—striking a dangerous bargain in which she is torn between losing all she loves or plunging the realm into chaos

[lookbluesoup]

I've been pondering Nate's backstory a fair bit, and especially thinking of ways to parallel with Gale's. I really don't know ThAT much about the BG lore but I've been poking around on the Forgotten Realms wiki to at least have a rough idea of things

Early Years

In this universe Nate's father Cato was a Drow, which kinda sucked for Cato. Sorry man. Growing up in Drow society made him vicious and disillusioned and manipulative.

Nate's mother Adlevia was a human Druid from a small Circle - raided and destroyed along with the patch of woodland they loved, with many taken into slavery. She survived the longest out of those captured, owing to the ferocity of her survival instinct. Long enough for a spark between her and Cato to inspire him to abandon his homeland and elope with her - at great personal risk to both.

They fled to deep forest, strong in magic and far from civilization, where she could protect them from all but the most determined of incursions, and it was here Nate was born, where they hoped he would be safe from their own pasts.

But Cato and Adlevia had lived through real horrors, and a lifetime of pain and resentment was hard for Cato to put aside. So was all Adlevia had lost. They were in love, but it wasn't an idyllic marriage. Fights were frequent and not always hidden from Nate, who often felt compelled to intervene. Cato could be outright abusive in the name of preparing Nate for life. Adlevia was stern, demanding in her lessons on Druidcraft. They wanted to protect Nate - but they wanted him to be able to protect himself, too.

Thus self-doubt seeded itself in Nate at a young age, and he couldn't help but blame himself for his parent's strife -- as many small children are wont to do.

Cato died while Nate was in his adolescence, Drow have long lives and long memories and the slight of the lover's escape was unforgivable. He fell in defense of the wood, and his family.

Widowed Adlevia lived to a goodly age, but she was human, and made no attempts to extend her life beyond it's natural span. Even raising a child who grew so much more slowly than a human child might. She was elderly before Nate was old enough to live on his own, and gone from him before he would have liked. But she'd taught him to survive.

---

Mielikki's Favour

Nate took naturally(hah) to Druidcraft. His friends growing up were the beasts and birds and dryads of the wood. He wandered through it without fear, and took a particular mastery to Wild Shape. He would run with the wolves and flock with the sparrows.

In spite of his parents efforts to prepare him, Nate had a soft heart. He would mend wounded animals and restore withering plants, unable to watch them suffer in silence.

He found, as a young man, a wounded hind. Ravaged by some predator she'd escaped, only to have her strength fail her.

Most would have killed her as a mercy. It was only a hind. Adlevia would have urged Nate to if she'd known - for death is a natural part of the cycle of life, and trying to mend such grievous wounds might only extend the hind's suffering without saving her.

Nate wouldn't. Couldn't. For weeks he laboured tirelessly to care for her, until she could stand again and her pains were but a memory.

It was in this way he drew the eye of Mielikki.

She came to him as a woman, russet-haired, soft of step. And they ran wild through the forest together for a time. She was the wind in the leaves and the songs of the birds and the babble of brooks. Of course he loved her. And because he loved her so dearly, she loved him in kind.

He did not at first realize it was a goddess he had taken up with. These were arguably the happiest years of Nate's life and he would have been content to live out the rest of his days with her. But of course, all things have seasons.

Mielikki knew Nate was mortal, even if Drow blood made him longer-lived than most, and that, ultimately, he belonged with his own kind. He needed to be part of nature, not simply alongside it. She told him as much. Their tryst ended amicably, Nate accepted her wisdom, even though it hurt.

---

Folk Hero

From there he began to wander, leaving the safety of his woodland home for forests unseen. Always he felt Mielikki watching over him, though, and took solace in her continued favour.

A Druid with no Circle, he aided man and beast alike where troubles found him. As decades passed he developed a reputation as a Folk Hero - how could he not, a half-Drow appearing from the woods with wolves at his heels, helping strangers in unexpected - often bloodless - ways, and vanishing again.

So it went, until the Nautilus, and everything Nate cherished both in the world and in himself would come under siege.

[cryopathiic-a]

 “ i’ve  sinned  enough  for  the  both  of  us. “

He invited him, today, to sit at the back of the sermon chamber and attend. And apart from the chod chiming rhythmically in the monks' hands to escort the Lord Founder's humble ascension onto the pedestal, nothing of what happens in this room adheres to tradition. Nothing of what happens in this room has happened anywhere else, ever before.

People pour in the room from the entryways. People in rags, in freshly gifted kimonos; people whose growling stomach has been quelled and people who wear their exertion on their faces, under their eyes, in their fidgeting fingers. The sheer weight of despair within that room is oppressive. And the walls heave with a collective sigh.

When the bell and dorje chime; silence falls over the lambs.

Ding.

❝ Sin. ❞

A pregnant pause. Some confusion in the room as the word hovers ominously in the air; heralding the topic of today's sermon. The Lord Founder stands atop a shallow platform, surrounded by luscious flora and artificial light that grants a beautiful glimmer to his pearlescent nails. His palms, pressed together in front of his chest as if in prayer. There's a pious expression on his seraphic visage; one his pristine features were made to wear. Childilke innocence. His cadence is sweet nectar that draws these people in like moths to a blinding light. Dōma begins his litany; just as a procession of acolytes begin to part the crowd. They hold out bowls made from clay filled with dark powder. The faithful bow their heads to receive a stroke of black over their forehead, right over where the third eye would be resting.

One by one, they are marked. A monk approaches the guest in disguise as well, expecting him to oblige just as all the others did. They only see another man, after all, another lost soul that came here to partake in the blessed one's infinite wisdom.

❝ Making amends for our sins. Sin. This darkness, this blackness that's spilled into us. ❞ And not a single person is left unscathed. Not even the Lord Founder himself. Dōma closes his eyes, smiling when he bows his head so the monk can reach up to mark him as well.

❝ That darkness, we wear it. On our forehead today— just, that little bit, just a smudge; just a smudge of ash. ❞ There's all sorts of people in this crowd. Women that dwell in the temple. Newcomers, guests, passerby travellers. Some still wear a smidgen of disbelief on their faces alongside the charcoal stain. But the Lotus' delivery is unwavering. His hands fall slowly to his sides, only to rise back up again as he begins to grow more animated with the words. ❝ Ash. Death. But also— rebirth. Resurrection! Eternal life; life that rises again, from the ashes, from the darkness— my friends. ❞ And he points up.

❝ Look. Look, not at my finger; look up, up there, at the sky— ❞

At the Sun God's mural. His eyes, a deep plum red that's as vivid as the lillies painted around his features; ageless and endless and so very pale. His dark curls, his lashes - or hers, or theirs, really, there is no telling what that entity is because there is nothing human about it. Especially not when it's painted on the ceiling, over them all. Yet, some had not noticed it watching until now. And when they do, their eyes widen and their mouths rest agape. It's imposing. It's the overbearing roar of thunder heralding a storm; and all the puny human can do then, is have the lightning reflect in their eyes as they scurry away for shelter. It's a calamity.

❝ The sun. ❞ Upper Two looks up as well. But his eyes do not reflect the same fear that is inherent to humanity, when faced with the inevitability of a higher power. No, he looks... ecstatic. ❝ The sun that falls, every evening. He falls and leaves us in the darkness, only to rise again come dawn. And he always rises. An endless cycle, of death and rebirth; and then death, and rebirth, and death and rebirth anew, friends. ❞ Dōma's begin to move in circles with the words. He takes a few steps from one side to another and the black cloak drags behind him. And then he stops, abruptly; and a finger is held up. The tone grows somber.

❝ Do not fear to venture into the darkness. Look, look up and witness, the Moon that guides you through this endless cycle. We learn to fear the things we cannot understand, we learn to look up to the sky and despair and ask ourselves; Gods, Gods why have you done this to me? Why have you brought me this suffering? What sins have I committed to deserve this? ❞ And as he relays that, he grabs his own hair and features contort with faux despair that's worn as flawlessly as every other sentiment on them. Some of those gathered resonate with that. Some kneel. Others wipe their eyes. And of course, there's still those that hold a measure of reluctance.

His hands lower. He shakes his head, slowly.

❝ Let's unlearn that. Unlearn that here, now, with me; under the Moon's guidance, He will remind you. He will remind you that everything has a beginning and an end, and the cycle repeats, just as the day repeats, and the sun will fall and rise again over and over into eternity. My friends... ❞

Because their lives are fleeting. With a beginning and an end. Unlike the oni. Unlike those who tower above the notion of a finite existence. Unlike him; and Kokushibo; because they are impervious to sin. How can a demon sin? God — a true God with a name and a face, Kibutsuji Muzan has given them infinite chances. Who they were before, as humans; that is only one life. And now, they have infinite lives ahead of them - no, they are not even within that cycle of samsara anymore. They're above it. Outside it. Something better.

Can't Kokushibo see that? That they are already perfect. Alone, or together, it does not matter. None of them can be sinners. Not anymore.

They should be free to act upon every desire.

Including their undisclosed ones.

❝ That's who we are. That's where we come from— that's who we will be; that's what it means to have faith. That in the darkness, in the absense of light; we look to the sky and sing. ❞ His hands shake twice as they splay wide, head falling back. The black crown slips off and rolls onto the floor. No one moves to catch it. It's as if the crowd collectively holds a breath; and the prophet's voice is raised to the heavens!

❝ Restore us! ❞

Pause.

There's the faint sound of whimpering, a few sniffles. Some hide their heads and others prostrate themselves under the mural, or under the priest.

❝ -— ... and he will, my friends. ❞ He lowers his head, emphasizes the words with a nod. The voice catches at his throat. ❝ He will. ❞

And it feels oddly pointed, when his prismatic gaze reaches to the edge of the hall and lands on a specific face that stands there, among the crowd. A wolf disguised among the sheep. Just like himself. An uncanny, affectionate smile blossoms on Upper Two's features, then. And he speaks, over the sobbing crowd, to the one entity to whom this entire speech was addressed to; the one whose faith has faltered, and needs to be shepered back the most.

I know this may not have been exactly to your tastes, Kokushibo-dono.

It is far from a traditional prayer, after all.

But, if you would like, join me afterwards in my quarters.

❝ That same hand, that dealt you your hardship. That same hand, will make you whole. ❞

I would love to discuss more with you on the topic.