#[ limbo ] — The Slumbering Realm

[idv-fifis-toybox]

SKINS UPDATE: PART 1

I am a slow worker UEUEUE but also seeing this in my drafts is pain and there are. way too many skins in the whole thing LOL so im just dumping those that have requests atm! Skins under the cut

Waterfire II: Operation Dagger

S-Tier: Soixante Quinze ( The Voidwalker, Rue ) ( bonus, Cent Vingt-Cinq, R, it was too perfect )

A-Tier: Jack Rose (The Executioner, Exe)

B-Tier: Gimlet (The Hitman, Zane Bracken)

S-Tier: Bloody Mary ( The Vedette, Vanadis )

Waterfire III: Troupe Disaster

B-Tier: Trial of Fire ( The Knife Thrower, Flynn Smith )

B-Tier: Trial of Water (The Puppeteer, Rosalyn Darling)

B-Tier: Trial of Silence ( The Novelist, Orfeo )

B-Tier: Spotlight ( The Lampsmith, Wayne Strickland )

S-Tier: Saraste (The Tailor, Angel Drew)

A-Tier: Agent Clubs ( The Veteran, Lyra Blake )

The Slumbering Realm

S-Tier: Ukiyo (The Samurai, Shiori Aikin )

A-Tier: Directions (The Cameraman, Akihiko Sato)

A-Tier: Tickets (The Gardening Fool, Basil Vines)

B-Tier: Busy Passenger (The Activist, Peterson “August” Drew)

B-Tier: Lost Passenger (The Scion, Ian Varon)

B-Tier: Regretful Passenger ( The Glass Artist, Delilah Fowler )

A-Tier: Train Conductor ( The Showman, Phineas Smith )

The Purgatory

Note: this is about another afterlife, the Seven Evokers (based on the seven deadly sins) are the Seven ‘Kings’/‘Queens’ of the realm, second to the god of the realm who is not within the packages. The two A-tiers are the direct servants of their Evokers

S-Tier: Gula (The Falcon Tamer, Yvette)

A-Tier: Insatiable  (The Baker, Beth Anastazja )

 A-Tier: Lullaby (The Upside Down Artist, Amy Kazuichi)

A-Tier: Hollow Praise (The Radio Host, Laurence Godfrey)

A-Tier: Double-edged (The Cultivator, Eiji Narukami)

A-Tier: Bloodlust (The Nurse, “Lazarus”)

A-Tier: Blackened Knight (The Vet, Luke Watson )

S-Tier: Luxuria ( The Radio Hostess, Adeline Deniere )

A-Tier: Desire ( The Living Mannequin, Miss Manni )

A-Tier: Lady Rose ( The Huntress, Ellie )

S-Tier: Avarita ( The Scholar, Romero Gray )

[edenesth]

Midnight Fiction

Pairing: Wooyoung x fem!reader

AU: non-idol au

Word Count: 10.4k

Summary: One restless night, craving an escape from reality, you and Wooyoung lose yourselves to the captivating realms of your favourite fantasy worlds. Together, you traverse through the wonder of Narnia, the magic of Middle-earth, and the enchantment of Hogwarts.

A/N: Just a random little self-indulgent oneshot inspired by ILLIT's Midnight Fiction, song's been on repeat for me. These images have been flashing through my mind whenever I listen to it, so I'm taking this chance to experiment with writing The Chronicles of Narnia, Lord of the Rings, and Harry Potter AUs.

ATEEZ Masterlist

Don't you just hate it when you're caught in that limbo of feeling too cold without a blanket and too hot with one? Don't you just hate it when you lie in bed for what feels like an eternity, teetering on the edge of slumber, only to snap awake again? Don't you just hate when your room begins to feel stifling from restlessness, leaving you searching for that elusive perfect spot on your bed?

Don't you just hate it when it feels like the whole world is asleep while you're wide awake? You do, don't you?

Fortunately for you, tonight, you weren't alone in this plight. The person lying beside you, your best friend, your soulmate, your better half—your everything—seemed to be stuck in the same predicament.

"Trouble sleeping, love?"

In an instant, the weight lifted as you turned to gaze at the love of your life, awake beside you. "Yes, Woo, but at least I'm not alone," you whispered, smiling. He smiled back, extending an arm towards you in invitation. You pouted, your heart brimming with affection for this man, and immediately shifted into his welcoming embrace, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

He sighed contentedly, tightening his hold around you, and peppering your face with tender kisses. "Perhaps sleep isn't on the agenda tonight. What do you say we find another way to pass the time?" His playful grin met your curious gaze.

You chuckled softly. "And what mischief do you have in store, my dearest Mr. Jung?"

With a playful boop to your nose, he grinned. "Would you care to embark on an adventure with me, my lady? Somewhere far from this suffocating room, perhaps?"

Bursting into a fit of giggles at his playful imitation of old-fashioned speech, you leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his lips. Pulling back, you played along, "Oh, you present such an irresistible offer. How could I possibly refuse, my lord?"

He bit his lip, feeling his heart melt at how swiftly you caught on. Wooyoung had always been an exuberant individual, often overwhelming others with his energy and antics, but never with you. You were the sole person in the world who truly understood him. You shared the same interests and personalities, the only disparity being that you were a slightly calmer version of him.

If soulmates existed, he was certain you were at the other end of the red strings of fate binding him to you. You had to be.

Pressing his lips to yours once more, relishing the closeness, he pulled back slightly to catch his breath. "Well, come on then, love. Let's not waste any time. Adventure awaits us."

You squealed in delight as he leapt out of bed, swiftly yanking the sheets off you and exposing you to the cool air. With a playful tug on your leg, he pulled you into his arms as you steadied yourself against his chest, adjusting to the sudden movement after hours of lying still.

"I hope you're ready, my lady."

"You bet your ass I am, sire. Let's do this!"

"Seriously, Woo? This is the adventure you were referring to? A place far from our suffocating bedroom?" you asked incredulously as he swung open the doors to his absurdly large wardrobe in the spare room of your shared apartment. It was where your boyfriend housed his prized collection of branded apparel, insisting on keeping them separate from his everyday wear.

He flashed you a cheeky grin, flicking on the torchlight he'd brought with him and shining it upwards towards his face in the classic fashion of someone about to tell ghost stories. "Oh, come on, this could be fun. It'll be like seven minutes in heaven."

You snorted at his suggestion, watching as he crawled into the space, carefully shifting aside his hanging clothes. Crossing your arms teasingly, you quipped, "With a whole apartment at our disposal, why do we need to squeeze into a tiny space for some fun?"

Once settled inside, he extended a hand to you. "Don't pretend you're not thrilled about this. I see right through you. Come on, love," he urged, and your façade melted away like chocolate. With a grin as childlike as his, you slipped your hand into his and allowed him to draw you into the cramped space.

Amidst endless giggles, you squeezed your way in beside him. When he finally managed to shut the doors, you turned to him eagerly. "Okay, so what now?"

"Now, let the magic begin," he whispered, leaning in for a soft kiss. You sighed contentedly, running a hand through his hair as you kissed him back. But before the romantic moment could fully unfold, true to his nature, Wooyoung reached around your waist and began to tickle you. You shrieked, pulling away to playfully slap him. "S-stop it, you menace! I sh-should've known!"

As you tried to push him away from you, you found yourself instinctively scooting back. But instead of feeling the familiar barrier of the wardrobe's end, you noticed an unusual expanse of space behind you. "W-wait, Woo! S-something's not right—" Before you could finish your sentence, a loud gasp escaped you as you felt a cold touch on your back.

What in the world.

Finally, your boyfriend ceased his actions, freezing in his spot with wide eyes. Following his gaze, you turned your head and felt your breath hitch at the unbelievable sight of a winter wonderland before your eyes.

Swiftly, he rolled off you and helped you up to your feet, clad in bedroom slippers, both of you taking tentative steps into the snow. Your gazes met in wide-eyed astonishment as the chill of this new world immediately embraced you. "Woo, could we be in...?" you began, while he hurriedly threw on an expensive coat before draping another snugly over your shoulders.

Ensuring you were sufficiently warm, he reached for your hand and led you forward. "Only one way to find out."

Your hearts raced as you ventured deeper into the breathtaking snow-covered forest. Glancing back, you felt relief upon seeing the back of Wooyoung's wardrobe still there. As he squeezed your hand, you followed his gaze, and your face lit up with recognition as you approached the lamppost before you.

Locking eyes with each other, you whispered in unison, "Narnia."

Squealing with excitement, the two of you began to jump around. Your boyfriend started rambling, "Oh my god, do you think we'll get to meet Mr. Tumnus? Or maybe Mr. and Mrs. Beaver?"

You laughed and shook your head. "I don't know, but I really hope I get to see King Edmund, at least... or even Prince Caspian, if we're that far in the story already."

He scoffed. "Of course, you'd want to."

You playfully smacked his arm. "Hey! Don't pretend you're not also dying to meet the gorgeous High Queen Susan!"

Feeling a presence, you both turned to find a very unexpected character greeting you upon arrival. Standing before you in all his glory was Aslan, The Great Lion, the creator and one true king of the world of Narnia. Your boyfriend stilled, then pulled you down onto your knees beside him. "It's an honour to meet you, sir. I'm Wooyoung, son of Adam," he said, introducing himself, before introducing you as a daughter of Eve.

Aslan nodded in acknowledgement. "Welcome to Narnia; we have been expecting you," he began, catching you off guard.

"You have...?" you asked in disbelief.

The lion confirmed, "Yes, you are both here to fulfil the Golden Age prophecy."

Wooyoung sputtered, "W-we are...? Isn't the prophecy about two boys and two girls, with your help, ending the evil witch's rule?"

Aslan clarified, "That is correct, but you've left out one final thing; it includes two seers who can tell the future. With your help, we will defeat Jadis without a problem."

At that, you and your boyfriend exchanged a knowing smile. Of course, you were both the seers; you already knew how the story goes. Armed with this knowledge, you were equipped to guide them through their quest to defeat the White Witch even more seamlessly than before.

With a graceful motion, the lion lowered himself to the ground. "Now, if you'll both get on my back, we'll head back to the camp where everyone is preparing for battle." Excitement surged through you both, and without hesitation, you climbed aboard. As the journey commenced, you marvelled at the breathtaking scenery around you. With each passing moment, you noticed the snow melting away, a clear sign of Jadis' spell fading and the return of goodness, heralding Aslan's triumphant return.

As you and your boyfriend rode on the lion's back, a whirlwind of emotions swept over you both. It was surreal to realise that you were actually in the magical land you had both fantasised about since childhood. The realisation dawned on you that this wasn't just a dream—it was happening, right now.

Feelings of excitement, wonder, and disbelief mingled within you, threatening to overwhelm your senses. But typical Wooyoung being Wooyoung, he couldn't resist his mischievous nature. Sitting behind you, he tightened his hold on your waist and whispered in your ear, "How do you think he'd react if we told him he's fictional?" Your jaws dropped, and you shot him a glare, elbowing him in the gut and causing him to groan. "Now, why would you do that?"

But it didn't take long before you both burst into giggles. Despite his knack for mischief, you couldn't help but be grateful for his presence. You couldn't envision exploring the magical world of Narnia with anyone else but Jung Wooyoung by your side.

As you reached the camp, embarrassment flooded you as all the creatures—centaurs, fauns, and more—stared at you and Wooyoung in your mismatched attire. You couldn't help but feel awkward in your pyjamas paired with your boyfriend's branded coat and bedroom slippers. Before you could dwell on it, everyone began kneeling in greeting as you passed by.

"Welcome, seers of Narnia," greeted the voices in unison as you arrived at the main tent where the four Pevensie siblings stood waiting, your hearts pounded with excitement and nerves. Here you were, finally meeting your childhood crushes. Clumsily, you introduced yourselves before watching the crowd disperse.

Blushing under Peter and Edmund's curious gazes, you were relieved when Susan stepped forward with a chuckle. "Come on, both of you. Let's get you into some proper clothes. We know how it feels; we've been in your shoes on our first day here," she reassured. Wooyoung chuckled in agreement, "Yeah, we know that."

Lucy's eyes widened in awe. "Of course, you're the seers. You must know everything. Tell us, how does it all work?"

Blinking rapidly with pursed lips, you and your boyfriend struggled to find a suitable response. After all, revealing that your knowledge came from books or movies wouldn't be appropriate. Breaking the fourth wall so easily could spoil the adventure and make you both seem uncool. It was best to keep the magic alive, even if it meant inventing some details on the spot.

"Uh, well... it's, uh, complicated," your boyfriend stammered, his mind scrambling for a creative explanation.

Peter cleared his throat, exchanging a glance with his youngest sister. "Not now, Lucy. They must be overwhelmed. We should let them get changed and settle down first."

Nodding in agreement, Edmund gestured to a smaller tent beside Aslan's. "Right this way, please. We've prepared your outfits."

You had to suppress a squeal; the brothers were even more attractive in person. Though this version of King Edmund was still a child and not the king you admired in the later movies, it was still him, and you couldn't help feeling bashful. As if to remind you of who you truly belonged to, Wooyoung slid his arm around your waist. "Come on, love. Let's get changed." It was then that all four siblings realised that unlike them, you were lovers.

Emerging from the tent with Susan and Lucy's help, you felt slightly awkward in the medieval-styled gown, uncertain how to manage its intricate design. Meanwhile, your boyfriend had finished much sooner, dressed in a simple outfit of pants and a tunic. His lively voice echoed from inside the tent as you dressed, likely engaging poor Peter and Edmund with his talkative nature.

As you stepped out, his voice trailed off as he took in the sight of you in the purple gown with your hair braided halfway and the rest left down. Though not extravagant, you knew he found it beautiful; his stunned expression told you that much.

Susan giggled at his reaction, while you blushed slightly. "Shall we have something to eat, and break the ice before we begin our training?" she suggested.

You raised a brow. "Training?"

Peter nodded. "Yes, preparations for the battle against the White Witch's army. I know you're both here as our seers, but it's wise to be ready to defend yourselves too."

Wooyoung nodded in understanding. "Right, well, we'll accept the food then. We'll need our strength for training."

Gathered around a small table on the field, you shared a simple meal, just enough to provide energy for training. Keeping a straight face was a challenge as your boyfriend animatedly spun a tale for the Pevensie siblings about how you both received visions of the future.

"Yeah, it's not something we control. Sometimes it comes in dreams, other times as random visions. It's tricky... a gift and a curse, really," he elaborated.

Struggling to suppress your amusement, you watched as the siblings listened in awe. Concealing your laughter behind a cough, you nudged Wooyoung in the side, giving him a glare and mouthing, "Enough!"

The mood turned serious as Lucy nervously inquired, "Have you seen how this will all end? Will we triumph over the evil witch?" You were aware of the obstacles lying ahead, including Aslan's sacrifice to save Edmund for his earlier betrayal, and the battle feeling like a lost cause. Despite these daunting prospects, you knew you had to offer reassurance to keep their spirits up.

Taking this as your cue to speak, you smiled and nodded at the youngest Pevensie sibling. "Yes, little one. You—no, we—will emerge victorious. The path to victory may be fraught with challenges, but we'll be here to help you every step of the way."

After the meal, the guys geared up to train their sword skills, while the girls prepared for archery practice. Just before joining the guys, Wooyoung pulled you close.

"Have I told you how much I adore the way you talk to children, love?" he whispered.

You rolled your eyes, a smile playing on your lips. "Now's not the time for this, Woo; they're waiting for us."

He grinned at the pink blush on your cheeks. "Fine, I'll go if you want me to so badly. By the way, you look beautiful," he whispered, planting a kiss on your cheek before darting off to join Peter and Edmund.

Turning around, you noticed Susan and Lucy snickering after witnessing the exchange, and you couldn't help but bite your lip bashfully. "Come. Off to training, we go."

After hours of practice, you discovered a potential talent in archery. Susan raised an impressed brow. "Huh, you seem quite skilled at this. We were worried for nothing; you'll do just fine on the battlefield."

You beamed. "I sure hope so."

As the girls continued their drills, your gaze kept drifting to the guys training across the river. Despite the presence of the handsome High King Peter and King Edmund, your attention remained fixed on your silly boyfriend who was earnestly attempting to wield his sword. He looked comical, but that was part of his charm.

"You're in love," Lucy's voice snapped you out of your reverie. Flustered, you nodded. "Why yes, little one. I am in love."

Susan smiled, joining the conversation. "So is he. You two look perfect together. Say, how did you meet?"

Your mind flashed back to your first encounter with Wooyoung. He had been at the next table when you were stood up by a blind date, rambling away loudly with a friend. Annoyed, you turned to him, asking, "Will you please lower your voice?! Not everyone is interested in your opinion on love at first sight!" Ironically, that was how he claimed to have fallen in love with you.

Chuckling at the memory, you decided not to share the full story with the girls. Given the temporal gap between your world and theirs, you reckoned they might not grasp the nuances of your relationship with Wooyoung. Instead, you offered a simplified version of how you met, emphasising the humour in the situation. They laughed with you, and soon the conversation shifted back to practice.

As the story progressed, you and your boyfriend grew closer to the Pevensie siblings, guiding them through every challenge just like rewatching the movie. Together, you avoided certain pitfalls and reassured them that everything would turn out well in the end.

On the night before the decisive battle, you would leave to stay with the girls to witness Aslan's sacrifice for Edmund. Wooyoung held you close, knowing that the next time you saw each other would be on the battlefield the following day. "Be careful, love," he whispered, concern evident in his voice.

You nodded, returning the sentiment. "You too, Woo. You remember how the battle goes, right? Stick by Edmund's side and ensure Jadis doesn't harm him. Or better yet, get him out of that area. Just don't let her get the chance to stab him."

He grinned confidently. "You worry too much. I'll protect your precious King Edmund, don't you worry about a thing."

You scoffed, slapping him lightly. "I have to go now. I'll see you."

He couldn't resist capturing your lips in a loving kiss before letting you go. "Go, the girls need you," he urged softly.

As Susan and Lucy wept on your shoulders after witnessing Aslan's sacrifice, you held them tightly, offering whatever comfort you could. With tears clouding her voice, the younger sibling questioned, "How can things still be okay after this? He's gone... How can we possibly win the war without him?"

Gently stroking her tear-stained cheeks, you reassured her, "Trust me, he knows what he's doing. This will all work out in our favour. Just you wait and see, little one."

Susan regarded you with her typical scepticism. "Are you sure?"

Your nod was firm. "Absolutely."

Quietly, you watched as they clung to the lion after the enemies dispersed to prepare for battle. As dawn approached, you motioned for them to join you. "It's almost time. Come."

With furrowed brows, they approached cautiously. "Time for what...?"

Your smile was knowing as the ground trembled and the Stone Table shattered, leaving behind only a vacant space where Aslan had been. "For this," you declared, pointing to the now-empty surface.

Their eyes widened in disbelief as Aslan reappeared before them, alive and well. You watched with a sense of satisfaction as he explained his strategy, how he had fooled the White Witch.

Eager to reunite with your lover, you interjected, "Well, let's not waste any more time. We still have one final task: freeing our friends still trapped in Jadis' Castle."

Aslan nodded in agreement. "You're right, seer. We must act swiftly."

After rescuing Mr. Tumnus and the others, you hurried to the battlefield. Upon arrival, Aslan let out a loud roar as if to announce his presence. Spotting Peter engaged in a sword fight with the White Witch, you frantically scanned the area for the second youngest Pevensie and Wooyoung.

Time seemed to slow as the lion leapt down to save the high king from Jadis before ultimately defeating her. Alongside the girls, you raced down the hill to join them. Sharing Susan's concerned expression, you asked, "Where's Edmund and my—"

Peter noticed your worry, eyes rounding in realisation as he dashed off in a direction, with the rest of you following. Arriving just in time, you witnessed Ginarrbrik, the witch's manservant, poised to strike what appeared to be Edmund kneeling beside a fallen figure. Susan swiftly shot the dwarf down with an arrow, prompting you to rush forward.

To your horror, instead of finding the injured king as in the story, it was Wooyoung lying there, clutching his abdomen. Edmund explained, "I'm sorry. I should've listened to him when he told me to run. He shielded me when the witch attacked."

Turning to the youngest, you urgently requested, "Lucy! The cordial from Father Christmas, please!" She handed it over, and you watched anxiously as Wooyoung swallowed a drop. Slowly, colour returned to his face, and he opened his eyes. "Hey, love."

Tears of relief and anger filled your eyes as you hugged him tightly. "Don't 'hey' me! You scared me half to death, you idiot!"

He chuckled and hugged you back. "I thought you were more worried about him. But I saved him, didn't I?"

You tightened your grip on him. "Yes, but not like this, Jung Wooyoung."

"Must you really leave?" Queen Lucy's voice carried a hint of sadness as you and your boyfriend prepared to depart after the royal coronation. You struggled with how to explain to her that your departure signalled the end of this chapter of the story, though you dared not utter those words outright.

Seeing her crestfallen expression, clearly still reeling from Aslan's departure, made it even harder to say goodbye. You offered her a comforting smile and gently patted her head. "I'm sorry, Lu. But we really must go. Our journey isn't over yet."

"But where will you go?" the child's voice quivered with uncertainty.

Your boyfriend's grin was reassuring. "Ah, that's our secret. But rest assured, we won't forget you or the adventures we've shared."

After bidding farewell to all the characters from the first instalment of The Chronicles of Narnia, you and Wooyoung returned to the exact spot where you had entered the world. Hand in hand, your steps slowed as you approached the familiar lamppost that had greeted you upon your arrival.

"So, how was that for an adventure?" Wooyoung asked, breaking the silence as he pulled you close to him.

You melted into his embrace, a smile spreading across your face. "It was amazing."

He smirked, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "Really? But you didn't even get to steal King Edmund's heart."

You couldn't help but burst into laughter. "Oh, stop it, you!"

He chuckled, his tone turning slightly more serious. "I guess it was fun being new characters in a story. But wouldn't it be nice to live the main characters' lives instead?"

You gently pulled away, taking his hand and leading him back towards his wardrobe. "I suppose it would be, Woo. Let's go."

Be careful what you wish for; that adage couldn't have been more accurate. As you ventured through the wardrobe with your boyfriend trailing behind, your eyes widened in astonishment when you emerged into a scene completely unlike your shared apartment. Taking in the surroundings, you recognised the breathtaking interior of Rivendell, or Imladris in Elven-Tongue, a place you had always dreamed of from the Lord of the Rings.

"Woo?" you called out, but he wasn't there.

Instead, you found yourself face to face with a mirror, and you gasped at your reflection. You recognised the Elvish features, reaching up to touch your pointed ears and the long hair cascading below your waist. The elegant gown confirmed your suspicions: you were Arwen Undómiel, the Evenstar. But if you were Arwen, then that would mean your boyfriend was the Ranger of the North.

That fool... he jinxed it.

Unlike in Narnia, you weren't a new character here. Suddenly, you were hit with a surge of sorrow, as if you were experiencing Arwen's emotions firsthand. Her father's disapproval of her love for Aragorn, a mortal, echoed within you, reminding you of the struggles you faced with your own parents. The memories flooded in, replacing those of Arwen and Aragorn with moments between you and Wooyoung, making the situation feel eerily real. It brought back the times when your parents had opposed your relationship, insisting you deserved someone better.

You immediately realised the part of the story you were in. The War of the Ring raged on, and evil spread throughout Middle-earth. Your father, Lord Elrond, had been urging you to depart for the Undying Lands, a place of safety far from the conflict. However, the thought of leaving your lover, who was on a quest to fight evil and protect Frodo, the Ring-bearer, filled you with reluctance.

Just like in the story, you faced the dilemma of choosing between your immortal heritage and your love for a mortal. The parallels between your situation and that of Arwen and Aragorn were striking, and it sent shivers down your spine. You knew how it went in the tale; she eventually gave up her immortality to be with him. It was almost uncanny how similar it was to your reality, where you had fought fiercely to be with Wooyoung despite your parents' objections, which left you currently with a strained relationship with them.

Standing in the familiar area filled you with a sense of dread. This was the moment where Aragorn would soon depart for battle, and where he would tell Arwen to leave for the Undying Lands for her own good. But now, with Wooyoung by your side, you knew things would be different.

Despite the eerie familiarity of the scene, you felt a newfound determination. As if guided by some unseen force, you approached the spot where Aragorn and Arwen would have their fateful conversation. This time, though, you were ready to make a different choice.

As you approached Wooyoung, your heart raced with fear and urgency. "Woo! Why didn't you come to find me? Were you really going to leave like he did?" The dread you felt wasn't just Arwen's; it was yours too. You realised this when he let out a deep breath and met your gaze with a seriousness that sent chills down your spine.

"You know, maybe your parents had a point," he began, his words cutting through the air. "You are their daughter after all, and that will never change. I'm just another guy you're dating, and guys come and go. Perhaps it's not so rational for you to ruin your relationship with your parents just for an outsider like me. Besides, maybe you do deserve someone much better."

Your heart sank as his words washed over you, and you frowned in disbelief. "What the hell are you talking about?! We both know what Elrond said to Aragorn right before this scene. Don't tell me that silly little talk really had you doubting our reality?"

He sighed heavily, his expression pained. "But is he wrong, though? Maybe Arwen was a fool for staying... In the end, Aragorn dies of old age anyway, and she continues to live on in sorrow. What if our reality isn't that far off? Maybe it'll only end in pain?"

His words pierced your heart like a dagger, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words. The weight of his doubts and uncertainties pressed down on you, threatening to suffocate you. But deep down, you knew that despite the risks and the potential for pain, your love for him was worth fighting for.

Gathering yourself, you took a deep breath to steady your thoughts before speaking. "I understand you might be influenced by Aragorn's feelings, just as I am by Arwen's. But deep down, I know you don't truly mean what you're saying. Regardless, we both know how this story unfolds in the end. If you must go, then go. I'll see you soon. Have fun beating up the bad guys, Woo."

A hush fell between you both as he absorbed your words, his tough exterior crumbling. Regret clouded his features as he stepped closer, reaching for your hands. "Wait, you're right. I... I must have been too swept up in Aragorn's emotions. I'm so sorry, love."

You smiled, gently cupping his face. "You said it yourself, how nice it would be to live the lives of the main characters. Look at how it turned out, huh?" you teased, and he flushed with embarrassment. "God, I'm such an idiot."

You smirked. "You always have been."

He grinned. "Well, now that we're the main characters, perhaps we can reshape the story and make it our own. You've always dreamed of being in Rivendell. Let's use this opportunity to explore the place."

You scoffed, though a spark of excitement ignited within you at his suggestion. "But don't you have to leave for battle?"

He rolled his eyes. "Gurl, Sauron and his army of clowns can wait. Now, come on."

Hand intertwined with his, you dashed through the exquisite halls of Elrond's house. Your heart soared as you absorbed the surreal surroundings, the sight of Wooyoung's reassuring presence ahead of you filling you with joy. This was the very scenario you had dreamt of for so long – being in this fantastical place with the one you loved.

Your steps faltered as you reached what seemed to be the area where the Council of Elrond took place, where the Fellowship of the Ring was first formed.

"We're actually here, holy crap," Wooyoung muttered in amazement.

You couldn't help but giggle. "Is that cooler than the fact that you're Aragorn? Speaking of which, I'm so envious of you."

He raised a brow. "For what? You get to hang around here and look so beautiful all the time while I go out and fight evil."

You nodded. "Yeah, but you get to be with Legolas all the time."

He snorted in disbelief. "Unbelievable... I'm never letting you near him. First, King Edmund, and now the blonde elf."

You pouted. "Pfft, it's not like there's ever been anything between Arwen and Legolas. You have nothing to worry about. Plus, you'll have Éowyn falling at your feet later on. Let's hope you still remember me by then."

He sputtered at that. "In case you forgot, she got rejected anyway."

You scoffed. "Yes, but that was Aragorn. The same can't be said for you."

His jaw dropped. "What—hey! You're the only one for me, no matter the universe!" he insisted as you continued walking, grinning in satisfaction for catching him off guard as you moved on to the next location.

"Ah, this is where that iconic scene took place," your boyfriend remarked as you stepped onto the moonlit bridge, reminiscent of the moment when Arwen handed her necklace, the Evenstar, to Aragorn. It symbolises her love and defiance against her father, signifying her choice to give up her immortality to be with him.

Standing in the same spot as the characters in the movie, you watched as he retrieved the jewellery from his pocket. "Come, my lady. Would you like to recreate that scene?" he asked playfully, holding out the pendant.

Meeting his gaze, you took a deep breath before reciting your favourite line, "I would rather share one lifetime with you... than face all the ages of the world alone."

At that moment, the playfulness faded from his expression, and he sensed a deeper meaning behind your words, a reflection of your genuine emotions toward each other. Recalling a past conversation where you admitted that without him, you might have chosen not to love at all, he was deeply moved. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to yours, conveying his affection. Pulling back slightly, he grinned, "That has to be the most romantic thing you've ever said to me. Can you say that to me every once in a while?"

You chuckled, giving him a playful smack on the chest. "If that's what it takes to stop you from annoying me, then yes."

"Hey!" he protested, chasing after you as you ran off to explore other areas of Rivendell.

As you wandered, you recognised the next destination instantly—it was where Aragorn dreamed of his time with Arwen. With a grin, Wooyoung sauntered over and lay down on the futon, attempting to recreate the scene once again. You stood where the she-elf had stood, watching him pretend to wake up.

"I am asleep. This is a dream," he recited Aragorn's words, and you burst into a small giggle. Settling down beside him, you recited Arwen's line, "Then it is a good dream. Sleep," before leaning down to kiss him as she had.

Deep down, you both wished to stay in this fantasy forever, but you knew you had to part for the story to progress. He sighed as you pulled away. "As much as I'd love to keep staying here with you, the war isn't going to win itself. I'll see you at the end of the story."

You nodded, kissing him again. "See you, Woo." He winked as he got up from his spot. "Don't worry, I won't spare Éowyn a glance."

Laughing, you waved as you watched him go.

You anticipated what was to come next, knowing that it was the day when most of the elves in Rivendell would depart for Valinor, the Undying Lands. It was the moment when Elrond would once again attempt to persuade Arwen to go with them.

As you lay on the futon in your room, watching the white curtains flutter gently in the breeze, you prepared yourself for the inevitable. Just as your thoughts turned to your boyfriend, your father entered, speaking in Sindarin, the Elven language. Remarkably, you comprehended every word.

"It is time. The ships are departing for Valinor. Go now... before it is too late."

Oh boy, here we go.

You immediately sat up from your position to respond, "I have already made my choice." Elrond took a step closer to you. "He is not coming back. Why do you linger here when there is no hope?" You gazed up at him, overwhelmed by the emotions flowing through your being that were Arwen's, as you answered, "There is still hope."

Because you knew there was.

As he continued his monologue, which you had already heard more than once and knew was coming, it still hurt. His words reminded you that no matter what, choosing to be with Aragorn—or in your case, Wooyoung—would only lead to pain. Tears streamed down your cheeks, his words echoing the sentiments you had heard from your parents when they desperately tried to separate you and your boyfriend, telling you he could not offer you much and that you would only end up regretting your decision.

"There is nothing for you here. Only death," he uttered, and your heart broke despite expecting those words. The words sounded eerily familiar to what you had heard in a different context, where Wooyoung would not be able to bring you everlasting happiness and his perceived incompetence would eventually disappoint you.

No, that's not true...

But you felt a new emotion when Elrond sat down beside you, looking down at you with so much pain in his eyes. You could see he was not ready to lose his daughter. It must have been cruel for him that his daughter was choosing to die and leave his side.

He wiped your tears away gently. "Do I not also have your love?"

For once, you empathised with his feelings and wondered if this was how your parents felt. You used to view Elrond as the bad guy for constantly trying to separate his daughter from the man she loved. Were your parents also like him? Were they afraid of losing you? Maybe they just didn't know your boyfriend well enough and didn't trust him yet to take care of you. You felt yourself crumbling under the weight of these thoughts.

"You have my love, father," you cried as he enveloped you in his arms. Perhaps you were a bad daughter, not for choosing to be with Wooyoung, but for failing to help your parents understand why you chose him.

If you couldn't ease your parents' worries in reality, perhaps you could do it here for your fictional father. You were certain Wooyoung would understand; none of this was real anyway. He was still yours, and you would always be his. Maybe, just maybe here, you could be a good daughter to Elrond.

Joining the rest of the elves and making your way towards the ship to Valinor, you couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty gnawing at you. Despite your initial determination to stand firm in your decision to pick your boyfriend, you found yourself swept along with the crowd. Just like Arwen, you were heading towards the Undying Lands.

However, unlike her, you didn't have the vision of her child with Aragorn to sway your decision. You already knew how her story ended. Perhaps it was up to you to create a different ending.

Forgive me, Woo.

As the story reached its climax and the victory over Sauron marked the beginning of a new era for Middle-earth, everything seemed to pass in a blur. Finally, it was Aragorn's coronation in Minas Tirith, and Wooyoung turned around excitedly after Gandalf placed the crown on his head. Throughout the events, he had fun experiencing what the ranger did, but his thoughts were consumed by you. Maybe living the lives of the main characters was more burdensome than enjoyable.

After exchanging words with Legolas and anticipating your arrival, Wooyoung turned expectantly, only to find you missing. You did not appear the way Arwen did for Aragorn. The realisation dawned on him with dread—if you weren't there, it could only mean you must have left for Valinor. He approached Lord Elrond, whose expression remained unreadable, and asked, "Did she...?"

As your father bowed his head slightly and offered a pat on the shoulder, Wooyoung's heart sank like a stone. The weight of the realisation pressed down on him: you had chosen to leave. But why?

What had prompted you to go, despite your promise to reunite with him here? Had Elrond's words swayed you? Did they somehow make you see that perhaps your parents had been right all along? You had warned him not to let the emotions of his character overwhelm him, but had you succumbed to them yourself? These questions swirled in his mind, leaving him grasping for answers.

"She hoped you'd understand," Elrond said.

Your boyfriend offered a humourless smirk. "That I'd understand...? I suppose I do."

"Do you really? Tell me what you understand then," your voice chimed in from behind him, causing him to whirl around with wide eyes. There you stood, a mischievous grin lighting up your face. "Surprise, Jung Wooyoung. Did you think I wasn't going to come back to you?" you whispered, prompting him to cup your face tenderly. "You little minx," he muttered before capturing your lips in a loving kiss, eliciting cheers from the crowd.

As you pulled away and embraced him, you caught sight of your father's gaze. The expression on Lord Elrond’s face as he let his daughter go was a mix of love, fear, and vulnerability. It was the look of a father releasing his child to pursue something he didn’t entirely approve of but knew would bring her happiness. He struggled to maintain his composure, torn between his paternal instincts and the desire to see you happy. That night, you eventually broke away from the group bound for Valinor and returned to Rivendell, much like Arwen did. Your mind was filled with thoughts of Wooyoung, and you knew you could never let him go—neither in your world nor in this one.

"You know, I was just thinking... being the main character really isn't all it's cracked up to be," your boyfriend mused as you both lay in the King's chambers.

With your head nestled on his chest, you nodded, "I agree. It made me feel way too much emotion. But... I do think it's time I talk to my parents about us. They're my parents, and you're the love of my life. I can't imagine life without either of you. Hopefully, they'll be as understanding as Elrond was."

He smiled, pulling you closer, "Yeah, maybe we should have made more effort before."

Cuddling closer to him, you continued, "Yes, maybe... but yeah, we've already played the roles of both new and main characters. Perhaps it'd be nice to simply exist in a story without importance just like extras."

He sighed, kissing your head, "That does sound nice... We'll just be spectators, enjoying our place in the universe."

Closing your eyes, you sensed a peculiar shift in your surroundings, almost like you were on a train. When you opened your eyes again, you furrowed your brows in confusion. You were still in Wooyoung's arms, but Middle-earth was nowhere to be seen.

Shaking your boyfriend awake, you felt his body tense beside you as he tightened his grip on you. With a gasp, he absorbed the new setting. Indeed, you were on a train, but not just any train...

The Hogwarts Express.

Locking eyes, you whispered in unison, "We're going to Hogwarts."

As if on cue, the lady pushing the trolley of sweets appeared, her voice chirping, "Anything from the trolley, dears?"

Before you could decline, Wooyoung swiftly released you and darted forward. "Ooh, yes! Two pumpkin pasties, please! I've always wanted to try them," he exclaimed, rubbing his palms together eagerly.

You tugged at his shirt, glaring, and silently mouthed, "Do we even have any money?" He froze, realisation dawning, and reached into his pockets. With a sigh of relief, he produced some coins. Winking at you, he grinned, "Don't worry, love. I've got this."

As he finished the purchase, he lingered by the door, watching with wide eyes as the lady rolled her trolley to the next compartment. With his jaw dropped in awe, he turned to you, whispering excitedly, "Oh my god, it's Harry Potter! Holy crap, the Golden Trio is in the next compartment."

Rushing back to settle beside you, he handed you a pumpkin pasty and began talking animatedly while stuffing his face, his words muffled, "I recognised that look on him. We're in the fourth year."

You raised a brow, "Goblet of Fire."

He nodded eagerly, "Exactly. The Triwizard Tournament and, most importantly," you both said in unison, "the Yule Ball."

You pondered, "Hold on a second. If we're in the fourth year, then that would mean we've already been sorted. Which houses do you think we're in, Woo?"

He grinned, "Only one way to find out," as he reached for your suitcases from the rack above your seats.

With bated breath, you watched him work on opening them. "Let's hope we're in the same house. It would be funny if you ended up in Slytherin somehow," you remarked.

He scoffed, "No way, I'm a Gryffindor through and through. Wanna bet?"

You shook your head, "No, thank you."

He pouted, "I was going to ask for a kiss if I won the bet, darn it."

You chuckled, "Hurry up, you rascal."

As he opened the first suitcase, he grinned at you, revealing the red Gryffindor scarf along with his uniform. "I told you," he chuckled before moving on to the next one. "Keep your fingers crossed, love," he urged. And you did. When he finally opened them, you couldn't contain your joy at seeing the same scarf along with your robes.

Moments later, the two of you stood in awe at the unbelievable sight of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry before your eyes. Your eyes welled with tears as you squeezed Wooyoung's hand. "We're here, Woo. We're really here," you whispered.

He nodded, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "We are."

Before you could continue revelling in the moment, a nearby prefect rolled his eyes. "Move along, you two. You act like it's your first time here," he said with a shake of his head. Your boyfriend tugged you along as you blew a raspberry, muttering under your breath, "Because it is."

Entering the castle, you noticed a crowd gathering by the bridge, evidently anticipating something exciting. Gasping in excitement, you quickly pulled Wooyoung along. "We have to see this! It's the arrival of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students."

As the Beauxbatons arrived in their majestic flying carriage and the Durmstrang in their impressive underwater ship, your boyfriend's attention remained solely on you. Sensing his gaze, you turned to share a smile. "That's right, keep your eyes on me just like that. I better not catch you gawking at the Beauxbatons girls when they make their grand entrance later," you teased.

He laughed and drew you close, whispering in your ear, "Don't worry, you're prettier than all of them combined."

Blushing, you looked away. "Pssh, sweet talker," you responded with a playful roll of your eyes, unable to suppress your grin.

But as the girls from the foreign school made their entrance, dancing into the Great Hall later that evening, you couldn't stifle a snort at Wooyoung's reaction. Like Ron, he was clapping enthusiastically, clearly impressed by the display.

Pfft, all men do is lie.

Beside you, Hermione and Ginny exchanged judgemental stares, mirroring your own sentiments. It was hard to contain your amusement as you watched the boys.

When the guys from Durmstrang made their grand entrance, you found yourself staring dreamily ahead, just like Wooyoung had done with the Beauxbatons girls. Thankfully, your boyfriend didn't discriminate; he seemed just as entranced by the dashing and charismatic Viktor Krum as you were.

You burst into giggles when he finally met your gaze with wide eyes. It was his fanboying moment, and you couldn't blame him because you felt exactly the same. You still couldn't believe you were really here with him. Sure, you had already been to Narnia and Middle-earth, but the Wizarding World held a special place in both your hearts.

The next day, seated beside your boyfriend in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, you both observed with amusement as Mad-Eye Moody began his lesson. The students appeared bewildered by his aggressive demeanour and uncomfortable lecture on the three Unforgivable Curses.

Wooyoung leaned in to whisper in your ear, "What do you think would happen if we exposed him as Barty Crouch Jr right here?"

You turned to shush him with a glare. "We're just extras here, so please act like it and avoid drawing any attention to ourselves."

The rest of the class unfolded exactly as you had anticipated, with Harry growing increasingly suspicious of Moody as the professor continued to gulp down his Polyjuice potion. You and Wooyoung exchanged knowing grins, rooting for him.

After class, you both hurried excitedly to the Great Hall, where students interested in participating in the Triwizard Tournament were submitting their names. Settling on a bench, you watched in fascination as the blue flame flickered brightly, students from all three schools stepping forward to cast their papers into the fire.

Your hearts sank when you saw Cedric Diggory eagerly submitting his name. If only he knew the tragic fate that awaited him.

"I suppose there's nothing we can do about it, huh?" Wooyoung asked, his tone heavy with resignation.

You shook your head sadly. "I'm afraid not."

The sombre mood only lasted so long as the Weasley twins, Fred and George, appeared with their usual antics, brandishing their ageing potion in hopes of submitting their names to the Triwizard Tournament despite Hermione's reminder that only seventh-years could participate, you and your boyfriend couldn't contain your laughter. True to your expectations, the twins were ejected back from the goblet, sprouting white beards and sparking a playful fight that drew a crowd of onlookers egging them on.

However, the atmosphere shifted when Viktor Krum marched in with his headmaster trailing behind him. You and Wooyoung shared a giggle as the Durmstrang heartthrob locked eyes with Hermione.

Leaning in, you whispered in a hushed tone, "If not Harry, I still prefer Hermione with Viktor over Ron, to be honest."

Your boyfriend feigned offence, pressing a hand to his chest. "How could you? Hermione and Ron are the one true pair."

As the two of you engaged in your heated debate, time flew by and the next thing you knew, Dumbledore entered the hall with most of the students, announcing, "Now, the moment you've all been waiting for: the champion selection." Exchanging a knowing glance with your boyfriend, you both sighed in anticipation. "Oh dear, here we go."

As Dumbledore announced Viktor, Fleur, and Cedric as the champions of their respective schools, you held your breath, feeling a twinge of sympathy for Harry Potter, the boy who lived. "Excellent! We now have our three champions!" boomed Dumbledore, his voice reverberating through the hall before unveiling the Triwizard Cup.

You winced, murmuring under your breath, "Only one more to go."

Beside you, your boyfriend shook his head with a hint of amusement. "Man, if only they knew the Cup was turned into a Portkey, none of that drama would happen."

You pursed your lips thoughtfully. "Yes, and then there would be no more story to tell now, would there?"

He snorted softly. "True."

As Harry's name was called out, disbelief swept through the Great Hall. You watched with a sinking feeling as even his friends began to stare at him accusatorily, wondering how he managed to enter his name into the Goblet of Fire when he was only a fourth year.

Your eyes landed on Mad-Eye Moody, or rather Barty Crouch Jr in disguise, knowing he was behind this sinister plot. Exchanging hopeless gazes with Wooyoung, you both understood that, at this moment, you were nothing more than spectators. There was no action you could take; you were simply here to witness events unfold.

Perhaps, as much as you wish otherwise, some things were simply meant to be. Your boyfriend covered your hand with his, offering comfort. "Since we can't change anything here, let's not stress about it and just enjoy the moment, hm?"

A smile graced your lips, and you nodded. "You're right, Woo."

"There he is—the poor thing."

You both were hanging out in the courtyard, enjoying the calm before the storm of the Triwizard Tournament's first task, when you spotted Harry passing through, looking visibly distressed. Your sympathy for him grew as you remembered the strained dynamics between him and his friends. Ron and the others firmly believed that Harry had somehow entered his name into the tournament and deliberately kept it from them. It was disheartening to see no one on his side, and you felt frustrated on his behalf.

As expected, Draco Malfoy, with his trademark smugness, decided to provoke him. "My father and I had a bet, you see," he said, dropping down from his perch on the tree. "I don't think you're going to last ten minutes in the tournament." His cronies followed suit as he continued, "He disagrees; he thinks you won't last five."

You and Wooyoung watched as Harry retaliated, standing up to the blonde Slytherin with fiery determination. "I don't care what your father thinks, Malfoy! He's vile and cruel, and you're pathetic."

Just as expected, Draco attempted to strike back, only to be swiftly turned into a ferret by Mad-Eye Moody, eliciting laughter from the crowd. It was perhaps the only time you agreed with Barty Crouch Jr's actions, the only moment he seemed remotely likeable.

However, the amusement was short-lived as Professor McGonagall appeared to play the role of the good cop, firmly instructing Moody to release the bully from his transfiguration punishment.

"My father will hear about this!" Draco's famous words echoed across the courtyard as he hurried away from the scene he caused. Though Wooyoung knew he shouldn't interfere, his irritated state got the best of him, prompting him to slyly stick out his foot and trip the Slytherin as he passed by the two of you.

"How dare you!" Draco hissed, glaring up at your boyfriend.

Gasping, you dragged Wooyoung away with you, shouting, "Sorry, he didn't mean it!"

From across the courtyard, you caught Harry's eye and saw him nod appreciatively at both of you. Wooyoung beamed, waving enthusiastically before watching him go.

Turning back to your boyfriend, you smacked him lightly on the arm. "You! I can't believe you did that," you chided.

Wooyoung stuck his tongue out playfully. "Well, it sure feels satisfying, doesn't it? Besides, Harry acknowledged us."

You sighed, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I suppose so."

The next day, you found yourselves seated among the crowd at the stands, eagerly awaiting the commencement of the first task: retrieving a golden egg guarded by a dragon. "Bets, place your bets!" Fred's voice rang out, followed closely by George's enthusiastic calls for wagers. "Bets taken, bets taken here!"

As the twins walked around, collecting bets on who would win first place, you sensed your boyfriend about to place a bet himself. With a disapproving click of your tongue, you shook your head. "It wouldn't be fair when you already know who wins!"

He shushed you with a grin. "All the more reason to place my bet! When else will I ever be this lucky, love?"

Resigned, you gave up and shook your head in mock exasperation.

As you watched the first three champions' attempts with bated breath, your nerves were on edge despite knowing they would emerge unscathed. Sensing your anxiety, Wooyoung took your hand and pressed his lips to the back of it. "Hey, it's going to be okay. You already know how it ends."

With a sigh of defeat, you leaned into his side, seeking comfort in his warmth as he wrapped an arm around you. "You're right, I do know," you murmured softly.

Your thoughts drifted to Cedric, and a pang of sadness washed over you as you remembered his tragic fate. It was difficult to watch him knowing what awaited him, but you found solace in your boyfriend's reassuring presence.

When it was finally Harry's turn, you couldn't tear your eyes away from the task, despite knowing the outcome. Every moment felt tense and fraught with danger, and you held your breath until he emerged victorious, tied with Viktor for first place.

Reflecting on the experience, you realised that being part of the scene was far more stressful than reading about it or watching it in a movie, especially when you cared deeply for the people involved.

As the Gryffindor common room buzzed with excitement and everyone crowded around Harry that evening, who proudly displayed his golden egg containing a clue for the second task, you and Wooyoung hung back, observing from a distance. Amidst the cheering and clamour, you both knew what was coming next.

When Seamus tossed the egg back to Harry, urging him to reveal the clue, you exchanged knowing glances. As he held the egg aloft and asked the crowd if they wanted him to open it, the room erupted in enthusiastic agreement. But you and your boyfriend were prepared. With a shared understanding, you plugged your ears, bracing yourselves for the inevitable shrieking noise.

Oh, you're all going to regret that.

As expected, the piercing screech from the golden egg sent everyone in the common room to their knees, hands clamped over their ears in a futile attempt to block out the noise. Amidst the chaos, Harry quickly shut the egg, bringing a momentary relief from the ear-splitting sound.

"What the bloody hell was that?"

Ron's abrupt entrance, punctuated by his exclamation, broke the tension in the room, casting a palpable awkwardness between him and Harry. The silence stretched, thick with the weight of unspoken tension, until one of the twins intervened.

"Alright, everyone, go back to your... knitting," Fred declared, breaking the spell of discomfort. "This is going to be uncomfortable enough without all you nosey sods listening in."

The crowd dispersed, giving the two friends the privacy they needed to reconcile. As Ron and Harry finally made amends, you and Wooyoung shared a smile, feeling genuinely happy for Harry. For now, at least, things were looking up. And the best part of it all was yet to come—the Yule Ball.

You and Wooyoung exchanged eager glances as McGonagall began the dance lesson to prepare everyone in Gryffindor for the ball. Dancing had always been a fun pastime for the two of you, but now, being able to do it alongside your favourite characters and in your favourite fantasy world filled you with excitement.

As the professor made poor Ron demonstrate a dance with her, eliciting stifled laughter from the onlookers, she finally called out, "Everyone, come together! Boys, on your feet!" The girls eagerly stood up, ready to dance, while the boys groaned, leaving Neville and your boyfriend as the only ones rising from their seats.

"Wow, you're really lucky," Hermione remarked from beside you as Wooyoung made his way towards you. Unlike the others who struggled to find partners, you didn't have to worry. "He's hardly ever far from your side. You both seem genuinely in love."

You nodded, offering a shy smile, "Thank you, I believe so too."

As he pulled you into his arms and started dancing alongside Neville and Ginny, Wooyoung couldn't resist asking, "So, what did Hermione say to you?" You playfully stuck your tongue out at him, teasing, "Wouldn't you like to know?" He pouted, drawing his forehead close to yours. "Please, I really would like to know," he pleaded.

You chuckled, giving in to his curiosity. "She said I was lucky to have you, and that we seemed really in love." His playful grin shifted into a sincere one. "Well, she's right about that," he admitted warmly.

You smirked, teasing him further. "To be fair, when is Hermione Granger ever wrong?"

He shrugged, conceding the point. "Hmm, I guess you're right."

The following days were filled with hilarity as you witnessed Harry and Ron's struggles to find dates for the ball. The ginger's dramatic theatrics, particularly after embarrassing himself while trying to ask Fleur Delacour, provided endless entertainment. Meanwhile, poor Harry faced rejection from Cho Chang, who had already accepted Cedric's invitation.

From your corner of the couch, you and Wooyoung snickered at their misfortunes. Eventually, they settled on asking Padma and Parvati Patil. Before you knew it, you were also preparing for the ball. Like magic, you and your boyfriend found your dream outfits in your dorm wardrobe, ready to make a grand entrance at the event.

While your boyfriend had shown you his outfit for the event, you opted to surprise him later in the evening. Inspired by Hermione's iconic entrance, you planned to arrive early and make your own grand appearance without overshadowing her.

Wooyoung waited patiently outside the Great Hall, his heart quickening at the sight of the beautifully decorated winter-themed hall. "Hey, isn't that your girl?" Cedric nudged him, directing his attention to the staircase. Following the Hufflepuff's gesture, his breath caught as he watched you descend, momentarily capturing the crowd's attention with your shy smile.

With graceful steps, you made your way down in an off-shoulder black floor-length dress, adorned with delicate gold patterns that exuded elegance and regality. Unlike others, you chose to leave your hair down, adding a touch of effortless charm to your appearance. Despite having seen you in numerous stunning gowns from Narnia and Middle-earth, you never failed to leave him awestruck with your beauty. Perhaps he was biased, but to him, you were the most captivating presence in the room. And being his favourite colour, black only enhanced your allure in his eyes.

He whispered, "I'm the luckiest man alive, I swear," and you giggled. "Stop it, you," you playfully chided as you fixed his slightly crooked bow. As you did, he gently tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear and continued, "I mean it. You're the most beautiful girl here."

You nodded, leaning in to peck his lips before replying, "And you're the most handsome boy here." His cheeky grin widened, and he responded smugly, "I know."

Pulling you gently towards the hall, he said, "Let's go eat before all the dancing starts."

The night passed in a whirlwind of dancing, with Wooyoung holding you close throughout, growing protective whenever he sensed other guys eyeing you. As the event gradually wound down, you found yourselves still on the dance floor, swaying together.

Slowly, a sense of drowsiness began to wash over you. Maybe it was time to return to reality. You knew what would come next in the story, and with the impending challenges and heartaches, you weren't sure you wanted to witness it firsthand. Perhaps it was best to leave the Wizarding World on a high note, with fond memories.

You exchanged smiles with Neville and Ginny, who were also enjoying the moment nearby. Then, you sighed and rested your head on your boyfriend's shoulder, feeling his reassuring embrace. "Woo?" you murmured.

He kissed your cheek softly. "Yes, love?"

Tightening your hold around his shoulders, you snuggled into the crook of his neck. "I'm tired... I think I'm ready to go home."

He smiled, his heart growing warm at the thought of home as he leaned his head against yours. "Me too. I guess that's enough adventure for now."

Living out his fantasies had been incredible, but perhaps he, too, was starting to feel a bit homesick and ready to return home.

He gently stroked your hair as his eyelids grew heavy. Sometimes, the allure of escaping into fantasy worlds was irresistible, offering a temporary reprieve from the challenges of reality. But as the quiet settled around, Wooyoung knew that no matter how enchanting these worlds might be, they were only temporary escapes.

The surroundings gradually quieted, and when he opened his eyes again, he found himself back in the comforting familiarity of your shared bedroom. You were nestled in his arms, peacefully asleep, and he had never felt more relieved. Drawing the covers snugly around you, he felt a deep sense of contentment settle within him.

"Home. We're home," he whispered, finally allowing himself to drift off into a restful sleep, grateful to be back where he truly belonged with you by his side.

This is as good as a compilation of some of my favourite parts from these film series. I know this might not be for everyone, but I wrote this mainly just to fulfil my own fantasies hehe.🙈

If you've made it this far, thank you for reading! Are you also a fan of these AUs? Let me know in the comments! <3

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[running-with-kn1ves]

I have enjoyed your some of stories! You are a wonderful writer and I'd like to request a story if you don't mind.

(Kinda related to you mimic one)

Can I get a Yandere male monster that traps the reader in an endless fourth-dimension-like plane? Their they are trapped in a place (whatever you decide) with the monster that endlessly stalks them with mimic appearances or voices, gaslights, acts psychology cruel, and is generally highly manipulative. The creature loves the reader but loves in an utterly devoted alien way.

No non-con. Toxic/forced relationship but no non-con. Plus, I've also believed that any truly alien/nonhuman creature wouldn't think nor desire sex in the same way as us humans do.

I hope you consider my request and have a great day!

A/N: This was sent in a WHILE ago, but here is my interpretation!

CW: Sleep paralysis-like/mimic creachure, kidnapping (?), possessive dialogue & behavior, nightmares, etc. 

Synopsis: You wake up to something staring at you from the end of your bed.

Apparently no matter how many melatonin gummies you take, your sleep is not guaranteed to be a peaceful, long-term slumber. You too, can be awoken in a deep sweat while stuck to your mattress by an unseen shadow figure in the corner of your room. A couple nights ago it was in-between your closet doors, but something about that just wasn’t close enough, apparently.

It reached the end of your bed, black blurred fingers reaching up like the cold beneath your blankets, your ankle crushed by the grip of a frigid hand. It drew you forward, sliding you unceremoniously to the end of the bed. Your eyes were frozen, going watery as your body cramped. fear turned your skin into needles with your heart on the verge of exploding inside of you.

 Each time ‘it’ came to visit you, it was enough to paralyze you in a suffering state of fright. You thought sleep paralysis demon’s were supposed to stay in their corners, just barely touching the tips of your toes, keeping you frozen in fear from a distance. But this, it came to huff on you with damp breath, always feeling unbelievably real, even in the achy mornings. 

You were slid to the edge of the bed, silent screams unable to escape from your mouth as each leg disappeared into darkness, the rest of your body slowly following. You were being dragged into some dark, fuzzy hole of emptiness, yanked completely in by a twisting arm. It circled around your ankles entirely like shackles, turning your feet purple. 

Your wide, dilated eyes were shifted from seeing the spinning blades of your ceiling fan, to the stary black of a rippled room of infinity. The “sky,” twinkled with small dots of light, but they sparkled in a way most stars didn’t. The ground wasn’t wet, but it seemed to flow over you, like waves of blurry obsidian sea brushing against the sides of your body. 

The collective cackling of grainy, laughtrack voices in sync rang out. It was a flashbang of noise in the echoing universe, this other realm repeating sound differently than you had ever heard before. 

“So easy…. Too easy!”

You recognized the voice to be from one of the characters in the show you watched before going to bed… but you couldn’t remember, who it belonged to. It was masculine, almost game show host-esque in inflection. 

You swallowed. You felt worse, frozen in this infinity pool of unknown, trapped to the floor and completely exposed to whatever dragged you in here.

‘Wake up.’ You scrunched your eyes shut. ‘Wake up…!’ Your toes wiggled, still feeling that abyss of dark ‘water.’ ‘Please just wake up!’ 

“There’s no use, not when I have your body here stuck in limbo.” 

The face of your 10th grade “boyfriend” appeared, peering down at you with his post-braces teeth, shining like a shark. But that wasn’t him, it wasn’t even his skin. Parts of him were twisted and too fractured, blurred out as if details of what he truly looked like were manufactured to be hidden. 

The beast, it had his voice though. 

“You looked so vulnerable while sleeping, turning blissfully frightened when you saw me hiding…” He laughed with a snort, a trait your highschool 5-second ‘lover’ often let out. 

But that face was quickly peeled off by black fingers, blurry ones, those that ripped you from your bed. The dark mass left behind turned into a handsome young surgeon, one on the telenovela your friend had forced you to watch the other day. He was famous in Brazil, often for playing the devious, unexpected villain. 

You could see the smile in his eyes before he took of the surgical mask, piercing greens big and bright with cheekbones sharper than the scalpel he killed his victims with. 

You could hardly mumble between your tight lips, frozen as a gloved hand ran down your navel.

“I’ve seen what humans look like on the inside… but you make me so curious.” He spoke, slight portuguese accent snuffed by a long black tongue glazing over his full lips. “But I would never hurt my sweetly gentle creature, who couldn’t help but walk into my den… Should’ve been more careful in your dreams, my dear.” 

“Wht’re talkin’ abt…” Cold drops fell down your neck, lips sewn shut as your gaze unwavered against the demon surgeon. His soft pupils were growing large enough to consume him. 

“Our little, how do you say.. Date.”  His pearly teeth disappeared and swirled into a new face, a 2D one of your childhood cartoon crush, the one you had the pleasure of lucid dreaming a cuddle session of. He had needed your help, desperate and despairing as he was stuck behind a midnight-colored, steel door. “Only you can open it.” He ushered, muffled behind the lock as he pleaded for release. He sounded so guttural, so unlike how you remembered in the hundreds of episodes… 

But that smug, one-liner attitude and charming face that taught you love as a child came through and it praised you for such kindness. He was so flattering, your consciousness wrapped around his finger as the character of your dreams fed you sweet line after line. 

“Have you never heard of leaving unknown doors closed in the unconscious world? Or were you too dense-headed to realize some dreams are too good to be true.” Your cartoon crush spat, A clawed hand coming up to pinch your cheek. 

“Then again if you hadn’t been so brainless, we wouldn’t get to be here together. I guess I have you to thank for making you so… capturable.”

You clenched your teeth, wincing with every painful beat of your heart the closer the creature came. It morphed from your beloved character to a faceless black void, red filling where its features should be. With a ragged snap, its breathing left in chopped pieces. Out sprouted its teeth, protruding from cracks in its ink skin, splitting in its sternum and human-like arms. Along the middle of its fadingly red-black face, layers of teeth were rubbed over with individual tongues. They all seemed to speak, to breathe in rhythm as they chomped and let out guttural purrs. 

“Plsz…Let m..go..!” You gurgled out, the sensation of its black wholeness wrapping around you like a blanket fort.

From its- his? Confession, you concluded he must be the reason your body’s been stuck in a deep sweat, spasming muscles immovable besides shaking against each other. 

Tendrils made of something similar to the thick fog crashing waves over you began to wrap around your legs, leaving a thick, snail slime against your skin with each slow slither. The tips of them had a mind of their own, tentacles swirling, tickling and inching as their latter, larger midparts connected to the shadow beast hanging above you. Each new textured offspring latched and crawled up your body, dragging you closer and closer to the lower half of the beast. Its humanoid-shaped head tilted, fingers-- not tentacles, this time-- grappled at your arms stuck to your sides. Its eyes began to sprout, polka-dotting his body as an array of eyes covered his void of a face.

“You wouldn't be able to live without me… those blissful dreams with whatever handsome creature preoccupied your subconscious. I'm all of them, and they are me.” A black gooey tendril circled around your cheek, the tip wiggling to caress. “I am the prince charming you have run to, night after night, begging to be let out of that hole until you finally caved.” Faces flashed on his empty skin, ones you faintly remember from past dreams that always seemed to make your heart skip a beat. Our rendezvous kept me going all this time..So long i’ve watched you in the waking world from the shadows, wishing I could hold that pretty, unaware face.. My savior, my pet; I'm finally free to trap you for myself!”

He flashed to red again, the tendrils and hands keeping you still staying all the same, before the horrors’ face returned to a horrifying amalgamation of teeth and haunting black eyes. 

You wriggled the small bits of your body that were free from paralysis, however that only seemed to be your tongue and toes, your arms jerking only minutely despite the screams inside your head telling you to move. Wherever you were, whatever time it was, it wasn't the same as your bedroom. You were limitless, the space around you nothing but a black hole sucking up everything around it into nothing. 

You hardly recalled the dreams it mentioned, The faces only barely ringing a bell. But it was enough for him to see the familiarity flash in your eyes, a smile piercing that mouth of a face that looked as if it wanted to devour you. 

“so tender.. so soft, I forgot what it was like having a human nearby at my disposal, receiving the flush of my form and my affection.. I'm afraid I'll never have the heart to free you from my burdened presence.” it chuckled a tad, fingers from its firmly real hands gliding to your shoulders. “Well, to be honest I never intended to, the moment I entered your sweet nightmares...”

You dared to think of speaking, only to find your mouth in a crumpled frown and the air in your chest nearly gone. It felt like you were suffocating under a great weight, sweating under your pajamas as a creature-like nail came to wipe away a drop of perspiration, or a tear, from your eye. 

“Now, let's see what fun we can have here before the sun comes up.”

[quills-of-freedom]

Short ~

Safe 💕

Captain Levi comforting you during a night terror.

Warnings: None.

Something stirred Levi from his sleep. He wasn’t sure what - but with his trauma ridden brain, the slightest noise would easily rouse the stoic captain with a startled snap. 

His eyes fly open, his cold steely grey’s scanning the darkness blindly as he bolts to a sitting up position; the sheets spilling off him and baring his muscular top half to the fresh air of the bedroom. 

He still felt your warmth beside him, so his survival Ackerman instincts didn’t immediately feel any concern for you. 

Until he heard the noise that had woken him again. 

 A ghost of a whimper left your lips; his confused and squinted eyes trying to focus on your form in the darkness as your arm twitches slightly in your sleep.

He relaxes a little - no immediate danger was detected. 

 Running his hand through his raven black hair, his thoughts were conflicted. He knew it was difficult for you to sleep, hell it was for him too. Would this obvious nightmare pass, or should he wake you from your slumber? A frown pulls at his mouth as your whimper becomes more desperate, as if possessed by an entity from another world, begging for help within whatever twisted dimension you were stuck in. 

He knows all too well about the hellish landscapes the subconscious can carve out, so he gently places his warm palm over the back of your hand and gives it a little squeeze. Hopefully, that would be enough to guide your mind back to your body, or at least ease you into a more peaceful void. 

But that vibration of a whimper becomes a hysteric sob, choking your throat as your movements become more erratic, jerking and thrashing within the sheets. Panic rises up within Levi’s chest as you bat his hand away, your skin beginning to coat in a cold sweat, the sheets becoming a mangled mess around your urgent movements. 

“Y/n…” He calls firmly yet softly, catching your forearms and holding you still, yet your legs still kicked and your tears broke through into the physical realm, pouring down your cheeks. 

“Y/n!” He barks more loudly, giving you a shake.

 Your eyelids fly open and you sit up quickly, almost nutting your lover in the face as he flinches back. 

“You alright?” He frowns. 

It had happened before and he hated it. He hated how the world you both live in taints such a wonderful, loveable mind. 

You’re not sure where you are for a moment, stuck in the limbo of the nightmare and reality, your eyes scanning. 

“It’s Levi…” He soothes, running his hand down your back in comfort. “You’re okay now.” 

His gentle voice guides you as you remember your dream, your sobs becoming more uncontrolled as the images you’d seen flash before your eyes. 

“Hey, shh…” He soothes, pulling you into a warm embrace. 

His lips kiss the top of your head and his eyes flicker up to the ceiling, hiding the angst he was feeling from seeing the person he loves so distressed when they should be feeling so safe - in his arms. 

“It’s okay.” He repeats, rocking you gently. “Hey. You can tell me all about it.” 

You nod as you palm away your tears, Levi leaning and flicking on the bedside light, the shadows and malicious demon realm cowering away from the warm glow.. 

 He listens. He listens every single time. He’ll hold you close, Levi Ackerman’s heartbeat soothing you to a monotonous rhythm as he circles his thumb around your arm, always always making you feel warm, safe and loved. 

 It’s a side of Levi not many people get to see. But my god, does it exist. And it’s fucking beautiful. 

[oraclebell17]

oh also. just for fun. here's a PRE THREE HOPES RELEASE arval fic i did because i was obsessed with them from the start

–

I opened my eyes.

I could see a dark void, sparsely lit by lines of a strange blue. The world was dim, colorless. A figure stood in the world, one that wasn’t me.

His eyes were white, just as his skin and hair was. He observed me for a time. 

Me, within this cocoon of liquid and warmth. Strings from above were connected to my skin, small pinpricks to my senses. 

The one outside of my glass cocoon moved towards me, moved his hands against a board I had not seen before.

A fire filled the points where the strings connected to my body, spread quickly throughout my body, agonized it. But it was impossible to struggle. Impossible to fight against the pain. My mind, heart, and being screamed with defiance, yet the water consumed my voice and movements.

It came to a stop after a while, and now I saw another at the first one’s side. His body was hunched, and one eye was larger than the other. They both watched me now, how I recovered from the flames filling my veins. 

And I looked upon them with scorn, as I knew they held me in no higher regard than the earth they walked. Little more compassion to me than a worm stomped under their foot.

They left me alone in the void and the lights and the shell that held my body. My ability to think slowed, and though I fought against it, it eventually overwhelmed me. I fell into a slumber, where I dreamed..

–

A vast battlefield sprawled out before me, hundreds of thousands fighting within the great plains. There were those that I watched closer than others. Some specks of orange-red stuck out amongst the darkened land. Those that seemed familiar.

I raised my head as an immense winged being flew towards me, fire spewing from its jaws.

“Seiros,” I whispered, despite not knowing the name. The dragon- the beast slowed itself with a beat of its grand wings and threw its head back.

I made an upwards motion to my allies, signaled them to shield us from the oncoming attack. And so they did. A barrier separated us from the beast who sought to kill us.

But it wasn’t enough.

The beam of light and fire of Seiros’ maw reached the shield, put pressure on all of us, and broke it. It would destroy all of us.

Who was “us”?

–

I was still within the dream realms, yet despite knowing that, something was off. 

My body did not feel both light and weighed down as the dream world me did. Nor could I sense the wrappings of warm water and touches of needles against my skin, like true reality. This was different. The world surrounding me was.. different.

Another void, but not the same. Instead of steady lines trailing from floor to ceiling, a cloud of blue-green dust swirled around me, as did chunks of rock and broken structures. Something glimmered against the dark backdrop.

I had little knowledge of where I found myself. I hovered above the ethereal stone below and looked upon my hands, which were just as pale as the two beings that observed me. One went to feel the texture and folds of my clothing, while the other pressed against my cheek, feeling the skin I was unsure if I had felt before. I traced the smooth markings on my nose, my forehead, under my jaw. I breathed in and out, felt my chest rise and fall.

I took care to memorize all of these new sensations. It felt different. Yet I still could not decipher whether I was within a world of my own mind or in a completely different reality. 

It did not frighten me, at least not yet, because I found whatever joy came out of being able to move freely. Outside of the glass casing or the sluggish jerks of my dreams.

Something returned to me within this limbo. Something I knew I had been called before, yet I only now remembered.

My name was Arval.

[pisayers]

Prologue

Ahhhh, Pisay. Where do I even begin with you?

In all honesty, the thought of me graduating hasn’t really hit me hard yet. Sure, there were moments in our last day on campus that a tear droplet nearly fell out of my eyes as I walked through the corridors for one last time, but I can’t really describe what I’m feeling as I’m writing this. I liken it to a state of limbo in which I’m extremely hyped to dip my toes into the realm of college, but also torn to shreds every time I think of the people that I have to leave behind in the process.

If you ask me what I remember from my Pisay life for the past six years, the default answer I would give would probably be the grandest events. Buwan ng Wika with the best quartet in Pisay CARC history: Edryll, Maron, RP, Jamil. The field trip where I visited spots in Baguio for the very first time as a born and raised Baguio boy. Food Fair with my best performance as a dead weight. Pi Day which turned into a two-week break which turned into a two year blended curriculum. Last Intramurals season with my teammates helping me get to the Mythical 5, shouting out the Grade 12 peeps Wrenzel, Zyr, Paul, Rainier. Prom night. Isko night. My journey to Mt. Pulag. These would probably be the most common themes if you were to survey the batch regarding their best experiences here in this institution. However, what is going through my mind right now are the little things, fleeting moments that will probably be forgotten as years pass, but can’t help reminiscing over because of its raw sentimental value.

The jamming sessions, Harley on the guitar with Andrew blasting his vocals singing Ang Huling El Bimbo for the nth time. The random conversations with Wrenzel and Raizen where Raizen hits you with the most out of the blue question to the point that you can see a large ass question mark on Wrenzel’s forehead. The 3v3s with the teachers, chasing Sir Jed and Sir Ace around screens like they’re Pisay’s version of Steph Curry and Klay Thompson, then proceeding to rotate to Sir Dems or Sir Jo violently backing you down like they’re Nikola Jokic. The pick-and-rolls with Johann, the dude seems to just get it to your hands at the right place at the right time every single possession. The chaotic games with the Grade 9s as Zach tosses up his Manny Pacquiao looking ass jumpshot and Kishan rebounds it to blow the putback layup. The high scores I would get in the English literature quizzes as I compare them with Kimee’s and Leah’s. The Grade 7s flocking around me on the yellow bleachers to dap me up after airballing their shots a whopping 60 times. The bear crawls across the 1st floor as punishment for the District Meet team, Kyle having the goofiest one there. The commute to Aurora Hill with Zyr where he is either in the deepest slumber possible or trying to get an update on my romantic situation. The blue store convos that can reach up to 7pm with Maron, Nicole, Neal, and Sam. The service days with Aya and Leah back when watching them get sermoned was hilarious. The nerve wracking debates, Aira and Pao carry me every time. The post-math LT verification process with Harley explaining what is basic trigonometry to me, The heart-to-hearts with Paul. The times I confessed my feelings. The times I got rejected. The times I cried myself to sleep doubting my physical appearance.

The little things.

Combine them all together and you have a melting pot in which you can experience what my Pisay life was like with just one sip from the ladle. If you notice, it really isn’t any different from a high school life in general. Pisayers get put with so much pressure and mounted expectations that we tend to forget that we’re not just robots churning out requirements, and while Pisay for me meant that in some sort of capacity, it also meant discovering myself more as a newfound adolescent. A sort of Holden Caulfield journey with less travelling around the States and more phony characters in play.

But it worked out in the end. Pretty high GWA. Academic award. Excellence award. Proficiency awards. Competitions under my belt. Personal projects on the side. Somewhat of a nice legacy. Pisay has also granted me the opportunity to see beyond the academic realm and discover who I truly am. No longer was I the valedictorian in elementary who was tasked to do pretty much everything for the image of the school. I needed my own niche. My own bubble. My own universe condensed into the palm of my hands ready to show the world what I can bring to the table.

And so, to end this stream of consciousness…

TO EVERYONE IN PISAY —

THANK YOU!!!!

To my parents, thank you for your unwavering love and support for me. I know it started out rough for me. It was the first guidance counsellor meeting for low grades and the first time I saw a flying saucer related to silverware and not aliens. However, knowing that I had a place where I could be unapologetically me helped in building my own sense of identity, and your caring nature got me to where I am today. To Dad, thank you for the late night snacks, and to Mama, thank you for the weekend dates. I’m going to miss both of you so much in QC.

To my teachers, thank you for imparting your knowledge and wisdom unto me. To be honest, I’m really questioning the real life application in half of the lessons I have learned in my Pisay journey, but one aspect I will never forget is the values and critical thinking skills that were passed down through diffusion along the way. To Ma’am Melai, thank you for always believing in me and my ability for every writing competition I participate in. To Ma’am Melki, thank you for your generosity and warmheartedness that I will treasure forever. To Sir Quantum, thank you for igniting my passion for Physics with your corny jokes and effort in crafting fun practice problems for us. To Ma’am Krystel, thank you for enlisting me in my very first competition, and subsequently increasing my self-confidence tenfold. To Ma’am Sol, thank you for your everloving care for us Stats babies; we really miss you and I hope to see you face to face some time soon. To Sir Arfe, thank you for teaching me how to cook; hopefully I can use it come college time. To Ma’am Abby, thank you for molding my writing ability into its current quality. To Sir Ariel, thank you for your unwavering kindness for our batch and your willingness to help us judge or critique our requirements in other subjects. Lastly, to Ma’am Eden, thank you for being the first teacher to see the potential in me to do great things here in Pisay. It sounded ludicrous at the start, but I’m glad I manifested it.

To my batchmates, from the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!! I know I started off being probably the most obnoxious and arrogant pre-teen in the fabric of space-time, but I am genuinely grateful that you gave me a second chance at life, given that it was probably easier for your mental health to just simply cancel me and cast me off aside as early as Grade 8. I also know that I did and will continue to make mistakes in the future, but I hope you know that I am going through all of these with the subconscious effort of making strides to better myself as a person. I wish you all the best of luck in your future endeavors.

To myself, well, you’re not done. UPD Economics is coming your way. New faces, new campus, new professors, new chinitas, but same old you. Don’t lose that spark inside you that has been igniting your motivation to study for the past 18 years you have been doing this. Don’t marry early either. Wear protection.

Thank you for everything Pisay! I’ll see you when I can.

[drippingheart]

HEAVEN , ALL HIS.

He liked this — even in limbo, in this purgatory which kept him in the womb of stasis where god or men decided his ultimate fate — it was a far better outcome than his life on Earth. He had been alone in a world surrounded by millions of souls, walking in circles. His life had been dictated by anyone except himself. In retrospect, even after he navigated down a different path with hands and feet bloodied, it was the rule of man and that of curses which drove every single one of his actions. It took the manifestation of his abilities, the abandonment of his family, the self deprecation of foul abilities taking their toll, and abandonment again for Getō Suguru to find his daughters.

All in all, the suffering had been worth it to find them, and he would have his guts dredged out by innate ability and beaten down like a vermin to find Mimiko and Nanako time, and time again. There was never a second he regretted putting an entire village to slaughter nor turning his back on a society and friends which, frankly, turned their back on him long before. He did not regret letting his rage consume his mind like a parasite nor the failed tactics leading to his death. Had life been genuinely kind and not a nightmare of forced existence, Suguru would repeat every action until he reached his daughters, and then . . then he would do everything in his power to keep the smiles on their faces until wrinkles formed on his face and his body became one with the earth.

GetōSuguru's only regret. The three of them could have gone to any other country, perhaps where the climate was always warm and tropical fruits gifted each tree. Away from the curses and the source of his madness. Ah. Although purgatory left the sorcerer plenty of time to think, feel, and regret, he did not succumb to his grief and regret for he had known love and happiness; very few people, even non-sorcerers, were fortunate to hold love in their hands. It was warm here. Warm in the sense he did not feel the air, ground, nor his physical body.

A nervous system floating on clouds . . . and then, he was not. The transition should have shocking, but Suguru was in a realm that was not of Earth and did not abide by anything human logic could explain. He had his body as he had remembered it, and while the sensation of being whole and live was returned, he was still surrounded by a cloudy warmth. The sensation of peacefully drifting from slumber to sleep, the barest luminescence of sunshine cradling face. He walked down an impossibly long corridor, past door after door. Conscious was there . . somewhat. Enough to realize what was he was doing but not enough to question his actions.

That's how it worked.

That was how heaven worked.

It just was, and creatures who crossed onto the other side moved and flowed. It could have been the last ivory door at the end of the corridor; it was for him at least. Heaven's instrument guiding him to the door where cries were heard albeit muffled from the other side. He touched the knob, turned in, and what he could only describe as life rushed into him. Colour, the five senses, emotion, and thought. The ivory door turned rich blue in hue when finger tips broke contact, and it closed behind him without a sound whereupon the seams and handle dissolved, blending into the sky. It was dark inside. Outside.

He smelled what was innately nature without a doubt; the nature anyone pent up in a smog consumed city would crave. Perfect. Untouched. The sniffling was loud then, no longer dampened by walls or dimensions of separation. Neither light nor nature emanated from the two huddled bodies as if the children were blind to the beauty around them. Chained down by their own grief. Suguru wondered how long they had been there crying . . how long his daughters had been dead. Oh, how he failed them. He should have been furious and distraught, but no such emotion quaked his heart. They were dead, yes, but they were here.

Finally, they were here with him. A smile of the purest adoration and compassion decorated his lips, and Suguru was no longer the monster people remembered him as, not even as the carefree teenager. He was radiant. A soul at peace. A soul which was utterly whole and loved. They did not hear his approach, however at his approach, a simple three metres away, the gloom surrounding them began dissolving. Light penetrated their depression, and all the flowers in the world bloomed when the crying Mimiko and Nanako raised their heads in tandem to look at their father.

── ❛ Oh, how I missed you two. ❜

Suguru's eyes formed crescents by way the power of his smile manipulated the musculature of his face. And his children bawled. They lunged forward as their father bent over to meet them half way, and the tears of overwhelming elation nurtured the blooming flowers and the malnourished deserts of the world. Papa! Otō-san! Daddy! I love you.

I love you.

I love you!

No longer was there any rage. I'm sorry I left you. No longer was there any sorrow. How they rejoiced in their love as the greenest of grasses formed beneath their feet and the sky was unmarred, streaked with the most beautiful hues of blue, pink, and orange. This was his heaven just as it was that of his daughters. No one could compare, and there was no one else he would spent eternity with.

── ❛ We're finally home. ❜

[colossal-fallout]

Can you do a request for Levi waking up his SO from a really bad night terror, like they are thrashing around and fighting him.

Yes <3 

  Something stirred Levi from his sleep. He wasn’t sure what - but with his trauma ridden brain, the slightest noise would easily rouse the stoic captain with a startled snap. 

His eyes fly open, his cold steely grey’s scanning the darkness blindly as he bolts to a sitting up position; the sheets spilling off him and baring his muscular top half to the fresh air of the bedroom. 

He still felt your warmth beside him, so his survival Ackerman instincts didn’t immediately feel any concern for you. 

Until he heard the noise that had woken him again. 

 A ghost of a whimper left your lips; his confused and squinted eyes trying to focus on your form in the darkness as your arm twitches slightly in your sleep.

He relaxes a little - no immediate danger was detected. 

 Running his hand through his raven black hair, his thoughts were conflicted. He knew it was difficult for you to sleep, hell it was for him too. Would this obvious nightmare pass, or should he wake you from your slumber? A frown pulls at his mouth as your whimper becomes more desperate, as if possessed by an entity from another world, begging for help within whatever twisted dimension you were stuck in. 

He knows all too well about the hellish landscapes the subconscious can carve out, so he gently places his warm palm over the back of your hand and gives it a little squeeze. Hopefully, that would be enough to guide your mind back to your body, or at least ease you into a more peaceful void. 

But that vibration of a whimper becomes a hysteric sob, choking your throat as your movements become more erratic, jerking and thrashing within the sheets. Panic rises up within Levi’s chest as you bat his hand away, your skin beginning to coat in a cold sweat, the sheets becoming a mangled mess around your urgent movements. 

“Y/n...” He calls firmly yet softly, catching your forearms and holding you still, yet your legs still kicked and your tears broke through into the physical realm, pouring down your cheeks. 

“Y/n!” He barks more loudly, giving you a shake.

 Your eyelids fly open and you sit up quickly, almost nutting your lover in the face as he flinches back. 

“You alright?” He frowns. 

It had happened before and he hated it. He hated how the world you both live in taints such a wonderful, loveable mind. 

You’re not sure where you are for a moment, stuck in the limbo of the nightmare and reality, your eyes scanning. 

“It’s Levi...” He soothes, running his hand down your back in comfort. “You’re okay now.” 

His gentle voice guides you as you remember your dream, your sobs becoming more uncontrolled as the images you’d seen flash before your eyes. 

“Hey, shh...” He soothes, pulling you into a warm embrace. 

His lips kiss the top of your head and his eyes flicker up to the ceiling, hiding the angst he was feeling from seeing the person he loves so distressed when they should be feeling so safe - in his arms. 

“It’s okay.” He repeats, rocking you gently. “Hey. You can tell me all about it.” 

You nod as you palm away your tears, Levi leaning and flicking on the bedside light, the shadows and malicious demon realm cowering away from the warm glow.. 

 He listens. He listens every single time. He’ll hold you close, Levi Ackerman’s heartbeat soothing you to a monotonous rhythm as he circles his thumb around your arm, always always making you feel warm, safe and loved. 

 It’s a side of Levi not many people get to see. But my god, does it exist. And it’s fucking beautiful. 

[cherrywoes]

inferno.

𝘼𝘾𝙏 𝙊𝙉𝙀:

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗢𝗡𝗘. 𝘈𝘚𝘊𝘐𝘈𝘕.

— a person who has no shadow.

HELL IS THE personification of human sin. Despite the various myths and unknown facts that humans exchange between each other, each faction with different or slightly changed beliefs, the truth was this: hell has no ruler, nor was it ever meant to be something to rule over. A creation of God, it was meant to punish those who followed Lucifer in his rebellion and keep the Morningstar himself imprisoned before the return of Jesus upon the Earth. Until then, the souls of mortals would linger in limbo, never in peace, but waiting for a judgement that was uncertain.

The Nameless One had no issue with leaving Lucifer to his punishment—it was his punishment, after all, one he had no part in. At least, not by any stone cold allegiance to an angel who was no less interesting than any other who had fallen into the layers of Hell for the side they had chosen. He had spent long enough in the freezing bowels of Cocytus, reliving memory after memory, pushing past feelings of envy, guilt, sadness, all of it manufactured to torture him until the next coming of Christ, where he would be released and smote down as quickly as he had been freed from his prison. He refused to sit and wallow in wrath and insufferable pride, like the once great Lucifer, and he grew weary of this repetitive cycle—the same punishments, the same hellish overseers who chained him to slabs of frigid marble and allowed frozen creatures of ice and snow to peck at his inhuman flesh until there was nothing left of him. He would renew himself, and he would be on to the next, a permanent, never ending cycle that he was determined to be rid of even if it cost him his life.

Whispers from demons who made contracts with humans reached his ears, like it did with every other ancient being locked in Cocytus. They paid them no mind, but the Nameless One listened, and listened closely, reaching for any scrap of information that might let him escape and earn his freedom once more. The demons, posing as their overseers in phases, would make deals with humans for anything—wealth, extended life, healing, wisdom—in exchange for their immortal souls. It was easy enough for them to sign them over willingly, for no demon had the power to rend souls from mortal coils as the long vanished Archangel, Azrael, did. The humans got what they wanted for a century or so and when it was time for them to pay, the demons would scoop up their souls as payment before they ever reached Edom, the Realm Between.

Over thousands of years, humanity changed. The Nameless One was not surprised when they quickly surpassed the need for making contracts with his admittedly disgusting overseers; many of them worshipped his Creator in one century and disregarded Him the next, fluctuating in rapid and interesting cycles of belief and disbelief and even going as far as to kill in His name—a sin that would earn them quite the nice place in Cocytus, if it was awful enough. The most recent event discovered a splitting, a chasm between belief and disbelief or outright hereticism.

By then, the Nameless One had grown tired of listening, tired of the aches and pains in his bones and flesh, tired of the endless amount of scars that formed on his body from divine weapons used against him. He did not recognize the immortal body given to him by God any longer. It was wrought with damage, with darkness that seeped into him over thousands of centuries of torture and anguish and pain, creating a place right alongside his angelic soul that threatened to snuff out the light of his divinity any time he wavered. The entirety of Cocytus was dyed gold from the blood of the angels who had fallen, creating a mimicry of a golden city draped with chains and occupied by demons far older than he was.

“An angel made his way out of the gate,” one of the demons overseeing his punishment told another, brandishing a cat o’ nine tails against the hard ice wall to test its strength. The knots and metal shards ripped away chunks and left ragged scratches in its wake, each individual tumbling past the Nameless One’s eyesight. “Left his angelic soul behind and climbed right out into the human world. Once he was gone, the Hounds couldn’t find him over the stench of humanity.”

“The man on high isn’t doing anything?”

The demon swung the cat o’ nine tails down across the angel’s shoulders and shoulder blades harshly. It cracked against skin and cartilage, ripping away flesh and muscle and sending blood scattering across the already gold stained walls. The Nameless One was numb to it, far too used to the pain to manage a scream, and felt another lash against the back of his legs, severing the ligament in his knee keeping him upright. He sunk to the ground and earned another lash to his head, chunks of hair and flesh leaving with every scrape of the knots and metal.

“No, ever since his incarnation died and returned he’s been absent from human life.” The demon shrugged. “No one knows why. Orders haven’t changed, though, so we’re going to be here until the second coming.”

Demons talked like humans, oddly enough, after spending enough time in the mortal world. It had started after the rise in worshippers of Lucifer—which the Nameless One found the tiniest bit funny—and they had picked up slang and little fragments of human made language since then, to the point where the Nameless One had picked it up as well and understood when they spoke with contractions and odd metaphors like ‘a cat has nine lives’. A cat did not have nine lives, but he figured the sentiment was more widely used by mortals rather than demons.

But he had his way out now—all that was left to do was separate his angelic soul from… whatever the darkness was that clung to it like a lifeline. He wasn’t sure what it was—it did not feel like anything he had ever felt before in his thousands of years being alive. Not even Lucifer felt as he did, as if there was a second entity slumbering away inside him waiting to reach up and strangle his immortal soul down into the abyss it had come from. He had no name for it, no clue as to when it had begun to fester, to rise like an insidious boil that refused to go away; but it remained, and grew every day, faster, until it was the size of his soul and growing, turning the color of oil against water.

Pain became an annoyance as the angel worked tirelessly to undo every miniscule stitch that kept his angelic soul tied to the darkness within him. The punishments, once agonizing and overpowering each time he went through them, were nothing more than nuisances. Even Lucifer, whispering to him when they changed punishments, was an irritant he couldn’t get rid of, lingering in his head even when he was gone and distracting him from his freedom.

Stories reached him of others escaping in the same way he wished to: their souls lingering behind as their physical body rose to the mortal world and climbed through the portal, never to be seen again. The silvery silhouettes of their angelic souls were immune to torture, to time, to pain; there was nothing the demons could do to them unless they had their physical bodies to bind them.

Lucifer spoke to him, before he’d tore his angelic soul from his body, while the demons were busy chasing down another angel before he could escape to the portal. “You are perhaps the only one of the original legion who still remains with me. I thank you for that, Nameless One.”

“Don’t thank me just yet.” The angel lifted his limp wing from the ground, tattered and ruined past flight; stray feathers drifted to the ground, each one darker than the last, until the final one was as black as pitch. “You might despise me one day.”

“I don’t see how that will be possible.” Lucifer sounded amused; tired, but amused. Hell got to him slowly but surely, and in pieces—where the Nameless One remained indifferent to his punishments, Lucifer allowed them to get to him, made him doubt, made him wonder. He was no longer as brilliant or commanding as he used to be; he was weak, cowed, sufficiently imprisoned in Hell. He would never escape, not as long as he thought he deserved the punishment for what he had done. “You may be my only friend left here.”

The demons returned before the Nameless One could admit to what he was about to do. It was for the best, perhaps; because when he finally tore his soul from his body, he felt the darkness stir. The demons were ready for him, as if they had known what he was about to do.

“Don’t let him escape!” One shouted, a shadowy figure dwarfed by the others who were bigger, physical, and dangerous. They were blurs as he shoved past them and clambered over them one by one, desperate to reach the golden glowing light of the portal just behind them. “If he escapes, we’re all doomed!”

The Nameless One didn’t know about that. He fought his way through the crowd, until all that was left was a slowly healing group of demons, keening in high pitched voices as their heads slowly found their way back to their severed necks. Demon blood, black and viscous, like tar, dripped off of his body and smelled harshly of brimstone, but he couldn't bring himself to care as he once would.

In a moment of weakness, or concern, that was as brief as a brush of wind, he turned to look back at the depths of Cocytus once more. There, standing chained to a frozen throne he would never own, stood Lucifer, anger and fury burning in his eyes where there once held friendliness, affection. His entire person radiated betrayal, his wings high and bristled, but the Nameless One didn’t care like he thought he would have when he imagined betraying the great Morningstar.

No, no—he felt a sense of relief, instead.

Casting a quick glance to the demons at his feet, the angel turned and walked into the portal without a second thought, fresh, clean air entering his lungs the same time a dark, evil voice spoke within his mind, a thousand voices merged into one, stopping him dead in his tracks in a field of blush red poppies, baby’s breath, and calla lilies.

Freedom… At last.

prologue | masterlist | two

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taglist: open. lmk if you want to be added.

[chimericarchitect]

The Science of Dreams

Saness 

Another night has come and gone. All the peanut butter jars have been returned to their shelves. Tolight, Saness has told Ringleader of her dreams, and of her fears. He has offered to use his voodoos to inspect her mind once she's fallen asleep. After a pumpfelt conversation and a shared bath, the time for such may finally be approaching. It was tricky to coax her into unconsciousness, not for fear of what may come, but because she can't quite will herself to take her loving eyes off of him. 

Eventually though. Eventually she manages to drift off, seemingly falling into an easy slumber, face soft and clear of paint and troubles.

Ringleader 

He doesn't have to take his loving eyes off her and he assures her he ain't goin nowhere. He is paintless as well, and hopelessly in love, and he threatens to knock her out just to see if she takes him seriously. (She probably doesn't.) 

Once she's fully sleeped, his eyes will light up, and he'll sink into her head.

Saness 

(She doesn't.) 

From behind closed eyelids lime does glow purple with his power as Ringleader attempts to join the intangible whisper of Saness's sleeping mind, only for him to succumb without warning to a sensation unfamiliar, a great mental slide moving his awareness physically away from his own body, and hers. 

Except... not from hers? His awareness schlocks to a halt inside of Saness's, and the dreaming girl pauses her action, gaze taking on that same purple glow. He can feel her mind process the looming nature of his presence within her. 

"You're here..." 

To his externalized senses, Saness is OBVIOUSLY in a physical body, in a physical place. Though Ringleader retains his psychic attachment to his own body, his ability to return to himself intact, the physical distance is incomprehensible. Within his awareness of her mind, however, he can feel the translucent haze of slumber, faintly dulling Saness's senses. She's Somewhere Else... but she's not awake.

Ringleader

... Yikes.

Uh? Yikes?

He fumbles vaguely for his dex where he thinks his horn wands might be-- 

Hmm. Apparently he can't control his own body from this distance. Deeply disconcerting! Alright, fine, this is fine, everything is fine and alright and what the fuck where is he-she-they? 

He pushes love at her mind, encouraging her dreamself to consider the surroundings. They may as well get some information, cuz this is gonna Suck in a bit.

Saness 

Saness falls as readily as ever to the press of his familiar will, though she is notably far easier to command in this state, even given the threat of distance-related strain. The feeling of Love makes her smile, a bubble of easy fuzziness that fits so naturally with Ringleader's urging. 

She rises in a swish of comfortable fabric, the sensation of it on her legs having very little to do with weight as she abandons the lounge and closes the uncomfortably short distance between her bed and the wall of her enclosure. 

It's hard, incredibly solid beneath her lavender-washed skin, but it doesn't feel like much of anything. It bears no resemblance to glass nor steel. The color fluxes through opaque and transparent purple, giving only brief snatches of their shared surroundings.

Ringleader 

Hm... He'll have her trace the edge of her surroundings, with her foot and with her hand to see if it's straight or curved. This is... Not what he expected to find, in the realm of her dreams. Aren't there supposed to be castles or something?

Saness 

Ringleader-as-Saness scuffs her lime-slippered foot along the base of the ground, hand trailing over the slowly surging color, no temperature and no texture to speak of. 

It's curved, a nearly perfect dome all around, with a darker seam where it connects with the floor. It's impossible to tell if that's just the color of the floor interacting with it, and whether or not the barrier passes all the way through in a sphere.

Ringleader 

... This is... Deeply disconcerting. He thinks he is tired of bits of her being trapped where they don't need to be. 

He tries to coax her into using her psi to pokey at the wall.

Saness 

He'll find rather swiftly that Saness has no psychic ability, for some reason or another. She operates on muscle memory in her attempt to use her psi, but nothing comes of it. Her own mind flexes uncertainly as she fails to perform the task set out before her, nerves fluttering in her chest. It doesn’t feel the same as wearing a suppressor, it’s like she’s... psych-null, or something.

"That doesn't seem right... So is this a dream, or...?" 

His control over her falters for a moment as a ruffled Saness moves to lean her forehead on the barrier, squinting fuzzily into the beyond. It's the same view as before, dizzying slopes and tiles bent all out of shape; though she notes to herself that she feels clearer than she did the night before.

Ringleader

He soothes at her without trying to overtake her, before his voice manifests in her mind. 

"Definitely a dream. But also definitely real."

Saness 

There he is. She was getting nervous, and the 'voice' to match his presence is immediately reassuring. Also, being a little freaked out helped with the clarity thing for sure, Saness is still growing more wakeful in this dream. 

She takes a slow breath and eases mentally toward his presence of her own accord, sleepily treating what little of him she can engage as a tether. 

"It's harder to feel you than usual... Than when I'm awake, maybe..."

Ringleader 

"It's harder for me to feel myself like this. Don't worry, though, I'm here to help you remember."

Saness 

"Not that there's much to see..." 

She rubs the edge of her fist along the energy-wall in a circle, as though cleaning glass. It does not disperse the color.

Ringleader

"No, there's not. Still. Once we've gotten all the info we can, I'll try to change your dream over."

Saness 

She perks up and nods a "hm!" to nothing, ready to gather... whatever else he thinks he might want.

Ringleader 

... Hm. He doesn't really know. Look at the lounge? Squint up at the sky, see if there's any weirdo buildings up there? ... Try to find some weirdo game sense?

Saness 

Saness really can't sense much of anything! It's a far cry from her usual ability.

The lounge is sturdy, and heavy. It doesn't match the floor underneath, seemingly brought here from somewhere else. In fact, it better matches Saness's bright golden dress. Up above, a ceiling curls away and around the room to somewhere else, viewable whenever the fog clears briefly enough to see out of the dome.

Ringleader 

... He might have the patience to sit and stare and observe if it were his own husk that were trapped and he weren't inside a little dream body, but...

He asks her to check her body last. Make sure it is hers.

Saness

It FEELS like hers, mechanically, but she can't really check for familiar scarring on her waist more than to press through the fabric of her dress, and that... doesn't reveal much. She feels along her neck, however, and THAT... is perfectly smooth, no sign of the damage she took from that collar when she was imprisoned. 

How thoroughly should she check? Is this enough?

Ringleader 

... Final check to make sure she bleeds?

Saness 

Saness obediently puts her claws to the back of her hand and starts to press, but...

... :( 

...Can he do it? 

She seems softer, in her dreams.

Ringleader 

Precious Lumina... He will have her close her eyes and then prick the back of her hand as quick as possible.

... Or at least. Try.

Saness 

Her dreamself jerks the smallest amount when her claws flex against her delicate skin, but no blood has welled forth when he opens her eyes to check. 

The pain was real though.

Ringleader 

... A moment of yearning, before he makes her take her pulse.

Saness 

Ladies and gentlemen, she has a pulse. I repeat, she has a pulse.

Ringleader 

... C...check for finger prints...

This is way more steps than if she had just bled. But maybe this is a robot, he doesn't know.

Saness 

The pads of her fingers are equipped with fanciful fleshy swirls - as is the standard - and what's more, when she presses on her skin it leaves an ordinary and very temporary mark.

Ringleader 

"You are so smart~"

Saness 

She shuffles her slippered feet bashfully, soft soft soft. 

"Will that do?" 

Is it time to see if he can change the dream? She's eager to be rid of this cage.

Ringleader 

"I think that'll do, sweetest beloathed." 

And he will try to shift her dream.

Saness 

He can, as any other time he has Saness under the power of his voodoo, control her perception of her environment. 

Unfortunately, as Ringleader is riding solely on Saness's awareness of the area, it's not immediately evident that nothing has ACTUALLY changed. To all appearances, whatever he makes becomes her reality. It only becomes clear that Ringleader has no effect on the environment when Saness steps forward blindly into the illusion, only to conk into the barrier that remains physically intact. Ouch!

Ringleader 

!!!!!

!!!!!!!!!

He stops directing the dream.

Saness 

The illusion vanishes, and all that remains is the lounge, the dome, and a limeblood rubbing her unpainted face.

Ringleader 

... :o(

"I could try to... Stop you from dreamin?"

Saness 

"...Yeah, okay." 

Saness ambles over to her lounge and stretches out flat on it, looking up to the top of her tiny cage, hands folded daintily over her stomach. 

"But, just try it."

Ringleader 

He tries to pull her away from dreaming at all. Not simply dreaming of nothing, but Not Dreaming.

Saness 

It is akin to forcing someone into unconsciousness, a thing he has to hold down and pin in place. The Saness in the dream passes out, dragging her consciousness into some sloppy rodeo limbo, like it doesn't know where to go. If his reflexes aren't quick or if his psychic strength fails him, Ringleader may be ejected from Saness's mind as though flung from the curve of whiplash, slammed an unknown concept of distance back into his own body.

Ringleader 

He's never had to have reflexes with a willing person, and his psychic strength was running low by the time they got to this point. 

For at least 30 seconds straight, he's out himself.

Saness 

The Saness in the dream flutters back to awareness, slowly, and sits up, confused and alone. 

"Ringleader?" 

Curled up peacefully with the now-unconscious Ringleader of the waking world, Saness's original body dozes on, oblivious.

Ringleader

When he returns to consciousness, his first priority is swearing like a motherfucker.

His second is slipping tentatively into her head to see if she's unconscious.

Saness 

Touching her mind, just skimming the surface as he does when passively scanning for life, will inform Ringleader that the Saness that lays with him has brain activity that is uniquely distant from the surface, like an echo of a dream. 

Actually slipping in to any depth brings him immediately back down that slip-n-slide, all the way to Saness's dreamself with nothing to hold onto along the way. Her eyes turn purple again, and Saness pauses to sigh. He can feel that she was frightened.

Ringleader 

She can feel that he's worried. 

"Ow."

Saness 

She puts her hand on her cheek to reflexively attempt to touch at Ringleader, who is nothing more than a voice inside her head and the feeling of a shadow hovering over her shoulder. Her brow furrows in concern, a pout on her lips. 

"Are you okay...?"

Ringleader 

He loves her for a moment. 

“You threw me out like a fuckin trebuchet."

Saness 

"What? I didn't mean to, I mean, I wouldn't..." 

She curls her toes and gives them a tippy-tap on the floor, thinking, anxious. Her mood is more mutable while sleeping. 

"...Don't do that again, then..."

Ringleader 

.... :o(

"I'm okay. It just was sudden, and my pan is spinnin from the distance... I think I might have to wake you to break you out. Maybe I could keep you out out after, but I think I'd have to keep at it the whole light."

Saness 

"That won't do." 

Her thoughts are poking at his presence with things like 'is he hurt,' 'spinning, spinning-' 'I woke up and you were gone :<' and other similar bubbles of pitiable sadness and loving concern, broken into unspoken chunks of thought. 

"Nothing happens in here. I'll be okay."

Ringleader 

"But can you be alone?"

Saness 

"...I wish there was something to do," she says so sadly.

Ringleader

... Check for dex?

Saness 

Nada.

Ringleader 

:o(

"... I could try to stick with you long enough for a half decent rest...?"

Saness

"You're not tired?" 

She can't help but be obvious when he's inside her mind; dream Saness so blatantly perks up at the thought of being anything but alone.

Ringleader 

"Not so much. Might need to take a break to tend to a bitta a headache, but."

Saness 

"A headache," she whines, sitting down and swinging her weightless legs loosely off the side of the lounge, swish swish swish.

Ringleader 

"Ain't the end of the world. I'd rather deal with that than you alone."

Saness 

She tips her head sideways to squish her cheek into her shoulder, with the intent of expressing 'snuggle my spade' in a movement to no one. She’s trusting, and easy to convince.

"Okay Ringleader. Thank you."

Ringleader 

Her hand rises to press to her lips in a soft little kiss.

"I'll be right back, okay?”

Saness 

She nods, and kisses her own fingers like a dweeb. 

"'Kay."

Ringleader 

He departs from her as gently as he can manage, for his own sake, and then comes back as soon as possible, medicined and holding his wands. Time will be spent entertaining her in whatever way he can without actually being there. And then when the evening comes and she wakes up, he will go the hell to sleep for himself. Not for long, but for long enough to recover.

Saness 

While awake in his stead, Saness will keep watch over her tired spade and contemplate what they learned together in the dream. It feels real, and it feels fake, both at once. 

She checks to make sure her empathy works by keeping Ringleader comfortable and at peace, warding away the fitful demons of his sleep as they come for him.

And so the beginning of her night passes in quiet note taking, gentle frowning, and tender motions.

[idv-fifis-toybox]

Some Other Essence/Package ideas;

I haven’t forgotten the Found essence i’ve just recovered from 5 days of sawdust throat and thought the best way to celebrate is suffer /lh

but these ideas are. probably weeks if not months old and hey doesn’t hurt to yeet em out yk (this isn’t even all of them, soots face)

Feel free to offer your characters! As there are. A shit ton of skins, repeats are allowed ACROSS packages (ie you can suggest one character for Waterfire II, and the same character for The Purgatory) and the limit of characters per blog will be 7 at the moment

Waterfire II: Operation Dagger

S-Tier: Soixante Quinze ( The Voidwalker, Rue )

The main bad guy of the essence! a mafia boss that’s the target of the mission

A-Tier: Mimosa (Miss Secretary, @one0p1nk )

The sibling of Bellini, a secretary for Soixante and handles a money laundering business

A-Tier: Jack Rose (The Executioner, Exe)

An assassin working with Soixante, hired to clean up any messes left behind

B-Tier: Gimlet (The Hitman, Zane Bracken)

One of Soixante’s underlings, a sniper

B-Tier: Bellini (Monday, @one0p1nk )

One of Soixante’s underlings, who only got in due to their sibling’s connections. Said sibling is no longer alive, but the other elder sibling took their place.

B-Tier: Pink Lady ( Bellora, @one0p1nk )

This character is canonically a female

A femme fatale kind of customer of Soixante Quinze, although she isn’t directly involved with his dealings, at least, not yet.

B-Tier: Delilah

This Character is canonically a female

Pink Lady’s younger sister, overshadowed by the former’s notoriety in the underworld even if she tries to make an honest living

B-Tier: Adonis

A mole for Bloody Mary within the underground

S-Tier: Bloody Mary ( The Vedette, Vanadis )

The main good guy of the essence, she is essentially Aqua Vita’s ( from the first Waterfire essence ) boss

A-Tier: Amber Moon

Bloody Mary’s trusted assistant, who is less well known among the general public, but is feared in the underworld

A-Tier: Vesper (Lovino, @one0p1nk )

An old friend of Soixante who quit the mafia, but was blackmailed into helping Bloody Mary

Waterfire III: Troupe Disaster

S-Tier: Pamina

This character is canonically a female

The main star of the show and the essence! An opera singer who plays the female lead

A-Tier: Agent Heart

One of the assassins of Deep Red, known for their with communicating with people

A-Tier: Agent Spades

This character is canonically a male

One of the assassins of Deep Red, known for his skill with weaponry, both retrofitting and using them

B-Tier: Trial of Fire ( The Knife Thrower, Flynn Smith )

An actor of the play who puts the lovers through the trial of fire

B-Tier: Trial of Water (The Puppeteer, Rosalyn Darling)

An actor of the play who puts the lovers through the trial of water

B-Tier: Trial of Silence (Orfeo)

An actor of the play who puts the lovers through the trial of silence

B-Tier: Spotlight ( The Lampsmith, Wayne Strickland )

The one in charge of the lighting control for the play

B-Tier: Prop Master ( Preston, @one0p1nk )

The one in charge of the props for the play

S-Tier: Tamino 

This character is canonically a male

The male lead of the play! An opera singer who plays Pamina’s intended lover

S-Tier: Saraste (The Tailor, Angel Drew)

The manager of the theatre

A-Tier: Agent Clubs ( The Veteran, Lyra Blake )

This character is canonically a female

One of the assassins of Deep Red, known for her brute strength and being a former commander in the army

A-Tier: Agent Diamond ( Leroy, @one0p1nk )

The leader of Deep Red, known for no particular skill, but they are the most dangerous of the four

The Slumbering Realm

S-Tier: Ukiyo (The Samurai, Shiori Aikin )

This character is canonically a female

She is the god of this realm! Her role is to oversee the smooth passage of the dead into their afterlife

A-Tier: Directions (The Cameraman, Akihiko Sato)

The person who runs the Customer Service counter, they don’t enjoy their job much, to say the least

A-Tier: Tickets (The Gardening Fool, Basil Vines)

The ticket master, who enjoys their job unlike Directions, though they’re best buds

B-Tier: Busy Passenger (The Activist, Peterson “August” Drew)

One of the many passengers in the realm, who can be heard frantically chanting that they’re oreoccupied

B-Tier: Lost Passenger (The Scion, Ian Varon)

One of the many passengers in the realm, who keeps ending up in the wrong platform

B-Tier: Tired Passenger

One of the many passengers in the realm, one who simply wants to get on the train soon

B-Tier: Regretful Passenger ( The Glass Artist, Delilah Fowler )

One of the many passengers in the realm, who can be heard mourning their short-lived life

B-Tier: Silent Passenger

One of the many passengers in the realm, they don’t talk much, unless absolutely necessary

S-Tier: Wanderlust

The protagonist of the essence, who seems to have a bit of trouble with clearance

A-Tier: Stationmaster (Gwendolyn, @one0p1nk )

The person overall in charge of the train station when Ukiyo isn’t available

A-Tier: Train Conductor ( The Showman, Phineas Smith )

The one who steers the trains in the realm, there’s multiple, but they are the most pertinent for the story

The Purgatory

Note: this is about another afterlife, the Seven Evokers (based on the seven deadly sins) are the Seven ‘Kings’/‘Queens’ of the realm, second to the god of the realm who is not within the packages. The two A-tiers are the direct servants of their Evokers

S-Tier: Gula (The Falcon Tamer, Yvette)

This character is canonically a female

The Evoker of Gluttony, Beelzebulb, who is actually rather easy-going compared to the rest, just like Belphegor

Their realm appears to be the interior of a large castle, the highlight being an extremely long banquet table. Her ‘palace’ appears to be more of a room, inaccessible to most.

A-Tier: Devourer

A-Tier: Insatiable  (The Baker, Beth Anastazja )

S-Tier: Acedia 

The Evoker of Sloth, Belphegor, who rules over easily the most relaxing region.

Their realm appears to be a misty area with a floor of soft clouds, with residents having a disconnected room of their own, the voice of their ruler heard through an unseen radio, and their palace appearing like a radio tower.

A-Tier: Lullaby (The Upside Down Artist, Amy Kazuichi)

A-Tier: Void

S-Tier: Invidia

The Evoker of Envy, Leviathan, who enjoys the performing arts immensely.

Their realm appears to be a large theatre, leaving it takes you away from the realm. Their palace has yet to be located even by the most expert of trackers.

A-Tier: Hollow Praise (The Radio Host, Laurence Godfrey)

A-Tier: Double-edged (The Cultivator, Eiji Narukami)

S-Tier: Ira

The Evoker of Wrath, Satanas, who rules with an iron fist. Their realm appears to be a giant colosseum, with extremely tall towers at the edge of the arena, leaving the arena means leaving the realm. Their palace appears like a giant watchtower.

A-Tier: Bloodlust (The Nurse, “Lazarus”)

A-Tier: Blackened Knight (The Vet, Luke Watson )

S-Tier: Luxuria ( The Radio Hostess, Adeline Deniere )

The Evoker of Lust, Asmodeus, a playful character who taunts others teasingly and enjoys incognito mingling with the masses. Her realm appears to be a bathhouse, surrounded by a beautiful garden. Her tower appears to be the connected ‘hotel’.

A-Tier: Desire ( The Living Mannequin, Miss Manni )

A-Tier: Lady Rose ( The Huntress, Ellie )

S-Tier: Avarita ( The Scholar, Romero Gray )

The Evoker of Greed, Mammon, a spiteful ruler who rarely shows their face to others. His realm appears like a modern city, with his ‘palace’ being an office tower

A-Tier: Hollow Voice

A-Tier: Midas

S-Tier: Superbia

The Evoker of Pride, Lucifer, the most prominent and dangerous of the seven. His realm is… something straight out of medieval times, however, something is highly unsettling about the town…

A-Tier: Silenced Vows

A-Tier: Muted Cries

[in-somnis-verita]

━  BURNING BRIDGES

he truly doesn't remember, does he? ah, the million dollar question ... it did cross her fleeting mind, in the dead of the night, as navy hues observed the unfolding scene from afar. And if the ponderation itself HURT, then the answer, that promptly came, was DESPAIRING: he did not , for a fact.

and oh, she knew so, but that didn't ease the weight on her chest, nor the way her heart clenched everytime she saw him; the ghost of the man he once had been. Mana was no longer, or at least, not in the way she remembered him as. And now, what else could she do but wait? for days, weeks, months and years, all that the ninth, the SHEEP THAT WIELDED THE DREAMS OF NOAH, could do, was wait for the inevitable to happen: for him to remember who he was and what was his purpose.

              the gene always awakened, eventually. And they always remembered.                       NOAH DOESN'T SLEEP FOR TOO LONG WITHIN HIS HOSTS.

the MILLENIUM EARL. the one who would bring this world to its demise, the one who's done it once and who'll do it again, inescapably. The one who devoured his own other half. ❝  Don't stop, keep walking, ❞  he had said, before his life was stolen from him. And he didn't stop, but he also didn't recall his past; because the blood that stained his hands was so unbearable (and so desired, at the same wicked time) that he forced himself to forget what he had done. Destroyed the face of ❝ Mana ❞ and replaced it. Destroyed the memories. REPRESSED THE GENE.

ah, the courage it must've taken him to go as far as erasing his own identity impressed her greatly, and she couldn't say she blamed him, really ━ how could she? ━ for the weight of his brother's death in his shoulders was far too heavy in comparison to the mental torture the pierrot, who lived in a faux state of peace, put himself through all over again.

              if only she could ease his nightmares or the unsettling sensation that something important was lacking or the shadows that seemed to watch over him at night, creeping, lurking, waiting FOR A CHANCE TO STRIKE ... if she could ease all that, she would.

                       BUT SHE COULD NOT. NOT UNTIL HE REMEMBERED. until then, there was nothing she could do. It'd be useless, anyway; nothing but a waste of energy. All she could do was checking on him every once in a while to see if there was any evolution on his awakening. And that was precisely what had brought her, at such ungodly hour in the night, to the outskirts of the campsite of the GARVEY CIRCUS TROUPE.

what had motivated Mana to join a circus as a pierrot, she did not know: but it'd be a lie to say that it wasn't ironic. A sad, lunatic clown that ingenuously lives in his own reality; as though in a limbo between what's real and what's not quite. It'd also be a blatant lie to say that it didn't take her a great ammount of time to discover his whereabouts after he vanished without a trace, and not only because of how his features had drastically changed, but the BOND between hosts ran far too deep in their veins.

another thought that left a bitter taste in her mouth and caused a frown to form itself upon delicate features and a shiver to trickle down her spine: that had been why Nea couldn't hide for long, after all. and sometimes, the ninth apostle couldn't help but wonder ( for her heart did not only ache for one, but for BOTH ) if he had fulfilled his promise of returning. She liked to believe he did, or that he would, but there wasn't a trace of the fourteenth anywhere.                      nor in her DREAM, nor in the physical realm. life is made of uncertainty, though, is it not? And thus, no matter how the perspective of being reunited with Nea once again caused a torrent of feelings to wash over her, Road Kamelot didn't waste too much time dwelling on that idea. The world, to her knowing eyes, was nothing but an endless chain of action and reaction; where free will and fate constantly clashed and waltzed together, trying to escape and contradict each other in an endless loop that she had seen far too many times. and far too many times had she been awfully amused by the choices humans made and by the mistakes they kept falling into. Just like she was on that moment, heeled shoes clacking softly against a ground that had been cleaned from the snow that covered it a few hours before, as she made her slow way towards the tall and mighty circus tent. one thing was for sure; he hadn't lost the kindness that had always been part of him, not yet, at least. Sometimes he was alone, with a dog that went by ❝ allen ❞; other times, gradually more often than not, he was accompanied by a kid that had, most likely, been bought by the ringmaster. Red was the name she had heard others calling him, out of spite and out of sheer rage, and while she knew how to recognize INNOCENCE when she saw it, this one didn't seem to want anything to do with its bearer. which was, as far as she had been concerned, good and bad ━  it couldn't hurt Mana, on the one hand, but on the other, it also confirmed that she'd still have a long time to wait until she could bring him back. Mana didn't seem to be bothered by it, either; for there wasn't any sort of adverse reaction to the present of such a thing so close. And this despite the beaten up child's protests against his attempts of affection ( did he know anything else other than ire and hatred tossed his way? ) and how particularly fond he seemed to be growing of him.                                               he seemed genuinely happy with the kid's company.                AND SHE WOULDN'T BE THE ONE STEALING THAT JOY FROM HIM. not when life would do that, sooner than later, she thought to herself, as she halted her march and adjusted the thick cloak closer around her petite bodice. seen from up close, it was impressive how HUGE the circus actually was: beyond the main pavillion, the one where the shows were presented and repeated to death almost every night, a quick look around put into evidence the three smaller tents that surrounded it, as well as the lion's cages. Other than her lonely steps, there was barely any other sound in the air; apart from the ocasional snore from inside any of the make-do cots or the cutting, bone chilling wind that whistled by and recklessly agitated trees and fabric with its passage. she was alone, then. The one she sought wasn't in sight, so she could only assume he'd be sleeping ( or trying to ) inside one of those tents with his precious, loyal companion. This had been the first time she had been so close to him, since thirty five years ago, hadn't it? Despite being on her own, and despite how he ignored her existence ( AS HE SHOULD ), being there, running a dainty appendage through the shelter, brought a sense of peace to her errant heart.                                                                                    HE WAS STILL FAMILY. regardless of how she'd like to ( mayhaps ) stay for longer, she had already seen what she needed to and put her mind to a rest. So she figured she should be on her way back; it had already been a risk to get so close ( what if he was risen from his slumber by her presence? what if she triggered his memory earlier than what it was supposed to? ) but curiosity never killed this cat before. who could have guessed that it'd be this one time? as a sigh escaped past pale chasms, Road's hand slowly slipped down the dusty fabric and she gracefully spun on her heels. And as she did, she realised that she WASN'T on her own, after all. Although a glimpse of surprise might have been noticed upon her visage and posture, which tensed up momentarily, such a look was immediately replaced by a rather soft, almost gentle, simper across her lips. what a child was doing up at that hour, she didn't know, but she wasn't asking either. A few feet away from her, staring at her with an emotion she couldn't quite grasp ( was it fear? confusion? curiosity? ), stood Red, silent. It would have been easier to simply vanish without a word; it would have been easier to write it off in the youngster's mind as their little secret, and yet, maybe because of HOW this child had been treated his entire life, maybe because he seemed so upset by her presence, Road decided to instead approach him. and when she was close enough to crouch in front of him, she held out to him a colorful lollipop. It was all she had on her, at the moment, so a sugary treat would have to suffice to at least ease him.   ━ ❝ here, ❞ she said, dulcet tones soft and barely louder than a whisper. ━ ❝ do you like candy? ❞

[randomw07]

Day 5 - Halloween

Written for day 5 of @aph-romnor-week

Warnings: talk of death, apathy

Word count: 1187

This came out more platonic than romantic, but oh well. 

Nyo!Norway: Signe

Nyo!Romania: Mihaela

Some things in life are unexpected. Death, for example. Oh, most people have thought of dying at least once in their life, many have asked themselves just what will happen when they finally leave this earth, but the actual moment usually comes as a surprise. Well, Signe's death certainly does. One moment, she's rolling her eyes at her friends' childish antics, the next, she finds herself on a busy platform, severed from her corporal form.

She isn't sure what she's waiting for. People come and go, pay her little mind as they run to catch their train before it leaves. There's a definite fear here, it prickles her skin. What happens if you miss your train? Will there be another one you can catch or was that your only chance to escape from this limbo? Most people have a ticket; her pockets are empty. There's nowhere she can buy one from, no one to advise her on what to do.

She spends her days wandering aimlessly around the station, frequently glancing at the ever-changing electronic board in the vain hope she'll recognise a destination, envious of the passers-by who know exactly where they're bound. She doesn't need to eat, drink, or sleep. She's trapped in a constant state of apathy, with no knowledge of how she died.

Signe waits for months before finally deciding she's had enough. Gathering her courage, she picks a platform at random and follows the train tracks in the direction of the setting sun. No one tries to stop her. No train hurtles towards her. It's eerily quiet as she walks along the rusted tracks, until she finally reaches the graveyard where her body slumbers.

She settles herself down before her grave, its chill seeping into her bones. Here she will wait until the apathy fades away.

Five years she waits. Five years in one spot with little to distract her from the monotony of an empty graveyard. Her apathy has done nothing but grow over the years, bitterness poisoning any joy she might be inclined to feel.

The world's forgotten her existence. Mette, Astrid and Helmi no longer live in this small town. They have their own lives now, new friends and exciting opportunities that leave no room for Signe anymore. Mette tries to visit at first, but even she has to move on eventually, and bids her a final farewell before walking away, never to return.

Signe hasn't seen her sister once. How is she coping? Is she taking care of herself? Signe wishes she could watch over her, but she can no longer bring herself to move. She can only hope their parents are there for her, even though they no longer care to put flowers on their eldest daughter's grave.

She plucks a weed pushing out of the dusty path and places it on the smooth tombstone at her feet. A dash of green against the monotonous grey. There. Isn't that nice? Tears gather in the corners of her eyes, but she furiously wipes them away. Surely it's time to see in colour again? She can't possibly live in this monochrome world forever, can she?

She sighs. Death is such a lonely thing. She never thought solitude would bother her. She who has always appreciated being left to mull over her own thoughts and daydream about worlds beyond the realms of possibility, who would have thought she'd grow to loathe being alone?

The graveyard is surprisingly busy this evening. Transparent shapes pass through trees and stone, while a low humming fills the air with the deceased's whispers. Tonight is Halloween, the one time of the year they aren't chained to their place of rest. The one day they can find some form of amusement in their monotonous routine.

Signe doesn't want to go anywhere. Scaring the living bores her. She envies them, with their beating hearts and warm skin. She's jealous of their proximity to each other, the way they hug one another and hold hands, how they laugh and tease each other. She used to be like that, once. She used to go trick-or-treating with her friends too. And then she died.

Perhaps, she thinks, if she sits here long enough, she'll fade into nothingness. Maybe she'll go mad. Either option would be a welcome change to her current state of existence.

Gravel crunches under someone's feet, growing louder and louder, until it stops. Signe freezes. There's a stranger behind her. Who could it be? A bored teenager looking to trample all over her grave? A well-meaning elderly woman coming to remove the weed she deems ugly? Someone she knows?

Hope flares in her chest, an inferno so powerful her form flickers in the dim light. She shouldn't hope, but she's lonely. It's difficult not to grasp for a rope when you've been trapped down a well for so long.

"Hey! Mind if I join you?"

And just like that, her solitary vigil is broken.

The stranger's name is Mihaela. Only in her early twenties, she glows with life, radiates vitality with every inch of her being. She wears a crooked smile and a crimson coat covered in bulging pockets she fills with odds and bobs. Despite being able to communicate with the dearly departed since she was four, she's a friendly little thing, cherished by her loved ones. Every word she speaks is fueled by empathy. She's an absolute angel.

Mihaela asks her question after question. What's her favourite colour? What's the funniest thing that happened to her during her school years? Does she like cats? Meaningless conversation, the kind two people destined to become friends create as they get to know one another.

Signe can almost believe she's alive again. A warmth blossoms in her chest, radiates outwards, from her head to her toes. She's been quiet for so long her words escape in quick succession, pausing only when she runs out of things to say. How strange it is, to talk so much, when she barely spoke in life! How much more will death change her?

"Signe," Mihaela asks her suddenly, "why aren't you getting ready to haunt the town?"

Signe shrugs.

"Why would I? There's no point to it, is there?"

Mihaela frowns, confusion dancing in her eyes.

"Of course there's a point to it! It's fun!"

She springs to her feet, dusting herself off before holding a hand out to the ghost.

"Come with me, and I'll show you what you're missing."

The ghost feels oddly light, a feather about to carried away by the wind at the slightest breeze. Hesitantly, she nods and reaches out to grasp Mihaela's hand. His fingers pass through the flesh, but for once, it doesn't matter. Mihaela's talking to her, trying to reach out to her, is treating her as though she hasn't been dead for five years.

It's a small thing, really. Nothing worth getting emotional over. Maybe the woman feels sorry for her, or perhaps she actually does care. But for the first time in five years, Signe has the impression of being someone again.

For the first time in five years, she feels happy.

[maximus-bruin]

they call us dreamers  but we’re the ones that don’t sleep.

The thing about being alone was that it wasn’t as painful as people made it out to be. He didn’t realize how familiar he was with the feeling until he stepped away from everyone else around him. Valentine’s Day was a lot of things. It was new, it was eye-opening, it was even satisfying for him. But it was also honest to him, perhaps even brutally so. There was a twisted knot in his mind that left him flinching away from the mention of the son of Athena, the son of Asclepius, and many other sons. And so when the son of Hypnos had the chance, he slipped away into his cabin, locking the door from any outside visitors. It had been a while since he had spent some time here; Maximus was so used to feeling the comfort of another around him, giving him warmth and comfort and him providing it in turn. But this time, he had to provide his own warmth. Darkness clung to him like a heavy cloak, and silence hovered over his head, laced and woven between his curls. 

When he had prepared his bathtub, he had hoped to connect with his father more. As someone who had been relatively absent from his life, both before and after he became a demigod, Maximus was left asking for more. No visions, no divine signs or even hints of where he might be. Even who he may be. Prayers were the next best thing he could think of, despite the terror-filled feeling of his last prayer that left him unconscious and prone across the temple’s cold floors. But nothing had changed for him, only darkness and pulsing, purple light left him knocked out in the tub. Maximus wasn’t even sure how long he had been in there until he was jolted awake by the cold water filling his nostrils once he had sunk down. The son of Hypnos shot up coughing, hacking and spitting out the freezing water from his airways. He was lucky that he didn’t drown, at least. 

But it only left him with more questions, more uncertainties in his heart. Maximus was left with nothing, just as uncertain and unclear about his position here. Perhaps the thing he feared the most, the feeling inside his heart that he couldn’t shake was this strange feeling of panic inside his chest. As far as he knew, he didn’t believe he had bad blood with any of the other demigods. But he didn’t know who he could rely on either. He wasn’t the newest demigod anymore, nor was he one of the originals. If he was lost, if he was taken away, or his life was placed in mortal danger, could he say that they would look for him? That they would notice his absence? And he was unable to pinpoint one name that would rush to his aid. It did nothing to ease his heart, the dull, ache resuming its place into the depths of his heart. It nestled itself inside like a rotten core, threatening to eat its way out of his chest. And he believed himself to be just as unimportant as the day he had first arrived. 

His bed was laced with lavender and poppy petals, the soft scent of vanilla wafting from a candle by his bedside. Every morning was the same, waking up in his white sheets as the sunlight traced his cheeks. Every time he turned, the son of Hypnos pulled his limbs closer to his chest, curling up closer to preserve the heat radiating from his body. Dark eyes remained dazed, tracing the corners and edges of his room. He wasn’t sure how long he had stared at the dreamcatcher above his bed, etching in the lines into memory. Time passed like water over his skin, washing away his memories. He lay in limbo, floating between the bridge between the reality and his fantasies. 

If all he could do was traverse dreams, then the best he could do was find some answers for himself. Because who could help him in his dreams? He was the one to break their nightmares, tame the beasts that ravaged their minds. It wasn’t something they could do for him. They couldn’t enter his dreamscape; they couldn’t even handle their own. And so, he felt himself falling away into his pillows, eyes fluttered shut while he fell into a comatose state. Lou had told him about an anchor. It wasn’t his father, who consistently remained silent when he prayed. It wasn’t his campmates, where they remained temperamental and untrustworthy. No, all he had were his wits and his will. Maximus planned to find the man who entered his dreams, the one who held great power over his domain. If he could learn from him, train from him and combine the realms of reality and fantasy, then perhaps the ache inside of him would fade, the darkness receding inch by inch. 

Loneliness was not an unkind thing; it was familiar. Burning. Yearning for something more, but the familiar void left him just as empty as before. 

Come, child of slumber. Lay your weary head to rest. Dreams may run aplenty, But nightmares claim you best.

[buns-with-a-book]

Into the Spardaverse 3 - A Tale of Two Worlds

Donte and Dante talk, Cassandra and Reboot Vergil talk, lots of talking but expect some action in the next chapter.

Fandom: Devil May Cry, DmC (Devil may Cry) Characters: Dante, Reboot Dante, Vergil, Reboot Vergil, OC Tags: @nimnox @furyeclipse @synchronmurmurs @harlot-of-oblivion @queenmuzz

Summary: Dante and Cassandra hear the tale of the brothers of Limbo City. 

Dante looked around the safehouse the punk found for them. It seemed to have once been a nice apartment but now it was in ruins, sprayed with sigils and spells to deter demons by someone who came here before them. In the presence of them, he could feel a slight tingling. It was similar to Cassandra, when she summoned the orbs of light to either light the way or burn off the face of a demon. It never burned, at least not enough to slow him down, but it always kept him focused on the task at hand. 

“Hey.” The punk’s voice rattled him from his thoughts. He looked back to him, seeing what looked like a salvaged bag of food set out on the tiny table. There were a couple cans of tuna, some mayonnaise condiment packages, some sliced bread, and plastic utensils. The punk had taken an orange from the bag and was quietly peeling it open. Dante frowned at what was available, a frown that made the punk huff in irritation. “Look, if you’re gonna keep on going to find your sis, you’re going to need to eat.” 

“No pizza?” He asked, walking over to the worn couch and flopping down. 

“Nope.” The punk crossed his arms. “Haven’t had pizza in years.” 

“Jeez, what kind of life do you live?” Dante huffed, opening one of the cans and mixing the mayonnaise with the tuna. “Next thing you know, you’re gonna tell me you haven’t had strawberry sundaes.”

“Bleh, strawberries. Don’t like em.” 

“What!?” Dante stared at him. “They’re the best thing ever!” 

“I don’t like the seeds. They get everywhere and it’s distracting.” The punk replied. “I prefer oranges anyway, especially in orange sherbet.” He added, taking an orange slice and popping it into his mouth. Dante made a face, thankful that he didn’t turn out like this punk. He couldn’t fathom a life without his beloved sundaes. He quickly made a sandwich of tuna and mayo and chomped in, wincing at the taste. It wasn’t pizza...but it would do for now. 

“So, kid, how long have you been hunting demons?” Dante asked between bites. 

“...since I was a kid. I was tossed around from place to place, fighting off demons that hunted me down.” Dante noticed the softness in his tone. His hand reached up to hold a necklace, rubbing the red jewel. Dante could only presume that it was the Perfect Amulet, in another form. “Everywhere I was sent to, there were always demons trying to kill me.” 

‘Ain’t that a familiar story.’ Dante mused, staring at the punk. 

“What was your mom like?” The punk asked suddenly, rousing Dante from his thoughts. 

“What?” 

“Your mom. We’re obviously more alike beyond looks and names.” The punk said, sitting up to face him properly. Dante took another bite of the sandwich.

“Well...only if you go first.” He waved his hand. He could feel the scowl that the punk was throwing at him before he let out a sigh. 

“My mom was an angel.” He said softly. “From what I remember, she held off Mundus’ armies as long as she could while Dad fled with us.” 

“Wait, Sparda was with you?” Dante interjected. “Lucky. My dad was never with us when...that happened.” He winced at the memory of smoke and flames, of the final scream from the mother he wasn’t strong enough to save. “Nor was Verge.” He raised an eyebrow at the punk. “Speaking of him…” 

“What about your mom.” The punk hissed. It seemed that the topic of Vergil was a sore subject, not that Dante could blame him. For years, Vergil was a subject that he didn’t want to think of, especially after what happened on Mallet Island. Dante let out a sigh.

“Ok, ok. My mom…” He closed his eyes, pushing past the memories of ash and smoke and blood. “She was a witch, as I recall. Familiars, potions, the whole shabang. Don’t really remember my dad much...I think he visited a few times before he just...disappeared. Everybody talks about him like he’s the hottest shit that ever walked around. Hell, even a whole town worshiped him like a god.” He chuckled at the thought of Fortuna. The punk listened quietly, shifting in his seat. 

“The Sparda I know...that I remember, he was just a really good swordsman.”

“Sounds like some things never change.” 

“He used to be kicking until recently...until the Demon King found him and killed him.” Dante winced at that. Some things never changed indeed. “I wanted to meet him, before he died, but…” He let out a sigh. “So much for that. Shit.” He hissed. 

“I understand that feeling kid.” Dante finished the sandwich and stood, walking to the window. “There’s a lot I wanna say to my old man, a lot I wanna ask...but I can’t.” He sighed, leaning against the windowsill. He looked down the street and blinked, watching as a tiny golden butterfly fluttered down the street. It stood out from the bleakness of Limbo City. He smiled, knowing exactly what that butterfly was. He held out his hand, letting the spectral butterfly land in his palm. His hand bloomed with warmth, reminding him of the sun that was shrouded behind grey and green clouds. He looked up, out the window, and felt a sense of direction. It was northward...and it was nearby. An image of a mansion flashed in his mind, guarded by a gatekeeper made of twisted metal and appearing like an angel. A flicker of his own demonic energy melded with the butterfly, giving its wings a bright-red glow. 

“What was that?” He heard the punk ask behind him. 

“The way me and my sis communicate, if one of us is in danger.” He said, letting it flutter away. “I know where she is.” He pointed out the window. “Up that street, a couple lefts, and we’ll end up at a big ole mansion. That’s where she is.” The punk let out a frustrated sigh. “Hm?”

“She’s at The Demon King’s Palace. Fucking great.” 

“So, we’re going to kick the ass of a jackass?” Dante laughed dryly, looking back to the punk. The laugh died off at the sight of him, looking more vulnerable than he ever saw. There was also the fact that he hadn’t seen Vergil at all, neither his own brother or the brother he knew the punk had. 

“That jackass...is my brother.” 

“Jeez. Everything just has to get more complicated.” Dante muttered, running a hand through his silvery-white hair. It didn’t help that the Demon King was the punk’s brother...who slew their father as well, he could never see Vergil doing that. It was those thoughts that he mulled over. In the distance, he swore he saw a blur of neon blue, like lightning across the cloud-covered sky. He smirked and stood up.

“Come on kid, we’re gonna meet someone at jackass’ mansion.”

“Who?” The punk quickly got up.

“My brother.”  

---

Cassandra hummed softly, watching the orb of sunlight she summoned bounce around at the mere gesture of her hand. While this little bitch that called himself Vergil was searching for her Dante and Vergil, she was passing the time as his prisoner. She had settled herself on the edge of the bed but dared not take a nap. It was too risky, especially with the Demon King lurking in the very walls of the mansion that was his palace. She had no idea how the demons of Limbo City operated, if even sleeping in their realm would damn her to a hundred years of slumber. 

‘When all else fails, assume their rules are the same as the Fair Folk.’ She thought. The handle of the door twisted before opening, revealing Vergil entering her prison cell of a bedroom. Behind him was a demon on spindly legs, holding a tray of tea. She stared at the demon, unsure how to react to it aside from disgust. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked, struggling to sound as neutral as possible. 

“My agents are seeking out your allies, Rose. It will not be long before they come.” An unsettling grin crept on his face. “And with their arrival, they shall be destroyed.” She noticed his unsettling confidence, as if he knew they would be crushed by him. Did he know what the Dante and Vergil she knew held? Did the power of Sin Devil Trigger exist in this world? Or was it impossible, a lofty unreachable standard? She didn’t dare ask, not wanting to spoil the powers she knew they had, to catch the Demon King off guard. 

“So…” She hummed, glancing around the walls. “Nice sigils you got on the walls. Are they supposed to do anything?” Vergil looked at her in surprise. He carefully pulled off his gloves, walking over to her. She stood up, backing away from him. “What are you doing!?” He took her hand, ignoring her recoil from the touch. 

“Perhaps you are no angel…” Cassandra bit back a scathing comment, trying to tug her hand out of his. He let go after a few moments, Cassandra quickly pulling her hand close to her. “Would you like tea?” And he had the gall to ask if she wanted tea!? He gestured to the demon who had been standing in the room. The demon looked towards her, tilting it’s faceless head. 

“...no thank you.” She whispered, trying to keep her voice even. She dared not ask about his mother, she was certain either Mundus killed her or he did it himself. “I...I don’t have the appetite at the moment.” 

“Suit yourself, Rose.” He sighed and stepped back, walking to the demon. He picked up a teacup and began to sip the tea. Cassandra stared at her hand, gently rubbing the skin. She didn’t dare try to activate her healing Crest, not wanting to attract any more of his attention than she already had. “Who were your parents?” Vergil asked. She frowned. 

“Soren and Eos Greensleeve. If you’re asking if they were human or not, they were human as far as I was aware.” 

“Was?” 

“They’re dead.” Another half-truth. Stella was dead and Nyx was dead to her. Vergil hummed quietly at the news.

“My condolences. I know what it is like to lose your parents.” She raised an eyebrow at that. 

“Eva...and Sparda, correct?”

“You know of them?” He asked, turning to face her. She swallowed. 

“I’ve heard of them, how Eva sacrificed herself to save her sons. Sparda’s last gift, Rebellion and Yamato...all rumors and legends. I wonder how Sparda would react, seeing his son as the Demon King?”  

“Quite interesting that you speak of a dead demon, a demon who did not bend to my will. It was a shame I had to kill Sparda.” Cassandra stared at him, her body frozen from shock. “He was half-mad from Mundus’ torture, it was a mercy to kill him.” 

“You speak of mercy but I doubt you were ever capable of it.” She whispered. “You only killed him because you could do it.” The look she got from that, a look of casual disinterest in her shock, told her more than he could ever say. 

‘This bitch is a fucking madman!’ She thought, narrowing her eyes at him. She wished she could run from the Demon King, she wanted to, but she had to wait for a distraction from the outside. Preferably named Dante, but any distraction would do at this point. She noticed he was walking away from the window, to the door. 

“Where are you going?” 

“To the library. I will find out who you are, Rose. You may not be the angel I originally pinned you to be but you are someone of interest. I just need to find out who.” The spindly demon trotted after him docily, stepping out of the room before Vergil closed the door and locked it. 

‘You won’t find out, because I don’t belong here.’ Cassandra thought, walking to the window. ‘And by the time you figure it out, I’m gonna be kicking your ass.’ She opened the window, watching as a blue spectral butterfly fluttered to her. She smiled at the sight, taking it into her hand. ‘Make that both of us, you little bitch.’

[srbachchan]

DAY 4060

Jalsa, Mumbai                 Apr 21/22,  2019               Sun/Mon 12:36 AM

Leaving be not one that remains in pleasantness .. separation kindles loss affection and property .. keeping them together tied down to remain is the cure .. and so be done .. so ..

... body parts in revolt of humanness .. the hand the wrists the neck .. all in resistance revolution .. freedom they scream .. freedom from attachment .. freedom from the limited liberty .. freedom of its independence from captivity .. the captivity of nature .. useful , but bound and un attachable  ..

.. they be tied down now in great ingenuity so they stick around .. ! 

.. that be the visual of the Sunday presence .. right ..?

.. the wrists wish to leave the hands .. the neck wishes to leave the body .. knowing fully well their importance in life and in living .. but they are unaware of determined other body parts that have designed their resistance to be putrid and to fail .. such matters of internal indulgence, need personal dedicated attention .. which is what they get .. their exhibition , the efforts to keep them rigid within is what may seem disturbing , but it is indeed the solution to the issue .. that be all in explanation .. and without further ado ing  !!

Love prevails as ever .. bindings of body parts and all ..

A viewing has ended .. a vacuum .. an emptiness prevails .. there is need to seek another medium to keep the prescribed rest hours of the medics, in accordance to their prescribe .. so a turn of events to the games and finding it dilapidated and one sided , move away .. only to find that the final result was in an excitement never seen before ..reference to a pre record does not bring up the visuals .. perhaps in a repeat it shall .. 

Want, does not have an exit clause .. only with them that have in resignation departed from the worldly and in seclusion of affairs universal, find their peace and devotion with the forces of the divine ..

Want , never leaves us .. we want , we get , we eye more and the cycle of want begins to describe alternate routes to be taken which, I may wish to make secure, shall only lead us to the Black Hole, of nothingness ..

( is it not such a convenient discovery by space scientists , this Black Hole  .. we all get an opportunity to refer to it, when there is a paucity of expression )

in desire and its pursuit, it may be of value to consider where it all came from in the first place .. the start, the beginning .. the conditions then and now .. and if there is even the slightest level difference .. life has been achieved .. 

... my want shall ever differ with the wants of the other or the other other .. will getting their want, be of value to our want .. perhaps not .. then why the chase .. our wants are different, our desires are different .. they be they, we be we .. 

.. to acquire the want of the other - general obsession - could well put you in limbo .. philosophically or mentally and materially .. the damage thus caused would, in quite obviousness, be of a cost as demurrage .. worked to, but unable for its completeness in time, and so demurrage .. let the ships sail away .. no harm .. they shall return if needed by them for us .. immodest, but of needed value ..

.. the dread of the night has abated , somewhat .. not entirely but somewhat .. slumber needs a topic .. a topic to think in the shut eyes, before its reality takes over and the rehearsal begins .. the rehearsals that enact in the cerebrum as other faculties rest after arduous work throughout the day ... and we reach that momentary ‘nirvaan’ .. at times filled with hope and desire .. at times in vague imagery that has no meaning, yet recollects at times years after .. happens does it not .. hey ! stop the world, I saw what I just did in a before episode .. before in a dream or a deep thought wide awake .. happens does it not at times  !!

YES .. indeed it does and seeking explanation has failed .. so best to let it rest in its own sleep .. DND it for .. err .. cannot say when .. both conditions would be alarming .. so breathe calm ..

.. leaving and separation are the stumbles for freedom .. let it be in its own realm .. considerate, accommodating, hospitable and in good ..

Good night .. and ponder .. there shall be answers in many of that we seek ..

Amitabh Bachchan