#like not as a character but i was just....there following the action lmao

[myheartismadeofstars]

Man the more I think about it, the more I REALLY wish Durge could be a companion. It would be so cool to have a dragonborn companion, and just...see what Durge is canonly like.

Also I really want to see my Tav adopt Durge!

And it would allow you to see all of the Durge story stuff while playing your Tav!!

I really don't know why Durge is a Storm Sorcerer though? It just doesn't suit his character to me... (I don't know how well white dragonborn suits him either. Cold breath? I think there are better options, though I WILL say that he LOOKS cool AF as a white dragonborn!) I would probably have him as a rogue, barbarian or fighter (or even Oath of Vengeance Paladin!) if we didn't already HAVE companions of those classes please ignore the double druids but I could see him as a Monk if relying on unused classes! (Btw my Sorcerer subclass of choice would be Draconic for funny reasons)

Maybe it could be cool if Durge was multitalented before losing his memory and he could ask for advice as to what path to follow, allowing him to fill any role depending on what you needed. But he himself prefers to be up close and personal, approving if he got asked to be a more martial class (he would also approve if asked to be a sorcerer, implying he already knew he had those powers but would just...not use them lmao).

I feel like as a companion his approval would be a bit... weird. He's typically very reserved and cautious, but approves a LOT of you suddenly commit acts of violence (also pushes him towards indulging). But approves a bit if you use guile to avoid violence (pushes him to resist). Disapproves of chaos and often scolds chaotic party members (Astarion, Karlach to a lesser degree) even though he may laugh at their antics. Durge rarely responds to acts of kindness, but responds well to kindness to children (subconsciously reminds him of his foster parents). Mostly he approves of practicality, intelligence and ambition. He'd likely have interesting conversations with Gale about that, get along well with Minthara in general. I feel in my soul that Durge has chronic headaches because of Karlach (not because he doesn't like her, but because she mentions Gortash, and it hurts to think when he can't quite remember). I imagine he has a lot of thoughts that he doesn't act on. (Also I highkey think he'd sleep with Astarion at some point if neither are romanced. Listen... Astarion is dead, guys. He's a corpse that can consent)

If I were to write a companion!Durge story I would show him as canonly killing Quil instead of Alfira simply because it's a unique character and allows you to finish Alfira's quest AND get Durge Action (also I like the idea of her hitting on him). I think there could be some dramatic changes to the scene depending on how high his approval is, and how many times he's been encouraged to indulge (if he has high approval and has been resisting the whole time, he'll outright confess to having killed her, confused and terrified. If you've been encouraging his urges he'll take pleasure in it, it's possible to have a version where he blames Astarion, which Tav could pass a check to point out how nonsensical that is lmao)

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 #bg3 durge #bg3 dark urge #the dark urge #dark urge #durge

[leoneliterary]

Obviously this is something that entirely depends on your own level of comfort and story planning but when it comes to the dancer class it’s mentioned that some of the other dancers are brothel workers. Would the player be able to pursue a path similar to this, at least working as a seductress (and I say that gender neutrally cause idk what else to call it LMAO) styled assassin working to get their targets at their most vulnerable for a kill.

Or, take this now as an ask in regards to lore, would papa bear simply just not allow the player the pursue this.

This is a bit of a spoiler, but I think it's good to clear up expectations surrounding this!

Later in the story, you can definitely lure a some characters to their doom, either by doing the seducing yourself or employing some of the other performers to do so. An important part of this story is that your character isn't alone and that your actions impact others, so keep that in mind when you make choices like this.

Regarding lore and background, Amatus and Hadassah have not allowed your character with the dancer background to do this before. Amatus didn't feel comfortable putting you out there like that at a young age to get close to his enemies, although he was called out by some in the guild for still using you as a thief. (Amatus and his moral dilemmas.) And even if he had, Hadassah wouldn't have allowed it. She refuses to run an operation like Mara, but the performers under her roof can do as they please ass long as they follow certain rules.

And that's all I can say on that without spoiling so events that are going to happen soon...

#interactive fiction #honor amongst thieves #if wip #game development #interactive novel #worldbuilding #hat if #Amatus #hadassah #mc customization #silken sands

[thatgirlonstage]

Yeah yeah “show don’t tell” get mis-explained and misinterpreted as writing advice a lot and yeah sometimes you SHOULD be telling the reader things however I am unwilling to discard this particular phrase given the number of stories I have encountered that make me want to slap the author across the face with it

#tal reads #this post brought to you by my current audiobook #telling me. REPEATEDLY. in conversation and internal narration #that the mc is this incredible rebel who never follows the rules and who everyone knows likes to live on the edge man #meanwhile in terms of his actual ACTIONS in the story #the most exciting thing this man has done is buy a coffee shop without his family’s approval #(there’s a LITTLE more weight behind this than I’m making it sound bc his family is politically important. but not much.) #there’s this whole conversation he has with one guy #to whom the mc mentions his family wanted him to take religious orders #and the next like. ten lines of dialogue #are all just the guy repeating how UTTERLY UNBELIEVABLE this is and how NO ONE is less suited to that than the mc #and I’m just sitting there like. this guy is neither a serial killer nor afaik a political atheist so like calm the fuck down perhaps #it’s not a bad book overall!!! #but the reputation the author wanted her mc to have is HILARIOUSLY out of step with the character she actually wanted to write him being #if it was all internal narration I might call it a brilliant bit of unreliable narrator of the self-aggrandizing flavor #and take it as an artistic choice #but it’s clear other people think of the mc how he thinks of himself #just with…zero justification in the actual story lmao #every time he gets close to actually doing something seriously risky he’s like ‘but I’m not stupid so I didn’t’ #me: WHY DO YOU HAVE A REPUTATION FOR DOING STUPIDLY RISKY THINGS THEN??? #anyway if you have to TELL your audience what kind of person your character is #rather than letting their actions speak for themselves #then it’s time to reassess if that character actually is the kind of person you’re describing

[fruitflavoredchapstick]

Honestly so funny how people keep trying to turn how Certain People in the hs fandom were treated into this big pity piece for them when said people harassed so many fucking people, INCLUDING MYSELF WHEN I WAS 14, for simply disagreeing on a stupid fucking webcomic lol.

#sorry i dont feel too bad for the uber popular person who publicly tried to get their rabid followers to harass me at age 14 bc I said #the way people interpreted a certain character's actions made me uncomfortable as a csa victim and then tried to #do the victim olympics with me and act like I was a “lesser victim” of molestation just a few months after it stopped #obviously there were people who were prejudiced against her but the majority of people weren't against her bc of that lol #and claiming otherwise is just absolutely coddling #remember when they'd sic'd their followers on some random poor fanartist who liked transmasc vriska lmao like #insane how people were doing this shit in their mid 20s

[afniel]

AH I REMEMBERED WHAT I WAS GONNA SAY EARLIER but it's kind of stupid, lmao.

So my partner is getting into brewing beer and I got them a Tilt, which is a Bluetooth hydrometer. It measures specific gravity and temperature, which are things you want to know so that you don't kill your yeast or whatever. Except the sensor's Bluetooth range is super short, and it basically runs via a phone app, and the temperature we're logging currently is the crawlspace, accessible via the staircase closet. So they were like, wait, what do we do about this, because I can't leave my phone in the closet, that's my alarm clock.

In a kind of ridiculous turn of life imitating art, I was like, hold up, I got just the thing right at my desk. Bam. Old phone. We just needed to scrounge up a charger because the battery is so dead that after charging just enough to power on it claimed it was at 53% (to be fair to it, there is a very real chance that it's correct, and it just holds no charge at this point so the capacity is just THAT low) and now it lives in the closet logging sensor data.

And I was like, you know...didn't I just solve a major story detail with a much larger version of this...yeah, no, this is all vaguely familiar somehow, power supply issues and all. Kind of cool that the concept works though. Kind of weird that it came up at all?

We are not gonna talk about the fact that I still have at least two more ancient-ass phones in a drawer where that came from because look, man, sometimes you just need a camera/mic/mini computer with Bluetooth and wifi that fits in a pocket, and people just get rid of these things, but not me. I actually could build a shitty security system out of them if I was reaaaally inclined. I mean. I'm not. But it's technically possible.

For real though, If I pick up any stupid maker projects I still high-key am thinking about slapping Bluetooth into a necomimi headset and running that through an Arduino and learning to code just enough to let me skip songs/change the volume on Spotify with my brain, because it's entirely doable, and I mean yeah I could do that on my phone remotely too, but that's not funny, now, is it. I'm just not sure it's $350+ of parts funny. Kind of a big investment just to prove the point that haha look I am the extremely ADHD type of lazy where I would rather solve a problem via the most convoluted and complicated Rube-Goldberg type ass machine way possible rather than just perform a single simple action.

YEAH I'VE BEEN THIS SCATTERED ALL DAY AND I REALLY SHOULD GO TO BED SHOULDN'T I. I started playing Satisfactory. Mistakes were made. I'm going to dream about conveyor belts again and I did it to myself...

#you know I used to mostly blog about witchcraft and paganism #and now I'm like. you know what I want to do? chain an EEG sensor to the Spotify API and skip songs with my brain. #it's kind of like magic when you put it like that. maybe things haven't actually changed that much after all #the headset idea actually came about bc I'd gotten so far into the writing zone that I literally just. tried to skip a song with my brain. #because I had so much reploid characters on my mind that it just sounded like a normal course of action I should be able to take #obviously it didn't work and cue me sitting there for a full 3 seconds going 'why didn't it. wait. why did I think it would?' #followed immediately after by 'YEAH BUT I PROBABLY COULD DO THAT ACTUALLY' #because you just Cannot write a character like Glitch without it rubbing off on you a little bit and WWGD kicked in real hard lmao #well obviously he'd [ridiculous chain of ideas ending in 'anyway I installed some shit and now I can control Spotify with my mind'] #and I gotta say I do not like the idea of sticking a sensor on the *inside* of my skull. sounds very bad. #but it doesn't have to be on the inside to work soooo there's that! #I have a friend who for quite a long time had a rare earth magnet in one finger so he could find live wires by touch #he ended up removing it for work eventually but when I say I was jelly. man. but also kinda squeamish about it. #I do not like sharp things and I am Very funny about my fingers as an artist/writer/used to be musician. #but man that sounds cool. I want the magnet senses. I don't think I want them enough to have a magnet under my skin though #I think I wouldn't use them enough for that to be helpful actually lmao #anyway do I even need more senses? probably not. mine are already unfiltered and loud as shit. #'boy I wish I could sense magnetic fields' says idiot guy who can hear the mains hum even with no electronics currently turned on #like when the power goes out I can FEEL the fucking difference in the air and it's unnaturally quiet and kinda spooky #I do not think I need help on this front actually. I think I got it handled pretty okay lol

[orcelito]

Thinking about the stunts Vash is going to pull in INTL 16 and. 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

#speculation nation #itnl shit #itnl 15 was me psychologically (and physically) torturing him #but he will get to be a badass in itnl 16. mark my words. #honestly im having so much fun with how much action i get to write in this fic #it was a bit of a slow start with the action bc vash was laying low #just that lil bit with e.g.mine and also the Hint of a fight with midman #but then with BDN now THAT was a bang of a fight. hoo boy #i get the quick One And Done fights. the fast tussle with IMMENSE injury. the slow following of a madman's whims #that amounts to an unconventional torture scene rather than an actual fight. #and then this next chapter... eheheh #basically. as often as there are fights in the manga. i get to have fights in my fic. #and it's SOOOO FUNNNNNN #im actually feeling very spoiled with it lmao. i only really got like... 4? fight scenes in all of the 500k words of discacc (so far) #compared to the like. 3 solid scenes plus 2 mini ones ill have withink 100k of itnl #with More To Come... #it's so much FUN!!!!! and with a character capable of so much Shit like vash is #i feel like a kid in a candy store. action is so much fuckin fun to write. man.

[sunbratz]

reading a book rn that i will not name but im like. this is the weirdest south park style fanfiction ive ever read

#I FEEL BAD i dont think its intentional #that post where i was like i need something new but familiar? yeah. #like the side characters arent rly similar to othee characters but the main two is like. them to a tea in appearance #in personality in actions in everything #and in a way that follows similar tropes to style fics but the ones that read really well and true to the characters and not just like #basic boy in love with his best friend trope #anyway idk maybe im still buried in delusions from this morning but girl LMAO its a good time #delete later

[cinnabeat]

i cant remember if i said this or not but i was saying how i dont think the reveal about iruma being a human was being teased cuz the progress for it was all very natural but now that the fucking reveal was cockblocked TWICE by a fucking phone call im willing to retract my statement

#THIS is teasing #the fact that iruma is a human was never really touched on much? #like first of all iruma had to get over thinking he was gonna get munched on #not saying its an unreasonable fear but like he couldnt be too paranoid about it #like his humanness is always in the background and iruma HAS expressed wanting to say it before #and explicityl showing that his fear is no long er being waten and more just being rejected in general #which is a normal fear and a nice show of his progress in the character development department #and maybe the issue of him being human would be more touched upon if it wasnt the background plot #like i think people forget mairuma is a very slice of life manga lmao like the action and antagonist plot is VERY background #like the whole point is iruma learning to do things gor himself rather than doing things because others want him too #its about irumas character journey you know? like yeah theres like a prophecy or whatever happening but thats b plot business #so the reveal of him being a human should naturally follow the flow of his own character development which it has!! and i think iruma is in #fact getting to that point of feelinng brave enough and confident enough to tell his closest friends if hes not at the point already #also it probably feels like its being teased bc its quite literally been years irl but u gotta take into account the Whole Manga and not the #weekly chapter releases #like of course everything feels slow when ur only getting bite sized pieces of big arcs you know? #idk what the rate of plot progress is tho bc my only experience with anything FINISHED is fairy tail and that too 545 chapters #which is wild considering how much shit happened there and how much shit ISNT happening here #where was i going with this #oh yeah so before it didnt feel like teasing just basic plot progression based on where the characters are in their devlopment which for a h #heavily character based story is amazing imo #but the two interruption are VERY annoying especially since it just breaks the tension #maybe itd be comically if i was reading this all in one go like start to finish like haha damn interrupted twice #but it IS annoying in real time. i do apprrciate the universe refusing to let the antagonists share irumas secret with the people he conside #considers important without his say so. very considerate of them #narnia can eat shit btw no matter how pretty he looks #michi tag #i fucking wish i could talk like this about other things im interested in but i only pull out my analysis hat when i see bad takes which mar #mairuma has A LOT of imo. like every new chapter at least one person will say something so baffling that i have to say something back if onl #only to myself

[sexlapis]

actor! toji fushiguro thoughts 💭

actor toji would be one of those hot dilf actors that women would always be drooling over, edits of him always popping up on your fyp, the most outta pocket comments underneath all of his insta posts, he would be the number 1 dilf for all the old man fuckers.

toji rarely posts on social media. he’s at that age where he just does not care to post his whole life online, but that only attracts people to him more because he is so mysterious. he would have like 10 million followers and only follow 12 people (including you)

toji would probably be one of those actors that have no variety in their roles, but everybody would still eat it up anyways. toji as an actor would typically play a villain/antagonist or an anti-hero, typically in an action movie/series and he plays them well. toji can embody an intimidating, frightening, intelligent villain very well. he could be cast as one of the most horrendous, horrible villains and be a menace towards the main cast but because he looks like that, he is forgiven.

but there are those rare times toji is casted as a father or father figure and his character would do anything for their daughter and everyone just loses it. he plays the father role well, almost too well. he is so caring, protective and sweet towards the actress playing as his daughter, even behind the scene clips with one another, he is just so gentle and dreamy. the fans cannot handle it!

during interviews, toji can be charming. he cracks jokes and he answers questions honestly, even if they make him look unprofessional. he really does not give a fuck about that, which only makes him even more attractive. he’s a little sleazy sometimes, but that just adds to his lazy effortless appeal.

he just has such a dominant personality and not in a bad way either. like if an interviewer asked a question that made a cast member uncomfortable, he would smoothly change the subject and the mood, making everyone forget about it entirely. also, his stare is really intense…like when the interviewer or a fellow cast member is speaking, he makes sure to look at them and listen really closely, not even realising how intimidating that could be 😭

despite his unprofessional personality and wealthy background, people who work with toji cannot say anything bad about him. he is a great actor with great work ethic and is always respectful to his cast members. and most of all, he is humble. due to his background and accomplishments, other actors on set expect him to be all flashy and all head in the clouds, but toji isn’t like that. toji is very aware and down to earth and he doesn’t see himself as superior because of his wealth. he sees what that power does to some people (his family) and he wants nothing not do with it.

overall, for the most part, toji is a respected actor, with a loyal (albeit crazy) fanbase, he actually enjoys his job and lives a relatively private and quiet life. people barely know anything despite his wealth and fame and prefers to keep it that way.

a/n: this was inspired by jeffrey dean morgan lmao. also i’m thinking of maybe doing a mini one shot with actress reader x actor toji in the form of one of those youtube videos like “(reader) & toji fushiguro being a couple for 10 minutes straight” i think that would be fun 🤭🤭

edit: toji & reader being a couple for 10 minutes straight is here <3

#lana del rey girlies would love him so bad #actor!toji #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji headcanons #toji fushiguro headcanons #toji x you #toji fushiguro x you #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji fluff #toji fushiguro fluff #toji zenin x reader #t

[punkeropercyjackson]

It's finally here!!!

Graphic design is my passion LMFAO but as i said i would do a while back,i've created a masterpost of all the Jason Todd content that's worth your time!This is rather long but he's existed since 1983 so!!

Base edit is my little sister @mayameanderings and tagging @coffeemilkcatz and @nanaonmars since they said yes when i asked if they wanted me to!Let's dive in then!

Batman 408-426,Detective comics 568-582,Superman annual 11,New Teen Titans 18-31,Blue Devil 19,Action comics 556 and 594,Batman Annuals 10-12 and Batman(The cult)for pre-reboot Robin!Jason my beloved

Nightwing Year One 101-106,New Teen Titans 55,Nightwing 10(1997)and Legends of the Dark Knight 100 for Dick and Jason siblinghood,Gotham Knights 34 for the short story of him and Alfred and Detective comics 790 for Bruce telling Cass about him as it takes place on Jason's birthday

Lost Days aka the Red Hood prologue

Under The Red Hood(2010)-The original comic is good in it's own right but the movie is leagues better written(Rare comic book adaption exception lmao)

Robin 177 and 182-183 for tha actual Tim and Jason beef instead of 'replacement' and 'enemy to caretaker' bs

Azreal:Death's Dark Knight 3(Can't give commentary on this one since i don't know Azreal like that,sorry)

Red Hood and The Outlaws(2016).Unlike the Utrh comic vs the Utrh movie,the original Rhato has nothing positive like the reboot

Not TECHNICALLY Jason BUT Duke is his favorite brother and Stephanie's the only Batfam girl he's truly close to so you should also stan them since he'd want you to /lh

Red Hood:Outlaw for the confirmation that Red Hood loves black women from infinity to infinityyyyy(meaning his love interest Dana Harlowe is introduced and featured as an mc in this run)

Urban Legends 1-6 for his return to the Batfam-Messy tbh but i do enjoy parts of it!

Task Force Z for him and Stephanie being a vigilante team and it has a prelude,that being Detective comics 1041-1043

Unkillables and Joker:The Man Who Stopped Laughing for Jayrose goodies and more of the above

Gotham War if you feel like turning off your brain to look at good art and laugh at dogshit writing

Red Hood:The Hill is his current run and when our queen Dana comes home from comics limbo!!!

The following is a misc list that's not required to include in your Jason knowledge but HIGHLY recommended you do just for fun!

Tiny Titans 23,29,33,39,45 and 47,Bombshells 46,60 and 62,Bombshells United 18-24,Lego Batman:Family Matters,A Death In The Family 2020,Batman:The Adventures Continue,Batman/Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 5-6,The Doom That Came to Gotham 2023 and The Teen Titans Go episode 'The Best Robin'(Pre-Reboot Robin Jason rights!!!).Also look up 'Nobody cares about Tim Drake' if you don't know what that is,you'll love it

Jason also appears in the Lego DC Super Villains games that i highly recommend as well especially because my girlfriend is a mega fan of it and i don't know much about Lego Batman 3:Beyond Gotham but please avoid the aformentioned original Rhato,Red Hood:Outlaws and the Gotham Knights game as they feature extremely problematic writing not limited to but including racialized misogyny and ableism and do disservice to Jason himself anyway so you wouldn't want to consume them to begin with if you want to like him.I have mixed feelings on the Arkham Knight and Injustice games series' but they are objectively fairly good so i wouldn't say no to giving them a shot to see if you like them

And for the finale we have Wayne Family Adventures-Definitely a good read but to be totally honest it does Duke DIRTY and it sucks so much of DC to have marketed as his series to not only not follow through at all and make it an ensemble cast instead but ALSO deprive him of his actual characterization and story to make him a demure weak black boy stereotype.I won't judge you at all for liking it if you decided to read it or have already but kindly keep this in mind and consider joining me and my mutuals in our rewrite of it to give our Signal of Hope and Chaos the writing he deserves or at least support us through likes and reblogs!Happy Jason readings and have a good day💕

#jason todd #black jason todd #latino jason todd #afrolatino jason supremacy #trans jason todd #autistic jason todd #bipan jason todd #aroaceflux jason todd #robin #red hood #jaydana #jaytemis #jayrose #jayeddie #batfam #anti rhato #jason todd deserves better #antijayroy #antijoyfire #anti batcest #ditf #lost days #utrh #rhato #the outlaws #dead sidekicks force #the anomalies #jaysumm #💌 #summerposting

[valeisaslut]

the one night stand- mdni (+18)

clic to read pt.2!

⚢ pairing: Shane McCutcheon (The L Word, 2004) x Reader 𖥔 ݁ ˖

ෆ synopsis: Shane stood near the entrance of the party, her androgynous beauty catching the attention of a few curious onlookers. When her eyes fall in a beautiful lady, she already knows what to do 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭑ word count: 3.03k 𖥔 ݁ ˖

♱ content: smut!!, dom/switch! Shane, switch! reader, short fluff, fingering (r!receiving), oral sex (r!giving and receiving), sitting on Shane's face, cum eating, degradation, beg kink, pet names, etc. MDNI!!! 𖥔 ݁ ˖

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ Hii! this is my first fic in tumblr, i noticed that there wasn't enough Shane smut out there and i said WHY NOT, lets make the lesbians happy. This is my fist smutty fic and english isn't my first language, so if the is some misspelling or writing mistakes I will be happy to receive constructive criticism! This fic is inspired by a chat i had on character ai lmao. Sorry if this goes too straight to the point (the only straight this fic will have) and doesn't have that long of an intro! i'm kinda lazyyy 𖥔 ݁ ˖

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

In a hot Saturday night, Shane McCutcheon has nothing to do, so she decided to take her always-first-option, go to a party. She stood near the entrance of the host house, her androgynous beauty catching the attention of a few curious onlookers. Her dark, tousled hair framed her striking face, and her confident demeanor radiated an air of mystery and allure. She wore a fitted leather jacket over a loose white shirt, paired with faded jeans that hugged her figure just right. Her favorite pair of boots completed the look, adding a touch of edginess to her ensemble.

She remained unphased while looking at her surroundings, until her eyes fell on you, a beautiful woman and all alone. Shane checked you out, smiling warmly at the new prey standing in front of her.

"hey" she said, her confidence taking over her actions.

"excuse me, can i help you?" you looked at the direction of the womanly voice, not expecting such a beauty to appear in your radar.

"maybe..." She raised an eyebrow and responded with a flirty grin.

"in what exactly?" Shane's demeanor flustered you, her confidence filling the whole room.

"in convincing you to go out for a drink with me." Shane smirked as she stepped closer, brushing her fingers against your arm.

"that's a little bold" you say in a sarcastic, but flirty tone.

"a little?" Shane chuckled, raising an eyebrow as she leaned a little closer, bringing her body closer to yours. She looked at you with a suggestive smile, her eyes holding a suggestive flirty glint.

“well, womanizer, whats your name?" you smile as you get closer to her. She raised an eyebrow and smirked again as she saw you step closer, her eyes following the movements of your body.

"I'm Shane, and you?" she responded in her characteristic confident monotone.

"that is a pretty name, I'm y/n" you say, matching her tone and looking lustfully at her eyes, and then her lips.

"It's nice to meet you, y/n." Shane said softly, her voice a sexy murmur as her hand slid down your chin, her thumb caressing your lower lip. 

"you know, you are so different to every woman I have ever seen" she murmured, staring into your eyes as she leaned in even closer to you.

"Oh, and what makes me so different?" you asked with an unconvinced smirk, tilting your head to one side as you looked at her with a look of genuine curiosity.

"your confidence, your amazing style, your hands, your lips.."  she gets closer, nearly kissing you but not doing it.

You smirked again as Shane brushed her lips against yours, your heart pounding as you felt the other woman's hot breath on your skin. "Oh, you like them, do you?" you murmured, your voice a deep whisper as your gaze roamed to Shane's lips and back to her eyes again. "Kiss me then. Show me just how much."

"if you want it so badly..." Shane sighed softly as your lips met hers, her body instinctively moving closer to her and wrapping her arm around your waist. Her free hand brushed against your hip, slowly running along the curve of your body.

Shane kissed you passionately, her hand gently massaging your back. As she felt your body press against hers, her breath and her pulsed quickened, feeling something she had never felt before.

She broke the kiss, looking at you with pure passion in her eyes "let's go to my place" she muttered.

"I want to, but it smells like trouble" you responded looking at the other way, trying hardly not to follow the impulse of throwing yourself at her arms right here and right now.

"trouble is my middle name." Shane said with a smirk, biting her lip and caressing your face, bringing your eyes to look at her direction again.

"please, come home with me, I promise i won't disappoint you." She deeply murmured, her breath tickling your ear as a shiver ran through your spine,.

"fuck it, let's go" you said, throwing the last bit of critical thinking you ever had in that moment. It isn't that bad, you thought to yourself, It's only a silly one night stand, right?

Right?....

"I like that answer." Shane grinned, her free hand brushing against your waist again as she pulled you outside and towards her motorcycle. She took her keys and sat in the shiny leather seat, handing you her black helmet.

"safety first, pretty girl" she said, making you chuckle as you put the helmet on and sat behind her, grabbing her waist tightly. You didn't feel it, but Shane got goosebumps all over her body, what was happening to her? she usually never felt like this with the girls she brought home.

"This is going to be a long night" she thought.

"your apartment is nice, what do you do for a living?" you said after entering to her place, looking around.

"I'm actually a hairstylist, believe it or not." Shane said as she walked into her apartment, kicking off her shoes at the door. She paused for a moment, looking back at you with a charming smile. "and what about you, what do you do?"

"I believe it, you have those vibes. I'm an artist, believe it or not" you responded, taking off your jacket and leaving it in a chair near you.

"an artist? I bet you're super creative" Shane said with a warm smile as she started taking off her jacket, her gaze following your body. "But I think you're even more beautiful." She murmured, her voice a deep whisper as she walked up to you.

"you really think so?"

"I know so" Shane murmured, brushing her fingers against your cheek and lowering her voice to a sexy murmur. "You're absolutely gorgeous, y/n."

"you are not so bad yourself" you said, your voice nearly a whisper.

"Oh, so you think I'm gorgeous too?" Shane smirked, moving her hand behind you neck to pull you closer again. Her mouth was inches away from your lips, and she stared at you with a sultry pout. "Maybe I should prove how gorgeous I am to you."

"then stop talking and do it" Shane chuckled softly as you said it, kissing you hungrily. She moaned softly as she kissed you and pulled you closer again. "let's go upstairs" she whispered, taking your hand.

Shane led you to her bedroom, closing the door behind you and locking it. She turned to look at you, her gaze roaming over your body before moving back up to your eyes. "It took me every ounce of willpower not take you right there at the party" she whispered, walking over to you to caress the curve of her waist.

"maybe you should have" you were feeling even bolder than usual, Shane's charm and caresses taking you to the limit.

"well, then I guess I'll have to make it up to you now." Shane said as she leaned up to kiss your neck. She slowly walked you towards the bed, pushing you onto it as her mouth worked its way down your body, while slowly taking off your dress.

"that sounds fair enough" you playfully said.

Shane chuckled quietly as she continued to caress your skin with her lips, her tongue teasing your skin with light licks. She smiled softly as she watched you tremble beneath her touch, your soft whimpers only adding to her excitement.

She smirked as her fingers brushed against your hips again, her mouth continuing its work along your body. "look at you, so eager for my touch." she purred.

Shane leaned in to kiss you again, her tongue seeking entrance to your mouth. "Mmm… Do you feel it too?" she whispered against your lips. "the way I'm feeling right now… for you." she felt your skin and scent was intoxicating her, and her heart was beating loudly in her chest.

"I need you so badly" you said, whimpering and making her almost loose her mind.

Shane pushed herself back slightly to look at you with a teasing smile "need me, do you?" she whispered.

"even more than you think" you responded, feeling hot everywhere.

"then beg me." Shane purred, watching you with a flirtatious smirk

is she really asking me this? you though to yourself.

She started to skillfully unclasp your bra with one hand, which she did in a fast, almost imperceptible move. Shane's eyes widened when she saw your breasts, and she let out a low gasp of pleasure.

But then, you though "fuck it" for the second time in only one night.

"god... please Shane" She was just about to take off her shirt when you moaned, her eyes moving up to meet your gaze again.

"good girl, that is exactly what i wanted to hear" her voice a deep whisper as she laid her hands on your breasts, massaging them.

"I think I've been patient enough tonight." she said as she connected her mouth to your nipple and roughly pinching the other, making your hips jump upwards while you whimpered.

“Is it too much angel?” Shane said and you could hear the smirk in her voice. You squirmed in her arms. She tugged again and you cried out. “Jesus, Shane”

She smoothed a hand up and down your thigh. “How ‘bout we take these off?” Shane offered, removing her mouth from your nipple. “Yes please” Your whiny plea made her fist tighten momentarily, and she had to breath out once through her nose before she continued.

"you are driving me fucking crazy" she said, while you started taking off her shirt. Shane looked down at your panties, and at the sight of the obvious wet patch on your underwear both of you let out a shaky breath.

Shane's chest was exposed, you started kissing her breasts and your hands roamed thru her body. She moaned softly when she felt your lips and hands, her fingers clutching at your hips. "that feels so good, baby" she sighed softly, her eyes half closed in pleasure.

Shane's smirk grew as she felt you run her hand down her thigh, her eyes meeting you with a sultry stare as she leaned in to kiss you again. As your kiss broke apart, Shane was speechless, just smiling and looking at your lips with a hypnotic gaze. "y'a know.. you have a very tempting mouth"

"let me show you how really tempting it is" you whispered in her ear, your voice dripping with sensuality while you lowered her pants just enough to reveal her wet panties, pulling them aside to blurt her glistening folds. As you kissed her clit, she let out a soft “fuck” at your eager mouth, letting you know that she was enjoying every second of it.

Your arms wrapped around her thighs, your hands caressing and gripping her soft flesh as she moved against your tongue, pleasuring herself on it while you gently sucked on her clit. Her taste was intoxicating, her wetness growing with each passing moment as you explored her, with the addition of your saliva wetting her folds. 

She gazed down at you, before her eyes dart shut “there!” You could feel her body pulse and you knew you found her spot. Her clit flicking roughly over your tongue.

Her eyes snap open and she peered at you “Jesus, this feels so good.” she said as her head rolled back. Her hand grabbed a fistful of your hair as she roughly pulled it, making you moan.

“yes baby, just like that.” she bites her lip, followed by a whispered “fuck” and you know she is already reaching her peak. Her moans and the graphic sound of her wetness filling the room.

Her eyes tightened as she begins to grind harder and faster into your mouth. She reached her peak of pleasure, her body pulsating with rapture as you slipped two fingers inside of her as she let out a long cry.

Her rhythm continues and you can tell the new pressure you added is building her quickly. Her moans grow louder, more animalistic. She pushes hard against you and you can even feel her pulse intensify, her sounds grow and grow, until suddenly her hands let go your hair and her head falls back in quiet breathy moans.

She was gripping the bedsheets tightly while she rode out her high in your mouth, you could her swollen clit pounding, her body still trembling and her legs shaking. "god damn y/n" she moaned breathlessly as she opened her eyes and to meet her gaze with yours.

You take your face off her pussy, seeing her flinch slightly at the cold air touching her sensitivity. When she finally descended from her euphoria, you took her cheeks and drew her close, kissing her deeply and allowing her to savor herself in your mouth.

"that was... mind blowing to say the least" Shane says on a deep huff and a lazy smile on her face, her eyes full of lust "let me make it up to you"

"i'll be happy to let you.." you said on a flirty tone, expectant for her next action. Shane hovered over you, her eyes scanning every inch of your features. The palpable desperation on your gaze was obvious to her. She knew that you wanted her as much as she did, so she gave in to her desire.

"I must say, I don't think I've ever felt this attracted to anyone before" she breathed out, her voice a soft whisper.

Her hand traced a path down thru the insides of your thigh, massaging you through the fabric of your soaked panties. A whimper escaped your lips in response to her touch "I can't help but notice how wet you are" she murmured, tilting her head slightly and watching you collapse beneath her, succumbing to her seduction.

She slipped her hand under your panties and let two of her fingers slide into your wet entrance with ease, eliciting an audible groan from you. A moan escaped her lips as she realized how tight you were against her.

She pressed her lips to yours, the kiss intense and passionate. You moaned against her lips as she continued to thrust her fingers in and out of you, her thumb finding its way to your throbbing clit and rubbing circles against it.

She trailed her lips down to your neck, nibbling and sucking on the exposed skin and sending shivers down your spine. The pace of her thrusts quickened, and you felt her knuckles slapping against your skin.

"Jesus fucking christ, Shane" A series of moans escaped your lips as you felt the tension drain from your body. Your moans and whimpers sending vibrations to her lips and waves of bliss were coursing through your body. She curled her fingers inside you, finding your sweet spot and making you wince with pleasure.

As you felt your orgasm approaching, you dug your nails onto Shane's back as your thighs trembled. She noticed you were on the verge and paused, causing you to pout. "why did you stop..." you said, dissatisfied.

"you can't wait for it, can you, love?" she said as she brought her fingers to her mouth and sucked your juices off them, humming as she savored your taste. "be more patient, trust me, it will worth it".

She snaked her fingers around the hem of your panties, slowly pulling them off and tossing them somewhere in the room, but you couldn't have cared less.

"come here," she says pulling you on top of her, to which you obeyed, your bare pussy nestled against her lower abdomen. "Come sit on my face." She commanded, putting her hands on your hips and encouraging you to scoot up. You comply, adjusting yourself until your folds are hovering over her eager lips.

She pressed down on your hips, and with a swift motion she buried her face into your pussy, her tongue swirling against your folds, collecting every drop of your remaining wetness.

"Fuck... you taste so good," she moaned against you, her voice dripping with desire. She sucked loudly on your clit, watching as your eyes rolled back with ecstasy. You grind your hips against her mouth, grasping onto the headboard for support as your cries of pleasure grew louder and more intense when she increased her movements.

She placed her hands on the curve of your ass, guiding you up and down her tongue. Incoherent murmurs escaped your lips as she traced different patterns on your swollen bundle of nerves.

"Shane-" you cried out, your thighs already quivering under the ministrations of her skilled tongue on you. She hummed against your clit in response, enveloping her arms around your thighs to firmly keep you planted on her face.

"fuck, don't stop" you whine, your words blending together as she continues to fervently fuck you with her mouth. She skillfully manages to slip her fingers into the mess, a loud moan escaping your lips at the sudden intrusion.

Desperately searching for something to steady yourself, you grab a fistful of Shane's hair and pull it, causing her to moan into your pussy and the vibrations sent shivers down your spine.

"come on baby, cum for me." she coaxes as ecstatic moans and curses spill from your lips. "good girl, just like that" she commends. Your body convulses as white flashes blind you, everything around you vanishing and pure bliss overtakes your body.

You continue to ride out your high on Shane's face, your climax washing over you as she ensures to catch every last drop of your release. You quiver as she uses her tongue to clean you up.

You pull yourself off of her, settling yourself in the spot next to her. Both of you take a moment to catch your breath, sweat glistening down your features. "How 'bout we take a shower?" she suggests, leaning in towards you. "Sounds perfect." you smile, rising from the bed and starting to make your way to the bathroom on a confident demeanor. She lets out a chuckle at your eagerness, allowing you to take her hand and lead her to the bathroom.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

clic to read pt.2!

Guysss please let me know if you want a part 2 and I will happily write it! Hope you enjoyed and I am be very grateful for every repost, like or share you want to give.

(sorry again if there's any spelling or writing mistake)

#lesbian #lesbian pride #lgbtq #shane mccutcheon #the L word #shane mccutheon smut #shane the l word #l word generation q #shane l word #sapphic smut #wlw ns/fw #sapphic #sapphic ns/fw #wlw #lesbian shot #shane x y/n #lgbt nsft

[bones4thecats]

Could I request Poseidon, Thor, and Hades with a fortune teller s/o who is getting flak from her current customers because they don't like hearing the truth?

Type of Writing: Request Characters: Poseidon, Thor, and Hades Name: {Character} Helping Fortune Teller! S/O with Angry Customers Requester: Anonymous

A/N: This was a very unique request, and I have to give you props for making it so cute-sounding! I was actually thinking of the fortune teller from the classic Scooby-Doo show for some reason while writing this, lmao!

P.S: I had the reader be a mix of a nymph and God, since it seemed the most likely scenario for them to actually look at the reader in any way.

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🔱 He wasn't very amused with your actions at first, claiming the fact that you could see the future? You weren't a full-blooded God, how would you be able to do so?

🔱 Poseidon would normally watch you whenever he could through the magic-ball that you had given him, just so he could contact you during work if he was busy with some things

🔱 But, that day, he decided he wanted to see you in person, so, he walked out of his palace and through Valhalla until he came upon your small place of work in the nearby town

🔱 He froze when hearing the sounds of a glass ball breaking and he stormed inside, taking his trident and gripping it tightly as he walked around in search of you

🔱 When he heard the sounds of your yells against another man's, he burst the door down and pinned the man to the floor, his trident nearly piercing his neck

🔱 Everybody in Valhalla knew that you were his, but that didn't stop people from testing your patience and getting into quarrels once and a while

🔱 The man froze as you watched your husband press his trident more into the guy's neck as he avoided his question of what he was doing

" He couldn't accept the fact that his spouse was bound to cheat on him, so, he started a yelling match. I was about to take the ball and smash it over his damn head. "

🔱 Poseidon's glared darkened as the man sweat more and more, nobody ever experienced a glare this dark from the Tyrant of the Seas and survived to tell the tale

" Let him live, seeing him go through the fear of you, and go through the pain of his spouse being unfaithful kind of amuses me, my King. "

🔱 Your husband just sighed and de-summoned his trident before ordering the man to leave, causing him to scamper out in fear for his life

🔱 Nobody, not even fellow Gods, are allowed to mess with, nonetheless, threaten what was his, especially some puny mortal

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🌩️ Thor adores watching you work, seeing you hold people's hands, especially his cousin's and father's in your own and telling them what was bound to happen would make his eyes sparkle

🌩️ You were no full-blown God, rather, you were a mixture of nymph and God, with one parent being one and the other being the latter

🌩️ Whenever you were set for a customer, Thor would normally excuse himself to go training to do something work-related, he didn't like it when people invaded his privacy, why would he ignore that and do the same to them?

🌩️ He had just finished training when he was walking through your small shop to grab you to go home, but, when he saw a trench-coat and hat that had to belong to a man, he just sighed

🌩️ Thor knew you were faithful, but, seeing as you never notified him that you would be working late by leaving him a note on your desk, he felt that something was terribly wrong

🌩️ Hearing the sound of yelling, Thor stood up straight from his more slumped position and he immediately began to follow the noise

🌩️ Opening the door, he saw the supposed customer of your's yelling at you, accusing you of lying and ordering you to re-do his appointment and tell him the truth

🌩️ Thunder raged outside as the male lunged back from the force of lightning rushing through his body, causing you to stand up from your seat and run behind your husband

" What is this about? "

🌩️ Thor's voice was alarmingly low and threatening, sending more shocks of fear throughout your customer, he was even freaking you out a bit

" This guy, he keeps saying I was lying about his fortune. " " You are- "

🌩️ He was cut off with the threatening glare of the God of Thunder's, and he sat down on the ground, hiding himself behind his arms, and his silence alerted you to continue your explanation

" I told him his fortune, that his spouse was carrying but he'd lose the baby in infancy and his spouse would end up dying from complications, and after hearing that he went on a frenzy. "

🌩️ Telling you to grab your things, Thor pat your head as the male stayed pushed against the wall and the ground, and as you walked out of your office to grab your things, the sound of your husband's threats made your heart flutter, he may be a tough-person, but it's nice to know he loves you in his own unique way

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

💀 Hades admires your ability of seeing the future, and while many Deities at first believed you to be a mockery of their kind, since you were a mixture of nymph and God, he was the only one to actually voice his real feelings

💀 He adores watching you work, but, due to his role and yours, he nearly always had to work on something whenever you had an appointment

💀 But, whenever he had a break from work, he would go down to pick you up for a break or for your lunch, rarely if ever did he not come himself to pick you up

💀 Much like today, he was heading down Valhalla to take you home from work, since he got a letter from Zeus saying it was supposed to rain and thunder, according to their schedule, and he didn't want you walking in that weather home

💀 Walking inside and pulling in his umbrella, Hades looked around for a note saying you were working later than normal, but, since he wouldn't find one, he began strolling into the back, maybe you were to busy to write a note

💀 That all went out the window when he heard your strained voice yelling at someone, causing him to slam the door open and look around for you, you never yelled for no reason

💀 When his sight landed on your customer being surrounded by broken glass, he snapped in rage, he didn't care if he didn't hurt you, he tried to hurt you, and Hades does not give mercy to those who try hurting those he cares for

" Hades! Let him go! " " He tried harming you, love. Why should I let him go? "

💀 Letting the man down from the neck slowly, you held your husband back from him by locking your arms together. And that was when he demanded the man to leave, not caring to hear his reasons for attacking you

" My dear, grab your things, we are heading home now. I'm going to call my work to a halt for the rest of the day. "

#Record of Ragnarok #RoR #Shuumatsu no Valkyrie #SnV #RoR Greek Pantheon #RoR Norse Pantheon #Record of Ragnarok Gods #RoR Gods #Record of Ragnarok x Reader #RoR x Reader #Shuumatsu no Valkyrie x Reader #SnV x Reader #RoR Greek Pantheon x Reader #RoR Norse Pantheon x Reader #RoR Gods x Reader #Record of Ragnarok Gods x Reader #S/O! Reader #GN! Reader #RoR Poseidon #RoR Poseidon x Reader #RoR Thor #RoR Thor x Reader #RoR Hades #RoR Hades x Reader

[genericpuff]

Hello, brazilian anon here! So I have been following criticisms of LO for a while now, and Psyche and Eros caught my attention in special, because their relationship is legit a racist trope commonly applied to indigenous people: Woman of color is put in a arranged marriage or pressured into marrying a guy from her village/tribe but "falls in love" with a white dude who "saves" her from her abusive and "uncivilized" family. Think of Disney's Pocahontas. This trope is commonly used to dehumanize non-european/anglo-saxon cultures and portray them as barbaric, and is rooted in colonialism and its direct heir, imperialism, as a means for colonizers to justify and sugarcoat raping and forcing women of color to marry them. So not a good look for Rachel.

OH YEAH IT IS

(you just opened Pandora's Box by mentioning Pocahontas around me LMAO)

It's even more egregious when you consider how Rachel changed the original myth from Psyche undergoing trials on her own to her ... being turned into a nymph servant for Aphrodite. Like huh. Is that really your final draft, Rachel? Have you thought this through?

I made a very spicy post about this like a year and a half ago and honestly I think it's still worth talking about because it's incredibly telling that Psyche had her entire story uprooted and replaced with a version where she's transformed into a non-POC character to disguise herself as a servant to a woman who's already racist towards nymphs. It's got that issue of "take the black character and transform them into an animal/other being that isn't black so that we don't have to have a black character onscreen for more than 10 minutes."

And yeah, you can tell how much Rachel is absentmindedly taking from Disney without challenging what those stories were portraying or asking deeper questions to get to the heart of their messaging. Pocahontas is rightfully panned for being a very white-washed version of a story that was written in the blood shed by Native Americans at the hands of colonizers. "Pocahontas" herself, even, was not some independent native woman who fell in love with the "one good white guy" on the boat, she was a teenage girl, whose life was spared but made worse when she was forced to travel overseas to be used as a prop to justify their continued actions in murdering and colonizing the "savages" overseas; she was then forced into marriage and had to carry the children of her captors, all while being treated as an exotic spectacle by the people around her who would undoubtedly kill her at the first sign of disobedience.

Her name was Matoaka. Her life and story is not something that should be romanticized. It's a tragedy and much of what instigated it is still alive and well today. She only lived to be 21.

I don't know if Rachel intentionally referenced or ripped off Pocahontas in Lore Olympus the same way she clearly has with Hercules and Beauty and the Beast. But it's incredibly telling in how she treats the racial divide between nymphs and gods and how she's twisted the Eros x Psyche myth into what it is that even if she did watch Pocahontas, she probably never realized how problematic it is at its core in the way that it's told.

In the original myth, Psyche is a woman who's meant to represent the fickleness of vanity - the loneliness it can make one feel to be admired and not truly loved, and the destruction that can be brought about in jealousy - and her pursuit in finding genuine love in Eros, a journey she travels alone, thematically with the rest of the story.

In Lore Olympus, she's an illiterate woman of color whose only purpose is to be Eros' wife, robbed of all agency so that she can be a trophy for him to earn, a test for him to pass. It's boring and really icky when you really peel back the layers of it with Psyche's character design in mind. Even when she finally does get more agency in her task to bring down Apollo - or at the very least, keep an eye on him - it's still at the behest of Zeus who gives her immortality not as a reward for overcoming the trials she set out to pass, but so she can be his errand boy. So once again she's not capable of doing anything motivated by her own best interests (especially when she already knows how dangerous Apollo is, why is she the one who has to follow this guy around?)

So yeah, no, not a good look at all LMAO

#lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical #ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything

[thisismyhell]

With You, Safely (Part 2)

Author’s Note: Sooooo i posted part 1 like...perhaps 2 years ago. sorry for the wait lmao but here is part 2 (finally)! 

Summary: Hotch escorts you back to your hotel room after catching your stalker. You’re not sure you want him to leave, and he’s not sure he wants to leave you. Can he take care of you?

Warnings: SMUT!!! Minors dni!!! Penetrative sex, oral (both male and female receiving), 2 slaps (consensual), everything described is completely consensual and both characters ask permission to do everything :)

Part 1

Hotch had you in his arms and was about to place you down on the bed. “Tell me you’re certain about this” he muttered against your lips. You took his head in your hands, and holding his eye contact you whispered “please”.  He kissed you deeply before finally putting you down on the bed, his own weight on top of you immediately after. 

Making out with Hotch was wonderful and you were happy to feel his large hands begin to wander. He had one arm beside your head while the other traveled down your side and gripped your waist. You moaned into his mouth and reveled in his weight pinning you down. Hotch noticed your breath quicken and he began kissing your neck, then your chest, and then he used his fingers to test and see if you wanted to take off your shirt. You obliged, and he took it off for you gracefully. “This isn’t entirely fair you know”, he gave you a quizzical look before realizing what you meant. He looked down at you while loosened his tie before removing it, followed by unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it aside. “Better?” he asked, and you shook your head, “I’ve been through a lot in the past 24 hours, and I think you can do better than that for me”. Hotch’s face spread into a genuine smile and it made you swoon. You were laying on a massive king sized bed, watching this handsome FBI agent undress for you. Just for you. 

Once he had removed all his clothes for you, you reached your hand down to touch yourself. In one quick motion, Hotch slapped your hand out of the way and pinned it to your side. “You’ve been through a lot in the past 24 hours, and I think I can do better than that for you”, he spoke through his brood. You were silent, incredibly turned on by his control and throwing that joke back at you. While you both maintained eye contact, you watched as he kneeled on the ground and pulled you by under your thighs to be right at the end of the bed. His face was so close to where you wanted it, to where you needed it. 

“You’re so tense…why don’t you just relax honey, so I can take care of you”. You broke eye contact to lie back down, following his orders. You felt him laugh against your inner thigh, followed by sloppy kisses up and down your legs. You felt yourself beginning to squirm, and Hotch tightened his grip around your thighs. 

Hotch didn’t want you going anywhere, and he didn’t want you to lift a single finger either. He chose to stop teasing you and give in to you, not that it was a difficult choice. He kissed the top of you, then moved to making out with the rest. You began to moan quietly, and once Hotch developed a good rhythm, he inserted a finger. He felt you tighten and heard your moaning become louder, egging him on. He was hard against the bed, trying to stop himself from grinding too much. He wanted this to be about pleasuring you and didn’t want to even think about his own dick until he absolutely had to. 

You were so wet it was almost as loud as your moaning, Hotch was becoming obsessed with it, not wanting to stop this position. He inserted another finger, and then another, listening to his skin slap against yours. He felt you get tighter and tighter as he quickened his tongue on your clit.

“Oh god - oh my god, Hotch I-I’m so close…”,

Without stopping his pace, he broke away only briefly, “Sweetheart, call me Aaron”.

He returned to his actions, and went harder and harder until he felt his face become wetter. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry, I didn’t know I could do that-”, he cut you off with a slap against your pussy that made the bed even wetter, “don’t even think about apologizing”. 

You watched as he wiped his face with the back of his hand, motioning for you to move back up the bed. You didn’t budge, and he gave you another questioning look. You sat up on the bed and looked up at Aaron towering over you. What you wanted was at the perfect height, and you took him in your hand. He tried to move your hand away but once you gave the tip a hot wet kiss he relented. 

Aaron’s eyes rolled back in his head once he saw you with him in his mouth and your eyes looked up at him. He felt you reach behind him and grab his ass, even slapping him once. The slap caught him by surprise and his hips jolted, putting him deeper in your throat. You groaned around him, feeling his hair tickle your chin and nose. Aaron wanted nothing more than to watch you taking him like the good girl he knew you were, but if this continued he was afraid he wouldn’t last very long. 

“Sweetheart, sweetheart please. You’re being so good, but I’m not gonna last-”

You popped Aaron out of your mouth and let the drool fall onto the carpet as you kept your hand around him. The two of you were staring at each other, neither one of you wanting to move from this perfect position. 

“Y/n, please, please let me take care of you. I promise I can take care of you”.

Aaron’s efforts made you smile and groan at the same time. You let him go and moved up the bed watching him as he climbed over you. 

“Thank you y/n”. 

“Well lucky for you, I’m on the pill. And I need to feel you, all of you. Can you do that for me Aaron?”

He kissed you deeply, and nodded his head. You reach up and gripped his dark hair, “I need you to use your words, Aaron”. He blushed and answered, “Yes honey, I can do that for you”. Aaron began kissing you again and put his leg between yours. You let him grab your waist again while you grind yourself against him. Moving your head to be in his neck you began deeply inhaling his scent and biting his neck gently. 

Aaron could barely contain himself, and he was even blushing into the pillow as he felt you running yourself against his thigh. He could let you do this all night, but he knew what you wanted instead. He moved to be between your legs and pinned your wrists above your head. He realized you liked to be in control, and he wanted you to relent to this position so you could finally relax. 

You began to pout and Aaron almost backed off. But as he kept looking at you he became obsessed with the way your lips were puffed out and your cheeks were the cutest pink. Aaron grinned to himself and you began to pout even deeper, if that was possible. 

Once he had his fill of smiling down at you, he positioned himself just right so he could enter you. As he did, he touched your forehead with yours and you both moaned into each other. He was so much bigger than you thought, even when he was in your mouth he didn’t feel this big. 

He watched your face and waited for you to adjust before he managed to pull back almost all the way out, and then slapped back into you. He did this over and over, with his movements punctuated by the sound of your individual moans and the slap of skin against skin. Aaron was listening to how wet you were and could feel your legs begin to shake slightly. 

“That’s it sweetheart, finally letting go”. 

Aaron moved to hold your wrists just with one hand and brought the other to squish your cheeks, “come on baby, I know you can come for me. Come around my cock for me baby”. 

Feeling your whole body snap from inside yourself, your eyes rolled back as you came undone around Aaron. Even through your pleasure you could hear him consoling you, “that’s a good girl, that’s a good girl”. Consoling you did it for Aaron, and he came immediately after. 

Coming down from your high you felt Aaron finish inside of you and then release your face and hands. He turned you gently so you were laying on his chest, beginning to rub your naked back. Once you gained some more consciousness, you ran your open hand up and down his chest as well. Playing with his chest hair, you breathed him in again. 

Aaron kissed your forehead, “whenever you would like me to leave, just let me know-”

“Aaron, don't be ridiculous. I might get scared in the middle of the night and need you to protect me”. 

He giggled and pulled you closer, kissing your shoulders and smelling your hair.

#criminal minds imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader

[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

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[kyouka-supremacy]

The thing about how Atsushi deals with Akutagawa is. Atsushi has always been terrified of retailing against his oppressors: to him, his oppressors were always in positions of power that he found impossible to rebel against. Akutagawa, on the other hand, was the first person Atsushi met who was socially accepted to fight back against. Akutagawa was presented to him as the big bad guy, everyone's evil enemy. Atsushi's got personal beef with him for how he treated Kyouka (which is very important for Atsushi, because if he never had it within him to stand for himself, at least he can stand for others). The person Atsushi looks up to the most repeatedly and unapologetically mistreats Akutagawa. Then mistreating Akutagawa must be allowed, right?

It's truly remarkable how despite the guess one would take judging from their good side / evil side affilations, more often than not it's Atsushi going for Akutagawa's throat than the other way round. Sure, Akutagawa threatens to kill Atsushi all the time– but that's exactly the point‚ he never actually follows through‚ and his real actions actually end up telling us his intentions are quite the opposite (re: “I won't kill you today because you look miserable” *saves Atsushi's life* *saves Atsushi's life* *dies to save Atsushi's life*). On the contrary, Atsushi's ALWAYS trying to attack Akutagawa both verbally and physically. Remember that time in chapter 51 when Dazai was keeping them separate? Back then, Akutagawa very much wasn't the one actively trying to attack the other. Not to mention the “You fight 'cos you want to be feared– that's far more worthless in my book” and of course the “It's no wonder Dazai-san chose to abandon you and disappear”. There's even the “if a fight is what you want, then I'll take you on” like lmao, of course you will. The thing is, Atsushi has always found it socially acceptable to retail against, loathe, fight and hurt Akutagawa no-guilt-attached like he never had the chance to with any other abuser. Please keep in mind how thanks to Dead Apple we know that the only other time Atsushi ever fought back someone who was hurting him, it was a most instinctive and involuntary reaction that ended up with him killing them and which gave him several trauma and unresolved self-hatred and feeling of guilt for life.

But hurting Akutagawa, that's peer approved. And it sounds quite cruel, and Atsushi is a fundamentally selfish character, yet it must have come off as so refreshing and even liberating for him to finally have someone he can openly hate, someone he could drop the facade of the polite, harmless guy in front of. That's why I can actually find it believable that Atsushi would, very subconsciously, look forward to fight against Akutagawa; as a way to let off steam, you know? A chance to finally stop acting and start behaving like his true self, determined, brave, protective, a bit of a prick. Not to mention, fights against Akutagawa seemingly always end up as a self-esteem boosts for Atsushi in a way or the other. That's why I wonder: if Akutagawa is the only person Atsushi can be himself with, if he's the only one he can act natural around without feeling he has to put up a front for; what about when Atsushi will stop hating him? Which doesn't sound that unlikely, I mean, after chapter 88 and everything. I'm not saying he's going to forgive Akutagawa for everything he's ever done but like... The perception Atsushi has of him must have changed to an extent, his judgement shifted at least a tiny bit. Then, Atsushi will be left with only one person he can freely be himself with, and he doesn't even hate him that much anymore. Just thinking about that.

#ryūnosuke akutagawa #atsushi nakajima #sskk #shin soukoku #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd analysis #my analysis #mine #q. #16/01/23 #It's kind of fun how in bsd‚ compared to quite all the other shonen series‚ the protagonist's assigned rival made much more pep talks- #to the protagonist than the other way round‚ while the protagonist is shown insulting his rival more often than not. #It's quite the compelling twist if I dare say