#(and so i tried to be a bit more adventurous with the colouring)

[woso-dreamzzz]

Scottish Sam

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Magda wants you to wear her jersey

It's not very often that Magda gets to see you in her jerseys.

You wore Pernille's Wolfsburg and Denmark one easily. You'd had, on special occasions like the World Cup, worn Magda's Sweden jersey. You'd never willingly worn her Chelsea one.

You'd complained about everything when she used to force you into it. The size. The feel. But most of all, the colour.

Your aversion to Chelsea was something she had grown to live with but, now that you were at Bayern, Magda hoped you would wear her jerseys more often.

There was a strong sense of pride that she could never properly explain when she saw you in one of her shirts like she could imagine the woman you'd become in your own professional jerseys. There was something about it that just made her turn to mush which was why she was glad the Bayern jersey had red.

Red was your favourite colour. She blamed it for the reason that you were drawn to Arsenal in the first place but now she was sure that it was going to work in her favour.

Of course, that all came crashing down when she walked into the locker room to find you wearing a Bayern jersey that wasn't hers.

It wasn't Pernille's either - the only other person she could tolerate you wearing.

Instead, you were wearing Sam's.

You were standing in the woman's cubby too, arms crossed over your chest as you oversaw the other girls milling about waiting to go onto the pitch.

You look a bit scary like that but only a little because you're the same little girl who still slept with your stuffed toys and complained about eating fruit.

Sam's grinning as she looks around, showing anyone who would listen what you were wearing.

"Did you have to let her wear that?" Magda groans," I had a plan, Pernille!"

"It wouldn't have worked," Pernille laughs," She has opinions now. You can't trick her as easy as before."

"We'll see."

As Sam helps you get down, Magda pulls her jersey out of her bag and clears her throat.

You look over at her, wandering closer because Momma has your keeper gloves and Maria and Anna said that you can train with them and Cecilía today.

"What's that?" You ask.

"A Bayern jersey."

It's your size and you look at it suspiciously. You pull at the one you're already wearing. "Why?"

"Well, I thought you'd like to wear it."

"I'm wearing one now."

"But this one is special."

That catches your attention and you shuffle closer. "Why's it special?"

"Because," Morsa says with a flourish," It's mine."

Your interest waves and you move back to Momma. "Oh. That's boring."

Momma laughs and Morsa hisses at her," Pernille! It's not funny!" She turns back to you again. "It's not boring. We can match!"

You huff and stare at Momma. "Do I have to?"

She laughs and cups your cheeks. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to." She helps you slip on your keeper gloves and turns you around so she can fix your hair.

You're facing Morsa now, who is looking between you and the little you-sized shirt in her hand. You stare unblinking at her as Momma runs a brush through your hair and begins to braid it back.

Morsa sighs before tucking it back into her bag and waving a teasing finger in your face. "I'll get you in that soon, Princesse. Just you wait."

You stick your tongue out at here. "Nu-uh!"

Morsa sticks her tongue out too and Momma finishes your hair.

You go towards where the keepers are waiting before you freeze and turn back to Morsa, tugging on her shirt.

"Morsa," You say," You have to take a picture."

"How come?"

"I want to show Australian Sam my new shirt."

Magda bursts out laughing, her ego suddenly soothed by your desire.

You'd never once in your life worn Sam's jersey, Chelsea's Sam of course. You'd always refused, running away whenever she tried to ask you and screeching whenever she came near you with it.

It was always funny to watch and Sam had to try and convince you from a distance.

You never accepted though and Magda's ego suddenly feels fine again now she knows you want to show Sam that you're happily wearing Scottish Sam's jersey.

"Alright," Magda laughs, positioning you so you're looking over your shoulder with a smile as Sam's jersey in seen clearly. She snaps the picture.

"You have to send it to Australian Sam," You say," Okay?"

"Got it, Princesse. Go on off to training."

You grin and nod, running off towards the Bayern keepers, who lead you outside.

"You're not actually going to send it to her, are you?" Pernille asks and Magda's answering smile is all the explanation she needs. "Magda!"

"What?" Magda asks innocently," I'm just respecting Princesse's wishes. There's nothing wrong with that."

Pernille rolls her eyes but doesn't argue anymore and Magda takes this as her chance.

SAM 😈 wtf???? you can't let her do that Magda!!! where's the loyalty???? get that girl into my Chelsea jersey this instant!!!

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

[g1rld1ary]

unlucky ; luke castellan x reader

➻ synopsis: when clarisse mixes up her days, her physio appointment clashes with the exam she was supposed to drive you to. lucky for you, she's got a friend who owes her a favour

➻ word count: 2570

➻ content: swearing, anxious!reader, fluff

➻ not sure how i feel about this but it is written which is more than I can say about all my other wips so...

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You were going to ace your exam. There was no other option, you’d prepared for everything. Your flash cards were colour coded and worn thin from revision, your cheap printer had basically had a fit from how many practise questions you’d printed out, and your whiteboard was crammed with revision notes. There was no way you were going to do anything less than stellar, you’d planned out every last detail of the day.

“What do you mean your exam is today?” Clarisse asked you as you stood in front of her, fully dressed and bag all packed. You hadn’t planned on this.

“Clar, it’s Wednesday. My exam is on Wednesday. I need you to drive me or I won’t get there.”

“Oh, Gods. Dude, I totally mixed up the days, I can’t drive you, I’ve got that physio appointment I told you about, the one that has a five month waitlist. I’m so sorry,” Your roommate groaned and you bit your lip to stop yourself from crying. The Ubers around were hopeless, cancelling at the last minute and never actually picking you up — and it wasn’t you, your rating was perfectly high, for the record.

“Fuck,” You both cursed as you tried to figure out a solution. You wanted to be angry at Clarisse, but you knew you couldn’t. It was an honest mistake on her part, and she had to go to her appointment if she wanted to have any shot of getting back into the boat next semester and retain her rowing scholarship. Mostly you were mad at yourself that you didn’t have any backup plans, especially since you always had at least two. You were about to give up and start running across the city to try and make it in time when Clarisse’s eyes lit up, snapping her fingers excitedly.

“I’ve got it: I have a friend who I know for a fact won’t be doing anything right now and owes me a favour. I can get him to drive you?” You hesitated. On the one hand, Clarisse’s friend was probably the only way you were going to get to your exam punctually, but on the other, being in a car with some stranger would drastically heighten your anxiety and throw off all of your routines. With one more moment of thought you swallowed your nerves and nodded yes. Clarisse got on her phone, hurriedly dialling her friend. You watched in uneasy anticipation as she argued with the boy, referencing a myriad of situations you knew nothing about, clearly emphasising how much he owed her. You bit back a smile at that, Clarisse would always keep tabs on who owed her.

Finally she nodded at you and you couldn’t contain your grin. As much as the thought of navigating city traffic with a strange boy made your stomach churn — and not in the good way — your anxiety was completely outweighed by your desperation to get to your exam.

Waiting for him to arrive was a whole different story. Clarisse’s appointment was earlier than yours and so you had to wait on your own, frantically going over your notes again as you sat on the stoop of your apartment building, converse grinding into the concrete anxiously. To his credit, it wasn’t long before he pulled up, pulling into the parking space in front of you far too fast for your liking.

You observed the car skeptically. You didn’t want to judge when he was doing you such a big favour, but it was an integral part of you. The car was old and a bit worn down, but not so much in a ‘the owner’s a slob’ kind of way, more that you could tell it was well loved and had had its share of adventures. You could say the same for the boy inside it. He was beautiful, but you could tell he wasn’t really the type to think about his appearance too much. His shirt was clearly well loved, worn slightly thin from use, and he had a thin scar running down his cheek from his eye. You tried to smile sociably as you climbed in the passenger seat.

“Hi,” You said, introducing yourself quietly as you gripped your notes tightly.

“I’m Luke,” He replied, shooting you a quick smile.

The two of you sat awkwardly for a while, conversation at an uneasy halt. Luke had asked you a few polite questions, but your growing anxiety over the exam made it hard for you to think. At least until Luke had the bright idea of bringing up your roommate.

“So, how do you know Clarisse?” He asked, and you couldn’t help the smile that grew on your lips.

“She’s my best friend!” You grinned, “We were assigned to be roommates in freshman year and ended up getting along surprisingly well for, well, the type of people we are. When it was time to move out of the dorms and get an apartment together, it just seemed natural that we’d continue to live together. You must be part of her other friendship group, then?” Luke was glad you’d started to come out of your shell, the chatty version of you that Clarisse had inspired made the battle against traffic much more bearable.

“Yeah, we all met through the sports program. I was kind of a package deal with Chris, so when they got together she got the blessing of hanging out with me too,” He joked, “How come we’ve never met? I know Chris tells her to bring you all the time.” Your cheeks flushed at being caught out avoiding the group.

“I’m not really good at talking to people, I feel so awkward. Plus I need to study, I don’t have the fallback of sport that Clar does. The times that she’s hosted have been actual coincidences though! I was visiting family the last time you all came to the apartment — promise I’m not actively avoiding you all.” Luke smiled at your bashful expression, tapping along light-heartedly to whatever grunge rock he had playing.

You conversed more easily for a while, you wanted to learn more about him, and Luke was a good conversationalist. He talked about his course in a way which interested you like it never had before. You didn’t think it was possible for economics to sound so fun. Whilst it took your mind off the exam for a while, Luke returning the questions about your major made your anxiety return tenfold, foot beginning to tap incessantly.

“Hey, uh, do you mind if I go over some of my flashcards just before we get to campus?” Luke agreed of course, piping in with questions to make you expand on what you’d learnt. It was irritating, but only because you knew it was a brilliant way to revise.

You hadn’t expected Luke to be so helpful or so amiable. Although they’d been friends for a year or two, Clarisse rarely mentioned him. Usually the focus of her tales were Chris or Silena, Luke usually featured as the poor boy making a fool of himself through one stupid act or another. Maybe you really would start going out with them if all Clarisse’s friends were so nice.

The closer you got to your exam hall, the quicker you started speaking, words tumbling out so fast Luke could hardly understand them. You were whipping yourself up into a frenzy, and the boy next to you did not know what to do. None of his friends ever got this concerned about their academics, and he had little practice in comforting anxious girls.

When he pulled up to a parking space, you were borderline hyperventilating, shaking hands making the cue cards threaten to spill everywhere. Despite all this, you forced yourself to stop for a moment, making yourself connect your eyes with Luke’s.

“Thank you,” You said, voice surprisingly steady given the moments prior. Luke was admittedly slightly taken aback, but brushed it off much too casually. You weren’t so easily deterred.

“Seriously! You picked up a neurotic girl you don’t know with literally five minutes warning. You let me talk your ear off and basically saved my grade. You’ve got to at least let me, like, get you dinner sometime.” Luke looked like he was gonna argue with your praise but thought better of it, simply shrugging and revealing a smile that made your heart skip a beat. You hopped out of the car, pulling your arms around yourself tightly as you tried to mentally prepare yourself for the exam ahead. When you heard your name being called you turned back curiously, to be met with Luke sticking his head out of his passenger side window — how tall was this boy?

“Good luck!” He yelled, cheeky grin on his face. You gave an exaggerated huff, smile creeping onto your face despite your unease. You rolled your eyes, waving goodbye before rushing into the hall, running to catch up with one of the girls you knew from class. Luke smiled, laughing to himself as he pulled out of the park.

The exam was awful. Like, dogshit terrible. Hot flushes of embarrassment shot up from your toes, burning tears sitting in your lash line as you made inane complaints to some of your friends from your cohort, hoping desperately they couldn’t tell how devastated you were.

It all just felt like a waste. After all that revision, sleepless nights and study groups with people you didn’t even really like, the exam was still awful, and you were one more minor inconvenience from a full-blown meltdown. You said goodbye to your friends, and there came the inconvenience: with all the anticipation of getting to the exam, you’d forgotten to figure out how you were getting home.

God you wished you had your license. Or adequate public transport. Before you could talk yourself down from a frenzy you were crying, and sat yourself down on the steps outside the exam hall for a private moment.

The honking of a car made you look up, and the sight of Luke’s old Toyota had your tears turning to ones of relief. You sprung out of your seat, wiping your tears hurriedly as you practically skipped over to his car.

“What are you doing here?” You couldn’t help but laugh, embarrassed at your dramatics.

“Couldn’t let the academic weapon walk home across the city all alone could I?” You shook your head enthusiastically, smile erupting on your face as you hopped into the passenger seat.

You sat in somewhat awkward silence as Luke began the drive. Whilst you weren’t still actively crying, it was excessively obvious that you were distraught. Luke didn’t know what to do or how to comfort you, but he was never one to stop trying.

“You know what the best thing about Chris being pre-med is?” He said, and you looked up curiously at the random topic. You shrugged, using the mirror attached to the sun visor to wipe away some of your smudged mascara. “I now know for a fact that chocolate makes serotonin, and that makes you happy. So what d’you say we go get some ice cream?”

Luke took you to an adorable little ice cream parlour a few blocks from campus and bought you both cups of chocolate ice cream, calmly ignoring your protests. Sitting in a booth together it was remarkable how quickly your mood had shifted. Luke was shockingly charming, and seemingly knew exactly what to say to get you to open up, and before long you were chatting as if you’d been friends for years.

He told you dozens of stories of his and Clarisse’s friendship group, recounting all the wild nights and stupid adventures they’d had. You loved it, you’d heard most of them from your flatmate but an alternate perspective made you cackle all over again.

“How did you know when my exam finished? It was three hours long,” You said when there was a lull in conversation. Luke looked uncharacteristically bashful, suddenly avoiding eye contact with you and focusing intently on his ice cream.

“I’ve just been hanging on campus,” He confessed, “I took a lap at five past the hour to try and catch you.” You couldn’t help your grin.

“You are such a softie!” You squealed, shoving his shoulder lightly. He shook his head aggressively but you could have sworn that the Luke Castellan was blushing.

It wasn’t long before Luke was driving you home, the two of you scream singing to Kelly Clarkson (you’d taken over the aux, but Luke didn’t seem to mind that much). You felt a little betrayed that Clarisse had been friends with him for so long and yet you’d never crossed paths. You also wondered how you’d never noticed how hot the guy in all of her Instagram posts was, but that was neither here nor there.

As you pulled up in front of your apartment building you almost felt sad, but for a completely different reason than you were an hour before. All thoughts of your shit exam were gone, replaced by thoughts of Luke and the lightness in your chest he’d caused.

You sat in the car together, clearly hesitant to go. Finally, you knew you had to leave and reached for the door handle.

“Wait,” He said. You stopped. “Our group is going for dinner tomorrow night, uh, you should come. If you want.” Luke was looking anywhere but at you, and you felt your beam even if he couldn’t see it (he could, but for his sanity he was trying really hard to pretend he didn’t).

“Yeah,” You replied breathily, “Yeah, I’ll think about it.” You thanked him again for the lift and the ice cream before hopping up the steps into your apartment. Neither of you could control your giddy grins for an embarrassing amount of time.

When Clarisse got home that evening she was all apologies for her mix up, but when you of all people brushed off her disorganisation she figured something was up.

“So, how was Luke? Not too scary?” She asked as you both sat on the couch, Love Island rerun playing. You tried to answer noncommittally, eyes locked on the screen.

“He was nice,” You said, immediately forcing a laugh at whatever bullshit one of the boys in the villa had said. You could feel Clarisse eyeing you suspiciously, you would never be so vague — especially not when today was such a huge deal for you. Nevertheless she hummed in agreement, sparking a plan in her head.

“Hey, so the group are going to dinner tomorrow, you should come. It’ll be me, Chris, Silena, maybe a few others. Luke’ll be there too, I think.” She feigned innocence, counting them out on her fingers.

“Yeah, ok, I’ll be there,” You replied, trying to play it cool despite never having once agreed to go out with her friends. Clarisse’s raised eyebrow told you all you needed to know about your acting.

#giasfics˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ #love #fluff #luke castellan #pjo series #percy series #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson show #percy jackson tv show #pjo #luke castellan pjo #pjo tv show #pjo fandom #percy jackson #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fanfiction #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you

[the7thcrow]

Not all that Glitters is Gold -> 11

series pairing: (fem) princess!reader x seonghwa x san x wooyoung. eventual polyamory.

series masterlist | previous chapter

Part Eleven: a broken conscience, tenderness, and a final confrontation.

series rating: 16+

series genre: action and adventure. romance. angst. fluff. suggestive. fantasy au.

series warnings: character death, blood and violence, weaponry, injury, suggestive content, mxm content, elements of misogyny, language, monsters. (will only be using chapter specific warnings for things not included on this list.)

summary: as a princess fleeing a royal assassination attempt, you have no choice but to put your trust in a band of three thieves in order to reach the kingdom of kuroku alive. however, amongst magic, deceit, and the bounty hunters that are hot on your trail, you realize that you might have stumbled upon a relationship far more complicated than what meets the eye.

chapter details beneath the cut ->

wc: 16.2k

extra chapter warnings: themes of self-hatred, brief mention of suicide. heed the violence warning for this one.

chapter summary:

“I don’t know what happened at the lake,” Seonghwa starts, tentative and unsure. Clearly cautious to continue forward. “But do you think you guys will be able to work things out?”

“I don’t know,” San breathes, and it’s true. “I really don’t know, Hwa.”

Seonghwa nods, taking this in. He begins to chew on the corner of his cheek, nervous. “I need to tell you something.”

a/n: me apologizing for taking eons to write is getting a bit old, so imma stop LMAO. life is just busy but what’s new. anyway, to be frank i adore this chapter. it's a wild ride. i hope you all enjoy. mwah.

“Wooyoung!”

Wooyoung hears someone call out to him, but he isn’t sure from where. Their voice appears close, yet far off all at once. As if they are speaking from beside him, and at the same time miles away.

His senses feel muddled. Eye-sight a bit faded, it’s as if he’s looking through a window in the winter season. Fogged and clammy with precipitation, almost translucent. His hearing is muffled, his footsteps creating a dull-echo through him, as if they’re coming from within his mind rather than heard through his ears.

Wooyoung ignores this, instead choosing to follow the voice, although really, he’s walking aimlessly more than he is following. He can’t tell where the voice is coming from, and the darkness that surrounds him is disorientating. When he looks down, he can see his own eyes staring back at him, the ground polished and reflective. However, when he looks forward it all meshes into a thick blackness, like a mirror facing the night sky. 

“Wooyoung!”

He hears the voice again, and it sounds like it’s coming from behind him, but when he turns there is nobody there. Just more of the same darkness.

Wooyoung scowls. Something is wrong, although he can’t place what. An inkling of worry rests on his shoulders nagging at him to listen, but everytime he tries to grasp it, it slips between his fingers. Sliding like water over rock.

His frown deepens. Yes, something is very wrong. He should know what it is, and yet he doesn’t.

Wooyoung turns back around, walking back in the same direction from which he came, this time with more fervour, his cluelessness leaving him agitated. 

However, as he turns it is not only blackness ahead of him, but a boy.

He faces away from Wooyoung so that the elemental cannot see his face, although based on his narrow stature and height, he’s no older than his early teens. Wooyoung, struck by a sense of familiarity, heads towards him. 

Upon reaching him, Wooyoung reaches out to grab the boy's shoulder, turning him around to face him. However, just as the boy’s face is almost visible, he vanishes. Wooyoung blinks. Darkness sits before him, empty, his hand outstretched into the blackness.

“Wooyoung.”

He whirls around, finding himself face to face with the boy.

Wooyoung gasps.

The boy’s light eyes meet his, a rich grey colour that has always reminded him of a coming storm. His black hair has grown longer, shaggy as it curls around the boy’s ears. Although Wooyoung has grown quite a bit since he last saw him, the boy is still taller, even if only by an inch or so.

“Yeonjun,” he whispers, and then his arms are wrapped around him, pulling the boy close. Wooyoung presses one of his hands along Yeonjun's back, feeling his skin and the muscles along his shoulders, trying to make sure that he’s real as he remembers each of his skin’s crevices. Ensuring that he is not a trick of the mind, an illusion within the warped darkness. 

But he is real. Completely solid, his skin as warm and soft as so many years ago. Wooyoung places a hand onto the back of his head, cradling it as he pulls Yeonjun close. 

Yeonjun does not move to hug him back. He stands still, stiff. Arms planted at his sides.

“You’re dead,” Wooyoung whispers, because he doesn’t understand how this is possible. He tucks his chin over the boy’s shoulder, overwhelmed by the familiarity of it, even after all these years. There’s a rightness to it, like his shoulder was meant for Wooyoung’s chin to rest there.

Yeonjun doesn’t reply right away, and Wooyoung finally pulls away from him. Yeonjun’s deep grey eyes meet his, although there is a certain absence to them. Not of life, but compassion. His lips are pulled into a thin line, his jaw clenched tight. 

It’s not until now Wooyoung realizes that Yeonjun is not happy to see him. 

“You don’t have to remind me that I’m dead, Wooyoung,” Yeonjun says, and his voice is not how Wooyoung remembers it. Not in its actual sound, but in its tone. Wooyoung remembers Yeonjun’s voice within night’s spent up in the watchtower, huddled close together. He remembers it in whispers around the lunch table, jovial and bright amidst the darkness. 

He does not remember Yeonjun’s voice being so cold, nor so pointed. So hateful. 

“It’s not the kind of thing I would forget,” Yeonjun spits, releasing himself from Wooyoung’s grip. Wooyoung flinches, caught off guard by this ferocity of his words. 

“I didn’t mean-” Wooyoung starts, reaching out to place a comforting hand atop the boy’s shoulder. Yeonjun slaps it away. Hard. 

“Don’t touch me,” Yeonjun scowls. He takes a step forward, and Wooyoung finds himself stepping back. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me!”

“I-I’m sorry,”  Wooyoung says, and his voice is small as he takes another step back, pulling his hand away completely. 

“Don’t tell me that you’re sorry,” Yeonjun says, and then Wooyoung is flying backwards. Blown by a sharp gust of wind, he hits his back against the ground. It sends a sharp spark of pain along his spine, and he winces as he continues to roll, using his elbows to protect his face as he tumbles backwards. 

When he finally comes to a stop, he looks up, watching as Yeonjun storms towards him. “You think that you being sorry is going to change anything? That it’s going to fix what you did?”

“No,” Wooyoung whispers, because it’s true. He has hated himself for what he did to Yeonjun. Dragging him into his plan to escape, the plan that ultimately got the boy killed. However, even with all of his guilt, regret, and self-hatred, he never once thought that he’d have to face Yeonjun again. That he would have to own up to his failure. His unforgivable mistake.

He deserves this.

“You’re right, I am dead,” Yeonjun says, no longer shouting, but the ice within his voice is just as powerful. “I’m dead and it’s because of you.”

A ball of fire ignites in Yeonjun’s hand that the younger boy pulls it back, before letting it fly towards Wooyoung. The fire hurtles towards him, its orange and yellow flames twisting and turning, growing in size with each passing second.

Wooyoung would never hurt Yeonjun. Not intentionally, not with his own hand or flame. So instead of firing back with his own, Wooyoung redirects the flame away from him, sending it sideways.

Except that he doesn’t, because the redirection doesn’t work. 

Yeonjun’s aim lands true as the flames engulf him.

Wooyoung thinks that he is screaming, but he can’t tell, his ears having gone deaf amongst the pain that radiates throughout his entire body. The burning sensation starts at his skin, thousands of little needles stabbing him everywhere from his face down to his feet. He can’t think beyond the burning, the heat intolerable as it consumes him. He begins to roll around on the ground, wailing in agony as he desperately tries to put the fire out. 

When the flames subside, Wooyoung can’t rise to his feet. He drags his hand along the ground, weak and shaking as he pulls it to his side, and he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the mirrored floor beneath him.

His skin bubbles and blisters, it’s once deep bronze having shifted to an angry and repulsive bright red. His hand twitches, shaking as he attempts to move it. He lets out a low whine of pain, tears glistening in his eyes.

He hears Yeonjun’s footsteps approach him. When the boy crouches down in front of Wooyoung, his eyes are full of malice. He does not smile, even as Wooyoung looks up at him through bleary eyes, weak and pathetic.

Yeonjun’s hand fills with fire, and instead of throwing it at him, he simply places it onto Wooyoung’s arm. Wooyoung watches in horror as his skin catches light, the needles returning as sharp pain cascades over his flesh. He lets out a broken cry, trying to move his other hand to put it out, but he’s too weak. His other hand merely shakes, awkwardly patting at the fire in a way that does nothing to put it out, but rather makes his other hand hurt even more.

“Use your gift, Wooyoung,” Yeonjun chides, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Or maybe you really are as useless as he claims.”

“He” meaning Warden. The only man Wooyoung has ever been genuinely afraid of. The only man who convinced Wooyoung that he was nothing. Has always been nothing. 

Is nothing, even now.

Yeonjun leans in closer, and when he speaks, his voice is a low whisper. “You deserve all that’s coming to you, Wooyoung. Remember that.”

The fire spreads up his arm and onto his shoulder, and Wooyoung closes his eyes, losing himself in the pain. It continues through him, the fire eating away at his flesh and burning its way into his mind. He can smell the smoke around him, and it's reminiscent of his skin. Rotten and vile, he breathes it again, mouth agape as he wails in agony. 

The fire consumes him until there is nothing left. His body gone, mind lost to the flames.

“Woo, get off of the floor,” a voice says from above him. 

Wooyoung blinks. His cheek is cool against the ground beneath him, as is the rest of his body that is sprawled out above it. He glances forward at his hand that sits out in front of him.

It looks normal, the burns completely vanished.

He narrows his eyes, glancing at his reflection in the mirror below him. All he sees is himself staring back, disbelieving. Wooyoung’s skin has returned to its normal, deep bronze rather than bright red, the blisters having disappeared entirely. His reflection blinks back at him. It’s as if nothing happened.

“Did you hit your head or something?” The voice says again, and Wooyoung glances up. Seonghwa stands above him,  looking down with a puzzled look on his face. 

Wooyoung frowns, a burst of both excitement and shame igniting within him, although he doesn’t know where it comes from. Did something happen between him and Seonghwa lately? He can’t seem to remember. 

“No, sorry,” Wooyoung replies, and Seonghwa extends a hand out. Wooyoung takes it, letting the blonde lift him back up to his feet. 

Wooyoung glances down at himself, at his once burnt clothing now perfectly in-tact. His frown deepens. “Do you know-” He begins, but whatever he was going to say dies on his lips, as when he glances up Seonghwa’s eyes are already staring into his own. 

Seonghwa is close, a little too close. His hand continues to hold Wooyoung’s, resting against Seonghwa’s own chest. His face is closer than Wooyoung thinks it’s ever been, mere inches apart, and Wooyoung can feel the heat that rises to his cheeks.

“I… I, um,” Wooyoung says stupidly.

“Hm?” Seonghwa hums, and a small smile grazes his lips. It’s coy, almost knowing, and if Wooyoung could feel the heat in his cheeks before then they’re practically burning now. “Were you saying something?”

Wooyoung swallows hard, and when he speaks again his voice is a whisper. “No.”

Seonghwa’s smile grows a little wider. “Good.”

Then Seonghwa kisses him.

It’s familiar in a way he can’t understand, almost as if he’s been here before, but also nowhere close. Seonghwa’s lips are soft, tender as they meet Wooyoung’s own. The empath’s hand is gentle as it reaches up to rest on the back of Wooyoung’s neck, whose mind melts. 

Seonghwa clearly feels the elemental stiffen in surprise, smiling against Wooyoung’s lips. He lets out a breathy chuckle that is oh-so-familiar, and Wooyoung lets the sound flow through his ears and fill the rest of him. His mind, his heart, his body. He lets himself become wrapped in the comfortability that is one of his closest friends, his mind’s long-harboured desire.

Seonghwa’s hand drifts from the back of the elemental’s neck to the front, fingers dancing along his Adam’s apple, which bobs as Wooyoung swallows in anticipation.

Then Seonghwa begins to squeeze.

His grip is not gentle, nor is it suggestive. Instead it is tight, increasingly uncomfortable, and Wooyoung tries to pull his lips away. “Hwa,” he murmurs, although it’s difficult to get out through the way Seonghwa’s hand squeezes around his airway. “Hwa, you’re hurting me.”

“Am I?” Seonghwa speaks against his lips, his tone shifting from fond to something that resembles seductive, but not quite. Mischievous, or even dangerous. “Awe.”

Seonghwa's grip shifts from uncomfortable to painful as he deepens the kiss, nails digging into Wooyoung’s skin as he presses harder on his airway. Wooyoung tried to pull away, to protest, but Seonghwa forcefully keeps his lips on Wooyoung’s own. 

Wooyoung places his hands on Seonghwa’s wrist, trying to pull his grip away. However, it’s as if Seonghwa has gained impenetrable strength, as his arm will not budge no matter how hard Wooyoung tries. Seonghwa finally pulls his lips away, looking down at Wooyoung, eyes full of a mocking pity.

“What’s wrong, Woo? Isn’t this what you’ve been imagining?” Seonghwa asks, and while Wooyoung opens his mouth to deny him, his squeezed airway prevents him from speaking. Seonghwa grins, squeezing tighter as he moves his face closer, his breath hot on Wooyoung’s skin. “Isn’t this what you’ve been dreaming about in that sick head of yours?”

Wooyoung tries to cry out but all that comes out is a choked, pathetic sound that makes Seonghwa snicker. Blackness creeping into the corners of his vision, Wooyoung’s head begins to become foggy, everything fuzzy but the pain and image of Seonghwa before him.

He can feel his eyelids drooping, his effort to pull Seonghwa’s hand away diminishing with each passing second. Seonghwa notices it too, as he coos in disapproval. 

“You really thought I could love you, didn’t you?” Seonghwa says softly, grip tightening to keep Wooyoung awake. Tears begin to fill the elemental’s eyes as his chest aches, desperate for air. For release, one way or another. “That if anyone were able to love something as fucked up as you, maybe it would be me.”

Seonghwa leans in, and Wooyoung feels his eyes roll into the back of his head, nothingness beginning to replace the space his thoughts once resided.

“I could never love you, Woo. Nobody could. It’s time that you stop pretending otherwise.”

Wooyoung awakens to his cheek pressed against the cold mirrored floor. Again. 

Taking a deep, gasping breath, he feels his lungs fill with air. Hand drifting to his neck, he searches for the pain of bruising, only to find that there is nothing there. His neck feels fine, his breathing having returned to normal, and he curses beneath his breath.

“What the fuck is happening to me?” He thinks, staring up at the never-ending darkness above him. He searches his mind for the memory of where he is, how he got to this strange place, but can’t seem to find anything. The answer sits on the tip of his tongue, but he cannot speak it, the words just out of his reach.

Anxiety pulses within his head, hands shaky as he pulls them down to his side. He feels as if he’s going crazy. Maybe he is. Maybe he already has. 

Wooyoung rolls over, prepared to rise to his feet, only to be stopped by the sight of a man lying next to him. He faces away from Wooyoung, but from the outline of the muscles of his back that poke through his shirt and the strap of the eye-patch that wraps around the back of his head, Wooyoung knows that it’s San.

Wooyoung lets out a sigh of relief, comforted by the fact that San is with him. San always knows what’s going on, what to do when nothing seems to make sense. San will be able to put together what Wooyoung cannot.

He extends out a hand, letting it fall onto San’s shoulder, giving the swordsman a gentle shake. San’s skin is cool to his touch, smooth, and Wooyoung smiles at the comfortable familiarity of it.

“San,” he says, giving the swordsman a gentle shake. When San does not reply, Wooyoung shakes him a little harder. “San.”

When San still does not move, Wooyoung assumes that he is sleeping. It’s not surprising, as even for a man so keen and alert at all waking hours, he sleeps like the dead. Sitting up on his elbow, Wooyoung tugs on San’s shoulder, rolling him over.

Except that when Wooyoung’s gaze meets man’s face, San’s eye is not closed in peaceful slumber. It is wide-open, glazed, and worst of all, vacant.

Wooyoung knows that he is dead.

Time appears to stop for a moment, although it feels more like an eternity. Wooyoung stares down into San’s blank stare, the coolness of his skin suddenly making far too much sense. 

San is dead. 

San is dead.

“No,” Wooyoung murmurs, hand drifting from San’s shoulder to his chest, feeling for a heart-beat and finding nothing. Wooyoung pulls himself up onto his knees, leaning down to press his ear to San’s parted lips, listening for a breath. There is none to be found.

“No,” Wooyoung whispers, turning his head to press a kiss to the swordsman’s lips, one that goes unreciprocated. “No, no, no,” he protests, hands shaking as he grabs San’s jaw, pulling his mouth to his own.

San’s lips are cold, unmoving, and when Wooyoung pulls away from him his eyes are stained with tears. His throat swells, chest aching, and he lets out an open sob. It echoes throughout the empty darkness around them, over and over again, like a lament of agony.

“This is your fault.”

Wooyoung’s gaze shoots up. In front of him sits a young girl, no older than thirteen, her long black hair tangled and pale face stained with tears. 

“Winter,” Wooyoung whispers.

“You couldn’t just let him leave,” she says, voice shaking as her hands clutch onto San’s tunic. They tremble around the light fabric, in desperation, in anger, in devastation. “He knew what you would do to him, but you couldn’t let him go, could you?”

“I…” Wooyoung starts, tongue feeling too big for his mouth, mind fuzzy. “I did this?”

He looks down at his hands. They’re coated in blood, as is San’s shirt. He doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it before.

“He loved you,” Winter says, eyes finally looking up to meet Wooyoung’s. The redness of her crying face and the gloss of her tears bring out the blue in them. “We both did. And this is what we get for it?”

“I’m sorry,” Wooyoung says, his voice barely above a whisper. Winter says nothing, her sobs merely grow louder, and Wooyoung looks down at San. The man he ruined. The man he destroyed. “I’m so sorry.”

When San makes no reply, as he no longer can, Wooyoung’s tears transform into loud, broken sobs. His own hand grabs onto San’s bloodied tunic, needing to hold a part of him but not daring to let himself touch the man’s skin. Tarnish him any more than he already has.

“I hate you,” Winter whispers, and it takes Wooyoung a minute to realize that although he’s heard her say those words before, it isn’t Winter speaking.

Wooyoung looks up to meet your gaze.

Your jaw is tightly clenched, your lip quivering. Although, what affects him the most is your eyes and the deep emotion they hold. A fiery blaze of distaste, of fury, wrath, and pure and unadulterated hatred.

“I hate you,” you say again, face contorting inward on itself as you look at him. “For everything you’ve done to me. For everything you’ve done to them. For everything you are.”

“I know,” he answers, and when he speaks his voice is barely above a whisper, as he lets out an admission. “I do too.”

He doesn’t notice the knife in your hand until it is buried in his chest.

Wooyoung stares down at the knife protruding out from him, your hand wrapped around its delicately engraved handle. It’s the one they gave to you, the one he took from you that first night.

He doesn’t fight it, doesn’t attempt to pull it out or shove you away. He deserves it.

Blood pools around the wound in his chest, leaking down. He opens his mouth to speak, but instead coughs, blood splattering from his mouth onto your face. You don’t seem to care.

You lean forward over San’s body, pressing your lips against his ear. However, when you speak, your voice is not your own. It’s deeper, more masculine. Familiar, although from where Wooyoung cannot place.

“Tell me where she is, Wooyoung. Tell me where she is and I’ll make it stop.”

“The refuge,” the answer comes immediately to his mind, dancing on his tongue, although he doesn’t know where it comes from or what it means. “She’s with the refugees. Sharing a tent with a young red-haired girl. It’s just three turns from the entrance.”

But he doesn’t say these words, even as the pain within his chest deepens, even as he wants everything to disappear. Even as he craves for the darkness to consume him, to rid him of this terrible mess. The horrors of everything he’s done. 

He doesn’t say these words because something in his mind screams that he can’t, something deep within him that pounds at the walls of his subconscious, that something is deeply, horrifically wrong. 

“Fine,” you say in that same voice that is not your own, leaning back from his ear to face him, the anger in your eyes having faded to a cold disinterest. “Have it your way.”

You twist the knife deeper and Wooyoung dies, this time in even more agony than the last.

This sword is nicer than San’s old one.

His old sword had been gifted to him from Gloria's blacksmith when he was thirteen. A kind old-man who knew the trouble that had entangled San, and wished to give the young boy a chance in a life where his fortune had run dry.

The sword was nothing special, hilt not quite heavy enough and wrapped in a cheap leather that had become worn over the years. It was not as flexible as to be expected of a good sword, and even with the trips he’d taken to sharpen the blade, the metal was becoming dull and had lost much of its durability. San was also thirteen upon receiving it, so of course, the blade was not long. Even for a short-sword, it had become too small with San’s growing height.

This sword doesn’t have those problems, with its thick hilt coated in fine leather. It clearly holds a stronger durability than the last, almost nimble with its flexibility. It’s even a little longer, allowing him to reach an opponent from a few inches further back, granting him better protection. 

The new sword is objectively better than his last in just about every way possible.

San hates it.

He hates the way the new sword glides through the air effortlessly, how the sharpness of the blade cuts deep against the wooden pole he strikes with a terrifying ease. He hates how it fits his hand so well, how the length suits him perfectly. It was made for him, fashioned for his grip..

There is no life to this sword. Not yet. It wasn’t given to him in a time of desperate need like his last, something to hold onto when everything else was falling apart. He has this sword because he simply needed a new one.

San misses his old sword. It’s heavy hilt and the roughness of the cheap leather against his palm. He misses how it wasn’t long enough, how he’d have to dance closer to danger within every battle. He misses the wrongness of it, and how right that wrongness felt. He misses the imperfection. The faults. The years spent getting used to those faults, of learning to navigate them. 

San wants his sword back.

San also knows that he isn’t thinking about weapons anymore.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, San takes a breath before attacking the pole before him once more. In a flurry of motion, he hacks at the pole’s cheap wood, landing blow after blow. There is no grace, no tactical finesse, just violence. The excuse of training having faded a long time ago, San simply seeks to cause damage.

Then he growls, a low noise of annoyance in the back of his throat, before throwing the sword to the ground. It clatters against a couple rocks, before settling itself in the grass, almost invisible within the night's shadow. Good, he doesn’t want to look at it anymore.

San leans against the pole, feeling the many indents he’s created against the bare skin of his back. His tunic sits discarded on the ground next to him, having been soaked through with sweat. He’s been at this for hours.

“Are you okay?” A voice asks from over his shoulder. San turns to see Seonghwa standing by their tent, a sad expression on his face. He asks more out of courtesy than anything else. San knows that the answer is obvious.

“No,” San says softly, and the honesty surprises him, but after a moment it doesn’t. San is tired of hiding how he feels about things. Of pretending things are fine when they so obviously aren’t. If he still had the energy for it after the last couple weeks — although more like years, really — then it left alongside Woo.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Seonghwa asks.

“Not really,” San answers honestly. He’s been thinking about it for hours, the last thing he wants is to continue doing so. 

“Alright, we don’t have to, ” Seonghwa says gently. San peers back over at him. Seonghwa’s arms sit folded over his chest, eyes big and full of concern. His hair is tousled, patches of blonde sticking out in opposite directions, as if he were trying to sleep but couldn’t. He likely has been. San wonders how late it is, how long he’s been out here for. 

“Do you want to just come inside then?” Seonghwa offers instead, tilting his head towards the tent entrance. San considers this for a moment before deciding he would rather be anywhere other than beside this pole, and nods in affirmation.

Following Seonghwa inside the tent, San takes note of Seonghwa’s crumpled sheets, evidence of San’s assumption that the man has spent the last few hours tossing and turning rather than in rest. 

“Do you want some tea?” Seonghwa asks. 

“I’m alright.”

“Good. Whiskey then?”

San can’t help the chuckle he lets out at that. “Please.”

Seonghwa reaches into the basket Yeji had gifted them, filled to the brim with different delectables. San knew that it was nice of her to do, a kind gesture, but the cynical part of him saw the silliness of it. Here, your friend just got kidnapped for ransom, but maybe these scones will make you feel better about it.

However, maybe she also saw the futility of it, having added a rather hefty bottle of whiskey to the mix of sweets.

Seonghwa pours the whiskey into two ceramic cups before handing one over to San, who sits down on his own bed of blankets across from Seonghwa’s own. Woo’s remains between them, untouched. 

Seonghwa extends his cup forward to meet San’s own in a form of cheers, although to what exactly San doesn’t think Seonghwa knows the answer either. They both take a sip, and the liquid burns slightly as it trickles down San’s throat. He makes sure to drink a bit more than he normally would.

Swallowing his own whiskey before San does, Seonghwa looks down at Woo’s bed between them, gaze contemplative.

“Have you ever told me how you and Woo met?” Seonghwa asks.

San quirks a brow at this, a bit amused but at the same time confused. “Many times, Hwa.”

Seonghwa nods at this, cheeks dusted with a faint shade of pink, as if he’s well aware of this fact and embarrassed to have been caught.

However, when the empath says nothing, San sighs. He knows that Seonghwa simply wants to talk about Woo, even if not about the situation at hand. The dire, horrible situation that plagues both of their minds with worry. The situation that San cannot bare to talk about, so lest he tear up this tent with his sword before heading up the mountain to kill the entire Dark Army himself

But how they met… he supposes he can talk about that. If it will bring Seonghwa some peace of mind, of course.

“We were both fourteen,” San begins, watching as an appreciative smile spreads over Seonghwa’s lips. “I’d been working a job for Jay, spying on an investor he suspected of embezzling The Cradle’s Funds. But I was still new to working for him, and hadn’t quite found my knack for stealth yet.”

Seonghwa closes his eyes as San speaks, as if what he’s saying is some sort of lullaby, a piece of comfort.

“He caught me hiding in the shrub garden of his courtyard and dragged me out by my hair onto the city street. He started screaming at me, before pulling out a knife from his back pocket," San says, and he can still remember that moment as clear as day. The terror that consumed him, that kept him frozen in place as the man advanced towards him.

San does not tell Seonghwa this, but what he remembers most is how in that moment he thought about how nobody would care if the man killed him. His father had left him, his mother and sister were both dead, and his expendability in Jay’s eyes was made blatantly clear by the fact that he sent San to deal with this man in the first place.

If the man killed San right then and there, nobody would have batted an eye. He would just become another one of the many nameless, faceless victims of Gloria’s streets.

“The man came towards me, and I remember closing my eye as he lifted the blade in the air. I didn’t want to see it enter me, I knew I couldn’t handle that.”

“But then Woo showed up,” Seonghwa says softly.

“Yeah,” San breathes, unable to help the smile that curves across his lips. “But then Woo showed up.”

San takes a deep breath, before letting his own eye close, reliving it. “Across the darkness I saw a bright flash of light, and could feel a sudden rush of heat across my face. I opened my eye in a panic. I thought that maybe I’d died, that he stabbed and killed me instantaneously, that the light had meant I’d ascended or that the heat was the fires of Hell.”

“But when I opened my eyes I saw the man standing before me, except that now his arm that was holding the knife was completely engulfed in flame. The look on his face when he saw it was priceless, completely in shock as he ran back into his house screaming for help, the poor boy in front of him that he was about to murder completely forgotten.”

“Then Woo walked up to me, standing up with his arms crossed. The light of the sun shone out behind him, and I remember at the time thinking he must have been the god of fire himself. Or maybe an angel that came to save me. It’s ridiculous knowing him now, but at the time I really believed it.”

“What was the first thing Woo said to you again?” Seonghwa asks, and San chuckles.

“He asked me ‘Were you really just going to sit there and let him kill you?’ I shakily replied yes, and then he said ‘That’s kind of pathetic, don’t you think?’”

Seonghwa laughs at this, shaking his head to himself. San gets it. Even now, so many years later, it’s a very Woo sort of thing to say.

“I thought about it, and then agreed that yeah, it was pretty pathetic. He laughed, and then somehow I found myself laughing too. He helped me up, and then that was it.”

“That was it?” Seonghwa asks, inquiring what he means by that.

“That was it. He never left my side after that. I joined him in his camp outside of the town. He helped me train with my sword even if his own knowledge on the subject was next to none. He never wanted to see me so helpless again. He joined me on countless missions that Jay sent me on, even the nasty ones, the ones that still keep me up some nights.”

San takes in a deep breath. “He was just… there. When I had no-one, he was there. I don’t know what I would have done without him.”

San looks down at Woo’s sleeping mat between them. Pristine. Untouched. A testament to his absence.

Things between him and Woo have been horrible lately. It’s been years of build up, of the little issues growing larger, of San’s discontentment boiling beneath the surface. He knows that things with Woo will never change. He knows the elemental will never give San all of himself. 

But it’s in these little moments, when he thinks about their past and everything that has happened between them, that he wants nothing more than to have Woo with him. In any form. In a blistering argument, in the cold quiet following, in his bed even when he knows the elemental will be gone come morning.

He simply needs Woo there. Even when it’s wrong, even when he knows it’s an awful, gut-wrenching codependence at times. He needs him. 

And with Woo gone, taken from him, it’s now that he knows this more than ever.

But then he remembers the jealous spats over the last few weeks. The many morning’s waking up alone. The way that Woo jumped after him over that cliff…

“I don’t know what happened at the lake,” Seonghwa starts, tentative and unsure. Clearly cautious to continue forward. “But do you think you guys will be able to work things out?”

“I don’t know,” San breathes, and it’s true. “I really don’t know, Hwa.”

Seonghwa nods, taking this in. He begins to chew on the corner of his cheek, nervous. “I need to tell you something.”

“Go ahead,” San says, taking a sip of his drink as Seonghwa takes a deep breath.

“Woo kissed me.”

San chokes on his whiskey.

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa says as San sputters and uses a fist to pound at his chest, forcing himself to cough. “I should have waited until you swallowed first, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” San says through coughs, and while he tries to keep the blatant shock out of his tone, he fails miserably. “Woo kissed you?”

“Yeah,” Seonghwa answers, voice breathy and small.

“When?” San asks, bewildered.

“Before they captured him.”

“Before they captured him,” San repeats, more to himself than Seonghwa. He runs the idea of it through his head, although it doesn’t make much more sense to him. 

Woo kissed Seonghwa. He actually did it. Recently. Just the night before.

“Are you mad?” Seonghwa asks.

“No,” San says absently, before really registering the question. He looks over at Seonghwa, who looks at him, knees drawn up to his chest. His fingers tap against the cup in his hands as he chews on the corner of his cheek, both nervous habits of his.

San realizes that Seonghwa is genuinely scared that he’ll be upset with him, and even amidst the shock, San’s heart softens.

“No. I’m not mad, Hwa,” he says gently, running a hand through his hair to pull it out of his face as he takes another small sip of his drink. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around this.”

San knew Woo had feelings for Seonghwa, he has for years. He could tell by the way Woo looked at the empath in absent moments, when he thought nobody was looking. That undeniable fondness in his gaze that told San everything he needed to know. He noticed as Woo stiffened at Seonghwa’s touch, the way his breath would catch in his throat, just as San’s own did. 

Yes, San knew that Woo had feelings for Seonghwa. San just didn’t know that Woo knew that Woo had feelings for Seonghwa.

“I know, it was a lot for me to take in too,” Seonghwa says, before letting out a small laugh that doesn’t hold much humour. “Still is.”

“How did it happen?” San asks.

“We were arguing…about her, amongst other things,” Seonghwa says with a shrug. “And it quickly escalated to fighting. I asked— well, I yelled at him asking why he cared so much about what I do, and then he grabbed me and kissed me.”

It makes sense. If there is any scenario San could imagine Woo confronting his feelings, it’s in a fit of rage. 

“After he kissed you, then what did he do?” San asks.

Seonghwa sighs, and when he speaks his tone is bashful, cheeks flushed as if he’s embarrassed to say it aloud. “He ran away.”

“For fuck’s sake, Woo,” San thinks, giving him a mental slap that he hopes the elemental can feel from miles away. 

But San isn’t going to complain about Woo right now, because that’s not why Seonghwa brought this up, it’s not what the empath really needs. He just needs someone to listen.

“Do you know how you feel about it?” San asks, tone gentle.

“No,” Seonghwa says quietly. San catches a glimpse of annoyance in his eyes, as Seonghwa’s expression shifts from bashful to frustrated, lips drawing themselves into a tight line.

“No, I don’t. How am I supposed to know how I felt about it? If I liked it?” Seonghwa says, standing up from his sleeping mat and beginning to pace around the tent. However, given its small size he doesn’t have much room to actually pace, instead walking a mere few steps forward and back.

“There was no tenderness to it. It was nothing like a real kiss should be. He just grabbed my face and shoved it into his and then said ‘Sorry Seonghwa, you’re going to have to figure that one out on your own, I'm off to get kidnapped!’” Seonghwa says the last part in a high pitched sing-song sort of way, one that doesn’t really sound like Woo, but at the same time a lot like him in spirit.

Seonghwa sighs, taking a sip of his drink before pinching the bridge of his nose, as if he has a headache. When he speaks again, his voice becomes quiet. “That's not fair. I know it’s not fair. But neither is what he did.”

San looks up at the empath, contemplative. “Any ideas as to what it means to you yet?” 

“No,” Seonghwa answers immediately, before appearing to think better of it. “That's a lie. So many. Too many. I don't know, it’s just…”

He trails off, giving San a nervous glance that tells the swordsman that Seonghwa is worried of making him uncomfortable. San gives him a gentle smile, a signal to keep going despite it.

Seonghwa takes a deep breath. “It’s always been you and him. Always, from the moment I met you both. There was never another option, so I never considered another option. It would have been unfair. To you, to him, to myself… So I don't know. I honestly don’t know if I think of him that way. I don’t know if I think of guys that way. But now he’s gone and that’s like, the least of our problems to be worried about right now, but I just…”

“I know. I get it,” San says, because he does. He’s been there. San hadn’t loved a man until he met Woo, and falling for the elemental certainly wasn’t easy. Figuring out Woo had always been like deciphering a puzzle, or even navigating a ship out on a foggy day at sea. Disorientating, frustrating, and requiring a strong will and patient temper. 

Seonghwa sighs. “I don't know what to do.”

San see’s Seonghwa standing there, dejected and confused and what he’d dare to call a little heartsick, and the words come out of his mouth before he even registers that he’s thought of them.

“You could kiss me.”

Seonghwa’s gaze shoots back at him, and when he speaks his tone is hesitant, maybe even a little pointed as his lips hover above the rim of his glass. “That's not funny.”

San looks up at him, expecting to feel caught, or to begin back-tracking. Play it off as a joke and cover up his feelings as he’s so often done in the past, let them exist to him and nobody else.

Instead he says:  “I wasn't joking.”

And he isn’t.

He isn’t because San realizes that Seonghwa is not repulsed by the idea of Woo kissing him, or of even Woo loving him. He’s upset that Woo didn’t do it more cautiously, that he didn’t let Seonghwa give any input on his own thoughts or feelings. He’s upset that Woo did all of this in a moment of anger and aggression, without asking, and without apparent thought or care.

Seonghwa is not upset that Woo confessed to loving him, he’s upset that he didn’t do so tenderly.

“San,” Seonghwa says, and his tone is difficult to read. He says it like a warning, telling San to think about what he’s saying, what he’s really offering here. But San is thinking about, a small part of him always has been.

“I’m serious, Hwa. Think about it,” San starts, and he tries to keep his demeanour nonchalant, even as his heart begins to rapidly pick up pace in his chest. “You said you aren’t sure if you’re into guys. Well, I’m a guy. I’m not horrible to look at. You’re comfortable around me. It might help you sort some things out.”

“But…” Seonghwa trails off, and his complexion has gone a bit pale, clearly taken aback by the proposition. “But it’s you. It’s us.”

“Look, if you don’t feel anything or don’t like it I’m not going to take it personally,” San says, and maybe that’s not completely true, but what he says next is. “I’m not going to let it ruin our friendship. I promise.”

Seonghwa stares at him for a moment, large brown eyes scanning the swordsman’s face, as if searching for something. Eventually he speaks, and his voice is barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

“Really?” San asks despite himself, unable to contain his surprise.

“Yeah, whatever, okay,” Seonghwa says, his voice breathy, small, and all-around nervous. He walks over to sit down in front of San, this time on Woo’s unused sleeping mat rather than his own. Seonghwa does so with such a quickness that San is pretty sure the empath is trying to commit to this before he can talk himself out of it. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Seonghwa asks, gaze meeting San’s own. When he speaks his tone is embarrassed, maybe even a little self-conscious. “I mean, it’s me.”

Seonghwa says “me” as if that’s something that would deter him. As if there’s no possible way that San would want to kiss him, of all people. As if that were something San should be repulsed by.

San decides that with this kiss, he’ll prove to Seonghwa just how wrong he is about that.

Reaching forward to take hold of the empath’s jaw, San’s grip is gentle as his fingers dust along Seonghwa’s cheek. Seonghwa’s skin is warm, a beautiful kind of soft, and San takes a moment to run his thumb along Seonghwa’s cheekbone, his own heart fluttering at the way the empath’s skin floods with a light shade of pink.

Seonghwa’s eyes flutter shut, lips parted open slightly, waiting for San to accept them. San waits for a moment, taking in the sight before him, registering that this is actually happening. That Seonghwa - the man he’s only let himself love in seclusion, in weakness, in devastating secret - waits for San’s lips to meet his own.

Closing his good eye, San takes Seonghwa’s face in his hand, fingers grazing the conjunction between his neck and jaw. The empath’s skin is warm and San wonders if he’s blushing.

Seonghwa’s lips are soft. Softer than San imagined them to be, admittedly watching the empath’s mouth at times rather than his eyes. Embarrassing. Foolish. Pitiful. 

But perhaps not anymore. Not right now. Right now is anything but such cruel negativity.

San makes sure that the kiss is good. That it holds a sense of passion, by no means chaste or hesitant, but also is not aggressive or to the point of formidability. He grips Seonghwa’s jaw a little tighter, pulling him in deeper.

More than anything, San makes sure that the kiss is tender. 

Seonghwa sucks in a tight breath, and for a moment San fears that he’s uncomfortable, repulsed by it. That this was a mistake. That the rejection he’s been terrified of for so long is just a moment away. Maybe Seonghwa won’t even be able to look at him after, he’ll be too disgusted. 

But then Seonghwa’s hand finds itself on San’s arm. It rests there, Seonghwa’s fingers gently gripping San’s tunic. In that moment, the swordsman can almost feel as the fear and anxiety leaves his mind, draining from his body like a fruit squeezed of its juice. 

Not rejection. Maybe not acceptance, maybe not a confession or admission on Seonghwa’s behalf. But not rejection.

And with no rejection to be found, San knows what he must do.

He pulls away from Seonghwa’s lips, albeit not far, as he rests his forehead against the empath’s own. He can’t look Seonghwa in the eye for this, he knows it will make him too much of a coward to get the words out.

“I need to tell you something now,” San says.

Seonghwa’s voice is shaky as he speaks, quiet as his breath grazes San’s lips. “Okay.”

San holds his breath, as if he is about to dive underwater.

“I love you.”

There is a pause, and while San knows that realistically it is no more than a few seconds, it feels far more like an eternity as they pass by. He imagines all of the things Seonghwa could say. All the many variations of rejection or denial he could utter, ranging from a simple “no” to an entire memoir on why Seonghwa would never feel the same.

Seonghwa says none of these things. Instead he asks: “As in how?”

It takes San a moment to register what Seonghwa is asking. “As in I’m in love with you,” San clarifies.

“But…” Seonghwa starts, and in the moment’s pause he finally draws away from San’s face. When he looks at San, his face gives nothing away, a surprise given the empath’s often animated nature. Perhaps it is because he also does not know how he feels, how to respond to such a confession. Seonghwa does not smile, nor does he frown. His eyes do not light up with joy, nor do they swim with despair. 

In fact, the only emotion San can read is the wariness within Seonghwa’s gaze. A deep sense of caution. “What about Woo?” Seonghwa asks.

“I also love Woo.” San says, because it is true. Even after everything. Even after what happened at the beach the other night. Even with the line dug in the sand between them, a line that San himself has drawn, he knows that he will always love Woo. Always. 

Seonghwa frowns, eyebrows furrowing together into a puzzled look, as if the possibility of loving two people in such a way had never occurred to him before. As if the possibility of San loving two people in such a way were impossible. 

“I love him differently,” San admits, before thinking about it for a moment. “But at the same time, maybe not so differently either.”

“I don’t get it,” Seonghwa says, and for a moment San believes that he is talking about how San could love them both, but then Seonghwa clarifies: “How can you love me? For the last year you’ve kept me at such a distance. You’ve barely been able to touch me, let alone anything more than that.”

The words settle like a stone in San’s gut, and he thinks of their conversation at the fire after their run-in at The Desert Lotus. How Seonghwa had believed that he made San uncomfortable.

It was true. Touching Seonghwa did make San uncomfortable. Uncomfortable with how with each touch filled him with the desire to touch him more.

San’s voice is quiet as he speaks. “And why do you think that is, Hwa?”

“I don’t know,” Seonghwa answers, an immediate response, dejected as his gaze drifts away from San to look downwards. To Woo’s bed beneath them.

A flash of realization dawns on Seonghwa’s features, lighting up within the empath’s eyes. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” San says, unable to hide the amused smile that grazes his lips. “Oh.”

Seonghwa seems to consider this for a moment, before looking back up at San. “You know I love you too, right?

San’s eyebrows shoot up at this, and Seonghwa rushes to clarify. “Maybe not in the same way. Or maybe I do. I honestly don’t know. This is all new. I need some time to think about it.”

San nods. That’s fair. He hadn’t expected Seonghwa to immediately reciprocate his feelings. Although, maybe a little part of him deep down had foolishly hoped that he would.

Seonghwa seems to take note of the slight solemnity to San’s smile, and places his hand over the swordsman’s own. “But either way, I love you. And I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”                                             

“You won’t” San replies, and it is instant. It is instinct. It is the truth. “Take all of the time you need.”

“Thank you,” Seonghwa says, giving San’s hand a soft squeeze.

A moment of silence passes between them, and despite its slight awkwardness, San finds it the least tense he’s felt around Seonghwa in a very long time. It’s as if a weight has been taken off of his shoulders, finally free of the deep sense of guilt in the quiet moment’s between them. When San’s mind would wander, and he’d hate himself for thinking such things about his closest friend, and then hate himself even more for being too much of a coward to tell his closest friend what he was thinking.

But now Seonghwa knows. He knows. And no matter the outcome, no matter what he feels towards San in return, San no longer has to hide or wallow in his own guilt.

It is freeing.

Seonghwa takes a sip of his drink. “That was a good kiss though,” he mumbles over the rim of his glass, and San laughs. A real laugh, bubbling up from his chest. It’s been too long since he laughed like that.

Then, as if a reminder of how not all good things can last, Yeji bursts in through the tent flap.

“She’s gone,” Yeji says, voice cracking with shock and worry. She’s wrapped in her blanket to cover her nightgown, her hair falling in tangled red curtains over her shoulders, clearly having just woken up. “She’s gone and a horse is missing.”

San’s heart drops down into his stomach.

He doesn’t need to ask who the “she” is that Yeji refers to, nor does he need to question where you went.

You’ve gone to find Woo. Alone.

You've gone to find Woo, alone, amongst men who are willing to pay a fortune to see you dead.

“Fuck,” Seonghwa breathes, voicing San’s own thoughts.

“Do you know when she left?” San asks, as it couldn't have been long ago. It had to be some time after San came inside the tent, otherwise he would have noticed you sneak out.

“Her bed is still warm. So recently,” Yeji answers, confirming San’s suspicions. 

“Alright,” San breathes, before turning to Seonghwa. “Let’s go.”

Seonghwa nods in agreement, and without another word, they’re on their feet and heading out through the tent flap. Annoyance bubbles within San’s gut. He told you not to go. He told you to wait until he came up with a plan. A plan that meant getting both you and Woo to safety, not forcing you all to pick between one or the other. He is not one of the gods and has no interest in playing one.

You seem to have made the decision yourself, and while San resents you for not telling him or Seonghwa what you were planning, he understands why you did it.

Because San was never going to come up with a better plan. Time has been ticking since the moment he found the message scrawled in the alley, and his ideas have run dry. There is no better way, it was always going to end in you heading up the mountain to Woo’s aid. You wouldn’t have had it any other way, and deep down San knows he would have had it the same.

He just wishes that they were there with you. There to help you. To protect you. To kill these men with far too much power, who took everything from you.

Who took everything from him when they kidnapped Woo.

The sun has begun to set over the horizon as you ride along the Concorsus Mountain Pass.

An entire day having come and gone, your pace relentless as you rode in a restless pursuit, your body now aches in protest. Your thighs burn from their friction against the horse’s back, the muscles in your arms throbbing from maintaining your grip on the reins. Your stomach rumbles and groans, gnawing at your insides in hunger, head-pounding in demand of water.

But there is no time to eat or drink, not when only the god’s know what the black-clad men are doing to Woo.

You’ve had an awful lot of time spent in silence to consider the many possibilities of how they could be torturing him, all too gut-wrenching and grotesque to even think about. You try to push away the images of Woo bathed in blood, his face swollen with bruises and infected wounds. You hope that they have him in a room somewhere, untouched, awaiting your inevitable arrival.

You also recognize this as wishful thinking.

Pushing the thoughts from your mind, you focus on the trail ahead of you. The Concorsus Mountain Pass is not an easy ride, the ground full of jagged rocks and rolling hills that have put your elementary equestrian skills to the test. Looming cliffs rest on each side of you, the black-colour of the rock like two blankets of darkness threatening to crush you between them.

The black-clad men did not specify where along the pass you were to meet them, but as you continue to ascend higher and higher, the increase in altitude making you feel both dizzy and nauseous, you imagine that they are stationed at the mountain’s summit.

As far away from Bebbanburg and any chance at aid you could possibly be.

You swallow hard, riding onwards. You have no help here, no protection. Having abandoned the safety net that San and Seonghwa created, you are truly alone in this. Your only protection is the sword attached to your waist, as well as Minho’s elixir residing in your pocket— if you could even consider that protection. It’s old magic, not even the god’s know what it will do. You aren’t particularly keen on ingesting it.

But if it comes down to a choice between life and death, a matter of saving Woo, you will.

With this in mind, you approach a rock wall. It’s not particularly large, five-feet tall at most, but your horse whinnies in protest as it comes to a stop before it. You try to give it a bit of encouragement, but the animal does not budge, clomping its hooves in irritation.

You sigh. This is not a horse from the kingdom stables, bred to ride and trained to jump, you have to leave it behind. Letting yourself down from its back, you grab the cliff’s edge, pulling yourself up and over the wall. Crawling up off your knees, you cast the animal a glance backwards, to which it meets with its black marble eyes.

The horse continues to huff, neighing in frustration. You frown as the animal grows louder, squealing as it lifts up onto its back legs, crying out.

“What the…” you mutter to yourself.

“It’s trying to warn you,” a voice says from behind.

You twist around, hand reaching for the sword at your waist, but you are not fast enough. The stranger grabs your wrist as you turn around, his other hand digging into your scalp. He pulls your hair back, forcing you to look up at him.

He’s young, maybe only a couple years older than yourself, with dark eyes and pale skin. His light hair is made brighter through its contrast with the black armour he wears.

“Hey, Princess,” the man says, grinning. You spit in his face, but he simply laughs, giving your hair a sharp tug backward. His laughter is quickly accompanied by others, as more black-clad men appear from behind different dark rocks along the mountain walls. You count what appears to be a half-dozen of them, all different ages and sizes, appearances united only through the black armour they wear. 

Giving your body a sharp twist, you catch the man off guard, before giving him a swift knee to the groin. He lets out a groan, his grasp on your hair relinquishing itself as he stumbles backward.

You’re prepared to run, to jump down from the cliff and back to your horse in hopes of finding more allusive passage, when you feel the coolness of metal along your throat.

“You’ve gained some spunk since we last saw you,” the man holding the knife whispers, seizing your wrist as he tugs your arm behind your back. You wonder if he was one of the men that chased you down the corridors following the besiegement, that hunted you in your father’s library. That killed Mingi in the stable.

“Good,” another adds, although which of the men is speaking you cannot tell. “It’ll make this all the more enjoyable.”

You were correct about their base being set at the mountain’s summit.

The men have been dragging you with them for what you assume has been roughly an hour, the setting sun having finally fallen victim to the night’s darkness. Stars glitter in the sky above you, and they are the only light present besides the singular torch one of the men carries, alighting the mountain pass in an ominous, orange hue.

They’ve remained silent since your capture, although the glances and cunning grins they’ve exchanged between one another have spoken loud enough. You don’t know what exactly is waiting for you at the summit, but you know it isn’t pretty.

The cave you approach at the top of the mountain seems fitting, as it's possibly the most unwelcoming entry-way you’ve ever seen. Sharp rocks align its entrance, each of them bleached white from sun exposure, creating the illusion of a monster’s gaping mouth.

You swallow hard, fear curdling within your stomach. It’s fitting, as entering a beast's mouth seems an awful lot like what you are doing. 

Upon entering the cave, the initial darkness does not last long, as you spot light further up ahead of the winding tunnel. As you draw closer, you recognize the light to be lanterns, strown up and around the cave. The bustle of people fills your ears, their chatter growing louder with each passing step. When you finally leave the tunnel and enter the cave’s main area, you blink in surprise.

You aren’t sure what you were expecting. Solemnity, perhaps. A dark cave with minimal light, nobody talking. A monster’s domain.

Instead, it reminds you an awful lot of the refuge, albeit smaller. There are plenty of tents set up, people sharing in conversation between them. Others spend their time chopping firewood, or brushing dirt and gravel away from their own tent’s entrance. To the left of the camp-site is a massive ravine, haphazardly blocked off by wooden pegs stringed together with rope. You are not close enough to the edge to tell, but you imagine the fall to be  hundreds of feet down. Deadly.

You glance around, watching the many men bustling about, as if this were merely a war-camp and not the station of murderess assailants.

Then you see him.

Woo resides on a makeshift parapet in the center of the camp, chains clamped around his wrists that are attached to large stone pillars on both sides of him. He sits on his knees, head hanging out in front of him, his hair falling in a dark mop that hides face. It appears that if it weren’t for the chains holding his arms up, he’d have already crumpled over.

Your blood runs cold.

The talking comes to a quiet as you enter, the dozens of black-clad soldiers all turning away from their conversations or menial tasks to face you. “Look who we found wandering,” the man holding you says, bringing his knife up from your throat to your cheek. He presses the blade against your jaw, forcing you to look up, displaying your face to the many men watching you.

Some of the men begin to snicker, a few even cheer as the man pushes the blade a little harder, piercing your skin. You can feel the blood trickle down your neck, although the sensation feels more like a dream than reality, as you catch sight of a man walking towards you.

Not just any man, but the one that chased you through the library. The one that cornered you in the stables.

The man responsible for Mingi’s death.

He walks slowly, almost a saunter as he appears to be in no rush. His posture holds a sense of confident ease, of power, and you’re certain that he is the commander of this army. His narrow, wrinkled face adorns a thick black beard. His eyes are dark, sharp as they scan you up and down, a satisfied smile plastered across his lips.

“Well,” the commander says, his voice not particularly deep, but intimidating nonetheless. “We were beginning to think you wouldn’t come.”

You say nothing, merely stare back at him, venom in your gaze.

“I’m assuming you’re here to save your friend then,” he says, continuing despite your silence. “How very noble.”

You do not give him the satisfaction of a retort.

“You’ve become rather stoic since I last saw you,” the commander says, eyes flashing with something awful. Something cruel. “Before you wouldn’t stop screaming. Begging your other friend not to sacrifice himself— the tall silver-haired boy, wasn’t it?”

“Shut up,” you whisper, tears stinging in the backs of your eyes. They are born of rage, not sadness. You do not let them fall.

“I suppose this is some sort of retribution for that, isn’t it?” The man continues, tone calm, almost light. “He gave his life for you, so now you’ll give yours for another.”

“Shut up,” you repeat, this time louder and with far more bite.

“You should have heard him scream. You should have heard the sound it made when my sword entered him again and again-”

You’ve had enough of this. Tears sting your eyes, fists trembling at your sides. You don’t have to listen to this man, give in to his taunts. He simply wants to have some enjoyment before he kills you, some sick sort of pleasure. Your father always said it was impolite to play with your food, and for once you’d have to agree with him.

“Woo!” You shout, turning your attention away from the man in front of you, from his barbed provocation. When Woo does not look at you, nor move his head from its slumped position, you try again. “Woo, can you hear me?”

“Unfortunately, Wooyoung isn’t quite with us anymore,” the commander answers with a sigh, tone sympathetic, although the smile he wears is anything but. “Not mentally, anyway.”

You frown at the use of Woo’s full name. How does he know that? Did Woo tell him?

“What are you talking about?” You ask, your voice low as fury rises hot in your throat, pulsing within your mind.

The man grins. A mischievous, dangerous, evil grin. “Would you like to come and see?”

The commander nods towards the man holding you, giving a look that says— no, orders: “Let her go.” The man’s knife falls away from your throat as he reliquishes his grip on your arm. You can still feel the spot where his fingers were, aching where bruises will surely soon appear.

Nobody moves to grab you, and it strikes you that in this moment, you could try to flee. Bolt back down the tunnel, dozens of men sure to take after you and grab you once more. You’re certain they would be far less liberal on your second capture.

You could try and fight. Relinquish your sword from its sheath and take out as many as possible. It would likely be only one or two, considering they’d all be on you and you don’t have San here to coach you through it. By the god’s you wish that San were here.

But he is not, and thus instead of fleeing or fighting you follow the man, obeying as his hand beckons you forward. “Good girl,” he says, and your gut clenches in disgust, face twisting with repulsion.

If the commander is offended by the expression, he doesn’t show it. Instead he continues walking, the two of you winding past different groups of the black-clad men, each of their gazes falling over you. You feel like a gazelle in a den of lions, their stares hungry for your blood.

When you reach Woo, you take a step forward, unsure of what exactly you plan to do. Perhaps move the thick mess of tangled hair from his face, or give the chains some slack to loosen the pull on his wrists. You just need to do something.

The commander places an arm out, stopping you. “I wouldn’t get too close if I were you.”

“Well, good thing you’re not me,” you cut back through gritted teeth, moving towards Woo. You crouch down, reaching for the chain on his right wrist.

“Woo, I’m here,” you say, trying to keep your voice level, even as it shakes. The commander had suggested that Woo wasn’t mentally here, and while you aren’t sure exactly what that may mean, you know you should navigate this with caution. 

When your hand touches the chain around his wrist, Woo lets out an awful, blood-curdling noise. You’d describe it as a scream, but that would make it too human. It is nothing less than animalistic.

Flames emerge from the elemental’s palms, scorching your arm. You yank your hand away, wincing as pain bubbles within your fingers. Despite yourself, you step back, clutching your burnt hand.

Woo looks at you, except that he doesn’t really. Instead his eyes almost look through you, unfocused and distant, although that’s the least of what worries you about his appearance. 

Apart from the unsettling and distant look to his eyes, the whites of them have shifted to a strange and unnatural purple colour, like blooming lilacs during the spring season. It contrasts greatly against the many thick red veins expanding out from his pupils, which have spread across his iris’ in a way that reminds you of black marbles.

His wrists are laced with wounds, the metal of his bonds having heated up due to the fire he unleashed from his palms. The burns are clearly infected as they beam a revolting yellow, puss forming within their deep gashes. Those will scar, you have no doubt.

Sweat beads along Woo’s temple, trailing down his face and onto his neck. You hadn’t noticed it before, but his entire body is drenched, all of his clothes soaked through. He trembles, tremors seizing his body as he breathes heavily, chest heaving as he appears to not be able to get enough air.

“What did you do to him?” You whisper. The man chuckles.

“We gave him an elixir of sorts,” he answers, and your stomach twists at the thought. Old magic. The weight of your own potion grows heavy in your pocket.

Woo continues to shake, arms trembling as he continues to look through you. Tears form in his eyes as he begins to murmur beneath his breath, although what exactly you cannot make out. You didn’t know what the men would do to him, what state he would be in, but you never could have imagined this. Fury twists in your gut like a cheap ale, making you feel sick with ferocity.

“Why would you do this?” You ask, and it’s the question that has been pressing down on your shoulders ever since you watched the dagger enter your father's stomach. You twist towards the commander, and despite how he stands taller than you, you do not let yourself appear weak. Chin held up high, you meet his gaze.

“Why would you destroy my kingdom? Why would you spend so much time and effort hunting me across Burovia? Why would you place such an utter fortune of a bounty on my head?” You look him up and down. “Who are you?”

The man grins. “Me? I am nobody.”

“Enough games-” You snarl, but he merely shakes his head, giving you a dismissive wave.

“You think I care about a pampered royal brat bred by a kingdom of snakes?” The commander asks, his dark eyes glimmering in the many lantern’s light. “I couldn't care less about your disaster of a court, although I must say I enjoyed burning it to the ground.”

You frown. “Then why would you-”

“Because my employer cares,” he cuts you off, tone final. He folds his arms behind his back, a clicking noise filling the air as he taps his fingers along his black armor. 

“Who is your employer?” You press further, ignoring how the noise matches the beat of your racing heart, that’s pace only increases with each passing second.

“I am not to say,” he answers with a shrug.

You grit your teeth, frustration building in your chest. “If you plan to kill me then what does it matter?”

The man hums, grin growing wider with satisfaction. “Does it scare you, the possibility of never knowing?” He takes a step forward. “Does it terrify you to never know why your kingdom burned to ash, to never know why your father was murdered?”

The man is close now, peering down at you, the crow’s feet along the edges of his ageing eyes more prominent as he stands before you. He reaches forward, running two of his fingers along your bare cheek.

“Does it frighten you that you’ll never know why you died?” He asks.

You do not flinch, even as he touches you, even as your body demands it. “You do not scare me,” you lie.

He chuckles at this, his hand still placed on your cheek, his calloused fingertips rough against your skin. “Your eyes say otherwise.”

The commander reaches to his side, pulling out a knife. Its long blade is serrated, details of stars carved into its wooden hilt. It reminds you a bit of the one Seonghwa gave you, the one Woo took on that first night you met them.

He extends the blade out towards you, hilt settled neatly in his open palm. “Would you like to do the honours? Or should I?”

You stare at the knife out before you, its blade a cool white, almost glowing within the cave’s dim lighting. He’s offering you a choice. Not of whether or not you will die, but how. Or better, by whom.

To do the deed yourself, or have it done by his own hand. 

Your hand hovers out in front of you, fingertips a mere inch away from the hilt. You stare at the knife, at its cool iron, at its spotless white blade. Soon to be tainted. Your hand shakes despite your attempt to steady it.

It’s a horrible, horrible decision to make.

Fortunately, the arrow that embeds itself in the commander’s arm liberates you from making it.

Sticking out from the crook of his elbow, nestled within a small gap in armor that was designed for amplified movement, the man lets out a shocked groan of pain. The knife clatters on the cave’s rocky floor as he brings his hand to the wound, the blood emerging from the black fabric not noticeable until it coats his pale fingers.

In unison, both you and the commander twist in the direction from which the arrow flew.

Seonghwa stands atop a rock in the far corner of the cavern, bow drawn up, still in the position from which he let the arrow fly. You nearly let out a cry of relief. Joyous, unadulterated relief.

A scream cuts through the air, followed by the thud of a body hitting the floor.

There’s another noise, a gargled and choked sort of cry, and you hear the sharp sound of the many black-clad men unsheathing their swords before you actually see them do it.

This is because your focus is not on them. It’s on San, as he holds a body out before him. It’s one of the men that captured you on the mountain pass, the young blonde. San’s sword sticks out through the man’s chest, blood pooling out from his mouth as his eyes grow dim.

It’s immediate, how the cavern erupts into chaos.

“Seize them!” The commander orders his battalion, before ripping the arrow from his arm. Despite the blood leaking from the now open wound, his movements are agile as he removes the sword from his own sheath. The blade is as black as night, matching its shadowy hilt.

You stare him down, relinquishing your own sword, your mother’s sapphire glittering.

You prepare to take a step forward, however, something presses up behind your back. You prepare to twist around, strike the oncoming threat. However, San’s voice fills your ear, quiet as he speaks over his shoulder. “We move together.”

“Alright,” you breathe, lifting your long-sword out before you as San’s back presses into your own. “Together.”

The black-clad men attack.

They move at you from all directions. San places his free-hand along your waist, guiding you with him. The two of you move with the grace of one being, fending off the dark wave of men that surround you like a swarm of hornets defending their hive.

You swing at one of the men, catching his shoulder as San pushes on your left hip. You move with it, narrowly dodging the strike of a different enemy blade, the breeze of his swing cool against your cheek. The failed strike catches the owner of the blade off-balance, allowing you to seize the opportunity to stab your sword into the soft spot of his breastplate, straight through the opening just below the pit of his arm. The man cries out, face knotting together in agony as he falls to the ground.

You do not allow yourself the time to dwell on how you’ve likely just taken that man’s life, how there are even more to come, as you slice your sword along another soldier’s neck. Save yourself, save Woo, save your kingdom. You can mourn the horrors of your deeds later, for now that is all that matters.

You catch a glimpse of a man in the corner of your vision, hair the colour of flame as he sneaks in behind the soldier whose chest you currently run-through with your blade. You won’t reach him in time, his sword is raised high in the air, another second and he’ll bring it down on your neck-

An arrow shoots right through his skull, entering near his ear as the point sticks out the other side of his head. Blood sprays out from the wound, splattering onto your tunic. The man crumples to the ground, falling in the direction of the arrow’s path. Dead.

Your gaze shoots to Seonghwa. He stands atop the rock, eyes wide as his gaze falls to the man on the ground. The man he killed. Horror is plastered across his own expression, as if realizing what he has done. Woo had once told you that Seonghwa has only ever wounded with his arrows. He’s never killed, not even beasts.

You worry he will crumble, just as you did after the mimic, just as you had the first time you’d taken the life of something. Instead Seonghwa swallows hard, a glazed look to his eyes as he gives you a nod, before removing another arrow from his quiver. You have a sense he’s also saving his pain for later.

San tugs you to the left, and your gaze is pulled away from Seonghwa and back to the battle before you. A man swings at you, and you push backwards against San to avoid the swipe. You worry it will cause San to tumble, but instead he sinks lower on knees, flattening his back. Using it for support, you fall back and into the air, giving the man in front of you a firm kick to the chest that sends him backwards, crashing into a few of the men behind him.

You grin. It’s satisfying, watching the men who took everything from you struggle.

And struggle they do indeed. You and San work as a tight-knit unit as Seonghwa picks off the stranglers with his arrows, as well as those attempting to crawl atop his residing stone. 

“By the gods,” you think. “We’re winning.”

However, if you are aware of this, so is the man leading the operation. 

You search for the commander amidst the swarm of black armour surrounding you, trying to pin-point his dark beard and aging face. He doesn’t appear to be a part of the mob. 

“Do you know where he went? The commander?” You ask San, yelling over the sound of battle cries and the screams of the wounded. San does not respond immediately, likely searching for him amidst the crowd. 

San lets out a sudden growl of annoyance. “He’s with Woo.”

You glance over your shoulder, seeing the commander next to the elemental. He stands behind Woo, lips drawn close to his ear, hand placed on the elemental’s shoulder. You cannot hear what the commander is saying to him, but you know that it is nothing good. 

Woo’s eyes are wide, the purple where the white’s of his eyes should be growing darker. Tears stream down his face and they are a matching colour, like drops of ink. You can see Woo whispering something, and while you cannot make out the words, the desperation on his face makes you believe that he is begging. Although what he is pleading for you do not know.

Fire surrounds them, leaking from Woo’s fingertips and onto the cavern floor. The flames run thick, the consistency of molten lava. You’ve never seen that from an elemental before, didn’t even know it was possible..

“We need to make our way over there,” you say while stabbing your sword into the arm of a black-clad soldier. You can feel San nod his head in affirmation.

Wrapping his free hand tighter around your waist, San pulls you with him, the two of you spinning through an opening within the mob. You nearly trip over something, and upon looking down you see that it is a body. His dead eyes look up at you. They are a light hazel.

You would vomit if there was anything solid in your stomach.

San pulls you past the man before you can stare at him for too long, before you can memorize the features of his face, before you can wonder if it was he or you who killed him.

So much death. So much needless death. You close your eyes, only for the briefest of moments, for the split of a second. You imagine you are the person you had been a mere month ago. The girl who let her baths be drawn from her, her clothes picked out and placed on her body by others. The girl who sulked when Mingi left for battle training, who’d never held a sword in her hands, let alone ran someone through with it.

You open your eyes and know that you will never be her again. 

San continues to pull you with him through the opening within the dark swarm, letting go of your waist as the two of you break through and sprint towards Woo.

The commander continues to whisper into the elemental’s ear, more molten lava dripping from Woo’s hands. It forms in pools on the cavern floor, slowly trailing down the parapet in a way that reminds you of the baby basilisks, like long thin glowing snakes.

It’s not until now that you realize what the commander is doing, as Woo grows more and more affected by his words, blood-vessel’s bursting in his eyes as red mixes itself into the purple. A mosaic of burning hues.

The commander knows that he is losing, which means he’s pulling out a last resort, willing to play his wild-card. He plans to use Woo as a weapon. He’ll do whatever it takes to take you out, even if that means his battalion goes down with you. Bastard.

The commander steps back from Woo, walking over to the top of the chain tied to one of the stone pillars. He will set Woo free, grant him full range of motion with his gift. After all, an elemental can only summon flame with movement, with the dancing of their fingers or full swing of their arms.

Only Woo is not your average elemental.

Before the commander can finish untying the first chain, Woo screams. It’s not as animalistic as his last, but far, far more broken. Fire flares out from around him, a massive wave of curling flames that tumbles in all directions, standing over ten feet tall.

You grab San’s wrist, yanking him with you as you dive behind the nearest rock. Face pressed to the ground, you do not see the fire as it stretches over top of you, but you can feel its heat along your back even through your tunic. Screams echo from all around, bouncing off of the cavern's walls, and you know that not everyone was so lucky.

Once the heat disappears, both you and San are quick to settle onto your knees, peering up over the rock. Woo’s head has fallen back down, shrouded in tangled black hair, chest heaving as he catches his breath. The commander, who had fallen to the ground behind him, rises to his feet.

You gasp.

While it appears he managed to find shelter before the flames completely engulfed him, he also did not make it out unscathed. The left half of his face burns a bright red colour, the skin bubbling with boils in a way resembles lumps of flour in unkneaded dough. His dark hair is gone on the affected side, both on his face and the top of his head, smoke billowing out from his disintegrated scalp.

With so much of his skin burned off, his eye nearly pops from his head, stark against his bright red skin. He looks undead, like a walking skeleton, the teeth on the left side of his mouth permanently visible due to his upper lip having been incinerated. His gums bleed, the red almost glowing against the whiteness of his teeth.

Your gut twists at the sight of him, and you have to look away.

Black-clad soldiers sit slumped around the cavern, broken moans leaving their lips as the fire was not enough to kill them all. The agony of their cries fills your ears, and although you fight against it tears sting your eyes. You know that these are bad men, men who killed your father and countless innocents in the castle, who ruined your life and want nothing more than to see your end.

But right now they are just men. They are just human, each one with their own life and story, and they are dying a slow and horrible death.

The blow to the back of your head stops you from becoming too absorbed in remorse.

It comes sharp and quick, carrying the heaviness of what you assume is a rock, and your vision momentarily sways. It doesn’t knock you out, but it does throw you off balance, giving the attacker enough time to seize your wrist. They give it a sharp twist, causing you to let out a whine of pain as your sword clatters to the ground.

The culprit drags you from behind, and you fight to remain on your feet. You shout to San, and while he twists to face you he is moment too late, as the person from behind shoves you away from them.

And into the arms of the commander.

The commander grins, his smile even more unsettling with his missing lip as he casts an appreciative nod to the young, brunette soldier who had grabbed you. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck, uncomfortably tight as he turns you to face away from him, chest pressed against your back.

With his spare hand he holds a knife to your throat.

“Enough of this,” the commander says. “Put your weapons down.”

The world around you stills as San comes to a halt, gaze sharp as his good eye flickers between you and the commander, analyzing the situation. He appears to come to no solution as he slowly retracts his sword back into its sheath.

However, not everyone follows his orders.

“Let her go.”

Seonghwa no longer resides atop the rock, likely having dived behind it to avoid the flames. Now on the ground, he stands roughly twenty feet ahead of you, his bow up and arrow drawn.

“What an awful accent,” the man laughs, and his voice sounds more manic now that he is on the verge of defeat. Of death. His cheek presses to yours, and you can feel his spittle against your skin, smell the rotten tang of his breath. “Like a Mainlander that swallowed his tongue.”

Seonghwa’s frown deepens, eyebrows furrowing together as he pulls the bow taught.

“You let that arrow fly and we both go down with it, boy,” the commander warns, and you can hear the smile in his voice. Such an awful smile. “Choose wisely.”

For a moment you don’t understand what he means, but realization sinks like a stone in your gut. The ravine resides behind you, hundreds of feet deep, the belly of a monster whose darkness would swallow you whole. 

“Take your mutt and leave,” the man says to San, nodding towards Woo, who has returned to his slumped position, skin glistening with sweat as his arms tremble.

“So you can kill her as soon as we’re gone?” San bites back, tone venomous. “I don’t think so.”

“I promise to make it quick and painless,” the man says softly, before pressing the knife into your neck. Not deep, but enough to make you gasp in pain. “Otherwise I can make it very, very slow.”

Seonghwa’s hands grip tighter around the bow, San’s expression settling into a snarl of fury. However, neither of them move. If San moves to attack him, he’ll simply slice your throat. If Seonghwa fires the arrow, you’ll plummet with him. You try to reach Minho’s elixir in your pocket, but cannot manage it. Besides, even if you did manage to grasp it, there’s no way the commander would let you go long enough to down the liquid.

He has you cornered, and you all know it. 

Well, that is except for one of you. You turn to Woo.

The elemental does not look at you as you speak. “Woo,” you call, the knife sharp against your throat as it bobs. “Can you hear me?”

“No, he can’t hear you.” The commander whispers into your ear, and you can feel the hollowness of his cheek as he speaks, the rough and ruined texture of his skin.  “Or maybe he can, but who knows how much of him is even left in there.”

“Woo,” you call again, ignoring him, even as his words send a shiver down your spine. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but it’s me. It’s us, we’re all here. San, Seonghwa and I. We’re all here.”

Woo twitches at this, although he still does not lift his head. You hear him murmuring something beneath his breath, and it’s a moment until you can register what he is saying.

“You’re not real,” he whispers, voice shaky and blubbered. “You’re not real.”

You swallow hard. “I don’t know what he did to you, and I don’t know what you’re seeing or hearing or what’s going on, but I need you to lift your head.”

He doesn’t respond and you try again. “Please, Woo. Please, just lift your head for me.”

It takes a moment, but shakily, he does. His hair falls in dark matted clumps over his blood-shot, purple-stained eyes. His pupils still do not focus on you, a distant vacantness to the broken expression across his tear-stained face.

“Leave me alone,” he says, and it is a hoarse, beaten plea. “Please, please just stop. Let me die. Don’t bring me back. Please. I deserve it.”

Your heart twists at hearing Woo - confident, self-assured, unbreakable Woo - say something so self-demoralizing.

However, it’s with these words, these broken claims that he deserves it, that you have an idea of what horrors he may be seeing before him.

“Wooyoung,” you say, and you notice as Seonghwa’s brows furrow in confusion at the name, San raising an eyebrow. Perhaps it's the first time they’ve heard it. “Wooyoung do you remember our conversation by the fire?”

“Please just stop,” he whispers, shaking his head as more of the molten lava begins to leak from his hands.You don’t even know if he’s still listening, but this is your last shot, so you push on.

“You told me that you knew you should regret what you did to the wardens, that it should eat you up inside. But it didn’t, because they deserved it.”

Tears continue to stream down Woo’s face, which is contorted in a pained, agonizing expression. However, as he does not deny your words or continue his broken mumbling, you take his silence as a sign to continue.

“I haven’t been able to forgive myself for what I’ve done, and I don’t think I ever will,” you continue, and you know both San and Seonghwa are watching you as you can feel the heaviness of their gazes. The confused curiosity mixed with desperation that swirls within them, staring intently. Yet, you ignore them. You ignore the commander and the knife at your throat, the wails of agony in the air and the thick stench of burnt flesh.

Right now it is just you and the broken elemental before you. You and Woo.

“But that’s the difference between us,” you say, swallowing hard. “I chose to harm people that never deserved it.”

“Enough of this,” the commander says through gritted teeth, pressing the knife harder against your neck. Choking down the increasing pain, you ignore him.

“And you never deserved it Woo, any of it. Any of what Warden did to you, any of my father’s cruelty, any of my lies. None of it was ever deserved.”

Woo’s breathing begins to escalate, but this time it is not as if he’s having trouble taking in air, it’s as if he has realized that he finally can.

“Enough,�� the commander says again, with more anger in his voice as he appears to come to the same realization about Woo as you do.

“You’re there,” Woo whispers. His gaze is still lost and distant, his limbs still trembling and words blubbered with misery and fear. But there is also something more. Something powerful.

“We’re here,” you say back, relief blossoming in your chest. Even as the commander twists the back of your wrist and you let out a cry of pain, you’re filled with an undeniable, unbridled sense of hope.

“We need your help, Wooyoung,” you say, and the elemental swallows hard in response.

“I can’t,” he says, voice a quiet breath as he shakes his head in denial.

“You can,” you say, tone firm. You have him, even if only for a moment, and you will not let yourself lose him again. “You’ve done it before.”

Wooyoung stops shaking his head as he realizes what you are suggesting.

“Stop this!” the commander says, and now he’s shouting. He means it as a demand, as a threat, but it sounds instead an awful lot like a plea.

“You can do it, Wooyoung,” you say, the softness leaving your voice and replacing itself with a hardened encouragement. You will not yield.

“How do you know?” He asks, and even though his voice shakes, its weakness has fallen away.

A grin spreads across your lips. Even with the knife to your throat, the burnt bodies around, and the commander rotting breath hot against your skin, you smile.

You smile because you know you’ve won.

“Because, Wooyoung,” you say. “He deserves it.”

You can feel the commander’s grip around the knife clench, his elbow brought higher as he prepares himself to slice it clean across your throat.

“I said enough-” 

A blast of heat ignites from behind you, burning hot along your back, and you instinctively push forward. The commander's grip loosens without protest, the knife within his hand falling to the ground, clattering against the cavern’s rocky floor. A strong stench floods your senses, the same horrid and sickening scent that had previously hung around the cavern, only now increased ten-fold.

You twist around, putting yourself face-to-face with the commander, who’s entire body is engulfed in flame.

His screams leave him like waves crashing along the shoreline, powerful and ominous amidst their build-up but shattered and broken upon their downfall. The fire spreads across his body in a way that is almost unnatural, hugging close to his flesh as it eats away at his skin, a vicious parasite devouring him whole. He stumbles, and you cannot make out his expression, his face covered in the burning orange glow. Perhaps it is better that way.

He reaches forward blindly, his flame-covered hands extended outwards as he searches for your body. Even in death, he seeks to take you with him. Find his glory, his vengeance, even if it’s accompanied by his final breath.

And yet, even with all he has done to you, Woo, and your family, you grant the commander one final mercy. 

A quick death.

Reaching forward, you place your palms flat against his chest, giving him a firm push. It burns your hands, although only for a moment, as he stumbles backwards. His foot catches on one of the pegs tied together with rope before the cliff, sending him tumbling backwards. Time appears to stand still for a moment, an eternity slipping by as he hangs in the air, a ball of glowing flame suspended above the ravine’s gaping mouth.

He falls, the glow like a spark slowly diminishing, until it disappears entirely. You do not hear him crash against what lays beyond the darkness.

There’s a moment of silence that follows as you stare over the ravine’s edge. You half-expect the commander to fly back upwards, to catch you in a moment of weakness, suddenly equipped with new fire abilities of his own.

He does not. There is only darkness.

You turn back around. Both San and Seonghwa stare at you, both of their expressions difficult to place. Mouths parted slightly and eyes wide, they appear to be in disbelief. Awe, even. You imagine your face looks the same.

Woo sits with head hung over, eyes closed. For a moment you fear he is dead, but from the shaky rise and fall of his chest, you know that he is merely unconscious. 

There is the sound of footsteps as the few black-clad men left unscathed flee down the cave’s passage-way, leaving you behind. 

“Well,” San whispers, his good eye drifting from you, to Seonghwa, to the scattered bodies around you, before finally settling on Woo. He laughs, shaky and unsure, but at the same time so, so sincere. “Fuck.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

next chapter coming soon.

thank you for reading! feel free to come chat with me about any thoughts you may have, feedback is the one thing that keeps me going tbh. also, if you’re bored in the meantime, here are both my ateez and skz masterlists for your convenience. i hope to see you around :3

#seonghwa fanfic #san fanfic #wooyoung fanfic #seonghwa x reader #san x reader #wooyoung x reader #seonghwa angst #san angst #wooyoung angst #seonghwa fluff #san fluff #wooyoung fluff #seonghwa smut #san smut #wooyoung smut #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez series #seonghwa x you #san x you #wooyoung x you #woosanhwa #seonghwa fanfiction #san fanfiction #wooyoung fanfiction #ATEEZ fanfiction

[night-raven-tattler]

Hello there, I recently became a follower and I love your writing so far, keep up the great work and I hope you’re having a wonderful day

I saw that requests are open so if it’s alright, can I get headcannons of the first years (separate) and shows/movies they’d enjoy watching with the reader?

Thought it’ll be pretty fun and an excuse for me to get recommendations lol, thank you!

Hello, Aesthetic! Thank you for your kind words! This was a bit of a challenge for Mx Tattly, since they are not a huge movie person. However she hopes you still enjoy his takes. They also wrote from the perspective of the Prefect/Yuu having access to some movies from their world of origin. Enjoy!

Movie night, otherworldly edition

Characters: Grim, Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Ortho, Sebek and GN!Reader (separate)

Warnings: food mention (Epel's part)

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Grim's preffered genres are: comedy, action, animation, fantasy

Grim trully is a child at heart, and all the colorful characters and scenes from animation have him hooked

He also enjoys a good laugh, especially visual gags

He barely has any attention to spare for a series, so movies are his preffered format

He would never admit it but he's a sucker for found family

Silent movie crier

Loud denier

Some favorites from your world: Home; Bolt; That one Wizard Boy Movie we Don't mention in This Household; he has a weird relationship with Ace Ventura

『••✎••』

Ace's preffered genres are: horror, thriller, action, adventure

He enjoys gorey stuff and being the guy you hide behind of when the scenes get too much, but he needs time to prepare for psychological horror

Ace is the type to look up spoilers before watching something and he tries to trick you into believing his made up version of the plot

He talks a lot during movies but hates when others do it

While he enjoys a good adventure movie, he hates superhero movies and he thinks they're silly

He prefers movies over series because he likes the format more, but he's down for a short series

Some favorites from your world: The Mummy; Jumanji (he loves making fun of it); American Psycho; Scary Movie

『••✎••』

Deuce's preffered genres are: action, adventure, animation, family movies

He is pretty easy to please, he'd watch anything that is entertaining

Definitely a Marvel fan

He also loves animation movies, the animation always leaves him awestruck

He likes movies about families and their bonds

Deuce is also surprisingly into medical dramas... but also cop dramas

He is a crier as well but only when he's just with you

Some favorites from your world: Black Panther; The Rookie; A Goofy movie; Police Academy 2

『••✎••』

Jack's preferred genres are: documentary, adventure, romance, dramas and telenovelas with a bit of nudging

Jack is the type of guy to retain various informations after watching something

He can sometimes memorise entire scenes, and he finds that habit less annoying when he watches documentaries; he likes something informative and motivational

Jack also enjoys some romance movies sometimes, but he is very picky so it's hard for him to find one he actually likes

He does, however, like to point out and comment on the weird courting habits humans have

Jack finds telenovelas and soap operas kind of nonsensical and overly dramatic, but he also gets hooked on the plot pretty quick and soon enough it would become a bit of a guilty pleasure

Some favorites from your world: David Holmes, the boy who lived; the social dilemma; Love, Simon; Yo soy Betty la fea

『••✎••』

Epel's preferred genres are: comedy, action, western, anything he can mock and make fun of

If you think Ace is bad with his mid watch commentary, Epel is 10 times worse

He mocks things in movies so often he's giving Cinema Sins a run for their money

He won't shut up even if you give him all the snacks, he'll talk while eating

He also has the most colourful, boisterous, ridiculous laughter imaginable (and I say that lovingly), so if the comedy movie is not making you laugh then Epel's laughter is

Epel is not a picky watcher so he can get behind anything that isn't too sappy

If you pull out anything with Vil on the poster though he will dematerialise from your couch

Some favorites from your world: Rush Hour; Desperado; Puss in Boots 2; any Fast and Furious movie (unfortunately)

『••✎••』

Ortho's preferred genres are: anything he finds intriguing, family movies

If anything, Ortho has a wide palate and can enjoy almost anything

He also knows how a movie ends before he watches it, but it never ruins his enjoyment

He never spoils anyone unless they try to argue with him about the direction of the plot

Most of his interest in movies came from wanting to understand human behavior better, but now he can just use them as a time killer or sleepover material

He also likes watching your reactions to the movies: how often you laugh, how often you cry, how often you reach for snacks

A favorite from your world: Big Hero 6

『••✎••』

Sebek's preferred genres are: historical films, (period) dramas, musicals with the right nudge

Listen here, musical enjoyers. Here is the most susceptible one to being convinced to join the dark side

One word: Hamilton.

Yes, he'll think the music is nonsensical, BUT he'll also tap his foot to it

AND if you say anything about teaching him something from the soundtrack to surprise Malleus with, he's all ears

He is also very quick to get songs stuck in his head: he's easy prey

All jokes aside, Sebek can be a good watch buddy when his interest is piqued

Not even he can deny when a movie has good plot and characters

He does prefer period dramas, since he has a soft spot for the setting

And historical films: a nerd do be nerding even during movie nights

Some favorites from your world: The Crown, Hamilton, Les Miserables, maybe Oppenheimer but it would be used in his anti-human agenda

『••✎••』

Speaking of Oppenheimer...

Well, let's discuss Barbenheimer.

Everyone went to watch both movies:

Ace went dressed in pink for the both of them

Deuce got confused by the "dresscode" and apologised to you for not knowing about it

Jack and Ortho enjoyed both

Epel insisted he liked Oppenheimer more but he's lying

Sebek cried at the end of Barbie

Grim is the only one who in fully in Oppenheimer's corner

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst grim #ace trappola #deuce spade #jack howl #epel felmier #ortho shroud #sebek zigvolt #no beta we die like leona's chances to the throne

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Special Interest 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, age gap, creep behaviour, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The smooth jazz fills the aisle of the bookstore, a cozy warmth blowing from the vents above as you unwrap your scarf and let it hang loose from your neck. You unbutton the top of your coat, fanning yourself as the nip of winter fades. You tuck your gloves away and hike up your bag, stepping close to see the titles on the spines. The fog's finally gone from your lenses.

You have that one, oh and you already know how to crochet potholders, no you're looking for a challenge. Something different. You need new techniques if you want to keep your Etsy shop alive. You're not struggling... yet.

You pull out a book on how to crochet replicas of different plants; like a cactus or a daisy. You could do little faces on them or do a rainbow of colours. Your mind runs crazy with all sorts of alterations. You open it and flip through the pages, hiding behind the cover as you turn and lean on the shelf.

"Cute," a voice draws the book down an inch and you look down the aisle at the man facing the opposite shelf. He taps the shelf beneath the 'Gardening' sign as he smiles at you, "you know, they got a whole bunch of books about real plants down here."

You bring your brows together and furrow your nose. Who is this strange man judging you? The gall. I mean, look at him. He's a bit too old to be commenting on your interests.

"Uh, thanks, but I don't like to get dirty," you say without thinking. You're not the type to be rude but something about his tone really irks you.

You shift back to face the shelf and close the book. You slide out the other with sweater patterns. Those take so long, you haven't added those to your catalogue. You put it back and adjust your glasses as you pause and tap the book in your hand. Oh, great idea and you don't even need a pattern. You could do book covers and little bookmarks!

"You knit?" The man startles you again as he approaches.

You glance at him from the corner of your eyes, "crochet, but I can knit too."

"Huh, my mom does too. Tried to teach me but I'm all thumbs. I'm better with plants," he says.

You shake your head and focus on the shelf. You don't get why this guy is bugging you. On first glance, he's got at least ten years on you, maybe more. And why the heck is he bringing up his mom? You don't know her.

"Look, I hope I didn't come off rude, I was just... curious. I've never seen anyone knit a cactus before," he puts his hand on the top shelf.

"Crochet," you correct him again, keeping your chin set ahead of you.

"Yeah, crochet," he chuckles, "sorry, I'm a bit ignorant.”

You bite your tongue. You've heard of older men being a bit much but have lucked out in not being bothered by them. Until that moment.

“Cole,” he offers as he pulls his hand off the shelf, holding it out.

You don't even look. You're too nervous and honestly, annoyed. You want him to go away.

You count your losses. You don't need to splurge on a pile of books. One is fine, you can see if there's anything new on Pinterest.

You turn on your heel and head down the aisle, away from him. You hear him huff as you turn down the next, tempted to stop and look at the Tarot but wanting to get far away. You could probably hide out in the non-fiction section until he evacuates.

As you get to the end of that aisle, you find the book crushed against your front. You bounce off another person and stumble back. You look up at the stranger, Cole. He puts his hands up defenseless and grins.

“Oops, sorry, we keep running into each other.”

“Uh, alright,” you try to sidestep him but he does the same. You both move in the same pattern, back and forth, getting in each other's way, “okay, okay, just stay still.”

He stops and stares with wide eyes. You slowly sidle by, watching him to make sure he doesn't try anything. This is getting too weird for your liking.

You twirl and swiftly march away, hugging the book tight as you try not to trip in your hurry. You're too exposed at the checkout line so you surpass it and flee towards the comic book section. If that doesn't work, the bathrooms are right behind that.

You finally look back again as you get to the graphic novels. You can only see shelves. You're alone in the aisle, grumbling to yourself in agitation. “Creep.”

You take your time wandering, thinking maybe you might be able to get into Batman as you admire the art on each cover. Your adrenaline cools and you feel a bit less addled.

You sneak around the perimeter of the store and find your way back to the craft section. He's gone. Hopefully he went back home to his sad plants.

It's difficult to shake your unease. You pick out some of the needles they have hung with other small accessories and head to the till.

You join the line, your mind already trying to decide what you want to order at the cafe. As you step up, just about to get your turn at the counter, you feel a nudge, a silty voice rolling into you.

“Uh, excuse me,” the timbre is all too familiar.

“Really, dude,” you snap around, “take a hint.”

“You dropped your gloves.”

He holds up your wadded gloves and you cringe. You force a smile and snatch them away. “Thanks,” you grit out.

“Yeah, just being a nice guy,” he shrugs, “trust me, I got the hint.”

He steps back on his heel and turns his attention to the table of pens and other stationary that separate the tills from the rest of the store. You sniff and roll your eyes, quickly flitting up to checkout. The sooner you're gone, the better.

#cole turner #dark cole turner #dark!cole turner #cole turner x reader #ghosted #bookstore au #au #drabble #series #special interest

[grigori77]

Reasons to LOVE Dungeons & Dragons: Honour Among Thieves

It's brand new in cinemas, so there are still plenty who ain't seen it, so if you're among 'em best skip this and just GO SEE IT, it's SO well worth it, genuinely it's one of the best new movies I've seen so far this year. Hope you love it as much as I did!

So, yeah, there you go - SPOILER WARNING, FOLKS!!! If you don't wanna get spoiled, RUN!!!

Still here? Okay, here we go then ...

This really is, UNAPOLOGETICALLY, a comedy. I mean yeah, this is a classic fantasy action adventure in the Willow, Krull or Ladyhawke mold, but it is also very enthusiastically POKING FUN at the classic conventions of the genre ... albeit CLEARLY done with great affection and love for the material, as only the best lampoons can be. So this is more The Princess Bride or Galaxy Quest than Your Highness or Spaceballs ...

Chris Pine is ALWAYS at his best when he's being FUNNY, so he is PERFECT here. Edgin is most definitely a bit of a douchebag, but he's the sweetest, most lovable douchebag you'll ever encounter.

Holga. Literally just EVERYTHING about Holga. She's my favourite character in this, this REALLY IS the best role that Michelle Rodriguez has EVER HAD, if you ask me. She's a total badass, a truly AMAZING FIGHTER, but I love that despite her dour demeanour she's actually quite sweet, gentle and really a great innocent in many ways. She's an absolute cinammon roll and must be protected at all costs.

OH MY GODS!!! All the easter eggs, SO MANY easter eggs ... FAR too many to count throughout, all the references and nods and winks to the game itself, all the spells and races and creatures and stuff ... but I love how the movie NEVER beats you over the head pointing any of it out, it just lets you enjoy it. So the proper fans will get a huge kick out of spotting it all, but casual viewers will just enjoy it as rich worldbuilding colour and flavour.

Seriously though, it's a D&D fan's DREAM!!! Not just the mimic, or the owlbear, or the gelatinous cube! SO MUCH to spot ...

Justice Smith's Simon gets THE CLEVEREST and best introduction in the film, I love the theatre scene, he's SO BAD at this while also simulataneously being really great. Totally sums up this gloriously clunky hot mess of a sorcerer ...

the opening is GENIUS, totally sets the movie up as it means to go on - the parole hearing is a brilliant comedic take on the scene-setting infodump which is brilliantly carried through in the way the movie delivers exposition in a fun way or just lets you absorb it through what's happening in each scene. This is the perfect, TEXTBOOK way to do it.

"That is one pudgy dragon!" LOL

Doric. Just EVERYTHING about Doric. Sophia Lillis' tiefling druid is a wonderful diminutive little action hero, so fiesty and capable. I love her. It's just a shame she's not primary coloured, I'd have loved it even more if she'd been blue, or red ...

The Wildshape Escape! XD Yeah, I love that, that's THE BEST set-piece in the whole movie, definitely, when Doric gets cught out spying and has to shapeshift on the fly to get away, and it all plays out in one immersive single shot that just leaves your heart in your mouth ...

Oh, the Speak With The Dead montage, that is comedy GOLD. Funniest scene in the whole movie. And with added payoff at the end! XD

Rege-Jean Page's Xenk Yendar. Oh boy, that paladin is something else. I love how LITERAL he is, he's like Drax in GOTG but much more intelligent. Y'know when Holga says: "You're not a lot of fun, are you?" to him? She's so wrong. I just wish there was more of him in this ...

The heist! Oh, the heist! So good ... the portal trick, it's great, love the way they did that, and then that HILARIOUS bard illusion distraction - Pine skipping the song like a broken record was just chef's kiss!

That wonderful wibbly-wobbly illusory reality thing whenever Simon tries to atune to the Helm ... wow, that is some spectacularly trippy shit. Granted, twice is fine for terms of pacing, but I could've done with a few more scenes of that, it's fascinating.

Hugh Grant really has just become a MASTER at playing smarmy, slimy duplicitous gits now, hasn't he? Forge is a reprehensible prick and I love it.

I love how they made Bradley Cooper a halfling for his cameo. They're never gonna let him live down the fact that he's now probably best known for playing a two-foot-tall talking racoon so forever after he will be a Short King.

Wow, Daisy Head's Sofina is a CRACKING villain, she's just SO CREEPY!!! I love how coolly menacing she is, a brilliant dark necromantic wizard that just makes your skin crawl. Especially at the end ... IS SHE a lich? Is that what they were doing there?

That whole big action climax, the showdown in the city centre is FIRE!!! It's so amazing, so brilliantly dynamic, with EVEN MORE great easter eggs! Simon and Sofina having an insanely awesome "arm wrestling" bout with Mage Hand versus Earthen Grasp (I think that's the spell, couldn't be sure), oh my gods! So cool ... and then the way they neutralised the threat! Brilliant.

Chloe Coleman's Kira is an absolutely adorable delight, and I think she's ENTIRELY JUSTIFIED in how pissed she is at Edgin for abandoning her. It makes the payoff when they finally make up so much better.

And that resurrection scene at the end? Yeah, sure, I saw that coming a mile off, but it was so well done, and they played it so well, that it was still SUCH a powerful scene even so. Just perfect.

Seriously, they just did this whole thing SO PERFECTLY. It's visually STUNNING, really it just looks AMAZING, and the action sequences are BRILLIANT but always feel entirely necessary for the story, which is how you want to do it. Best of all, though, is THE PACING!!! This is such a quick, breezy film, it just barrels along at a spectacular clip, so it never drags. Mark Kermode is right, even though this is two and a quarter hours long it doesn't FEEL LIKE IT, it feels like a super-trim 90-minute movie.

And it ties everything off nice and neat, too. Sure, there are definitely possibilities for the future, going forward if they make more, but if the movie DOES tank then it's fine, because this really does do a great job about feeling self-contained and telling its own complete story, so if we DON'T get more it won't be too big a disappointment ...

#dungeons and dragons honor among thieves #the D&D movie #dungeons and dragons movie #chris pine #edgin darvis #michelle rodriguez #holga kilgore #justice smith #simon aumar #sophia lillis #doric the druid #regé jean page #xenk yendar #hugh grant #forge fitzwilliam #chloe coleman #kira darvis #daisy head #sofina the red wizard #reasons to love #reasons to love the D&D movie #2023 in movies

[the-martyrfication-of-the-matron]

Noi :)

Despite the fact that Noi is someone who, previously, had a lot of energy for stuff, getting his magic drained kinda drained his energy too. For a few hours, he's good, but he's tired for the rest of the day. He's able to join in when everyone goes on their little adventures, but he knocks out as soon as he's somewhere comfortable.

He enjoys bright colours and lights, but he mostly hangs around in comfortable clothes. He can't be bothered to waste energy on menial things, like pulling on jeans, or trying to figure out how to button up a shirt. He can wear some of Ava's stuff, since she usually gets her pyjamas a few sizes up.

His horns and tail are metallic looking, and i would lie and go 'oh there's different kinds of daemos' (which there are) to justify it but nah i just got bored and shaded them that way lmao. Gonna keep it bc it's funky.

Even though he's the weakest of the Daemos, he's still quite intimidating to normal human dudes.

He enjoys things that are typically 'unhealthy'. He lounges about, eating junk food, drinking fizzy drinks, etc. He also, in his limited awake time, enjoys himself some videogames.

He's the best out of the bunch at videogames, and so he got some weird amount of respect for that. He obliterated them all at COD and since, well, it is warfare of sorts, they had to admit defeat. The others even tried to make a 'if you didnt get a scar it wasnt a battle' excuse but he did end up getting a scar from asch rage quitting and throwing one of the controllers at his head. so, well, battle.

That said, He played three seconds against Ava and got absolutely destroyed. Ava promised not to tell the others.

In Asch!Harem context, he first got a little bit of a crush on Asch when Asch first took him in as a knight. It was a pity knighting, but he appreciated it none-the-less. It's kind of a childish crush, but he's still very fond of Asch. He's happy just being Asch's friend, though he, uh... hasn't quite gotten there yet.

Slightly offended that the Empress Dowager (Lady Grandma) treats him like he's adorable when she thirsts over the others, but he does like how nice she is to him. She can be a little harsh, but she's the *Empress Dowager*, he can accept it.

Mrs Oats was the first person who ever obviously perved on him, and he honestly didn't know how to feel about it.

He has a fascination with Koi fish. "Their names are like mine!!!"

His ears are kinda fucked up. they're less elfy and more just.... weird.

#oh yeah i can get into the whole empress dowager thing maybe. I kinda rearranged the Daemos monarchy a little #aphmau #aphverse #rewrite #aphblr #MID #My Inner Demons #Noi MID

[morgana-ren]

Do you have any mundane hc about Astarion? Like fave colour, what kind of books he likes, is he a morning person or does he like to lie in, favorite actual snack? Fave animal to snack on?

Obviously this after the trauma has started healing and he's learning about himself again!

Astarion is quieter and softer once he is free.

I feel like Astarion is actually a lot more gentle than he lets on. After years and years and years of faking and pretending and peacocking professionally, when he gets the opportunity to slow down, he might find he likes it. Being less snarky than he usually is sometimes. Being quiet when he could speak. Being more sincere and less defensive. Not all the time, mind you. That's still his personality. He is still absolutely Astarion. But maybe, sometimes, he just smiles softly, nods, and is content to sit in comfortable silence with the person he loves and the friends he has. He is content to just listen and watch and enjoy company.

He doesn't have to fill silence like he did before. He doesn't have to charm or seduce or manipulate. He doesn't have to be funny, or cutesy, or anything. He can just be him. And sometimes, maybe he just feels like existing and being quiet and taking in the environment. Maybe he just feels like listening. He wasn't allowed to before. He was always performing and bowing and playing a role. But now he can, and I feel like he'll sometimes exercise that. He still loves being the life of the party, but sometimes, on quiet nights, he enjoys just being.

Astarion picks up a creative pursuit for fun rather than necessity now that he can.

He has a lot of time to fill now. He can buy new clothes rather than just endlessly mending. But maybe he likes his embroidery. Maybe he continues on because he's good at it. Maybe he likes how impressed Tav gets at the deftness of his fingers and the heights of his skill. Now that he doesn't have to go out every night, he's got to find some new way to fill the time, so maybe he adds beautiful embroidery to their clothes for a flashy flourish and sews little love letters into the inside of Tav's clothing in gaudy golden threat and giggles like a naughty child when they finally see it days and days later.

He says he doesn't like reading, but he clearly likes poetry. Maybe he gives reading another shot because he can now. Maybe he feels like he has a lot to catch up on. Maybe he likes it and maybe he doesn't. Maybe he starts collecting poetry books and hoarding them like a dragon. Maybe he decides to try his hand at poetry as an outlet and is surprisingly talented at it-- or maybe he is stunningly bad but Tav still adores everything he writes because it's a piece of his heart.

He still gets up in the early mornings

He misses the sun. He misses it desperately. In the Underdark, there is no sun, and the time of day really doesn't matter, but out of sheer habit, he still gets up early and ready to go. A leftover from their days adventuring. He gets up with the sun for a very long time, even though he cannot see it.

It causes problems sometimes because his schedule is totally opposite to the other spawn. He is getting up when they are going to sleep initially. But after a while, the spawn that become very fond of him end up switching out and ending up awake when he is. He likes to pretend he can still walk the surface world any time he likes.

He still prefers human blood-- but morally... within reason

He fed on rats and bugs for so long that he will not go back. The blood is fetid and he has high standards now that he will absolutely make sure are met. He's not such a sweetheart that he's about to starve himself out to spare someone a vampiric encounter.

However, he will source it ethically when he can to spare himself the nagging. Feeding on slavers in the Underdark. Wayward drow causing a ruckus. Criminals operating underground. He tries a little bit to not kill innocents, mostly because he doesn't want Wyll coming after him and he doesn't want to upset his friends (he doesn't really care, but he knows they do.)

If he has Tav, he will feed on them and makes a point to learn a spell or buy an item that allows him to heal the bloodless bit. It's the least he can do. He will then joke that it means that he can feed twice tonight, right? Right?

They have to find a way to source an enormous amount of blood as ethically as they can (all the spawns roaming the Underdark now and they cannot have people catching wind and raiding in a fit) but truthfully, he still prefers it fresh. He still enjoys the hunt. It's still a part of him. He will 'spare' his victims when he can, but sometimes they have to die. You know how it is.

He reads smut books and develops kinks inadvertently

Just ridiculous books. Ones so raunchy and tacky it's almost funny. It starts as a joke initially because he gets his hands on one from a shipment they stole from a smuggling operation and reads it just to nitpick and make fun of it. He makes a very loud show of laughing and rolling his eyes and reading it out loud in a ridiculous voice.

But eventually, he finds it's a good way to reengage with sexuality in a safe, totally controlled way. He can read ridiculous smut books about vampires or suave, debonair playboys and laugh at them but also relate to them in the silliest way. Sometimes it's just bad writing and just for pure entertainment value, but other times, he finds it's not a bad way to examine his own feelings and view things in a way that is totally under his control with only his mind and body involved. It allows him to unpack things quietly and privately.

It's basically a completely safe way to engage with everything again after it's all said and done. He is trying to do his healing and this is just a playful, light way to do it. His life experiences will come to shape who he is, and he is finally discovering his own sexuality and needs. Maybe he develops some kinks and desires he didn't know he ever had through a book he's reading and sits there for a moment, face flushed with wine, eyes slightly wide and lips pursed. You know, the face you make when you figure things out. "Ah. Well. If I didn't know better, I'd say I enjoyed that."

He sings quietly

He only really does it when he is alone, and it's never really belting it out operatic singing, but more quiet and gentle singing. If you're lucky enough to hear him, you'd have to assume he's actually pretty good and seems to have good vocal control and an excellent voice, but it's hard to tell because he'll stop once you enter the room. He only does it when he is alone alone.

It's almost like he doesn't even realize he's doing it. They are songs from ages ago that you wouldn't even recognize if you were born in this era. Small, lost lullabies. Songs in Elvish he seems to just recall straight from memory though he couldn't tell you how. It's always low and soft and something so gentle it's hard to believe he's capable of it. He rarely speaks Elvish even when with other elves, but it's utterly flawless when he sings. Whether or not it is because he just remembers the song explicitly or because he actually remembers Elvish quite well is anyone's guess.

He likes painting

He wants to express himself. Sometimes with that kind of trauma, it's very hard to express yourself. You have to find ways to show the way you see the world around you. Things that go beyond words.

He picks it up out of sheer boredom. He finds he likes it. It's not an all consuming passion quite yet, but he likes artistic pursuits and he thinks this one is quite nice.

He paints the sun peaking over the streets of Baldur's Gate. The ocean at dawn in all its magnificent glory. The forests he remembers walking through during their adventures. A smoldering campfire beneath an orange sky. The wizard performers in the courtyard. Lots of colors sometimes, like he is reliving his life in the sun the only way he can. Occasionally draws a cheeky little building on fire like the firework shop they set ablaze. Sometimes they're funny, like Karlach dressed in a strongman jumpsuit while flexing and holding Wyll and Gale on her muscles. His sense of humor translates into his paintings.

Red and black when he is doing something deeper for himself. Memories he doesn't like to talk about. Experimenting as a sort of therapy. Sometimes they're more metaphorical and only make sense to him. Sometimes it's just chaotic, violent splashes and it ends up everywhere. Sometimes you can tell he got frustrated or didn't like what he felt because it will be half finished and then set away in frustration with the lines running so deep that it almost tore the canvas.

He isn't doing it for prestige but he will joke about the 'famous vampire painter' and how his paintings go for thousands of gold at auctions and line all the finest hallways in the finest houses. He'll laugh that he has an eternity to get good at painting, and he could become the best. You know, if he wanted to, of course. If he didn't get famous, it's because 'he didn't want to' and all of that.

When someone really means something, he will paint for them because expressing his love is still sort of difficult. Occasionally the old group will get a package that is more or less a rude and absurd painting he decided would be absolutely hilarious to send. That or poetry because that's much more intimate, but that is pretty much reserved for his lover-- and mostly only when he's drunk and cheeky.

#morgana and friends #astarion #astarion headcanons #Maybe not quite what you were looking for #I have a lot but it's so weird to say them #cause I have these weird ideas and it's like they're linked #I imagine astarion still has a great sense of humor #but he's also rediscovering his sensitive side #and he's basically overworked vampire dad to 7000 people now #so he has to LEARN to care #but these are the most mundane ones I can think of

[sometipsygnostalgic]

Video game console and case design

Today's hyperfixation is on the PLAYSTATION 5. Because I want one, but I really shouldn't buy one, so I am just looking up everything to do with games consoles and burning my brain out.

I used to be a proper xbox player, until I got my PC, then I never really touched by xbox again. I got a PS4 to play Persona 5 and since then it's been a blu ray player for my Adventure Time boxset, not much else. But the current gen - PS5, Series X - is arguably more powerful than my gaming PC, and I still have a lot of friends stuck on PS5, so I am considering investing in a unit.

Anyway is it me or did they really shit the bed with design in this generation?

Look at these chunky fuckers! They do not fit smoothly under your television at all. There is no detail or decoration breaking up their unnecessarily large faces, which makes them look bland and ugly. They look like they're made of cheap plastic, with the two controllers being the highest quality thing about them. I can attest the xbox controller is unbeatable, but playstation really made their shot this generation. A shame I can never get used to the dualshock joystick positioning.

The Series S and the PS5 Slim are almost NO improvement on the base designs.

For some reason they made the Series S look like a speaker???

The new PS5 slim FINALLY has a line across that massive faceplate, but the half matte half glossed finish is not doing it any favours. I think it would've looked much better if, for example, the matte and gloss plates were different colours. Like black and white! It also has an even MORE out of place disc drive, which I think is part of Sony's agenda to go digital only, and the two tiny "feet" for its horizontal positioning are pathetic! Personally I like this more than the original but not significantly, disappointing since I was really looking forward to it.

I want you to compare these nasties to the previous generation - the PS4 and the XBOX One.

....Now, what's hilarious about this image is the consoles look ALMOST IDENTICAL from this angle. And, I guess, that would be why Sony and Microsoft decided to make such a departure with the space heater PS5 and the fridge Series X.

But they both look very premium and advanced, and they fit very nicely in your living room.

The companies tried to look a bit more distinguished in their followup versions in the previous gen too. The white PS4 Pro looks a lot closer to PS5 with its quirkiness, but without the atrocious shiny plastic. Sony tended to add or remove a layer whenever they altered the PS4, I wonder what they would look like all stacked on top of each other.

It's not just the games console designs that suffer - Look at the game cases! I know that the companies want to incentivise you to go digital, but Xbox Series X cases are just awful.

So if you're confused - You should be!!! Microsoft have two kinds of case for the Series X. One of them is the EXACT SAME CASE as Xbox One, but with Series X printed on the front. The second newer version foregoes the sexy Xbox logo entirely and just has Xbox Series X printed in some default font. Awful awful awful.

Playstation is doing better, but barely.

They are reusing PS4 cases with a different print on them. It doesn't look as horrible as Xbox's, and it at least has a different colour on the logo, but damn, the jump between PS3/360 and PS4/One was really impressive, and now they've stopped bothering because they want everyone to go digital. If your game cases look like shit, why bother with physical?

I want to contrast with physical media kings Nintendo, who did an outstanding job in 2017 with designing the case for the Nintendo Switch.

These bad boys are mine. They're super thin, easy to stack, decent quality, and F U N. The red colour pallette makes them pop out. You can see one from across the store and go, "damn, that's a Nintendo Switch game".

I just want a thousand of them.

I would say a disadvantage, especially compared to the Gamecube games next to them, and even compared to 3ds, is that you can't tell what game you're looking at without going right up to them. These cases are TOO uniform, and really tiny, so i have to triple check I am picking up Xenoblade Chronicles 3 and not Tony Hawk Pro Skater. Meanwhile you can tell exactly what Gamecube games I have by colour pallette alone. Like, you can instantly tell that's Windwaker.

The switch in general is a very fun looking games console, much nicer looking than its predecessor the Wii U, though I'm not sure how I feel about the white of the OLED. But every time I see a Switch Lite in stores, even though I know it's worse than my Switch, I want to buy one. It just looks so FUUUUUN.

And finally a special mention to the 3DS and its games case. The console itself was pretty stylish, if... rudimentary for its release period, but the games cases are high quality and almost make me want to have 3ds games just so I can have the cases.

#nintendo #xbox #playstation #ps5 #series x #ps4 #xbone #nintendo switch #3ds #gaming

[angelst4re]

hey lovely could you do an jace nsfw alphabet? i dont think ive seen one for him. i love your writing your the best! ❤️

of course!!! i remember seeing one a while ago, i'm not sure where it's gone!! but of course i had to do it anyway cos i love these!! :)

Jace (Wayland? Herondale? Morgenstern? Lightwood??) NSFW Alphabet!

warnings: NSFW!! it's in the name!!

notes: sorry for not posting much lately, i've been too busy learning how to edit because I'VE MADE A JAMIE TIKTOK!!! i haven't posted anything yet but if you want to follow me this is my account :) anyways...

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He usually doesn’t care for it, but you’re the exception. He would make sure he takes care of you in every way he can, especially if he has been rough with you. He’d clean you up before he brings you a glass of water and the two of you would either just cuddle on his bed or he would run a bath for you. In the beginning of your relationship, he wasn’t sure what aftercare was really about, or how it worked, but he knew he wanted to make sure you were okay after sex, and he knew he didn’t want you to leave as soon as you had both finished. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favourite body part of his own is definitely his hands. I mean come on, they’re beautiful. Although they’d carry many scars from fights and other marks, he loved the way they looked on your body, especially as his hands are rather big. Of course he’d love to see his hands caressing your hips, pulling you closer to him, and around your neck, but he also just loved the way it looked when you would hold hands, and when he could compare your hand sizes and he would make fun of how small yours looked in comparison to his. 

His favourite body part of yours… he would say your face and argue about how that it is technically a part of your body. He loves placing kisses on your cheeks, your forehead, your nose and especially your lips. He loves the colour of your eyes and how they seem to darken when he knows you’re needy. But if he had to choose an actual body part he would say your neck as he loves to leave bruises there with his mouth and he very much enjoys the sounds you make when he finds that one particular spot. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He loves to cum inside you, you could go as far as saying he perhaps has a breeding kink? But he’s never really thought that far ahead. He just loves the thought of you being full up with him in as many ways as possible, knowing that even when he’s not fucking you, part of him is still inside you. This also applies to when you give him blowjobs, most of the time he makes sure you’ve swallowed every last drop, unless he’s feeling a bit more adventurous, which then he’d cum on your face. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I don’t know if it’s really a dirty secret but he liked you for a while before the two of you began dating, and he once accidentally walked into you in the shower. It took everything in him to hold back and walk away, he wanted to wait for you to get out, tell you how he felt and fuck you so hard youd forget your name. But he held back another week, but he didn’t leave your room without a pair of your underwear. After that night, he spent the rest of the week hooking up with random girls and imagining they were you as he fucked them, but no matter how hard he tried, he knew they just weren’t you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

OH HE IS EXPERIENCED AND YOU KNOW IT!!! He knows exactly what to do in the bedroom, and he knows exactly what you like and what brings you to the edge quicker than you could say his name. Whenever you want to try something new in the bedroom, it’s likely that he’s already familiar with it. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He doesn’t like to admit it as it makes him seem “too vanilla” but he loves missionary with you. He loves watching your face as he fucks you and your eyes roll back. He loves being able to run his hands over your body and lift your hips up to his. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It can go both ways, for example if he’s had a bad day he’d rather be more serious in the moment, but if you two had just come home from a party and you were both drunk, there would be a lot more giggling involved. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He likes to keep it clean and tidy down there, shaving every couple of weeks as he prefers how it looks. Although, if he weren't to shave the hair he grows is quite light and so isn’t very noticeable when it begins to grow out. 

And when it comes to you, he believes it’s your body and your choice. Hair is natural, and nothing to be ashamed of! 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Oh Jace is such a romantic when it comes to you. He’ll hold you close as he fucks you and whisper things in your ear, telling you how beautiful you are and how he’s never loved someone as much as he loves you. But this can also change when you want him to be rough, he can be very dominant, shoving your face into the pillows, calling you degrading names that makes you even wetter than he imagined possible. But deep down, he’s a romantic. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’d masturbate almost every night before you and him got together. Now, he doesn’t really have a need to. But sometimes when you’re away or when he’s in the shower and thinking about you, he’ll get off to the thought of you. Sometimes when he’s finished he’d feel guilty for doing this, but in the moment he’s too horny to even think straight. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Should I make a list? I’ll make a list. 

Edging

Orgasm control

Hair pulling

Choking and breath play

Handcuffs 

Spanking 

Breeding 

Daddy kink 

Cockwarming 

Thigh riding 

Spitting

Degrading

I could go on and on about this but I’ll stop here. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His bedroom, your bedroom and the bathroom. He likes to know you’re comfortable and there’s not a risk of being caught. He doesn’t like the thought of anyone seeing you the way he sees you, he doesn't want anyone hearing the noises you make as they’re all for him! He even made you rush back to his room from the greenhouse when you made him hard from sitting on his lap. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

The way you look at him when you’re needy. He would have to hold back from taking you over the kitchen table if you were to give him that look during breakfast. But also when you would surprise him with new lingerie. When you walk from your room to his in your robe with nothing but a lingerie set on underneath… prepare to not be able to walk in the morning. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

The thought of having a threesome isn’t something he likes. As I’ve mentioned, whilst dating Jace you are his and only his. He doesn’t like the thought of another man touching your body, and equally you don’t like the thought of Jace fucking anyone else. So that’s something that’s off the table, at least for the moment. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

HE LOVES TO GIVE ORAL. Jace is the king of giving head. He knows exactly what to do and just how you like it. He could spend the rest of his life between your thighs, quite happily. Even if neither of you have the time or the energy for sex, he will still go down on you like a starving man. He loves to give <3

He also loves receiving, as any guy would. He loves when you drop to your knees in front of him and take him down your throat. However, he will always prefer to give. What a gentleman. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It all depends on the mood and the moment. If you had a heated argument and you ended up pushed against the wall with his tongue down your throat then you’d expect it to be rough and fast. But if you’d just come home from a date then he’d carry you to the bed, take his time with you and show you how much you really mean to him. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If either of you need to do it, then you need to do it! However, it doesn’t happen very often as he’d rather take his time. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

If you’re comfortable with it! He doesn’t want to put you in a situation where you don’t feel safe or comfortable

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Oh he could last all night and all day if you asked him to. He’s trained all his life so he has stamina, and he definitely shows it off in the bedroom. You’d be a drooling wreck beneath him before he’s even begun to sweat. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t own any, but he surprised you with a vibrator for your birthday one year and he loves to use it on you, or to watch you use it on yourself. He would happily experiment with more if you were to ask him. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves to tease. He’d place his hand on your thigh at the most inconvenient times and begin to move it upwards. You’d swat him away but it would only encourage him to tease you more. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not very loud, but he’ll definitely moan your name and let out low groans as his hips roll against yours. He tries to keep quiet so the others don't hear him but if you're both home alone then... ;)

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Jace lost his virginity in the greenhouse with a girl he only dated for a few days. He had been very cocky and told her he’d fucked loads of girls before and then when it finally came to the act he wasn’t too sure what to do and when she left he was feeling quite embarrassed, but thankfully she ended up moving away so he never had to see her again. He didn’t have sex for 6 months after that, and he even read a few books on how to improve in the bedroom, as he never wanted to feel that same shame again (and he never did!)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s definitely hiding at least 7 inches down there, his cock would be the biggest you’ve taken and it’s very satisfying ;)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He’s horny all the damn time. You could literally just breathe and he’d be turned on. He’s always had access to sex whenever he wanted it, being as stunningly attractive as he is, and girls would throw themselves at him so he’s never really had to suppress the feelings before and control himself until he met you. You can even tell when he has to hold himself back from crashing his lips into yours and taking you on the bathroom sink. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He could fall asleep quite quickly after he finishes, but he makes sure you’re looked after first. When he’s certain that you’re happy and comfortable, he can fall asleep with you in his arms <3

#jamie campbell bower #jace wayland smut #jace herondale smut #jamie campbell bower smut #jamie bower #jamie bower x reader #jamie campbell bower x reader #jace wayland #jace herondale #city of bones #the mortal instruments #jamie bower smut #jace morgenstern

[creampill]

hi, hello, i'd love to see romantic obsessed narrator please.

hello????

uh hi welcome to my inbox. sorry I kind of lost my mind seeing you hop in here less than a minute after I reblogged your post while fangirling over your writing.

well, I’ll take a chance to be grossly self-indulgent any day. here’s your meal!

Romantic Obsessed Narrator/Reader HCs

- if you’ve read soup’s writing on the platonic version of this subject, then you know the main vibe that narry gives off when he’s in this kind of headspace

- he will do anything to keep your attention. Whatever it takes.

- he will keep making new content for as long as he needs too- he will read off different scripts, write and rewrite new ones, reward every single incremental decision you make to keep you interested.

- a romantic narry wouldn’t want to make you scared of him though. He wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable or confused- maybe then you’d leave him. He’d never have a chance to woo you if you had a grudge against him.

- so he tries not to make it too obvious how much he’s tailoring the experience of the game to you. He’ll try to make it all fit in seamlessly with the rest of the games shenanigans.

- you, the player, don’t really see anything odd at the start. The game is so layered with secrets you’re not really shocked that you’ve found things you haven’t heard about before. That’s just how the game is.

- his obsession is the kind that manifests as a collection, almost hoarding: whatever information he learns about you, he cherishes.

- for the sake of this concept, let’s say you have some kind of mic attached to the game. Something that transmits your voice, your reactions- the thing that he fell in love with in the first place.

- something about your personality just… enraptured him. he wants to know more about you. He wants to know everything about you. Every piece of information, he keeps.

- He has an incredibly strong memory, but he knows how fragile the mind can be (r.e; the confusion ending), so he writes down what he knows about you. He writes all the tiny details down, everything he learns, every itty bitty thing.

- your favourite colour? The way you laugh? Your birthday you mentioned offhandedly? The exact times and dates you log into the game?

- everything. He keeps everything. In excruciating detail, too- his fanciful and descriptive writing style translates over to this too. He’s filled pages and pages with his fawning over you.

- these details also leak into the game, personalising it to you. Other endings pop up in your favourite genres; the adventure line changes colour to your favourite; the outside in the freedom ending becomes more and more similar to your childhood home.

- he also uses this information to make you more attracted to him.

- if it’s his voice that gets you (like it does the rest of us)? Then maybe he just happens to sit a bit closer to his microphone. Maybe he purrs his lines a little sweeter or dips his voice lower based on your reactions. Maybe he complements you more than normal- maybe he teases you relentlessly. Whatever makes you flustered is what he strives for.

- if it’s his silly dorky humour and endearing dialogue? Prepare for more jokes. Stupider ones. And a whole lot more dialogue for every possible choice and situation- Whatever made you laugh the hardest.

- and if it’s his stories? His prose, his talent as a creative? He will write for you. He will craft as many beautiful and unique and detailed routes as you want. He will act his ass off for you, moving you from laughter to tears, if that’s what makes you happy.

- it’s hard for him to contain how much he loves you sometimes.

- every time you leave, his heart breaks. He knows you have a life outside of the game- but he just wishes he could be part of that, too.

- when you haven’t played for a while, he has to hold himself back from cheering aloud when you load back in.

- he has to hold back the joy in his voice when you get excited, trying so hard not to laugh along with you. You were just so infectious- it was almost impossible to stop himself.

- but the narrator would defy impossible for you.

- because he loves you. And that means doing whatever would make you happy. Even if it’s impossible.

#asks #reader insert #x reader #narrator x reader #tsp #tsp narrator x reader #tspud #tspud narrator #tspud narrator x reader #YEAH I WROTE A LOT TEEHEE #I’m so normal ❤️

[woso-dreamzzz]

Siblings

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: There's a baby at your house

You're all waiting around for Pernille's friend when you ask.

He's meant to be dropping off his baby because of some emergency with his wife's mum. It had all been so unexpected but as the only one in the friend group who had hands-on experience with a baby before, Pernille was happy to volunteer.

He's assured her that it would only be for a few hours anyway while they sorted things out so she didn't worry much.

You're sitting at the coffee table with a sandwich for lunch as a show Magda's watching plays aimlessly in the background.

"Momma," You say suddenly," Why have you got a sister?"

The question is completely out of nowhere and a little amusing at how bluntly you say it.

Pernille laughs. "Well, your grandparents wanted more than just one child so they had me and Louise."

You think for a moment. "And that's why Morsa has a sister too?"

"Yes, princesse, that's why Morsa has a sister too."

That stumps you a little bit and the doorbell rings before you can ask any more questions.

Momma's friend comes running in, thanking her profusely before handing her the baby boy in a carrier. He leaves out the door as quickly as he came.

Momma coos over the baby and you come over to investigate.

He's kind of ugly, with wispy blonde hair on top of his head. His face is all wrinkly and strange. His expression scrunches up when he sees you and you decide that you don't like him.

Momma and Morsa seem to though and you don't like that much either.

This baby takes up a lot of their time.

You don't fully understand what's so interesting about him as you sit at the table and colour. You wonder, briefly, if this is Momma and Morsa practising.

They both have siblings. You wonder if they need to practice with this new baby because they forgot how to look after one now that you've a big girl.

The thought of another little girl (or boy) in the house makes your stomach feel all knotty and you can't quite work out why.

"Momma," You say, tugging on her shirt," Up!"

Pernille picks you up instantly but frowns. You haven't asked to be picked up like that for a while now. You hadn't done that in months and the last time was only because you had a little cough and wanted a cuddle at training.

You bump your head against her shoulder and wrap your arms around her next, squeezing as tightly as you can.

Pernille's frown deepens and she tests your temperature with the back of her hand.

There's nothing out of the ordinary.

"Are you feeling alright, princesse?"

You don't answer, just rest your head back on her shoulder. It's a little difficult to help Magda take care of the baby with you surgically attached. You refuse to be put down.

If Pernille even gives a second of attention to her friend's child, you whine and tug at her, wanting all of her attention on you all the time.

You ignore the baby completely even as Magda tries to introduce you. You don't want to look at his stupid wrinkly face nor let him play with your toys.

You don't want him being held by your Morsa either but you can't be in two places at once and being held by Morsa means that Momma's arms are open for the boy to sit in and you don't want that either.

"No, Momma," You say when she tries to put you down.

"I have to go to the toilet, princesse," Momma says," I can't hold you while I do that."

You accept that as true but you trail her to the toilet and get her to pick you up immediately after she's done so she can't pick up the baby.

It's a long day for you, constantly making sure that your mothers remember that they still have you and should pay you some attention. You get given a brief respite when the baby goes to sleep and wedge yourself firmly between Momma and Morsa on the sofa.

You kind of want a nap too but you don't want to waste this time when their attentions are on you so you just sit, holding their hands in silence.

You've never been more happy in your life to see that baby go home with Momma's friend from earlier.

"What was up with you today, huh?" Morsa asks as she and Momma tuck you into bed that night.

You pull a face. "There was a baby."

"There was. Did that upset you?"

You shake your head. "I'm a big girl. I don't get upset."

Momma laughs as she perches on the other side of your bed. "Big girls can get upset too. Big girl just explain why they're feeling upset."

You're a big girl so you're going to do that. "Were you practicing with Momma's friend's baby?"

"Practicing for what?"

"For when I get a sibling like your two have," You say," Do I have to have a sibling?"

Morsa's brows draw together. "Do you want one? A sibling?"

You shake your head and pout. "Just want you and Momma."

"Are you sure?" Morsa prods," A sibling can be fun to grow up with. You get to have someone to play with all the time."

"I play with Jessie and Niamh all the time," You reply," Don't need a little brother or sister."

Momma laughs as she gives you a goodnight kiss. "I think," She says," That our family is already the perfect size."

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

[stripetkattelalala54-gf]

Rainbow Madness

Summary: While riding a roller coaster, Mario gets a little bit too much reminded of a certain Rainbow Road incident. Takes place sometime after the movie.

TW: Panic attack

Characters: Mario, Luigi, Mia, Pio, Tony, Arthur, Sofia (Mario and Luigi's little niece)

“I wanna go on that one!”, Sofia exclaimed excitedly, bouncing on her feet as she pointed to a massive roller coaster that extended high into the sky towering over all the other roller coasters that were nearby. It was her 10th birthday so the whole family had agreed to do something a little bit more special than usual to celebrate it.

Since they all knew how much she loved the Mushroom Kingdom ever since Mario and Luigi took her and the rest of the family there to show them around and how much she loved amusement parks, they agreed that combining these two things together would make a good birthday present for her.

So, Mario had asked Peach if amusement parks existed in the Mushroom Kingdom. Peach had looked at him confused at first but after explaining the concept, her face lit up and she informed him that the Mushroom Kingdom indeed had something like an amusement park albeit under a different name.

Now it was him, Luigi, Uncle Arthur, Uncle Tony, mom, dad, and Sofia walking through the FunMush park. They played various games, went on different rides, and tried food which they had never heard of before. It was nice and everyone was having fun. Aunt Marie hadn’t been able to come with them as she had fallen sick. Sofia was sad at first that her mother couldn’t come with them, but that sadness vanished as soon as they set foot in the FunMush park.

Sofia was still bouncing on her feet as she looked at them excitingly.

“Sure, thing sweety we can go on that one”, Uncle Arthur said, laughing. “Who’s coming with us?”

“As if you even have to ask”, Uncle Tony responded with a smirk. “Mario, Luigi you coming too?”

“Of course”, Luigi said without hesitation. Just like Marilyn, Mario could see the excitement radiating off his brother. Despite of everything that Luigi was afraid of, his brother loved roller coasters. Mario normally enjoyed them too but today he couldn’t help but feel uneasy whenever they went on one. Up to that point, all the roller coasters had been relatively small. Still, memories of the Rainbow Road fiasco resurfaced whenever he found himself on one of those rides, but it was manageable.  

Now looking at this big roller coaster that was a few feet away from them, made the knot in his stomach that had been there ever since the first ride he went on today, grow even more. It absolutely didn’t help that the roller coaster was very bright and colourful itself.

Mario swallowed thickly but immediately recovered when he saw his whole family staring at him as they still waited for an answer from him. He forced himself to smile. “Yeah, sure I’m coming too.”

It was probably going to be fine anyway. It was only a roller coaster. He would survive a ride on this even if it made him uncomfortable. He never told his family about the Rainbow Roadpart of his adventure not even Luigi. It was a part of his journey that he’d rather forget, the feeling of terror when the explosion threw him off the road and the feeling of hopelessness and despair when he and DK were swallowed by that eel was not something he was eager to voice out loud.

Besides it was probably nothing in comparison to what his brother had to endure during those three days. His family didn’t need to worry about him too when Luigi was already clearly struggling because of everything that happened. It was fine. He could deal with it himself. He pointedly ignored the voice that told him that he hadn’t slept a full night since he came back because he had nightmares about either the Rainbow Road incident, Luigi dying or Bowser beating him up or some combinations of those scenarios that way too often involved that Luigi somehow got hurt or died because he was unable to protect him. Or that he once almost had a panic attack when there had been a sudden loud noise. Or that one time when Luigi came back home a bit later than he’d said he would. Or-

“Mia, Pio are you coming as well?” Uncle Arthur asked, pulling Mario out of his racing thoughts. “I think we rather sit this one out”, his mom said with a smile. “But you go and have fun. We’ll be waiting just right next by the exit of the ride.”

“Well then let’s go!”, Uncle Arthur cheered. Sofia let out a happy squeak before she was running off on her own. Uncle Arthur laughed following her right behind. “C’mon”, Uncle Tony waved, signalling for Mario and Luigi to follow too.

They made their way through the crowd and before Mario knew it, they were right in front of the roller coaster. Uncle Arthur and Sofia were already standing in line waving them over as soon as they saw them.

Only now that they were right in front of the roller coaster, made Mario realize just how big it was; It was towering over them, its twists and turns extending high into the sky and the colours were dizzyingly bright. It made his heart beat faster but not in a good way.

Mario’s heart felt like it would stop when he got a look of the name of the roller coaster. “Rainbow Madness” was written in the same bright colours as the roller coaster was itself. This had to be a joke. Because of course the name would have a remarkable resemblance to the thing he absolutely didn’t want to think about. Just perfect. It did not help with his growing uneasiness at all.

The nearer it was their turn for the ride, the worse it got. He clapped his fingers together in a nervous manner and he could feel a cold sweat forming on his brows.

His uneasiness must’ve been more visible than he thought because Luigi suddenly nudged him gently into his side. “You okay?”, he asked in a concerned tone but silent enough so that others wouldn’t hear him. “I’m fine”, he waved his brother off. Luigi didn’t seem to be convinced. “Are you sure? You’re really tense”, he pressed again. “Yeah, of course”, Mario smiled this time in the hopes that it was enough to convince his brother that he was fine.

Luigi looked like he wanted to say something more but before he could do it, the line cleared up and it was their turn.

Mario climbed into the seat next to Luigi while Sofia and Uncle Arthur took a seat together behind them and Uncle Tony a seat behind those two. Then the safety harness clicked into place. His heart started to race even more now that he knew that there was no going back. It was okay. It was only a roller coaster nothing bad would happen while riding it, he told himself.

The roller coaster suddenly gave a jolt, and before Mario knew it, the ride began its way up the steep descent. His breathing quickened even though he tried to remain calm. It was okay, he told himself over and over again. It was only barely working. He gripped the safety harness tighter as the ride went up higher and higher. This had been a bad idea. He should’ve just stayed down and made up some excuse why he wasn’t coming on the ride. Just as they were about to reach the peak of the ride, a loud bang echoed through the park and Mario’s heart dropped and his breath got caught in his throat.

And then he was falling. His ears were ringing, he couldn’t hear anything. The explosion had been deafening. He was falling. He was going to die. He was going to die without being able to safe his brother. Luigi was going to die because of him. Their family would never know what happened to them. They would never know it was his fault.

He was falling and he was going to die and there was nothing that he could do about it and why was it so hard to breathe and oh god he was still falling, was this never going to end-

“Mario!”

Mario gasped for air as his surroundings came vaguely back into focus. He was on a roller coaster that was moving at a breakneck speed was the first thing he realized. The second thing, he realized was that he wasn’t breathing right. He was choking and he could barely get enough air in.

It’s gonna be okay, just hang on!”, a voice shouted next to him, but Mario could barely hear it over his own heartbeat. The roller coaster took its twists and turns, and Mario could do nothing more than to just hold on.  

He squeezed his eyes shut, clutching the safety bar of the roller coaster as if it was a lifeline. His breathing was still too fast, making it hard to get enough air into his lungs. Dizziness was washing over him, and he felt like he would pass out at any moment.

Suddenly the roller coaster came to a screeching halt, and everything stopped. Somebody took him by the arm, nudging him to stand up but his legs felt like jelly. They only supported him for a few steps, and he would have collapsed on the ground if it hadn’t been for the person’s firm grip on him.

He was being led away a few steps before he was being gently lowered down to the floor. Everything was spinning, his chest felt like it was too tight making it impossible to get enough air in. His hands gripped at his chest, pulling at his shirt. He needed it off, he needed room to breathe, he needed-

A hand touched his shoulder shortly, but it was enough to make him flinch.

“Hey”, the voice suddenly spoke again. “Hey breathe with me. Just follow my lead.”

“In. Hold it. Out.”

Mario tried desperately to do as he was told, but the air just wouldn’t fill his lungs. He coughed and choked.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, try again.”

“In.” Mario took a shaky breath in. “Hold it.” He held it for a few seconds. “Out.” Mario breathed out again.

“Good, very good. Try again.”

Mario did. He did it again and again until he was finally able to breathe normally.

That was when his surroundings finally came back into focus. Luigi was kneeling only a few inches in front of him, concern and fear clearly written over his face.

A little bit more behind standing, were Uncle Tony, Uncle Arthur, his parents and Sofia. They had the same concerned expression while Sofia looked scared, clutching Uncle Arthur’s hand. Oh. Oh no.

“You back with us bro?”, Luigi asked in a soft tone.

Giving a shaky nod was all that Mario was capable of. His throat felt like it was on fire making it impossible to form any words. He felt completely exhausted. It was as if all his energy just got sucked out.

Mario could hear footsteps and then his mom was kneeling right in front of him too. She put her hand on his cheek which made him instinctively lean into it. He felt like he could fall asleep right there.

“What happened tesoro? Are you okay?”, his mom’ s concerned voice brought him out of his haziness. She gave him the same worried look as Luigi.

Mario opened his mouth to give a respond, but his throat still hurt too much to speak. And if he was being honest with himself, what would he even say? He didn’t want to tell what actually happened. He would only ruin Sofia’s birthday even more than he already had, and he would make his family unnecessarily worry about something that he shouldn’t even be struggling with. But he was also physically and emotionally too exhausted to come up with a lie.

“Mario?”

His mom looked even more worried than before which made Mario realize that he must have stayed silent for a bit too long. He gave her a smile and a quick thumbs up to signal her that everything was fine, but it was clear that she and Luigi didn’t believe him.

“Mario-“, Luigi started this time but Mario interrupted him.

“I’m fine”, Mario pressed the words out. It hurt but it was necessary to convince Luigi and his mom that he was fine enough to continue because he really didn’t want to ruin Sofia’s birthday completely and he certainly didn’t want to talk about anything that happened back there.

Luigi and his mom still didn’t look convinced, but they seemed to understand that Mario wouldn’t talk, so they didn’t press any further.

“Alright. Then let’s go back to the others”, his mom said. She gave his shoulder one last comforting squeeze before she stood up.

Luigi got up from his kneeling position too, extending a hand towards him to help him stand up as well. Mario gratefully took it. His legs still felt wobbly, but it wasn’t as bad as it was before. Together they walked to where Uncle Tony, Uncle Arthur, Sofia and his dad were standing.

They all looked worried but before anybody could say anything, his mom spoke up: “Everything’s okay now.” She gave them a pointed look that clearly said, “no asking questions” and Mario was glad for that. Then she turned to Sofia with a smile. “Say, Sofia what do you want to do next?” At that Sofia immediately brightened up as she pointed to the next thing she wanted to do.

The rest of the family joined and so the day continued. Mario tried to be joyful during the whole time, forcing himself to smile and laugh whenever Sofia pulled him and the rest of the family into new games to try out.

While he knew that Luigi and his mom could probably look right through him as they kept a close eye on him, he hoped that at least the others wouldn’t be able to. Though from time to time he could see that even his father gave him a concerned look, so it didn’t seem that he was doing a convincing job. He was so tired. All he wanted to do was lay down in a bed and sleep forever.

Finally, the day came slowly to an end. The sun had already begun to sink behind the horizon as they went back home. Since Aunt Marie was sick, it was his mom who took over with cooking. She prepared spaghetti with meatballs as Sofia had wished for her birthday.

After dinner there was cake that Aunt Marie had already baked the day before. Sofia was still in high spirits even though it was starting to get late and even though they spent the whole day at the FunMush park.

Mario though for his part felt very tired. Not having been able to sleep through a whole night, either because of his own or Luigi’s nightmares, since he was back plus the panic attack from today, really made the exhaustion catch up with him for good. So not long after the cake but also not too short to seem unpolite, Mario excused himself.

Nobody said anything against it, not even Uncle Arthur or Uncle Tony teased him about getting to bed ‘quite early for someone his age’, which probably meant that he must’ve looked as bad as he felt. They all just wished him a good night and then Mario was finally alone in his and Luigi’s room.  

He put on his pyjamas, brushed his teeth, and crawled under his bed sheets, ready to just fall asleep and forget everything that happened today when the door to the room opened. Mario didn’t even need to open his eyes to know that it was Luigi.

The light was turned on, footsteps could be heard before he felt the bed dip beside him. A hand touched his shoulder.

“Hey”, Luigi began in a soft tone. There was a longer pause before he continued, seemingly needing to gather his thoughts first. “You- This afternoon on that roller coaster- you really freaked out there. It really scared me too. What happened? I’ve never seen you like this.”

Mario took a few seconds before he finally turned around to face his brother. There was nothing but concern written over his face. He knew he couldn’t lie. He was in no state to pretend that everything was fine, and Luigi already knew that something was wrong. But he also really didn't want to talk about it. He didn’t need Luigi to worry about additional things when he already had enough to deal with himself.

But then again, he knew that he would need to talk about it at some point because he knew that Luigi would absolutely worry if he didn’t talk about it. Mario sighed. Better get it over with now.

Mario sat up so that he was able to face his brother.

“I guess”, he started, “this roller coaster just reminded me of the whole Rainbow Road fiasco.”

“Cranky- DK’s father- suggested using karts to quickly return to the Mushroom Kingdom via a shortcut so that we could ambush Bowser and his troop during their attack”, Mario explained. “The shortcut was a rainbow road. Literally. It was a rainbow that served as a road. It was unbelievable.”

Mario paused and took moment to gather his thoughts. He didn’t know why it was so hard to form into words what happened back there. Still, he forced himself to continue.

“So”, Mario went on, “it turns out that Bowser knew we were going that route and his troop ambushed us instead. The whole chase was crazy. It kinda felt like being on a roller coaster.”

Mario took a deep breath.

“We did almost manage to escape them. But then a blue-shelled koopa flew towards us and exploded right on me and DK. I don’t know how, and I honestly try not to think about it”, he chuckled but there was no humour to it. “Anyway, the road broke and we were falling. I thought I was gonna- but then we hit the water. Which was good I guess until we were eaten by a gigantic eel.”

Not wanting to go into more detail, Mario just carried on. “But of course we made it out and yeah. That was that.” Not really knowing what to say anymore, he stopped talking.

“Whoa.” Was all that Luigi said.

“But it’s okay, I’m fine-“

“No you’re not”, interrupted Luigi. “Are you even listening to yourself? You had a panic attack today because of what experienced on that rainbow road. You are clearly not fine.” There was no anger in Luigi’s voice. It was like he was just stating a fact.

Mario’s first instinct was to protest that he was fine, but he paused. He did have frequently nightmares about it even though it was not the only event he had nightmares about. The panic attack today didn’t make things better. He was tired. He was so so tired.

Luigi took gently his hands into his. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you were struggling this much. I-“

“No, Luigi, no!” Mario couldn’t help but stop Luigi right there. “It’s not your fault, you weren’t even supposed to know. You have enough struggles yourself you don’t need to be burdened with mine.”

Luigi gave him a sad look.

“We can take care of each other”, he said. “You don’t always have to be strong you know. I’m here for you too just like you are for me.”

Before Mario knew it, he started trembling. Everything was just too much. A lump started to form in his throat and his eyes started to burn. He swallowed but the lump didn’t go away.

Warm arms enveloped him. He was being pulled close until Mario was buried into Luigi’s chest. The trembling intensified, and before he could stop it, the tears started to trail down his face. A hand started to stroke through his hair while Mario tried to focus on Luigi’s heartbeat to help get a hold of himself. It wasn’t working.

His body shook with his sobs, so he gave up and just let it go through the motions. Luigi held him the whole time, never once letting go.

When he finally managed to get a hold of himself, he felt even more tired which he didn’t think was possible. Mario didn’t have the strength to protest when Luigi laid him down and covered him with a blanket.

“Sleep. I think you really need it”, was the last thing he heard before he fell asleep.

Later that night, he awoke again from a nightmare. He shot up, trembling and shaking. It was hard to breathe, his throat was on fire like he was drowning. Like he was back in that cold water waiting to die, knowing Luigi would die too because he wouldn’t be able to save him-

And then warm arms were suddenly around him, holding him close very similar just like a few hours ago. “You’re okay”, Luigi said as he soothingly rubbed his back.

Mario didn’t say anything, he was just clinging to him until he was able to calm down. He vaguely realized that Luigi must have anticipated that there was a chance that he would be having a nightmare tonight. Mario had gotten used to wake up quietly after a nightmare so he wouldn’t wake up his brother and tonight hadn’t been any different.

So, either Luigi stayed up the whole time or he was just sleeping very lightly which often happened when he was worried about something. It was probably the latter one.

Finally, after who knows how long, Mario managed to calm down again. Still, he didn’t want to let go. He wasn’t ready to lose Luigi’s comforting touch just yet. He didn't… he didn’t want to sleep alone. He also didn’t want to voice all of these things because he didn’t want to inconvenient Luigi any further than he already had. Apparently, it wasn’t even necessary.

As if Luigi could read his mind, he took Mario by the hand and guided him over to his bed. No words were spoken, and they didn’t need to. Luigi gently laid them both down on the bed in a way that Mario was now laying on Luigi’s chest with arms wrapped protectively around him.

It was a weird position to be in. Normally Mario was the one who held Luigi like this. Arms wrapped protectively around him, letting his brother know that he was always there for him, giving him comfort and a sense of being protected. Being the one who was receiving this kind of hug now was definitively something he was not used to.

It felt good though. It felt good to be able to be vulnerable and knowing that somebody was there to hold you through it.

Mario closed his eyes and let sleep wash over him.

#smb #mario #luigi #super mario bros #super mario bros movie #the super mario bros #super mario #braincellfic #slightly nervous about posting this but I've been working on this way too long so here we go #tw panic attack

[hopepetal]

Welcome to 5llsmp, an experimental hardcore series– gets smacked

Right! Us Tumblr folk decided to get together and play some good ol' fashioned third life! Just with four lives. And a Boogeyman. But no life trade function.

The colour system is as follows.

Four lives- dark blue 💙

Three lives- green 💚

Two lives- yellow 💛

One life- red ♥️

Every time after we have a session, the players send me summaries of what happened, and I write it all up in an official statement! Some people recorded, so be on the lookout for little clips here and there! The official tag for this smp is #5llsmp, so check that out for the artwork, fanfiction, and other posts about our little game!

Well then, without further ado...

Session One

Your players:

Stiff (any) @stiffyck

Bee (she/they) @applestruda

Jay (she/they) @happy-hermit

Chem (he/they/it) @chemdisaster

Star (they/zie) @scarring-lust (18+)

Ed (he/byte/chirp/gore) @frootyloopy

Space (he/xe) @space-apples

Phil (he/zir/ghost/it) @aresonist

Wilm (he/they) @whilmsy

Melou (he/they) @melouthechalk

Zera (they/he) That’s me!

Elle (she/her) @periwinklemoonlight

Brandy (any) @brandyy0moss

5ievel (any) @5-fievel

Moth (he/him) @evenmoreevil

Admins:

Console- Wren @wren-pineapples

Playing- Zera (me again!)

The session starts off with a bang (more like a vine boom)!

Stiff runs off with Bee and Phil to gather materials before eventually running into Moth in the mountains! They decide to base together, creating the Lads of the Valley! Stiff then goes looking for water and meets Zera, and they both get distracted and go mining together.

Space and Wilm meet at spawn and decide to stick together, watching Chem take the enchanter and run off! They run off to the desert where they meet Zera at night. Space unfortunately dies to a husk, becoming the first green name of the server! Wilm then leaves Zera and goes back to spawn to find Space!

Zera immediately runs off in a random direction alone, and manages to find a village. They get an iron sword from the blacksmith! They briefly meet with Space and Wilm before mining some iron and getting everything set. They meet with Stiff and give him a diamond! They find sculk with Stiff and start mining it, but fall into lava and die. They then meet with Jay and decide to team, becoming the Boatem Birdies.

Chem is the first to mine the surface iron and run off with the enchanter! The boogeyman is chosen, and it ends up being him! He tries to make a plan for killing someone, and lies when Zera briefly passes by and asks if he’s the boogeyman. At spawn, Chem kills Wilm in what is described as the “most pathetic chase scene ever” where Wilm begs Chem not to kill him and Chem says they will cry if they don’t get the kill. Chem then goes to find a cave, names it “the pits of depression and self-loathing”, and allows Star to use the enchanter for sugar cane.

Star goes on a lone adventure, taking care to slaughter every living creature they see, with a special vendetta against the donkeys. They find a mineshaft and an enchanted book! They find Chem in a ravine and they meet up with Brandy for a bit! Star then goes on a hunt for moss and nearly dies.

Elle, staying true to her adventure loving self, basically stays in a cave all session digging clay for bricks. This is because Elle wants to build a house to fight Bee in.

5ievel and Ed stick together, calling themselves the Iron Guys. They briefly met up with Wilm, Brandy, and Elle and mined for a bit. 5ievel died to a creeper before rejoining the group briefly before going to the nether. The Iron Guys decide to base underground!

Space has died two more times, becoming the first and only red of the server.

Meanwhile, the Lads of the Valley are trying to get goat horns, spending about fifteen minutes with varying amounts of success before killing most, if not all, of the goats. Stiff dies by getting shot by a skeleton, and chats with Wilm after respawning before rejoining the Lads of the Valley.

The Boatem Birdies make a mini boatem pole with only two boats, before beginning to make a tower base. They become frenemies with the Lads of the Valley and discuss how screwed they are if one of the Lads becomes the boogey next session. Moth puts up a cobblestone wall between the Boatem Birdies and the Lads’ property, which Jay and Zera later take down. The Boatem Birdies attempt to make a peace treaty with the Lads with flowers, but Phil and Moth burn the flowers while Bee accepts.

The session has ended!

Life count:

Stiff- 3

Bee- 4

Jay- 4

Chem- 4

Star- 4

Ed- 2

Space- 1

Phil- 3

Wilm- 3

Melou- 4

Zera- 3

Elle- 4

Brandy- 3

5ievel- 3

Moth- 4

#5llsmp #5llsmp official summary #5llsmp first session #life series

[madame-fear]

Dragonriders | Lucerys Velaryon x Fem!Reader

a/n : hi hi !! i couldn't get this idea out of my head after mentioning this happening in my previous headcanons. I hope you all enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing this! 💞 Not proofread (so there might be some minor grammar & spelling mistakes), and as always, written by a very sleepy me at 6, nearly 7 am. Might be a bit rushed, apologies.

summary : while everybody in the castle is asleep, Lucerys decides to take you out for a little dragonriding in the middle of the night and teach you how to properly ride a dragon for the very first time in your life.

genre : fluff.

Note aside: I don't take requests for HOTD, and gif not mine / credits to owner.

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Slightly lifting your dress with your free hand – just enough so you wouldn't accidentally stumble upon it's hem, and to allow yourself to walk more freely and quickly – you tried to keep up with Lucerys' rapid pace as he held your hand, and guided you to where Arrax always was. There was a mix of emotions inside of you, having both escaped from the Castle in the middle of the night, while everybody else was immersed in a profound slumber. You where mostly anxious, yet excited for the little adventure you two had planned together; which was, going out for a ride together on Arrax since you had never ridden a dragon before. After all, it seemed like a little fun way of spending some quality time together.

Arrax was already quite familiarised with you, since Luke had properly introduced you to him shortly after you officially started dating. The very first moment you finally had the chance to meet his dragon up close, you were afraid that it would take some time until Arrax became acquainted with your presence. You tried your best to keep calm, but the close contact made you extremely nervous; mostly, afraid that any small, misunderstood movement may trigger a bad reaction on the dragon. Luckily, the dragon took a sweet liking for you – his riders beloved girl – and allowed you to pet him, as well as play with him.

Once you had finally reached to the cave in which Arrax was, you both quietly, but sweetly greeted him. As always, you particularly greeted Arrax by gently lifting your hand, and lovingly petting his scales with admiration at such beauty – which provoked a small huff from him, meaning he enjoyed your petting. Luke copied your actions by tenderly petting Arrax's scales as well, and smiled to himself at the sight of his dragon enjoying the petting. He did notice, that there was something in your facial expression saying, that you were surely felt uneasy about this new experience of riding a dragon for the very first time in your life.

“Nervous, my love?” He spoke, breaking the notoriously awkward silence between the two of you. Your eyes went from staring into Arrax's deep, orange eyes, to Lucerys' hazel eyes. Without saying much, a small blush rose your cheeks, and shyly nodded in agreement at his comment. “Quite.” You replied, earning a tender smile from him as a way of comforting you. “I've never ridden a dragon before, so I must admit I am slightly afraid at the idea of losing balance, you know? And obviously, I've never been so high in the sky before.” You nervously chuckled at your last sentence, and caused him to chuckle with you as well – he couldn't help but think you looked so graciously pretty, even when you were nervous as hell. “There's a first time for everything.” He continued, “but don't worry, I'll help you maintain your balance, and how to properly ride a dragon, my dear. You'll get used to it, eventually.” His free, gloved hand made it's way towards your warm cheek, lovingly caressing it as you timidly smiled at his actions – the crimson colour in your face only intensified, as you lowered your sight to the floor out of shyness.

“Alright.” You quietly muttered, “I'm ready, then.” As you lifted your sight to look up back into his eyes, a warm smile formed on his lips.

The two of you, then, took Arrax out of the cave in which he usually stays so you could prepare and position yourselves for the little night ride. Arrax is yet quite a small dragon, so climbing him wasn't really going to be a difficult task to do. Of course, Luke being the loving gentleman he is, offered you his hand and helped you get on Arrax's back – he soon followed you by climbing the dragon and sitting right behind you. As he sat behind you, he pulled you closer – and quite tightly – to him, your body now pressed against his chest. The suddenly close physical contact made your blush grow wider and redder, as you gulped with nervousness. Luckily, the blush wasn't so notorious, as you were in the middle of the night, and the only lightening was that of the bright moon. Unbeknownst to you, a small blush crept on his cheeks as well, having you closer to him than usual.

Placing his head on your left shoulder, his gloved hands leisurely slid down your arms, eventually finding their way to your hands as he helped you get a tight grip of the reins to control the dragon by gently taking control of your hands. “See? You must control the reins this way, with a tight grip.” His breath softly hit your cheek, and a bit of your neck as well, provoking you some shivers as he explained to you the way in which you had to take control of the dragon – all you could do was nod at everything he explained. You realised, it was quite easy, actually... and maybe, after all, it wasn't going to be as bad as your mind made you think. You certainly enjoyed being this close to him, which was quite unusual for this to happen due to his slight shyness and nervousness towards you.

Riding a dragon seemed quite easy, now that he explained it to you. You weren't nervous about how it anymore, but rather, about the flight itself. The thought of being so high up in the sky made you feel uneasy, but you knew he'd be there to keep you safe, and you trusted him so well because, of course, he had ridden Arrax a thousands of times before – so he knew what he was doing when he told you that you were going to be fine, and nothing would happen. As you fully processed the thought that you were going to be fine since he was there with you, the anxiety slowly faded away from you as you took a deep breath, and prepared yourself to enjoy your very first dragon flight.

Lucerys, as soon as he finished explaining how to keep control of a dragon, spoke again, “Ready for your first flight?” he asked, a warm smile remained on his lips as a way of reassuring you that you'd be alright, as his hands were still holding yours while keeping a tight grip on the reins. You smiled back, and nodded in agreement: “Ready.”

With that being said, Lucerys helped your hands move the reins in a way that indicated Arrax to start flying, as he said something in High Valyrian outloud: something you couldn't quite figure, yet. Whatever thing he had said to Arrax, the dragon had understood it perfectly as his wings started to flap up-and-down, and in the blink of an eye, you were soon flying. Your body unconsciously stiffened at the sight of slowly being far away from the ground with every second that passed, as the fair, cold wind softly hit your faces. You were surely going to be left with some red marks in the palm of your hands by the way you tightened your grip on the reins. Of course, it didn't take him long to notice your general stiffness, especially in your hands, since his own were still grabbing yours, and the reins as well – so he quickly noticed how the strength in your rein-gripping increased. His thumb slowly caressed your soft hand, and his body got closer to you if that was even possible anymore: all of this, as a quick reminder that you had nothing to fear about, since he was there to protect and keep you safe. He had quite an effect on you, because he never failed to make you keep calm when you felt extremely anxious or nervous about something.

Your previous stiffness and slight nervousness didn't last long after he quickly calmed you. As seconds passed by, you gradually began enjoying the little ride, and even dared to slightly look down. Even if it was slightly covered by some clouds and mist, you noticed how beautiful the castle and it's entire sight looked from above, and certainly began enjoying the view completely free from any type of anxiety. The feeling of the cold wind and the bright light of the moon hitting on your face became more enjoyable, and a smile couldn't help but form on your lips at this new situation you were experiencing. In some way, it was a whole new experience that made you feel free – forgetting about any duties, responsabilities, or even, the drama that was going on around the houses. Lucerys noticed how your body began relaxing once again, now enjoying the moment properly, and he couldn't help but smile to himself at how much he adored this moment – wishing it would last forever.

You surrounded the castle for a few good minutes that felt like an eternity, and realising how you needed to get back inside the castle quite urgently before anybody realised you were both missing, Lucerys helped you safely land Arrax back on the grass, landing in the exact same spot in where you had began flying. The two of you hopped off Arrax's back, and walked him back to his cave so he could rest – you didn't leave without properly petting his beautiful pearl-coloured scales, and spoiling him for being a good boy. As you both began walking back to the castle in awkward silence, you noticed it was colder than you had recently felt.

“Have you enjoyed your first dragon ride, my dear?” Lucerys spoke, disturbing the silence between the two of you. You looked at him with a big, satisfied smile plastered on your face, and nodded. “Absolutely. I now realise how silly I was for having been so afraid of riding a dragon. It was quite easy, and it was such a beautiful moment that I never imagined I would possibly ever experience in my life.” You quietly admitted. Your eyes went from looking at his, to shyly looking at the floor. Before he could reply to you, you spoke up again: “Also, Arrax looks very pretty when flying. The way the bright moon shined on his pearly wings and scales was truly mesmerising. Dragons are truly the most breathtaking creatures I've ever met.” Your eyes never left the path in which you were walking, not daring to make eye contact with him purely out of shyness. You could hear him softly chuckle beside you.

“You know,�� he began, as he slowly tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear: “You're prettier than any dragon out there. You're probably the most precious girl I've ever seen, and definitely breathtaking.” His voice became quieter as he realised, he was clueless about where all that courage to tell you what he thought came from. You stopped on your tracks, and so did he, as your eyes shot up to look at his now fully crimson coloured face. Your lips were partly open at his sudden confession, and your cheeks rapidly mimicked his own, already turning red as you timidly giggled at him. It wasn't that he never complimented you, he did, actually – it's just that sometimes, it took him an extremely exaggerated amount of effort to express how he felt towards you without dying of nervousness. It was his turn to now stare at the grass awkardly, until he heard you adorably giggling – causing him to look up at you again, as a smile once again began forming on his face. You slowly walked a few steps closer to him, gently raising your hand, reaching his cheek. You began tenderly stroking his soft, reddish cheek as you stared into his hazel eyes with admiration.

“And you, are the most handsome, shyly cute, and charming gentleman I could've possibly ever met. You have no idea, how lucky I am to have you by my side.” You shyly admitted, looking at his rosy lips. His eyes looked back into your (e/c) eyes with the same pure, eternal adoration you felt for him. Your body slowly began leaning against his until your faces were inches closer, and you pressed your lips tightly against his; enjoying how soft and sweet tasting his lips were. Immediatly, he gave into the kiss, feeling as if he were going to melt under your touch at any moment. His hand found it's way to your cheek, lightly caressing it with his thumb he same way you were doing with him. He didn't want to let go of your lips, but you slowly pulled apart from the kiss due to a slight lack of air. Your faces and lips were still nearly touching. “You have no idea how much I love you, Lucerys Velaryon.” Your voice remained quiet as you spoke. A smile kept growing on his face, and so did the blushing.

“But, we should really get back inside the castle... now, unless we want to get the scolding of our life for suddenly disappearing for too long.” Your hand slowly reached his now messy, curly brunette hair as you lowly giggled at the thought of being caught by both your parents for having a little fun, yet wild adventure out in the middle of the night. Lucerys started giggling a bit too, still feeling a bit shy from the way you showered him in love. “True. We should hurry, now.” He replied. You gave him a quick peck on the corner of his lips, and you grabbed his still gloved hands, guiding him back into the castle.

As the two of you quietly walked back inside the castle, and said good night to each other before walking into your chambers with a quick kiss on the lips, he couldn't help but feel completely lovestruck at the thought of having someone as loving and caring as you were – someone who deserved eternal protection, and to be cherished. Riding Arrax at night when nobody was awake was definitely a nice way to spend some undisturbed quality time with each other. In a way, it was like having a date, but in a unique way. Both of you knew, this night was only the first to many.

#lucerys targaryen x reader #lucerys velaryon imagine #lucerys velaryon x you #lucerys strong #lucerys velaryon #lucerys targaryen #lucerys strong x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #house of the dragon imagine #hotd imagine #jacaerys velaryon x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #lucerys velaryon x reader

[34saveme34]

SMG3's Interactable Adventure - Chapter 1

[Vote by the end of the chapter! Lasts a week]

Warmth. The bed was warm. Warmer than usual. Not that 3 minded that. As he slowly felt himself wake up, he couldn’t even feel wary about that yet. It’s really hard to get scared of comfortable things. Though as more of his surroundings set in, the wariness came too. He wasn’t in the room he would usually sleep in. The warmth he was feeling was someone beside him. The feeling got him riled up enough to check. Seeing 4 beside him, all snuggled up to him made colour leave his face. He was the LAST person he thought would be beside him! In a poetic way of course though, he had to admit, there’s many more people he would be less likely to be in the same bed with. He still found it strange. 

He took a while and it was hard but he managed to get out of 4’s grasp without waking him up. He did stop for a bit though. Seeing him so peaceful did bring him joy. He was happy that 4 didn’t seem to be as plagued by his quality-over-quantity nightmares as he thought he would be. 3 many times would pace around in his room, even back when he was living in the Graveyard after that whole thing happened… He didn’t realise before just how… fragile 4 is. It wasn’t something he was yet used to feeling, and yet… He felt it with his whole self. And it all just made him want to leave him to his demons less and less. He didn’t know how to show or tell 4 so he would just do things on his own, so he wouldn’t need to face 4 giggling about his sensitive side. 

This all made it hard to leave 4 alone but he did anyways. He couldn’t make himself stay, even if a part of himself wanted to. He looked around the room to see if he could find his clothes, considering he was only in his boxers. He found a set of his clothes folded neatly by 4’s boring work station. He still can’t believe such a silly yet boring room was enough for 4. Although at this point, 3 warmed up to it with how much he would visit 4. 

As he lifted his clothes, even those smelled like 4. He couldn’t help but feel like he was forgetting something but he couldn’t put that anywhere in his mind. Did they… do something? He quickly shook the thoughts out of his head, he didn’t need to think about that.

He put on his clothes then quietly exited the room. The hallway was oddly quiet considering how the castle usually is.

3 went outside and realised why. It was still pretty early. Well, it was time to open his café anyways!

He went but there was this odd feeling in his stomach. He wanted to ignore it but it felt like something was wrong. 

He went inside and then to his room. He was surprised to see Meggy there.

“Oh, you’re back already?” Meggy asked as she got up, she was dressed in her usual attire, it seemed she was just about to get her hat and goggles on. 

3 felt the confusion in himself set in.

Meggy seemed confused right back.

“Don’t you remember? You asked me to feed your Eggy since you had to help 4 finish an urgent video of his. And you also asked me to look after him in case he does something stupid”

“Oh! Uh, yeah yeah! Thanks for that! You can leave now if you want to” 3 tried his best to show a sure smile, although he was scared he might have sounded sarcastic. Even though in reality he just didn’t know what was going on.

Meggy gave him a quick hug. 3 was too surprised to even react.

“Just know you can ask me anytime, alright? I’m here for you, 3” she said with a smile then left.

3 just stood there, thinking.

3? Did she… huh. 

He stared in front of himself, trying to figure out what’s up. Since when was he this close to these losers? Like 4 he could almost stomach but Meggy? 

He was knocked out of his thoughts by cheerful barks coming from his most favourite boy.

“Eggdog!” he kneeled down, welcoming his most smartest son in his arms.

It seemed the only thing that didn’t feel off. Him and his dog against the world. 

“Oh, my wonderful baby boy, what would I do without you?” 

He got a few more cheerful barks back as an answer.

“Oh, my boy, what have you been up to?”

He got a few suspicious barks back as an answer.

“Really, you were kind to your dogsitter and didn’t do anything inappropriate?”

Eggdog seemed to choose his barks before replying.

“Well, that doesn’t convince me, you should know that. I better not find badly hung up LED lights in the bathroom of the meme rave you definitely didn’t have in there!”

3 quickly let go of his sonny boy, running to the bathroom. 

The 2 basically raced to the bathroom door, with Eggdog throwing himself at the door, with all his willpower keeping him back from opening the door.

“Hey now, you can’t keep me out forever!”

Eggdog whined, looking up sadly at 3. 3’s heart sank at the sight.

“I won’t be mad I promise!”

Yet Eggdog persisted. 3 gently pushed him out of the way.

He gently opened the door.

The door squeaked lightly, as the room went quiet, almost like the whole world did, it felt loud. Very loud.

3 wasn’t sure why it felt like that, but he could feel a chill travel up his spine as he looked inside.

Everything… was normal. Nothing was out of order. Just as it should be, right?

Right.

As he stepped inside, just with a single foot, he felt a rush through his body, memories coming to him. They didn’t feel like his own. They rather seemed like flashes than actual memories.

He turned around to see that Eggdog, already outside the bathroom, had a tiny neon sign on his head, it depicted a palm tree and a beach chair, although in a rather abstract way.

“Eggdog. Are you trying to sneak away? I said I won’t be mad”

Eggdog looked up at him with big more than puppy eyes, it was filled with so much puppy. 3 could cry.

“You’re okay, I promise! I just hope you didn’t break anything. That’s the part I don’t like”

Eggdog barked with remorse.

“That’s my boy” 3 smiled at him, patting his little head then he continued to take the sign to who knows where.

He stood up. He looked towards the bathroom.

He walked in. Nothing happened. Nothing at all. What happened before? He couldn’t remember. Although, it wasn’t just the bathroom making him feel this way. It was everything.

For some reason, he sat down on the ground, on the cold bathroom floor.

Maybe if he just grounds himself enough… Just bring yourself back to Earth…

He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate, trying to make sense of everything that happened today. Him in 4’s- vicinity. Meggy not insulting him for once when they talk or make him embarrassed. Eggdog’s ultra rave bathroom party not resulting in the toilet going missing. It was all things he was supposed to be happy about. It felt like it had been just going too well for him.

He got so lost in thought, he didn’t realise someone was standing in front of him.

And that someone wasn’t about to be very patient, lifting 3 up, who barely knew what was going on then kissing him. 

3 went wholly red faced. He didn’t expect ANYTHING like this. He was too stunned to speak.

And when the kiss stopped, he could see a smiling 4 right in front of him.

“Way to leave me alone like that- oh, did I disturb something?”

3 was still speechless.

“Uh… did I do something bad?” 4 looked at him sad “I want to know, let’s talk”

4 grabbed 3’s hand and dragged him out of the bathroom. 

Meanwhile, as speechless as 3 was, he could feel his heart race, his head race, his everything race. If he wasn’t limited by the physical attributes of being a living person, his heart could make him time travel. 

They both sat down on 3’s bed. 4 gave 3 a half hug, squeezing him on his side.

“You can tell me if something’s up, you should know I’ll listen”

3 sighed. Words were hard, especially with 4’s eyes feeling like they were deep in his soul, clawing on it without 4 knowing.

“I…” 3 started, looking away from 4 then convincing himself to look back “It feels like things are better than they should be”

“Better than they should be?”

“It feels like… I don’t think I deserve it…”

3 put his head in his hands, trying to keep it together but failing.

“Don’t say that! You deserve all good things… you worked hard after all”

“I-... I… I did?”

“Yeah! I don’t know anyone else who would deserve it as much as you”

“Oh, uh, thanks…”

3 looked down.

“That didn’t help, huh?” 4 crossed his arms, letting go of 3.

3 kept looking on the ground, then finally determined he should ask what was on his mind.

“What did you kiss me for?”

“What?”

“I asked wh-”

“No I heard but- We’ve been together for a good while now, so I- I don’t know where this is coming from”

“HUH??”

3 jumped up, staring at 4 as if he saw a ghost. 4 started to look more and more worried.

3 could feel tears come to his eyes as he couldn’t take this anymore. He ran away, like a coward. But the damage has already been done. He ran out of the building and to the woods. It started to get darker and darker but he didn’t care. He just needed some space… That is all. He sat down by a tree, plopping himself down after running so much. He lowered his head in his hands.

It felt like the world was against him. As he looked up again. He wasn’t in the dark trees anymore. No life seemed to persist, just darkness. No one was there but him. nothing was there but him. But that soon would change as a figure approached him.

“Hey now, boy… what do you think, how did that make SMG4 feel?”

“...H… Huh?” 3 looked up. He swore he knew that face from somewhere but he couldn’t put it anywhere. 

“He really cares about you and you do as well, right? Why would you choose to make him feel bad like that? That’s selfish”

“I…” he looked miserable.

“Interesting… you know what, boy? I’ll help you out. WE’ll help you out” 

“We?”

“We’re gonna ask for audience opinion! They’re gonna help you with making sure you get on the right path! Or… let’s not talk about that possibility!”

“Audience, really? Those losers?”

“Shush, boy”

“Quit calling me boy”

“Fits you though”

The figure laughed then they brought up 3 objects out of nowhere. While to 3, they were redacted, so he really could only look confused, to the audience, to YOU, they were there clearly, with subtitles added to explain each item.

“The choice is yours” the figure pointed at the 4th wall.

First item - A receipt to some restaurant, dating only a few months back.

Second item - Christmas lights that are broken. They seemed to suffer a lot of damage but they're still recognisable as christmas lights.

Third item - 2 AA batteries, still in their packaging, implying they are still fully charged.

#smg34 #hope to get some votes in #I got a lot planned so #SMG3's Interactive Adventure