#which you will note is different from major character death

[astrolook]

🌙Progressed Moon Observations 🌊✨

Here's PART 1! about profections years.

Note🗣️: These are all based on my personal observations, patterns, and calculations over the years aka late-night astrology spirals, emotional chaos, and "oh wow that makes sense now" moments. I use Vedic/Sidereal astrology 🌌even though Progressed Moon and Profection years are used in both Western and Vedic systems. For me, sidereal just hits different. Whether you use western or Vedic, if it resonates, amazing! 🫶 If not, gently toss it in the cosmic trash bin and float away like a Pisces moon day 🐟🌫️Lemme know in the comments!

Let’s get lunar 🌝👇

👉First off, find out which house your natal Moon is sitting in. That house is your starting zone, your emotional HQ, for the first 0 to 2.5 years after your birth. Let's say your natal Moon is in 8th house, from there, the Progressed Moon moves one house every 2.5 years, like a cosmic Airbnb guest who's constantly evolving and leaving emotional Yelp reviews behind 🧳🌊

So:

0-2.5 yrs: House your Moon is in

2.5-5 yrs: Next house

5-7.5 yrs: House after that... And so on, till...

By age 30 - 32.5, your Progressed Moon comes full circle and returns to the same house it started in.

🦋For women, there’s usually a major shift when the Progressed Moon moves into the same house as your Sun ☀️ or Venus 💖... or even if it just aspects them (like sitting 7 houses away), Yeah, that’s often when puberty kicks in as Moon aspects the 7th house from its position as well.

⚠️When Progressed Moon meets North node especially in 6th,8th or 12th house could trigger freak accidents, sudden health scares, frequent hospital moments, etc.

💅When Progressed Moon kisses Venus it's either a glow-up or glow-down depending on the sign. Also, sexual thoughts during teenage years or first crush/love and even first kiss. For example,

🔹 Venus in Virgo: Dry skin, skin-issues, cramps, digestive drama/constipation, dermatologist visits, etc. But also the potential for insane skincare routine discipline 🧴😤 🔹 Venus in Pisces: Full-on goddess energy. Soft glow, dreamy eyes, and people suddenly asking what perfume you wear 🧚‍♀️✨ 🔹 Venus in Cancer: Emotional eating, weight fluctuations, skin acting up when you're moody. Very “crying in a face mask” era 🍰🌊 🔹 Venus in Leo: Headaches, head injury, hair issues, even random lil injuries from being too extra. But also: main character confidence unlocked 🎭🔥

🔥When Progressed Moon hits where your Mars is in, family tensions could arise. Anger issues as a teen. Picking up new hobbies or learn new things which could later progresses as something you would do later in life, working-out, etc.

🛫When progressed Moon in the same house as Jupiter is in, things start to expand like your thoughts, moving away, becoming more religious or spiritual, even meeting your future spouse. If Jupiter in Rx, might lean towards agnosticism or atheism, irreligiousness, breaking traditions, either meeting your FS or at least getting to know them like "they're the one".

📝When Progressed Moon is the house of where Mercury/Mercury Rx is in, get ready to talk more, write, sing, question, or overthink everything 🧠🎤📚 Dabbling in singing, music, voice work, or picking up a random language on Duolingo out of nowhere 🎶🗣️. Memory expansion. Might start gaming or blogging, writing, drawing or opening a soc-media account fits too.

⏳When progressed moon is where the Saturn/Saturn rx or Sun sits in, physical distance from your father or in rare cases, death of a father. Parents divorce if in 4 or 7th houses.

👩‍👧When Progressed moon return to your natal Moon, aka your lunar return, relationship with mother can bring a few things:

If the relationship with your mom is already shaky, this can be a make-or-break moment. Either full-on distance or healing through a major breakthrough 💔➡️💬

If it’s been toxic or non-existent, this transit might trigger cutting ties to protect your peace, or facing childhood stuff head-on.

If your relationship is already strong, this deepens the bond like a cozy emotional blanket. Expect heartfelt convos, support, and feeling truly seen 👩‍👧🌕

It also suggests emotional maturity, your motherhood, etc.

When your Progressed Moon slides through your profection years, this can trigger an important event like pregnancy, marriage, etc. I already made a post previously on profection years for each ASC and check yours. When your progressed Moon land on those houses, those can be significant years in your lives.

Note: Your profection houses for example could be 2,7,8,11 but you would be getting married when you're in your 5th house profection. Why?

Let's say you're a Scorpio ASC with 2,7,8,11 profection houses but you got married during your 5th house profection year. Why? Your 5th lord is Jupiter and your Jupiter could be placed in 2,7,8,11 houses which will trigger a marriage event for you.

Wanna go deeper into the layers of your placements? DM me for a complete astrology reading or a 5 year/8 year marriage report or synastry reading🌙💬 and check out my pinned post for pricing + details 💫💸

Let’s decode your cosmic chaos together ⭐

[trazodone100mg]

I'm about to start reading the light novel version of The Summer Hikaru Died, and before I do I want to get a few questions and thoughts about the series and his character out of my head since it's been nagging me.

When did Hikaru die? I've been thinking about this recently. The start of the story takes place in the summer, six months after the 'real' Hikaru has already died. I'm going off of memory alone so the details are fuzzy, but I'd like to go back and reference the manga at some point to see if any dates are listed or months named. If the summer season spans late June to late September, that would mean Hikaru died in January to April, most likely in the winter, early spring at latest. If I remember right, it was rainy and cold when Yoshiki found Hikaru's body.

The 'summer' Hikaru died could be non-literal, as in Hikaru has been dead all this time, but the person Yoshiki knew didn't begin to fully disappear and be replaced in his heart until his suspicions were confirmed that day outside the convenience store. Hikaru didn't truly die until Yoshiki--the first person to find out--was allowed to properly grieve for him over the summer the story takes place. It gets philosophical from there; what is death, and what does it really mean to 'die' in a situation like this? Etc.

I would have a few questions if the story intends to take a more literal path, however, starting first and foremost with, "If Hikaru dies in the summer, does that mean Hikaru hasn't died yet?"

When we consider the title The Summer Hikaru Died, are we only considering the 'real' Hikaru?

I know the Japanese uses different characters in the spelling of the character's name to differentiate between the 'real' Hikaru and 'Hikaru', and Yoshiki does this in his head. Which spelling does the title of the series use? All genuine questions that may hold no water, but has been interesting to think about.

I also have pretty strong feelings about Hikaru's character, if you couldn't tell. And not just 'Hikaru', but the 'real' Hikaru and how his understated and very grounded characterization and emotions inform the 'Hikaru' we know. I think the author is extremely talented to be able to convey so much about him when we have been shown so little of him so far, and I think I understand him fairly well.

The most important thing to note right off the bat; I believe Yoshiki's feelings for the 'real' Hikaru were mutual. Which, I didn't at first! And Yoshiki certainly thought his feelings were completely one-sided as well. But after contemplating their characters and the dialogue, I've come to believe that their depth makes it easy to misinterpret.

I will once again insert a disclaimer that I am working on memory alone, so feel free to correct me at any point if I am mistaken, but my reasoning is as follows:

In the oneshot pilot that serves as a first draft of the series, 'Hikaru' explains when asked that he likes Yoshiki and believes his new body played a major role in influencing his feelings, since it already liked Yoshiki before he came to occupy it. As the 'real' Hikaru is dying, he regrets that he is unable to tell Yoshiki how he really feels, and asks the entity that possesses him to tell Yoshiki that he likes him, too. 'Hikaru' also mentions the curse; that the Indou's lovers are inevitably stolen away, that it has happened in the past between two men (which, on an only semi-related note, I have a ton of other questions I won't even touch here about the previous generation of Indous and Tsujinakas, and this may be entirely off-base but I can't shake the feeling there was...something similar going on between Yoshiki's emotionally distant father and Hikaru's dad, who was his best friend), and that the 'real' Hikaru saw himself reflected in that and was frightened by it.

But that was all a part of the first draft of the story, and we know not everything carried over to the story we know now. But I do believe we can still use it to gain some insight into the author's intent.

Yoshiki describes the 'real' Hikaru as mature and not oft to show big emotions. He wasn't the type to cry, but I have come to interpret his character as somewhat numbed and depressed, and the type to deflect with humor. Here's what I think did carry over; 'Hikaru' certainly likes Yoshiki (in his own, unique way), but in dialogue expresses that he's unsure if those feelings are entirely his own, and doesn't know what pieces belong to who between the two individuals known as Hikaru. The 'real' Hikaru was scared of his feelings for Yoshiki, for a few reasons. He could become a victim of the Indou family curse, he wouldn't be able to marry Yoshiki to prevent the curse befalling him given that they are both men (Hikaru's father makes it a point to tell him that the only way to stop the curse is to marry the one you love quickly), and growing up in the country, they have witnessed second-hand the consequences of not conforming in a town where everyone knows everyone's business (more than once, but specifically: "He's not sick, he's a homosexual.")

Hikaru's father was dead, he most likely felt that he needed to suppress his feelings of love for his best friend and had no way to move forward (my mind always goes back to how Hikaru, in a flashback at the start of vol. 1, turns away from Yoshiki when telling him he could probably find a girlfriend easily if he only tried), and carried the burden of performing whatever their family ritual entailed. He didn't commit suicide, but he died carelessly and only regretted that he would be leaving Yoshiki alone, as he was the only other person to truly understand how Yoshiki felt. And maybe his death was one means of protecting Yoshiki since he couldn't deny his feelings for him.

[thequasarwinds]

I’m like pretty certain this was just a basic continuity error

similar to how Adam is described as being an infant when he was actually 4 Years old (a toddler)- which is totally fine and happens all the time in Indie stuff

it’s important to point out that that photo was brought up to show Mark’s connection to the church- Sarah was never really confirmed nor denied to be the other kid. She was never really mentioned there at all

but what we do know (at least that I’m pretty sure of) is that the photo was an old photo of Kister’s of which the other child was likely a younger sibling- and ofc reality doesn’t line up with what ever story the individual may come up with later in life- it’s important to remember how these types of things work: Kister wouldn’t have access to some random ass photo of children in front of a very specific church with it perfectly matching the story- he’d use the resources available to him.

the kid in the photo (in the canon of TMC) could very well be just some cousin or smth- or maybe even a family friend

in the canon of TMC- of which we KNOW it directly proteins to her- we know that:

The end of her email says “89”

she was in Highschool in 2007 (of which if matches up- as she’d be around 18- It seems as if Adam was also still in high school despite being 19 at the time? But there’s many plausible explanations for that)

On top of that when Adam was referring to her in Presto he said “a girl from another school”- not something like “a women I found off the internet” if she was significantly older he would’ve referred to her differently

She acts, and sounds rather young- I know there isn’t much basis behind this as there’s many things you can say to wave this away but I still feel it’s important to note. Kister deliberately chose her actor for a reason- and additionally her being any older would just be really really odd- not only are the majority of the characters that time are like young adults (19-21) but their relationships and dynamics never seem to reflect a high age gap

I do not recall Sarah ever mentioning anywhere a wish that she should’ve protected Mark- her voice message on the MCPD website only mentions that it would’ve been Mark’s 30th birthday (of which Sarah would’ve been about 15-16) and her expressing her anger and bitterness about the police

but perhaps a missed something so if I did- please provide it

regardless if she ever DID mention something like that- you’ll have to remember grief and loss doesn’t always leave one acting “logical”- and it’s actually very very common for victims

of things such as this to express a need to have done something even if at the time the individual was completely powerless to do anything. It’s very likely that she’s left with feelings of guilt- a “why me- why am I alive and he’s not” sort of deal; which can ofc lead to feelings of responsibility on the event.

I have seen some people argue “why would she care about someone she lost at three- she probably barely remembers him” so JUST in case anyone does say that- that is…kind of ludicrous- losing someone at a young age doesn’t make the impact any less. Someone still died and it still left a certain absence in the persons life. And a LOT of the grief from individuals of deaths like that can come from the fact that they DID experience the loss at a young and the pain of barely remembering them.

Additionally, we have reasons to believe Sarah and Mark’s parents were rather negligent. It’s possible that Mark was held responsible for Sarah (especially considering the large age gap), perhaps being more involved than even the parents were- which would’ve meant the loss of Mark was a little more like losing a primary caregiver for Sarah. But this is more of a vague theory- however at a certain point an alternate DOES say smth that sounds a lil like “your little sister is still asleep” to Mark- so that’s uh something I guess

I REFUSE to believe Sarah is only 20 years old because that does NOT fit the timeline at all. I've literally calculated it and she should be AT LEAST 30 years old.

PROOF:

she appears in exhibition in a photo which is from 1982 (how can she be born in 1989 when she looks at least 4 years old in 1982?)

from the proof above, that means she should be born in 1978 which makes her 31 in 2009

on the Sarah Heathcliff audio she says she should've protected Mark but if we follow the ORIGINAL birthday for Sarah then she would've been 3 years old when the incident happened so why would she say that?

ALSO in canon, the age gap is 14 years old but in the exhibition photo she looks 3-4 younger than mark

[tanadrin]

@grimogretricks

For people saying that airport security is wholly theatre and that it doesn't do any good- certainly it seems they've gone overboard on certain things, but what is your explanation as to why hijackings and terrorist attacks involving planes are MUCH less common than they used to be?

Sorry that this is mostly off the dome, and has less references than I would like. We argued this stuff to death in the aughts, though ultimately the political incentives in favor of security theater were just too great. Everyone is terrified of the potential backlash of not being seen to do enough in advance of the next big terrorist attack, I guess. And to be clear, we are talking mostly about post-9/11 airport security measures as being security theater. Some degree of airport security has been necessary since people started getting on airplanes with guns and informing the pilot that, hey, guess what, we're going to Cuba instead of Miami today.

But the big reduction in airplane hijackings came with the institution of metal detectors to keep guns off airplanes after a couple high-profile hijackings in the 1970s. But remember that these incidents were of a very different character than what we now think of as the risk to airplanes: they were certainly a problem, but the modus operandi of hijackers in this era was to force the plane to fly to a non-extradition country and land safely. 9/11-style hijackings, that used the plane as a bomb and killed everyone aboard, were on nobody's radar--when the goal was blowing up the plane and killing passengers, bombers generally used bombs planted in checked baggage, which requires different security measures from passenger screening.

Two security changes occurred after 9/11 that made future such hijackings basically impossible: one, probably most importantly, was that passengers understood they no longer could count on hijackers having an interest in surviving the hijacking. This change in passenger behavior was immediate: later that same year when a guy tried to bomb an airplane (using a really ineffective device hidden in his shoe) passengers immediately acted to restrain him. The second important change was reinforcing cockpit doors and keeping them locked: this makes hijacking airplanes with knives (the only major modality left to most would-be hijackers) functionally impossible.

All the other intense passenger screening and security measures implemented after 9/11 has been repeatedly shown by security researchers to be pretty ineffective, not even very reliable at stuff like keeping knives off airplanes. For years after 9/11 there were endless news stories about law enforcement running drills at airports and weapons making their way through security. A lot of later security measures, like liquid limits in carry-on baggage, came from terrorist plots that didn't even make it off the drawing board (and are unlikely to have ever worked anyway), and seem mostly to be overzealous ass-covering by transportation security officials.

And, finally, we should note that the real security threats to airplanes in the post-9/11 era seem to have come come from two sources that are basically impossible to protect against using traditional security methods, and for which passenger-based security screening is useless: anti-aircraft missiles and suicidal pilots (plus an honorable mention to aircraft companies trying to skirt certain regulatory requirements).

Despite what decades of American media would have you believe, elaborate plots targeting transportation infrastructure and involving like a dozen people are actually not at the top of the list of terrorist methodologies--why time and money training members of your organization to fly planes into buildings, when you can just use social media to convince a guy to drive a car into a crowd of bystanders, or stab somebody on the street? It's much cheaper, and much, much harder to guard against. Random lone-wolf terrorism is, unlike the kind of elaborate plots portrayed on TV, and one-off real-life examples like 9/11, basically impossible for security services to guard against in advance. But in order to justify the war on terror, and large budgets for security services on anti-terrorism grounds, it was necessary to play up the threat of such plots, even if by its very nature 9/11 was impossible to repeat. For similar reasons, the post-9/11 era also played up the threat of Islamic extremism and large overseas terrorist networks, even though far-right extremists acting in small groups also have managed to kill huge numbers of people in spectacular ways.

So for all these reasons, and those noted at the top, the political incentives around transportation security means that passenger screening measures in airports are almost guaranteed to be a one-way ratchet, even if they don't work. It's a bit like the fabled anti-tiger amulet--it's easy to say the lack of tigers is proof it's working! Even if the real reason there are no tigers about is that you live in Ohio. The media environment post-War on Terror helped create a public appetite for and approval of such anti-tiger amulets, too, of course. This was not by any means a purely top-down phenomenon.

[lowkeyerror]

Always There

Agatha Harkness x Vampire!Reader x Rio Vidal

Word count: 4.9k

Notes: Non-major character death, depictions of violence, graphic violent content (blood, mob violence/torture, detailed wounds), angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, small mention of suicial tendencies, italics=past

Summary: Vampire reader has had a casual relationship with Agatha and Rio, but eventually too many years pass since their last encounter, the vampire starts to wonder if they still cared for her.

An: Posting this immediately after I finished writing it. Hope you enjoy. Likes, replies, reblogs, and all of that are appreciated 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ Edit: Not me saying itallics and forgetting to actually put them lol

Masterlist

You’ve had a casual fling with Agatha and Rio for as long as you can recall. There’s a stereotype about witches coming and going as they please, and you find it to be frustratingly true.

It's easier to get ahold of Rio than Agatha, which is ironic considering that Rio is literally Death. With the title comes the job, so all you truly needed to get a glimpse of her was a body. Perhaps you could arrange the carcasses in a way that said ‘stay with me forever’.

As a vampire, you had time to wait. There was no rush, which is how you believe things got so casual. You could never forget how you met the pair.

At the time angry mobs were running rampant, looking for anyone to persecute. You were a known vampire living not to far from a village. They hunted you for sport. There were many of them that you killed, but eventually they were able to ambush you. When they did, they used wooden spikes to pin you to a large ‘X’ that they built. The scars from were they impaled your flesh still present today.

They tortured you; punching, spitting, stabbing, you had eventually lost track of time after a few hours. The need for blood weakening you enough to where breaking free was nearly impossible.

They’d come in shifts for the torture and leave only one person to watch you in the night. That was their only flaw. You didn’t expect anyone outside of the village to come across you, but someone did.

Your head was hung low, when you heard the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the ground. You raised it slightly, to see the guard that was supposed to be watching you, dead on the floor.

“You don’t look too well.”

It had been days since you had tried to speak, so your voice was hoarse, “I wouldn’t think so.”

“What are you? Only someone different, is worth all of this trouble,” a different voice spoke.

Your eyes look to where the voices are coming from, but you only see shadows. Your tongue is dry as it passes over your bloody chapped lips.

“Vampire,” you mumbled.

“Help me get her down.”

When they approached, you finally got a good look at them. You couldn’t help but stare at their features. Both youthful with rosy cheeks. Rio’s large brown eyes caught your attention immediately, warm yet hiding something. Agatha’s features were sharper, her cheekbones, her jawline, even her eyes.

“This will hurt,” Rio examined the wood embedded into your skin.

“I know,” you spoke weakly.

You expected them to pull the spikes out with their hands. Instead your eyebrows furrowed when purple and green tendrils of magic worked around the spikes. Instead of 4, painfully slow, agonizing moments, there was only one rough pull, before your body fell off of the ‘X’. Only your knees hit ground as Agatha and Rio held up the rest of your body.

Your full weight pushed against them as your head rested in between their shoulders, “Thank you.”

“Hungry?”

Your eyes glowed a dim red, “I could drain a village.”

“Bloodthirsty, even in this state?” Agatha teased.

“Especially in this state,” you corrected.

You could hardly move, but you attempted to stand on your unstable legs. You grunted in pain as you put one foot in front of the other. Your focus was on the dead guard. His heart was no longer beating, but blood still filled his veins. It was calling to you, it had been too long since you had fed.

Your fangs snack into the man’s neck viciously. You had no remorse for the corpse as his body began to lose color as you drank. He wasn’t a large man, which was unfortunate, but he sufficed for the moment.

Harsh breaths and clearing of your throat, were indicators of how much you needed that. You wiped the blood off of your mouth with the back of your hand.

Your wounds were slowly closing, but it was taking all of the energy you had just gained.

“I can heal you faster,” Rio said tentatively grabbing your forearm.

She extended it so that it’s flat, before quickly running her tongue over the spot. You looked at her as if she was crazy, but then back at your wrist. The hole from the stake was gone, in its place was only a scar.

If you had a pulse, you were sure that it would be beating wildly.

You glanced at Agatha, who watched on, “Do you do that too?”

She shook her head, “Earth witch specialty.”

“How long did they have you like that?” Rio’s eyes have examined your body, noticing the extensive damage. Her finger trailed one of the nastier slashes across your stomach.

“I don't recall,” you spoke honestly.

Rio was careful as she healed the larger wounds on your body, you told her not to worry about the less significant ones. Even when she was done you were still caked in dirt and mostly your own blood.

“Let me help you out doll,” Agatha waved her fingers swiftly, and soon you were clean as a whistle.

Your tattered clothes replaced as if they were new, dirt and blood alike removed from your body. Ugly scars, now covered except for the few that littered your face.

“Why help me? We are only strangers, I don’t even know your names.”

“Abominations to humanity must stick together lest we want them to wipe every one of us out . You can call me Rio.”

“Agatha Harkness, pleasure to save you beautiful.”

One of your eyebrows raised, “Witch killer, Agatha Harkness?”

The woman chuckled, “I see my reputation supersedes my community. Does my aura scare you…”

“Y/n, and it does not. There are no rules when it comes to preservation of self. I’ve killed my own kind for good reasons and some not so good reasons. Bodies just seem to pile up when I’m around.”

“That why they nail you up like that?” Rio questioned.

You shrugged, “I suppose, a mixture of that and fear.”

“People fear death,” she spoke.

You shook your head as you corrected her, “Mortals fear death. I know people who are thousands of years old, who run from ailments of morality. They are foolish, death cannot be outran. Though it may take longer for her to come, she will eventually get all of us.”

“You aren’t afraid to die?” Agatha questioned you.

“No, there’s no point. She’ll come for me when it’s my time, but until then what is there to fear besides a wasted life.”

Rio had a small smile on her face, “Quite the philosophy you’ve fostered. Just one question, if you feel that way, then why kill anyone in the first place?”

It was your turn to chuckle, “If someone was meant to live, they simply would. I’m not stealing life, simply gifting death to those who have decided that it is their time.”

“How do you know that they’ve decided?” Agatha counters.

“Well you see, many people are weary of vampires and they should be. They let their guard down, they get comfortable, they play with their food instead of finishing the job. Those actions have consequences and I like to deal with those consequences personally. So I suppose when they choose to wrong me, they’ve chosen to die.”

“And the villagers who did this to you?” Rio pondered aloud.

You eyed her cautiously, “Do you stand to stop me?”

Rio shook her head, “I keep a witch killer in my company, you think I’m above a rightfully earned massacre?”

“Well you spoke of solidarity amongst-”

“Think of it this way, we can do what we want amongst each other, as it is our business. The humans have no right, to do what we do.”

You nod, “I agree.”

“So, you’re going to destroy the village?” Agatha questioned.

“My goal is to drain every last one.”

After that first encounter you were drunk on the thought alone of Agatha and Rio. Finding out Rio's true identity only made you lust for her even more. You knew that both had bonded with each other in ways you hadn’t understood, but that didn't stop your feelings from developing.

It didn't take long for them to fold you into their relationship, at least partially. They weren’t always around, but when they were everything seemed to fall back into place.

However, you’d be lying if you said you hadn't been getting restless these last few years. It was feeling like you saw less of them, especially Agatha. It felt like a game of cat and mouse. Somehow you had ended up chasing after them.

Tonight you walk the streets bored, part of you looking for trouble. Rumblings of new age vampire hunters in the area had piqued your interest. So you’d have a chance to have some fun or at minimum find your next meal.

Your fingers play with the rings they had gifted you, centuries ago. In the past you could feel both of them signaling you through the jewelry. It was a faint buzz, something like a hum, through the ring. A feeling that you hadn’t felt in ages. You longed to feel it again, to feel them.

Alleyways didn’t scare you, hardly anything scared you these days. Yet as you take a step into this alley, you sense something immediately. You feel eyes on you, as you walk.

“Has anyone ever told you to be mindful of where you settle demon?”

You continue walking, the empty threat meant nothing to you.

“I know what you are, I can smell it on you,” the voice echoes against the walls.

Your ears twitch, and soon you’re holding a frail man against one of the concrete walls in the alley.

“If you know what I am, you should be more mindful of how you approach me,” your strength speaks for itself.

You don’t give him the pleasure of seeing your fangs or glowing red eyes.

“Ah, you’re one of the older ones. This will be quite fun,” he says gleefully.

“What are you-" the question dies on your lips as you feel a needle being jabbed into your neck.

Your hand instinctively shoots over the spot, and your growl in frustration. You drop the man against the wall, turning your attention to the person who stuck you from behind with the needle.

This man was much bigger than the other. He was about twice your size, but it did not matter. You bare your fangs, hissing at the muscular man.

“Why isn’t she dropping?” He yells, fear laced through his voice.

You take the moment to pounce on him. Your teeth wasting no time, sinking into his neck. The man convulses under you, but you’re stronger than him. Even when he grabs your neck you don’t relent.

“Impossible,” the frail man, whispers from his spot against the wall.

“Nice try, but-”

The sensation hits you like a truck. You feel your vision get blurry and your muscles weaken. You blink a few times trying to will yourself against the late acting sedative.

The frail man nods excessively as you begin to lose consciousness, “Slower than usual, but captured nonetheless.”

You’re jolted back into consciousness when you feel the stake being driven into your skin. You attempt to shoot out of whatever position you are in, but it only causes you a familiar pain. Unlike the first time you were nailed to something, this time it was straight up rather than ‘X’ formation. Your arms hung up straight above your head and your feet were slightly spread underneath.

One spike was used to pierce both of your hands in place while you had one for each foot. Your breathing only quickens even more upon noticing you are in a forest. This couldn’t be happening.

“Glad you could finally join us,” the frail man from earlier want alone this time. He had a group of people with him.

“Let me go, and I’ll consider sparing you one I'm free,” you say, yet no one moves.

“You hold no power here, demon,” the man walks around you. “I am doctor Helsing, you may be familiar with my ancestors.”

Your jaw twitches, “ Van Helsing.”

He chuckles, “What a smart creature you are?”

“What do you want from me?”

His chuckle turns into a boisterous laughter, “ You can't offer me anything that I don't have the ability to take.”

You glare at the people in front of you, eyes turning a vicious shade of red, “The last group of people that tried something like this, paid for their sins with their lives. I hope you’re prepared to do the same.”

“They did quite a number on you, I can tell by your markings. Their only mistake was letting such a beautiful thing like you go,” Helsing says, his hand sliding across the scar on your abdomen.

“They didn’t let me go. I got out.”

His eyes had a glint as he leaned in, “And then you killed them all, how sad.”

He stabs you in the scar. Carving harder and deeper than the previous person. You grunt, but try to steel yourself under the knife. Yet you squirm finding the sensation to be more unpleasant than you had recalled.

“Silver cuts a little different doesn’t it?” He says watching the cut pour blood.

“You’re going to regret this.”

He turns his attention to the people, “Empty threats mean nothing when a beast is tied up. Would anyone else like a turn?”

People in his crowd begin to circle around you. Some with weapons, others cracking their knuckles. You're being attacked from all sides. The pain makes you tear up, but you avoid crying.

Instead you left out a bitter laugh, “That’s all you’ve got. Come on if you're gong to torture me at least put some passion behind it.”

“Oh, we’re just getting started. I want to hear you beg for your life, I want to see you broken, beaten, defeated. I want you to ask for death and then I'll award it to you.”

You spit at Helsing, “I’m not scared of death.”

He wipes your spit off of his face, a scowl now present, “For centuries my family has been driving your species to extinction. The failures may eclipse the successes, but don't think that we were never successful. You will fall at the hands of Van Helsing, creature.”

He has a device in his hand, he shoves it into your mouth. It forces your mouth open and your fangs out. He stares at them in awe. You try to clamp your mouth shut or retract your fangs, but you are unable to. You start to panic.

“Just like a snake, de-fang the vampire and a lot of that fear is gone,” his smile is sadistic.

You feel your adrenaline sky rocket as you shake violently. Your eyes wide in terror. The wood stake ripping your skin, but the pain was nothing akin to the fright.

You don’t remember the last time you were truly this scared.

He laughs and some of the crowd laugh along with him, “Are you afraid now, demon?”

Tears fall from your eyes and he coos. You flinch at his hand touching your face. His fingers were rough and callused against the swollen skin. You move your head as if to attack him and he stumbles back.

He grabs your jaw roughly, “This is the power of man.”

“Looks like someone is having a party and forgot to invite us.”

You know that voice. It makes you close your eyes in relief. The panic you felt in the moment begins to dissipate.

Everyone looks to the sky following the sound of the voice. It’s there that they see Agatha and Rio floating in the sky. Most of the crowd has their mouths agape, not believing what they are seeing.

“Should we offer them mercy, Agatha? Maybe our invites got lost in the mail?”

“This matter does not concern you foul wenches, be gone,” Helsing says, his voice trembles a bit at the end.

It’s Agatha that cackles looking down at the man, “See that’s where your wrong because…”

Rio appears behind the man, her skeletal form on her face, “If it concerns her, then it concerns us.”

Her dagger lays on his neck and he looses his composure.

“Anyone want to be brave?” Agatha questions the crowd, who screams when she shoots her magic at a nearby tree exploding it.

“What happened? A second ago you were lining up to torture her, but now you’re scared,” Rio adds pressure to her dagger.

“Don’t get shy now, doctor. Nothing to say?” Agatha gets closer to him.

The group tries to scatter but she traps them in a circle full of fire. They’re forced to gather close to each other. Their screams make you smile.

Agatha pulls the device out of your mouth carefully. Her hand caresses your face gently. You lean into her touch.

“We have to stop meeting like this doll,” Agatha mumbles only for you to hear.

“We wouldn’t have to meet again if you stopped leaving,” you shoot back.

Agatha casts her gaze away from you and over to Helsing. She and Rio switch places. The Green Witch, uses her vines to pull the spikes out of your body. It’s a feeling that never gets easier to experience.

You land on your feet ignoring the burning sensation. With your back tall you walk over to Helsing. You crouch in front of him, despite your own agony.

You hold his eyes, “Funny, I recall you telling me I’d beg for death. Well now she’s here for me, just not in the way you expected is it?”

Rio wiggles her fingers at the doctor, “I loved dragging the souls of your family to eternal damnation, can’t wait to reunite you with them.”

“Humans are all the same, always playing with food that’s not yours,” you stand towering over the man.

“Hey I like to play with my food,” Agatha pouts.

You smile, “When you have power you can do what you want.”

You open your hand and Rio drops her dagger into your grasp. The crowd watches in panic behind the flames as you approach the man.

“However, I’ve never been one to play with my food,” in a swift motion you slit his throat.

The gasps and screams of his followers sounds like music to your ears. He gargles his own blood reaching for his neck.

“Your blood isn’t worth drinking,” you watch as he collapses. You turn to address the crowd, “None of you have worthy blood. Cowards, followers, miscreants, I hope it was worth it. The price is your life, now burn.”

Agatha waves her hand dismissively and the crowd of people are quickly evaporated. Ash and burnt grass the only remnants of the aggressors.

Upon their destruction you crumble to the floor. Your body screaming at you for the abuse you endured.

Rio starts with the wound on your stomach before healing the spiked points. Your body still aches when she’s finished, but it’s substantially less than before.

“Déjà vu isn’t it bunny?” Agatha opens the floor for conversation.

“Now isn’t the time Agatha,” Rio scolds the woman, who raises her hands in defense.

“I was just reminiscing, is that a crime?”

You stand, “Well, good seeing you. Same time… in the next few centuries or…”

“You’re hurt,” Rio argues.

“You healed me enough,” you shrug.

Agatha rolls her eyes, “What’s with the attitude princess?”

You place a hand on your hip, “When was the last time we saw each other, Agatha? Rio, you only come when I leave bodies in my wake. So sorry if I’m not thrilled it takes me being captured and tortured to get some time together.”

“It’s always been this way,” Agatha argues back.

Your voice takes on an uncharacteristically soft tone, “I know and I’m tired. I don’t want whatever this is. I need something more, something tangible. It’s fine if you don't want to give that to me, but I can't keep waiting.”

You try to keep calm as you pull the rings off of your fingers, hand out stretched to give them back to their original owners.

“Y/n…”

“Take them… please. Free me, from whatever this is. I’m grateful that you saved me on our first day and maybe the same thing happening again is fate telling me that this is our last day,” you get the courage to look at them with teary eyes.

“You don't even believe in fate,” Agatha tries to reason with you.

“How would you know, you haven't been around. Things change, people change,” you tell her.

Agatha looks to Rio for help, but The Green Witch, just keeps her eyes on you.

“That’s bullshit! If change is so real, how’d we end up right back where we started hmm? Poor little hung up bat, in need of saving and here we are like always,” Agatha’s theatrics peak through her words.

“Like always?” You repeat, in disbelief.

“Look sweetheart, I know that-"

You ball your fists at your side, “What could you possibly know Agatha? Tell me, I’m interested in hearing. Did you know I spend all my time waiting for either of you to tell me if you want me or not? I don’t sleep, I just think and think and think about finding a way to end it all without having to see either of you. Hard to kill yourself with Death keeping tabs on you, even without a heartbeat. I knew this guy was tracking me, I knew what he wanted to do, and I said fuck it. I don’t care, what’s there to live for anyway?”

“You can't be serious?” Rio doesn’t want to believe what you’re saying.

“Of course I’m serious, part of me thought that after all these years humans would be over torture, but that was foolish of me. Why would I think that you'd come to save me? I still don’t understand why you did.”

“Because we love you, you fucking idiot!” Agatha shouts at you.

You scoff, “Do you really? I couldn’t tell by the hundreds of years apart.”

“We were protecting you,” Agatha gets in your space.

“What could have possibly been protecting me? Oh no, a loving and caring environment? How ever could I have managed such domestic delights and pleasures,” your voice drips sarcasm.

“You do realize that Rio is Death, right? Her job is literally to reap souls, you aren’t the only one that doesn’t get to see her often. And me… I’m all trouble, doll. There’s not a pleasant bone in my body.”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, “Did you forget who I am? Have you had a head trauma recently, or maybe you need a refresher? I’m not the greatest either, cupcake. I just slit a man’s throat and had his followers executed.”

“By me,” Agatha points out.

“Ok and you want credit for the villages I killed too? The vampires I murdered? The people I lied to? The whores I fucked? I’m not some sweet innocent thing you picked up off of the side of the road. My ledger has had blood on it since before you killed your original coven.”

Your eyes are red as they stare into her blue ones.

“We were scared,” Rio interrupts the rising tensions between you and Agatha.

“Scared of what?” You glance at her.

“Of committing to you. Hell, Agatha and I can’t even fully commit to each other. This game of cat and mouse, it’s all we know. You’re right, you deserve more, so much more, but we don’t know how to give it. We don’t know what a domestic life looks like, we aren’t domestic people. I didn't think there would be any doubt in your head that we loved you, and maybe that just shows how fucked up we really are,” Rio monologues.

Her words hit you harshly. They make you want to start crying all over again. You cast your gaze to the floor.

“I guess that brings us back to the original point then, doesn’t it? Maybe it’s better if we just, end it here,” you can’t look at them.

“If that’s what you want?” Rio nods solemnly.

Agatha looks between the two of you, “Are you two stupid or something? You have to be if you think I’m just going to agree to this.”

“Agatha-”

“Don’t. I love you, both of you. I don’t want this to end and if that means changing the way things operate, then I guess things just have to change,” Agatha speaks seriously.

“What are yo-”

You startle when Agatha grabs your hands in both of hers. Her eyes locking fiercely onto yours. She doesn’t blink as she speaks, “Move in with me.”

“What?”

“You want time together, we can have time together. We’ve basically been together for centuries, come live with me.”

“Agatha, I think you've lost the plot,” Rio says, cautiously.

“You too Dr. Green Thumb. Let’s all move in together,” Agatha nods her head.

“That doesn’t fix everything,” you focus on her hands over yours.

She doesn’t hesitate to raise her hands to cup your face, “There’s obviously a lot to fix, but you can’t tell me this isn’t a step in the right direction. Y/n, I don’t want to- I can’t lose you. I’m not willing to let you go without a fight.”

Your face heats in her hands. Her eyes are ablaze with passion as they keep contact with yours.

You sigh and rest your forehead against hers, “I don’t know Agatha.”

Rio joins the moment, carefully wrapping her arms around your torso, “I don’t think any of us really know, but I think we’re supposed to find out together.”

“Please,” Agatha’s breath hits your lips. “Just a chance to make up for lost time. If it doesn’t work, then it doesn’t, but please don’t give up on us yet.”

Hearing Agatha beg like this tugs at your heart. You don’t want to give in this easily, but you’ve already wasted so much time.

“Ok.”

As the word falls from your lips, Agatha surges forward. You can recall the last time her lips were on yours. The warmth that they were able to send through your body. How firm she was in her kiss, not scared or uncertain as your lips moved together. She knew what she wanted and it was hard to picture a world in which she’d kiss someone she wasn’t interested in the way she was kissing you. You were the one she wanted.

Your legs grow weak, but Rio holds you steady. Her shifting grip, makes you turn to face her. Unlike Agatha she hesitates. She takes a moment to admire your features, she wasn’t in a rush. Neither were you. Rio’s kiss is softer than Agatha’s, her plush lips, move experimentally against yours. It’s not like she’s forgotten, more like she’s re-exploring. She's playful, as her teeth nibble on your bottom lip. You laugh at the sensation.

Rio rests her head on your shoulder. She extends her hands, motioning for the other witch to get closer. Agatha wraps her arms around the both of you. Her front to your back while her hands rest on Rio’s back. You’re encased by them, a feeling that is welcomed yet foreign to you.

“Promise that you'll keep me close” you say to both of them.

“Until the road ends, my love,” Agatha kisses the top of your head.

“I’ll hold you even after the road ends,” Rio kisses the base of your neck.

“Do you always have to one up me?” Agatha says to Rio.

Rio chuckles, “Sounds like a skill issue sweetheart.”

“Oh, we’ll see who has a skill issue later, when you’re begging me for help because my fingers are longer than yours,” Agatha says smugly.

Rio pulls back from you to glare at Agatha, “If you don’t want to ‘help’ me, I’ll just ask Y/n. Isn’t that right sweetheart?”

You blush at the innuendo.

“Nuh uh, bunny. I think I recall you liking my treats better, because someone has a skill issue,” Agatha sticks her tongue at Rio.

You turn an even deeper shade of red.

“You can never let an emotional moment be,” Rio says.

“Well you’re always trying to out ‘emotional’ me,” Agatha replies.

“It’s not my fault you’re not as smooth as me, mi vida,” Rio counters again.

Agatha throws her hands up, “I know Spanish and Latin too, you’re not special Vidal.”

Rio raises an eyebrow, “And who taught you?”

The back and forth makes you laugh, “Are you sure you don’t do domestic, because you bicker like an old married couple?”

They both huff at your statement.

“We’ll continue this at home,” Agatha points at Rio.

The brown eyed woman puts her hand over her heart in faux-fear, “Oooo, I’m terrified.”

Agatha opens a portal to her house and both women step through. Not stopping their bickering for a second. You smile as you watch them, feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time.

“The portal isn’t going to stay open forever, bunny, come on,” Agatha reaches her hand to pull you through.

You take it, stepping into your new beginning.

[impishjesters]

Pomni, Kinger, Caine & Jax's reaction to their s/o abstracting

warning(s): angst, hurt no comfort, self-blame, "death" of the reader, implied "death"/abstraction of another character (spoiler: Kinger), hopeful outcome note(s): There's nothing incredibly heavy or detailed, just tread carefully if "death" is something you are sensitive to, please. The "hopeful outcome" implies that Caine will at some point in time be able to fix those who've abstracted. A/N: I was feeling particularly cruel and wanted to write some angst, this came to mind and I'll be honest. I made myself a little sad.

Pomni

She never saw it coming, of course, you were acting different lately but she didn’t think it would… lead to you abstracting…

It took forever for things to get some semblance of normalcy, and you being with her was a major part of it.

Sure the relationship in a place like this was a bit, weird, but you cared about her, and she cared about you.

You kept her sane and grounded, so when you were found abstracted? It felt like she failed you.

Ragatha tries to assure her that you aren’t completely gone. Like Kaufmo you’re being kept in the cellar. Caine claims the abstracted are being kept there until he can find a way to “fix” them. (Whether he’s genuine or not though, none of them know.)

It’s all empty promises though, she still feels like she failed you.

Kinger

Not again…

Kinger silently promised himself not again, he was fine being friendly with everyone else that fell into the circus, but he had no intentions of being more than that.

But then you happened, and while he was still in shambles from the time and the insanity spent here, you were there beside him. Like a knight in shining armor.

He hadn’t been around when you abstracted, in fact, he didn’t know you abstracted until there was yelling, and boom an abstraction was causing chaos.

Kinger didn’t know who it was until it was sent off to the cellar, actually, he didn’t know who it was until he realized everyone was present except you.

There’s a high probability that losing someone again, losing you, is what ends up being his own downfall. The other’s (not including Jax) try their all to get him to calm down but it’s not enough, it’s too late…

Caine

Of all the humans to be pulled in he never once got attached.

This was never supposed to happen, he’s incapable of love.

Caine does his best to keep the humans from abstracting, and as many eyes as he has over the place, there are always ones that slip through his grasp.

Of course, he’s not around when you abstract, it takes a bunch of hooting and hollering from everyone before he shows up and oh hey an abstraction.

At an immediate glance, he knows it’s you, abstractions never remotely look like the person they were before but he knows it’s you. You don’t recognize him as you lash out, of course you don’t, you can’t.

He’s unsure about tossing you with the others in the cellar, there’s nowhere else he can truthfully keep you without causing problems. So into the cellar, you go.

Caine visits you though, not for long but he does check in on you. Not that anything changes, but out of all the abstractions down there, he knows exactly which one is you.

You’ll be the first human he fixes as soon as he’s able to.

Jax

His s/o abstracted? Nice joke, though it’s in poor taste. You’re completely fine, he just saw you earlier.

Jax doesn’t believe it until he sees it, and seeing it absolutely ruins him. He’s seen countless others get abstracted and thrown into the cellar, but why, why does it have to be you?

Why couldn’t it have been literally anyone else? He didn’t give a shit about anyone else, the one person he cared for, and you…

Similarly to Pomni, he feels it’s his fault like he could’ve, no should’ve done more. Was he so wrapped up in everything else that he didn’t notice the signs? Why didn’t you talk to him? You didn’t, didn’t do that on purpose, did you?

For the first time ever, the others are genuinely worried about Jax, they all saw/know how much you meant to him. The two of you even spoke fondly about what the two of you would do if you got out of the circus.

For a while Jax becomes even more irrational and unhinged, they try not to hold it against him too badly, even when he oversteps. He’s grieving and none of them know just how long that’ll go on.

Jax isn’t quite the same afterward, but he makes sure that nobody else tries to worm their way into his heart.

If it’s possible, he’ll make sure Caine fixes you the second he’s able to. Even if Caine can fix only one person, it’s going to be you.

[7s3ven]

YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN, KID. platonic! task force 141

( short one shot that I randomly came up with after seeing a tiktok )

full masterlist

IN WHICH… night after night, you seek the comfort of your teammates until they can no longer offer you any.

“You’re on your own, kid. You always have been.”

Notes: character death, a little angst, no happy ending (sorry guys 😞), reader suffers from trauma, platonic! tf 141 x reader, reader has sleeping problems, not following the canon plot

—

You never slept well. No matter how soft your mattress was or how heavily your blankets weighed down on you, you just couldn’t drift off. The temperature in your room was perfect, the silence was comforting, your body was exhausted and yet your mind refused to turn off. It replayed the bloody moments you tried so hard to tune out, haunting you until you forced the thoughts away.

With slow movements, you begrudgingly shifted out of bed, soft pillow in hand. Your footsteps were quiet as you dragged yourself towards the small living room in the apartment you shared with your team.

The tiny room was lit up by only a dim lamp as you paused in the doorway, staring at your captain. He sat on the edge of the couch, reading a page of newspaper. Gaz and Soap were at each other’s sides, squished by Ghost who took up the majority of the space.

Captain John Price beckoned you forward. “Couldn’t sleep?” He whispered, careful not to disturb the rest of his soldiers. You took your head before wedging yourself between Ghost and Soap, forcing the masked soldier to move to offer you space. The large blanket your teammates were sharing engulfed you as you clumsily threw it over your body.

Ghost grunted, half awake as he shifted to the side. His heavy body fell onto you, resting his head on your shoulder. You leaned into his embrace. You heard the quiet click of the lamp being turned off, engulfing the room is darkness.

From your position squeezed between Ghost and Soap, you felt safe. Your eyes fluttered closed as you took a deep breath, the strong smell of Gaz’s cologne overwhelming your senses. And yet, it soothed you more than the lavender perfume you sprayed in your room.

Your lips curved into a small smile as your racing heart calmed down. Stuck in Soap’s tight grip, listening to Price’s quiet snores, hearing Gaz’s soft sleep mumbling, and feeling Ghost’s slow breaths on your neck, it felt like home.

Returning to the apartment without the rest of your team felt strange. You opened the door, staring at the interior. Your gaze trailed over the obnoxiously bright table cloth Soap had chosen and the large beer glasses left on the kitchen counter by Price.

You slowly blinked before shutting the door behind you. You half-heartedly expected Ghost to appear out of nowhere and offer you a short greeting like he always did. He did not.

Your team was dead. You were the lonesome survivor of the attack.

Your bag fell to the floor with a loud thud and you weren’t bothered to pick it back up. Your arms were not strong enough to withstand the weight anymore.

As if it was second nature, you trailed over to the liquor cabinet. You didn’t drink much so the cupboard was usually filled with Price’s beers and an occasional bottle of vodka provided by Soap. You grabbed the vodka, disliking the bitter taste of beer.

You didn’t bother to pour the alcohol into a cup; you simply popped the bottle open and gulped mouthfuls of it down. “Sorry, Johnny.” You muttered to yourself as you slumped in a seat, knowing how your teammate hated it when people stole his stuff.

The thoughts of your friends didn’t bother you as much during the day, where you could overwhelm yourself with unpacking and work. But when night hit, you felt yourself drowning in emotions.

You weren’t usually an emotional person, having been through the rigorous army training. Soldiers died everyday and you moved on like it was nothing, leaving a small gap in your mind to grieve for them. But this was different. This was your team, your family.

This was about Price who always assisted you when you needed something, who fixed your broken window when Soap accidentally hit it with a rugby ball. Who acted like an overprotective dad when you brought back a boy.

Soap who brought you snacks without the need to ask while you occupied yourself with paperwork, who somehow taped every concert of your favourite artist and showed you it with a bright smile.

Ghost who knew exactly how you liked your tea and bought you new cups to drink out of when your favourite wore down. Who secretly hated horror movies yet watched each and every one with you.

And Gaz who always returned with a new product to ease you into a more peaceful slumber and who didn’t mind staying up to comfort you from your late night terrors.

They were your closest friends and you missed them terribly to the point where your chest ached. You always hated when Soap raided the snack stash in your room but you’d do anything now to yell at him again.

You collapsed in your bed, exhausted and your body painfully throbbing. You closed your eyes in hopes of drifting off but your attempts were fruitless. You needed your teammates. You needed to sit on that damn couch in the living room with a blanket pulled up to your chin.

The hallway was pitch black as you walked into the lounge, peering through the darkness. It felt odd not to see Price reading his newspaper; your heart clenched at the short reminder that you would never see him again.

You tried to pretend the colorful pillows were your friends as you lay on the couch, that the smell of Gaz’s cologne wafting from one of the pillows was Gaz himself.

It tricked your mind into thinking they were beside you and you fell into an empty slumber.

As the last remaining member of Task Force 141, Laswell originally wanted to add new recruits with you as their leader. You would have gladly taken up the position if it weren’t for your circumstances. Replacing your former teammates would have pained you beyond repair.

As a result, Laswell moved you to a new squad and as thankful as you were when they understood your hesitation, you still refused when they offered you a place in their apartment.

You needed the couch that sat in the living room, collecting dust, in order to fall asleep. You needed Gaz’s cologne, Price’s strange collection of newspaper, Ghost’s spare masks, and Soap’s stupid rugs to calm your horrible thoughts.

You needed the apartment to stay the same, like your teammates had never left, to ignore the images of their bloodied faces engraved in your head.

“L/N, have you completed the paper work?” Your captain asked as he paused by your desk. It felt odd to look up and not be greeted with a beard.

“Yes, sir. Here it is.” You handed him the file with a tight-lipped smile.

“As efficient as ever, L/N.” He complimented you.

“Thank you, sir.” You nodded your head in appreciation.

“How are you doing with your…” He trailed off, not knowing how to word his question in a way that didn’t sound rude.

He meant your trauma, your nightmares, your grieving pain.

“I’m fine.” You say a little too quickly for him to believe you. Nevertheless, he doesn’t question the crack in your voice or the way your eyes dart around. He simply tilts his head.

“Take a break, L/N. I’ll deal with your paperwork for a day.” He places a business card on your desk, tapping on it. “If you need additional support, don’t hesitate to ask.”

You glanced down at the card as your captain exited your office. Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment as you realised he had given you a therapist’s card. Was your grief you had been trying to strategically hide that obvious? Well, at least he cared enough to offer you help.

Your short run to the grocery store was lonely to say the least. You dropped the bags the moment you walked into the apartment, staring at the cold kitchen and living room.

The tea bags that you hated but Ghost loved fell to the ground, scattering over the tiled floor. You promised yourself you would unpack the groceries later but as the sun set and the sky darkened, the plastic bags still sat by the door. It was usually Gaz’s job to deal with the groceries.

You knew any attempt to sleep in your own bed would be useless so you gathered your blankets and pillows without any thought, pacing towards the living room.

You let out a loud scream when you came face to face with Ghost.

“Aye, what yer yelling ‘bout, Bonnie? It’s just us.” Soap uttered. You peeked around Ghost, spotting Gaz and Price already on the couch.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Price asked.

You knew this was only your mind feeding you delusions, messing with you, but you were too tired to care. All you needed was them and if it took talking to your imagination, you’d take it.

[onceinablueberrymoon]

one final game: nocturne no. 2 | husband!salesman x mom!reader

scenario: it’s time. gi-hun and the salesman play russian roulette. unbeknownst to them, you’re listening in. setting: during season 2, episode 1; directly after stick to the plan (please read this first!) warnings: character death; major deception/betrayal; mentions of pregnancy; sex is heavily implied, but nothing graphic; major fluff; fem!reader; second person POV; if you like gi-hun, i’m sorry; spoilers for season 2, episode 1! word count: 2.7k  notes: the end is finally here! thank you for all the love you’ve given this series. both this ending and swan lake start the same way and diverge at around halfway through the russian roulette scene. i would love to know what you thought of this ending! please enjoy! this is one of two endings to the intentionally by chance series. you can find the other here: swan lake. borders by @enchanthings-a!

Thump. Thump thump.

Your heart was racing.

Soon after your husband left the room, you tried to distract yourself by caring for your son. Thankfully, he was calm, his eyes heavy with sleep as you rocked him in your arms. Even though he was resting against your chest, he didn’t seem to notice your pounding heartbeat, which you were grateful for. The last thing you needed was a crying baby.

Your thoughts wandered to Gi-hun, who didn’t know what he was about to walk into. 

Or maybe he did, you wondered. 

While unlikely, it was possible that he figured out that the salesman’s baby was Min-seok. But then you reminded yourself that this was Gi-hun. He wasn’t exactly the most observant person. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that grew in your chest.

As the minutes ticked by, Min-seok had finally fallen asleep. You gazed at his face, pure and innocent. A stark difference from his parents, who were instrumental in the deaths of thousands of people. Would he grow up to be the same? To harm with no mercy, to act purely for his own gain? Or would he reject his family’s past and fight to help others, including those who no longer deserved a chance?

Like Gi-hun, you thought. 

You had to keep reminding yourself that, although well-intentioned, Gi-hun was foolish. He had won the Games and gotten his money. Why was he so obsessed with stopping them now? Even though he had told you his plan to catch the salesman, he never revealed how he would stop the Games themselves. 

Perhaps that��s what drew him to you after your first meeting. His blind faith. 

Even after the Games, where he had seen his childhood friend die in his arms, he had faith that things would work out. As time went on, he eventually placed his trust in you. 

In return, you had betrayed him. Used his intel to manipulate him effortlessly, to play him like a fiddle. His faith in you had made him none the wiser.

When you had first devised this plan to help your husband, you had no intention of meeting Gi-hun regularly. You had one goal: to learn about his plans. But then, you met Seong Gi-hun. Even though you were a complete stranger, he showed you nothing but kindness. He had somehow wormed his way into your heart, and it had made everything so difficult. 

You hated to admit it, but a part of you actually cared for Gi-hun. Over the past year and a half, you thought nothing of it, that meeting with him was just your job. That you didn’t actually care if anything happened to him. 

But now? Knowing that this would be the end?

You were terrified. 

Terrified for him, but also for your husband.

Gi-hun had been searching for him for almost two years by now, and even though you knew your husband could protect himself, your heart ached at the thought of losing him. 

You let out a deep sigh. Now that Min-seok had fallen asleep, you settled him into his bassinet. 

Gi-hun should be arriving any minute, you thought. You were drawn to the front door, so you walked over.

Opening it slowly, you checked for any noises. 

Silence.

Looking back at the bassinet, you took a deep breath. Min-seok will be fine for a few minutes. 

The anxiety of the whole situation was eating at you. Closing the door with a soft click, you quietly climbed the rear stairs of the motel.

Room 410.

You tiptoed up to Gi-hun’s room, freezing when you heard voices. Gi-hun had arrived.

Pressing your ear against the door, you listened intently.

“Seong Gi-hun-ssi. Do you think you’re special because you won the game?” You heard your husband say, his voice hostile. 

A pause.

“Someone like you could never know or understand how I made it out of there alive.” Gi-hun’s words were quiet, but sent chills down your spine.

You heard the faint click of a gun, but no gunshot. 

Then, in his usual recruiter tone, your husband said, 

“Let’s play a game.”

The muffled melody of Time to Say Goodbye caused your body to tense. As your husband explained the rules of Russian Roulette, you felt your breathing quicken.

“But I’d like to make this game a little more serious. Because you’re special, Seong Gi-hun-ssi.”

Your mind raced. You knew he was tasked with killing Gi-hun, but why did he choose this game again?

“We’ll take turns pulling the trigger without spinning the cylinder again. The bullet will be fired within six attempts, and the game will be over.”

Your breath hitched, your vision blurred. 

Was he insane? You screamed internally. There was such a high chance of death – 1 in 6. You felt dizzy. How could he do this to himself? To you? To your family?

Shuffling could be heard behind the door. Who was going first?

Click.

Your heart stopped. No gunshot. 

But no talking either. You were in the dark.

Click.

Nothing but music in the background.

Then, a voice. Your husband’s.

“My wife and I always wondered how you made it out of there alive,” he chuckled. “For one thing, you were even terrible at ddakji.” 

Your heart caught in your throat.

“A monster like you has a wife?” Gi-hun’s raspy voice was laced with confusion.

You heard a scoff. 

“You might know her… ” Your husband said coolly. “Unfortunately, she’s preoccupied with our son.”

Another chuckle.

“You might know him too.”

You didn’t need to be in the room to feel the sheer weight of your husband’s words. You heard Gi-hun’s soft gasp, the pressure of it crushed your heart. 

Now, Gi-hun knew. 

Knew of your betrayal, of the lies, and of the coincidences that hadn’t really been coincidences at all. 

This wasn’t how you expected to feel.

Click.

For a brief moment, you had forgotten about their game, that they could die at any moment.

There had been three clicks so far, if you recalled correctly.

A clatter of what you presumed to be the gun falling on a table shook you from your thoughts. 

Seconds passed. Again, no talking. Only the sound of music.

Click.

Still, no gunshots. You were surprised. Usually, the gun would have gone off by now. 

Your husband’s voice chimed in again. 

“What’s the matter? Is your mind starting to race?” He teased. “Now your odds of death are 1 in 2. That’s pretty high indeed.”

You guessed it was Gi-hun’s turn to shoot.

Your husband continued, “I’m sure you’re afraid. Lots going through your mind.” 

Gi-hun didn’t respond.

“Let me guess what you’re thinking right now. ‘The gun is in my hand. Screw the rules. Pull the trigger once or twice, and I can blow this guy’s face off.’” He paused. “Isn’t that ri-”

Click.

No gunshot. 

Your eyes widened. Did he just..?

You heard the clatter of the gun falling on the table. Your husband made a tutting sound. 

“It seems your luck has finally run out, Seong Gi-hun-ssi.” 

Gi-hun must have shot at your husband, but the gun didn’t go off. The bullet was in the last chamber.

A 1 in 2 chance.

“I never understood what my wife saw in you,” your husband remarked. “To me, you were simply a piece of trash, just like everyone else. A piece of trash who got lucky and made it out of the dumpster.” 

You heard the shuffle of clothing. 

“Even so, she kept meeting with you. Every day, she had something to say about you. Your friendships, your stories, your plans…” He sighed. “I could never understand why, until now.” 

You started to feel dizzy, your hand grasping the doorknob to steady yourself. You silently turned the knob to open the door. 

From your obscured view, you saw your husband standing in the far corner of the room. He was facing the window, the loaded gun in his hand. Gi-hun was seated at a table, his posture rigid as he took in your husband’s words.

“Your naivety. Your blind trust in everyone. Your foolishness.” He let out a chuckle. “She found it so endearing. So easy to manipulate. You trusted her in a heartbeat.” 

He shrugged. 

“I was skeptical at first. But then I realized that you wouldn’t have been able to hurt her even if you wanted to. She had you wrapped around her finger.”

Gi-hun’s silence spoke volumes. 

“You say that I’m an underling, that I’m just a dog who wags my tail for my superiors.” Your husband tilted his head slightly, still facing the wall. “I’d say you’re in no position for such remarks.”

Your husband’s tone was eerily calm. Too composed for the situation at hand.

“You told her everything she needed to know, everything I needed to know.” 

He huffed a laugh. 

“If she asked, you gave. And you were so willing. Willing to please her.” 

A pause.

“To please me.” 

Your husband whirled around, pointing the gun straight at Gi-hun’s head. His expression was smug, an eyebrow quirked.

“Who’s the dog now?”

Bang!

Gi-hun’s head drooped to the side, his body lifeless. You were in shock, unable to move after witnessing the murder in front of you. 

It was only when your husband spoke that you snapped out of your trance.

“Did you enjoy the show?” He asked, an amused lilt to his voice. 

You didn’t know what to say, so you said nothing. Words couldn’t express the swirl of emotions inside your mind.

Your husband came to your side, gun still in hand. Even though it was no longer loaded, you flinched at the sight of it so close to you.

He used his unoccupied hand to lift your chin slightly to force you to make eye contact. 

“It had to be done. For our jobs, and for our family.” His voice was steady, unflinching.

You nodded, but felt tears form in your eyes. 

He was right, you reasoned with yourself. If Gi-hun found a way to interfere with the Games, who knows what would have happened? Your involvement would have likely been discovered, and you and your husband would have been thrown in jail. Min-seok would have been left all alone.

Min-seok.

Your thoughts flitted to your precious baby boy, sleeping soundly in his bassinet and unaware of everything that had just transpired. He was your top priority. All of this was for his safety. For his future. 

You couldn’t bear the thought of him navigating this world without you.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you kissed your husband’s cheek. A bit of blood stained your lips, the metallic taste a sharp reminder of his transgressions. 

You had to keep moving forward. 

“We should get going before anyone sees us,” you murmured. Your husband nodded, a soft smile gracing his lips. 

“We shouldn’t keep Captain Park waiting.”

Four months later.

The sun rays filtered through the blinds, their soft glow bathing you and your husband in light. Even though it was early in the morning, you had been up for some time. 

“Ah,” you gasped when he lightly nipped at your collarbone, his head buried in the crook of your shoulder. You were perched on his lap, your back against his bare chest. A groan escaped your lips as he trailed kisses up along your neck. You leaned into his touch, his warmth enveloping your entire body. 

In an effort to ground yourself, you gripped the bedsheets with one hand and placed the other on your stomach. The slight swell was barely noticeable, but its presence unmistakable. 

You craned your neck to kiss your husband on the lips. He smiled, placing his hands on top of yours on your stomach. The two of you stayed like that for a while, basking in the afterglow of your love.

A cry from another room shook you from your dreamy haze.

Min-seok must have woken up, you thought as you started to untangle yourself from your husband. But he was quicker.

“I’ll get him,” he said, slipping into a pair of sweatpants that rode low on his hips. He was gone before you could protest.

Min-seok’s cries soon quieted, only to be replaced by the gentle sound of waves outside.

You got out of bed, tying your robe around you before walking out to the balcony. The fresh, salty air of the sea always cleared your mind. 

Shortly after your brief stay on the island where the Games took place, you and your husband were relocated to Busan. The investigation into Gi-hun and Mr. Kim’s deaths was still ongoing. With Woo-seok alive, the Frontman didn’t want to take any chances, so you had been assigned to work in Busan for the time being. 

You welcomed the change in lifestyle. The city was more laidback than Seoul, and your husband didn’t seem as stressed in his job as a recruiter. You loved living by the sea and waking up to the calming lull of the waves. 

Gazing out at the seascape, your fingers danced along your small bump. You were only a few months along. Thinking back, you believed you had conceived the night you escaped Seoul. The night Gi-hun was killed. 

The pure adrenaline of murdering Gi-hun and Mr. Kim had flipped a switch in your husband. As soon as you had settled into your room on the island, he had pounced on you immediately, unable to hold back after hours of build-up. It was no wonder you had gotten pregnant. 

You brought your hands up to caress your belly. You were happy now, despite all the horrible events that had occurred. Even though you had made your peace with Gi-hun’s death, you secretly wished that he didn't have to die. That there might have been some way for him to live. 

Looking down at your stomach, you sighed. It was thanks to him that your husband had lived and that you were expecting your second child. 

The sound of footsteps made you turn around. Your husband was approaching you, a fussing Min-seok in his arms. 

“He’s hungry,” your husband said, passing your son to you. You scoffed as you loosened your robe to nurse. Impatient, your son latched on immediately. 

You adjusted your hold on him before looking at your husband. 

“You know he can eat some solids now, right? I’ve shown you how to prepare baby food before.”

Your husband smiled teasingly. “I think he just wanted you.” He kissed your head and rested his head on your shoulder. The two of you watched your son feed in comfortable silence.

Once Min-seok had finished feeding, he dozed off.

“I’ve been thinking about that night,” your husband mused. “If 456 followed the rules… I wouldn’t be here with you.” He brought a hand up to brush his fingers through Min-seok’s fluffy hair. 

“Our lives would have been very different,” you said thoughtfully. “Would you have followed through? If Gi-hun did follow the rules?”

Your husband didn’t respond. 

He just kissed your cheek and wrapped his arms around your waist, careful to mind your growing bump.

“He chose to break the rules, and that choice gave us a chance at a brand new life.” His hands tightened slightly around your stomach. You felt him lift his head to peer down at Min-seok, fast asleep on your chest. 

“You gave me the opportunity to be a father, something I had never dreamed of being. Now, I couldn’t imagine life without you and Min-seok.” His voice dropped to a murmur. “I could never thank you enough.”

You exhaled, your heart melting from your husband’s words. He wasn’t one to express his feelings so openly, so you were especially touched that he confided in you.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” you spoke softly, a blush forming on your cheeks. “I love you.”

He chuckled.

“I love you too.”

He returned his head to the crook of your shoulder, and gently kissed your neck. You let out a laugh, and felt him smile against your skin.

In that moment, you wished time could stand still, with your husband by your side, your son in your arms, and the swell of new life growing inside your womb. 

As you gazed out at the Busan seascape, you felt yourself let go of your worries. After everything you had been through, all the pain, all the suffering, one thing rang true. You wouldn’t change the world for anything. 

but maybe you’re a little curious? 👀 what if gi-hun had followed the rules? check out the other (canon-compliant) ending, swan lake!

tags: @muchwita @hkssfjsjs @ruby-the-scholar @beebeechaos @preppyfella @buckitostan @luvr4miya

[thecouchsofa]

It might be March, but better late than never!

While I posted more fic in 2024 (see my 2024 year in fic) than I ever have before, I also read an absolute shitload. Below the cut are some of my favourites that were published in 2024, arranged by word count.

As always, there is an absolute wealth of talent in this fandom and the amount of goodness we have here never ceases to amaze me. The fics below all really did it for me in a number of different ways. Though my opinion is subjective, I will happily vouch for all of them. Happy reading! 📚

❤️🩵💛💚

🌹Way to go, Tiger by @houndsinhades | G | 2k | 🌹

The time will arrive for the cruel and the mean You'll learn to bounce back just like your trampoline But now we'll curtail your curiosity In sweetness Way to go, Tiger Scorpius Malfoy's seventh birthday.

Read for: Scorpius at his best, Wholesome Parent/Child Relationship, Draco after the War

Note: This is technically a gen fic, but it gives major Drarry vibes so I’m putting it here anyway

🌺The game's the game by @hogwartsfirebolt | M | 3k | 🌺

Draco might be — definitely is — the world’s sorest loser, but he’s also the world’s biggest slut for Quidditch excellence, and he has it right here, holding him against his hotel room door.

Read for: Quidditch Rivals Harry and Draco, Friends with Benefits, a full story told expertly in a low word count

🌻 The sun between us by @eleadore | E | 7k | 🌻

Draco Malfoy, an omega. It was laughable until he was right in front of you, smelling like he was one shaky step from tripping into a heat.

Read for: Omegaverse, Snarky Banter, Good Characterisation (yes, I’m putting that on a PWP)

🌼 Apophenia by b6p592l11 | T | 12k |🌼

Out of the many things Sirius expected to happen after the war, having to deal with his godson dating a Death Eater was definitely not one of them.

Read for: Sirius Lives, Sirius POV, Draco/Regulus Parallels

���The Window by @hoko-onchi-writes | E | 15k |🌷

“I swear all you ever talk about is men.” Ron laughs and vanishes the last of the joint. “Sweet fucking Christ,” Harry says. “Remind me to never involve you in my life in any way, ever again.” He gives Harry a very handsome grin. “Padma said she saw him. At a Tesco’s.” “Who?” “Draco sodding Malfoy.” “At a Tesco’s,” Harry repeats. He’s very stoned, having an out-of-body experience imagining Draco Malfoy in a Tesco’s, holding a frozen dinner. He wonders, very briefly, what Malfoy’s been up to since the war. “I bet you wish you had a map of that Tesco’s. So you could track his name.” “Fuck off.” ~~ In which Harry grows up in darkness, falls in love, fucks up, learns some things, and falls in love again.

Note: this story also features Harry/Charlie, but it is endgame Drarry

Read for: Character Study (Harry), Adorable Scorpius, this line that I want tattooed on my prefrontal cortex: "There’s a very blond man with a laptop, and an equally blond toddler wearing a Wiggles t-shirt and brandishing a trashy romance novel like a weapon."

🪻Je te reverrai by @soliblomst and art by @kk1smet | E | 16k |🪻

When Beauxbatons visited Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament, Draco managed to control his attraction to fourteen-year-old Harry Potter. When Beauxbatons returns three years later for a cultural exchange, Draco's attraction to seventeen-year-old Harry Potter is impossible to curtail. In his defence, Harry's perfectly tailored blue robes, mixed signals, and French accent do not help.

Read for: Beauxbatons Harry, French Speaking Harry, Gorgeous Art

🌹Nine Days in Coventry by @sitaz | G | 16k |🌹

When a de-aged Draco Malfoy is discovered in Knockturn Alley, the Ministry appoints Family Liaison Officer Potter as his emergency guardian. Whisked away to a Muggle safehouse, Draco does not cope well, and Harry learns just how hard life can be when a five-year-old declares war on you.

Read for: De-aged Draco, Draco being a brat (but so cute), Harry taking care of Draco, Pre-Relationship

🌺 The most he’s ever said by @fastbrother | E | 16k |🌺

It takes them twenty years.

Read for: Down and Out to Redeemed and Competent Draco, Draco-centric, the Situationship of a Lifetime

Warning: Infidelity, but not between Drarry

🌻You And Me Against The World by @dracowillhearaboutthis | T | 17k |🌻

When Draco finally meets his soulmate, he doesn't want anything to do with Draco.

Read for: Soulmarks, Partial Canon Rewrite, Remus raises Harry, Draco and Theo friendship

🌼Equally Cursed and Blessed by @moonflower-rose | E | 18k |🌼

Harry's back at Hogwarts to attempt his final year, again. This time he's sure there'll be no shenanigans. Well. Maybe there'll be a few.

Read for: Draco’s artsy porn collection, Humour, Harry and Ron’s ride or die friendship

🌷Goodbye, Old You by harDeehar (dryrsheet) | E | 19k |🌷

As an alpha, Harry Potter should not have been an assistant for the newly minted Diversity department, and he definitely should not have been working under Draco. Draco seemed to be the only person who thought Harry was suspicious, but he was used to taking care of things on his own, anyway. Luckily, Draco was not as alone as he thought, and his understanding of Harry's intentions turned out to not be the only misjudgement Draco made.

Read for: Omegaverse, Coworkers, Mpreg

🪻Raising Hell! by @wolfpants | E | 21k |🪻

Harry and Draco are sent undercover as a married couple to investigate a dodgy Muggle love cult. Something evil is lurking in Glastonbury… but to get to it, the reluctant partners must be initiated first. And this is, after all, a love cult…

Read for: Case Fic, Competent Draco, Muggle Sex Cults, Good Smut

🌹The Superfluous Man by peu_a_peu | E | 24k |🌹

A child for Harry Potter is a miracle of magic. And it's the second act of Draco Malfoy's sorry little life.

Read for: Mpreg, snappy writing style, a pre-2015 feel

🌺On the divine agony of longing by @flimsi | E | 25k |🌺

Speaking to Draco is like poking a beehive - and Harry is a glutton for punishment. In which Harry makes some serious blunders and then tries to fix it. Somehow. Draco’s eyes narrow and his mouth purses, pretty and pink and wet from whatever he’s been drinking. “Any mediocre time is better than whatever you can you offer, Head Auror Potter. We’ve had this conversation. I thought I made myself clear.”

Read for: Magically Powerful Harry, Possessive Pining Harry, Competent Draco

🌻Antelucan Ruins by @rainjulyx | E | 29k |🌻

From the bloody Prophet, Draco discovers Harry Potter’s death splashed in grey ink printed on the front page. Potter is dead before Draco gets to see him again to fulfil a half-spoken promise. And yet, these days Draco has the power to bend the world to his heart’s desires, and that includes fucking Harry Potter even after he personally saw Potter’s pale, lifeless body lying in a coffin before it got buried under the soil. — "Do you realise that you're just as pathetic and insane? You're so hung up on the idea of me that you'd fuck a ghost, Malfoy. You risked your life for it." Draco puts an arm around Potter's body, "Whoever says I am sane? Certainly not me. It's calculated risk with more success rate than failure. And you are dead, Potter. You refuse to move on to the next realm because you crave for my cock."

Read for: BAMF Draco, Ghost Harry, a surprisingly hopeful tone considering one of them is pretty dead

🌼The only thing worse than heartbreak is Vermont by @jtimu | E | 31k |🌼

In the aftermath of a failed relationship, Draco Malfoy found himself with three things. His pride (tattered), Theo's luggage (stolen), and an all-inclusive couples' vacation package to Vermont (awful).

Read for: Lumberjack Harry, Banter, International Location

🌷Skipping Stones by @whimsibeee | M | 34k |🌷

Draco receives his very own prophecy. If Harry Potter could leave him alone, he might be able to figure out what it means.

Read for: Coming of Age vibes, Cosy Atmospheric writing, Complicated Family Dynamics

🪻Obscuro by @stratigraphywrites | E | 35k |🪻

Draco is grieving. His conversation partner is here against his will. It's a shameless rip-off of an insipid Muggle reality dating show. Hardly the occasion for true love, if you ask Draco. feat. a cat named Marmalade, a bird named Mumble, Lee Jordan's answer to Love is Blind, and two best friends who only want their dads to be happy.

Read For: Game Show Format, Hidden Identity, Good Smut, Epilogue Compliant

🌹Invito by PrinceMalice | E | 36k |🌹

Draco mused on the possible first use of the charm. What had the wizard been calling for? The text didn’t specify. As for the etymology— the meaning of the word itself was derived from I call, I summon— or the Hungarian variation of the incantation… To invite. Or, Harry keeps inviting Draco places. Draco keeps turning him down… until he doesn't.

Read for: Eighth Year, the sweetest unfolding of a relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Party Games

🌺Gemini in Retrograde by @citrusses | T | 38k |🌺

Draco Malfoy doesn’t understand his son. Scorpius Malfoy doesn’t understand his father. It’s going to take more than one disastrous, body-swapping curse to change that.

Read for: Body Swapping, Alternating Scorpius/Draco POV, Draco being a good dad, Soft Harry, DADA Professor Harry

🌻No Harm by Tessa Crowley | E | 46k |🌻

After a long, bloody war, Draco Malfoy just wants to do something good with his life for a change, and resolves to become a healer. But magical society refuses to make it easy for him, and an increasingly dramatic series of events—all of them instigated by Harry Potter—get him kicked out of med school, force him to live in exile, and threaten to destroy the new life he’s trying so desperately to build. But Harry isn’t instigating anything—at least not on purpose. He’s just trying to work up the nerve to ask him out. His efforts don’t appear to be going great.

Read for: Down and out Draco, Pining Harry, same scenes from different perspectives

🌼Truth to Materials by lately & @toomuchplor | E | 54k | 🌼

In which Harry learns to appreciate art and other pleasures of the flesh.

Read for: Artist Draco, Paris, Good Smut

🌷Pillar of Salt by @epitomereally | E | 62k | 🌷

From the lake in the Room of Hidden Things, Draco knows three things: 1. Mirror universes exist, and he’s going to find the best one—the one where he did the right thing. 2. Harry Potter and him are awfully cosy in some of these other universes, whereas Potter in real life is starting to act very odd around him indeed. 3. Draco’s reflection—the mirror version of him, the worst version of him—seems to be growing crueler. And stronger.

Read for: Eighth Year, Alternate Universes (sort of), Magical Theory

🪻Behind Closed Doors by @stratigraphywrites | E | 77k | 🪻

Twelve years after Harry Potter disappeared from the wizarding world and from Draco's life, his daughter starts at Hogwarts.

Read for: Secret Child, Angst with a Happy Ending, Nonlinear Narrative

🌹A Soft Place to Fall by @amomorii | E | 142k | 🌹

When Harry arrives for his first year teaching at Hogwarts and is struck with a bizarre malignance, how on earth is he supposed to react when Draco Malfoy suddenly cares? Or; A darkness crawls out of Harry, and there's only so long he can keep it to himself.

Read for: Unique Concept, Managing Childhood Trauma, Reluctant Magical Coparenting (but it’s not what you think)

🌺The Star Splitter by @oflights | E | 219k |🌺

On a routine time travel assignment to the past, Draco stumbles upon 7-year-old Harry Potter and witnesses his neglect and mistreatment by the Dursleys. In the moment, there is only one solution, even if it goes against all his training as a Time Agent: he has to bring Harry back to the future with him. In which Draco burns his life down for the sake of his former school rival.

Read for: Time Travel, Draco taking care of Harry, Kid Fic

I hope you enjoy these fics as much as I did! If you read any, don't forget to show the creators some love ❤️🩵💛💚

[aangelinakii]

COOKING WITH THE JUSTICE LEAGUE.

characters written about in this piece : bruce wayne, clark kent, diana prince, barry allen, hal jordan

note : omgomg this idea is so frraking cute 😭😭 and sorry some are longer than others !!! <3

requested !

BRUCE WAYNE.

it's not that bruce can't bake, because he can, but the whole "baking" thing doesn't really fit the agenda he's going for 💀 so it would take a lot of convincing to get bruce to try make some meringues, or even cupcakes. but after living with alfred for the majority of his life, he's definitely learned how to cook.

i mean, he's still a guy with a butler, so it's not like he does everything or knows how to make everything. if you want to make something he's never made before, he'll definitely let you take the lead, and something inside him will be a little nervous about messing anything up, so even if you ask him to stir something he'll keep asking if he's doing everything right

but when it comes to dishes he does know how to make bruce will want you to sit back and watch, and periodically taste test his food to "make sure it's not poisonous." he loves cooking for you, but i can see him feeling a bit out of place when it becomes a duo task — he doesn't want to mess anything up, and part of him feels a bit like that young bruce again, in the early years after his parents' deaths, sitting on the counter whilst alfred cooks them dinner.

CLARK KENT.

clark absolutely looooveeeesss cooking, i'd say it's definitely a love language of his, making food for the people he loves. he's probably learnt it from ma kent, cooking for people. clark definitely has a long list of recipes stored up there, and probably has a separate tab on his phone for recipes he thought were interesting

differently to bruce, i think clark may have a talent for baking specifically, as opposed to cooking proper dinner meals. if you cook a meal together i could see you focusing on the dinner, and clark preparing dessert, which he can put in the oven whilst you're eating. and yes, even on a normal evening (usually a friday night or weekend) he insists on having a dessert. even if what you've made is some instant ramen or ten-minute rice dish, clark is up at the counter stewing some blueberries and apple slices for a crumble

DIANA PRINCE.

diana has so many handed-down recipes that she would love to share,, and on days where she hasn't got anything going on she loves spending the entire day making huge servings of greek dishes that you can keep in the fridge and eat every night for a month. she's not one to hog the counter or the oven, she wants to teach you everything she knows !!!

and she's super super open to learning your recipes, or being your little guinea pig if you want to experiment with recipes, like hello she's amazonian she could survive anything !! but if you're in the kitchen, she'll ask if there's anything she can do to help you out and even if you say no she'll find something to do, like fill up a glass of water so you don't get too dehydrated whilst making her some amazing food.

BARRY ALLEN.

love love loves sharing the kitchen with you, and he loves cooking for you just as much as you love cooking for him. i even made a whole fic about it (shameless promo) where you alternate dinner making duties round each other's apartment each week

he thinks you're amazing really,, even if you cook something that tastes a little bit.. you know.. barry will still gobble it down because you ?? thought of him ?? and wanted to make him food ?? probably has food as a love language, but in a different way to clark,, the way clark sees it, making food is how he expressed love, but barry feels like eating someone's food that way made for him is a way of showing love ? do you know what i mean ?

obviously he loves cooking for and with you, but yeah he really appreciates you cooking for him more

HAL JORDAN.

definitely takes charge in the kitchen, but will give you jobs here and there. it could be tasting, it could be mixing spices into a sauce, it could be stirring. i think he prefers the creative aspect to cooking, so if he's got a recipe in mind be prepared to get a little bossed around. he likes adding seasoning and making little sauces. sometimes if you're lounging around at home he'll spring out of nowhere with a snack for you to eat, "something he's working on" and it always tastes buss

might get a little nervy if you want to take charge, but that's just a him issue, and he'll calm down once you get the food sitting right in front of him and it tastes just as good as it smells (and also as long as the fire alarm hasn't gone off once !!!!)

[accidentcache]

the five stages of grief

feat: slightly canon adjacent ! shigaraki tomura / tenko shimura

warnings: angst. language. violence and mentions of injuries, major character death, implications to suicide, close to canon events as i could remember, 3.9k read!

cache notes: uhhhhhh this my offer for tomura's bday fic. IM SORRY

m.list

you thought you were experiencing the stages of grief out of order after the war. come to find out, your subconscious knew tenko died long before he physically left you.

DENIAL

— the action of declaring something to be untrue.

"tomura's being weird," spinner sounds upset, but when you look up from your gaming console, his face betrays no emotion. almost like he didn't say anything at all. his fingers push at buttons and he looks immersed in whatever mission that has his attention at the moment.

you want to say i know or something along that line— you can't help it. it's something that runs deep in your psyche to be an asshole back to him. he's never been too cordial with you, but spinner's respectful enough. if tomura likes you, there must be some reason he's keeping you around. the two of you have been toeing the line of being at each other's throats since you joined the group.

instead, you choose to grunt in response. "you're overthinking things," is what you choose to say. because for some god damn reason you can't bring yourself to even think to agree with spinner.

you end up running around in circles in your game, now distracted. what would spinner know about tomura that you don't already know? spinner might be his closest friend— he might believe that he knows tomura fairly well. but you know him on a more intimate level. sure, tomura doesn't tell you everything— you could thank all for one for that.

but what's said in the dark of night, on top of cheap pillows and underneath thin blankets is something you know for sure spinner doesn't.

tomura lies next to you, an arm slung over your waist lazily. he's knocked out cold, his nose twitches with every inhale of a snore. the bed sags underneath the both of you, the sheet is warm with shared body heat.

you can't help but watch his features as he sleeps. if he were conscious, he would've called you out for it. being weird— staring at him while he slept like some sort of creep.

but he also knows that you like to look at him. he'll never know why, but you're quiet when you do it and you keep comments to yourself. so he lets you. only speaking when you need to, or when he needs you to.

tomura stirs slightly, bringing his arm around your waist tighter. the weight and warmth of his skin against yours brings comfort, like always— but a slight twinge of unease.

you have to blink to clear your head. spinner's words are not getting to you. he doesn't know what he's talking about. tomura still looks the same to you, he still acts the same. the tension was subconscious.

"you're thinking' about something," tomura's voice is low and still extremely heavy with sleep. it startles you, but his grip around you tightens when you jump. your cheek warms with the push of his voice. "what are you thinking about?"

your teeth pull at the seam of your lip. normally, the silence would mean you're simply just thinking about what to say— and to be honest, you are. but there's hesitation in this silence, which causes him to open his eyes ever so slightly. he can barely make out your silhouette in the darkness, but he knows you're still looking at him.

"you'd tell me if something was changing, wouldn't you?"

it's tomura's turn to hesitate.

you try to ignore it. "you'd tell me if something was different, right?"

tomura's eyes finally adjust to the darkness and he can make out your expression more clearly. the furrow of your brow and the heaviness set in your eyes. it's such a vulnerable look on you, it's not a look he sees very often.

he forces himself to swallow. "nothing's changing, promise."

"promise?"

in the darkness, tomura doesn't see you lift your hand until he feels your fingertip graze along his cheek. the pressure is gentle, feather-light; reverent almost. you trace the grooves that the scars have made on his features like they are a road map. the destination changes every time, but you follow it with such enthusiasm every single time. tomura's come to accept it, and over time has learned to lean more and more into it.

your touch seems to soften, and in return tomura softens as well.

"i promise."

ANGER

— can sometimes function as a coping mechanism, providing a sense of control or a way to express frustration in the face of helplessness or disbelief.

"this is fucking stupid, tomura," you hiss out while taking an aggressive seat beside him. the motion kicks some dirt up, tomura ignores how some of it lands on his shoes. he keeps his eyes trained on gigantomachia as the behemoth sleeps. in another hour and a half, the two will start fighting again and you will force yourself to follow.

"don't say that," he mutters back. his fingers are carefully bending and twisting a twig into odd shapes, challenging it to break even though it's a fairly young clipping. there's plenty of twigs to choose from littered along the ground around the two of you. when this one finally breaks, tomura will just move onto the next one.

"well, it is," you counter. "you've barely made a dent in the progress. he's not weakening. ujiko is just stringing you along."

tomura's head tilts to stare at you out of his peripheral. he really doesn't want to fight with you on this. you were there when the group got warped to the lab, you heard the entire deal. you know his entire stance on the situation. he doesn't know if this is the lack of sleep talking or the lack of eating— but he's explained it how many times?

"ujiko is not stringing us along, [y/n]. how many times do i have to tell you this?" tomura says. his fingers finally snap the twig between his fingers and he tosses it a couple feet away in front of him before reaching for another at his feet. this one breaks much easier when he bends it. "it's going to work out in the end."

your elbows dig into your thighs as you lean forward. chewing on the inside of your lip, you mutter a bitter sounding "doubtful" and keep your gaze off of him.

there's tension between the two of you. there are inches in between the two of you but you've never felt more far apart.

when's the last time you've touched him? since tomura's held you in his arms? when was the last time the two of you lied face to face in bed together and just giggled about silly things you've seen online. you want to reach out and touch him but something inside of you refuses to. would he even feel like the tomura you were used to?

muscles and scars aside, would he feel like tenko?

you don't realize just how heavy your shoulders feel until his eyes finally meet yours fully, and he looks you up and down. your eyes burn and you realize you've been glaring at his side profile for the past couple of minutes of terse silence. something bitter and harsh has been simmering low in your gut for a while.

"this is more than machia, isn't it?" tomura asks in a low tone. there's a warning laced in between each syllable, you'd be dumb if you didn't notice the tone shift. but when do you not challenge tomura? he will deny it until the day he dies that it's one of his favorite things about you.

however, it is AFO's least favorite thing about you.

tomura still continues to fight with enabling this kind of behavior, or just not engaging at all. AFO tells him that you're a problem. a hindrance. you can't be trusted. you're going to do something big and take him away from his goal and everything is going to go to shit because of you.

tomura's known you for how long? he's seen you change in so many ways. you've burned through so many costumes, you've cut your hair in so many gas station bathrooms. there's a certain twinkle in your eye whenever you look at him that's never changed.

tomura hasn't seen that sparkle in months.

tomura hasn't seen so much aggression behind your eyes since the day you two met. you clearly don't audibly make it known, but you're upset with him. why else would you glare at him like that? why else would you look at him like he's not the same person at the moment?

it it because he's not?

maybe somewhere deep inside of you, you've already figured it all out. you just haven't pieced together all the parts yet. tomura isn't sure that your denseness is a blessing, or a curse in disguise.

tomura is still silent in front of you. the longer your gaze is deliberately met by his, the stronger the feeling of hate bubbles in your gut. your hands clench and unclench at your sides and your knuckles ache with tension. is this tomura you're feeling hate towards? surely it's not. you've been mad and angry at tomura before, yes.

but you've never hated him.

"this better be worth it," you manage to hiss out. your teeth grit so hard you can hear them squeak when they grind against each other. you force yourself to stand and move— away from him, away from him. white hot tears are beginning to well up, your eyes are burning and you'll be damned if you let him see you cry.

somewhere inside of you tells you tomura would comfort you if you did start crying; but a larger part of you tells you that you're wrong. why would he comfort you if he were the source of the tears? why would he apologize for the pain he had caused when that was the plan from the start?

BARGAINING

�� attempt to negotiate or make compromises.

you had a violent realization when the tides had turned in the final war. aside from being aggressively pinned into the dirt, the fact that you were so easily overwhelmed in a matter of moments had your head spinning in ways that the concussion you were given didn't.

you smelled and tasted iron. there was blood pouring from your nose and mouth contributing to the taste and and scent, and the blood loss was starting to make you delirious. you were seeing double. there was a knee pushed between your shoulder blades and your wrists were being sliced open practically with how tight the cuffs were.

spinner's voice crackled in your ear. "[y/n], shigaraki needs help—"

he's cut off and racked with coughs and sputters. you try to ignore the stabbing pain in your spine, your cheek pressed into the gravel. the rocks are being pushed so hard into your skin that you know there will be indents. "what's wrong with tomura?"

when spinner doesn't answer, your heart practically throws itself against your rib cage. there's ringing in your ears, drowning out the rest of the screams and shouts of other villains and heroes fighting around you. drowning out the voice of the hero above you that only shoves his kneecap further into your back once he feels you squirming underneath him.

you didn't want to admit that you were right when the heroes split everyone up that something would go wrong. you no longer had eyes on tomura; and he to you. though you were sure he wasn't thinking in the same sense that you were when it all happened. was that part of their plan? to separate tomura from you?

you don't care that the last interaction with him was a screaming match. you don't care about the selfish words that came out of your mouth, or the cold tone he had used on you. or that tomura didn't look like tomura at all. didn't even resemble tenko either.

"spinner!" you practically scream into the dirt. the tears fall freely from your eyes but you don't have it in you to acknowledge them. they feel like fire when they fall, mixing with the blood and dirt already embedded in your skin into some grotesque mess around your mouth. "iguchi!"

your mind races. not a single thought connects properly, your body buzzes with new motivation to get out. the scream that leaves your mouth is raw and so painful that even the hero above you pauses with the force of his restraints. you can feel your quirk starting to overload your senses, clogging the sensors in your body with power and strength that it cannot handle.

"shuichi," your voice does not sound like your own. your forehead meets the dirt because you think you can reach him with your voice through the ground. "where is tenko?"

you want to believe that spinner had just run into a little problem and was just letting you know that tomura needed backup to finish the plan. you want to believe that he just needed help for a big finish. tomura would reach out to you personally if things went wrong, wouldn't he? he still cared about you like that, didn't he?

tomura had AFO's strength now. he was more than capable of holding his own; there's no way he needed actual help. there's no way, right? there's no way.

how would you even get there in time to help him? what higher being do you need to plea to in order to get you to tomura's side before something worse happens? would that supreme being even listen to you? were you so beyond saving that not even god would help you save the one you loved? or was that privilege only reserved for heroes?

your quirk was draining your stamina. you were feeling weaker and weaker; the idea of begging to god was sounding more and more like a good idea.

anything to get to tomura.

even with your vision gaining the vignette— darkening more and more as the seconds passed. you could not feel the oxygen going in through your mouth or leaving through your nose in short, harsh puffs. you'd do anything.

you'd do anything to see tenko again.

DEPRESSION

— a common mental health condition characterized by persistent sadness, loss of interest, and other symptoms that can significantly impact a person's ability to function.

the next time you see spinner, he is dressed in orange. it matches yours, your numbers are far apart but you are treated the same. it's mid spring in the courtyard, the sunlight feels like it should burn your skin the longer you stand out in it.

this time outside is mandatory. you'd rather still be in your cell— away from the cherry blossom scent, away from the petals that fall so delicately onto the asphalt.

away from the harshness of spinner's gaze the moment his eyes find yours.

your hair had been trimmed short. you tried to wrap it around your throat at one point so the orderlies buzzed it all off a week after you had been thrown into prison. the bags under your eyes have darkened over the months. you've been to solitary more than once after your night terrors had turned violent and you tried to attack your cell mate.

spinner doesn't look any better than you do. his actions are fueled by rage as he crosses the courtyard to stand in front of you.

"he's gone," his voice is full of hurt and pain. as if your shoulders weren't heavy enough, the weight of his tone adds more pounds that you decide to selflessly take on. "everything he fought for, [y/n]."

you're far past feeling anything at this point. you know what the media is painting tenko as. what they're painting the league as a whole as. what could you do about it? there was only so much that you could attempt with eyes on you at all times and a trigger itching to be pulled if you moved too fast.

"he didn't sign up for this."

"i know," your voice is dull and almost lifeless. you don't have the balls in you to meet his eyes at this point anymore. you've admitted to yourself that spinner was right all those months ago when he first noticed something was off with tenko.

"he died a hero, [y/n]!" his voice raises.

you don't know if he was talking more to you, or himself.

"i know," your voice repeats like a broken record. it breaks on the last syllable and both you and spinner cringe at the sound of it.

"we could've— should have done something," he forces out. you can audibly hear him swallow and your own throat mirrors the noise as you swallow a painful sound of your own. "to save him. he should've destroyed society. he could've changed the world."

your voice is barely audible when you speak next. you blink back tears, but they end up falling anyway. "i know."

ACCEPTANCE

— learning to live with the loss and finding a way to move forward, even though the pain may still linger.

the tip of your boot meets a tuft of grass. the grave in front of you has not been taken care of, there's moss and weeds that line the cement. you can still see the faint outline carving of his name, however.

tenko shimura.

even though there's no remains underneath the gravestone, this isn't his official burial spot— but this is your spot for him.

only a select amount of people know about this spot. your parole officer, mr compress— spinner. the three remaining league members still alive. they don't question the location. they come, give their moment of silence and leave.

"i feel like i should leaves flowers or something this time," you say to the empty air around you. your hands clench around nothing in the pocket of your hoodie. you kick at the tuft of grass again and sigh to yourself. "you hated flowers."

there's a tree that offers some shade a little off to the side. you're surprised that it's still standing, surprised that the gnarled old bark still tells stories to people who won't appreciate them. the roots are as old as time. the branch you fell off of when you were younger still hangs low and off kilter from it snapping under your weight.

it's been years since the war. you were lucky enough to finally get put on house arrest after a good couple of years. your parole officer sits in a car just a couple yards away— waiting. watching. though he knows you won't make a run for it. you've been on a streak of good behavior since gaining the privilege of visiting your makeshift grave for tenko.

"i uh…" your hand rises and rubs at the back of your neck in an awkward fashion. your hair had been kept short— a turning point. a way of admitting that you've changed; that times have changed. "i apologized to iguchi. finally."

that he was right. he saw the signs before you did.

"i miss you," your teeth pull at the corner of your mouth. you know you won't cry. you feel like you should— for the past few times you've visited you've ended your visits early due to the sobs that have racked through your body. "iguchi's right. you were a hero to us."

as soon as the words leave your mouth you hate how they sound.

"you are a hero, i mean. you're my hero. our hero."

yeah, it sounds cringe. awkward and unfamiliar in your throat. it's the truth, you've known it for years now. you realize you don't say those words out loud enough— that's why they feel so… weird. coming out of your mouth.

you make a promise to say it out loud more often.

the tip of your boot meets the concrete gravestone in front of you again in a lingering touch. you offer a final sniffle, the only sign you give that you're about to let go of your emotions. "until next time, yeah? promise it won't be months from now."

you turn on your heel and shove your hands further into the pocket of your hoodie.

"promise."

© accidentcache do not repost, translate or alter my work without permission. all rights reserved.

[mononijikayu]

would you fall in love with me again? — ryomen sukuna.

“I don’t want to go either, you know.” you admitted, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on your chest. “How can I just leave everything behind?” For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, without warning, Sukuna grabbed your wrist, his grip firm but not harsh. You gasped, as he pulled you close. Your faces were a few meters apart, your breath ragged as you were confronted by the emotions blurring in his eyes. “Then don’t leave.” he said, his voice fierce. “Stay.”

GENRE: alternate universe - historical ;

WARNING/S: not safe for work (nsfw), major character death, graphic violence, non-con/dub con, heavy themes, historical fiction, tragedy, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, romance, childhood friends to lovers, first love, forbidden love, slow burn, falling in love, unresolved romantic tension, bittersweet, separation, mutual pining, domestic, reunion, feelings, arranged marriage, forced marriage, family pressure, political conflict, war, star-crossed lovers, betrayal, unspoken feelings, emotional baggage, emotional manipulation, period typical sexism, depiction of self-exit, depiction of war, depiction of heavy themes, depiction of graphic violence, mention of graphic violence, mention of self-exit, depiction of war, depiction of heavy themes, reincarnated! sukuna, reincarnated! reader;

WORD COUNT: 32k words

NOTE: this took the longest to do and really, it was so hard to just make. sukuna has this ability to challenge me when i write things and it just makes it even more fun to write. this is a heavy read and i wrote it as a reincarnated life of sukuna and concubine reader from the other woman series.

this was supposed to be a different story, but it changed in the process of writing to something different. i think various forms of love, even twisted one, can be something we can read.

unfortunately, tumblr is not letting me post the main post here, due to the format not being under 1k blocks. which is odd since i have done this before and it hasn't ended up happening before. so i posted it on kofi!!!

you can click on this link:

in any case, please come back here afterwards and post your reactions about the fic!!! i'd like for you to interact with me!!! i love you all so much and i hope you enjoy it!!! happy valentines day~ i'll see you in 2.5k followers event!!! <3

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buono san valentino, 2025;

[tarnishedtwill]

Nevarran Culture

Nevarran Surnames – It is remarked briefly in a codex that most Nevarran surnames are three syllables. This seems to be true with the majority we are exposed to in game: Pentaghast, Van Markham, Hezenkoss, Volkarin, Anaxas & Tanhausen to name a few examples. However we do see an exception with the Blackthorne’s and Forsythia families. Blackthorne’s notably adopted their surname from the land that was gifted to them, and Forsythia which [has four syllables] doesn’t seem to have any information alluding to them not being originally from Nevarra. 

Nevarran Features – From looking at a handful of known Nevarran characters [Emmrich, Cassandra, Myrna, & Tessa] It seems that generally speaking, most Nevarrans tend to have dark hair, often black, as well as brown to green eyes. [Hazel seems quite recurring.]  This of course is not always the case, but it seems to be quite prevalent. Likewise it seems that olive complexions seem to be quite common in the region.

[Death Watch] Beetles –The imagery of beetles can be found amidst Nevarran motifs. Fitting in amongst the geometric shapes well. Perhaps thats where the fascination first rose. Hard in Hightown mentions the use of encrusted wings being used decoratively by the Nevarrans. Boxes of Beetles can be found in the Black Emporium [DAII] with the following Codex [Crate of Live Death Watch Beetles] The Death Watch Beetle is thought to fortell death, and thusly has become prized. Sometimes families go as far as keeping one caged in their homes as good luck. Insect symbols are also used throughout the Grand Necropolis, necromancers state they, “Honor the work of the humblest creatures in our funerary rites.”  While this may be true looking at longstanding traditions in Nevarra including oftentimes vegetarianism, the codex goes on to provide a more clear idea on beetles. It states that Nevarran found a kind of beetle that consumes flesh of the dead [i.e. a carrion beetle] This leaves behind only the skeleton, insects like this are probably valuable in the grand necropolis to expedite decay processes and keep things ‘cleanly’. Emmrich notes [codex: ‘on beetles’] that the Watchers have bred ‘fascinating variations’ of the beetles, I find it so interesting that they rely on nature for this process instead of using magic as part of ritual. It’s unclear if these are specifically the death watch beetles mentioned in Hard in Hightown, but it is interesting to see the beetle motif surface in so many ways within Nevarran culture. [I also personally find several of the Mourn Watch insignias to look like stylized beetles.]

Hexagons– Alright, so I would adore anyone who may have additional insight, but now with the nearly completely decoded Nevarran script I feel comfortable to make this assertion, but the Hexagon has some type of cultural significance to Nevarran culture, it features not only in things like architecture and clothing [even the chains on Emmrich's outfit are hexagonal links] but also things like, every mourn watch symbol I have run across fits into a hexagonal outer silhouette not to mention the script of the Nevarran language’s alphabet fits neatly into a hex-base as well. I am trying to dig for design notes on this, but I don’t have access to the artbook. If anyone knows more I’d love the insight.

Cuisine – With the evidence provided by a menu in Rivain, referring to ordering a dish meatless as Nevarran, and several dialogue and text mentions of Emmrich not eating meat [though cheese seems fine]. It can be assumed its pretty common practice in Nevarra to be vegetarian. This makes sense if you look at their cultural reverence for dead and the importance of the body in their burial rites, probably paints eating the bodies of creatures in a different light. To us what is simply meat, is probably seen as mild desicration. Emmrich even goes as far to state: each Watcher must decide what they wll and won't take a life for. Though it is probably common for Nevarrans to think this way and partake in vegitarian based diets, I also would argue this could be in part class based as well. We know that Emmrich grew up in a poor family, and his father was a butcher. A butcher in Nevarra. This implies that despite the pervasiveness of things like no meat options being referred to as 'Nevarran', and there being cultural significance to how they percieve meat and death, people in Nevarra are still in fact eating meat with enough demand that a butcher was a feasable occupation. This also could imply perhaps meat is seen as a lower-class consumable, and being able to sustain a vegitarian diet with more diverse ingredients a privilege. Known dishes include: Blood Orange Salad, Flatbread [similar to a pita], and Hazlenut Torte. Nevarrans also take great pride in aesthetic presentation and plating of food, often displaying it quite beautifully and with care.

Grave Mist– With the appearance of a churning cloud within a bottle, Grave Mist is magically infused vapors. It is captured near tombs where spirits dwell, and has some type of intoxicating nature to it. We don’t know if its more along the lines of inebriation or hallucination, but Emmrich notes that while he personally doesn’t partake, he hears it’s effects are quite invigorating.

Duchess's Games- Held at the Anaxas estate in the Summertime, in which scholars from Cumberland test their wit against those of the Free Marches in debates. [often times over philosophy and rhetoric], usually taking place over tea with the Duchess Ravria Anaxas. 

Hunt Balls- Nevarran high society awakens each Winter, while other areas of Thedas brace for the cold. Winter is historically speaking one of the best times to conduct dragon hunts, as the cold weather causes them to be sluggish and stick closer to their hordes. As a society that celebrates the hunt of these magnificent beasts ‘Hunt Balls’ gained prominence quite early in their history. A chance for these nobles and ‘heroes’ to show off their mighty kills. Traditionally the great halls would be decorated with rather gruesome displays of the slain dragon, perhaps is heart or head the focal point. Now, with the scarcity of dragons to hunt, the balls have become more of a cultural metaphor. A display of passion amidst the cold winter, symbolizing the thrill of the chase, couples dress in armor and flowing red cloth and dance with fervor and passion to symbolize the hunt.

Additional note on Winter in Nevarra, the Minanter river is known to completely freeze over. It is a common site to see people skating along its surface, with vendors set up along the banks selling hot spiced teas, and roasted nuts.

Wintersend – A wide spread Andrastian holiday, originally called “Urthalis” [named after the draconic Old God of beauty Urthemiel], and since has been transformed in to a celebration of the Maker. It signifies for most throughout Thedas, the end of Winter and beginning of Spring. In Nevarra it begins a series of contexts and tournaments primarily focused on archery and tests of arms. Also note, Emmrich’s mom apparently made a Hazlenut Torte every Windersend.

Nevarran Statues/ Ancestral Pageants – While the finest statues and displays of pageantry happen in the Castrum Draconis, it is said that Nevarran statues honoring it’s heroes and ancestors extend out from the city, to the streets of even the meanest villages and even in to the gilded streets of Cumberland. Each autumn, residents of Nevarra city hold lavish pageants to honor these ancestors. Families are known to drape statues in colorful cloths often in their house colors, and lanterns are lit along the streets to illuminate them. Actors [paid in copper coins, which is specifically noted and an odd detail] are hired to recreate and perform stories and exploits of the heroes. The nobility are often known to compete over the best displays, notably the Pentaghasts and Van Markhams. It is to be noted that the Mortalitasi of the Grand Necropolis are also known to perform autumn rites at this time, ‘according to rumor’, it’s unknown if theirs are open to the public. I unfortunately have not run across a name for this festival/pageant.

Nevarran Spirit Philosophy- This is one of the main reasons that the Nevarran people choose to entomb and mummify their dead versus cremation, which is the more common form of ritual throughout Thedas. The idea is that once dead, a persons soul passes into the fade. This causes a spirit to then be displaced into the world, if mummified remains are nearby this gives the spirit a safe place to reside without risk of corrupting/turning. It’s a concept of balance, some scholars argue wether or not death is a 1:1 transaction across the fade. Emmrich states [codex: The Great Passage] that spirits have difficulty grasping the concept of quantities let alone numbers. Also that, no one knows a way to effectively tally both spirits in the fade, and people in the world, to ever entirel prove or disprove this theory. Nevertheless this is the concept at the heart of most Mortalitasi ideology, it is woven into the very folklore of Nevarra. The higher dead may be a melding of a spirit with the memories of the soul who came before– or even able to retain their souls.

Grave Dowry- It’s mentioned when asked why Emmrich wears so much gold that it is considered a custom called grave dowry. This is reinforced by the fact that if Mourn Watch Rook selects gold as their favourite color (conditional), the dialogue continues as Emmrich asks them if they have started their collection of grave gold yet. To which Rook responds they ‘have to decide which pieces are good enough for eternity’. If Rook is not a watcher and chooses gold, Emmrich replies by saying, ‘The Watchers wear grave gold in acknowledgement of our own deaths.’ [This implies that gold and opulence worn by members of the Mortalitasi is ritual. Its seen as something with foresight to have in death. This is very much so akin to grave good practices seen throughout the ancient world: think Mycenae, Egypt, or even Bulgaria <see Varna Necropolis>] Another codex [Aurum Profundis] mentions a passage from Prelate Vestalus Pentaghast remarking, “Gold is the eternal metal, and the sun beneath our vaults. It was first worked by our ancestors in tribute to the dead, and only Nevarra appriciates it’s sacred nner nature. Silver will tarnish, copper corrode and iron rust. Gold endures as our dead endure, and will ever adorn the inhabitants of the Necropolis.” I find that this quote perfectly captures the ideology and watcher sensibilities towards gold and the concept of dowry. It however is unclear if this is an ideology throughout Nevarra or just a tithe within the Mortalitasi.

This is my first post of several. I have been taking close notes deep diving Nevarra, the Mortalitasi, and the Grand Necropolis. I will be organizing them on my page under the tag Nevarran lore, If missed any key details or got anything wrong please by all means let me know, I want to make this as good as possible and would be happy to correct. Both for a resource for fic writers but also knowledge for my fellow lore nerds. More will be posted soon as feel sections become complete or mostly complete.

Update Edits:

Added information about Hexagons & the Nevarran Language.

Removed a section of lore on Recruitment as I found the citation to be unbacked and probably fanon.

Insight on why Butchers would be in Nevarra.

[yuechihua]

send me off to sleep (by your side).

summary: You've made an unofficial deal with Harumasa: you'll stay by his side, and help him sleep peacefully every night. You'll always make good on your promise, even if he takes on a form you no longer recognize.

notes: 4.9k words, author's notes, spoilers for harumasa's backstory, sleeping side by side, ambiguous relationship/feelings, major character death, fluff at the beginning, hurt/no comfort at the end

It’s the sunlight that first pulls you from sleep: unfamiliar, buttery light falling across your face through half-opened blinds, coloring an apartment that isn’t yours. 

You blink, struggling to orient yourself in this unknown location: simple, spartan furniture with clean edges and neat lines which is in direct contrast to the wrinkled clothing and scattered papers and books littering every possible surface. There’s medicine bottles scattered across the nightstand next to you, fallen ones rolling on the floor and hiding, half-shadowed, under the bed.

You struggle to sit up in a bed with several different blankets and pillows tossed about like lost sailors in a storm. An arm slung across your torso, casual and possessive fingers gripping your hip, tightens. 

With the arm preventing you from fully rising, you have no option but to slump back into bed, following the curve of the arm and a pale neck to Asaba Harumasa’s face, inky hair falling across his forehead, his eyes still closed.

Your mouth parts in shock at seeing your coworker fast asleep next to you, holding onto you with an unconsciously tight grip, before the pieces of last night click in. 

Sometimes, and only sometimes, when you get off work late and you’ve missed the late night train back to your apartment, you crash at Harumasa’s place. He lives closer than you do to HSO’s head building, and sometimes you’re not in the mood to deal with sleeping on spare couches, shitty corporate coffee, and lukewarm shower stalls.

“You really can’t get enough of me,” he teased the first time you agreed to stay at his place. “Coming over like this so easily… what am I supposed to think?”

In response, you gritted your teeth, sleep deprivation and a library of paperwork waiting for you tomorrow causing your patience to wane, and say, “Not another word, Harumasa, if you want to live to see tomorrow.”

You’d started off simply with crashing on the couch, but you could never catch a single wink of sleep, not when the slightest noise would startle you, and Harumasa was prone to nightmares and shuffling around in the early hours of the morning in his kitchen or bathroom to clear his head.

At first, to help him rest easier, you only settled with chatting with him throughout the night, brewing him floral tea that was supposed to aid with sleep and trying not to fall asleep at his kitchen counter. Later, you’d tried calming music, or holding his hand until he could ease into a more peaceful rest. After that, though, you’d settled on a different compromise, because you were starting to fall asleep at your desk during work: you’d sleep in his bed with him instead, if only because a warm body seemed to ease him more than anything else.

“This is purely for… medical reasons,” you told him crisply. “Nothing else. All right?”

“Of course,” he said, but you couldn’t trust the grin creeping across his face, which you couldn’t describe as anything but “goofy” and “untrustworthy.”

And that leads you to your current predicament. Of course his apartment looks unfamiliar in the daylight; you’ve only ever stumbled in during the late nights, and left before the sun rose in order to get to work early (that, and to avoid any rumors if the two of you arrived at the office at the same time). You should be used to waking up next to Harumasa, but it still startles you every time to see him so close. 

However, the color and depth of the sunlight, and the fact your alarm isn’t the reason you woke up causes unease trickles through your veins.

“Harumasa,” you hiss. “Harumasa!”

He still doesn’t stir, and you shake his shoulder until he blearily blinks his eyes. “Hm… Wha…”

It’s at this point you can shake off his relentless grip, lunging for the night stand to pick up your phone and to see, with growing horror, the bright “11:24 AM” on your screen, along with several texts and a missed call from Yanagi.

“We’re late. Oh my god. We’re late!” you say, finally leaping out of Harumasa’s bed. Where are your clothes? Scattered on the floor alongside Harumasa’s. You’re in nothing but a tank top and athletic shorts, and you pick up your white dress shirt, now unbearably creased. You’ll need to get it ironed later, but you have more pressing issues to worry about as you slip one arm through the sleeve.

“Oh. Is that all?” Harumasa says lazily.

“Is that all? Come on! We’re three hours late for work!”

“It’s fine. It’s not the end of the world.”

“Come on, get up!” you say, swiftly buttoning your shirt closed, reaching over to his supine body and giving his shoulder a light smack. “Yanagi’s going to give you overtime if you keep sleeping.”

At your words, Harumasa finally sits bolt upright in bed, eyes widening. “My pants are over there! Throw them over, quick!”

You reach down and toss him a pair of wrinkled black slacks. The two of you rush to get ready in the next ten minutes, taking turns running in and out of the bathroom and throwing together some bland, packaged food for breakfast from Harumasa’s kitchen cabinets. 

You pull on your coat, teal and crisp and a mandatory part of the official HSO uniform, but it’s wrinklier than you remember. But there’s no time to worry about your outfit, so you pin your ID to the front and slip on your loafers, tapping the front of each toe lightly on the floor.

Harumasa pauses, leaning against the doorway of his bedroom as he watches you. There’s an expression that’s strangely tender on his face.

“What?” you ask. “Something on my face?”

“No. I just think you look nice,” he says. You wait for a joke to follow his words, but nothing does.

“Thanks. You look nice, too,” you add. Might as well pay him his compliment back. “Now, let’s go!”

There’s no time to deal with the caprices of public transport, the afternoon rush or the inefficient wait times, so you take off at a brisk jog down the streets instead, Harumasa following at his own lackadaisical pace.

“I can’t believe I slept past my alarms,” you lament. 

“That might have been my fault,” Harumasa says. “I think I pressed snooze on all of them.”

“What? Why?”

“I wanted to sleep in,” he says.

You purse your lips. “Well, I didn’t!”

“I also thought you looked cute so I didn’t want you to wake up,” he says conversationally. “Sorry.”

The image of Harumasa, propped up on one elbow, watching you sleep with a smile playing on his mouth, rises to mind, unbidden. You push it away; there’s no point in letting yourself wander down that path. 

Harumasa is a smooth-talker, carefree and light, like a dandelion puff that’ll blow whichever way the wind will carry it. He’s your coworker, someone who you trust and tease in equal measure. You care about him, more than is safe, but despite the fact you sleep in his bed, there’s so much you don’t know about him.

Where do his nightmares come from? What condition requires him to take so many pills? Why does he let you in his arms, but not his heart? He never explains, so you never ask.

If he had tried to touch you any of those nights together, you wouldn’t have pushed him away. But there’s a line he never crosses with you. He holds you tightly, desperately, as if he doesn’t want you to leave, but he never reaches out first.

His desires are contradictory and confusing, and so hard for you to piece together. Harumasa is like a skittish animal, keeping inches away from your outstretched hands, yet unable to keep his hungry gaze away from you.

“Oh, please. You’ve seen me sleep a hundred times before,” you say, tone teasing. “I don’t know why today is so different. You’ll see it a hundred times in the future, too.”

You no longer hear Harumasa’s footsteps behind you, so you turn. He’s stopped in the middle of the sea of people rushing by, like water around rocks. You’re suddenly displaced from the stream of crowds around you, all with their lives, their goals, their dreams, so unknown and alien to you.

What does Harumasa want to say to you? There’s something trapped in his gaze, his throat, the way he worries at the edge of his lip with his teeth, as if biting back some ugly truth. The same things he’s always hidden from you, from Section Six, from the rest of the world.

“I haven’t had any nightmares lately. I haven’t properly thanked you for that,” Harumasa says. He’s only a few feet away, but it feels like there’s miles between the two of you, oceans and canyons that you can’t traverse to reach wherever he’s speaking from.

“You can thank me after work,” you say. “Take me out to eat, if you feel bad.”

“Sure. We’ll go somewhere nice. You can choose.”

“Maybe we can bring the others along,” you add. “Soukaku will feel left out if we get something tasty without her, and Miyabi and Yanagi have been working hard these past few weeks.”

“Now you’re adding people without asking me? Do you want me to go bankrupt?”

He’s the same as he always is, with his carefree attitude and casual jokes, the way he keeps the mood light. Why, then, do you still feel so distant from Harumasa? Like he’ll be swept off into this crowd of people and you’ll never see him again?

“Harumasa.” You stride forward and circle his wrist with your hand, an anchor to keep him moored to your side. “I’ll be here for you, you know that, right? I’ll stay with you every night for as long as you need. I want to support you. You can tell me anything.”

Harumasa smiles ruthfully. “You’re too good to me. What if I take advantage of that?”

“I’ll let you,” you say quietly.

His breath hitches, his eyes dropping, as if searching for the right answer on the pavement beneath him. “The only thing I’ll ask you to do is to keep staying with me every night. Just help me sleep.”

“All right.”

He wiggles his hand free from your grasp until he can ghost his fingers along your palm, slowly intertwining your fingers together. His touch is as tentative as a butterfly’s kiss. You’re afraid to move, as if he’ll vanish if you do. “And I trust you. I know there’s a lot you’re curious about, but I need some time. There’s some unfinished business I need to deal with, first.”

“Take your time,” you say. “I’ll be waiting.”

Harumasa squeezes your hand briefly before letting go. “Also, this doesn’t bother me, but you do realize we’re still late to work, right?”

Shit. You glance at your phone, and the bright number makes you want to faint. “Let’s hurry! We’ll talk after work, all right? You still owe me that meal!”

The two of you race down the street (well, you run and Harumasa languidly follows a step behind), and you swear you can hear Harumasa’s quiet laughter all the way to the office. 

You don’t stop your frantic pace even as you check into the Hollow Special Operatives building, scanning your ID and bursting into the elevator, riding it all the way to your floor, where the doors pop open to a scowling Yanagi. 

“I’m so sorry!” you cry, explanations and apologies bubbling from your mouth. “Yanagi, this was extremely unprofessional of me, and I promise I’ll never be this late without prior notice again. If—”

“It’s okay,” Yanagi says, cutting in with a sigh. “You’re not normally this late. I was worried something happened to you.” 

“Tsukishiro, you’re so kind to us,” Harumasa says, grinning. 

“Asaba! This is your sixth time arriving late–” Abruptly, Yanagi stops her scolding, looking at Harumasa with a confused expression, before her eyes drift back to you. You can see something click in her thoughts as a mixture of recognition, shock, and weary acceptance play across her face in rapid measure. “I hope the two of you remember HR protocol for office relationships,” she says finally. “I have no feelings on your personal relationship outside of work, as long as… you don’t let it affect your performance.”

“What?” you say. Yanagi’s lips are pursed, and Harumasa’s expression is smugly pleased, like a cat with a particularly juicy piece of fish. Your eyes naturally drift from Harumasa, whose jacket isn’t as baggy and oversized as usual and instead looks strangely familiar, all the way to your own body, where you see that it’s not your jacket, but Harumasa’s jacket, hanging off your shoulders.

Shit. In the morning rush, you’d probably grabbed the wrong coat off the floor. That’s most likely why Harumasa had looked at you so oddly, too. 

Harumasa must notice the dawning horror on your face, because he adds, in a voice that makes you want to kick him, “Don’t worry, Tsukishiro. We’d never act so unprofessional in the workplace.”

“Yanagi, this isn’t… We’re not… There’s a perfectly good explanation for…” Any excuses that come to mind fall flat. What could you say without making the situation worse? Throw Harumasa under the bus and explain that you sleep with him to help with his nightmares? Or that you stay at his apartment when you’re too exhausted to return to your own? Both of those sounded like a professional nightmare in their own right.

“Yes?” Yanagi says patiently.

“I’ll… be careful,” you finally say.

“All right. If you need anything, let me know,” she says, patting you on the shoulder.

“Tsukishiro, this is obvious favoritism!” Harumasa protests lightly.

“Favoritism? I’ve been fighting to get all of your sick leave requests approved, even though you’ve exceeded your limit for the month.”

“Point taken.”

“Now, since the two of you are here… If you’re ready to head out, I need one of you to head out to Hollow Zero,” Yanagi says. “Section Four has requested back-up, and since Soukaku and Chief Miyabi are checking out a different disturbance, I haven’t been able to go since I’m handling business here.”

“When did they request help?” you say. “If we’ve been keeping them waiting…”

“Don’t worry,” Yanagi says. “The request only came a few minutes ago. I was considering leaving to handle it, but then the two of you showed up.”

“Of course. Then I’ll–”

“I’ll go,” Harumasa announces, interrupting you with a cheeky wave of his hand. “I owe it to my, ah, coworker, don’t I, for causing so much trouble?”

“You want to volunteer for additional work?” you ask dubiously.

“Well, consider this a repayment for everything you’ve done for me. Would that suffice? Oh, and not to worry–I’ll still treat you to a good meal after, even if I have to drag my poor, bruised body to the restaurant.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” you say. 

“I’m sure.” Harumasa raises his hand, as if he means to touch you in some way, but it simply hovers in the air before he gives you a quick pat on the shoulder, the same as Yanagi had done. It’s both relieving and disappointing. “So start thinking about what you want to eat. Oh, Tsukishiro, you and the rest are invited, too.”

“You’re treating us to dinner? Are you going to pull something ridiculous later?” Yanagi asks, with the same disbelief you had.

“Not at all! Think of it as some good old gratitude. I owe everyone here a lot. So look forward to it.” He spins on his heel to press the elevator button again. “All right, time to head out!”

There’s so much you want to say to Harumasa, and so much you can’t. But he has promised you the truth, eventually, so you won’t push him further. You can only take this quiet snapshot of him in your head, his loose posture, his rumpled clothes, the way your jacket is tied low on his waist.

It comforts you that he’ll have this piece of you with him, like a lucky charm. If he won’t ask for his jacket back, then you won’t ask for yours.

“Come back soon,” you say. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

“I’ll be back.” Harumasa smiles briefly before the doors slide shut and separate the two of you.

The majority of the day passes in a blur of menial office tasks, paperwork and reports, with cheap, filtered coffee carrying you through it all. You drink yours bitterly black, and think of Harumasa. A few hours later, Soukaku and Miyabi return, covered in light scrapes and bruises that will fade within the day. 

“Welcome back,” you tell them, standing to greet them near the entrance.

Soukaku bounds up to wrap her arms around your waist in a tight hug, and you ruffle her hair. “Where’s Harumasa?” she asks.

“Out providing support to Section Four,” you say. “He’ll probably be back before the end of the day. How was your mission?”

“Fine. There wasn’t much trouble,” Miyabi says. 

“By the way, Harumasa is going to treat us to dinner tonight,” you add, fiddling with the ends of Harumasa’s jacket sleeve.

“Yay!” Soukaku says. “Let’s get meat!”

“Grilled meat,” you supply. “The best kind.”

“Premium cut…” Miyabi muses.

“Don’t ask too much from him,” Yanagi adds, looking up briefly from her desk to address the three of you. 

“You don’t want premium grade meat, Yanagi?”

“Well…”

“Take the time to think about it,” you tease.

The rest of the time pours away in a sluggish trickle. As the sky reddens to a color like pooling blood, Harumasa still hasn’t returned. It’s taking more time than you expected. All you can do is tug at the ends of Harumasa’s jacket sleeves in nervous habit, watching the teal fabric fall over your hands. It hasn’t lost his scent yet. 

Perhaps the others have sensed your unease, because the mood is more sombre than usual. Even Soukaku is quietly fidgeting at her desk, the entire office enveloped in a fragile, waiting silence.

Harumasa likes to act lackadaisical, but you know from firsthand experience that he’s competent. Besides, he’s promised to come back and tell you the things he’s been hiding. And he still has to take you and the rest of Section Six to dinner. 

This is a simple back-up mission, you remind yourself. Yanagi hadn’t mentioned any complications. It would be fine. Harumasa would come back late with some excuse, you would tease him, the entire office would have dinner together, and then you would go to his apartment and curl up in his bed, and maybe hold him a little tighter than usual tonight. It would almost be as if you and Harumasa are the lovers Yanagi thought you two were. 

The elevator dings, and you hear rapid footsteps on the carpet. Your head whips up as someone stumbles into the office—it’s not Harumasa, and your heart tightens with disappointment. Instead, it’s a person with tattered clothing whose Section Four ID is, oddly enough, still pinned to their chest, caked in a layer of blood, dust, and sweat, familiar bow in their hands, dry mouth gasping as if they’ve run all the way over without stopping, “There’s been an accident. The operative you’ve sent… Asaba Harumasa… turned into an Ethereal.”

Blood roars in your ears, a sudden, swelling ocean overtaking you. Harumasa? An Ethereal? It’s not a very funny joke, but the Section Four officer is blinking away tears. You’re standing–when did you get up?–and Yanagi and Miyabi are urgently pelting the person with questions. 

All you can see is the dulled blades of Harumasa’s weapon, glinting coolly in the person’s hands. There’s a coating of grime over the metal, and the handles have been dirtied. It needs to be cleaned and returned to Harumasa. You want nothing more than to yank it out of the person’s hands. 

The operative sees your expression, and holds out the weapon. Their voice is still hoarse and shaking as they say, “It’s all we could retrieve. I’m sorry.”

You grip the bow in your hands. The weight of it is comfortable if heavier than you expected, like holding a piece of Harumasa himself. Pieces of the conversation drift to you, but you can’t quite make out what they mean. Something about the Hollow fluctuating and their carrot being useless, getting lost and overwhelmed by Ethereals, and Harumasa using himself as a distraction. Doubling back when someone was separated from the team. Staying behind, finally, to ensure everyone could get out safely, until his own body betrayed him and he changed into an Ethereal, so rapidly no one could do anything.

There are other words, too, but they don’t make sense. You don’t want to hear them from a stranger, and not from Harumasa himself. Ether Aptitude Regression Syndrome. High likelihood of mutation in a Hollow. A fatally terminal illness.

It’s wrong, you want to say. Harumasa has promised to take you to dinner. He likes to mess around, but he’s a good person. He’s not cruel. He wouldn’t lie to you. He wouldn’t leave you behind like this.

Something cool touches your numb body. It’s Miyabi, and she’s put a hand on the back of your neck, guiding you to look at her. It’s a clear, gentle cold, somehow comforting, as she watches you intently. 

“We have to go,” she says quietly. “The Ethereal has been designated a high-level threat. We’ve been assigned to dispatch it.”

“It’s Harumasa,” you tell her, your voice clumsy and whiny, even to your own ears.

Her expression doesn’t change. “I know. But these people need us. And he needs you.”

You want to cry. You want to laugh. You want to run away. But all you can think about is Harumasa. His golden eyes luminous in the late night as he whispers to you. The way blue dawn light cradles his face, peaceful and unguarded in sleep. His smile, always so teasing, always so gentle, always shining down on you like the sun.

There’s so much you still don’t understand. About him. About your relationship. Why he keeps a certain distance from you, but never draws away when you approach him. Why he opens his arms to you every night, like it’s the only place you belong. Why you count the beat of his heart and the rhythm of his breaths when he slumbers, reassuring yourself that he’s still there. Now, the only one who can answer these questions is gone.

And you know. Miyabi is right. You must go. There is no other choice but this.

On the way there, you move like you’re in a dream. Your preparations are swift, and you’re out the door and driving to Hollow Zero before you can make sense of it. During the car ride, you clutch Harumasa’s bow like a lifeline. Soukaku sniffles, and Yanagi puts an arm around her. Miyabi is only looking at the Hollow stretching out in front of you. Once you step out of the car, with one gesture from her, the four of you venture in. 

It’s a painfully quiet trek amidst crumbling debris and corrupted growth. The four of you move swiftly, in sync as always, but there’s something missing: Harumasa, his absence like a black hole in your formation. There’s no jokes, no quips, no teasing. Only grim silence as you approach the location in your carrot.

You hear Harumasa before you see him: the scrape of blade against the resisting ground, an endless, dull roaring, like the distant echo of the ocean. He lurks beautifully in the distance, a core like the night sky nestled against twisted neon yellow and white flesh. He circles around in a tight, restless loop, as if, even in this form, he can’t be bothered to venture far. 

For a second, the four of you can only watch him quietly, hidden by a pile of stacked, blocky concrete that shields you from his notice. A flicker of teal catches your eye, buried in the rubble near Harumasa. It’s your jacket. You look away.

“I’ll draw his attention,” Yanagi begins. “Then, the rest of you can–”

“Let me do it,” you interrupt her. 

“You want to be the distraction?”

“No,” you say levelly. “There’s only one thing I can do for him right now.”

Yanagi’s eyes widen as your meaning sinks in. “It’s dangerous,” she protests. “It’s safer if we approach this as a team.”

“Will you be able to deal the blow?” Miyabi says. She’s watching you intently again, and there’s something sad in her gaze. 

You’ve watched Harumasa assemble his weapon countless times, but you don’t have his practiced ease as you unsheathe his blades and clumsily combine them into a bow. It’s not your preferred weapon choice, even if you’ve been trained in it, but it’s his, so you can use nothing else.

“I have to,” you say.

Miyabi nods. “Then I leave you with this decision.”

“If you’re sure,” Yanagi says softly. “It’ll be difficult, but I believe in you.”

“Harumasa sounds sad. You’ve gotta help him,” Soukaku says. It’s one of the first things she’s said during the mission, and you can see the drying tears on her face. It makes your heart ache.

“I’ll be there for him,” you tell her. “Don’t worry.”

With one final breath and a last glance at Section Six, you step out into the open, exposing yourself to Harumasa. An unknown bow can be finicky, but Harumasa’s weapon responds easily to your demands, bending with a grace and swiftness as you notch an arrow. You remember his movements, the assured, flowing gestures of his fighting style. You spread your feet apart, as he would have done, searching for the perfect location to strike.

You need to hit him before he notices you, but Harumasa turns. You tense, bracing to enter combat, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he stills, as if he’s finally found what he’s been looking for. 

There’s no way he knows it’s you. There’s not even a face anymore for him to watch you, not a single part of him that’s familiar. The curve of his back, the dip of his shoulders, the hollow of his throat: it’s all gone. So why isn’t he moving?

Your fingers shake as you draw the string back, careful not to take your eyes off of him.

It’s the most ridiculous moment for it, but you still remember the first time you started sleeping by his side. You’d both been sitting on the edge of his bed, draped in velvet shadows, unsure of the time. Neither of you were able to sleep. You could have, but you didn’t feel comfortable snoring away on Harumasa’s couch while he stared aimlessly at his own ceiling.

“How about this? I’ll sleep next to you,” you finally said. 

He lets out a small, surprised laugh. “Why?”

“Because I want you to sleep well,” you said. “I’ll stay by your side until you can.”

And it’s just like you once promised Harumasa. You would stay by his side until the end so he wouldn’t be alone, even if this time you can’t follow him where he’s going. After all, you want him to sleep peacefully. 

Harumasa—No. It’s no longer him. The Ethereal is still watching you, as if it’s waiting for your decision. It raises its arms, slowly, but no blow comes. They only hover in the air, outstretched like a supplication.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice ragged with tears. You fire. Your arrow strikes swift and true.

What happens next is a blur. The Ethereal crumples in one blow, melting away like a sigh. Yanagi, Soukaku, and Miyabi appear, hugging you and whispering reassurances that fall on you like warm rain. You’re led out of the Hollow, still gripping Harumasa’s bow like you’ll fall to pieces without it.

It’s confusing to be back at the office. Yanagi disappears to file reports, bringing Soukaku with her. Tomorrow, you’ll need to clear Harumasa’s desk, and prepare for his funeral. But it all feels so distant, so unreal. As if he could still walk through the door, and protest at your hasty decisions.

Miyabi hands you a tattered pile of dirty rags—Harumasa’s clothing, or what’s left of it. There’s his (your) jacket, barely clinging together, his headband, grimy at the ends, and his choker, the metal dented.

“It’s what I could find for now,” she says quietly. “I’ll give you the rest tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” you say in a hoarse voice, not trusting yourself to say any more. 

After that, Yanagi calls you a taxi, and when the driver asks where you’re headed, you give them Harumasa’s address.

His apartment is just as you left it. Still warm with the lingering scent of sunshine, the blinds open and the city lights glittering like stars. Empty dishes and glasses in the sink. A full trash can, which needs to be taken out. His blankets askew, unmade, left with nothing but a cool indent of where he once slept by your side.

You curl up on his bed, snuggling into his blankets, still wearing his jacket, too exhausted to do much more than hug his tattered clothes to you. You can still smell his scent, refreshing and slightly bitter, sunk into the pillows.

There will be no body to bury. There will be no answers. There will be no one to return to anymore.

You close your eyes. You dream. And if you hug his clothes tightly enough, you can pretend that it’s Harumasa by your side, arm around your waist. In the morning, you’ll see the light spill across his face, and smile.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Weird Fiction

Weird fiction - a subgenre of speculative fiction that combines supernatural, horror, magical realist, and fantasy elements.

Speculative fiction focuses on stories containing speculative elements that do not exist in the real world.

Weird fiction’s roots lie in Gothic fiction, horror, fantasy, and science fiction.

It subverts the traditional conventions of these genres, creating a whole new crop of unsettling and sophisticated short stories, anthologies, and novels.

Weird fiction plays to an audience’s discomfort and fascination with the unknown, digging deep into the spiritual, emotional, and existential conflicts of the human condition in ways that traditional horror stories may not. Weird fiction stories may feature bizarre creatures, haunting mythos, or mental disturbances caused by unknown forces.

How to Write Weird Fiction

Weird fiction stories often contain a variety of macabre elements and supernatural components. Follow these steps to write your work of weird fiction:

Start with a mood. In the short essay “Notes on Writing Weird Fiction,” H.P. Lovecraft directs weird fiction writers to begin with a mood when they start building the world of their story. Brainstorm all of the concrete imagery, landscapes, and words that would best embody that particular feeling. Keep these pictures in mind as you assemble the elements of your narrative, like setting, characters, or conflicts.

Build your narrative. Before you start writing your weird fiction piece, outline all of the elements of your story. What is the plot? Who are the characters? Where do they live? What does their world look like, and how is it different from yours? Weird fiction involves blending tropes and crossing genre boundaries, but you don’t want to overload your story with too many fantastical components because it might overwhelm the reader. Structure your story and build the atmosphere first before adding action and lore. Outline all of the major events in your story—first in the chronological order they happen, and then in the narrative order.

Eschew the tropes. Weird fiction subverts the traditional stories of vampires, werewolves, zombies, ghosts, or other supernatural creatures. This genre is about finding new and refreshing ways to shake up the classic arcs and tropes. Avoid clichés that don’t bring anything new to the table.

Find a deeper, darker meaning. Weird fiction dives deep into the darker and more troubling components of human emotion and experience. In these stories, magical or mystical forces are always tethered to some truth about the human condition—like a fear of the unknown. If you incorporate supernatural or symbolic elements into your story, give them a message that goes beyond the surface level. Give your fantastical elements a deeper meaning that speaks to the overall theme of your narrative.

Write and revise. Write out your narrative, making room for dramatic suspense, twists, and other compelling events. If the writing feels cliché, take the story in an even weirder direction. Weird fiction is all about breaking convention, so feel free to switch and swap elements, so it feels fresh and thrilling to you.

A Brief History of Weird Fiction

Beginnings: As the 19th century brought about the golden age of ghost stories, another branch of literature found inspiration in the supernatural, which fell outside of the expected Gothic tale that blended elements of romance, horror, and death. These weird stories were examples of paranormal fiction containing twists or subversions of expectations, branching out from the traditional tale of the age to add a sense of dread and mystique.

Poe: In the mid-19th century, Edgar Allan Poe was one of the first authors to write in a dark style different from the common fiction styles of the era.

Pulp magazines: The popularity of weird fiction hit its initial peak in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, as new horror authors found inspiration in earlier works. The American pulp magazine Weird Tales published many of these types of stories between the 1920s and 1950s.

Lovecraft: In 1937, H.P. Lovecraft popularized the term “weird fiction” in a series of essays, categorizing the work of himself and others (notably Poe) within this specific subgenre. Bolstered by a growing platform, the weird fiction movement continued to gain favor with other writers.

The New Weird: By the 1990s, the weird fiction movement experienced a shift, giving birth to the ‘the new weird’ literary subgenre. ‘The new weird’ is a more recent speculative fiction branch with a more realistic and complex fantasy tone.

Notable Weird Fiction Authors & Books

From the 19th century to today, there have been many “weird writers” whose works have impacted the literary world. Here are some of the most influential weird authors and some of their best weird fiction books and stories:

Algernon Blackwood: Blackwood was a master weird storyteller who delved into various worlds filled with unsettling horror, wonder, and spiritual forces. His 1907 novel The Willows depicts two men as they travel down a river. They experience several unsettling occurrences, and the narrator suspects the surrounding sentient willow trees are instigating these events.

Robert W. Chambers: The first four stories of Chambers’s anthology The King in Yellow (1895) deal with a malevolent, mysterious presence in yellow (as well as a yellow sign). This motif was an inspiration for HBO’s True Detective series.

Lord Dunsany: Lord Dunsany (whose real name was Edward Plunkett) was an Anglo-Irish writer of dark, fantastical fiction. The Gods of Pegāna (1905) is a series of short stories depicting deities in their narratives, featuring illustrations by English artist Sidney Sime.

Franz Kafka: Kafka’s famous short story "The Metamorphosis” (1918) features a salesman who awakes one day to find that he has turned into a monstrous insect. The narrative follows the protagonist as he deals with his new condition and the consequences of his transformation.

H.P. Lovecraft: American writer Howard Phillips Lovecraft is one of the most famous weird fiction authors. “Lovecraftian,” a term named after Lovecraft, refers to conditions that defy the laws of nature and embody weird, cosmic horror. His short story “The Call of Cthulhu” features the abomination known as Cthulhu, a horrifyingly destructive monster with tentacles and a squid face. The story originally appeared in the science fiction and horror periodical Weird Tales in 1928.

Edgar Allan Poe: Many historians consider Poe the first weird fiction writer. Poe’s short story “The Fall of the House of Usher” (1839) features an unidentified narrator—a childhood friend of the main character—who visits the main character at his seemingly sentient home. As the narrator learns more about his old friend’s family and state of mind, he discovers that the house is alive and threatening to collapse.

Source ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[thelargefrye]

BECAUSE I'M HIM ... mature one - shot (21+) | PART II

pairing : supe!ateez x supe!villain!f!reader ( ft. supe!villain!sanhwa x supe!villain!f!reader )

genre : dark, mature, heroes and villains, demon slayer x mha inspired, angst

word count : 17k

warnings : language, a lot... a LOT of fight scenes 😮‍💨, death / murder, blood / body gore, suicide, choking, attempted murder, the government wouldn't do that to you - oh yes they would, mass killing (a whole island gets wiped out – not in detail and only mentioned), MAJOR character deaths, cannibalism (kind of), mention human sacrifice, any korean that appears might be inaccurate

smut warnings : unprotected sex, threesome, mxm, noncon voyuerism, double v penetration, slight cum play

listen to the official soundtrack here

note : for topaz's @sanjoongie YOTV collab – had so much fun planning this and writing it, thank you for allowing me to be apart of this collab and i hope you enjoy it! please make sure to check out the other fics for this collab with the masterlist!

also thank you to @anyamaris for letting me word vomit this to you!

with the hero association struggling to take down the villain alliance, they and the government force death row villains to team up with some of the world's greatest heroes in order to hunt down and defeat them. you are one of those villains.

READ PART I HERE

ACT IV: THE DRAGON GOD

new ateez compound – members’ private rooms corridor – night

yunho walked through the corridors of the new compound. his footsteps soft against the polished floor. the air was heavy, thick with the tension of their recent losses and the faint, fragile peace that had come in the aftermath. if he could even call it an aftermath, everything happening all at once made yunho feel like this was just the catalyst for something bigger to come. 

this new compound gave off that same feeling, it was nearly identical to the one they’d lost, yet it felt foreign – a remainder of everything that had been torn away. from him, the team. the memories of their original compound were the only thing that kept him grounded. it was his home after all, and now… he was expected to call this new compound home. it made yunho feel uneasy. 

as he approached the row of private quarters, something stopped him in his tracks. a voice. hushed, soft, and unmistakably familiar. 

you. 

his heart stuttered in his chest as he turned towards your door, which was slightly ajar. light spilled into the hallway, warm and flickering, and yunho could just faintly hear the hum of a conversation – no, it wasn’t a conversation. your voice sounded different, breathy and tinged with something he couldn’t place at first. 

they say curiosity killed the cat, and perhaps it was that, or something deep, the pulled yunho towards your door. he should stop. whatever was happening inside your room wasn’t his business, yet his feet betrayed him. carefully, he leaned closer, peering through the crack in the door. 

the sight he saw made his breath stop and heat travel all over his body.

you bent over the edge of your bed, naked, with san on top of you. his hips creating powerful thrusts as he pounds away into your pussy. yunho can see how san’s cock easily stretches your pussy, filling you up and causing you to let out breathy wines. san’s thick hands dig into the meat of your hips, holding you up as the vigor sounds of skin meeting skin fills the room. 

yunho couldn’t tear his eyes away, from the sight of you and san. san’s balls smacking lewdly against your ass had san tossing his head back slightly, never once stopping his unrelenting pace. 

“s-sannie–” your nails claw at the messy sheets, yunho’s surprised you don’t rip them from the vice grip you have on them. you let out a ramble of words that don’t make any sense and san can only laugh at how fucked out you are. 

“she’s so fucked out, her pussy might as well be talking,” a new voice says, but yunho recognizes the deepness of it. seonghwa appears right next to san, just as naked. one of his graceful, yet lethal hands run down the expanse of san’s back. 

“s–so fuckin’ tight,” san pants out as he bends over to press his chest against back. his thick arms wrap underneath your legs and yunho can hear a wet smack! smack! smack! sound throughout the room, followed by a cry leaving your lips. 

you’re making a mess, juices drooling from your pussy, around san’s cock, and onto the bed and floor. san has completely mounted you at this point and yunho would be surprised if san didn’t break the bed from how hard he was going. one of his hands pressing your face into the mattress as san turned to look at seonghwa. his face just as fucked out as you sounded as he reaches out for the older male. 

“hy–h–hyung~” san calls out, causing seonghwa to laugh as he walks closer. stepping up on the bed, san’s eyes lit up as seonghwa’s cock was at eye-level with him. his mouth dropping open without seonghwa having to say a word. 

“you’re just as fucked out as her,” seonghwa teases, the head of his fat cock tracing the lip of san’s lips. his tongue swirled around seonghwa’s tip, eyes rolling into the back of his head as his cock was shoved into his mouth. san let out a gagged groan of some sorts as seonghwa fucked his throat. yunho was surprised that san never once stop fucking you. 

“s–so good,” seonghwa moaned out, eyes closing and eyebrows drawn together as his head tilted back. seonghwa pulled out of san’s mouth with a sick, wet pop! seonghwa fisted his cock a few times so san’s tongue was covered in his precum. “go ahead, share.” 

san tangled his fingers within your hair, dragging you up like you were nothing. yunho couldn’t see your face, nor what san was doing, but he assumed the blood user was kissing you. the image of the two of you doing a nasty french kiss while swapping spit and precum made his own dick hard. 

yunho felt a wave of heat and coldness wash over his body as his hand trailed down to where his own cock was. an obvious tent growing and he was trying to resist the urge to touch himself, here in the middle of the hallway. his eyes remained glued to how san pulled out of you and manhandled you onto further on the bed. 

seonghwa kneels on the bed as both him and yunho watch san tug you into full nelson. your body on full display, pussy leaking and creamy as san wastes no time in shoving his cock back into you. the two of you moaning and yunho swears he can see the bulge of san’s cock appear underneath your belly button. fuck, that’s hot. yunho feels his dick twitch at the sight of seonghwa running the tip of his cock along your stuffed pussy. the mixture of your and san’s sticky seed and juices easily coating his cock. 

his head teases your clit that’s red and swollen and yunho figures san smacked it earlier. you let out a cry, fat tears running down your cheeks as you try to close your legs. but san’s arms and legs keep your pried open for both his and seonghwa’s pleasure. 

“‘s too much!” you cry, but both males laugh at your words. san pulls out slightly open to immediately thrust back into you. his hold on you, keeping you place, breasts bouncing at impact. san repeats the action a few more times as seonghwa lazily nudges his cock against your clit. 

“you can take both of us, can’t you, doll?” san questions, pulling out slightly as seonghwa began to slowly enter you. 

“please–” you beg, head thrown back, panting and a layer of sweat beginning to cover you. seonghwa reaches between the two of you, the head of his cock slowly nedging itself into your dripping pussy. your glossy juices coating his fingers “p–please, too–too–” 

“if you can take san’s fat cock all at once then you can take mine with it,” seonghwa cuts you off, his hands gripping your thighs, nails digging into your thighs leaving crescent shapes in your skin as he inches his cock further inside of you. 

then, with a rough grunt, seonghwa eventually shoves himself further into you. both his and san’s cocks pressed against each other surrounded by your gummy walls that clench around the both of them. moans leaving both males as san starts thrusting up into you. his cock rubbing against seonghwa’s cock, which makes the older male groan in pleasure. 

“t–two cocks an–and you’re still this tight,” he pants out as he also starts moving his hips, him and san establishing a nice rhythm that is the opposite of when san was just inside you. 

you’re rendered to just a moan, babbling mess as your lovers continue to fuck you. your orgasm building up more and more. the head of their cocks take turns abusing your g-spot and filling you up even more with their hot precum. san’s sturdy hands come to grope your breast, squeezing them, along with pinching and pulling at your nipples causing you to let out a cry. your cry is quickly swallowed by seonghwa’s tongue shoving itself into your mouth. 

“fuck– fuckfuckfuck ‘s good,” san moans as he watches you and seonghwa. his thrusts causing his balls to smack against seonghwa’s as he feels himself grow closer to his own orgasm the more you clench around him as he continues to ram into your melty insides. he can’t deny how good seonghwa’s cock feels up against his, he loves when seonghwa or himself force their cock inside of you while the other one is already taking up so much space. 

stuffing you even more than what you claim to take makes him just want to never stop fucking you. and the thought alone is what makes him finally cum. he lets out a string of cussing as his cock paints your insides white. his seed immediately starts dripping out of you and onto the sheets below you all. san pulls out, even more of his seed dripping out, but seonghwa wastes no time in fucking it back into you. 

san holds you in the position he’s had you in as seonghwa drills into you with the full purpose of both him and you coming next. you cry out seonghwa’s name the harder he fucks you. 

“gonna fill you u–up with s-so-so much. stuff my pretty girl with a–all the cum,” seonghwa murmurs in a fucked daze. with one finally thrust you both are coming. seonghwa stills inside of you as he also paints your insides white. 

seonghwa pulls out, eyes locked on how your pussy overflows with the mixture of his and san’s cum. you let out a whine when seonghwa runs a finger through your creamy folds just as san finally releases you from the position he had you in. you watch seonghwa bring his cum-coated fingers to his lips to lick them clean. san presses a kiss to your shoulder as he moves to sit you both up. 

yunho feels his chest tightened, eyes focused as he watches you three. he knew he should leave, he already stayed and watched more than he should have. enjoyed more than he should have. 

what kind of teammate was he to intrude on such a private moment, but damn did it not turn him on watching the three of you. yunho feels a rush of emotions – guilt and jealousy being the main two that he felt. he took one last look inside your room; you, san, and seonghwa sharing light kisses between each other, before he’s turning on his heels and walking down the corridor. 

once yunho is in the safety of his room, he closes his door and finally lets out the breath he had been holding the entire time. every time he blinks, all he can see is the image of san or seonghwa pounding into you. the noises you made echoing in his mind and his hand absentmindedly finds his crotch. he winces when he feels a wet patch on his pants. fuck. when did he come in his pants? 

he feels heat rush to his face as once again thinks about the three of you. his own cock taking no time in getting hard again. 

his ears burn as he lets out a huff, unzipping his pants and pulling his cock out. his other hand comes up to rest against his face, “you’re better than this,” he mumbles to himself. 

yet he can’t help but touch himself, coming all over his hand at the thought of san, seonghwa, and you. 

jeju island – forest path – day

jeju island was a lot denser than you expected it to be. you’ve heard about how this island usually kept to themselves, isolated themselves from the mainland. so officially, they wouldn’t make it easy to get to their village. a boat dropping the two of you off on the island made the dense and thick forest the first thing you see. the dirt path also winding as you both began walking through the forest. you could still hear the sound of distant waves crashing against the shore fills your ears and mixes with the crunching of leaves under your boots. 

hongjoong told you and wooyoung that jeju island refused to have any relations with the hero association. the only reason you both are here is because the association they sent to the island over two weeks ago has been m.i.a. 

speaking of wooyoung, you’re eyes drifted ahead of you where wooyoung is. shoulders stiff and his expression dark. the tension between the two of you is colder than the island’s breeze.

wooyoung throws a glance over his shoulder, gaze sharper than ever. you know he can’t stand you. still bitter about you, san, and seonghwa joining the team. letting himself even be tricked by wonyoung – a demon. he hated you, that much was obvious. 

you remain calm, despite his hostile gaze, hands tucked into your jacket pockets. wooyoung suddenly stops in his tracks, causing you to halt a few steps behind him. 

“i can’t do this,” he says, voice sharp, back still facing you.

“do what?”

“this!” wooyoung finally turns, gesturing between and around you both. “pretend like everything’s fine, like you’re one of us, like you belong on this team!” 

you remain silent, but your silence only fuels his frustrations. 

“i don’t get you,” he snaps, stepping closer. “you’re not suppose to be helping people – saving lives! you’ve fucking killed people, destroyed lives. and yet, here you are, playing pretend hero because the association told you too. you act like you care about the team; yeosang, mingi – grieving him even. but how do we know you mean it, that you aren’t just pretending!”

even if you won’t admit it outloud, his words cut deep. saying you don’t care about yeosang or even mingi. that your grief wasn’t real. you didn’t say anything back, once again remaining silent. showing him any emotions wouldn’t change anything at this point. 

“say something!” he yells, voice echoing throughout the empty path. “anything!” 

but you still wouldn’t say anything to him. wooyoung’s fist clenched tightly, knuckles surely turning white from the force. and before he could stop himself, he lunged at you. 

your eyes widened but you didn’t fight back as he tackled you to the ground. you hit the dirt with a grunt, wooyoung straddling you as his hands wrapped around your throat. despite the death collar, wooyoung dug his fingers into your skin. attempting to cut off your airways. 

“do you even feel anything?” he growls, grip tightening even more. you could feel both bitter heat and coldness seeping from his hands and into your skin. burning you with both fire and ice. “do you even care about anyone? about mingi? about us?”

your expression remained unchanged, eyes staring up at him with a certain emptiness. your face turning unnatural colors from the lack of oxygen. you weren’t fighting back, wasn’t struggling – you were simply… accepting it. 

the sight truly unsettled wooyoung. his breathing coming through in ragged gasps as he stared down at you. then the realization hit him. you weren’t resisting because you didn’t care. you weren’t resisting because in that moment, you truly didn’t mind if you died. 

a sharp pain suddenly shoots through wooyoung’s head, making him release your throat and clutch at his temples. the throbbing pain seared through him as his vision blurred, static buzzing in his vision and ears. wooyoung felt an overwhelming sense of unease flood through him as disjointed and static images flashed through his mind. 

the figure below him shifted in the static, face unrecognizable as he hovered above them. lips moving but no sound coming out. he stumbled off of you, falling to the ground, clutching his head as he tried to make sense of what just happened. “what the hell…” he mutters, voice barely audible.

you sat up slowly, rubbing your throat but choosing to say nothing. you watched him with an unreadable expression, your gaze calm despite the red and purple marks now blooming above your collar. 

for a long moment, neither of you spoke as wooyoung slowly felt the pain subside. the only sound was the wind rustling through the trees. finally, you stood, brushing dirt off your clothes. you took a step towards wooyoung and extended a hand. 

wooyoung’s eyes looked up to meet your calm ones before they flickered down to your outstretched hand. he hesitated, just staring at your hand. then, with a scoff, he pushed himself to his feet on his own, completely ignoring you. 

you weren’t surprised. you nodded your head before turning and continuing down the path towards the town. “let’s keep moving.”

wooyoung now followed a few steps behind, tension between you two thick and palpable. his mind racing, images he’d seen – your empty eyes – still haunting him. he glanced at your back, his frustrations mingling with a strange, yet unfamiliar feeling he couldn’t quite register.

by the time you two reached the outskirts of the town, the silence between you both was deafening. the air heavy and full of unspoken words, unresolved emotions, and something seemingly darker – a tension you couldn’t deny. 

jeju island – town – day

cobblestone streets making winding paths that led the small town as you wandered through it. the ocean breeze carrying a salty tang that mixed with the earthy scent of wet dirt. you could also smell something more… unnatural. like something had been burnt not too long ago and the scent still lingers in the air of the town. you brushed it, after taking several glances around your walk and not able to find anything to support the smell. weird. 

the townspeople were friendly enough on the surface, but you could tell that your appearance in their town made them uncomfortable. not because you were a villain, or had a blink, metal collar around your throat, but the fact that you were just… an outsider. whenever you asked them about the missing hero they were tight-lipped, saying they didn't know anything. faces turned wary, and voices hushed as they avoided your questions.

“excuse me,” you say softly, approaching an older woman, “i’m looking for information about a hero who was here recently. do you know anything?”

you notice the older woman’s face stiffens at the mention of the word ‘hero’. she shakes her head quickly, “we don’t meddle in the hero business here.”

“why not?” you couldn’t help but be curious on why they separated themselves from the rest of the country. 

the woman looked nervously towards the town’s center, you followed her eyes only to find nothing too out of the ordinary. “this is a place of peace,” she begins, speaking lowly so you could only just barely hear her, “heroes bring chaos. you should leave before the dragon god grows angry.”

the woman mutters something else under breath and inaudible to your ears, turning away and leaving before you could ask her anything else. 

“dragon god?”

after that encounter, any other encounters you would be met with cryptic talks of a “dragon god” but the locals refused to explain what, or who, this dragon god. you also heard mentions of a priestess, but again the townspeople would become tight-lipped and turn away when you try to ask them more. it was honestly starting to piss you off.

you approach a younger man, who offers more details as he gathers firewood. but his details only give you more questions than answers. 

“the dragon god protects us… or punches us when we stray.” 

“and what about the priestess?”

the young man pauses for a moment, glances around nervously before speaking in a hushed tone, “she serves the god. keeps the balance. don’t ask too many questions.” before you could press further, he then hurries off back down the path he came from. 

caw! you look over to see a crow sitting on top of a stack of firewood. tilting your head you make eye contact with the bird who seems to mimic your movements. the crow let out one more loud caw before taking off, heading towards the mountains.

“what are you doing here?” you say to yourself before turning and making your way towards the town inn.

jeju island – town inn – evening 

you’re surprised by how warm and small the inn is, with creaky wooden floors and flickering lanterns lighting the inside of the room you and wooyoung booked. you enter the room to find wooyoung sitting by the window, staring out into the night. 

“you’re late,” he says rather flatly, but you ignore his tone. 

“i was asking questions.”

he lets out something that was a mix between a huff and a laugh. “let me guess – no answers?” you don’t need to look at him to see he’s smirking at you, trying to rile you up. 

“they kept talking about a dragon god,” you tell him as you go to sit down on one of the beds in the room. your weight making the mattress slightly sink. 

wooyoung turned to look at you, eyebrow raised, “a dragon god? that’s original.”

“and a priestess, but no one would tell me more about either of them.” 

wooyoung moves from the window to lean against the wall, crossing his arms, “i found out more than you, apparently.”

it was your turn to raise an eyebrow at him, “oh? enlighten me then.”

“the town’s been dealing with a lot of weird stuff. illness spreading for no reason, crops dying out of season, farm animals losing their minds.” 

“sounds like they think their dragon god is punishing them,” you say quietly. 

“or,” wooyoung says, interrupting your thoughts, “it's a villain. or worse – a demon.” a beat of silence passes between the two of you as you exchange a look thanks to his words. seems like he was thinking the same thing you were. 

“if its a demon, the town wouldn’t even realize it. they’d just… worship it.” 

“exactly,” he agrees, “which means that if we find the villain then…” he hesitates for a moment before continuing, “then we’ll probably find our missing hero.”

“or we’ll find his body,” you finish for him. he grimaces a little before nodding. this mission just got a lot more complicated, you think to yourself.

after the discussion, you find yourself settling into a rather tense room. the tension from earlier in the day with wooyoung is still heavy and thick between you. the flickering of the lanterns is the only warmth in comfort in the otherwise cold room. you sit on the edge of the bed, fingers running along the pages of the book you had brought with you. face impassive, but your eyes clearly hold a storm within. 

wooyoung leans against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze burning into you. the silence between you both is thick, but his patience wearing thin. like he can tell that you aren’t fully invested into the book that sits in your lap. 

“does the guilt get to you at all?” wooyoung says, finally breaking the silence. you don’t bother to look up at him, continuing to – at least – attempt to read your book. “does it bother you? eat you alive?”

“i don’t have to answer you, wooyoung,” you say, turning the page of your book, “i don’t owe you anything.” your tone is calm as you speak. 

wooyoung pushes himself off the wall, voice rising slightly as he speaks, “that’s your problem. you don’t owe anyone anything, do you? not an apology, not an explanation – nothing,” with each sentence he moves closer to you. “you think you can just breeze through all this, leaving chaos in your wake.” 

you stood, dropping your book onto the bed, “and you think yelling at me is going to fix anything? you think your anger gives you some kind of moral high ground? grow up.”

wooyoung’s eyes narrowed, fist clenching at his sides, “my anger gives me more moral high ground than you! at least i haven’t killed people out of my anger! how can anyone like you feel anything? or maybe that’s the point – you don’t.”

you feel your jaw tightened, but you refuse to let his words fully penetrate you, “believe what you want. i don’t have to prove myself to you, i’ve done enough already for you and the others.”

“then why are you still here if you’ve proven yourself?” he demands, voice rising. “why don’t you just go back to prison? why pretend to give a damn about any of this?”

your eyes flash with frustration, “you’re the one who keeps pushing, wooyoung. you hate me so much, yet you’re always the first to pick a fight. what do you want from me?”

“i want you to admit it!” he yells, stepping so close that your faces were mere inches apart. “admit that you don’t care, that you’re just waiting for the moment to stab us all in the back!”

you stared at him, you chest heaving from the restrained emotions. don’t lash out, don’t lash out, don’t lash out. “if that’s what you really think,” you say quietly, quieter than what wooyoung would have expected. “then why haven’t you done something about it?”

wooyoung froze, breathing ragged. for a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of your breaths. then, as if something inside him snapped, he surged forwards, hands gripping your face as his lips crashed into yours. 

the kiss was feral, a mixture and collision of anger, tension, and even need that sent a jolt of heat through your body. your initial shock by his sudden action melted into raw desire as you kissed him back just as fiercely. your hands clutching at his shirt and pulling him closer. 

wooyoung let out a low growl from his throat, lips moving hungrily against yours. his hands sliding down to your waist and pulling you flush against him. the heat of his body seeping through the material of your shirt, warming your own body. he pushed you back until your knees hit the edge of the bed, you fell onto the mattress, dragging him down with you. 

the weight of him against you sent a shiver through your body. his heat and ice powers send waves of heat and ice through you. his lips left yours, trailing along your jaw and down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before he sucked hard enough to leave a mark. you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders as your hips bucked up against his instinctively. 

“damn it,” he muttered against your skin, voice rough and filled with frustration. “you drive me insane.” 

“good,” you say back, voice breathless and laced with slight defiance against him. 

his hand slipped under your shirt, his fingers both lithe and calloused, veins bulging from his forearms as he brushed them against your bare skin. he traces the curve of your waist, his touch firm yet somewhat teasing as he pushes the fabric of your shirt higher. a familiar heat pools in your stomach, your body almost aching for more as he leans up to kiss you again. his tongue tangling with yours in a battle for dominance. 

your mouths moved against each other, tongues tangling and teeth grazing as you both sought to dominate the other even if for a moment. your hands slid under his shirt, nails raking down the expanse of his back. wooyoung let out a groan that your lips hungrily swallowed as his hips pressed into yours. you let out a soft moan, legs shifting to wrap around his waist, pulling him even closer than what you thought was possible. 

“y/n,” he moans out, voice filled with a mixture of desire and restraint. he pulls back slightly, lips trailing over your jaw as you both try to catch your breath for a moment. his hands lingered on your bare skin, his fingers trailing dangerously close to your bra before settling on drawing lazy circles just below.

the moment was broken by a sharp noise coming from outside. the two of you froze, breathes heavy and mingling together as you strained to listen. the muffle sound of voices and footsteps filtered in through the window. wooyoung seemed reluctant to push himself off of you, but did so chest heaving. 

“someone’s out there,” he says, voice still thick with the remnants of your heated exchange. you sat up, face feeling flushed and lips swollen. 

you shake your head in an attempt to clear it as you stand up from the bed, “we should check it out then.”

wooyoung nods, jaw tight as he watches you make your way over to the window. eyes lingering on you for a little longer than he probably should have. he snaps out of it after a moment and comes to join you over by the window. 

outside, you see a group of townspeople moving down the street, their lanterns casting an eerie glow. at the center of the group was a young woman dressed in head to toe ceremonial attire, her expression solemn. 

“that must be the priestess,” wooyoung says quietly, almost calmer than it was moments ago. you watch with narrowed eyes, mind racing in an attempt to try and piece all of this together. what in the world could they be doing this late at night with the priestess. why did they all look so solemn and… mournful even.

“this doesn’t feel right.”

“no kidding,” wooyoung says before the two of you are exchanging a glance. then without another word, you two slip out of the inn and into the shadows, following the line of townspeople.  

jeju island – mountain base – night

you managed to follow the townspeople from a distance, careful to stay hidden in the shadows. eventually, the people reached the base of the large mountain, where a cave entrance stood. the entrance was set up like some type of shrine or altar. the villagers then begin chanting, preparing the young woman for what you can only assume to be a sacrifice. 

an unease chill runs down your spine as you watch, “we have to stop this,” you hastily whisper to wooyoung, moving to try and stop them, but he stops you by grabbing your arm. 

“not yet,” he replies quietly. 

“they’re going to kill her– or– or sacrifice her, wooyoung.”

“and we don’t even know what we’re up against yet,” he says harshly. “we need to draw back and come up with a plan. haven’t you said before not to act on anger or emotions?”

you bite your lip, reluctantly going along with his words, fist clenched as the two of you made your way back to the end. once back at the inn, you find yourself sitting on the bed, book in your lap. 

“tomorrow,” you say, turning to look at wooyoung, “we’re going to kill their dragon god.”

“tomorrow.” 

jeju island – town inn – dawn

the glow of dawn seeps through the curtains, lighting up the room in warm tones. you sit on the edge of the bed, tying your boots together. your fingers move like they are on autopilot, your mind going through what feels like ten-million other things all at once. across the room, wooyoung is once again leaning against the doorframe. his gaze heavy as he watches you, clearly conflicted. 

for a long moment, the only sounds in the room are the faint rustle of fabric and the occasional creak of the floorboards as the building settles. 

“so you’re just going to pretend like nothing happened?” he asks, voice almost uncharacteristically soft. 

you freeze for a brief second, fingers halting mid-motion. you swallow hard, tongue wetting your lips before you continue as though he hadn’t said anything. 

he moves forward, voice a little louder, “y/n.”

you finish typing your boots, standing up from the bed to dust some invisible dust off, but you refuse to look at him. “we’ll talk about it later.”

wooyoung lets out a dry laugh, clearly not buying what you said, “later? and when is that? after we deal with this so-called dragon god or maybe if one of us dies then we won’t have to talk about it at all,” his tone is sharp, sharper than what he intended and he notices when you stiffen slightly. 

“we have a mission, wooyoung. personal issues afterwards,” you say still not looking at him. 

wooyoung frowns, stepping closer, “did it not mean anything?” 

you finally turn to him, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment he falters. there’s something almost raw in your gaze, like for the first time since joining the team he’s showing you a clear vulnerability. it only lasts for a split second though before you are trying to cover it. 

“it’s not that it didn’t mean anything. we can’t afford to lose focus right now. not when the townspeople here are in danger.”

“y/n…” 

you look away, jaw tightening as you feel a jumble of words caught in your throat. you feel like you have so many things you want to say to wooyoung, but you can’t find it in yourself to say them. the feeling of his body pressed against yours had lingered in your mind longer than you would have liked to admit. 

you finally let out a sigh, shaking your head as you spoke, “don’t make this harder than it already is.”

your words hang in the air for a moment, cutting through the room like a knife. wooyoung steps back slightly, hand running through his hair as he exhales deeply. before he could say anything; however, you speak up once more. 

“back on the train… mingi promised we would go eat some good food. after we kill this demon…” you pause for a second, wondering if you should continue. “let’s go get something good to eat. and then– and then we can talk like you want.”

the vulnerability in your voice catches wooyoung off guard for a moment, making him pause. his earlier frustrations slowly fade away as he looks at you. its weird, he thinks, in this moment you don’t look like the monstrous villain the hero association has made you out to be, but instead… just a young woman. 

it makes his stomach churn as this mind tells him that maybe this is just a trap, that you are so monstrous that you are faking everything. your true emotions hidden underneath a facade. 

“whatever,” he says with a huff and you turn to him with narrowed eyes, ready to say something, but he cuts you off, “i get to pick though – don’t trust you to know what good food is.” 

he makes his way back over to the door and his words catch you a little off guard. you nod your head and follow after wooyoung who waits at the door. he gets close to you, face inches away from yours. heated eyes looking into yours, “don’t think that one of us dying will stop this conversation, you hear?”

you nod your head once more, before the two of you are stepping out of the room and inn altogether. the situation of last night will remain unresolved for the moment. after all, you had a dragon god to kill.

jeju island – mountain base – morning

the path leading you to the mountain reminds you of the path you took that led you to town. dense with trees, but the air was… colder and heavy fog surrounded the area that you didn’t quite notice last night. you and wooyoung eventually stand at the base, staring at the dark opening of the cave at the base of the mountain. 

“this is definitely the kind of place you’d find something messed up in,” wooyoung mutters, referring to the shrine that stood in front of the cave’s opening. you remember seeing the priestess walking up to it last night. 

“sure is creepy,” you say, looking as an eerie chill running down your spine. 

wooyoung can’t help the smirk that paints his lips at your response. without another word, the two of you move forward, stepping into the shadowy mouth of the cave’s entrance.

the echoing of your footsteps inside the cave gave the place almost a haunting feel. wooyoung’s fire sweeps across the area, illuminating the strange markings on the stone walls – scratches and streaks blood. you both round a corner, flickers of fire catching a horrific sight – a pile of corpse, young women all torn apart and half eating, missing limbs as they drap lifelessly over the rocks. their faces frozen in terror, everything about them was unnatural. 

“oh my god,” you gasped out, stepping back. you press a hand over your mouth, eyes wide. wooyoung grabs your arm gently but firmly, pulling you away from the grotesque scene. this is what was happening to their priestesses? did the townspeople knowingly sacrifice the young women knowing their fate?

“don’t look, just keep moving,” wooyoung says, grip firm. you feel your chest rising and falling rapidly, but you nod and allow him to guide you away from the scene. you both press on deeper into the cave. the haunting chill in the air grows heavier with every step.

jeju island – cave chamber – morning

eventually, you and wooyoung enter a part of the cave that opens up into a vast, dimly lit chamber. at the center of the chamber was a woman who perched lazily atop a group of jagged rocks. from a first glance she appears just as human as you and wooyoung; however, the black smoke that coils around her from her mouth says otherwise. her aura is something that is both dangerous and alluring. 

she opens her eyes and tilts her head to lazily look over at you both who remain rooted in place at the chamber entrance. her eyes are a cloudy white color and you can just faintly read the 상위네 – upper four – in her eyes, like the words were faded and no longer held any meaning. 

she looks at the two of you with an amused face, “well~ what do we~ have here?” her words are droopy and slurred almost, dragging some of the syllables out. she blows a ring of smoke out of her mouth and you watch it change colors before turning to black.  

“she has to be it,” wooyoung says quietly to you, but you refuse to look away from the humanoid looking woman. the woman stretches gracefully like a predator sizing her prey up. 

“i wasn’t expecting guests~ especially~ not from the hero association. you’re far from home, aren’t you?” she speaks like she’s talking to two friends and not her enemy. 

“are you the one they call the dragon god?” you ask steadily, taking a step forward. 

the woman tapes a clawed finger to her chin as if thinking, “dragon god~ is that what they call me? humans are so interesting~ no, the name i was given is soojin,” she then descends from her perch with unnatural fluidity, circling closer to the two of you slowly. “i suppose i can’t blame them~ after all, i do keep them rather… entertained~ sacrifices, prayers, reverence… it’s all very flattering,” she added, voice soft yet dripping in mockery. 

“and the dead woman? was that your idea of some sick entertainment too?” wooyoung asks snapping at soojin. 

she stops, tilting her head before letting out a dry laugh, “oh them~ a necessary inconvenience, i say, power requires fuel, after all~” 

“you’re killing them to sustain yourself,” you say, voice trembling with disgust. 

“of course~” she replies back with a smirk, “isn’t that what survival is? you take, consume, and live.”

“what about the hero? the one who went missing her?” wooyoung asks, that’s right the missing hero was the whole reason you came to this damn island to begin with. 

soojin tapes her chin thoughtfully, “oh, right. him.” she grins, her sharp canine teeth glinting in the dim light. “got a little too nosy for his own good~ the townspeople didn’t like that much, so they dealt with him in their… own way. i could still smell his flesh burning whenever i close my eyes.” 

she spoke so casually it was like a slap in the face, especially to wooyoung whose fists clench at her words. his body trembling with just barely contained fury. soojin’s gaze flickers to wooyoung, smiling slyly, “you’re angry. i can feel it, go ahead, hero boy. give in to it.”

her words are like a spark, igniting his fire. with a growl, wooyoung lunges forward, his fist ablaze as he aims to strike her. 

“wooyoung, wait––

suddenly, soojin stops wooyoung’s fist as if it wasn’t on fire and in turn burning her own hand. both you and wooyoung are in shock, but don't have time to think about it as she grabs wooyoung and flings him across the room like he weighed nothing. wooyoung lands beside you, dusting himself off as he stands. 

her eyes locked onto the two of you, a sharp, predatory smile gleams with a mixture of amusement and malice. “did you think you’d come here and leave unscathed? let me show you why the villagers worship me.”

the air in the chamber thickens, charged with an almost suffocating, oppressive energy. she raises her hands, her claw-like fingers curling unnaturally. her eyes glow – the cloudy white color sends a chill down your spine as you watch the glow slowly begin to burn. black veins crawl across her skin, her body pulsating even more with power. 

the sound of cracking bones echoes through the chamber as her spine arches unnaturally, her body twisting and elongating. a sickening rip accompanies her shoulders expanding outward, massive, jagged wings covered in scales sprout from her shoulder blades. the scales are so light that they seem to absorb what little light there is in the cavern. 

she continues to transform, skin splitting open and instead of revealing flesh, reveals armored scales beneath. horns spiral from her temples, curling upward and her face takes on more dragon-like features. 

the transformation reminds you of when seonghwa turns into his wendigo-form. terrifying and something out of nightmares. 

suddenly, her neck splits with a grotesque tearing sound, forming a second head, then a third. it continued and continued until she was a massive dragon, towering over you and wooyoung with seven vicious heads snapping with power and looking down at you both. her tails lashes violently against the walls of the cavern, shattering several jagged rocks with ease. her wings unfurl and span the width of the cavern, their movements creating powerful gusts of wind.

soojin lets out a roar, her voice amplified as all seven heads speak at once, “kneel before your god!”

the two of you stand frozen for a moment, the monstrous sight before you far worse than what you originally thought. the cavern shakes once more due to her presence alone. debris crashing to the ground as her claws dig into the stone. 

“we’re so screwed,” wooyoung mutters breathlessly and under his breath. 

soojin lashes out with her multiple heads, each one targeting a different area. you and wooyoung are just barely dodging the attacks that come at you one right after the other. 

“wooyoung, we need to take out the heads one by one!” you shout, summoning your sword and easily having one manifest next to wooyoung who tears it out of the ground. 

“great idea,” he says sarcastically, and you stop the roll of your eyes, “which one first, genius?”

before you can respond, one of the heads fire a blinding beam, forcing you to cover your eyes. another head follows with a powerful gust, slamming the both of you into the cavern wall. 

you struggle to your feet, “damnit, we don’t have time for this. why did it have to be seven!? hey, follow my lead.”

you raise your hand, energy flaring as roots and vines erupt from the ground and snake around one of the heads that spits purple smoke. at the same time, wooyoung hurls a torrent of fire at the head that breathes ice, easily melting and stopping its attack. 

“wooyoung! your fire!” you shout through gritted teeth. 

wooyoung nods before channeling a massive flame and you manipulate the roots, turning them into blazing whips that lash at the poison head, severing it with a deafening roar. black blood spills onto the ground, sizzling against the stone. 

“you’ll pay for that!” soojin roars. one head surges forward, lightning and electricity sparking from its mouth which hits wooyoung square in the chest. he collapses to the ground, clutching his chest as smoke rises off his body. 

“wooyoung!” you shout, panic overtaking you and you rush over to him, deflecting another bolt with your sword. 

“i’m fine. i’m fine, just… keep going,” he says grimacing as he attempts to stand. 

another head lunges for them, but you raise your hand, bending the shadows that roll off that head to instead hold it back. 

that’s when you notice the head you severed regenerates. a new head sprouting from the stump and you watch in disbelief as it shakes around, knocking into the two on either side of the regrown head. the other two heads hiss at the newly grown one before turning their attention back to you and wooyoung. 

“are you fucking kidding me?” you pant out. 

“looks like our job just got a little harder,” wooyoung says from next to you. the two of you continue to press on, targeting the heads. wooyoung using his fire and ice powers in rapid succession while you counter and slash at the elemental attacks. 

the chamber is in complete chaos as the battle rages on. the rocky debris rains down, the air thick with smoke and the stench of sulfur that comes from soojin’s fiery breath. you and wooyoung are beginning to feel the effects of the battle weighing down on you both. your uniforms are torn and blood seeping from your wounds leaves the both of you panting and even struggling to stay on your feet.

soojin looms above you, her seven heads rearing back in unison. each head pulses with its own power. her laughter, layered and distorted, echoes through the cavern. 

“is this all the hero association has to offer? you’re weak, pitiful. just like the ones who came before you,” she mocks, voice filled with venom. you grip your sword tightly, knuckles white and your body trembles, not from fear but from exhaustion. you feel your energy pulse through you as you begin to channel what energy you have left. 

“we need to hit her together… y/n?” wooyoung begins to say weakly before glancing over to you. 

but you don’t respond, gaze locked on soojin. your eyes narrowing with unrelenting focus. the air around the cavern begins to shift, distorting like heatwaves. suddenly, the ground beneath you all cracks as a pulse of energy surges outward. your sword begins to flow, vines and roots snaking up from everywhere and even around your blade – as if coming to life. you start to feel weightless, hair lifting slightly like it was caught in an unseen breeze. your eyes glowing faintly with an otherworldly light. 

“what… is this?” soojin snarls, noticing the shift in energy. 

you lift your sword and the cavern seems to respond. jagged stones on the floor rumble, cracks spider webbing outwards. roots erupt from the ground weaving together in haunting patterns, twisting and coiling like serpents, growing rapidly and snurging towards soojin’s monstrous form. 

wooyoung can only watch you as the realization hits him slowly, “she’s… bending reality.”  

soojin’s heads lash out, each one attacking with its unique element. lightning strikes towards you, but a wall of twisting roots rises and absorbs the impact. fire rains down, but vines erupt from the ground and smother the flames. one of the heads lunges for you, only to be impaled by a massive jagged root that bursts upward like a spear. 

you take deliberate steps forward, glowing eyes fixed on soojin. the dragon thrashing against the relentless assault of roots and vines, but they continue to grow, binding her limbs and even snapping her heads back. immobilizing them and her body all together. 

“no more,” you speak, voice otherworldly and with a sudden roar, you thrust your sword into the ground. the entire cavern trembles violently as an enormous tree begins to grow. its trunk spirals upward, thick branches erupting outward and becoming one with soojin’s massive body, legs and wings included. 

the tree branches impale several of soojin’s heads, red energy surging through your body. the demon screams, her monstrous form convulsing, but the roots tighten their grip and drags her body down. 

“what are you–– no! this can’t––

with one final surge of energy, you raise your sword high before slashing downward in one fluid motion. a massive surge of energy courses through the tree and the roots, and ends with a blinding burst of light. 

when the light fades, soojin’s massive dragon form is no longer a threat. in her place is a massive wooden statue, the shape of a seven-headed dragon captured in a grotesque, writhing pose. the statute shines with an unnatural yet intricate patterns – as if the tree itself had absorbed soojin’s essence. 

you collapse to your knees, body trembling from the sheer full force use of power that you haven’t done in a while. the glow in your eyes fades, leaving you looking drained. 

as your vision begins to blur, you feel strong arms catch you before you can fully hit the ground. “y/n… hey, stay with me,” wooyoung says softly. 

you try to speak, but your body refuses to respond. all you can hear is wooyoung’s voice, filled with an uncharacteristic concern as he holds you closely. 

“you scared the hell out of me, you know that?” he whispers, voice shaking slightly. you can only manage out a faint hum as your consciousness fades, but not before you feel the faint warmth of wooyoung’s hand brushing against your face. you hear his voice before you officially pass out, “i’ve got you. good job.”

██████ – inn – morning 

the room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the morning light shining in through the curtains. you stir, body feeling heavy, every muscle aching as if you had been thrown against a wall repeatedly. which wasn’t far from the truth honestly. your eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment you wondered where you were. 

as the haze cleared, the events from the mountain and jeju island flooded back. soojin. dragon god. the battle. and wooyoung…

you attempt to sit up, a sharp pain shooting through your body – your ribs – and you let out a quiet groan. your hand brushes against the coarse sheets of the unfamiliar bed as you glance around. the room was small and sparse with a singular chair pushed against the wall and a small table covered in what looked like rather hastily gathered medical supplies. 

the door creaked open, and wooyoung stepped inside, his presence filling the room in an instant. he froze when he saw you awake, eyes widening slightly before his lips curled into a familiar smirk. 

“well, look who finally decided to stop being a lazy ass,” he says, voice light in a teasing tone. 

“you try fighting… a seven-headed dragon and see how you feel after,” you says hoarse, voice still showing your exhaustion. 

wooyoung’s smirk softened as he shut the door behind him, “fair enough. you’ve been out for three days, had me thinking your were just starting to milk it at this point.”

“yeah, because i love waking up feeling like i got hit by a truck,” you say dryly. wooyoung chuckled, stepping closer and there was something in his expression, though – something softer than usual. he set a glass of water on the table next to your bed, movements slower and more deliberate than what they usually are. 

“where are we?” 

“mainland, some small town with a port. the jeju townspeople weren’t exactly thrilled to see us coming back from the mountain.”

“why not?” you ask frowning. 

wooyoung hesitated, his jaw tightening, “your… power caused a bit of a scene. let’s just say they thought we pissed off their dragon god.”

“of course they do,” you say with a groan, rubbing your hands over your face.

wooyoung chuckled again, voice low and rough, and the sound sent a ripple of something through you. he sat down on the edge of the bed, his weight causing a dip in the mattress. his closeness made the air feel heavier. 

for a moment, neither of you spoke. wooyoung was close enough that you could see a faint bruise on his neck and dried blood on his knuckles. you swallowed hard, the memory of you both fighting together flashing through your mind. 

“can we…” he pauses, voice soft, “talk now?”

“yeah, i guess we should,” you sigh, shifting slightly to face him. 

wooyoung’s gaze dropped to his hands, his fingers fidgeting as if suddenly nervous to speak, “back at the inn… when i kissed you…” he trails off.

you raise an eyebrow at him, lips twitching into a faint smirk despite the bubbling tension that is slowly beginning to resurface. “what, you think it was a ghost or something that made you kiss me?”

wooyoung’s head shot up, startled and for a second you saw the faintest hint of vulnerability in his eyes. then, he laughed – a short breath sound as he shook his head. 

“i’m serious, y/n,” yet there’s a grin on his face. 

“so am i, people do things in the moment. maybe it wasn’t that deep.”

his brows furrowed as he looked at you, voice dropping to an almost whisper, “it felt deeper. like… like something i couldn’t control.” 

you felt your chest tightened, the weight of his words sinking in. you studied him, your teasing energy completely gone now. 

“why are you telling me this? i thought you hated me?” you ask quietly.

wooyoung’s eyes meet yours, the intensity in them making your stomach flip, “because i can’t stop thinking about it. about you, you really do drive me crazy.”

the air between you both thickened, the tension that had been building up between the two of you now fully at the surface. wooyoung leaned in slightly, his hand brushing against yours where it rested on the bed. the touch sent a jolt through you, but you didn’t pull away. 

“wooyoung…” you say breathlessly.

“tell me to stop, and i will,” he says softly, but you don’t. instead, you close the distance between the two of you, lips crashing into his in a way that stole your breath away. wooyoung responded instantly, his hands cupping the back of your head as he pulled you closer. the kiss felt intense as a series of emotions spilled out from the both of you at once. 

wooyoung’s free hand slides down to your waist, his fingers gripping you as if you would disappear at any moment. your hands fisted his shirt, pulling him closer, basically needing him closer.

when you finally broke apart, gasping for air, wooyoung rested his forehead against your. breathes mingling in the, for the first time, comfortable silence. 

“so… about that food you promised me?” you asked breathless, faint smirk painting your lips. 

wooyoung let out a soft laugh, as you separate a little bit, “later. definitely later.” 

“at least the jeju people are safe now,” you say, leaning back against the headboard, looking at wooyoung. you notice how the hero has a sudden grime look on his face. “wooyoung… what’s wrong?” 

he doesn’t say anything for a moment and it has to be the longest moment of silence as you wait for him to speak up. a hand runs through his hair as he lets out a stuttered sigh, “about that…”

“wooyoung?” 

“the hero association sent out an order two days ago,” he begins to explain, standing up from the edge of the bed. “i think… it's better for you to come see it for yourself.” he says, holding a hand out for you to take. 

you look between his hand and his eyes, which avoid yours like the plague, and back down to his hand before taking it. 

██████ – dock – morning 

“what the fuck,” you say, voice trembling as you look out at the sea before you. wooyoung stands next to you also looking straight ahead. “wh– what, what did the association do?”

in the distance where jeju island use to be instead housed a large crater in the center of the sea. jeju island was completely gone, no trace of the island left. 

“they made the order to wipe the island out,” he says grimly, “in order to… stop any of the evil from the island to escape. they said the whole island was a liability and we couldn’t take the chance.”

“and you just let them do it!” you turn, rage boiling over as you look at wooyoung with a heated glare. “we stopped the evil that was on the island! those townspeople weren’t the evil, wooyoung! that fucking demon was!” 

the ground beneath the both of you and the dock shook with your anger. the people on the dock screamed and ran for safety away from the water. wooyoung looked to see a large wall of water building up in the distance, panic set in as he looked back at you. 

“y/n! stop it, i understand you’re upset but please!” he says, grabbing your hand, eyes shaking in fear at the large wave coming towards the dock. it would surely wipe the dock – if not the town – out in one swoop. 

suddenly, a pain shoots through wooyoung’s head, “not… now,” he hisses out as his vision is clouded with static. wooyoung then falls to his knees, his nails digging into your hand as images of a faceless figure – covered in blood, stood in front of him. 

“...young! woo… wooyoung! wooyoung, hey, are you alright?” your voice breaks through the static as it begins to fade away. wooyoung lets out a sharp gasp, eyes wide as he meets your concerned ones. in a panic he looks around the two of you to see…

everything is calm around you both. no one running and screaming and no large wall of water rushing towards the docks. he must have imagined it, he thinks as he looks to meet your eyes. 

“you okay? scared me there for a second,” you say standing up, wooyoung didn’t even realize he was still clutching onto your hand as tightly as he was. 

“sorry,” he says, shaking his head. he tries to stand but notices you holding your hand out for him. wooyoung hesitates for a moment before taking it and letting you help him up. “we should head back, an agent should be meeting us here soon.” 

“okay,” you say, softly, following next to wooyoung. the hero looks behind him one last time, the large water crater being a haunting reminder of your mission together.

ACT V: SUNRISE COUNTDOWN

██████ compound – outside area – night 

the forest around you was eerily still, the crunch of boots on gravel and the occasional crackle of the a comm unit the only sounds breaking said silence. you and the other seven members of ateez had fanned out, moving carefully through the dense brush towards the perimeter of a hero compound that had become radio silent about a week or two ago. 

“i bet i can make it to the compound first,” you hear san’s voice through the comm, and you knew he had a smirk on his face. 

“in your dreams. i’m already halfway there,” wooyoung snickers. 

“focus,” jongho says, he tries but fails to hide his amusement. 

“enough,” hongjoong’s commanding tone comes through next, “we’re not here to play games. stay vigilant.” 

“relax, captain,” you say teasingly. “i’ll beat them all there and scope it out for you.” 

“y/n, don’t rush in alone—

your comm went silent as you crossed the final stretch to the compound’s perimeter. quirking an eyebrow, you stepped through the broken gate and into the seemingly abandoned facility. 

“victory is mine,” you say smugly over the comms. you hear the other’s voices crackled in protest, but then hongjoong’s voice cuts through. 

“y/n, be careful. something’s off,” he says sternly. you can’t help but roll your eyes, brushing his concerns aside. 

“relax, i’ve got this,” you say casually. you enter the compound, and can immediately feel the atmosphere shift. the air was thick, oppressive, and carried a faint metallic tang that sent a chill down your spine and churn to your stomach. you knew that smell a little too well. the hallways were bathed in a dull, pulsing red glow of the emergency lights. casting ominous shadows that moved and danced with every step you took. 

quietly, you spoke into your comms, feeling as if you weren’t alone, “something happened here.” your voice crackled through the comm, but before anyone could respond, the connection distorted and faded. 

“y/n–– what’s—- on?” san’s voice is faint, cutting in and out. 

“y/n, get — there. — for backup,” hongjoong’s voice is next, coming in just as distorted and urgent. 

their voices dissolved into static. alone in the red, dim corridors, you pressed on. the destruction became more evident with each step: walls scarred by scorch marks, debris littering the floor, and even deep gouges in the metal that you knew were the results from a violent fight. 

you’re starting to think the heroes at the compound didn’t make it out of this fight alive. 

when you finally reached the commons room, you couldn’t help but freeze, breath hitching. the sight before you was nothing short of a nightmare. 

a woman sat on the couch, her posture relaxed, a faint, chilling smile on her lips. you couldn’t deny how extremely beautiful she was. almost inhumanly so. what was around was not as beautiful though, the heroes who once inhabited the compound lay sprawled on the floor, their bodies mauled and lifeless. blood pool beneath them, limbs separated from their original bodies and scattered about. the metallic scent now suffocating at the source. 

“ah~ you must be y/n,” the woman asks smoothly. you feel your throat going dry, heart pounding in your ears. 

“who… who are you?” you asked. 

the woman rises gracefully, when she speaks, you can tell she is mocking you, “i’ve been dying to meet you. nicha yontararak. at your service.” 

that name… you feel a chill go down your spine. “you’re the leader of the villain alliance,” you say firmly, trying to mask your previous shock, “why are you here?” 

nicha stepped closer, her movements deliberate, almost predatory. “why~ to offer you a place among us, of course.”

“i thought you wanted me dead,” you say, sending a glare her way.

nicha laughed, the sound cold and detached, like she never learned how to properly laugh. “oh, i did. but then i realized… killing you would be such a waste. you’re powerful, y/n. more powerful than you even realize. more powerful than those weak heroes you have been forced to work for. let me help you unlock that potential. join me, i can turn you into a demon. imagine the strength you could wield.” 

you could only stare at her, mind racing before you decided to speak, “i’d rather die than become a demon.”

you watched the smile fade from her lips, expression hardening as she spoke. “what a shame.”

without warning, the air around them rippled with intense energy. nicha raised a hand, and a deafening explosion ripped through the compound. fire and debris consuming everything around you and for a moment it all felt like it was going in slow motion. 

until it suddenly wasn’t.

the rest of the team were closing in around the compound when the explosion shook the ground beneath them. shockwaves of energy and debris on fire flew around them, catching the trees around the compound on fire. 

“y/n!” san shouted, eyes wide as he felt his heart begin to pound in his chest. legs carrying him and the rest of the team faster towards the blown up compound. debris raining down as fire roared into the sky. 

yeosang was the first to reach the heart of the wreckage. his eyes scanning the devastation before landing on two grotesque figures amidst the rubble. 

“no…” he says horrified, “no! no! no!” he screams as he sees you lay motionless, body burned and disfigured from the explosion. yeosang felt bile build up in his throat as he slowly begins to register that you’re dead. 

beside you, nicha’s body was regenerating, the grotesque and gory process of bones reconstructing with muscle wrapping around it, and flesh and skin slowly knitting it together in an unnatural display of power. 

san appears next to yeosang, when he appeared yeosang wasn’t sure, but the hero could easily feel the rage rolling off of san in waves. 

“YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS!” he roars, charging towards nicha, blood particles wrapping around his fist, but before he could land a blow, the villain leader snapped her fingers. 

hanok doors appeared beneath their feet, the doors sliding open and engulf each of the members of team ateez into the infinity castle. 

“i’d like to see you try!” she said laughing. her laugh echoing throughout the area and even deeper into the infinity castle as it swallows the team whole and sucks them deeper and deeper into the endless dimension. 

infinity castle – all members

the team was descending through the endless void of the castle. their bodies suspended in an endless descent. around them, walls of the castle stretched and twisted, a labyrinth of shift platforms, endless staircases, and hanok doors that lead to both nowhere and anywhere at once. the air shimmers around them with an unnatural, oppressive energy that seemingly pressed against their chests and dulled their senses. 

from the holes in the walls, demons and villains alike peered out, their faces illuminated by the faint, mockingly warm glow from the castle. some of the demons had glowing eyes that followed the falling heroes and villains with predatory curiosity, while the villains whispered to one another, voices echoing eerily. 

“what is this place?” yeosang whispers to himself as he can’t even begin to take in everything around him. 

“nicha! face us!” san yells, his voice angry and bouncing off the labyrinth walls of the castle. eventually, being swallowed by the ever-shifting platforms. 

as yunho fell past a platform, his eyes meet with a familiar figure, breath suddenly caught in his throat. from one of the millions of platforms, yeonjun stood watching, his eyes burning. their gazes locked for a brief moment, enough for yeonjun’s lips to curve into a cruel smile before yunho could no longer see him. 

“yeonjun…” he whispers, remembering the name you told him and the file that the association had on yeonjun before he joined the villain alliance. before yunho could even dwell on it further, the falling abruptly ended. 

the team separated within the castle’s labyrinth as they landed on different platforms. the ground solid but unnervingly warm beneath their feet. some of the platforms floated in the air, connected by narrow bridges or staircases that seemed to shift and move on their own accord. no group could see or hear the others, the vast emptiness of the castle stretching endlessly. 

infinity castle – yeosang and jongho

the air was heavy and stagnant as yeosang and jongho stood back to back. the infinity castle’s unnatural energy sending a faint hum through the otherwise silent area. 

“what even is this place?” yeosang asks, looking around.

jongho didn’t answer immediately, his eyes scanning the area. they soon began walking cautiously across one of the only few usable bridges. yeosang pointed ahead of the two of them, jongho following the older’s finger and gaze. 

“look, a crow,” yeosang says quietly. the black crow perched on a railing ahead, beady eyes fixed on them. watching them. “how does a bird end up here?” 

“probably a spy. let’s be careful around it,” jongho says and yeosang nods, not fully able to take his eyes off the animal. 

the bird then let out a loud caw, flapping its wings before disappearing into a hole in the wall. the two of them continued forward until they reached a large platform. 

the sound of someone walking, their footsteps echoing around the area, has both heroes snapping their heads to the sound. that’s when they see a figure emerging from the shadows – a young man with silver hair and a lopsided smile. his unnatural, bright blue eyes clearly show off the fact that he is a twelve moon. his eyes reading 상위다섯 – upper five – and the fact sends a chill down both jongho and yeosang’s spines. 

the demon lets out a deep laugh, “well, well,” he says cheerfully, “look who’s wandered into my little corner! welcome to my domain!” the lighthearted tone of the silver demon caught the two of them off guard.  

“who are you?” yeosang asks, immediately on the guard. the demon was too relaxed, but then again him and jongho were technically the intruders. 

the demon lets out another laugh, running a hand through his hair to brush it out of his face, “felix, upper five, and i’ll be your entertainment for tonight.” 

infinity castle – yunho

yunho printed down a corridor, watching as it shifted and changed with every turn. the walls around him twisted and contorted with doors appearing and vanishing as he continued to run. his sword cutting through weaker demons with such ease that he didn’t even need to blink twice. yunho was so focused that he didn’t even hear the shrieks filling the air from the demons as they dissolved into nothing. the infinity castle swallowing them up.

his focus was so narrow it was a surprise that he could even still see what’s ahead of him. his fists clenching the hilt of his sword tightly. he remembers when the hero association delivered swords to everyone – at the time he didn’t think he would ever need to use it. demons weren’t something anyone saw, a myth. 

how wrong he turned out to be. 

“yeonjun…” he says quietly. the name sounds like a curse, but yunho is determined to find the demon.

as he rounded another corner, the corridor opened into a vast hall. he paused, chest heaving, knuckles white around the hilt of his sword. yunho could feel the presence of something stronger. something waiting for him deeper within the castle’s labyrinth.

infinity castle – seonghwa, san, and wooyoung

the three moved as a unit, their fighting instincts clearly taking over as they cut through and battled hordes of demons. wooyoung’s fire and ice burning through the weaker ones, while seonghwa’s brute strength and san’s precision strikes with his blood made for quick work with the rest. 

the platform they fought on was massive, platforms above platforms along with stairs and bridges stacked high above them and stretched into the void. from the shadows of one of the platforms, a figure watched them, unmoving. their multi-colored eyes watching them with almost peaked interest. 

“stronger than i expected…” they said, none of the three noticed the figure, focus locked on clearing the enemies around them.

infinity castle – hongjoong

hongjoong landed in a vast, open space, the air seemingly cracking with energy. the platform beneath him was circular… different from all the other platforms and structures he passed when he was original falling. he took cautious steps forward, his senses on high alert. 

he needed to find the others; hopefully, they were okay. at least as okay as anyone could be in the hellish place. 

a voice cut through the silence, smooth and almost familiar. 

“looking for someone?” 

hongjoong spun around, eyes narrowing as they landed on…

“no way… hyunjin? the– the hero association reported you as k.i.a almost a year ago?” hongjoong took in the sight of hyunjin before him, he was clearly no longer the high ranking hero, but instead a demon dressed in deep crimson robes. his unnatural yellow eyes burning with the words 상위하나 – upper one – sent an agonizing chill down his body, and his stomach twisted with the slow realization of what hyunjin has done. 

hyunjin smirked at hongjoong’s reaction, eyes glowing faintly as he spoke, “the hero association only makes reports for their own convenience. you out of everyone should know that.” 

the tension between the hero and former hero was thick as they sized each other up, the faint hum of the infinity castle’s energy glowing louder and louder. 

infinity castle – yeosang and jongho

the platform trembled beneath jongho and yeosang’s feet, the vast endlessness of the infinity castle stretched around them. felix stood a few feet away, his silver hair catching the faint orange glow that illuminated the castle. the demon’s demeanor was relaxed, almost amused, as he spun his blade in lazy circles.

“you two look tense. don’t worry,” he says with a sick grin, “i promise to make this fun.”

jongho steps forward, voice hard as he speaks, “we’re not here to play.”

“you’re not walking out of here, demon,” yeosang says just as firmly. 

felix chuckled, his posture unchanging, “big words for little heroes. let’s see if you can back them up.” 

without warning, felix thrust his hand forward, water surging from the ground in a massive wave, crashing towards jongho and yeosang. jongho braced himself, planting his feet as the water slammed into him. his indestructible body held firm, though the sheer force pushed him back slightly. 

“yeosang!” jongho yells through gritted teeth. 

yeosang raised his arms, eyes glowing as the ground beneath them cracked and split. skeletal soldiers clawed their way to the surface, jagged weapons gleaming against the lanterns of the castle. they surged forward, intercepting felix’s second wave of water. 

felix lets out a hearty laugh, “oh, that’s adorable. you brought friends!” felix twirled his blade, water surrounding him forming into sharp tentacles. with a flick of his wrist, the tentacles lashed out, slicing through the skeletons like paper. 

“he’s faster than i thought,” yeosang says with a frown, eyes watching the upper fifth rank demon closely. jongho charges forward, his fist glowing with raw energy as he aimed a punch at felix. the demon sidestepped effortlessly, his movements fluid as water. 

“nice try, but you’ll need more than brute strength to touch me,” he says with a grin. felix countered with a spinning kick, a blade of water slicing through the air and catching jongho across the chest. the force sent him stumbling back, blood seeping from the wound. 

“i’ve taken worse,” the younger hero says through gritted teeth. 

yeosang unleaded another wave of skeletal warriors, their bone weapons clashing with felix’s water tentacles. he darts around the chaos, focus sharp as he tries to find an opening. felix moved like a dancer, weaving through the attacks with a grace that bordered on supernatural. well… he was a demon after all. 

“is this really the best the heroes have to offer? no wonder you all are killed so easily,” felix says with a mixture of teasing and mocking tone. 

the taunt hit a nerve, making yeosang clench his fists, summon a massive skeletal knight that charged felix with a thunderous roar. felix narrows his eyes, smile fading for the first time. he spins his blade, a torrent of water swirling around him like a shield. the knight’s sword struck the barrier, shattering it but losing momentum because of the attack. felix lunged forward, driving his blade through the knight’s chest and having it crumble into ash. 

“you won’t take us down that easily!” yeosang says, voice trembling with determination as he raised his hands higher. the glow in his eyes intensifying. the ground erupted again and even more skeletal soldiers clawed their way up. they immediately charged at the demon in coordinated assaults, giving jongho the opening he needed for his own attack. 

jongho surged forward, ignoring the pain in his chest, and landed a solid punch to felix’s side. the demon’s body jerked from the impact, and he let out a grunt in surprise. 

“not bad,” he said breathlessly and with a smirk, “but not good enough.” felix retaliated with a surge of water that struck jongho square in the chest and sent him flying into one of the main moving walls. the crack of impact echoed in the empty space. 

“jongho!” yeosang called out with worry for his teammate. he then sprinted towards the younger hero, throwing up a barrier of skeletons to block felix’s next attack. he knelt beside jongho, who was bleeding heavily but still conscious.

“don’t… stop…” jongho says weakly. felix approached, his blade dripping with water. 

“how touching,” he said mockingly, “but you’re only delaying the inevitable.”

yeosang stood, his jaw clenched. “the only person delaying the inevitable is you,” he says before drawing on every ounce of power he had, his body trembling with strain. the skeletal soldiers around him grew larger, their weapons sharper. the air around them all seemed to darken as yeosang unleashed his full strength. 

jongho attempted to stand up, to help his teammate, but yeosang stopped him. “stay down. i’ll handle this.” 

he charged felix, a skeletal army following close behind. the demon’s expression shifted to one of focus as he met the attacks head-on. the platform trembled under the intensity of all the power and fighting. jongho, despite his injuries and what yeosang said, still pushed himself to his feet. 

“i’m not letting you do this alone.”

he joined the fray, fists glowing as he struck felix with everything he had. together, jongho and yeosang managed to push felix back, their combined strength surprising the demon 

“you’re persistent, you bastards… i’ll give you that.”

felix unleashed a devastating wave, catching both heroes off guard. jongho shielded yeosang, taking the brunt of the attack, the force left him barely standing. felix, seeing this, took advantage of their weakened states, driving his blade through yeosang’s side. blood sprayed the ground as yeosang let out gasp, collapsing to his knees. 

“jongho…” yeosang called out weakly. jongho let out a thunderous roar of his own, connecting his fist with felix’s jaw in a final, desperate attack. the impact cracked the demon’s neck, making felix stumble back, blood dripping from his mouth. in an effort to make sure he stayed dead, jongho took felix’s sword and made a clean cut through, serving the demon’s head from his body. 

felix’s head rolled along the ground, “not bad… heroes…” his body then dissolved into ash. 

jongho staggered over to yeosang, collapsing beside him. both of them were covered in blood, breaths shallow. 

“hyung… you did it,” jongho says softly, placing a trembling hand on yeosang’s shoulder. 

“we did it,” he replied back weakly. 

“rest now, hyung, you’ve done well,” his voice breaking in the process.

yeosang’s eyes fluttered closed, his breathing stopping. jongho let out a shuddering breath, tears running down his cheeks, his own body finally giving out as he slumped beside his teammate. the platform fell silent, the glow of the castle dimming around them. 

infinity castle – yunho

yunho moved through the ever shifting halls of the infinity castle. his boots pounded against the floor, each step echoing with determination. the castle seemed alive, walls writing and corridors twisting as if purposely trying to confuse him. weaker demons emerged from the hidden shadow filled nooks, their grotesque forms screeching and attacking him. 

they didn’t last long. 

with every swing of his sword, yunho craved through them effortlessly. his indestructible body easily ignoring their claws and teeth. blood splattered across the walls as he tore through all the creatures, his breath steady but his heart still pounding wilding in his chest.

his mind felt like a whirlwind of memories and emotions, each step driving him deeper into the castle – deeper into his own grief. 

memories of mingi – the two of them becoming heroes together and fighting together. he remembers first meeting mingi. it was back at vanguard college, right after–

right after you were arrested by the association. 

he regrets not living a better life with either mingi or you. the two of you deserved better. mingi deserved better parents that accepted his hero status and you… you deserved to have been treated better by everyone else. 

he was the top hero and yet he couldn’t protect either of you. he regrets it a lot, he felt like he hadn't even gotten over griefing mingi before you were killed by nicha. 

suddenly, yunho was ripped out of his thoughts as he stumbled into a large chamber. he took a deep breath in an attempt to steady himself, grief still clawing at his throat. not now. he barely noticed the faint sound of something – someone – landing behind him until they spoke. 

“lost in thought, golden hero?” 

yunho turned around, eyes narrowing as he faced yeonjun. the demon was lounging against a pillar, his lithe form cloaked in a faint red, dangerous glow. his smirk is sharp and predatory. 

“yeonjun,” yunho hisses his name out angrily. yeonjun pushes off the pillar, clapping his hands mockingly

“you made it further than i thought, you’re strong. i’ll give you that, but strength doesn’t bring back the dead, does it?” he says mockingly and even tops it off with a laugh. 

yunho’s fists clenched, his anger flaring around him, “you killed mingi,” he says coldly. the grip on his sword tightened the longer he looked at yeonjun. his crimson eyes that read 상위삼 seemingly mocking yunho’s very existence. 

yeonjun tilted his head, mimicking like he was in thought, “he put up a good fight – too bad he died so easily.”

that was the final straw for yunho. he charged, ground cracking beneath his feet. his blade collided with yeonjun’s outstretched arm. the impact sending a shockwave through the chamber. yeonjun grinned, his own strength pushing yunho back.

the two of them clashed, each strike reverberating through the infinity castle itself. yunho’s punches and slashes of his sword were fast and relentless, easily switching between the two attack types thanks to his high combat skills. his indestructible body also allowed him to take yeonjun’s brutal counters without faltering. 

yeonjun was like a blur as he moved, his demon-enhanced speed and skill making his a vicious opponent against yunho. the hero has honestly never gone up against someone who matched his strength. he watched at the demon dodged and weaved, landing precise hits that would have shattered bones if it was anyone else. 

“you’re good,” yeonjun teased, grin never fading, like he was enjoying the fight, “better than i expected, but you’re not unstoppable.”

yunho didn’t respond, his focus razor-sharp. he had to kill yeonjun. he had to avenge mingi. he landed a blow to yeonjun’s ribs, the crack audible. yeonjun barely even winced as he quickly countered it with a roundhouse kick, the force sending yunho skidding back a few feet. 

blood dripped from both of them as the fight dragged on, neither one refusing to give up. yeonjun smirked, bloody fangs being proudly shown off. 

“you’re burning out, aren’t you? heroes always do.”

yunho’s chest heaved, he could feel his energy flicker slightly. he gritted his teeth; however, forcing himself to stand tall. 

“you don’t get to win, not after what you’ve done,” yunho says through clenched teeth. 

yeonjun laughed, circling the hero like a predator. “and what are you going to do? die like your friend?”

the mention of mingi seemed to reignite yunho’s fury. he drove forward, his movements fueled by determination. he managed to catch yeonjun off guard, landing a devastating punch that sent the demon crashing into a wall. an outline of his body appearing in the wall, showing off the sheer strength yunho used in that punch. yeonjun pushed himself up, wiping the blood that seeped from his lips. 

“not bad,” he was still grinning, but more weakly now. 

yunho held his sword, blade shining against the lanterns of the castle. he lunged, aiming for yeonjun’s neck. the demon dodged, yunho’s blade and yeonjun’s fist clashing together. as the fight continued to rage on, yunho felt his strength slowly begin to leave him. his vision blurring a little, muscles screaming in protest. 

yeonjun clearly noticed, smirk widening, “looks like you’re out of time.” a crow’s caw echoed through the chamber, drawing yeonjun’s attention for a fraction of a second. 

it was all yunho needed. 

with a roar, he drove his sword down through yeonjun’s neck, the blade covered in blood that splattered across the floor as he severed the demon’s head from his body. 

yeonjun’s eyes widened in shock, blood running out of the corner of his lips. “impossible…” 

the demon’s body began to disintegrate, head and body fading into ash. yunho collapsed to his knees, sword clattering to the ground next to him. blood poured from his wounds, breathing shallow. he smiled faintly, vision growing dim. 

“i’ll… see you guys soon,” he says softly as he falls to the ground, eyes closing.

infinity castle – seonghwa, san, and wooyoung

the walls of the infinity castle pulsed and shifted once more, again and again, as seonghwa, san, and wooyoung pressed forward, their steps heavy with determination. san’s fists were clenched, using his blood powers to tear through any demon that got in their way. his way. 

“i’ll kill her. i’ll kill that bitch nicha for what she did,” he says through gritted teeth. 

seonghwa placed a comforting hand on san’s shoulder, his voice calm but laced with sorrow, “we’ll make her pay, but don’t let your anger consume you. y/n wouldn’t want that.”

san’s jaw tightens as he turned to seonghwa, his red-rimmed eyes filled with anguish. “i just… i can’t believe she’s gone. she was stronger than the both of us, of all of us,” he says, quietly. 

seonghwa’s expression softened as look at his lover, “she wouldn’t want us to give up,” he says softly, yet firmly at the same time. 

the three of them continued deeper into the castle until the air suddenly grew heavy, colder. a figure emerged from the shadows – a young man with surprisingly soft features and an unsettlingly carefree grin. his multi-colored eyes shined bright with 상위둘 – upper two – was written across his eyes. 

“oh,” he began to say amused, “i’ve been waiting for you three. not every day the upper ranks get so many visitors. i’m beomgyu, upper rank two~” 

san’s eyes narrowed as blood covered his fist, “get out of our way,” he spits angrily. 

the demon tilted his head, grin widening, “and miss out on the fun? not a chance.”

san didn’t wait for another word, lunging forward with a surge of crimson energy. his blood whip lashed out, aiming for the beomgyu’s throat, but he sidestepped effortlessly. 

“is that all you’ve got?” he said, laughing.

san, seonghwa, and wooyoung began to fight with coordinated attacks. san’s blood weapons slashed through the air, seonghwa shapeshifting his fist into clawed weapons and enhancing his speed and strength, while wooyoung unleashed blasts of fire and ice that alternated. 

beomgyu was a blur of motion, evading their strikes with almost playful ease. like he wasn’t taking this fight seriously at all. like the three were just entertainment for him. when wooyoung landed a fiery punch that scorched a large hole into beomgyu’s side, the demon laughed as his skin regenerated almost instantly. 

“you’ll have to try harder than that,” he teased. 

san sent a wave of blood spikes towards beomgyu. the demon’s hand transformed into a ice blade, slicing through the spikes as if they were paper. beomgyu retaliated, slashing at san’s arm with blinding speed. blood sprayed as san’s arm was severed at the elbow, coating the ground beneath him with blood. 

“san!” seonghwa yelled panicked. 

san staggered for a moment before using the blood pouring from his wound to form a massive spear. “i’m not done yet!” he hissed, fiercely. 

he then hurled the spear with all his strength, the attack forcing beomgyu to dodge. seonghwa and wooyoung seized the moment, striking at the same time in almost complete unison. seonghwa’s claws raked across beomgyu’s torso and wooyoung’s icy fist froze a portion of the demon’s chest. 

for a moment, it seemed like they had the upper hand. 

but beomgyu’s grin turned vicious as his body adapted and easily regenerated. his movements became even faster, his strikes more precise. icy tendrils erupted from his back, one of them impaling seonghwa through the shoulder. 

“damnit…” seonghwa grunted out. 

wooyoung then notice san swaying, his face pale. “san, you’re losing too much blood,” he says alarmed. 

san clenched his teeth, shaking his head, “i can’t… i can’t die here. not before nicha– 

wooyoung cuts him off, “rest. both of you.” wooyoung steps forward, his flames flaring brighter than they ever had. 

wooyoung launched himself at beomgyu, whole body ablaze as each punch a wrapped in a deadly combination of fire and ice that seemed completely impossible to achieve. beomgyu grinned, dodging and taunting him. spurring wooyoung on with each attack. 

“you’re persistent, i’ll give you that~ but you’re really starting to bore me,” he says mockingly.

with blinding speed, beomgyu slashes through wooyoung’s defenses, his icy blade carving deep, deadly wounds into the hero. 

“this was fun~ but it looks like our time is over,” he says with a bored expression as he throws his ice blade against the floor, letting it shatter into a million ice shards that go flying around the area.

he turned, leaving the three behind as his laughter echoed against the halls.

the air was thick with the stench of blood. the once vivid flames of battle that engulfed the area was now reduced to faint embers. the fire being quickly and unexpectedly put out by an icy blade. seonghwa’s trembling hand reached for san, his body dragging across the blood-slicked floor. his vision was blurry, strength fading with every breath. 

“san…” he trailed off weakly, voice cracking as he calls out to his lover. 

san stirred, his remaining arm twitching as he forced himself to look at the seonghwa. blood dripped from his mouth, his face pale and somber. tears streaked through the grime and sweat on his cheeks as he looked towards the silver-haired villain – the ends of his hair dyed with blood. 

“hwa… i couldn’t… i couldn’t protect you… or y/n…” he chokes out, voice hoarse. 

seonghwa coughed violently, crimson staining his lips as he mustered the last of his strength to reach san’s hand. he intertwined their fingers, his touch weak but grounding to the both of them. 

“you did your best… you always do,” he says softly, a faint smile painting his lips. 

san shook his head, tears continuing to fall freely. “don’t say that,” he pleads, “don’t give up! we– we can still fight. i just… fuck– i need to get up. i need to… kill nicha. we can’t let her win!”

seonghwa’s thumb brushed over san’s knuckles, a slow and deliberate motion. “sannie… it’s okay. you don’t have to fight anymore,” seonghwa says soothingly. 

san’s sobs wracked through his body as he leaned forward in order to rest his forehead against seonghwa’s. “hwa… do you think we’ll see her again? do you think… y/n will be waiting for us?”

seonghwa’s smile wavered, his voice just barely steady as he spoke softly, “i know she will. she’s probably scolding us already for taking so long.”

san let out a weak, tearful laugh that quickly changed into a choked sob. seonghwa coughed again, breaths shallow and uneven, but he still managed to lift his free hand to san’s face. caressing him softly as he wiped the tears away with his thumb, his own eyes beginning to close. 

“i’ll find you, both of you,” he whispers to san, “in the next life… we’ll be together again.”

san’s cries grew quieter as seonghwa’s hand fell limp, his head resting against san’s shoulder. 

“don’t leave me… please hwa…” he pleads with a whisper. his tears slowed as his breathing weakened. his head tilted back against the wall, eyes gazing into the shifting void of the infinity castle. 

“wait for me, hwa… y/n.. i’ll find you too,” his voice soft, yet fading. his final breath escaped in the a faint sigh, his body slumping beside seonghwa, their hands still clasped tightly together.

a short distance away, wooyoung laid sprawled on the cold, blood-covered floor. his chest rose and fell with labored breaths. blood pooling beneath him. the fiery determination that once burned in his eyes has dimmed. instead replaced by a deep, aching sorrow. 

through his hazy vision, a figure appeared above him, like an angel bath in an ethereal light. what is an angel doing in this hellscape? his heart clenched as he recognized her. 

“y/n…? is it really you?” he asks weakly, voice trembling. you smile was soft and warm, eyes filled with a kindness that felt… almost familiar and something he hasn’t seen in years. you knelt beside him, your hands gently cradling his face. 

“it’s me, woo,” you say softly. tears slid down wooyoung’s face, mixing with blood and grime. 

“i’m sorry… i couldn’t save them… couldn’t save you,” he says brokenly. 

you shake your head, thumbs brushing over his cheeks gently. wiping his tears away as you spoke, “you did everything you could. you were so brave, wooyoung. i’m so proud of you.” 

he let out a shaky breath, as static suddenly filled his vision. seeing images from a time he doesn’t remember. are these memories? no, they can’t be, yet… why do they involve him? involve you? 

unless…

“y/n…” he calls out softly, lips trembling into a faint smile as more tears run down his face. “i… i’m so sorry,” he wanted to reach up and touch you, but he knows you aren’t real. “i’ve… i’ve missed you.” 

you smiled down at him, leaning to press a featherlight kiss to his forehead, “i’ve missed you too, but it's time to rest now. you’ve done enough, woo.”

wooyoung’s tears continue to fall as he closed his eyes, your presence comforting, “i’ll see you soon,” he says before he body grew still, the tension melting away as peace finally claimed wooyoung.

the infinity castle seemed to hum with a strange, mournful silence. the three bodies lay motionless, their sacrifices imprinted onto the wood of the castle’s many, many platforms. somewhere in the ever-shifting corridors, a faint echo of laughter sounded, a grim reminder that their sacrifice and battle was just one of many that have happened. 

infinity castle – hongjoong

hongjoong’s chest heaved as he face hyunjin, the former hero cloaked in an eerie calm was the complete opposite of hongjoong. hyunjin stood a short distance away, blade gleaming even in the dim, shifting light of the infinity castle. 

“hyunjin… you were declared dead! what happened to you?” hongjoong asks, voice trembling with disbelief. 

hyung tilted his head, his face void of any emotion and his voice calm as he spoke, “i needed more. more power, more recognition. i was tired of being overshadowed by you and yunho.”

hongjoong’s brows furrow, anger bubbling under his shock. “so you threw everything away!? betrayed the association – the people who trusted you?”

hyunjin looked at hongjoong, expression remaining neutral. “the association doesn’t trust any of us. lady nicha showed me the truth, offered me power beyond anything i could achieve as a hero.”

the confession struck hongjoong like a physical blow, his heart clenching at the words. hyunjin… so easily becoming a demon, giving up his humanity… it went against everything hongjoong thought heroes stood for. only villains were able to become demons – not heroes! 

he looked at the demon with clenched fist, “you’re nothing but a coward. power without purpose is meaningless.” 

hyunjin’s grip on his sword tightened, “i think you’ll change your mind when you’re lying at my feet,” he says menacingly. 

hyunjin striked first, his blade slicing through the air with unnatural speed, propelled by gusts of razor-sharp wind. hongjoong just barely had any time to react, diving into the shadow – body disappearing in the darkness as hyunjin’s attack shattered the floor where hongjoong once stood. 

hongjoong re-emerged behind him, shadows born from the light of the castle lantern’s lashed out like whips, aiming to bind hyunjin in place. the demon however was faster, blade transforming in a scythe as he slashed through the shadows with ease. 

“so you can reshape your weapon now…” hongjoong said, voice grime. 

hyunjin smirked, twirling the scythe in a graceful turn before it retracted back into a sleek katana. “ impressive, isn’t it? becoming a demon has greatly enhanced my powers to lengths you wouldn’t believe.” 

the battle soon continued on, sound of clashing steel and shadows echoing through the castle’s endless corridors. hongjoong conjured a sword entirely forged from shadows, blade sleek and black which glinted against the orange glow of the castle. he charged, movements swift and deliberate, striking at hyunjin with calculated precision. 

hyunjin parried the strikes with ease, his blade cutting through hongjoong’s defenses like he was cutting paper. a particularly vicious slash caught hongjoong’s side, drawing blood that quickly soaked his uniform. hongjoong gritted his teeth, refusing to show weakness in front of hyunjin who seemed to thrive off of wanting to see him fall. 

the fight only grew more brutal, the hero and ex-hero exchanging blow after blow. at one point, hyunjin’s sword shifted into a massive broadsword, its force cleaving through hongjoong’s shadow blade with ease. the momentum carried through the giant sword cleaning slicing through hongjoong’s arm. 

a scream tore from hongjoong’s throat as he stumbled back, clutching the bloody stump continuing to drip with blood – where his arm had been. 

“still standing? impressive, but it’s time you stay down,” hyunjin says. the hero’s vision blurred from the pain, but he forced it away as he made himself stand upright. 

“i can’t… i won’t. i have people to protect – my team, my family,” he says through gritted teeth, “you wouldn’t understand.”

for the first time, hyunjin hesitated, a flicked of an emotion crossing his face. “family? that’s why you’re still fight?”

hongjoong nodded, breathed labored, “that’s why i’ll never stop.” 

hyunjin’s expression only hardened as he adjusted his grip on his sword, “just as i thought… so weak fighting for others. let us end this.” 

the two charged at each other, their weapons raised. shadows and wind collided in a flurry of darkness and light – a juxtaposition of good and evil competing with each other. the sheer force of their clashes sends shockwaves through the castle. 

hyunjin’s blade found its mark, piercing through hongjoong’s chest in a devastating blow. the hero’s shadow blade clattered to the ground, dissolving back in the shadows below them. hongjoong staggered, blood pouring from the fatal wound. hyunjin withdrew his blade, taking a step back. 

“it was an honor to fight you, hongjoong.” 

without another word, he disappeared into the depths of the infinity castle, his figure swallowed by the ever-shifting doors and shadows that surrounded them. 

hongjoong collapsed onto his back, weight of his injuries finally overwhelming him. he stared up at the shifting ceiling, hanok doors coming and going in ways he could comprehend in the moment. his chest rising and falling with deep, ragged breaths. 

a soft caw drew his attention. hongjoong turned his head slightly to see a crow perched beside him, its beady eyes fixed on his bloodied form. 

“so… are you my guide to the afterlife?” he asked it weakly, a faint smile painting his bloody mouth. 

the crow cawed again, tilting its head as if answering the hero. hongjoong chuckled weakly, a single tear sliding down his cheek. “i did my best… i hope the others are okay.” he says quietly to himself, as if trying to comfort him. the others are strong, they will make it out of the battles alive. he knows he can leave it in their hands. 

he turned back to the ceiling, his breathing beginning to slow. “do well… everyone.” his eyes fluttered closed, body going still, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. the crow cawed one last time before spreading its wings and disappearing into the endless corridors of the infinity castle, leaving hongjoong to rest. 

infinity castle – the inner chamber 

the dark corridors of the infinity castle twisted endlessly as a crow flew through them, its wings cutting through the deadly silence. it passed shattered platforms, blood-soaked remnants of battles, and the unnatural shadows clinging in every corner. at last, it finally reached the most secluded part of the castle – whether on purpose or accident that remains unknown. 

lady nicha’s chamber was vast a illuminated by the same lanterns that light the rest of the dimension. in the center, nicha sits in a chair – a surprisingly simple chair considering her powerful status – her legs crossed in a relaxed pose. a low chuckle escaped her lips as she watched the final moments of hongjoong’s battle with hyunjin. 

“so~ the heroes have all fallen… how delightful. with him gone, the hero association is crumbling. soon, the world will bow before me, its last hope finally extinguished.” she glanced to her left, where karina sat on a low cushion, plucking delicate, mournful notes on his bipa. “karina, summon the remaining upper ranks. a new era is about to happen.”

karina nodded, her fingers trailing over the strings of her instruments – plucking a certain note that immediately had to two upper moons arriving: hyunjin and beomgyu. the two appeared in the chamber, expressions neutral as the awaited nicha’s orders.

nicha couldn’t help the wicked smile that graced her lips, “you’ve done well to survive this far, my moons. with the last of the great heroes gone, nothing stands in our–

her words are cut off as an unsettling silence fills the room. nicha turned to look behind her, karina sitting motionless, her bipa laying untouched in her lap. 

“karina, why have you stopped playing?” nicha asks, a frown now settling upon her lips. 

instead of saying anything, karina slowly rose, turning towards nicha to reveal that it wasn’t the female demon sitting on the cushion. the figure looked that nicha with a calm, confident expression. no, instead dressed in a flowing hanbok identical to the demon’s was you, your presence commanding and cold.

for the first time nicha was caught off guard, shocked to see you standing before her and her upper moons, “you… how are you alive!? i killed you– i saw you die!” 

you took a step forward, expression unchanging. “did you kill me? or did you just believe what i wanted you to?” you asked her quietly, voice hiding a hidden edge to it. 

nicha’s eyes widened in realization, breaking slowly becoming uneven, “you… you bent reality… our memories.” 

“smart girl,” you say cooly, “it wasn’t hard really. you wanted so badly to believe you’d won that you didn’t notice the cracks in your own memory.” 

nicha stumbled back as you drew closer to her, clutching her chest in both realization and disbelief, “this is amazing! what is the true extent of your power? not even the hero association could comprehend it! you truly are––

before she could finish, you moved with blinding speed, hand plunging into nicha’s chest. blood sprayed along your face and clothes as you ripped the demon’s heart out. your expression remains unchanged yet deadly. nicha collapses to her knees, her hands trembling as she pressed them to the gaping wound in her chest. panic begins to settle in when she notices how she’s not regenerating like she’s supposed to. 

“w–what ha–have you done t–to me?” 

you studied the still-beating heart your hand, tilting your head slightly. “oh, nothing much. just taking back the power i gave you. you didn’t think someone like you would’ve been created by the hero association and allowed to live past an hour, did you?” you say casually, bending down to look at nicha in her eyes. 

her eyes widened, face pale. “c–created by the he–hero association?” 

“did you think anyone’s powers came naturally? that your powers came naturally? the association has always created its superhumans. none of us were ever ‘born special’ like how they advertised.” nicha gasped, blood pooling beneath her. “and you? you were just my little pupper, a figurehead to distract the world. a convenient excuse for the association to let me out of prison. i had thought – well, if they can create superhumans… why can’t i, so i did. amazing isn’t it.” 

the reality of your words hit nicha like a physical blow, and with one final shuddering breath, she collapses to the floor, lifeless. you looked down at her lifeless body, expression devoid of sympathy. more of disappoint – surely as the strongest demon she would have put up more of fight. guess not. you stood up and with a flick of your wrist, tossed the demon’s heart aside, blood splattering against the chamber floor. you turned to the remaining upper moons, beomgyu and hyunjin, who remained frozen in place at your display of power and knowledge. 

as the silence stretched, they eventually dropped to one knee, bowing their heads in submission. “...master,” hyunjin says, both unsure and sure of calling someone other than nicha that title. but… weren’t you lady nicha if you had created her? 

your lips curved into a faint smile as a crow fluttered into the room, landing next to the demon’s heart. the bird picked at it a few times before flying up and landing gracefully on your shoulder. you reached up to stroke its feathers, “i guess you done well too,” you say to the small creature.

the crow cawed softly, head tilting as if acknowledging your praise. you turned to face the vast, pulsating walls of the infinity castle, smiling coldly. “the hero association needs to be destroyed and now… nothing stands in my way.” 

you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from your chest, laughter that echoes through the chamber. the crown spread its wings and took off, disappearing back into the endless maze. the two upper moons rose, standing at attention behind you as you began to walk towards the castle’s exit. your hanbok trailing behind you like a shadow.

END.