#and it's enough of a monster post already

[yogirl-willow]

The Crimson Pact | Part 4

Characterizations | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5

SoulBond!AU

Pairings: Yandere!Saja Boys x F!Reader

Synopsis: You were never supposed to remember them.

Four hundred years ago, a pact was made—a blood-soaked bond tying five demons to one human soul: yours.

They’ve waited lifetimes for your reincarnation, cursed with obsession, tethered by fate.

And now that you’ve returned?

They’ll burn the world before they let you go again.

Warnings: Soul bond with the Saja Boys, Yandere themes!, obsessive behavior / possessiveness, romantic psychological tension, mentions of implied past death / reincarnation, intense emotional fixation, yearning, dark romance, hurt/comfort

A/N: Another chapter for my lovely readers! Thank you for the support! I hope you enjoy this one. <3 I'll also be cross-posting to AO3 now that this chapter is written.

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

The Saja boys are all demons.

They are wrath and ruin. Jealousy and death.

And yet, before her, they kneel.

Because she is the Heart. Because her soul is what keeps them from unraveling into true monsters. Because they were bound by her love and her curse.

They don’t just crave her—they depend on her. Without her presence, their minds deteriorate. Their bodies decay. Their hunger becomes unbearable.

Only Y/N’s touch tames the demon inside.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Part 4:

What They Would Give

The dream was silk and shadow.

Gold candlelight flickered across paper walls. A bipa hummed in the distance, low and mournful, each note a whisper from another life. Your bare feet pressed against cold stone floors, hem of your hanbok brushing the ground as you moved silently through the eastern wing of the palace. You knew this place. Knew every turn, every tile, every secret door the nobles thought you were too stupid to notice.

But you weren’t stupid. And he always knew that.

“Yeobo,” a voice breathed behind you—low, reverent, broken. You turned.

Jinu stood beneath the moonlight, hair tied back, royal silks stained with dirt. His face was young—so achingly young—but those eyes held lifetimes. They always had.

He reached for you, and when you didn’t flinch, his hand cupped your cheek like you were something made of music and prayers. “You shouldn’t be here.”

You smiled, teasing, like always. “Neither should you.”

He laughed softly. God, that sound.

“Did they find out?” you asked, voice quieter now. “About us?”

His silence was answer enough.

The dream shifted. You were in his private room now, tucked between scrolls and incense and the scent of him. He knelt beside you, watching as you dabbed the scrape on his hand.

“I’m not worth the blood you spill,” you whispered once. And he had looked at you like you’d torn open the sky. “Don’t say that.”

“Then don’t let them hurt you for me.”

Another shift. Rain pounded against palace tiles. The smell of smoke. The wail of women in the distance. He held you against his chest—his heartbeat frantic as yours slowed.

“Stay awake,” he begged.

But the poison was already in your lungs. You tried to speak, to tell him you weren’t afraid. That it wasn’t his fault. But all that came out was blood. And he had screamed your name like it would call your soul back.

The dream cracked.

You stood in the palace courtyard now. Alone. Wind howling. Your breath fogged before you. A mirror rippled in the dark—a still pool once used by concubines for beauty rituals.

You stepped forward. Looked in. And saw him.

Not Jinu.

Not exactly.

His face was his, but darker. Skin a cold hue of purple or blue- you couldn’t tell. Patterns twisted across his neck and flawless face like vines. They glowed a faint violet. His eyes—black and gold, molten and endless. Clawed hands. No blood on them—but you knew there had been. His silks were gone, replaced by flowing black garments that moved like smoke.

He looked up at you. And he smiled.

You screamed.

And woke up. Gasping, drenched in sweat, your sheets tangled around you like vines. Your breath came in sharp bursts. Faint morning light filtered through the blinds, soft against the sheen on your skin.

What the hell was that?

The memories weren’t yours. Couldn’t be yours. You’d never worn a hanbok. At least, not since you were a little girl. Never kissed Jinu beneath the stars or held his trembling hands in a candlelit room. So why did it feel more real than anything else in your life?

You sat up, pressing a shaking hand to your chest. Then—

Knock, knock. Your head snapped toward the door. A voice. Gentle. Familiar. 

“Y/N?” Jinu.

You swallowed, heart still pounding. “I… I’m fine,” you said. Too fast. Too high.

Silence.

Then, “Alright. If you need anything… I’m right outside.”

You exhaled. Slowly. A beat passed. Your hand stayed pressed over your chest. But your thoughts drifted back—not to the kiss, or the palace, or even the blood.

No.

They stayed on that reflection. The patterns. The eyes.

Was that Jinu?

And more terrifying—

Why aren’t you scared of him?

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You padded into the kitchen wrapped in silence and Jinu’s hoodie.

The boys were already there—some seated, some standing—bathed in morning sunlight and the smell of eggs and something sweet. Pancakes maybe? Abby was at the stove, flipping something with surprising delicacy. Baby lounged in the corner seat, head resting lazily against the glass. Mystery sat curled up in his seat like a housecat, eating fruit with his fingers. Romance leaned against the counter, cradling a mug like it was a stage prop he was dramatically rehearsing with.

And Jinu—

Jinu sat at the head of the table, reading a folded newspaper like he hadn’t held you for hours last night, lips pressed against your forehead while your body trembled in remembrance. Before sleep had taken you into that haunting dream.

His eyes flicked up when you entered. “Morning,” he said softly.

You nodded. “Morning.”

You could feel it—the heat of their gazes, the air shifting around you like invisible fingers brushing your skin. There was a gentleness in their posture. A quietness. But also… something else.

Caution.

They were being careful with you. Too careful.

You sat down in the seat Mystery scooted out for you. His cheek brushed your arm and he inhaled like he was starved for it. Your heart did a small, weird flutter. You avoided Jinu’s eyes.

Did they know? Did they see? They were demons. They probably felt it. The bond. The kiss.

Your face burned as you accepted a plate from Abby, who set it down with too much force. His eyes flicked to your neck for half a second before looking away. You could feel the tension rippling through his shoulders.

Oh god. They did know.

Romance was the first to speak. Of course he was. “Sleep well, sweetheart?” he purred, voice warm and slippery. “You look flushed.”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, stabbing your pancake with unnecessary aggression. “Just hot.”

“Hmm,” he said with a smirk, “I bet you are.”

You flinched. They definitely knew.

Your thoughts spiraled. One kiss. Just one. You didn’t even mean for it to happen. But now— Were you supposed to kiss them all? Were they expecting that? Were they mad?

A clatter drew your eyes—Baby had dropped his fork. He didn’t pick it up. Just stared at you, elbow on the table, jaw resting against his hand. His black eyes flicked down to your mouth.

You quickly looked away.

“I didn’t mean—” you blurted, then froze. “I mean. I… I don’t know what I’m doing. With any of this. With you. With the bond.”

A pause. And then Jinu spoke—gentle, but unshakeable. “You don’t have to do anything.”

You blinked.

“You don’t owe us anything,” he added, folding his paper. “The bond… it’s not a leash. It’s a thread. You pull when you’re ready.”

Mystery leaned against your side, nuzzling your shoulder. “We’ll wait,” he whispered, voice soft. “We always do.”

Romance tilted his head, smiling faintly—but there was something sharper beneath it. “We’ll be patient. But not passive. We still want you to choose us.”

Abby sat beside you, jaw tense. “You don’t have to split yourself up,” he muttered. “You don’t have to kiss anyone until you want to. Really want to.”

You stared down at your plate. Your hands shook. “I don’t want to hurt anyone,” you whispered. “It’s just… too much. Too fast.”

“No one’s hurt,” Jinu said. “We’ve waited four hundred years. We can wait a little longer.”

“You’re not gonna disappear again,” Mystery whispered, holding the edge of your sleeve like he was afraid you might.

“And when you do come to us,” Romance added with a sly glint, “we’d prefer it if it’s because you’re burning for us. Not because you feel guilty.”

You swallowed. Baby’s voice was last to join, quiet but absolute. “We’ve already had your soul. We want your heart now. The rest… can come later.”

You stared at them. Five monsters. Five men. All of them impossibly patient. All of them aching. And still willing to wait for you to fall in love again.

Your throat tightened. You nodded. “Thank you.”

Romance lifted his mug. “Anytime, darling.”

Baby smiled faintly. Abby grunted. Mystery purred. And Jinu just watched you with the softest expression you’d ever seen. 

You took a bite of the pancakes Abby had stacked on your plate and paused. Your eyes widened. “Wait… these are actually good.”

Abby raised a brow. “What do you mean actually?”

Sheepishly, you stabbed another forkful. “I just didn’t expect a demon to know how to make pancakes.”

He scoffed, flicking batter from the spatula. “I’ve been alive for centuries. You think I wouldn’t know how to scramble an egg or flip a damn pancake?”

Romance leaned in, chin on his palm. “He’s particularly good with his hands, if you’re wondering.”

You choked. “I’m not—”

“I have a very diverse skillset,” Abby interrupted smugly. You rolled your eyes—but your smile faltered. Because just then, the warmth of the kitchen, the golden sunlight on the tile, the smell of syrup and coffee—it all fell away.

You remembered silk. And blood. And a flicker of something with glowing eyes staring back at you in a polished palace floor. Your fork paused halfway to your lips. “Hey… can I ask you something?”

All of them stilled. Jinu looked up from his mug. “Of course.”

Your voice dropped, uncertain. “Last night. I saw something. In my dream. It was… dark. I think it was you. But not you.”

Jinu’s fingers tightened slightly around his cup. The others were still. Tense. “I think… I saw your demon form,” you said softly.

Romance’s smile vanished. Mystery immediately tucked himself tighter against your side. Baby stared at you, silent and unmoving, his gaze like ice.

You looked around the table. “I just… What are you? What do you look like?”

For a long moment, no one spoke. Then Jinu sighed. “We’re not hiding anything from you.”

“We just…” Abby scratched the back of his neck. “We’re not exactly cuddly in those forms.”

“She’d still like me,” Mystery mumbled into his fruit.

“You don’t know that,” Abby grunted.

“I do.”

“We literally glow purple and get creepy marks all over our face—”

“She thinks they’re cool!”

“Your eyes turn gold like a cursed cat, bro.”

“She likes cats!”

“Boys,” Jinu said firmly, not looking up from his tea. They went quiet instantly. He turned back to you. “We will show you. In time.”

Romance’s voice was softer than usual. “You’ve already seen us in your dreams. But dreams are hazy. Romantic. We’re… not.”

“We don’t want to scare you,” Jinu said.

“I’m not scared,” you said too quickly.

Five sets of eyes landed on you at once. You shrank a little in your seat. “Okay. Maybe a little.”

Romance smiled sadly. “We’d rather you see us when you’re ready. When the bond is strong enough that you feel what we are before you ever have to see it.”

Jinu reached for your hand gently. “When you’re ready,” he said again. “And when you are… we’ll show you. All of us.”

You swallowed. Nodded. And returned to your pancakes, even though they didn’t taste quite as sweet anymore.

After breakfast, you’re slipping on your coat when a warm hand wraps gently around your wrist. You turn—and Jinu’s already pulling you into the hallway beside the kitchen, just out of view of the others.

“Jinu?” you ask, heartbeat stuttering. His touch isn’t rough. But it isn’t something you can ignore either. He says nothing for a moment. Just watches you in the soft light. His gaze flickers to your lips, then to your throat, then back to your eyes.

“I heard you wake up around five,” he says, voice low. “Your breathing changed.”

You blink. “You… heard me?”

“I always hear you.” His thumb brushes over your wrist, tender. Like he’s memorizing the pulse there. “Even in my sleep.”

Your cheeks flush, and for a second you look down—but Jinu lifts your chin with two fingers. “You didn’t come out of the room,” he says. “Did the dream scare you?”

You hesitate.

“It’s okay,” he adds, gentler now. “You don’t have to tell me. I just… wanted to see you before you left.”

“I’m fine,” you whisper. “Really.”

His eyes narrow like he doesn’t quite believe you—but he lets it go. For now. “I just needed to know,” he murmurs, stepping closer, “that you didn’t regret last night.”

Your breath catches.

Jinu’s face is barely an inch from yours now. His voice is like velvet wrapped in steel. “Because if you did… I’d find a way to make you forget the regret. I’d replace it with something else.”

You don’t move. Can’t.

His hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing your skin like it’s sacred. “I know I said I’d go slow,” he says, head tilting, “and I will. But when you kissed me—Y/N, I’ve waited four hundred years to feel that again. If you ever change your mind… just know I won’t stop you next time.”

Your heart slams against your ribs. And then—he leans forward. But he doesn’t kiss your lips. His lips graze your forehead, soft, reverent.

A mark. A brand. A promise. When he pulls back, his smile is small—but there’s fire behind it.

“Be careful out there,” Jinu says, brushing a loose hair from your face. “Don’t talk to anyone who looks at you too long.”

You raise a brow. “Is that a threat?”

“No,” he says softly. “It’s a warning. For their sake.” And then he lets you go.

But as you step out the front door, you feel it: his gaze burning into your back like a tether. Like he’s already counting the seconds until you return.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The morning air nipped at your cheeks as you walked beside Abby down the sleepy Seoul street. The hem of your coat brushed your knees, and your fingers were wrapped tight around the coffee Abby insisted you hold—even if you were about to clock into a café that sold twenty variations of the same drink.

“I still don’t get why you have to work here,” Abby muttered for the third time this morning, tugging the strap of your bag higher on your shoulder like it offended him. “You should be sleeping in. Eating fruit someone peeled for you. Or being worshipped. Like a normal girl.”

You glanced up at him. “A normal girl?”

“Well, a normal soulbound girl. Obviously.”

You snorted. “Not helping your argument.”

He didn’t laugh. Just walked closer, his frame blocking the wind like a personal fortress.

At the café, he waited until you stepped safely inside before crossing his arms and glaring through the glass like the windows were one sneeze away from shattering. You pretended not to notice.

By midmorning, the scent of caramel and burnt espresso clung to your skin, and the line was a manageable trickle. Mystery had popped in an hour ago to leave a pack of honey biscuits on the counter (“In case you didn’t eat enough.”) and Baby had passed by too—not entering, just lingering outside like a ghost in the reflection of the glass. You couldn’t be sure, but you thought he was watching your manager. You tried not to think about it.

Then, of course, there was Romance.

He swept in at 11:47, in sunglasses and smugness, murmuring something about how coffee tastes better when you're watching the love of your life make it. You’d rolled your eyes and told him to sit in the corner and stop causing a scene. He winked and obeyed.

Everything was going smoothly.

Until it wasn’t.

The bell above the café door jingled sharply—and something inside you prickled. The new customer wasn’t odd at first glance: young, tall, dressed like a college student. But there was something off. Something in the way he looked around the café, not like a customer, but like he was searching.

You stiffened. Then he looked directly at you—and smiled. Your stomach dropped.

He walked to the counter, but didn’t order. Just leaned in a little too close. “Y/N, right?” he asked.

You blinked. “Do… do I know you?”

“Nah,” he said. “But I know you. Been seeing your name around. Cute face, too. You’ve got fans, you know.”

Something about his voice scraped at your nerves. You took a small step back. “Sorry, you’ll have to order something if you’re not here to—”

“You smell different than I expected,” he said suddenly, nostrils flaring. “Sweeter. Almost... too sweet.”

Your blood ran cold. He wasn’t human. Before you could say another word, a deep growl split the air. And then Abby was there.

You didn’t see the door open. Didn’t hear him enter.

But suddenly, your coworker was shoved behind the counter, Romance was standing from his corner seat with eyes glowing faintly gold—and Abby had the stranger by the collar, slammed against the nearest wall with a crash that rattled the syrup bottles.

“You have five seconds,” Abby snarled, voice low and rumbling, “to explain why a low-tier, trashborn demon thought it was smart to walk within ten feet of her.”

The stranger choked on his breath, writhing under the hold. “I didn’t—I was just curious—! The scent—she’s—”

“You looked at her,” Abby snapped. “You spoke to her.”

“She doesn’t even know what she is—!” The air changed. Abby’s eyes darkened. Not just with anger. With promise. He leaned in, and his voice was a whisper made of knives.

“Then let me teach you what I am.”

The café was silent. Your coworkers frozen. Romance stepped between you and the others like a shield, hand on your lower back.

“Close your eyes, baby,” he murmured.

“Abby,” you called—panicked now. “Abby, stop.”

And maybe it was your voice that pulled him back. Or maybe it was the fact that the stranger was already whimpering, nose bloodied, eyes wide with terror.

Abby let him go. The demon crashed to the floor, wheezing. “Leave,” Abby said. “Before I finish what I started.”

The demon scrambled, vanished out the door with supernatural speed. And still Abby stood there, fists clenched, chest heaving. His eyes scanned your face. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, throat tight. “Yeah. I think so.”

Romance brushed your hair back, but didn’t smile. “You’re not supposed to be seen. Not like that. Word’s spreading.”

“I’m… sorry,” you mumbled.

Abby looked like he wanted to punch something else. “Not your fault.”

Romance’s jaw tightened. “We’ll talk later.”

But something was clear now. Crystal clear. You weren’t safe. Even here.

And the boys? They’d burn the world to make sure you were.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The boys don’t notice them, but Huntrix watches.

Perched across the street from the café, tucked behind a rusted bus stop, Zoey chews on her gum like it’s the last sin in Seoul. 

They see it all. Abby bursting into the café without a sound. Romance standing from his seat like a prince with knives in his mouth. Y/N, frozen in confusion and fear, wide-eyed behind the counter.

And then it happens. Abby slams another demon against the wall so hard the menu board rattles. Mira’s hand twitches toward her weapon on instinct—but she doesn’t move.

“She’s… still with them,” Mira says tightly, eyes fixed on the scene.

“Not just with them,” Zoey mutters. “They’re protecting her.”

“No,” Mira says, trying to convince herself. “They’re using her. Shielding their asset.”

Zoey shakes her head, frowning. “Then why did he just attack another demon? That guy wasn’t even hostile. Just sniffing around.”

“She’s human,” Rumi says softly, still watching. “I’ve scanned her three times. She’s not cursed. Not altered. No patterns. She’s… just a girl.”

“So why are five demons orbiting her like she’s the goddamn sun?” Zoey exclaims.

None of them answer.

Inside the café, the tension breaks. The intruder flees. Abby stays between Y/N and the rest of the world like her bodyguard—or her beast. They watch Romance reach for her shoulder. 

They’re not acting. They’re not pretending. This isn’t manipulation. It’s something far more dangerous.

“They care about her,” Rumi says finally. “Or… they think they do.”

Mira scoffs. “Demons don’t care. They hunger. They cling to whatever they’re trying to own.”

Rumi stays silent. But her hands are white-knuckled inside her sleeves, fists clenched so tight they tremble. Because she’s seen something the others haven’t. A memory she wasn’t supposed to find.

Tucked deep in the bottom of a chest meant to stay locked—a yellowed letter, written in ink faded with age and smudged by something darker. She found it years ago, back when she was still trying to piece together who her mother really was. A letter written in a language she’d never been taught, yet somehow… understood.

A demon’s handwriting. The words bled longing. Grief. Worship. She remembered reading the last line over and over: “If I burn for you, let me burn.”

Celine never talked about it. When Rumi asked about her mother, Celine only told her the same thing every time: “She was a hunter. A good one. Until she got too close to what we kill.”

Back then, Rumi believed her. She had to. Celine saved her. Raised her. Trained her. Taught her to never trust a demon’s smile or a monster’s promise. But now…

Now she watches Abby hover by Y/N’s side, tension rippling under his skin every time a customer raises their voice at her. She watches Romance hover near like he’s her loyal shadow. She saw Jinu the other day—calm, regal, protective—glance at the girl like she’s a prayer he’s still waiting to be answered.

It doesn’t make sense. Demons don’t protect humans. Demons don’t get soft eyes and careful hands. Demons don’t love.

Except… maybe they do.

Jinu once told her—in one of their secret meetings, just the two of them, when she let her guard slip for one second—“Demons feel. Some of us wish we didn’t.”

She thought it was a line. Another ploy. But watching him now… watching them… She wonders if it was the truth. And if it is—if demons can really feel like this—then maybe her mother hadn’t been weak. Maybe she hadn’t been tricked. Maybe she’d been in love.

And maybe what terrifies Rumi the most is the look on Y/N’s face when the boys are near. Because it looks like recognition. It looks like longing. It looks… mutual.

And for the first time in her life, Rumi is unsure of everything she was taught to fight for.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Back at the apartment, the mood was sharp—too sharp.

The moment the front door closed behind you, the air thickened like static before a lightning strike. The boys didn’t say anything at first. They just stared. Watched you kick off your shoes, shrug off your coat. Watched the way your hands shook slightly when you went to pour water into a glass.

Then Romance stepped forward. “You need to quit,” he said.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Your job,” Jinu added, arms crossed. “It’s too dangerous now.”

You laughed, but it came out awkward and dry. “You’re all being dramatic. It wasn’t that serious—Abby handled it. I was fine.”

Abby stiffened beside you, jaw clenched. Jinu’s expression didn’t move.

“It’s the second time,” Mystery said quietly from the corner, curled on the windowsill. Your stomach dropped. “What?”

“Two days ago,” Baby murmured, arms folded and expression unreadable. “There was demon scent on the café’s back door. We didn't tell you. We thought it was just a scout.”

“I confirmed it,” Jinu said. “He was watching you. You never saw him.”

Romance’s eyes darkened, gold flickering like candlelight. “And now one tries to make contact in broad daylight. You think that’s nothing?”

You looked between them, suddenly very, very aware of how much you hadn’t been told.

“You’re not safe there,” Jinu said firmly. “Not when we can’t be around every second.”

You bristled. “Okay, but you are around. Literally all the time. I feel like I’ve got an army shadowing me every shift—”

“Because you do,” Baby said bluntly. “And it’s still not enough.”

You blink at him. “So I just… give up my life?”

Romance softens instantly, like he’s pulling back on a leash. “What he means is—we don’t want to see anything happen to you. That café’s a risk. You’re vulnerable there. You don’t need to be.”

You hesitate. And then—click—your mind makes a connection. Their protectiveness. Their control. And something that never quite sat right with you.

You lift your eyes. “...What happened to Jae?”

The question silences the room. Romance doesn’t miss a beat. He smiles gently. “Ah. The guy from the club?”

“Yeah,” you say. “He was weird, but you didn’t have to—what did you even do to him?”

“Nothing permanent,” Romance says smoothly.

Your gaze sharpens. “Romance.”

He smiles too easily, all charm and warmth stretched over something colder. “I offered him a very friendly warning. Abby may have been more… direct.”

You narrow your eyes. “Is he okay?”

Romance tilts his head, fake-thinking. “He probably won’t remember anything. A touch of glamour and a sprained wrist. Maybe a dislocated ego.”

You stare harder. “That’s not funny.”

“But it’s true,” he counters, smile curling. “And effective. He won’t bother you again.”

There’s a glint in his eye—something too smooth, too polished. Manipulation wrapped in silk.

“You’re lying,” you murmur. The air shifts.

“I told you,” Abby growls, stepping forward. “He touched you.” 

You glance at his clenched fists. “What did you do to him?”

“He doesn’t matter,” Abby says flatly. “He was going to hurt you. I saw it. I felt it.”

“That’s not your call to make!”

“Everything about you is my call,” he growls. “Because I’ll do what you won’t. I’ll cross the lines. So you don’t have to.”

Your breath catches. You suddenly realize how close Abby is and the intensity of his stare.

“Okay,” Jinu says tightly. “Enough.”

Romance straightens his collar. “Let Abby calm her down. She’s overwhelmed.”

Jinu doesn’t argue. He just nods once at Abby and you sigh, letting Abby’s large frame usher you to your room. You wanted to have a word with him in private anyways.

Once the door was firmly shut, the four shared a knowing look with each other in the livingroom. 

“She won’t quit on her own,” Romance says.

Jinu doesn’t respond. He’s staring out the window, pensive.

“She thinks it’s her choice. That’s adorable,” Romance continues with a bitter smile. “But this situation—it’s pulling demons to her like flies. They’ve always been curious, but now that they know where she is and that she’s real.” Romance sneers. “Their curiosity is going to kill them. And every one of them is a threat.”

Mystery’s eyes narrow. “You want to scare her.”

“No,” Romance says smoothly. “I want to guide her. Nudge her toward the life she deserves. One where she’s surrounded by people who love her more than air.”

“And you’ll decide how that looks?” Jinu’s voice is quiet. Dangerous.

Romance’s expression darkens just slightly. “You saw her a minute ago. She’s already cracking. All I’m doing is accelerating the inevitable.”

Baby finally speaks, voice a low echo: “What do you want us to do?”

Romance’s smile returns—cold and wicked. “Nothing direct. Just… let the pieces fall. Let the café fall apart.”

Jinu sighs and turns. “No fire.”

“No blood,” Mystery adds. “She wouldn’t like that.”

Romance raises a hand, smug. “Of course not. I’m not stupid. She’ll leave on her own. And when she does…” His gaze sharpens. “She’ll see that we’re the only constant.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Abby shuts the bedroom door behind him. Not with a slam—but with finality. 

You don’t resist when he gently guides you toward the bed. He doesn’t say much at first. Just pulls you into his arms, into the warmth of his chest like it’s instinct. You don’t know if he means to, but his grip is tight. Fierce. His hand curls around the back of your head, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he blinks too long.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” he mutters.

“I know,” you whisper. You gaze at his arms that were wrapped tightly around you- the ones he’d use to inflict whatever violence necessary for your sake. Your eyes trail up his muscled limbs to his broad shoulders. There was a moment of silence before you spoke. 

“I don’t get it,” you whisper. “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

“This…” You wave your hand vaguely. “Overprotective. Overbearing. Intense. It’s like you can’t breathe unless I’m under lock and key.”

“I can’t,” he says. Your heart skips. His voice is quiet. No teasing. No growl. Just truth. “I can’t breathe when you’re not safe.”

You stare at him.

“I don’t know how to do this slow,” Abby says. “I try, I swear I do. Jinu says wait. Mystery whines when I get too close. Baby glares like he’ll gut me if I scare you. But I see you, and all I wanna do is keep you close. Wrap you in my arms and keep every bad thing away. Rip this world apart if it even thinks of touching you.”

You don’t know what to say, so he keeps going. 

“I wasn't always like this. Wasn’t always... this thing you see now.”

You shift slightly in his arms, but his hold keeps you anchored. He exhales sharply and looks away. Not because he’s ashamed—because the memory still burns. Your heart tugs at the expression on his beautiful face. Tortured. Pained.

“Two hundred fifty years ago,” he begins, “I was a general. Loyal to the court. Feared on the battlefield. A war dog for men in silk robes who never dirtied their hands.” You feel his fingers twitch against your back, like he’s gripping a blade only he can see.

“I bled for them. Killed for them. And the moment I became inconvenient, they left me to die in the mud. A spear through my gut. My men gone. My name forgotten.” His jaw tightens. You can hear the snarl he’s holding back.

“I would’ve died. But I begged. Not to the heavens—because the heavens never answered me. I begged whatever thing was listening in the dark.” He turns his face, voice like ash. “And Gwi Ma answered.” He’s silent for a beat. Your breath catches.

“I didn’t die,” he says bitterly. “But I wasn’t human anymore either.” You feel his body tense beneath you as he continues, slower this time. “I wandered. Fed on pain. Destroyed anything that looked like mercy. Until I collapsed outside a village. Thought maybe I’d die for real.”

He goes still. “And then you found me.”

Your heart stutters. His voice goes softer. Fragile, like something made of glass. “You were a healer. Young. Too good. Too gentle. You knew I wasn’t right. You saw the glow in my eyes, felt the heat in my skin—but you stayed anyway.”

Your throat tightens. “You stitched my wounds. You made me soup. You made me laugh. And I didn’t even remember how.”

His voice breaks. “You reminded me I used to be human. I think… you made me want to be one again.”

You say nothing. Just hold onto him tighter and let him tell you the story of how he came to be this way. You wished you remembered- like last night with Jinu. You wished you could share his pain.

“When bandits came, I snapped. I didn’t even think. I just—protected you. The village. Everyone.” A pause. “But I lost control. The fire… it spread.”

Your blood goes cold.

“You died in my arms, Y/N. Crying. You told me you weren’t afraid. That you knew I tried to protect you.” He swallows. “But that doesn’t matter. Because I still killed you.”

You feel his hand press flat against your back like he could memorize the shape of you all over again. He tilts his forehead to yours, voice raw and trembling. 

“I’d die a thousand times before I ever let that happen again.” Abby’s voice is barely a whisper. “And so I’m sorry… if you think I’m too much. I just—” He swallows hard, jaw trembling. “I can’t bear the thought of failing you again. Of standing by while the world takes you from me a second time.”

His hand moves to your cheek, thumb brushing under your eye like he’s memorizing every freckle, every blink. “I’ve spent centuries reliving that moment,” he murmurs. “Centuries regretting every second I didn’t hold you tighter. Protect you harder. Love you more.”

You feel the weight in his touch—the devotion that borders on madness. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing anchoring him to the world.

And maybe you are.

His arms are still wrapped around you. His heartbeat loud against your ear. You feel his chest rise and fall—deep, like he’s trying to calm a storm. There’s a long silence before he speaks again, voice low against your hair.

“…There’s something I want you to know,” he murmurs. “My name. My real one. From before.”

You lift your head, eyes searching his. He looks almost… shy. No—vulnerable. Like this is the final part of himself he’s never dared to offer.

“I wasn’t always ‘Abby.’ That’s just a stage name. I find it kind of funny actually” He chuckles lightly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. 

You nod gently, your hand resting against his bare chest. “So tell me,” you whisper.

He swallows. “It was Haneul,” he says. “That was my name, when I was still human.”

Haneul. The sound lingers on your tongue like silk and smoke. You let it roll in your mouth before saying it aloud:

“…Haneul.”

He shudders.

It’s so soft, the reaction—so raw. His grip tightens around you instinctively. His lips part like you just breathed life into him. “Say it again,” he whispers. “Please. Say it again.”

You lean in, brushing your lips to his cheek. “Haneul.”

A sharp breath escapes him. His eyes flutter shut, lashes trembling. You kiss the corner of his eye, your voice barely audible.

“Haneul.”

He exhales like he’s unraveling, hands fisting into your waist to keep himself steady. To keep you close. Like the name is both breaking him and putting him back together.

You kiss the other cheek, so softly he nearly flinches from how much it hurts. “Haneul.”

And then—just before your lips meet his—you say it again. For him. Only him.  

“Haneul.”

He snaps.

Abby—Haneul—surges forward and devours you in a kiss. It’s not gentle. It’s not tame. It’s a claiming, centuries in the making. His mouth slants over yours with aching hunger, hands pulling you into his lap like you belong there, like you’ve always belonged there.

You do.

And he kisses you like your voice saying his name was the only salvation left in the world. And maybe��� maybe it was. He groans against your mouth, like the feel of you hurts.

His hands tremble as they cradle your face, your neck, your back—as if he still doesn’t believe you’re real. You feel his restraint—barely holding himself back, like if he slips for even a second, he’ll ruin everything. But it’s all so gentle. Worshipful. Like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he loves you too hard.

His shirt comes off in a rush of movement, as if it was the last thing keeping him distant. You press your palms to his bare chest—warm, solid, steady—and he shudders beneath your touch.

He lowers you both to the bed again, but this time you’re tangled together. Your legs brush. His skin grazes yours and he gasps like it burns in the best way.

He leans in, lips brushing your throat. He murmurs your name there like a prayer. Like a curse. Like a lifeline.

“I’ll never let anyone touch you,” he whispers, breath hot. “I don’t care who I have to kill. I don’t care if the world calls me a monster. If it means keeping you safe, I’ll be all of it.”

You feel your heart trip over itself. It should scare you. But it doesn’t. Because when he looks at you, when he touches you like this… it doesn’t feel like obsession. It feels like truth.

Your fingers slide into his hair, clutching like he’s the only thing holding you together. He leans into your touch like he’s starving for it.

“Say you forgive me,” he chokes. “Say I’m not too late.”

You meet his gaze—and it’s everything. Burning. Desperate. Holy. And so full of ruinous love it steals the air from your lungs.

“You’re not too late,” you whisper, voice cracking. “I’m here.”

And Abby—no, Haneul.

Haneul lets out a sound you’ve never heard from him before. A small, broken thing. A sob and a breath all at once. Then he kisses you again—deeper, slower, like the world’s ending and this is the only moment that matters. His hands press into your waist like he’s grounding himself there. Like you are his redemption. His punishment. His salvation. And for the first time in centuries… Haneul lets himself believe he might deserve to hold you again.

Your fingers ghost over his chest, and he shivers. The planes of his body are carved like stone beneath your hands, warm and trembling under your touch—as if you’re something sacred, something he never thought he’d feel again.

Your lips part from his only to trail down the sharp line of his jaw, to the tense muscle of his neck. You kiss him softly there, and he lets out a hiss through his teeth. It’s the kind of sound that curls heat through your spine. You don’t stop. You kiss lower, slow and reverent, letting your lips brush the warm skin of his throat. He tips his head back, helpless.

“Haneul,” you murmur, pressing your lips to his collarbone.

He groans. His entire body bows toward you like he’s being pulled by gravity. Like your voice is the only anchor in a world he no longer trusts. You trail your hands down the ridges of his chest, the faint scars of old wounds hidden beneath his skin. He watches you, eyes wild with devotion. 

“I dreamed of your hands,” he whispers hoarsely. “I used to wake up clawing at my own skin because I missed the way you touched me.”

You kiss the center of his chest and feel his heart stutter beneath your lips. His hands slide beneath your shirt now, palms warm, reverent as they explore your waist like he’s memorizing the shape of you. He ducks his head to your neck, brushes his lips down the slope of it—and then kisses the spot where your pulse flutters.

You gasp. And that’s all it takes.

A low growl tears from his throat and he bites—not hard, but enough to claim. Enough to make you gasp again, and this time his name spills from your lips like it’s the only thing you know.

His breath is ragged now, and his control is slipping. “Say it again,” he begs, lips against your throat. “Just once more.”

“Haneul,” you moan, and the way he shudders beneath you is almost violent. You feel the darkness curling at the edge of him—the demon just beneath the surface, the possessive, desperate thing that would burn kingdoms for you. But he holds it back.

His forehead presses to yours. Your breath mingles. Your chests rise and fall in perfect sync. His thumb brushes along your cheek as he cradles you like you’re made of glass and starlight.

His voice is low. Gravel and longing. “I’ll wait,” he breathes, fingers curling possessively around your waist. “As long as you need. But don’t think for a second I won’t claim you. One way or another, you’re mine.”

You stare at him. At the burn in his eyes. The way his body shakes beneath your touch—not from fear, but from restraint. Centuries of guilt. Of hunger. Of aching to be close and never having the right.

“I do want you,” you whisper, lips brushing his. “Just… not all at once.”

His eyes flutter shut. His jaw clenches like he’s holding back something feral. “Then I’ll take what you give,” he murmurs, lips brushing your temple. “And I’ll make you crave the rest.”

He kisses your cheek. Then the corner of your mouth. Then rests his forehead to yours—your breath, your warmth, your heartbeat the only thing grounding him. And in that silence, in the hush of your skin against his, you feel the bond ignite again—hotter now, needier. A thread wrapped around your ribs, pulling tighter. Claiming.

No more running. Not from him. Not from this.

Just you. In his lap. In his arms.

Exactly where he’s always known you belong.

TO BE CONTINUED

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A/N: Huahh Abby or (Haneul) got his turn! I wanted to give them each real names and not just stage names. I chose Haneul for Abby because it means “sky” or “heaven.” It’s poetic, gentle, and deeply symbolic. It's meant to tie into Abby’s protector nature — someone who once soared high as a general but fell and now claws his way back for the one he loves. His love is vast, all-encompassing, eternal — like the sky. And there’s an irony too: he fell from grace (heaven to hell), yet his name remains a tether to what he once was.

Let me know if you guys enjoyed this one! Comments, Likes, Reposts, I see them all and really appreciate all the support! Till Next Time!

Willa x.

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Taglist: @faerie-soirxx @strayharmony943 @ibby-miyoshi-nerd @anonymousewrites @cottonheadedninnymugggins @apelepikozume @moonlight-rosevine @yepitsmesendhelp @lovely-maryj @nonetheartist @ateezswonderland @sarah22447 @zuhaeri @enerofairy @littlemissfix-itfic @meeeegaaan @luxylucylou @hornehlittleweeblet2 @natllo @levifiance @lavnderluv @the-sweet-psycho @shinebright2000 @weponxwrites @raineandcl0uds @loomindoors @bearb33 @iv-vee @realifezompire @jamaicanqueen007 @g-l-1-t-c-h-3-r @unsolicitedopal @candylandrules @sleepyamaya @miffysoo @scaranao @bloobewy @misdollface @chugjugg @arieslucy @yandereaficionado @vixyvlo @fanficriter @chirikoheina @limerenceisserenity @mel3484 @tommyinnit-kinnie @lovely-tulipp @airwolf92 @unadulteratedwizardrunaway @mjustag1rl @amercanfailure @casperleghosty @akira-yan @saltedcoffeescotch @storyteller-le @girlwiththegoats @sunoosmainchick @meridian-of-misery @qmabailor @yumekono @givecyrustheirflowers @irethepotato @imjusthereforthecake

[frogizz]

HUNTRX Appreciation Post

I love how Zoey is so passionate and herself around Mira and Rumi. She couldn't find a place where she belonged while living in America nor in South Korea, but with the girls, she's herself. She doesn't have to hide who she is, she can express herself openly and she isn't judged. She feels seen, she feels supported, she feels loved. Zoey is a people pleaser because she's always wanted to fit in. She didn't press on the issue about Rumi hiding something because she knew that Mira was already on her about that and she probably didn't want to make her seem too ganged up on. The line where she goes "You know I'm always on your side, but it's hard to understand this time" hits hard because she didn't want to look like she picked sides. Zoey wanted to be neutral while also completely agreeing with Mira that Rumi was probably hiding something. I love her because I can relate to that; wanting people to like me, wanting to fit in, too scared to "pick sides" because I don't want to raise more tension. Zoey is a dedicated friend and just wants to fit in somewhere. HUNTRX is probably the first group she ever found her place.

I adore Mira for how much she cares. On the surface she's this nonchalant, stone-faced person who speaks in this monotone voice all the time. Except, that's not who Mira is. She cares a lot about her found family. She was the black sheep (for whatever reason) of her family, so once she found Zoey and Rumi, she probably felt like she finally found a family. I totally understand why she was pressing so hard on Rumi to open up because she didn't want to lose a family. HNTRX is Mira's family, she didn't want to lose probably the only closest relationship she's had. Mira is passionate about keeping the group together, so much so, that she probably thinks that she has to be the glue. Once she realized that Rumi had these walls up, alarm bells probably went up because she was concerned and just wanted to be there for her. Mira cares a lot, enough to try and see things for what they are and try and create a space where someone can open up. All she wants is a family where she belongs.

As for Rumi, she wanted acceptance while being under all of that pressure. Imagine being a part of the biggest girl group (in the world, I think?) and tasked with literally saving the world from demons by trapping them away forever. Celine, who raised her, taught Rumi that she should be ashamed of her patterns and that once her duty is done, she can be free of that shame. Rumi was so convinced that no one would love or accept all of her so she had to bottle that up for years. Of course she didn't want to open up about that to even her closest friends. She was scared. All her life was probably lived in fear ,and possibly resentment, towards the whole world and even Celine. But, mostly herself. Rumi just wanted someone to see her for who she was and not reject her or try to kill her. Of course she would start to trust Jinu, besides his lie about his story, he showed her a different side of demons. She was probably curious. She was taught to hate demons and therefore hate herself. Rumi meeting Jinu was the best thing for her because she learned that demons do feel, demons aren't emotionless monsters. It probably healed something in her to know that she isn't inherently evil just because she's half demon. What a huge relief it was for Rumi to finally just be open and wall-less with Zoey and Mira at the end of the movie. When she could go to the bathhouse or even have the same dressing room with them. She finally has no more walls. Rumi just wanted acceptance and reassurance. (I'm curious what Celine thinks of her after the events of the movie. Is she scared? mad? that's a rant for another post).

Of course I can't leave Bobby out of this post. That man is like a supportive father for these women. He was so ready to "break the bank" to give them the best staycation in the country (despite these women literally having the most luxurious tower around). Bobby watches them perform with a smile and is willing to do anything for them. He doesn't just view this group as "his talent" but he adores them as if they were his daughters. He loves them dearly. He felt like it was his duty to keep them together, so he made sure they felt supported and guided. Right before the train scene when Bobby was all like "I got a few pick-me-ups... I know the last few weeks have been tough but I just wanted to let you girls know that I'm here if you need anything..." just the way he talks is so open and loving. This man would do anything for them and his appreciation isn't overlooked. Because Bobby treats Mira, Rumi, and Zoey with respect and care, they're genuinely excited to talk and interact with him. He has matching "Golden" jackets with them (I wouldn't be surprised if the girls insisted that he matches with them). Mira and Zoey ran the second they thought Bobby was in trouble, not only because he himself counts as a fan, but because they care for Bobby as their manager and friend.

[canadianfangirl-95]

A Daisy through Concrete 

Modern AU no outbreak 36 y/o Joel Miller x f!reader 

Summary: You’re elated when you finally have a house to lease with your two children after a grueling year in your parents guest bedroom, post-divorce. Excited for a new chapter to your story, you’re even more excited when the Adlers introduce you to their neighbour, Joel.  

Series Warnings and Information: 18 + minors DNI, eventual smut, some rough sex, divorce, swearing, drinking, drug addiction, car-crash death, absentee mother/father, emergency c-section due to babies heart-rate falling discussed, if you can handle a show like How I met Your Mother or similar, you can handle this. You are responsible for the content you interact with.  

Masterlist

Chapter 2- WC 5300+

Words over Wine 

“Okay guys, here we are.” You say with a smile, pushing open the front door to your house. The sound of little sneakers stomping across the hard wood floors fills the room. You watch with arms crossed against your chest as they take in the furniture, the smells, the feel of the space. Light from the morning sun filters into the living room from the window. A ghost of dust dances in the stream as they find a collection of their toys that had been packed away for a year organized into tubs in the corner of the room.  

“Ah! My Barbie bus!” Melody screams as she pushes it towards the middle of the rug. Plopping down on the floor with her legs crossed she begins opening it and setting up the accessories that have been cramped inside its tiny walls.  

Jayden tip toes between the collection of monster trucks he’s tossed onto the ground from the blue and white bucket he was just leaning over into. You lean over gently by Melody, “Do you guys wanna see your rooms?”  

Their little faces light up. Mel beams with excitement, “We have our own rooms here?” 

“Yep, come on!” You say and wave towards the stairs. They hurry to their feet and scamper up the stairs behind you. Gesturing to the two open bedroom doors you say, “That’s Mel’s, and that’s Jays.”  

They quickly run into their respective rooms. You and your parents got new beds and beddings for them. They are quickly finding the rest of their toys and your heart warms as you take in their squeals of excitement as they uncover every new surprise. The thought of their young childhood begins to give you more hope. That maybe the warmth can return to your lives and the ever-dooming gloom of blue that you seem to see everywhere you look can turn to a hue of orange.  

Mel pulls you out of your daydream with a big wide-open wrap around your legs hug. She looks up at you and smiles, “Thanks Mommy. You’re the best.”  

“Oh, sweetie. Of course.” You kneel down to her height, “I just want you to be happy.”  

She nods quickly before running back off into her room. You walk past Jays room to see that he has already started assembling the Hot Wheels track that he got for Christmas. Your body sways down the hall and into your own room. A bed instead of a futon. A dresser instead of tote. A closet instead of a rack. The master bathroom to your right, now filled with all your toiletries. You’ve been sharing a small bathroom at your parents with your kids for a year. After a while, you had begun taking your hair products to work and just doing your hair in the bathroom because of the lack of space at home. You stand at the end of the large Queen-sized bed. A new comforter from your mom laid out upon it. The plush material feels so delicate beneath your fingers as you trace them over the seams. A bright floral pattern shines back at you and a smile tugs at your cheek. Turning your back to it, your arms open and you fall back gracefully. Landing comfortably on the smooth and safe bed that will sure enough serve as your end of the day comfort for the next year as you navigate this new chapter of your life. A book end for each day to hold you safely in its pillows and blankets, away from the wild, wild world.  

Joel sits down with a grunt at his kitchen table. The orange juice in his hand slides onto the wood top along with his plate of late morning breakfast sandwiches. He can’t believe he slept in. He never sleeps in. He also never stays up late because your mini van is still in the laneway next door and wants to remain available in case you needed anything. Even after the lights went off and your house went silent. He worried about the sink in the ensuite. The way the dryer makes that clicking noise that drove the Adlers mad. How the breaker blows a fuse every time you have the microwave and coffee maker running at the same time. He doesn’t know who was more worried about your first night, but he’s willing to bet it’d be him. He can’t understand why. He has no real responsibility for you; he’s just a convenience next door. But, as he rubs his tired eyes and begins to drink his juice, he finds himself contemplating whether or not you’ll need him today. Or tomorrow, or the day after that for that matter.  

His spiralling thoughts are cut short as he hears the front door opening and closing. Sarah saunters into the kitchen with a curious look. “Are you having breakfast?” 

Clearing his throat he shrugs, “Yeah, slept in.” 

Her eyes squint as she stills, “You slept in?” 

“What I said.” He says gruffly, taking a bite of his sandwich.  

Crossing her arms, her hip pops out as she looks down at her father. “You never sleep in.” 

“Well, I did.” He says through a mouth of toast, eggs and bacon. 

Sarahs eyebrows pop up and she continues into the kitchen, grabbing an orange from the fruit bowl. She takes it the counter and leans forward facing him, her fingers beginning to fiddle with the edges. “Something keeping you up? Someone…” Her voice trails off and she smirks.  

“Sarah-,” he begins but she cuts him off. 

“Dad.” Her eyes grow more empathetic, “I’m not saying, go marry her because she lives next door. But you haven’t dated since, you know,” and they share a look of understanding, “just, be more open. If that makes sense?”  

He lets a deep breath out of his nose and nods, “Yeah, okay kiddo.”  

“Maybe invite them for dinner like you said?”  

“Yeah, I’ll uh- yeah, I’ll see if they’re free next weekend. Alright?” He says smoothly, giving her an eye.  

He kept his distance the first few days, not wanting to spook you is what he told himself. But as he pulls into his laneway late that Wednesday evening, he sees you kneeling over in the front garden. Joel pops his truck in park and sighs, this is a better time than ever he figures. Hoping out, he rubs his clammy hands on his jean covered thighs and mutters to himself. “More open. More open. More open.” When he finds himself just a few meters behind you he clears his throat, “Hey neighbour.”  

Turning your head over your shoulder, your hand raises to shield your eyes from the rays the sun wishes to blind you with. After they focus, you take in the sight of Joel standing just behind you. A warmth spreads in your chest that even the Texas heat couldn’t cause, and you rise to your feet, clapping your hands together to get the crumbs of dirt. “Hey Joel, how’re you now?” 

“Good, and you?” He says with a polite smile.  

“Great, yeah. All moved in, kids are settling in nicely actually.” 

He shifts on his feet, “That’s great to hear. The house been giving you any issues?” he asks, somewhat hopeful. 

Shaking your head, you place your hands in the back pockets of your denim shorts. “No, so far so good.” You say brightly.  

A beat passes and you stare at each other comfortably. He runs his hand through his sweaty chocolate brown hair, “Um, I uh, I know you haven’t been here long, but Sarah and I were wondering about that dinner. If you and the kids would still like to come over.” He says nervously, his hand moves from his hair to rub the back of his neck.  

Your breath intakes slightly more as you see the way the muscles in his bicep flex with his movement. Regaining yourself you nod, “Yeah that would be perfect. We’d love to.”  

“Great, how’s your Saturday looking?” 

“That should work, yeah.”  

A smile bursts on his face and his chest inflates, “Perfect, uh, you can come over at 6 or so and we’ll eat a little after that. Just hot dogs and hamburgers if that’s okay?”  

“For sure, can I bring anything?” You ask sweetly and he thinks his heart may melt.  

He stutters, “Um, I’m not much of a baker myself. If you’d like to bring something for dessert?” 

“Oh yeah, I’d love that. The kids and I will make something.” You say cheerily, the ideas of different baking’s that may impress him swirls through your mind.  

“Great, well, I’ll uh definitely see you then. Maybe before as well of course.” He says jokingly, gesturing to the two houses.  

You nod and chuckle, “Alright, see ya later.”  

“See ya later.” Joel says with a smile and turns. You still for a moment watching the way his ass fills his tight jeans, and you bite your lip before returning to your gardening.  

You send smiles and waves to Joel and Sarah a few more times throughout the rest of the week. When Saturday comes, you and the kids spend the afternoon making cupcakes. You carefully decorate the top of them with little Daisies using the frosting. Daisies have always been your favourite. You picked out the flowerpots at the garden nursery that are now brightening up your front step because they had white daisies in them. Mel and Jay laugh as you jokingly spread icing along the edge of their noses so they can lick them off with their tongues, failing of course, but the joy and laughter that they bring make for a wonderful afternoon. 

 

The breeze blows beautifully in your hair as you make the short walk next door, the kids hopping along behind you and the cupcakes fit perfectly in a cupcake container. You feel a flutter in your chest as you knock on Joels door, about to enter his safe space. Something that is just his and his daughters.  

A clicking noise alerts you and the door swings open. A smile stretches on your face as Joel comes into view. Casual in a black shirt and jeans, despite the heat, you figure as a construction guy he probably never wears shorts. Though you’d certainly like to see him in them.  

“Hi.” He says with a matching smile.  

“Hi.” You parrot back.  

His tongue darts out to wet his dry bottom lip and he steps aside, “Come on in, we’re just out back.”  

You nod and usher the kids forward into the house. He gestures for you to follow him, and you make your way through the living room and into the kitchen. Each part of the house looking more masculine than you would think with a young daughter, but still lots of her own personal touches that you can see scattered around.  

Once in the kitchen, he stills and his eyeline drops down to your chest. “Want me to grab those?” 

Your eyes bulge and heart flutters before asking, “What?” 

His hand rises to gesture to you, “The cupcakes. Do you want them in the fridge? Will be too hot outside.”  

You look down and notice the container of cupcakes you have clutched to your chest that you seemingly forgot about, too mesmerized by Joels broad shoulders. Warmth begins to spread in your face, and you cough slightly to clear your throat. “Oh, yeah yes please.” You say with an embarrassed smile. 

He gives a weary smile and then accepts them before placing them gently in the fridge.  You all continue to move through the house to the back door, which he opens, and you all trickle out.  

Sarah is seated at the outside dining table and looks up from her phone when you all approach. She quickly stands with a bright smile. “Hey, how are you?” 

“Hi Sarah, good, thank you.” You turn to your kids and place your hand on Mel’s head. “Guys this is Joel and his daughter Sarah.” They both nod and smile at the kids. “And these are Melody and Jayden. Can you say hi?”  

“Hi.” They both say with shy smiles.  

Dropping down to their height, Sarah says. “Nice to meet you. I heard you two may need a babysitter sometime. Maybe I could come over and you could show me your toys?” 

“Yeah!” Mel cheers.  

You and Joel share a smile before he clicks his tongue. “Alright, well, you can settle in. I’m gonna get the grub going.” He says gesturing towards the BBQ.  

“Let me know if you need any help.” You say sweetly.  

He grins, “You don’t worry about a thing now darlin’, just put your feet up and relax.”  

The way his smooth voice says it has you feeling dizzy. You take up on his offer to sit in the chair closest to the BBQ while Sarah gets out the lawn games to play with the kids. You sit and chat casually as he tells you about his construction company he owns with his brother, Tommy. You learn his last name is Miller and you like the way it rolls off the tongue. You tell him about your job as a Senior Accountant at the energy company in town. Sure, the work is boring, but the company has great benefits, and you are able to work from home whenever you want, even with a sick child.  

Joel finishes putting together the hot dogs and hamburgers and you all sit for dinner. It’s loud. Between your two rambunctious children and the incredibly amusing dynamic between Joel and Sarah, you can’t believe how you heard a single thought of your own. Not that you minded at all. Actually, it was wonderful. Dinners at your parents are very formal. Seated at the table, 5:30 sharp, some light conversation but the children always stayed pretty quiet and polite for them. They are certainly letting their true vibrant personalities show with Sarah and Joel though. It helps that Sarah seems to be exceptional with kids. She explains to you that she has a friend Carla who has 6 younger siblings. She spends half her free time there, so she’s gotten very used to kids, considering she’s an only child herself.  

You can’t help but wonder what the situation is with Sarahs mom. She hasn’t mentioned her once, neither has Joel. You figure she mustn’t had died, because you didn’t see any pictures with a woman that could be her mother in the collection of frames scattered throughout the house when you took the kids inside to wash up before dinner.  

After a filling dinner, and helping clean up, Sarah asks if the kids want to get out of the heat and watch a movie inside, which they happily accept.  

“Okay, but hey Jay, tell Sarah if you need to go potty, okay?” you say with a stern look at your young boy, and he nods before trailing behind the girls.  

Joel clears his throat, “Want a glass of wine? We can sit on the loungers and relax for a bit if you’d like.” He says, rubbing the back of his tan neck nervously.  

Biting your lip, you nod. “Yeah, that sounds great.”  

He grins before disappearing to the kitchen. You make your way over to the two lounging chairs set up with a small table between them. Sitting carefully sideways on one, you look around the manicured yard and take in the variety of perennials in the surrounding gardens. A large tree sits in the corner of the yard with an old tree house tucked into its sturdy branches. The makeshift ladder missing pieces and a bird’s nest settled on top of the windowsill.  

Joel returns with two glasses of red wine, poured a little forgivingly you may add and hands you one.  

“Thank you.” And he smiles before laying back on the lounger opposite to you. He lets out a quiet dad grunt as his back leans into the material. You take a sip before gesturing to the tree, “Did you make that?” 

He cranes his neck to look in the direction you’re looking at and nods. “Yeah, made that the summer we moved here. Can’t remember the last time she’s been up there.” He says quietly before turning to you. Your eyes kind and compassionate. “Kids grow up so fast, don’t they?”  

Nodding, you let out a huff of breath. “No kidding. Can’t believe Mel will be in the first-grade next year. Feel like it was just yesterday I was sitting at home with her the first day my, uh, her dad went back to work, and I was alone by myself. Just me and this little human that I made and had to take care of.” You bite your lip as you think of the memories and Joel watches on. “Don’t think that woman would even recognize me today, been so long.” 

He lets out a hesitant breath, “You don’t have to tell me anything, if you don’t want. But uh, Connie mentioned something about your divorce to me, just so you know.” 

“What’d she say?” You ask nervously, taking a large sip of your wine.  

Joel shrugs and shakes his head, “Just uh, said that he was into drugs, that you didn’t know about.” His voice trails off and his eyes watch you intently, as if to physically see the way the words affect you in your mind.  

Letting out a light chuckle, you turn your body on the lounger and lay your head back. Your glass balancing on your stomach with your hands. “That’s the short story, I guess. The long story isn’t much different though to be honest.” A moment passes and he waits, he doesn’t prod, doesn’t try to regain your attention, just waits as you run through your rolodex of thoughts. “We met 8 years ago, through mutual friends. He was so, bright and fun, someone that made me laugh immediately. Lots of energy.” You say with a sarcastic tone and give him a side eye. Joel pulls his lips tight and nods in acknowledgement. “We had the house, had the wedding, had the kids. All good. Then well uh, one day, he comes home and asks to talk. Asks if my parents can come get the kids.” You take a moment and then continue, “So they come, and take them to McDonalds for dinner, we sit down at the table, the first piece of furniture we bought when we moved in together of all things. He told me that he lost his job, because he got caught. Doing coke in the bathroom.”  

“I’m sorry.” Joel says quietly. 

You nod politely, “Everyone is. So, I told him, he couldn’t be doing it anymore. We can stay together, and he can find a new job, we could move, if need be, but he said no.” Your head drops and your chin grazes your chest. “He said that he’s been an addict the entire time we have been together, and I loved him so it shouldn’t matter now. I told him it does matter, because I didn’t know, and I wouldn’t have been with him if I did. He spun it around on me, claiming that if I feel that way then I must regret our whole marriage and our kids.” You go silent again, staring at a fallen leaf on the ground, the way it shouldn’t be there, the way it should be high up on the tree with the rest of them. Not disheveled in the one place it never thought it would be at that moment. “After that, it was just a spiral of fights and ultimatums. Ending with him deciding to leave the kids and I so he could keep being an addict.” 

He takes another drink of his wine before shaking his head, “Again, I’m sorry. You and the kids don’t deserve that.”  

“I know.” You say with a small tug of your cheek; you turn your head to look at him fully and he meets your gaze. “Pretty fucked up huh?” and you both let out a small chuckle.  

He stills his smile before his eyebrows knit together, “If he were to get his act together, and really try, would you take him back?” 

You let out a deep breath of confusion and shrug, “Don’t know. Never thought about it because, well, I’d bet good money on it that it’s never gonna happen. When someone tells you who they are, you should listen and I’m pretty sure he told me exactly who he was. I don’t think it’ll change.” 

Nodding, his eyes drop to your wine glass, nearly empty at this point. You roll your neck on your shoulders before giving him a side eye, “So, that’s my fucked-up story. How about yours?” You ask with a playful tone, and he chuckles.  

“Sarahs mom, you mean?” He asks.  

“Sarahs mom.” You repeat.  

He shakes his head, “Not as heavy as yours, luckily she told me exactly who she was at the get go.” He straightens in his seat, “We uh, met at a party. She was pretty wild to be honest, but I’ve always been more grounded, so I think that’s what attracted me to her. We were together a few years and then well, Sarah came along. Not planned, but I was real excited.” He says with a smile. “She didn’t wanna be a mom, didn’t really get into it. She just kept complaining and being so negative. I finally told her, that I didn’t want her to resent me or Sarah, and that if she wanted to go she could. I just couldn’t live with her anymore, she hated the suburban life that I put her in, thinking it was a good thing. We fell out of love pretty quickly after Sarah was born and then when I finally gave her an out. She took it.” He stills, “I just couldn’t listen to way she talked about her. Sarah was just, the most amazing thing in the world to me and she treated her like this thing. Sarah was a little under two when we split.” He takes a drink of his wine and clears his throat.  

“I’m sorry. My kids are my world too, it’s hard to imagine how someone can not see them like that.” He looks at your earnestly and nods. “Where is she now? Do you know?” 

Joel rubs the back of his neck with his hand, the sound of the birds in the tree house filling the space. “Last I heard she was in Indonesia. Mostly travels Asia from what I heard last time I talked to her parents. They aren’t around here and thought it best not to confuse Sarah, so they keep their distance as well.” A silence hangs as you chew your cheek, it finally breaks when he looks at you with a slight grin and says, “Pretty fucked up huh?”  

You both burst into laughter, and you offer your drink up to cheers him. “Cheers.” You say, tipping your drink all the way back and emptying it.  

“Whoa, need a refill?” He says jokingly.  

Without hesitation, you hold the empty glass out to him, “What are you trying to get me drunk?”  

He smirks, “Wouldn’t be the worst idea.” He winks before taking the glass and standing from his seat to head back into the house.  

Your eyes bulge at his flirtatious response and you sit up straighter in the seat, checking your shirt to see if you could push your breasts up a little bit higher for him.  

He returns and hands you the glass, you turn and take it from him, crossing your legs on the lounger so you can face him, and he settles into the chair again.  

“So, any lucky ladies since then?” You ask with an eyebrow pop, and he shakes his head with a smirk.  

“Just one actually.” He says and looks at you playfully.  

 “Long-term thing?”  

He settles the drink on his lap and eyes you, “One month.”  

You choke on your wine and quickly cover your mouth from embarrassment. “One month?” You ask loudly.  

“One month.” He confirms. 

“How, uh-,” You stutter, “I’m sorry, I promise I’m not coming on to you right now but how have you only had one month of relationships in like 10 years?”  

He laughs, “That is a whole other fucked-up story.”  

You shrug, “I got time.” Said with a devilish smirk.  

Joel chews his lip before nodding, “Okay.” He raises his back off the lounger and turns, planting his feet on the ground to face you and rests his elbows on his knees, his wine glass discarded to the table. Your faces just a few feet apart now and unwavering eye contact. You can’t tell if it’s the wine or the way his deep brown eyes sparkle in the early evening sun that is making your chest feel tight. “So, about 6 years ago, I finally got sick of my brother pestering me and decided to go on a date. He set me up with the sister of some guy he played hockey with. Alice, she was nice honestly, she was. We went on 3 dates over the course of the month and then… she died.”  

Your eyes bulge and he nods with one of those, yeah, I can’t believe it either faces. “She died?” You exclaim. 

“Yep.” He says with a hard P. “Got into an accident, died on the scene.”  

Shaking your head you look at him in disbelief, “Holy shit that’s crazy. I don’t know whether or not to give you my condolences.” 

“Please don’t.” He says with a laugh, “It was so weird, I barely knew her, but her family attached themselves to me and wanted me at the visitation and the funeral and they kept inviting me to their Thanksgiving dinners and Christmases.” He says with a belly full of laughter. You break out in a fit of giggles as well.  

“Seriously? You spent what, 8 hours with her and they adopted you as part of their family?”  

Nodding, he confirms. “I don’t know if it was their way of processing or grieving or, I don’t know.” He says, letting his shoulders fall in relaxation. “Finally, after I said no to the one-year anniversary of her death family trip the Lakehouse, they stopped calling me and I just, fuck I haven’t even thought about dating again.”  

Taking another sip of your wine, you say. “Well, I guess we’re both pretty fucked up huh?”  

He smirks, “Cheers to that.” He reaches over and takes his wine glass. You can’t help but stare at the way his large hand engulfs the wine glass stem. You bring yours to meet in the middle with his. The clink sounds and you both bring them to your lips to drink, your eyes never wavering from each other the entire time.  

Finishing the last of your drink, you look at your phone on the edge of the chair. “Well, this has been a great trauma bonding session.” You say playfully and he chuckles, the kind that crinkles the skin around his eyes. “But, I should get the kids home, get baths done.”  

He nods and stands, taking the glass from you politely. You follow his broad frame as you both make your way inside and into the living room. Sarah is seated on the couch with Mel and Jay on either side, their eyes bright as they watch the Disney movie Encanto.  

“Hey guys, time to head home.” You say, pulling your backpack onto your shoulder.  

Mel shoots up with wild eyes, “We didn’t do cupcakes!” 

“Oh shoot, you’re right.” Looking at your phone again, you chew your lip. “Okay, okay we’ll do the cupcakes.” Placing the bag back down, you turn to Joel. “Would you be able to give me a hand?” 

“Yeah, of course.”  

You follow him back to the kitchen and retrieve the cupcakes from the fridge. He grabs a collection of small dessert plates and places them gently on the counter. You pop the top off the container and begin placing them on plates as he sets them out.  

Joel picks up a cupcake and examines the frosting. “Did you really make these?” He asks with a hopeful tone.  

“Yeah, always loved baking.” Your voice is smooth as syrup as you finish plating the cupcakes.  

He peels down the side of the wrapping and takes a bite. His eyes roll into his head, and he lets out a tantalizing groan that makes your knees shake for a moment. “Mm, and she can bake. You amaze me every time I learn something new about you sweetheart.” You let out a giggle and he shakes his head, “Did you do these uh, flowers, what are they called?” 

“Daisies.” You confirm, placing your hand on your hip.  

“Mm, daisies. Very nice.”  

Collecting three plates in your hands, you say. “Always been my favourite flower. My granddad used to call me Daisy because whenever I’d find one, I’d pluck it and stick in my hair. Made me feel pretty, made me feel prettier when he called me that.” You say quietly, reminiscing of your late grandfather.  

He watches as you leave back into the living room, he bites his lip, looking down at the floral decoration again and smiles. Taking the other plate, he follows behind and gives the plate to Sarah.  

She smirks, “Half thought you’d give me the almost finished one.” She jokes, taking hers in her hand.  

He settles into the recliner in the corner of the room and continues eating, “Almost did, but we have company over, and I don’t want them to know how awful of a dad I am.”  

Letting out a chuckle and rolling her eyes, she says. “Think it’s a little late for that, you already fed them.”  

His jaw drops in mock offence and you and her giggle. Mel and Jay oblivious thanks to the sweet treats and dancing donkeys on the screen. “Hey, I’m a good cook. Tell her I’m a good cook.” He says gesturing to you.  

Your hands fly up in surrender, “Hey don’t bring me into this.” You say with a laugh and Sarah joins you.  

Joel shakes his head and brings his cupcake up to his plump lips. He begins muttering to himself jokingly, “Go meet the new neighbour, be neighbourly, she said. Getting ganged up on already.”  

After you all finish your treats and deal with Mel’s tantrum of not being able to finish the movie, Sarah promises that she will come over later in the week to watch the rest of it with them. You say your goodbyes to Sarah, and she departs to the washroom.  

Standing in Joels laneway, you watch as the kids slowly make their way back across the lawn.  

He places his hands in his pockets and grins, “Well, hope you don’t have too much traffic.”  

You snort and shake your head, “Wow, it’s been a while since I’ve heard a proper dad joke thank you so much.” You say sarcastically and he laughs. “Thank you though, this was very nice. Thanks for the talk, I think I needed it. Nice to know I’m not the only fucked-up single parent on the block.” You say with a wink.  

Nodding he says, “Like I said, we look out for each other around here.”  

A moment of contentment passes, and you let out a deep breath, “Well, have a good night, Joel.” You turn and begin walking back towards your house, nodding at your kids as they wait on the front step. A few steps beyond his laneway you hear him call out. 

“G’ night Daisy.” 

Chapter 1 - Chapter 3

[topaztimes]

Still cannot get over the Outsider-Emily parallels btw

[algenica]

boo another dump

[fumifooms]

another detail for bugliker shuro: in the chapter 60 cover, his succubus is falin with insect wings & legs! a little reminiscent of laios's tbh...

Oh my god you’re RIGHT…

Even at the most mosquito-like we see them be in canon they only have wings and hair-like antennas, not this full fit with collar and extra legs… The wings don’t look the same… Oh my god Toshiro’s ideal is a bug wife

[charafansmile]

Something about toriel hating the monsters outside of the ruins in similar way to chara hating humanity. Not only does she isolate herself from them, but the ruins monsters are also pretty intimidated by her. if she never made that agreement with sans then im pretty sure there would have been no convincing her to let us leave. Like at all.

God even the queen toriel ending might suck for her just a bit. Imagine being put in charge of your people who betrayed you and are all willing to play niceys NOW after 6 of your kids died (in the name of 2 of them!) and they would've killed the 7th if they didn't befriend everyone! No wonder she got rid of the royal guard and told everyone to be nice and welcoming as far as she would be concerned that's what they should have been doing from the start. I imagine it's very awkward between her and undyne. I know she fires alphys in Canon, but I imagine they would have eventually started to get along and she could join the human fanclub with mettaton. But God it'd probably be so awkward. So so awkward. I really think she develops a great disdain for monster kind during her exile that she has to workout.

I know what she says here is popularly interpreted as the 'them' being asgore/ the royal guard. But it always felt like to me she was referring to monster kind as a whole. (That and if chara has similarities to toriel, it makes sense that toriel would have similarities to them...)

Exiled queen is even WORSE for her cause now that disdain is mutual and the little kid she tried to protect killed people and a war is inevitable at that point. At least with asgore in charge she had the solace that he would be too much of a coward to go through with it. At least she has sans (and sometimes papyrus) in those endings for support but I can't imagine she in any way in a better mental place than before.

[snailfen]

due to fic writing im trying to wrap my head around what suitcase might think of/how she might treat mephone4 after enough time has passed post-canon and a lot of my trains of thought are boiling down to It's Complicated.

on one hand, suitcase has had it the worst out of many in the show, and she's had to learn when to not take other's shit in order to get by. mephone has also put her on the spot a few times ("judge her accordingly", "pick your favorite friend!") so i imagine she holds that against him. thats not even accounting for The Reveal and her berating mephone4 for the way she was made (whether or not she was made to have hallucinations from the beginning isn't exactly as clear as say, tissues always being sick, at least to me??? but she was undeniably made to struggle). mephone created her to suffer the way she has and i don't imagine she likes the guy all that much post-canon.

on the other hand, she's more sympathetic towards him compared to others. she recognizes the gemories as traumatic memories, attempts to extend her sympathy to him in truth or flare (of course, she gets turned down), and she recognizes when he might be afraid to face those memories, or even cobs. all of this is before the reveal, but still. after that, shes the first to support the idea that he'd better go. plus i think about this list of parallels between them quite a lot.

this is all just off the top of my head though. i think she ultimately recognizes that mephone is more troubled and thats whats caused a lot of her problems with him, but also its not necessarily her responsibility to be kinder to him because of that, or to forgive him. she still tries to offer him kindness though, because, as always she genuinely believes in being kind to others and not going through things alone. never give up on anyone, after all.

[tumblweeds-omegaverse]

worldbuilding thing I've been wondering about:

how do you handle gender identity, gender expression, and/or gender stereotypes, within your omegaverse writings?

this goes for ocs and for fanfics!

if alphas are physically male in the way we'd consider a human to be physically male, that's a statement on their sex, yeah? not their gender.

you can have the body parts implied there and still be a gender that is not "man". so how's that work for omegaverse? especially if alphas can be male or female.

how do you describe gender within your omegaverse? is it based more around dynamic / secondary? (alpha/beta/omega) or around sex? (male/female/others if they apply)

do people get gendered expectations assigned to them based on their sex, on their dynamic, on the combination of both?

(ex: is there a difference between the gender roles given to a female omega versus a male omega? are the stereotypes for a male beta like or unlike those of a male omega?)

could there be such a difference between female alphas, female betas, and female omegas, that only some female people are considered women, while others are labeled with some other term due to their dynamic? or are all female people considered to be women? (assuming they're all cisgender...but if you've got trans headcanons I wanna hear those too!)

I'm curious about this because it's reasonable to say something like "our image of what is masculine appearance / behavior is shaped by our society and time period," right? (since male doesn't have to equal man or masculine, but there's often some connection)

but that structure wouldn't be built from the same stuff in omegaverse. since behaviors and such could be associated with different groups.

so...if a male alpha is seen as a feminine presenting person, what does that mean in your verse?

are masculine and feminine less about what exists in your verse and more about the limitations of our own language?

is it something else altogether?

[adm-starblitzsteel-4305]

🌟Cosmic Incarnation🌟

Something that sparks the dream into reality when you realized that you are incarnated from a majestic Godzilla-Mothra hybrid Titan (a moth specifically with Godzilla's features and tones), who is also happens to be a Princess and Future Queen of the Monsters.

Link Here of the short story:

[teacolouredink]

art vs artist 2024 whoooo!!!

It's my first time doing this trend since I'm never usually happy enough with the collection of art I do each year lol BUT THIS IS THE YEAR THAT CHANGES YAYY!! ✨ I have like 5 other versions of this post because for once I was actually TOO indecisive on which drawings to include haha that never happens! I even included my lil gorillaz style study I did with my OC very recently 🩷 I'd never usually post that kinda thing so that's a lil end of the year treat hehe

Also also also BEHOLD!! My favourite picture of myself. EVER. lol It's like 3 years old at this point but I use it any chance I get whenever a trend like this comes up :'D Plus both tumblr and bsky never got to see its beauty (pff) so here you go ehehe

[space-ninja-fashion-show]

Also RIP the Hex bc i'm sure they're having Issues about their identity and humanity, fears about whatever Entrati had injected them with eventually taking their faces and their minds from them, turning them into monsters-

And then there's Higgins, just hanging out, a fully realised warframe who can't even remember his life from Before, not even a Shining Prime Example of the best that warframes can be bc half his damn face is gone and he's clearly scarred by some pretty bad shit and he's Not Great at breathing sometimes

And guess what

He's getting kisses

[mad-hunts]

okay, but this has probably been done before, but i might be having thoughts about a version of the devil that mayyy be partially inspired by the mysterious stranger by mark twain (+ yes, i know that's technically a story about a cousin of satan under the same name, but SHH lolll) and that would be in the way that they're always seen wearing a full-set of armor or like. something that bears a striking resemblance to what they used to wear during the victorian times, but gives off like... gothic and vaguely religious / angelic vibes when they're not wearing armor.

and by that, i mean just imagine them wearing the most extra looking ruffled blouses / tail coats / almost robe-esque clothing. and imagine them having snake eyes too + having a quiet yet domineering presence — though possibly one that's fully hard to pin down because instead of being hot-headed and a misandrist like most iterations are, they are both a sadist and surprisingly empathetic at times + this is possible because to be a sadist, you have to feel some level of empathy.

IDK, i was just thinking about this for some reason today ahahhh. them actually having goat-like eyes when they're not disguised was also something i thought about because of how one of the main animals the devil is associated with is goats... BUT yeah

[todayisafridaynight]

yk in retrospect it really is no surprise that rgg has a lot of queer fans. outside of the games being utterly homosexual of course

[starheirxero]

BOOO HEY FRIEND XERO BITES YOU . TELL ME WHAT ULTRAKILL IS PLEASE . IVE HEARD OF IT BEFORE AND I KNOW NOTHING BUT IT SOUNDS COOL . JUMPS AROUND

AAAAAA HELLO FRIEND VI!!!! ULTRAKILL IS SUCH A GOOD GAME IT'S LITERALLY FUCKING FANTASTIC <3<3<3

Like okok the tagline is literally "mankind is dead. blood is fuel. hell and full." AND WITH WHAT IS CURRENTLY OUT OF THREE GAME? THAT'S A PRETTY SOLID WAY TO PUT IT LMAO. You play as V1, one of many robots built for a great war, that is one of few machines that can absorb blood via direct contact with it. It's all basically a mad dash through hell to stay alive as long as possible through killing demons, husks, and other machines.

And eventually, angels :)!

Gabriel is, fun fact, the only character that you can encounter in the main levels that actually speaks!!! So when you get to the area he does his first monologue to you, it is a TOTAL jumpscare!! And he is SO SASSY. All like "Machine, turn back now, for the walls of this palace are NOT for your kind 🙄" like okay gayboy. and literally the way u heal during his fight is that he stops his attacks to taunt you and THEN you can stop to beat his ass LMAO

AND THEN WHEN HE'S DEFEATED, HE LOSES ALL OF HIS PERFECT ANGEL ATTITUDE AND GOES "YOU INSIGNIFICANT FUCK!!!" IT'S EVERYTHINGGSGAJAHAJSH AND THEN!!! BECAUSE HE GOT HIS ASS BEAT BY A MACHINE, THE HOLY COUNCIL SAYS "HEY MAN, WHAT THE FUCK. UR PATHETIC. KILL THE MACHINE IN 24 HOURS OR BE STRIPED OF THE FATHER'S LIGHT (READ AS: KILL V1 OR DIE)."

SO WHEN YOU SEE HIM AGAIN IN ACT 2 HE'S LIEFRHSHAHAHAHAAAAAA I CAN'T EVEN JUST PLEASE FUCKING LISTEN TO HIS PRE-FIGHT MONOLOGUE IT'S INSANEEEE 😍😍😍 THE FINAL CUTSCENE IS IN THAT TOO WHERE HE GETS HIS ASS BEAT AGAIN AND IS ACTUALLY LIKE. YK WHAT? THE HOLY COUNCIL IS FUCKED AND CORRUPT. I KNOW WHAT I MUST DO. AND SLAUGHTERS THEM ALL 💗💞💕💗💞💗💖💗💞

AND THAT'S JUST FOCUSING ON GABRIEL!!!!!! THERE'S STILL KING MINOS AND SISYPHUS AND ALL THE DEMONS AND HUSKS AND OTHER MACHINES AND V2 AND THE EARTHMOVER AND THE FERRYMAN AND I CANATATAAAAAAAA

I CAN'T FIT ALL I LOVE ABOUT THIS GAME INTO A POST BUT IT'S SO GOOD. AND THAT'S JUST WHAT U EXPERIENCE IN THE MAIN GAME WITHOUT LORE-DIGGING. IT'S LITERALLY A FUCKING FANTASTIC GAME WITH A BEAUTIFUL STORY. PLEASE. PLEASE ITS SO GOOD. HERE'S A 1 HOUR 30 MINUE LORE VIDEO IF YOU WANT MORE. PLEASE. IT'S ULTRAKILLIN' TIME.

[sparkspropaganda]

I know i've made like 3 of the same posts before but it just kills me because I love him as a villain and feel like there's a lot to discuss so I go into the cazador tag and everyone's like "so glad this greasy ugly guy was so easy to kill" stop being mean to him... have you considered that some of us want to appreciate arch villainy wherever we may find it? Have you considered how he has some of the rawest lines in the entire game? How he learned how to abuse and manipulate and terrorize Astarion because he lived it? How an ascended Astarion parallels Cazador so cleanly in words, tone and action?