#replace exploitation not expression
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#robots are stealing my soul#capitalism in a silicone mask#automation anxiety intensifies#i wanted a flying car not this#why does the AI draw hands like that#fake intelligence real consequences#nothing is sacred anymore#artists deserve better#writers are not prompts#creativity is not copy paste#they fed the whole internet into a meat grinder#plagiarism but make it high tech#ethics.exe has stopped working#just because you can doesn’t mean you should#we warned you in every dystopian novel ever#AI can’t feel but i do#no soul in the syntax#a poem isn’t a formula#you can’t automate humanity#the future is a copyright lawsuit#black mirror was a documentary#clippy has evolved and now it wants your job#hyper-efficiency kills nuance#replace exploitation not expression#sci-fi was not an instruction manual#stop replacing labor with theft#i miss when people made stuff#we wanted help not hegemony#just because it talks doesn’t mean it listens#consent was not in the training data
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People have been using AI as a part of art for YEARS, I’m counting video games as art for this one and no one can tell me otherwise.
Using AI in art is not an automatically BAD, EVIL thing. The problem with AI art is the frankly pretty greedy companies taking advantage of lacking protections and copyright.
Using artists, writers and even just regular everyday people’s art, writing, photos and other data to attempt to save money by creating an imitation good enough that the consumer just goes “eh, close enough” so they don’t need to hire more people.
If artists and writers were being compensated for the use of their work in these large scale data models, if these types of AI weren’t being used by greedy people trying to cut down on the costs of paying artists, I wouldn’t have cared, but as it stands it is a morally depraved system that treats creators as nothing but a means to an end and not people trying to pay the bills.
It is a manifestation of tech companies’ complete disrespect and disregard of people’s privacy and right to their own data online for the sake of more effective advertising and profit. Not even to mention the devastating environmental impacts.

#ai#ai artwork#anti ai art#art#I will wipe my ass on your shitty ai generated ‘art’#if it means exploiting the labour of an already underapreciated demographic with the goal of replacing them#I’ve always grown up with an admiration for the skill and work it takes to create something to be exactly the way you picture it#human art is an expression of all it means to be a person#ai art is just a cold unfeeling corporate imitation hoping to save money
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does it feel weirdly dehumanizing to live in this society now to anyone else? everyone so transparently just wants your attention for their own profit. politicians just want your vote, jobs just want all your free time for as legally minimal pay required, advertisers will use anything even remotely trendy or recognizable to force their ad into your thoughts, your phone is always spying on you for data to sell, all brands want their products to be worse so you have to replace them more frequently, people don't even want you to be able to express your gender if it makes you or their unimportant fictional god mad. just. it's so fucking miserable to be alive rn. i feel so pervasively surveilled and unhappy. everyone just wants to exploit me. maybe it's always been like this but it's gotten unbearable lately.
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crossroads | hwang in-ho x fem! reader

*.✧ synopsis: after losing his wife, hwang in-ho buried his emotions. but when he meets you, a player in his deadly games, his carefully guarded walls begin to crumble, forcing him to confront feelings he thought he’d left behind. *.✧ word count: 20.3k (i'm deadass) *.✧ warnings: squidgame season 2 spoilers, violence, death, mentions of exploitation and abduction, implied suicide, additional character (player 143 - hanni) , usage korean words and suffixes, angst, fluff. reader has no canon age but has a kid. backstory is inspired by acrobatic silky from dandadan. your number will be 132. *.✧ note: requests are open! (please). I wrote this to the entirety of squidgame season 2, so it's gonna be long. (from the second game till the end). i wanted to add an oc decided to add my baby hanni instead so i hope it doesn't come off as cringe. part 2 will be posted once season 3 comes out :D i love in-ho so much he's so yummy. masterlist | request here
As everyone shuffled into the area for the second game, Hwang In-ho smirked beneath his mask, his dark eyes scanning the crowd. Among the players, Gi-hun stood out, his gaze darting around the unfamiliar room. Instead of the playground with shapes on the walls that promised, the players were met with two gigantic circles on the floor. Discontent quickly erupted as the crowd realized they’d been tricked. Voices rose in anger, some calling him a fraud, others voicing their disappointment. Most dispersed in frustration, but In-ho, ever the calculated observer, comforted his "friend" with feigned concern. Inside, however, he was ecstatic.
In-ho, operating undercover as "Young-il," watched Gi-hun carefully. He observed the way his mind worked, his expressions shifting as he processed the situation. Every movement and every decision captivated him. This “hero” was an enigma In-ho couldn’t stop studying.
The guards began dictating the rules of the second game. Instead of the anticipated Dalgona candy challenge, players were introduced to the Six-Legged Pentathlon. Teams of five would have their legs tied together and had to complete a pentathlon on a circular path within five minutes. Failure meant elimination.
The scramble to form teams began. In-ho found himself grouped with Gi-hun and two others, players 388 and 390. They needed one more member, and player 388 eagerly volunteered to recruit. Soon, he returned with player 096. Before they could finalize, a loud yet nervous voice interrupted them.
"Excuse me, can she join your group?"
All eyes turned to you and another woman, player 222. Your determined gaze contrasted with 222’s startled expression.
In-ho’s eyes scanned you, noting the [hair characteristic] [hair color] hair framing your tired but kind [eye color] eyes. Your presence radiated something unusual for this cutthroat environment. As 222 tugged at your arm, whispering protests, you stood firm, making it clear your decision was final.
"I'm sorry, but we're already—" In-ho began, only to be cut off.
"Please," you pleaded, your voice steady. "She's pregnant."
The words hung in the air, silencing any objections. Reluctantly, they agreed, replacing 096 with 222. You bowed deeply in gratitude, offering an apologetic smile to 096 before turning to leave.
"I'm really sorry about that," you said earnestly. "But if you'd like, can you team up with me? I'm very skilled at gonggi. I promise! Cross my heart!"
Player 096 hesitated before nodding, following you to form a new team. As you and 096 walked away, two pairs of eyes lingered on you—In-ho’s, as he silently praised your selflessness, and 222’s, her expression a mix of guilt, gratitude, and betrayal.
In-ho couldn’t shake his fascination. Your kindness, despite in a setting like this, reminded him of someone dear, slowly stirring feelings he thought long buried.
Luck favored In-ho’s team; they were the last to compete. This allowed ample time to strategize as they observed the others. Your team’s turn came, and In-ho found himself unexpectedly invested. You and your teammates executed the challenges flawlessly, clearing the first four games in under three minutes. As your team moved on to the final station, In-ho couldn’t suppress a small sigh of relief. But that relief quickly turned to tension when the last player started messing up.
In-ho’s gaze never wavered from you. He knew your team was skilled, but with only 30 seconds left, the stakes were higher now. His heart raced, the pressure mounting as the seconds ticked down. Would they pull it off? The jegi soared into the air, and In-ho held his breath, watching with bated anticipation. The first kick, then the second, the third… each landing perfectly, and still, there was no room for error. It was the final kick that would determine everything. His pulse quickened as your teammate sent the jegi flying, and with one flawless strike after another, they nailed the fifth and final kick.
The crowd erupted into cheers, but all In-ho could hear was the pounding of his own heart. The relief that washed over him felt far too intense. He paused. Why was he cheering so loudly? Why was he worried? His eyes lingered on you as your team crossed the finish line, your victory adding warmth to his chest that he couldn’t explain.
His mind raced, trying to shake off the strange emotions. But then—[eye color] clashed with his black ones, and the world around him seemed to stop for a brief, breathless moment. There was no game, no betrayals, no stakes. It was just the two of you, alone in your own world. You gave him a small wave, and his chest tightened. He waved back, but the gesture felt like a lifetime of unspoken words.
As you were escorted away, the warmth lingered, and In-ho stood there, rooted to the spot, wondering why his chest felt so heavy and yet so alive.
Back in the main area, you found yourself bonding with a cheerful teen, Player 143. Since the first game, you, 143, and 222 had found a quiet camaraderie. You found 143 comforting 222 at the corner at the finish line and decided that you’ll protect those two with all your might. 143 had a bubbly energy that reminded you of home. Her lighthearted teasing about your "crush" on 001 made you laugh, despite the grim circumstances.
"Sure, sure, whatever you say, you little rascal," you replied, ruffling her hair. Her youthful spirit was a balm in this harsh environment, offering a welcome distraction from the tension of the games.
The conversation shifted as she shared bits of her past. Hanni, as she revealed, told you that her debt stemmed from an exploitative contract with her peers, which promised fame and opportunities but left her and her friends in the dark about everything. Despite the weight of her story, she kept her optimism, her dreams still burning brightly. You couldn't help but wonder how someone so young had ended up in such a terrible game, but something was inspiring about her ability to hold onto hope in such a hopeless place.
When she asked about you, you hesitated for a moment but then decided to share. "My name’s [Name]," you began. "I’m a fashion designer and a part-time preschool teacher. I also… have a talent for guns."
Hanni’s eyes widened in surprise. "Guns? How does that fit into designing clothes and teaching kids?"
You chuckled softly. "It’s a long story. Let’s just say I’ve always been drawn to shooting ranges. It started as a hobby, and somehow, it turned into something I’m pretty good at."
You paused, feeling the weight of the conversation shift. The topic of your debt hung in the air. You faltered, not sure whether to open up, but the teen’s unassuming curiosity made you want to share more.
However, before you could speak, the last group of players returned, signifying the end of the game. Hanni immediately perked up, her attention shifting to Player 001 and their group as they found a place to sit together, which was conveniently located just a few steps from your bed. She gave you a sly grin before playfully pointing toward him with her eyebrows.
"Hey, hey, unnie! Look, it’s your man!" she whispered-yelled, clearly enjoying playing matchmaker.
You chuckled before waving her off with a signal to be quiet. The last thing you needed was for word to get out about your little crush, especially in the middle of a deadly game.
As you shushed Hanni, she had other plans. With rapid hand gestures, she invited Player 222 over to your small corner. The unsuspecting woman gave the two of you a confused look before excusing herself from her group of men and heading your way.
When she reached you, you both greeted her gently, concern evident in your voices.
“Welcome back unnie! Congrats on finishing the game, I knew you could do it!”
"How are you feeling? Is the baby alright? Are you in any pain?"
Player 222, shook her head and waived off your concerns, giving a small smile. "I’m alright. Thank you for asking."
Hanni, the chatterbox, didn’t waste a moment. "By the way, unnie, can we know your name? I really don’t know what to call you other than 222. You don’t have to tell us if you’re not comfortable, though!"
Player 222 chuckled softly at the teen's eagerness. "Well, I suppose I could introduce myself." She smiled and then shared her name—Kim Jun-hee. She explained how she had been scammed, abandoned by her boyfriend, and now found herself here, in this deadly game, pregnant and alone.
You offered her your sympathy, relating to her pain. You’d been in similar situations, dealing with your own painful experiences with men over the years. "Unfortunately, we all have our stories," you said, your voice steady but tinged with sadness. "We just have to keep going, don’t we?"
The three of you sat there for a while, chatting about your pasts, your dreams, and your shared longing for a life outside of this twisted game.
"When I get out and get justice, I’ll become a popular idol with my friends!" Hanni declared excitedly, her eyes shining with ambition.
You and Jun-hee exchanged surprised glances, both of you impressed by her optimism despite everything. "You’ll definitely make it, Hanni. You have the spirit for it," Jun-hee encouraged her with a smile.
"Of course we will! And when you’re on TV, you better send us some VIP tickets for your show!" you added, making Hanni beam.
"You better pose cutely for those photocards, okay?" Jun-hee teased.
Hanni shot her a playful look. "Of course! Will this pose be enough?" She asked as she gave a dramatic pose, and you all laughed.
"Hey!" Hanni looked at the two of you with an exaggerated pout. "You’re not doubting me, right?"
You laughed, shaking your head. "No, no, I’m sure you’ll make it. Just don’t forget us when you're famous, alright?"
As Hanni and Jun-hee bickered over the finer details of idol life, you couldn’t help but smile with a bittersweet feeling in your chest. These two didn’t deserve the cards they’d been dealt, and they certainly didn’t belong in this twisted game. But at least for a brief moment, you all found comfort in each other’s company.
You silently prayed for them—no, for all of you. For everyone here who didn’t deserve to be part of this nightmare. You hoped you could all make it out alive and live better lives. But deep down, you knew the path ahead would be treacherous, and the price of survival would be steep.
The conversation ended when the pink guards entered the room. Everyone watched in anticipation as the guards displayed the updated prize pool: 20.1 billion won, or 78,823,530 won per person, with 255 players still alive. The room was suddenly filled with murmurs. Most were in disbelief that the money per person was still under 100 million, some even demanded a recount. The guards paid no attention to the chatter and continued speaking.
"We always keep the door open for you to pursue new opportunities. Therefore, you will take a vote to decide whether to continue the games or not. Whether to continue the games for a bigger prize or to stop here, please feel free to exercise your right to choose in a democratic manner."
Once the guard finished speaking, Jun-hee ushered the two of you to join their group. Hanni nodded with a smirk before standing up. You rolled your eyes, hoping she won't cause a scene once she made her way down. "The two of you go first. I'll follow you shortly," you said, making hand gestures for them to go ahead. Thankfully, the two of them followed without question, although you were sure Hanni whispered something to Jun-hee as they walked down the stairs.
With the girls out of sight, your gaze drifted back to the piggy bank hanging from the ceiling. ‘78 Million won...’ The number flashed in your mind, but instead of the excitement you’d hoped for, a deep sense of emptiness settled within you. Your hand unconsciously rubbed your stomach as memories of what was lost surged into your thoughts.
A pained expression flickered across your face as you stared at the money. It wasn’t enough. It could never be enough to make up for everything you had sacrificed, everything you had lost.
“Just one more game...” You whispered to no one in particular.
The moment you made your way down to the others, the group welcomed you warmly. You offered a polite smile and greeted them back. As was customary, you bowed to the familiar men you had met earlier.
"Thank you again for accepting Jun-hee into your group earlier. I’m glad you all got out safely," you said, your voice sincere.
"Ah! No, no, don’t worry about that, it’s all fine!" Player 390 immediately replied, his voice light and reassuring. He waved his hand dismissively. "If anything, we should thank you! That girl quickly finished her game, gave us much more room to breathe."
You smiled at his words, feeling a small spark of warmth. "Really? Well, I’m glad. Before we found you, she kept boasting about her skills in ddjaki and how she won multiple times with the salesman. Glad to know she wasn’t lying."
Jun-hee rolled her eyes at your comment before giving you a playful shove. You laughed, brushing it off before turning your attention back to the group.
"My name’s [Name] by the way. [Last name], [Name]. I’d rather you call me that rather than this stupid number," you said with a teasing grin.
The rest of the group followed suit, introducing themselves in turn. Player 456 was Gi-hun, Player 390 was Jung-bae, Player 388 was Dae-ho, and last but not least, Player 001 was Young-Il—whose name, when revealed, earned an unexpected pinch from Hanni. You tried not to show any discomfort at the gesture, but you couldn’t help but feel a little awkward. Who were you to ruin a teenager’s fun, though?
As everyone continued to chat, the conversation quickly fell into a comfortable rhythm. It was just nice to talk with someone, anyone, who wasn’t a threat to your survival.
“Woah, ex-marines, huh? I don’t tell this to anyone, but I have a collection of guns at home…” you mentioned, trying to make light of the situation.
“That so?” Jung-bae remarked, his tone casual, as if discussing firearms was just another part of his day.
“Woah, that’s so cool! When did you start collecting?” Dae-ho chimed in with enthusiasm, genuinely interested.
“Let’s see... maybe when I was 19? That’s when I got introduced to shooting ranges, and that’s where my addiction started,” you replied with a nostalgic smile. The conversation felt like a brief escape from the madness of the games.
But then, just as quickly as it began, the conversation slowed. You couldn’t help but notice that, in the midst of it all, everyone was still acutely aware of the situation—life or death hung over every word. You looked up once more at the piggy bank. The money glinted in the low light, but it didn’t comfort you. It only served as a reminder of how far you had come and how much you had lost.
You stared at it for a while, lost in thought. The weight of everything—the game, the choices, the people who would never make it out—pressed down on you, and it was hard to escape the ache in your chest. Your mind wandered, consumed by memories and questions, as you stood frozen in place. Too engrossed in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice familiar black eyes fixed on you. In-ho watched your every move intently, shamelessly staring as you absentmindedly stared into oblivion. His gaze was steady, silently studying you from where he stood. But you were too lost in your thoughts to feel it. There was something about you, something he couldn’t quite place, yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away. It wasn’t the same as before—his cold indifference slowly shifting into something else he didn’t know how to name.
Maybe it was the way you carried yourself despite everything. Or maybe it was the faint sadness he saw in your eyes, something that mirrored his own. But as he continued to watch, something unfamiliar stirred inside him—an unsettling warmth that didn’t make sense, something that he thought he stopped feeling a long time ago. He quickly turned his attention away, pretending to focus on the group.
But that warmth lingered, an ache in his chest that refused to fade. What was it about you?
Hanni gave you a playful shove, snapping you out of your trance. Her bright smile flickered for a moment, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. You could feel her gaze linger on you, a slight shift in her expression that suggested she noticed something was off. You returned a hesitant smile, one that you hoped would mask the swirl of thoughts in your mind.
As the group huddled up, you quickly placed your hand on top of the pile, trying to shake off the discomfort despite the underlying tension. Hanni’s smile faded as she watched you, her eyes narrowing just slightly. Something in her seemed to pause, a flicker of doubt creeping into her gaze as if she was starting to see through the facade you were putting up.
It was as if she could tell that there was more to looks, something that wasn’t quite aligned with what you let on. But, instead of pressing, Hanni gave a soft shrug, her playful demeanor returning. Yet, the doubt lingered in her eyes, like she wasn’t fully convinced of the person she found comfort in.
"In one, two, three... Victory at all costs!" Hanni and Dae-ho shouted, their voice full of energy despite the dark atmosphere.
"Victory at all costs!"
"This time, the vote will begin with Player 001. Player 001, please cast your vote."
Young-il's gaze swept over the six of you, his eyes calm, but with an unwavering trust and determination in them. He nodded subtly at Gi-hun, as he began to move forward without hesitation. As he stepped up to cast his vote, you exchanged a brief, fleeting moment of eye contact with Young-il. The intensity in his eyes made your heart race, but there was something else there too. You couldn't quite place it, but it made your chest tighten. The moment passed quickly, and you looked away, focusing on the task at hand.
When it was finally your time to vote, you felt the weight of everyone's eyes on you, but you didn’t allow yourself to meet anyone’s gaze. You couldn’t stomach the judgment, the disappointment that would be there. Instead, you stepped forward, heart pounding, and pressed the "O" button, committing to the choice you knew you had to make. A cold knot formed in your stomach as you did, but your mind remained focused. You weren’t about to back down now, no matter what the others thought.
As you turned and walked back to your side, you kept your head low, trying to hide the turmoil brewing inside. You heard some murmurs around you, a mix of disbelief and anger from your teammates, but you couldn’t bring yourself to listen. The guilt gnawed at you but so did the hope that this one last game would be enough. You glanced at the piggy bank hanging overhead, feeling the weight of the prize pool, but also the weight of your decision.
The voting ended with 140 votes for “O” and 117 for “X,” meaning the third game would proceed tomorrow. Some players cheered, relieved that they could move forward, while others were disappointed, worried for their survival. You stood frozen as the room around you buzzed with varying reactions. You could feel the stares of your team members who clearly weren’t happy with your decision. You couldn’t meet their eyes, couldn’t bear to see the betrayal there.
Jung-bae’s hand suddenly clapped on your shoulder, pulling you out of your reverie. You looked at him, searching his face for some sign of judgment. Your eyes went down and stared at the "O" patch on his tracksuit. His gaze was full of understanding, a silent comfort that you couldn’t quite put into words. He gave you a quick nod before turning his back, signaling the two of you to move forward, away from the team.
You ignored the whispers, and the betrayed looks from Dae-ho and Hanni. You couldn’t let it matter now. Call it selfish, call it greed, but 78 million won was not enough. Just one more game, and then maybe, just maybe you could end this.
Once the guard handed you your food, you took it mechanically, your hands numb as you walked back to your bed. You couldn’t face anyone—not Hanni, not Jun-hee, and especially not the ones who still believed in you. The weight of their disappointment was more than you could bear. Before you could even sit down, a loud voice called out for you.
"Hey! [Name]ya!" The sudden intrusion startled you. You turned, your heart racing in your chest, and saw Jun-hee and Hanni behind you. The former’s concern was written clearly across her face.
“Why?” she asked softly, her voice trembling.
You avoided her gaze, not trusting yourself to speak. “I... I have my reasons,” you said, your voice cracking just a little, even though you tried to sound convincing.
Hanni, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, muttered under her breath, "I hope it’s worth it." Her words were heavy with something you couldn’t quite define—was it disappointment? Concern? Either way, it cut deeper than you expected. You wanted to say something, anything, to make her understand, but you couldn’t. Not now. Not when everything felt so fragile.
Before you could open your mouth, two sets of hands grabbed each of your arms, forcing you to stand up. With a startled yelp, you asked, "What are you doing?" in a nervous tone. The two remained silent, their grip firm as they dragged you toward where the group was sitting. You quickly noticed that Jung-bae was also being pulled along by Dae-ho, confusion and tension radiating from him. It wasn’t until you reached the group that the weight of everyone’s gaze settled on you. You couldn’t escape the questioning looks from your teammates.
You and Jung-bae exchanged guilty glances before finally looking your teammates in the eye. “I… I’m very sorry, Dae-ho, Gi-hun, Young-il,” you started. Jung-bae hesitated for a moment before following your lead, offering a quick bow. “I’m sorry too, Hanni, Jun-hee, Young-il… Gi-hun, I’m sorry.”
When nobody acknowledged your apologies, Jung-bae went on to explain his reasoning, his voice faltering slightly. “You see, I borrowed some emergency cash, and the creditors are harassing my ex-wife and kid. If I play one more game, I think I’ll be able to settle my debt. So—”
“Jung-bae.” Young-il cut him off sharply. His tone was cold, his expression unreadable, as if disappointment weighed heavy on his words. “You of all people shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t righteous, not twice, not even once.”
The words stung more than Jung-bae expected, and the silence between them grew thick. Without waiting for Jung-bae to respond, Young-il turned to you, his gaze steady and searching. “And you,” he began, his voice quieter but no less firm, “You’ve made your own choice,” He continued, his voice measured, “but don’t try to justify it as something you had no control over.”
You looked at him one more time before looking down, the weight of his words sinking deep into your chest, tightening your throat. Your mind raced, but there was no way to explain it—not to them, not to yourself.
“I know…” you whispered, the guilt rising like a tide, swallowing your words. “And I’m truly sorry…”
The sincerity in your apology felt hollow. You had made the decision. No one had forced you, but the pull of the money, of the chance to end it all, had made it feel like a necessity. And yet, as you stood there, with their disappointed gazes burning into you, it felt more like a betrayal than a choice.
“But looking at the results, even if you two voted against it, we would still have been outvoted,” Young-il said, his voice calm, like he had already made peace with it.
“Right? So it’s not really our fault,” Jung-bae added quickly, trying to make light of the situation.
Dae-ho, who had been quietly observing, scratched his head and gave Jung-bae a comforting pat on the shoulder. “Honestly, I get why you did it. Even for me, ¥78 million isn’t enough. So when I went to vote, I really thought about going for ‘O’ too.”
Hanni and Jun-hee didn’t say much. They nodded, agreeing in silence but not wanting to add anything more. Everyone was feeling the pressure. The reality of it all was sinking in too fast.
Jung-bae, still holding on to hope, added, “Next game, I promise. I’ll—”
“Next game?” Gi-hun’s voice cut through the air, sharp and honest. “Next game, we might have to kill each other.”
The room went still at his words. Everyone seemed to freeze. Gi-hun was right, and his words hit harder than anyone expected. No one spoke right away; the thought of what might happen in the next game was too much to face. The quiet grew heavy as the reality of what they were really up against settled in.
You opened your mouth to say something but stopped when Young-il spoke up. “Gi-hun, that’s a bit much. We all know there’s nothing we can do about it now. Let’s just stay focused. We need to eat, get ourselves together, and prepare for the next round.”
With that, he handed his milk carton to Jun-hee, saying he didn’t drink plain milk. Jung-bae did the same, offering his bread to Hanni, saying he didn’t deserve to eat. Everyone’s gestures, though small, felt like they were all trying to comfort each other in their own way, but it only made the situation more real.
Dae-ho, trying to lighten the mood, asked for Jung-bae's milk carton, but when the male shot him a glare, he stayed quiet, not wanting to argue.
A soft laugh slipped out of you, and without thinking, you handed your milk to Dae-ho. He immediately accepted it with a soft, grateful smile and mumbled a quiet thanks.
You found yourself sitting next to Young-il, feeling more tired than you’d ever felt before, the mental and physical exhaustion had settled into your bones, dragging you down. The male was silent beside you, his presence heavy yet comforting in a way you hadn’t expected. He didn’t say anything at first, but you could feel his gaze on you. It wasn’t intrusive, just there—steady, unyielding, like a silent support.
After a long silence, he spoke, his voice low and steady. “You did what you had to do.”
You blinked at him, not sure whether to be relieved or uncomfortable. “Did I?” you asked softly. “I voted to keep going. I went against you all. I wanted to believe it would be worth it, but I’m not sure anymore.”
“You can’t change it now,” he said, his tone gentle, almost comforting. “We all made our choices. It’s over. What matters now is what we do next.”
For a moment, you felt a knot in your chest loosen. He turned to you, his gaze unwavering, “You made a choice,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “And no one else can tell you whether it was right or wrong.”
The simplicity of his words hung in the air. You couldn’t fix what had been done, but hearing those words from him somehow made it feel a little less like you were alone in your decision. The guilt that had gnawed at you seemed to quiet, even if just for a brief moment.
“Thanks,” you said, your voice softer than you intended. There was a quiet sincerity in it, more than you realized. It was the kind of reassurance you hadn’t known you were craving.
He nodded once, acknowledging your thanks with a slight tilt of his head. “Don’t mind what Gi-hun and I said earlier,” he murmured, his voice steady but softer now. “In a place like this, it’s hard not to be on edge. Everyone’s just trying to survive.”
You nodded slowly, letting his words sink in. “Yeah… I get it. It’s just hard to not feel like the bad guy sometimes.”
“You’re not,” he said simply, his gaze meeting yours for a moment before shifting away. “We all made our choices. Doesn’t make anyone better or worse. Just… human.”
A small smile tugged at your lips, and before you knew it, the two of you had slipped into an easy conversation. It wasn’t much, shared observations about the others, light teasing about Dae-ho being comparable to a golden retriever, favorite movies and hobbies, but it felt like a break from the weight pressing down on you both.
At one point, you let out a genuine laugh, surprising even yourself. Young-il turned his head, his gaze curious as he asked, “What’s so funny?”
You shook your head, a small smile still lingering on your lips. “I don’t know,” you admitted, brushing a hand over your face as if to hide the slight flush there. “Maybe it’s just everything… or nothing. Maybe I just needed to.”
He tilted his head, his expression softening slightly, though he still didn’t smile. “Laughing over nothing, huh? Guess there’s worse ways to handle this mess.”
“You should try it,” you said lightly, teasing just enough to test the waters.
He huffed, not quite a laugh but close, the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes. “Maybe one day.”
For a little while, it was just the two of you, sharing quiet moments and fleeting bits of lightness in the shadow of everything else. The sound of quiet conversations and muted movements surrounded you, but it all felt distant, like you and Young-il existed in a world apart from everyone else. Eventually, the men began excusing themselves to head toward the bathroom. Young-il stayed seated a moment longer, his reluctance obvious in the way he lingered.
“You’re stalling,” you teased softly, a smile tugging at your lips.
He huffed, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe I am.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “Go. They’re waiting for you, and if you stay any longer Dae-ho might wet the floor.”
He chuckled. For a moment, he didn’t move, his gaze meeting yours. “Fine,” he said, shaking his head as he stood slowly, there was a flicker of something—playful or thoughtful, you couldn’t quite tell. As he walked away, you watched him join the others, the soft smile still lingering on your face.
Once the coast was clear, Hanni slid over almost immediately, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Jun-hee joined her just as quickly, both of them zeroing in on you like a pair of mischievous siblings ready to pounce. “You’re smiling,” Hanni said, a teasing tone lacing her words.
Jun-hee, tilted her head, her expression somewhere between amused and curious. “We’ve been with you since the first game and that’s not like you. Care to explain?”
You blinked, immediately feeling awkward. “Really? Now? In a place like this?”
Hanni leaned closer, her expression turning more playful. “C’mon, we’re not gonna bite. Just curious.”
With a chuckle, you let out a dramatic sigh before rubbing your temples. “This isn’t the time for that. We’re stuck in a death game, not a dating show.”
“So, what you’re saying is if we are in a dating show you would totally go for him?”
You raised an eyebrow at Hanni, a smirk tugging at your lips. "I never said that," you replied, shaking your head in disbelief.
Jun-hee joined in, her voice teasing but not unkind. “Come on, don’t play coy with us. You have to admit, something’s up.”
You let out a sigh, but this time it was more amused than anything. “You two are unbelievable.” You leaned back, trying to shift the mood. “Look, it’s not like that. We’re just… having a conversation. It's not that deep.”
But they didn’t back off. Hanni gave you a knowing look, her eyes twinkling. “Having a conversation my ass! You’re out here giggling like a highschooler!”
“I do not!”
“Do too!”
You crossed your arms, trying to hide the smile creeping onto your face. “I’m not giggling, I’m just—” you paused, trying to find the right words, “I’m just… enjoying the conversation, alright?”
Jun-hee leaned in, her eyes narrowed with playful suspicion. “Uh-huh. Sure, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help yourself from laughing again. “Just so you know, we’re stuck in a life-and-death situation, and I’m way past the age of having crushes and all that nonsense.”
Hanni leaned back with a satisfied grin, clearly enjoying the teasing. “Sure, whatever you say! We’ll let you off the hook for now, but don’t think we’ve forgotten.”
“You’re impossible,” you muttered under your breath, shaking your head. Despite the playful banter, the weight in your chest lightened. The tension between you all had shifted, and for the first time in a while, things didn’t feel so heavy. The teasing was light, comforting, and in the middle of everything that was going on, it was exactly what you needed.
You gave her a half-smile. “You’re not gonna let me live this down, are you?”
Jun-hee joined in with a gentle laugh. “Probably not. But it’s good to see you smile for once, even if we’re making fun of you.”
“You two are such troublemakers, you know that?”
Hanni shrugged innocently. “What can we say unnie? We just like seeing you flustered!”
You rolled your eyes, but the smile stayed on your face. “Yeah, well, enjoy it while it lasts.”
“Lights out in ten minutes. Please prepare for bedtime.”
Currently, you and the group were passing out mattresses, following Gi-hun’s insistence that all of you sleep on the floor together, huddled under one of the bed frames with someone keeping watch. While the rest of you questioned whether such precautions were necessary, none dared to speak up, not wanting to provoke Gi-hun’s temper.
As you handed a mattress to Dae-ho, who passed it to Jung-bae, the latter decided to voice what everyone else was thinking. “Hey, is this really necessary? I don’t like sleeping under there.”
Gi-hun didn’t look up as he smoothed a blanket onto the floor. “Once the lights go out, someone might attack us.”
That caught everyone’s attention. Kneeling down to sort through pillows and blankets, You, Dae-ho, Jun-hee and Hanni paused, curiosity piqued. “Why would anyone do that?” Dae-ho asked cautiously.
Gi-hun let out a humorless chuckle. “The prize money goes up every time someone dies. It’s part of the game they designed.”
You frowned, giving his words some thought. At first, his claim seemed far-fetched, but the more you considered the desperation you’d seen in yourself and in others—the way some eyes lingered too long on the prize board—it started to make an unsettling kind of sense.
“That’s insane,” Jung-bae muttered, shaking his head. “Nobody’s that cold. Nobody’s gonna—”
“Nope, Gi-hun is right. You shouldn’t be so sure,” you cut in, your tone sharper than usual. All eyes turned to you. “We’re lucky to have each other, but outside of this group? Desperation changes people. If someone thinks they have a better chance alone, or if they’re blinded by that kind of money, they won’t hesitate.”
Young-il narrowed his eyes at you, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. “You’re saying we should expect someone to try and kill us tonight?”
You shrugged, your expression grim. “I’m saying we’d be stupid not to prepare for it.”
The weight of your words settled over the group like a heavy blanket. Even Hanni and Jun-hee, who usually tried to keep things light, exchanged uneasy glances. Gi-hun nodded as if your words confirmed everything he’d been thinking.
“Well,” Dae-ho said after a moment, his voice forced and upbeat, “at least we have each other, right?”
“Exactly,” Gi-hun said, setting down the last mattress. “We stick together, we’ll make it through. Now, everyone settle in. And keep your eyes open.”
Reluctantly, the group followed his lead, arranging themselves in a tight circle under the frame. You caught Young-il’s eye as he sat down across from you, his expression unreadable but his gaze steady.
Morning arrived faster than you expected, and soon, the guards were leading you to the next game.
The circular room you entered was unsettling. Bright, white walls surrounded a massive platform in the center, and atop it stood three eerie carousel horses, their painted eyes glossy and cold. Around the perimeter of the room were several doors, painted with plain colors.
You stared in quiet dread, trying to piece together what this setup might mean. The atmosphere was heavy, the air almost suffocating.
A light shove jolted you back to reality.
“You okay?”
Young-il stood beside you, his hand brushing your arm. His face, though calm, held a trace of worry as he took in your frozen stance.
“Stay close to me,” he said firmly. “And don’t freeze up now. I know it’s hard, but mistakes…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Just don’t make any. Not here.”
You nodded, swallowing hard, and forced your legs to move as the guards directed everyone to the platform.
The rules were announced in the same monotone voice you’d grown to fear. This game wasn’t just a test of strength or skill—it was a race against time. Mingle. A game where players had to form groups according to the number that appeared and enter a room within 30 seconds. Failure to do so meant death.
The tension in the room became unbearable as the platform filled with nervous shuffling.
Hanni, standing beside you, clutched at your jacket with trembling hands. Her grip was tight and desperate, her pale face mirrored the fear you felt but tried to bury.
You placed a steadying hand over hers. “Stay close to us okay?” you murmured, glancing at her wide, frightened eyes. “We’ll figure this out.”
The platform began to spin, the movement disorienting as the room blurred around you. An eerie, childlike song played from unseen speakers, the melody jarring in its mockery of innocence.
Just as nausea began to creep in, the platform screeched to a halt.
12
Panic erupted immediately. Players screamed and shoved, desperate to find others to form a group.
“We need two more!”
“Who has five?”
Gi-hun moved quickly, scanning the chaos. He approached a nearby cluster of players, tapping one on the shoulder. “How many are you?”
“Four,” Player 120 replied.
“That makes us eleven,” Jung-bae said, pulling the rest of you closer into a huddle.
Before you could fully regroup, others swarmed around, shouting over one another in frantic bids for survival.
“Join us! We’re five!”
“No, come with us! We’re seven!”
The crowd was chaos. People were being pulled apart and dragged into groups as the countdown loomed. Hanni clung tighter to you, her breathing uneven. Suddenly, Player 120 ran off and dragged a woman toward your group. Her face was pale, and her steps stumbled as if she could barely keep up with the force pulling her forward.
“Here! This makes twelve!” Player 120 shouted, shoving the woman into your group before anyone could react.
“Come on,” you urged, grabbing Jun-hee and Hanni by the arms. “Let’s go. Stick close to me.”
Gi-hun directed your group to room 44. One by one, you made sure everyone got through the door, your eyes scanning for anyone falling behind. Once inside, Young-il slammed the door shut.
The locks clicked as the timer hit zero.
A chilling silence followed before the sound of gunfire tore through the room. Cries of desperation from players left behind filled the air, only to be abruptly silenced.
Hanni trembled violently, her hands covering her ears. You knelt beside her, brushing her hair back in an attempt to soothe her. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” you said, though your own hands weren’t quite steady.
The tense quiet was broken by a sudden, sharp voice.
“You are all alive thanks to me!”
The outburst came from the woman 120 dragged, her wild eyes scanning the group. She began to approach Jun-hee with a strange intensity, her smile twisted and unsettling.
You immediately stepped in front of the girl, blocking her from view. Your movements were calm, but your heart pounded as the woman’s gaze landed on you instead.
She tilted her head, her smile widening. “There’s a reason you’ve lived this long,” she said, her tone cryptic. “A reason you were brought here.”
Her words hung heavy in the air as she looked past you, her focus shifting to Gi-hun.
Before she could say more, the announcer’s voice crackled through the speakers, listing the eliminated players. The doors unlocked. Everyone returned to the platform.
Another round began.
4
All seven of you froze, exchanging frantic glances. The tension in the room was suffocating, everyone hyper-aware of the seconds slipping away.
"I'll find one more," you said abruptly, already moving before anyone could protest.
Gi-hun called after you, his voice strained with alarm, but you were already lost in the chaos.
"Wait—!" Hanni started to follow, but Gi-hun grabbed her arm.
"No!" she yelled, pulling against him. "You go! I’ll wait for [Name]-nim!"
"But—"
Young-il stepped in, placing a firm hand on Gi-hun’s shoulder. "Go, Gi-hun. She won’t move unless [Name] is back. I’ll stay with her."
Gi-hun hesitated, his jaw clenched. He looked between them and the dwindling time before nodding sharply. "Take care of them."
Without another word, he ushered Dae-ho, Jun-hee, and Jung-bae into a room. Once inside, Gi-hun hesitated to shut the room, opting to keep it open for a bit as he watched over your group.
Meanwhile, Young-il stayed by Hanni's side, his sharp gaze darting through the chaos, searching for any sign of you. The noise of panicked shouts and pounding footsteps filled the air, but he barely noticed. Instead, his attention was fixed on the spinning platform and the frenzied crowd.
Hanni clung to his arm, her small frame trembling against his. Her breaths came in short, uneven gasps, her grip tightening with each second that passed. Young-il glanced down at her, his usually stern expression softening for a moment.
"You’ll be okay," he said quietly, his voice steady despite the storm around them. He rested a hand lightly on her shoulder, giving her a firm yet gentle pat.
Hanni didn’t seem to hear him. Her lips moved in a near-silent mantra, repeating over and over, "Please come back. Please come back."
Her words hung heavy in the air, a fragile plea against the backdrop of chaos. Young-il’s jaw tightened as he turned his focus back to the crowd. He had to believe you would return, not just for Hanni's sake—but for all of theirs.
Inside the room, Dae-ho’s voice broke the silence. "Will they make it?" he asked, his tone trembling. Gi-hun didn’t respond, his gaze fixed outside, searching for any sign of you. With ten seconds left, hope began to waver—until a familiar voice cut through the noise.
"Hey! I found someone! Let’s go!"
Bursting into sight, you ran towards an empty room with Player 256 in tow. Without hesitation, you grabbed Young-il’s outstretched hand, pulling everyone toward the door. The locks clicked shut just as the timer hit zero.
Inside, your legs gave out, but before you hit the ground, you felt a strong pair of arms catch you. Young-il steadied you, his worried face inches from yours.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice low but urgent.
You nodded quickly, pulling yourself upright. "Thanks," you said, flashing a weak smile before turning to Player 256, who looked pale and shaken.
"Are you alright? Sorry for dragging you like that. I just saw you on the floor and didn’t think twice."
The young man gave you a pained smile, his breaths still uneven. "I’m fine. Thank you—really. If it weren’t for you, I’d be dead."
You patted his shoulder gently, suppressing a sigh. "What’s with young people getting into so much debt these days?"
Before you could say more, a small figure collided with you, wrapping their arms tightly around your waist.
"Don’t ever leave me again, unnie." Hanni sobbed, her voice muffled against your shirt. Warm tears soaked through the fabric as she clung to you.
Your heart twisted at her desperation. "I can’t promise you that, Hanni. But Jun-hee’s always there when I’m not okay?" you murmured, gently running your hand through her hair, trying to soothe her.
Her grip on you loosened a little, but her wide eyes stayed locked on you. “I know… but I still need you two with me,” she whispered, her voice shaky but full of that same hope she always had.
You gave her a soft smile, brushing away a tear that had fallen down her cheek. “We’re not going anywhere,” you said, holding her just a little tighter.
The announcer’s voice suddenly boomed through the speakers, listing the names of the eliminated players. The stark reminder of the game’s stakes sent a chill through the room.
As the list ended, you glanced toward Young-il. His eyes betrayed the fear he had been holding back, relief washing over his face as he met your gaze. For a brief moment, it felt like the world had paused, the chaos outside fading into the background.
"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.
He gave a small nod, his lips pressed into a thin line.
The sound of the doors unlocking snapped you both back to reality. Player 256 bowed deeply to you before sprinting off, murmuring another hurried "thank you" as he disappeared into the crowd.
Taking Hanni’s hand, you and Young-il moved quickly to find the rest of your group. Voices called your names, and you followed the sound until you spotted them.
"There they are!" Jung-bae shouted, relief evident in his tone.
Young-il barely had time to react before Jung-bae threw his arms around him in a tight hug. Meanwhile, Jun-hee rushed toward you and Hanni.
The three of you broke into a tangle of hugs, clutching each other tightly, the fear and relief of survival intertwining in an unspoken bond.
“I knew you were gonna be okay!” Jung-bae exclaimed in relief, pulling Young-il into a tight hug. Jun-hee did the same with you, and you returned the hug, pressing a few affectionate forehead kisses on her before patting her head gently. Gi-hun looked at you and Young-il, his face breaking into a relieved smile. “I was so worried. I’m glad you all made it.”
“Luckily, [Name] found someone in time. If she stayed with us a little longer, she might’ve had a hard time,” Young-il chuckled, praising you.
You laughed, shaking your head. “If anything, I was lucky. I found the guy on the ground. I hope he’s okay.”
The two of you then turned to Jun-hee, asking if she was alright. She reassured you, telling you how glad she was that the three of you came back safely.
“Wait a minute.” Young-il’s voice cut through the conversation. Suddenly, all eyes were on him. “If the next number is eighth, then we won’t need anyone else, right?”
Everyone looked at him with confused expressions. “Why?” Dae-ho asked, genuinely curious. Young-il didn’t respond immediately; instead, he just nodded, thinking.
Jung-bae snapped his fingers, pointing at Jun-hee’s stomach. “Ah, it’s in her tummy.”
A sudden realization spread across Dae-ho’s face as he finally understood. “Ohh, that’s right. That makes eight.” The group shared a lighthearted laugh, while Hanni rolled her eyes, quietly laughing to herself. She muttered something about how corny the joke was. You couldn’t help but laugh, pinching her cheek and telling her to just go with the flow.
“What if it’s twins? Triplets?” you joked.
Amid the laughter, a pair of lingering eyes belonging to Player 333 was watching the group with an unreadable look on his face.
The atmosphere shifted slightly before you were all instructed to return to the platform. The tension in the air was palpable. Another round started.
3
“You three, go–” Gi-hun began, but Young-il cut him off.
“No. I’ll go. You stay with them.”
You all looked at him in surprise, not wanting to leave him behind. However, there was no time to waste. With a determined nod, you immediately grabbed Jun-hee and Hanni before running toward the nearest room. Gi-hun, Jung-bae, and Dae-ho followed closely behind, while Young-il ran off to find two other players.
You three finally approached the only vacant room near you. As you opened it, your blood ran cold. A figure was curled up in a ball in the corner of the room, its stillness unnerving— as if they had already given up already. You glanced at the timer—20 seconds. Your heart raced. Grabbing Jun-hee and Hanni’s arms, you yelled for the curled up figure.
"Hey!" you shouted. The person stirred and looked up at you, confusion in their eyes. You raised the arms you were holding, signaling clearly. The person understood, standing up and moving toward the door. You pushed Jun-hee and Hanni toward the player, making sure they would be safe with her. Once inside, Player 380 quickly closed the door. As you ran away, you heard their voices calling out to you.
“Hey unnie! Come back!”
“[Name]nim!”
You cursed your heart for being soft and getting attached, you cursed your mind for wanting to be a hero. With 13 seconds left, you turned and ran as fast as you could, hoping to find a room, or maybe even Young-il.
10 seconds.
You frantically scanned the area, but there was almost nothing. No sign of Young-il. No sign of anyone else making their way to a room. No group of two finding their last member.
8 seconds.
Suddenly, a strong hand grabbed your arm. You were shocked but didn’t hesitate. You had no time for hesitation now. You kept your pace, determined to survive.
6 seconds.
You spotted someone standing idly, diagonally to you. Wasting no time, you shouted to them. Together, you ran toward the person, desperate to find the last empty room.
4 seconds.
The two of you reached her and grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her toward the nearest open door.
2 seconds.
The three of you rushed inside.
1 second.
The doors slammed shut behind you.
The timer rang. 0 seconds.
Back in room 27, Hanni and Jun-hee peeked anxiously through the window, watching the chaos unfold outside. As the announcer listed the eliminated players, they held their breath, waiting. The second your number wasn’t called, they exhaled in relief.
Inside your room, you collapsed onto the floor, gasping for breath. This was the consequence of playing the hero. You were too old for this, yet here you were again, caught in the madness. Once your breath steadied, you looked at the player you had dragged in. You froze in shock. It was Player 149—the mother of Player 007. The two were peas in a pod, but you hoped nothing bad would happen now that they were separated.
Deciding not to disturb her, you let her have some space and turned to the person who had saved you. Standing up, you immediately bowed in their direction. When they didn’t make a sound or movement, you slowly lifted your head.
To your shock, you were met with Young-il’s face.
Your shocked face clashed with his angry one, but before you could process it, you leapt at him and wrapped him in a tight, warm hug. His initial surprise faded as he returned the embrace, his anger melting away. As he gently patted your hair, he quietly asked, “What happened?”
“The room we entered was already filled with someone. I wanted to stay with Jun-hee and Hanni, but there were no more rooms nearby. I couldn’t let Jun-hee run anymore, so I left them there and ran,” you explained, your voice muffled against his shirt.
He patted your head again before slightly pushing you away to look at your face. Still holding you, the two of you locked eyes. “You’re lucky I was there to save you like a superhero.”
“Yeah,” you chuckled, “Thanks, superhero.”
You gave him a sweet smile before pulling away and knelt in front of the older woman. “Ma’am, are you okay?”
She snapped out of her thoughts and bowed, immediately responding, “Yes, yes. I am. Thank you so much for saving me.”
“Where’s your son?”
“Sorry?”
“Weren’t you with him?” Young-il asked, his concern growing for their safety. You watched her closely, hoping nothing bad had happened. Her eyes bounced between you and Young-il as she tried to formulate an answer. “Oh, well, I lost him. He told me to wait while he brought one more person, but in all the chaos, I lost him.”
“He didn’t come back?” Young-il’s question made her stand up abruptly.
“My son isn’t that kind of person!” she said, standing defensively. “We may be poor, but he has a good heart. He’d rather be bullied than hurt another person. He’ll never harm anyone, so watch what you say about him!”
You stood up quickly and gently placed your hands on her shoulders, trying to ease the tension. “Ah, it’s nothing like that, ma’am. It’s just that the two of you have been together from the start, so we were worried when we saw you alone. We didn’t mean to upset you.”
She looked at you for a moment before averting her gaze, calming down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” Young-il added, apologizing as well.
The doors opened then, signaling it was time to move on. With a bow, you grabbed Young-il’s hand, pulling him toward Jun-hee and Hanni’s room. When you saw the two of them, your eyes met, and without hesitation, you let go of Young-il’s hand and hugged them both tightly. You whispered your apologies as they cried into your neck. Young-il watched the scene with a bittersweet smile, the sight of you and the others reminding him painfully of his late wife. It felt like a love he could never return to, yet he couldn't look away.
Once they stopped crying, you gently pulled away and pointed them toward Young-il. Without hesitation, they ran to him, wrapping their arms around him and thanking him.
The four of you then returned to the platform, where you met the rest of your group. A silent understanding passed between your team and player 120’s team, as you all stood next to each other, ready for the next round. The music started. The platform began to rotate.
6
“Three women and three men, go!” Gi-hun shouted. Luckily, you all had enough members so only finding the room was the problem, Jun-hee and Hanni stuck close to you as you followed Young-il, Gi-hun, and Jung-bae to a room.
When you returned to the platform, you immediately noticed the lonely figure of player 120, with player 095 nowhere near, you assumed the worst. Standing close next to her, you offer comfort by rubbing her back. “It’s gonna be hard but please stay strong, she now lives through you.” She gives you a pained nod as you placed yourself between Hanni and Young-il.
“What do you think will be the next number?” Jung-bae asked you all.
It was quiet for a moment as everyone contemplated the answer. Without hesitation, Hanni spoke up. "Two."
Gi-hun looked at her, silently asking her to explain her answer. Instead of her, Young-il’s voice broke through the tension. "Yeah, she's correct. It's two. There are 50 rooms, and 156 people are still alive. Everyone will have a pair, but there won't be enough rooms. That's how they conduct these games."
Everyone else looked at him, some expressions confused, others with a hint of surprise, as if they hadn’t expected him to be the one explaining. And they were right.
2
The group stood in silence for a second, each person wondering who would pair with whom. The fear of the rooms being occupied quickly spread so without a second thought, Young-il grabbed your hand and hurried you away. Hanni called your name, and the others followed suit. Dae-ho grabbed Hanni, Jung-bae grabbed Gi-hun, and Player 333 grabbed Jun-hee as they all ran to secure an empty room.
You and Young-il reached the open door of an empty room, but before you could step inside, another player tackled you to the ground. As Young-il rushed to help you up, the player bolted for the room you had been eyeing. Without hesitation, Young-il grabbed the man, yanking him away and throwing him outside with unexpected force.
"Go in!" Young-il shouted at you, as he held the player in his grip.
Your heart was racing, adrenaline flooding your system. You scrambled to recover and quickly glanced around, making sure the coast was clear. With urgency, you rushed inside, positioning yourself near the door, ready to barricade it in case someone tried to steal the room from you. You signaled for Young-il to come in, and as he rushed in after you, you slammed the door behind him, using your body to hold it shut while the player left outside shouted curses at you.
Suddenly, Young-il pulled you into his arms, his hands gentle but firm, as he placed your head against his shoulder. You melted into him, the brief respite giving you both a moment of peace. But that moment quickly shattered when your eyes caught a figure in the corner of the room.
Your breath hitched. In a panic, you pushed away from Young-il and shouted at the figure, your voice trembling, "Leave! Get out!"
The timer was ticking down, and every second felt like an eternity. Panic surged within you as you watched the figure not move—your heart raced. The seconds were slipping away.
12 seconds.
"No way, we got here first," the man argued, his voice laced with defiance.
“Well your partner is not here isn’t he?! Get out!” you demanded, your voice firm despite the tension.
11 seconds.
“Shut your tramp whore! We got here first! Make yourself useful and get out of the room!” he spat back, growing angrier.
10 seconds.
Without a word, Young-il lunged at the man, grabbing him by the throat and forcing him toward the door, his strength overpowering the man’s resistance. You watched in horror, your eyes flickering between the timer and the brutal scene unfolding before you. With only three seconds left and the man still struggling. Young-il didn’t hesitate. His actions were swift and decisive, final and cold. With one swift move, the room fell silent, and the door locked.
0 seconds.
Young-il stood over the lifeless man, his face distant, his expression hollow. It was a look that didn’t belong on him. In the short time you’d known him, he’d always had this warm, protective energy, this quiet tenderness that made you feel safe. But now, his usual caring nature seemed clouded by something else.
Without thinking, you crossed the room to him, gently taking his hands in yours. You could feel his tension, his unwillingness to meet your gaze. Your heart ached to see him like this, and you whispered softly, “Thank you.”
“I’m sorry,” his voice barely above a whisper, as though he was apologizing for something you hadn’t even asked him to do.
“What for?” you asked, trying to meet his gaze. He avoided it, looking down at the body in the room, his face shadowed with regret.
“You did what you had to do, Young-il. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t be here. We’d be dead. So, thank you.” You squeezed his hands, trying to convey the depth of your gratitude, even if the words felt too small.
“But—” he started, voice faltering.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. I promise.” You could feel his fear—fear that you might look at him differently now. You could see it in his eyes, that vulnerability he tried to hide. You slowly reached up, your hand finding his cheek, your touch gentle and comforting. His eyes closed as he leaned into it, the tension melting from his body for just a moment. "Murder is something I’m used to, Young-il. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine… as long as you’re here."
The air between you thickened, charged with unspoken words. The closeness, the way your fingers lingered on his skin, the way your breaths synced together—it felt like everything was leading to this moment. Slowly, instinctively, you both leaned in, drawn to each other like magnets.
But just as your lips were about to meet, the loud sound of the doors unlocking shattered the moment. You both froze, hearts pounding in your chests, reality crashing back in. You pulled away quickly, your face flushing with embarrassment.
You stepped back, flustered, and gave a quick bow, mumbling, “I—I should check on Hanni and Jun-hee.” You turned to leave, nearly tripping over your shoes in the rush. That shared moment lingered in the air, and even as you fled, your heart still raced with what almost happened, you could feel the warmth of his gaze lingering on your back, the connection between you stronger than ever.
After the third game, you found yourself back in the fort Gi-hun had organized. The group was scattered, tending to their own thoughts or conversations. Across the room, Jun-hee was deep in conversation with Player 333, the man you now knew was her ex-fiancé—the one who’d abandoned her. Hanni stood by your side, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern as the two exchanged words that seemed both loaded and cautious.
Meanwhile, Gi-hun instructed the others to count the remaining players and determine how many wanted to continue playing.
“There are 55 players who voted in favor of continuing,” Jung-bae reported as he returned.
“Are you sure?” Gi-hun asked, his voice tense.
“I counted twice.”
Dae-ho pointed to the “O” patch on Jung-bae’s uniform. “Did you count yourself?”
Jung-bae glanced at the “O” patch on his chest, pausing before muttering, “Fifty-six.”
“Fifty-seven,” you added, raising your hand while still keeping an eye on Jun-hee and her conversation.
Dae-ho exhaled heavily, frustration evident. “We have forty-five on our side. We’re outnumbered by twelve.”
The weight of the statement settled over the group like a cloud of despair.
Young-il stood up, breaking the silence. “It may seem like a big gap, but if six of them change their minds, it’s tied. Seven, and we win.”
“But what if some of the X votes switch to O?” Dae-ho countered.
“They likely won’t,” Young-il replied evenly. “Those who voted X wanted out even when the prize was smaller. Now they can leave with even more money. Why risk their lives again?”
You joined in. “Me, and Jung-bae will definitely vote X. That’s two already. If four more switch sides, it’s a tie. Five more, and we win.”
Gi-hun nodded decisively. “Then let’s go try to convince them.”
“No,” Young-il said firmly. “That’s too risky. Most of them want to continue playing. If we start making moves, they won’t sit back and let us sway their votes.”
Gi-hun’s frustration boiled over. “So we just stand here and pray they change their minds? What if we lose again? Are we supposed to march into another game like sheep?”
Hanni hesitated before speaking, her voice soft but steady. “Gi-hunnim, I don’t think it’s wise to provoke them. They might do the same to us, and they have the upper hand. People are here for money. If we start something, it could lead to a fight before we even vote.”
Her words calmed the rising tension, and the group fell into silence as guards entered the room, signaling the start of the next vote.
After the third game, only 100 players remained. The prize money now totaled 35.6 billion won, meaning each player will earn 356 million won if they would go home now. Jung-bae approached Gi-hun, his face grim yet determined. “With that kind of money,” he began, his voice low but certain, “some might change their minds. If we can convince six more people to vote X, we’ll tie. Seven, and we win.” His words hung in the air, filling the room with a fragile sense of hope.
The guards soon interrupted, announcing that the voting would proceed in reverse order of player numbers. The tension thickened as Gi-hun approached the booth, the echo of his footsteps amplifying the silence. “Player 456, please cast your vote,” one guard intoned, his monotone voice chilling in its detachment.
One by one, players approached the booth, many clinging to their original decisions. The scoreboard slowly reflected the changes. When it was Jung-bae’s turn, he strode forward with purpose, slamming his hand on the X button. As he returned to Gi-hun’s side, he showed off his X patch and declared, “Seven more to win,” his voice carrying the first flicker of confidence the group had heard in hours.
Player 380 voted X. Relief swept through your group—six more to go.
Player 185. X. Five more.
Your turn came, and you didn’t hesitate. X. Four more.
Player 125. X. Three.
Player 120 followed, then Player 015. Each X vote brought you closer to the tie. When Player 007 slammed the X button, he shouted, “Let’s go home!” and tore off his O patch triumphantly.
“That’s seven!” Jung-bae yelled, grinning in excitement. “We did it!”
The celebration was short-lived. The next player, an elderly woman, calmly voted O. The room fell silent as her choice appeared on the scoreboard: 49 for X, 50 for O.
Everyone turned toward the last player, Player 001. The atmosphere shifted, the tension nearly suffocating. The air felt heavy with anticipation as he slowly made his way to the booth. Young-il’s slow steps toward the voting booth felt endless. Every step seemed deliberate, as though he were savoring the weight of the moment.
Hanni, looking at Young-il, quietly gripped Jun-hee’s arm, her face pale. “What’s wrong?” Jun-hee asked quietly, her voice tinged with concern.
Hanni hesitated before speaking, her words barely audible. “Young-ilnim... he scares me sometimes.”
Jun-hee frowned. “Why? Did something happen?”
“When we were waiting for [Name]nim during the third game, I thought I saw him making eye contact with the guards,” Hanni murmured. “It was like... like they knew him. I don’t know, maybe I imagined it, but it didn’t feel right.”
Jun-hee’s brows furrowed, her protective instincts kicking in. “We should tell [Name]nim.”
“No!” Hanni shook her head rapidly. “I don’t want to ruin what they have. [Name]nim deserves to be happy. If I’m wrong, I don’t want to mess things up.”
Jun-hee looked at her with a mix of worry and understanding, her hand coming to rest on Hanni’s shoulder. Before either could say more, the sharp sound of Player 001’s vote echoed through the room.
X.
A stunned silence followed before the scoreboard updated, displaying an even 50 for X and 50 for O. Young-il turned to the group, a smile on his face as he raised his hand in an okay sign. Your side erupted into quiet cheers, exchanging looks of disbelief and relief.
“It’s a tie. We did it!” Dae-ho exclaimed, grabbing your shoulders in excitement. You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking him back as a rush of emotion coursed through you.
Relief swept through the room, but a palpable tension lingered as everyone waited to hear the outcome of the tie.
"Wait, since it’s a tie, what does it mean?" Player 100 asked.
The guard responded flatly, "Clause Three: If the voting ends in a tie, players will vote again. To give you time to think, the vote will be conducted tomorrow." He glanced around the room, his gaze cold and impassive. "Until then, please consider your future carefully."
As dinner commenced, your team welcomed new members—Players 120, 149, 007, and 246. The mood was a bit lighter, though tinged with underlying anxiety. Small talk carried the group through the meal, with some making half-hearted jokes to distract from the harsh reality of their situation.
“I’m surprised by the food today,” Hanni remarked, biting eagerly into her roll of gimbap. “I thought it would be bread and milk until the end.” You gently nudged her to slow down, worried she might choke.
Jun-hee, chewing thoughtfully, leaned closer to Hanni. “I was so scared earlier, especially with Young-ilnim. I thought for sure he’d vote O like the first time.” She hesitated, then whispered, “Hey, we really should tell her—”
“Tell me what?” you interjected, raising a brow.
“N-nothing!” Hanni stammered, her cheeks coloring as she avoided your gaze.
“Hmm, I’m watching you two,” you teased, making a gesture before turning your attention to Dae-ho, who was animatedly chatting with Jung-bae.
“I really thought you were going to vote O, like on day one,” Dae-ho admitted, glancing at Young-il. Jung-bae, clearly done with the male's rambling, stuffed a piece of gimbap into his mouth before addressing Young-il directly. “Thank you, Young-il. You gave us another chance.”
Young-il shook his head slightly, his expression neutral. “I just want to stay alive. The money’s enough now, so I need to get out of here. Alive.” His eyes flickered briefly to Gi-hun as he emphasized the last word, the intensity of his gaze sending a chill through the group.
The moment was interrupted by Player 246, who spoke up, his voice laced with apprehension. “Do you think we’ll be able to win the second vote?”
Reality hit like a blow, extinguishing the fragile flicker of hope that had momentarily lit the group. A somber silence followed until Young-il broke it. “We’ll have to go for broke,” he said, his tone measured but firm. “Like Gi-hun said earlier, we should try to convince some of them to change their minds before the second vote.”
“Will they, though?” Player 007 asked, his skepticism clear. “Most of them are blinded by the money now.”
“My son,” his mother chimed in with an oddly cheerful tone, “When you’re hungry, you start to miss home. All we have is this good roll of gimbap, and everyone will feel the pangs of hunger tomorrow.” Her logic was far-fetched, but no one dared contradict her.
007 stood and tried to address the opposing team, using the oll of gimbap as leverage. However, instead of having the result he expected to get, he got the total opposite. The men shouted over each other, their voices rising to a chaotic crescendo. Gi-hun, visibly conflicted, stared at his gimbap before unrolling it. Inside was a fork, its sharp prongs gleaming ominously. A weapon.
Unbeknownst to most, a fight had broken out in the bathroom. The announcement of eliminated players startled everyone into silence. Gasps and murmurs filled the room as the piggy bank suddenly rang. With 95 players remaining, the prize money now stood at 36.1 billion won, increasing each player’s worth to 380 million won.
“What’s happening?” Jung-bae whispered, his voice trembling with unease. His question hung unanswered as the bathroom doors opened. Players emerged, bloodied and bruised, their faces marked by fear and rage.
Player 124 from Team O stumbled into the middle of the room, his voice shaking with anger. “Listen, Team O!” he shouted. “When we were in the bathroom, these X bastards tried to kill us! They killed some of us, including my friend—”
“Bullshit!” Player 047 from Team X shouted back, cutting him off. “You’re the ones who started it!” He gestured toward where Team X sat, his voice rising with fury. “They threatened one of our people! They attacked us to win the second vote!”
The room erupted in chaos. People were shouting, pointing fingers, and some even started pushing and shoving. The tension in the air was thick, and it felt like everyone was on edge, afraid of what might happen next. You could feel the anxiety creeping in as everyone seemed to turn on each other.
In the midst of the chaos, Player 100 quickly rounded up the O team, ordering a headcount. Player 047 did the same with the X team, trying to keep control. The numbers were close, with 47 players on the O team and 48 on the X team. The X team now had the advantage in the voting.
“Two people died on our side,” Player 047 said, sitting down. “That means we lost three, and now they have the upper hand.” A player on their team pointed out, “We still have a better chance. We’re one vote ahead now.”
Jung-bae, trying to stay positive, spoke up. “As long as we don’t change our minds, we’ll win by one vote tomorrow.” The room quieted down as everyone whispered amongst themselves, the weight of the upcoming vote heavy on their minds.
Suddenly, the announcement broke the silence. “Attention, please. Lights out in 30 minutes. All players, please return to your beds and prepare for bedtime.”
Player 047 stood up, trying to rally his team. “Listen, no one can change their mind, okay? We’ll win tomorrow. Stay strong, we’ll make it through.” His words were filled with determination, and the room filled with a low hum of agreement from his team.
Once everyone started to settle down, Dae-ho leaned in, speaking in a low voice to your group. “Those guys are acting really suspicious. They’re planning something, I can feel it.”
Jung-bae, not paying much attention to the others, just waved him off. “Whatever. Once we win tomorrow’s vote, it’ll all be over.” He sounded confident, but you could tell he was just trying to keep the morale up.
You turned your gaze to Gi-hun, his face unreadable. You knew he was thinking about the situation carefully. After everything that had happened, you weren’t sure what he was planning. But something about the way the O team had been looking at you all, with a certain malice in their eyes, told you that there was more to this than just a vote.
Finally, Gi-hun spoke, his voice calm but filled with tension. “Once the lights go out, they’ll attack us.” The group went silent at his words, the weight of his statement sinking in. 007’s eyes widened in disbelief as he asked, “Are you serious?”
“Yeah.” You replied this time, everyone looked at you waiting for your explanation. “These people, they didn’t vote O because they wanted to play. They voted O to get more money. And now that they know killing increases the prize, they’ll do whatever it takes to do it.”
Young-il, who had been quiet up until now, spoke up. “Then we should attack first. We need to take them by surprise.” His suggestion was met with agreement from Player 047, who nodded, adding, “We have the women and elderly on our side. If they attack first, we’ll be at a huge disadvantage.”
But Gi-hun wasn’t on board with the idea. “No. We can’t start a fight like that.” Everyone looked at him, confused. “We need to stay calm. If we kill each other, that’s exactly what they want.”
Jung-bae frowned, clearly not understanding. “Who are they? Who are you talking about?”
“The makers of the game,” Gi-hun said bitterly, his eyes burning with anger. “They’re the ones who want us to kill each other. They’re watching us right now.”
The room fell silent as the others absorbed this revelation. You felt a chill run down your spine. “Where are they?” Dae-ho asked, his voice tight. You could hear the fear in his words, even if he was trying to hide it.
Gi-hun didn’t flinch. He simply looked up at the ceiling, his gaze steady. “Up there,” He murmured, his voice barely audible but filled with conviction. Slowly, everyone looked up at the ceiling, following his gaze. Gi-hun’s eyes were fixed on the higher levels. “The control rooms are above us. Their leader wears a black mask. If we capture him, we’ll have leverage.”
Young-il’s skepticism was evident. “How are you going to fight them? They’ve got guns.”
“We’ll take their guns,” Gi-hun answered plainly, locking eyes with Young-il. His words weren’t a suggestion—they were a plan.
“From the masked men?” Player 246 asked, his voice filled with disbelief.
Gi-hun nodded resolutely. “Yes. We’ll catch them off guard. They won’t expect it.”
“That’s too dangerous,” Young-il said, shaking his head. “Even if we manage to steal their guns, we’ll be outnumbered.”
Gi-hun’s eyes hardened. “What’s your plan, then? Sit around and wait to die? Watch as they pick us off, one by one? Is that your idea of survival?” His voice was harsh, the desperation in his words cutting through the tension.
The silence that followed was thick, as everyone contemplated the harsh reality they faced.
120 spoke up, her voice uncertain but full of fear. “Do we even stand a chance?”
“We do,” Gi-hun said, his voice unwavering. “If we strike first, we catch them off guard. They’ll never see it coming. The people running this game think we’re powerless, but we have the upper hand now. This is our last chance to end these games once and for all.”
“How do you plan to take their guns?” Young-il asked again, his skepticism still evident.
Gi-hun didn’t hesitate, as if he had already thought it through. “Once the lights go out, we’ll have our chance.”
Lights out in 5 minutes.
As everyone made their way to their beds, Jun-hee excused herself, telling you she needed to talk to someone. You offered to go with her, but she waved you off, saying she’d be quick.
You turned to Hanni, who had a distant, absent look in her eyes. She wasn’t fully there, trapped in her own thoughts. You rubbed her back gently to snap her out of it. Poor Hanni. She was so young, and she didn’t deserve any of this. She shouldn’t have been thrown into this nightmare.
She deserved a future, a chance to grow and live, not this. It pained you to see her face filled with confusion and fear. There was so much darkness surrounding her, and she was so small, so vulnerable. It made your heart heavy.
“Stick close to me, okay?” you whispered, your voice soft but firm as you brushed her hair behind her ear. “If you can’t find me, go to Jun-hee, okay?”
Hanni nodded, but her expression didn’t fully match her words. You could see the uncertainty in her eyes. You gave her a hug, pressing a kiss to her forehead, trying to offer what little comfort you could. Rocking her gently, you tucked her in, smoothing the blanket around her, and gave her one last kiss before heading to your own bed.
Lights out in 10.
The countdown echoed. You lay down, staring up at the ceiling, your thoughts racing. The seconds felt like hours.
9. What if this is the night? The thought couldn’t help but cross your mind, but you pushed it aside. You couldn’t afford to think that way now. You had to stay focused.
8.
7. The sound of your heartbeat in your ears was almost deafening, the pressure of the countdown like a vice around your chest.
6.
5. Keep it together. You told yourself. Focus. You had to be ready.
4. You thought about Hanni, about Jun-hee. What would happen to them if you didn’t make it? The thought alone made your chest tighten.
3. You forcefully removed them from your thoughts. This was not the time to think about them, they'll be fine, they'll be safe. They'll get out of here alive.
2. The darkness was getting closer. The room was quiet, but you could feel the tension, the electricity in the air. Everyone was waiting, bracing themselves.
1.
The lights flickered and then went off, plunging the room into darkness. Your mind immediately went to Gi-hun’s words: Once the lights go out, get under the bottom beds quickly. You must not get caught by those planning to attack us.
It was quiet.
Then it was loud.
The sounds of screams and footsteps filling the air as people were attacked and killed left and right. You could hear the unmistakable sounds of struggles, the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground. Panic rippled through the room. You prayed silently, hoping that Young-il, Hanni, Jun-hee, and everyone else would make it through the night. You clung to the hope that you would survive, that you wouldn’t be one of the unlucky ones who wouldn’t make it to the morning.
After minutes of waiting, the sound of doors opening signaled the end of the wait. You immediately crawled out from under the bottom bed following phase 2 of Gi-hun's plan.
Playing dead, you stayed as still as possible, listening for the guard’s footsteps. When you heard one approach, you tensed. As the guard scanned your ID, you reached out and grabbed them, pulling them into a headlock. They struggled, fighting to break free, but you tightened your grip, whispering a soft apology. With one swift movement, you snapped their neck. The familiar crack echoed in your ears. Without hesitation, you grabbed their gun, firing at nearby guards, taking them down one by one.
Quickly, you crawled under another bed, planning your next move. The guards on the upper beds were your next target. You fired a shot at an unsuspecting guard, laughing quietly as they looked around, confused. Before they could react, you shot again, taking them out.
From bed to bed, you moved stealthily, inching closer to the stage. Hidden in the shadows, you waited, watching the guards’ every move. You knew patience was key—waiting until they were close enough. When the retreat announcement echoed through the room, you sprang into action. Leaping from your hiding spot, you unleashed a spray of bullets, taking down the remaining guards one by one. Even as they tried to retreat into the gate, you kept firing, not giving them a chance to escape.
But just as the last guard made it to the gate, you pulled the trigger, only to hear a click. You were out of bullets. Panic surged through you. You needed to reload, but before you could, you heard Gi-hun shout, "Hold fire!" You stopped, nodding as you obeyed his command.
Jung-bae and Player 246 rushed forward and forced the last guard to his knees, making him raise his hands in surrender. Slinging your empty gun over your shoulder, you quickly ran to the back, where Hanni and Jun-hee were waiting for you.
“Unnie!” Hanni whispered-yelled as you came into view, her eyes lighting up in relief. Jun-hee was right behind her, giving you a big smile and waving you over with an expression full of warmth. You didn’t hesitate, pulling both of them into a tight hug. The moment felt comforting, but the danger still lingered in the air. You held their faces gently, searching for any signs of injury.
“Are you both hurt?” you asked, voice steady but filled with concern.
In the background, you could hear Gi-hun telling everyone to come out, reassuring them that you wouldn’t hurt them. His voice was low but commanding, a sense of authority settling over the group.
Jun-hee and Hanni shook their heads before telling you they were okay. You exhaled softly, a sigh of relief escaping you as the weight in your chest lifted slightly. You gave them a small smile.
“When you mentioned collecting guns and gunmanship, I really thought you meant some online FPS game,” Hanni said, trying to lighten the mood, a playful glint in her eyes. You chuckled, shaking your head.
“Really now? Well, I might be old, but not that old. I’m still strong enough to do these things,” you said, flexing your arms with an exaggerated grunt. Your muscles were hardly impressive, but the action was enough to make the three of you laugh. It felt good—too good for the situation you were all in.
You continued to smile as the laughter settled, but your thoughts flickered back to the reality. “Alright, you two, go ahead. I’ll catch up with you soon. I need to collect the guns and ammo from the guards first,” you said, your tone firm but affectionate. You ushered them toward the center before you set about your task.
As you moved toward the fallen guards, your hands quickly went to work, collecting the weapons and ammo. You moved with precision, and were so in the zone that you barely noticed a figure following you.
“Are you alright?”
A sharp breath caught in your throat as you jerked your head toward the sound. In an instant, your fingers gripped the handle of your gun, and you pointed it at the source of the voice. When you saw who it was, your tension loosened, but only slightly. Your breath came out in a shaky exhale as you lowered the gun.
“Young-il, you scared me!” you said, pressing a hand to your chest, heart still racing from the sudden scare.
“Ah? That so?” he replied, a small, teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’m very sorry then.”
“Oh, shut up. That’s not the look of someone who’s sorry,” you shot back, though a smile tugged at your own lips.
The two of you shared a brief laugh before the tension in your bodies dissipated enough for you to focus on the task at hand again. “Help me out with these, will you?” you asked, gesturing to the weapons scattered on the ground. He didn’t hesitate, moving to gather the magazines and guns.
The two of you worked in relative silence, the only sounds the shifting of metal and the occasional clink of ammunition being loaded. Despite everything, the atmosphere between you felt strangely light. It was as if, for a moment, the world outside was forgotten and it was just the two of you working together. You didn’t know why, but it was oddly comforting.
“May I ask how you’re so familiar with guns?” he asked, genuinely curious now. He hadn’t expected you to be the type, but he wasn’t in a position to judge anymore.
You hesitated for a moment before replying, your voice softening. “Well, I used to have an aunt who was really into guns. She married a fellow gun enthusiast, and together they opened up a shooting range near our home. At first, I wasn’t that interested. Guns weren’t my thing, really.” You paused, remembering the past. “But then I started noticing someone—someone I had a crush on. He was always reading about guns, and I thought maybe I could get him to teach me. I thought it’d be a way to connect, you know?”
Young-il nodded as he stayed quiet, finding comfort in your voice as you talked him away. You took a deep breath before continuing, the words spilling out freely.
“When I asked him about it, he just brushed me off. Told me that girls like me should stick to cooking and cleaning and that guns were for ‘big boys’ like him. Some bullshit like that.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “I didn’t take it well. It pissed me off, actually. And from that day on, I got serious about guns—just to prove I could be as good as any guy.” You let out a bitter chuckle. “Now, I’ve got a collection at home.”
The air around you seemed to shift. The lightheartedness had drained from the conversation, and you felt the past creeping up on you. Young-il must’ve noticed the change in your mood, because he didn’t speak right away. Instead, he gave you space, knowing you needed it.
A few moments passed before you spoke again, your voice distant. “A few years after we met again, things just... happened. One thing led to another, and I ended up having a beautiful baby girl.” You smiled softly, but it quickly faded. “You should meet her. I think she’d like you.”
Young-il’s face softened for a moment, but he didn’t say anything. You felt the smile fade completely as you continued. “I’m happy to have her, I really am... But it wasn’t supposed to happen that way. The guy... he wasn’t in it for the right reasons. He just wanted to drain me dry and disappear. He never told me about his debt. And the collectors...”
You trailed off, the heaviness of the past taking over. Young-il stayed quiet, giving you the space you needed to process everything.
“You don’t have to continue if you don’t want to,” Young-il said gently, his voice softer than before.
You shook your head, offering him a reassuring smile. “No, no… it’s okay. You deserve to know.” A brief silence passed between you two before you started explaining, the weight of your words settling heavily in the air.
“When the collectors came to my house, I found out that he had put my name and address down as the guarantor. In their eyes, I owed them around 1 billion won, but that was far from the truth. They told me that since I was their ‘favorite’ debtee, they struck up a deal. They’d lower the debt to 800 million... and another form of payment to cover the remaining 200 million…” You paused, your breath catching in your throat. “In return... they’d keep my kid hostage until I paid them every last cent.”
Young-il looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of disbelief and sympathy. He didn’t know what to say, but his expression was enough. He opened his mouth as if to speak but closed it, opting for silence. After a while, he let his mouth open. “Thank you for sharing that with me. It must’ve taken a lot of courage to tell me, especially to someone you’ve only just met.”
Grabbing the last available gun, you smiled back at him, but it was a smile tinged with sadness. “It’s alright, Young-il,” you said, your voice steady despite the heaviness in your heart. “I know this is not the right time for these things, but you’re definitely more than just someone I’ve only just met.”
Young-il froze, your words sinking into him like a knife he hadn’t seen coming. He kept his face neutral, but inside, a storm raged. He had tried to suppress it—whatever it was that made his chest tighten whenever you spoke to him, that made his thoughts drift to you in moments of quiet. But now, hearing you say those words, the feelings he had buried clawed their way to the surface.
His gaze flickered to you, trying to gauge if you understood what you had just done. But your eyes met his with a casual earnestness, as if you hadn’t realized the impact of your words. Of course, you didn’t. You couldn’t.
You didn’t know that every small interaction with you chipped away at the walls he had built around himself. That every glance, every word, every fleeting moment made it harder for him to maintain the facade of indifference he had perfected over the years.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again, his jaw tightening. What was he supposed to say? That you were right? That you were more than just someone he’d met in the chaos of the games? That you had become something he didn’t know how to handle?
No. He couldn’t say any of that. Not now. Not ever.
So instead, he said nothing.
“Are you ready?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, completely unaware of the turmoil brewing inside him.
He nodded once, stiffly, as if the motion required more effort than it should. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice low and even.
As you turned away, he lingered for a moment, watching you. His chest ached with a mix of emotions he didn’t want to name—ones he thought he had locked away when he lost the love of his life. He had told himself there was no room for them, especially not now, especially not with you.
And yet, here they were, threatening to unravel him.
He shook his head, forcing himself to follow after you, his steps heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid. He couldn’t afford to let himself feel—not here, not in this place where feelings were a liability.
But as much as he tried to bury it, he knew it was too late. He had already let you in, even if you didn’t know it.
You stood beside Young-il, both of you observing the remaining players, the silent anticipation thick in the air. The guns and ammo laid before you, the weight of the upcoming mission pressing down on everyone. Gi-hun, at the front of the group, finally broke the silence, his voice steady yet resolute.
“We will capture those who captured us, putting an end to this game, and making them pay.”
The weight of his words hit hard, but there was no turning back now. Everyone knew what was at stake. Beside Jun-hee, Hanni's gaze lingered on Young-il, watching him carefully. There was something off about him, something she couldn’t quite place, but she was determined to figure it out. She was always one to notice the little things.
Gi-hun’s voice rang out again, more direct this time. “Anyone who knows how to use a gun and wishes to join us, please step forward.”
For a long moment, no one moved. Fear was a suffocating blanket that kept them frozen in place. Then, Jung-bae stepped forward, his presence almost a defiance against the tension in the room.
“I know you’re scared,” he said, his voice firm, though tinged with his own nervousness. “We’re scared too. But this might be our last chance to make it out of here alive.” A beat of silence followed, heavy and thick. Then, with a quiet resolve, Jung-bae continued, “Fight with us, so we can go home together.”
One by one, four men stepped up, their faces a mix of fear and determination. They grabbed their guns and ammo, preparing for the fight ahead. Gi-hun began instructing everyone to check their ammo, his eyes scanning the group for any sign of hesitation. Jung-bae handed out radios, the weight of their importance not lost on anyone.
“We’ll be using channel 7, the lucky number,” he announced. Everyone nodded in unison, following his instructions.
Gi-hun turned to Young-il, who was checking his ammo with meticulous care. “Thank you for earlier,” He said, his voice quieter than usual. Young-il didn’t look up, his focus still on the gun in his hands. “You can buy me soju when we get out,” he muttered, his voice gruff but carrying a faint hint of amusement.
You overheard their exchange and couldn’t resist the urge to tease. “What about me? Where’s my thanks?” You pushed the ammo back into its place, a smirk playing at your lips as both men glanced at you in surprise. Your chuckle filled the tense air, lightening the mood for a brief moment. “I’m just messing with you. Good luck out there, Captain. Get us out of here.”
Gi-hun smiled back at you, nodding before turning to check the rest of the team.
Meanwhile, Player 120, noticing Player 246 struggling with his ammo, stepped forward without hesitation. She called for everyone’s attention, and the group grew silent as she began to demonstrate how to operate the gun in her hands.
“This is the MP5, a submachine gun,” she said with a confident grin, her hands moving smoothly as she demonstrated how to load, unload, and switch the mode of the weapon.
You couldn’t help but watch her, fascinated by the fluidity of her movements. There was something almost hypnotic about the way she handled the weapon, and you felt a rush of excitement. You exchanged a glance with Young-il, catching his teasing look. Your eyes narrowed playfully in return.
“What?” you said, your voice light, but with a hint of a challenge. “It’s not every day you find another girl with the same interest as me.”
“Well, I didn’t say anything,” Young-il replied, his tone nonchalant, but there was a subtle spark of amusement in his eyes as he glanced at you. His lips quirked slightly, as if he was trying to suppress a smile but failing just a little.
You shot him a playful glare, your eyes narrowing in mock annoyance. "Just saying, it's rare to find someone who gets it." You crossed your arms, leaning back slightly as you met his gaze, your voice teasing but with a quiet warmth.
Young-il raised an eyebrow, his smirk lingering. "I get it, trust me," he said, his voice a lot softer.
As player 120 returned to her spot, You and Player 246, who seemed just as curious as you, looked at her in astonishment. “Where did you learn so much about guns?” 246 asked, his tone a mix of awe and genuine interest. You were itching to ask the same thing, and when Player 120 answered, you couldn’t help but grin.
“Ah, I was a sergeant first class in the ROK Special Forces,” she said, her tone casual but proud.
You practically beamed at her answer. “Wow,” you muttered, feeling a newfound respect for the woman who had so confidently shared her experience. You turned to the male beside you, ready to share your thoughts, but as your gaze flickered over to Young-il, you noticed something you hadn’t seen before—a distance in his expression, something off. The familiarity of his stoic face was still there, but there was a coldness behind it now that you couldn’t place. You felt your chest tighten, and for a moment, your confidence faltered. The words you wanted to say got stuck in your throat. Was there something bothering him?
You hesitated for a second before turning your attention back to Player 120, deciding not to press. You wanted to focus on the task ahead, but that nagging feeling in your chest refused to subside.
Gi-hun’s voice broke through the quiet, cutting through your thoughts. He pointed a revolver at the guard on the ground, demanding that he remove his mask. You felt your stomach turn as the young guard’s face was revealed. He looked no older than 25, his eyes wide with fear. Jung-bae’s reaction mirrored your own—he was visibly disturbed by the sight. He approached the guard, his voice filled with genuine concern. “Do your parents know what you’re doing?”
Before the guard could answer, Gi-hun cocked the revolver, silencing the room in an instant. The tension in the air was almost unbearable, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away.
His voice was low, almost a growl, but it carried with an unyielding edge. “Take us to your captain.” His words hung in the air, final and unwavering.
You followed the group, positioning yourself toward the back of the line just in front of Player 120. Before stepping through the door, you cast a glance back and saw Hanni and Jun-hee's worried faces. You offered them a warm, comforting smile, trying to reassure them, even if you weren’t sure how much comfort you could offer in that moment.
As you stepped through, you seized the opportunity to strike up a conversation with the other woman in the group.
“Hey, uh… my name’s [Lastname] [Name]. I just wanted to say, I really admire how fearless and knowledgeable you are with guns, especially for a girl. Not that it means much, I’m a girl too. It's just... the only other woman I knew who was into guns was my aunt,” you said, trying to keep the tone casual despite the nerves gnawing at you.
Player 120, Cho Hyun-ju, gave you a surprised but warm smile. “Nice to meet you, [Name]. I didn’t expect you to be so open, especially with how tense everything is.”
Before you could respond, the sound of Gi-hun’s revolver firing cut through the air. The loud shot echoed, silencing the recorded announcement urging everyone to return to their beds. “Down!” Gi-hun barked. Your eyes snapped up, spotting the movement of pink guards approaching from the corner.
"At one o'clock!" Gi-hun yelled, his voice urgent. You quickly ducked, instinctively reaching for your weapon. Hyun-ju, without hesitation, took cover and began firing.
“Cover me!” she shouted as she moved, using the new position to get a better shot. You returned fire, covering her as she positioned herself to pick off the guards. Every few moments, you switched between ducking for cover and popping up to fire. The rhythm became second nature, the cacophony of gunfire almost drowning out your thoughts. Bang, cover. Bang, cover.
“Cease fire!” Gi-hun ordered, his voice cutting through the chaos. You dropped behind cover, a sharp breath escaping you as the last of the guards fell. Gi-hun quickly checked in with everyone. You gave him a thumbs-up, signaling you were good.
"Alright, we move up," he said, his voice steady as always. You nodded, scanning your surroundings. Your eyes flicked to the CCTV camera near you. With a quick movement, you raised your gun and fired, taking out the lens. You saw Hyun-ju doing the same on her end. The two of you exchanged a brief nod, silently acknowledging the trust that had formed in the chaos.
Gi-hun led the group forward, signaling everyone to check corners as you moved.
Suddenly, you all halted as Gi-hun interrogated a guard. Gun to his face, the guard meekly pointed ahead. “The entrance to the management area is around the corner. The control room is right above it,” he said, fear evident in his voice.
“Move it then,” Gi-hun ordered, pushing the guard forward.
The guard hesitated, then started to reach for his mask.
“What are you doing?” Gi-hun demanded.
“I need to get my mask to bypass security,” the guard replied quickly. Gi-hun hesitated but allowed the guard to move, sensing no immediate threat.
But then, the unexpected happened. The guard froze, staring blankly ahead, paralyzed. Before you could react, a bullet pierced his skull, sending him crumpling to the ground. Chaos erupted immediately as the sound of rapid gunfire filled the air. Guards flooded in, and you scrambled for cover, adrenaline pumping through your veins.
The gunfire was relentless. You moved, ducking and shooting, ducking and shooting, covering every angle as you fought for your life. The intensity of the moment was blinding, but you couldn't afford to lose focus.
“I’ll go for the management area!” Gi-hun yelled, his voice cutting through the noise.
“Will you be able to find it? Should I come with you?” Young-il called after him, a note of concern in his voice.
“No,” Gi-hun responded sharply. “I’ll go with Jung-bae. You need to buy us some time.”
Young-il nodded, his gaze sharp. Gi-hun and Jung-bae moved off in one direction, leaving the rest of you to handle the remaining guards.
Noticing two of your friends had bolted, you immediately motioned for cover, weaving between Young-il and Dae-ho. You glanced at Young-il, asking where they were going and what their instructions were. Young-il quickly relayed their plan, his voice steady despite the urgency.
With a firm nod, you raised your gun, ready to provide the cover fire needed. The next few moments were a blur of bullets and evasive maneuvers as you helped keep the guards at bay. You could only hope that Gi-hun and Jung-bae would find what they needed before it was too late.
As you continued to fight off the guards, you noticed Dae-ho's frantic movements. He was wasting bullets, shooting wildly without even aiming. The gunfire echoed around you, but his shots were going wide, not hitting anyone. You could tell he was struggling.
When he ran out of ammo, you placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to steady him. “You good there, Dae-ho? Do you have some extra ammo?”
His eyes were wide, panicked, and full of fear. You could see the signs of someone who had experienced more than they should have, someone who had been pushed to the edge. His reaction was familiar to you—too familiar. He was struggling with some kind of trauma, possibly PTSD. Despite his fear of gunshots, he had still volunteered to fight, a true marine in spirit, but the weight of it was starting to break him.
Young-il noticed the exchange, his gaze shifting between you and Dae-ho. You handed Dae-ho some of your extra ammo, keeping your voice calm as you tried to keep him grounded. “You have to be resourceful. It’s okay to take a breather. I’m here to cover you.”
Dae-ho gulped, nodding shakily as he began to reload. You took the moment to shoot a few guards, hiding behind cover to keep your position steady.
“This isn’t getting us anywhere!” Player 047 shouted, his frustration evident. “Let’s follow them up to the upper level!”
You immediately shook your head, disagreeing with the idea. “We might get surrounded if you don’t have a plan! We need to wait for Gi-hun and Jung-bae’s signal!”
Young-il nodded, agreeing with your assessment. “Let’s wait until they find the control room.”
You were about to reposition when a bullet grazed your cheek, the sharp sting making you flinch. Blood seeped out, but thankfully it wasn’t anything fatal. Still, the pain was enough to remind you of how dangerous the situation was. You cursed under your breath as you pressed a hand to your face, trying to stop the bleeding.
Young-il noticed immediately. Without hesitation, he shot the guard who had fired at you, his sharp eyes never leaving your form as he checked on you. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah… thanks, ah shit, that hurts!” you winced, but you quickly resumed your position, peeking out to shoot, then ducking back into cover. Peak, shoot, hide. Peak, shoot, hide.
But then came the dreaded sound of an empty magazine clicking. Shit, you were out of ammo. You reached for your pockets, frantically searching for spare magazines when Hyun-ju’s voice rang through the hall. “Everyone, check your magazines!”
The tension in the air grew as you all checked your remaining rounds. It was bad for everyone—almost all of you were running on fumes, ammo running dangerously low. Even Young-il was out.
Just as you were about to panic, the radio crackled to life.
“Young-il, Dae-ho, [Name], can you hear me?” Jung-bae’s voice came through, sounding strained.
Young-il looked at you, signaling for you to cover while he responded. You nodded, raising your gun to keep the guards in check.
“Yeah, we hear you. What’s the status?” Young-il replied, his voice steady despite the chaos around you.
Jung-bae’s voice came back quickly. “I think we’re below the control room now! But we need backup and more ammo!”
“We’re running low on ammo too!” Young-il yelled.
“There should be spare magazines in the soldier’s pockets in our quarters. Go get them!” Gi-hun ordered.
“Got it!” Young-il responded immediately, turning to the group. “Did you hear that? They need backup! Four of us will go, and the rest will stay here. Join us once you’ve gotten more magazines.”
“Who wants to go with me?” Young-il asked, looking around. Without hesitation, you raised your hand, determination in your eyes. “I’ll go!”
Young-il looked at you with a troubled expression, about to argue, but before he could stop you, two other voices spoke up in agreement. Player 047 and Player 015 both volunteered to join, and Young-il, after a final look at your determined face, gave a resigned nod. “Alright, follow me.”
The four of you moved cautiously, alert as you made your way toward the stairs. The hallways were dimly lit, bathed in an eerie purple hue that made everything seem surreal, almost as though you were walking through some twisted version of reality. The stairs seemed endless, twisting upward in the haze of the purple glow.
Young-il gave the order for you three to go ahead of him, signaling you to take the lead. Without hesitation, you followed. What you didn’t notice however, was Young-il making eye contact with the CCTV camera, and silently ordering the guards—through hand signals—not to shoot you.
As you turned the corner, your eyes immediately locked onto Gi-hun and Jung-bae. Relief surged through you for a second before you remembered the danger. “Did you find the control room?” you asked, your voice a mix of urgency and hope.
“I think it's right up there, but we can’t go this way,” Gi-hun said, his voice tense. “I want you to find another way.”
“I did a scan of the layout here,” Young-il said, sounding calm, but there was a quiet determination in his voice. “I’m sure there’s a way to go around them.” He turned to you, his gaze steady but full of unspoken concern. “You stay here with Jung-bae and Gi-hun. You still have more ammo, so guard them, okay?”
You blinked, feeling your heart tighten in your chest. “What?” you asked, surprise creeping into your voice. “Are you sure about that?”
Before you could press further, Young-il’s voice softened but carried an edge of finality. “I want you guys to keep their focus on you. We’ll hit them from behind.” He paused, his gaze meeting yours for a long moment, his eyes betraying just how much this weighed on him. There was tenderness there in his look, desipte that, there was no room for argument.
You saw the worry in his eyes, but also something else—a protective instinct that almost made your heart skip a beat. You knew there was no way to change his mind so you just nodded, pushing down the tightness in your chest and grabbed your last magazine. “Take this, Young-il, and be safe.”
He hesitated for a moment, his eyes lingering on you. “You sure?”
You nodded firmly, despite the fear gnawing at your insides. “Dae-ho will be back with more.”
His hand brushed yours as he took the magazine from you, and for a split second, it felt like time slowed down. The touch, however brief, left a lingering warmth in your palm, and when his gaze lingered on you, there was an almost imperceptible softness in his expression that made your heart flutter, even if only for a moment.
With a final, decisive nod, Young-il, 047, and 015 ran as you peeked out from the wall, your pulse racing as you provided cover for him and his team. The tension in the air was palpable, and you could feel the familiar sting of adrenaline coursing through your veins.
After a while you heard Young-il’s voice crackle over the radio: “We found it. Start attacking and draw their attention. Then we will hit them from behind.” Gi-hun’s voice followed shortly after, giving you the go signal. There was no turning back now.
Your grip on the gun tightened, and as you moved into position, you didn’t hesitate. With one last glance at Gi-hun and Jung-bae, you stepped out from your cover and opened fire, the rapid succession of shots echoing off the walls. You kept your aim steady, focusing on their movements, keeping them distracted. Each shot rang out, but the weight of the situation pressed heavily on you—your mind was focused, but there was a constant undercurrent of worry, the feeling that you were too far from where you needed to be.
It had been a few minutes since you saw Young-il. The soldiers were still there, and a tightness formed in your chest. Something wasn’t right. You pushed the thought away, staying focused on the fight at hand, but you couldn’t ignore the nagging worry. Every time the radio buzzed, your heart skipped a beat, hoping to hear something from him.
And then, your prayers were answered. Hope rushed through as your radio buzzed to life. However, everything came crashing down when heard his voice. Weak. “Gi-hun… Jung-bae… [Name]… I’m sorry…”
Your stomach dropped. You could barely breathe as the world seemed to slow around you. You grabbed for your radio with shaking hands, putting it up to your mouth as your heart raced. “S-stay where you are, Young-il. I’m coming.” The words barely left your mouth before you were already running, ignoring the shouts from Gi-hun and Jung-bae as you pushed forward.
Your feet pounded against the ground as you ran, the urgency flooding your veins. You couldn’t think. Your focus was a single thought—get to him, and get to him now. The radio fell silent as it slipped off your hands, and you were left with nothing but the sound of your breathing and your footsteps echoing in the halls.
You didn’t want to believe it. You didn’t want to accept it. But as the minutes passed, and the distance between you and your goal seemed endless, something inside you shifted. Desperation took hold of you, and with each step, it felt like you were running out of time. Tears blurred your vision, and you wiped your eyes, but the fear that gripped you didn’t let up.
You stumbled, tripping over your own feet, the exhaustion starting to catch up with you. Your mind screamed at you to keep going, but your body couldn’t take it. You hit the ground, scraping your palms. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. You needed to find him.
And then, you saw it. A flash of white. A shoe, just barely visible around the corner. Your heart skipped a beat. Ignoring the pain, you propped yourself up, the desperation pushing you forward.
You ran toward it, praying, hoping—maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance. But as you turned the corner, everything seemed to stop. A sudden thud behind you—the sound of heavy footsteps, too close. You spun around just in time to see a black-clad guard standing before you.
Instinct kicked in. You raised your gun, fingers wrapped tightly around the grip, your eyes locking on the target. You squeezed the trigger, but instead of the sharp report of a shot, the only sound was the click of an empty chamber. Panic surged in your chest. You were out of ammo.
Before you could react, the guard lunged forward, and with brutal precision, he slammed the barrel of his gun into your face. The impact was jarring, sending you stumbling back, your vision spinning and your body fighting to stay upright. Blood poured from your nose, warm and thick, but you had no strength left to retaliate. The world blurred as your knees gave way beneath you, and you collapsed to the floor, the darkness swallowing you whole.
The last thing you heard was the guard’s voice, distant and cold, as he spoke into his radio: “I have Player 132.”
And then, the world went silent.
“Good.” In-ho’s voice replied, “bring her to where I am.”
As Jung-bae and Gi-hun knelt with their arms behind their heads, In-ho, wearing his uniform, walked down to greet them.
“Player 456,” he said, voice masked. “Did you have fun playing hero?”
Gi-hun looked up at the familiar voice, anger flashing across his face. Before he could respond, he watched as his enemy gestured to the black-clad guard to step forward. As the guard approached, both Jung-bae and Gi-hun’s eyes went wide. In the guard's hands was you, battered and bruised, unconscious and lifeless. Blood soaked your clothes, and your head hung limply. The guard dropped you unceremoniously to the ground. Your body hit the floor with a sickening thud, and they couldn’t look any longer, their hearts shattering at the sight. Despite only meeting each other for a short period of time, you had felt like a little sister to them, someone who had always been there, and now you were being discarded as though you meant nothing.
In-ho, unfazed, pulled out his Deagle and aimed it at your motionless body. A surge of anger flooded Gi-hun, but he was too late to stop what was happening. He had helped you through so much, and now, despite everything, he couldn’t even protect you.
“Look closely,” In-ho’s voice cut through the silence, “at the consequences of your little hero game.” Before turning the gun towards Jung-bae.
Jung-bae, his face pale with fear, barely managed to speak, his voice trembling, “Gi-hun—”
A loud bang echoed through the room, and Jung-bae’s body crumpled to the floor, lifeless, blood pooling around him.
“No!” Gi-hun screamed, unable to contain his grief. He scrambled over to Jung-bae’s body, pulling him close. His eyes then flicked to yours, and he rushed to hold you too, calling out your name in agony. “No, please...”
He tried to charge toward the masked man, his anger and desperation overpowering him, but the guards quickly tackled him, pinning him down. The sound of his cries filled the room, but none of the guards moved to stop it. He wept for both you and Jung-bae, unable to process the loss.
In-ho stood watching with cold indifference, finding satisfaction in Gi-hun’s torment. With a simple gesture of his hand, he commanded the guards to knock Gi-hun out. As the guards subdued him, In-ho turned his attention to the aftermath.
“Clean up this mess,” he ordered. The guards began clearing away the bodies, but when they reached for you, In-ho stopped them. “Leave her be.”
Once the area was cleared, In-ho instructed everyone to leave, and the guards filed out. Alone in hallway, he looked down at your peaceful face, his expression softening for a moment. He removed his glove and gently wiped the blood from your cheek.
The action seemed to rouse something in you, as your eyes fluttered open. Disoriented, you blinked, taking in the unfamiliar sight of black shoes in front of you. Your senses kicked in immediately, and with quick reflexes, you grabbed the revolver hidden beneath your shirt and aimed it at the figure in front of you.
Your finger squeezed the trigger, but instead of the expected thud of a body dropping, you heard the sharp crack of shattering glass. The CCTV camera behind the masked figure had been destroyed. The sound echoed, and for a brief moment, everything paused.
In-ho didn’t flinch. His gaze never left you, cold and unwavering. You, on the other hand, stood frozen, unable to process what had just happened. The gun in your hand felt foreign, heavy. The glass that scattered across the floor seemed to mock you—your aim had been off. You hadn’t meant to miss. But what had you really aimed for? The camera? Or something else?
His posture remained unchanged. Silent. Watching. Calculating. He didn’t seem angry or pleased. He was just... waiting.
The silence pressed down on you, suffocating. Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked between the broken camera and him. You weren’t sure what you expected—more movement, an immediate response, or maybe... nothing at all. The question lingered in the air, but you couldn’t bring yourself to ask it. You were waiting, too. Waiting for the next move.
Your body tensed. Was this the end? After all this was the enemy Gi-hun told you about. Every thought in your head felt like it was colliding, spinning in a storm. Taking a step back, your body reacts before your mind could catch up. What was he going to do? Was he still going to kill you?
Suddenly, the words you hadn’t even realized you were thinking slipped out, barely a whisper. “W-what do you want?” The sound of your voice startled you, hoarse and raw from everything leading up to this point.
“Answer me!”
He didn’t answer, he simply extended his arm, his palm open. A gesture. A question. It felt like he was waiting for something more than just your answer—maybe a reaction, maybe a choice. But you didn’t know if there was even one left to make.
The silence stretched out, thick and heavy. Your pulse thudded in your ears, drowning out everything else. And then, for the briefest of moments, everything cleared. A strange, unsettling calm swept over you. The fear, the anxiety—it all faded, replaced by something deeper, darker. You were done running. Done fighting. It was all too much.
Without thinking, your hand lowered, the revolver slipping from the aim you had kept steady for so long. Slowly, almost in slow motion, you brought the gun to your temple. Your breath hitched, shallow and ragged, but the world around you felt distant, quieter.
It wasn’t a decision. It was a release. A way to escape all of it.
But just as you gathered the strength to pull the trigger, you heard a slight sound. The faintest of movements. The sound of unclasping. You blinked, dazed, as something shifted in the air.
His hand lowered.
And then, with slow, deliberate motion, he removed his mask.
Your heart stopped.
For a moment, everything else ceased to exist. The room, the tension, the gun still pressed against your temple—everything blurred. The world shifted.
You stared at him, unable to process what you were seeing. The face that had once been a stranger now felt... familiar. But it wasn’t supposed to be him. It couldn’t be. The man standing in front of you wasn’t the same one who had fought beside you, who had once shared your vision, your cause. No, this wasn’t him.
And yet... it was.
"...Young-il?"
The name escaped your lips like a memory you weren’t sure you wanted to reclaim. He didn’t answer. He just raised his hand again, his gesture the same, his eyes locked on yours.
It wasn’t just a question—it was an invitation.
You stared at his outstretched hand, the choice heavy in the air. The revolver trembled in your grip.
This time, the decision was yours to make.
#wqnsho.writes#squid game#squid game x reader#squid game x you#squid game fanfic#frontman x reader#hwang in ho x reader#player 001 x reader#in ho x reader#oneshot
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(sorry in advance for the more personal ask, you're the most intelligent person i know of when it comes to these things)
genuinely, how are we supposed to find the strength to go on? it feels like capitalism has won. only a few decades ago my country was openly and proudly socialist, and now we're nothing but an american military base with an economy. everything's been privatised, the unions are broken, the people are starving, and we keep voting for more of this! people are gleefully begging for yet more exploitation! sometimes it feels there's not a drop of class consciousness to be found in the entire country, and that it's pointless to even hope for change. how can i stay sane?
The class struggle is not a team sport which either side can win or lose. It is a historical and economic process, one that's inevitable. As long as capitalism exists, there will be a social majority of workers it must exploit, alienation will still happen, and a portion of these workers will be aware of this fact. The class struggle is also a long process, one that, most of the time, is imperceptible to the individual in physical and time scale. Only sometimes, it accelerates to dizzying speeds and the conditions necessary for taking power are met. We can talk about victories and defeats, but we can't lose sight of the fact that those "only" are points in time, momentaneous advances or retreats in the process that is the class struggle, but they never mean the paralization of this process.
We can only really talk about the bourgeoisie taking power and creating the first properly capitalist states in the late 18th century and early 19th, but the bourgeoisie had lead or taken part in attempts at or glimpes of revolution as far back as the early 16th century. The bourgeoisie never really had an unifying theory of the class struggle, most were never really fully conscious of it. But they still eventually took power, once the development of the national economies advanced so far that it forced the replacement of the feudal mode of production, the bourgeois revolutions became inevitable. Marx and Engels only ever saw one real attempt at the proletariat taking power, in the Paris Commune of 1871, but it only ever lasted a few months. They both were long dead when the first actually (relatively) long-lasting instance of the proletariat in power broke the oppressor classes' veneer of invincibility.
When Marxists talk of inevitability it is not in a conspiratorial manner, or an expression of satisfied optimism, we never mean that "one day the capitalists will get what's coming to them", in a vague way. We mean that, only if communists continue to work towards the revolutionary organization of our class, is a complete overthrow of capitalism inevitable. We should all do an exercise is historical perspective when it comes to analyzing progress, take the Marx and Engels example from the previous paragraph, they never got to see an effective application of their theories. Class consciousness will fluctuate continuously, it always has. The bolshevik party in 1913 had nothing to do with the party that lead the October Revolution, and 8 years after the defeat of the 1905 revolution, I bet many felt like their work was hopeless. My point is that, while the borders of the Communist Party may shrink, grow, or even disappear, and while we might be savagely oppressed, no system of oppression has ever lasted forever.
When it comes to revolutions, there are objective and subjective conditions. The objective we can never control; it's the stability of capitalism, the characteristics of its suprastructure, if there is a crisis or not. The subjective is what's under our control; our own work as communists, the state of the revolutionary party, the degree of influence of communists at the core of the working class. These two sets of conditions interact with one another, with the objective conditions influencing the possibility of development of the subjective conditions much more than the reverse. What makes you hopeless is in part the objective conditions. Capitalism is quite stable right now (though not as much as it ever seems), and, for now, we can't do much about it, because the subjective conditions, the other part of your homelessness, are also very delayed. But these we do have control over, at first very little, but as they improve, the control we have over them also increases. Essentially, friend, all we can do is prepare our class, do our best to gain more workers to our cause, bit by bit, so that once capitalism shows one of its cracks, we can be ready to pry those cracks open and bust the whole system. The Russian soldiers in WW1 were already discontent when the bolsheviks began to agitate up to the trenches, Mao's guerrillas grew to an army taking advantage of the deep fragmentation China suffered throughout the first half of the century, etc.
Once again, class struggle is not a straight line that we move in two directions. It is a complex space. The overthrow of the USSR was a very profound blow to revolutionary organizations all around the world, of course, but the state of communism in general in 1995 was still in a much better position than it was merely 90 years prior. Every defeat also sharpens the tactics and strategies we use. Eastern Europe (where I assume you're from) did use to be socialist, and those worker's states were overthrown. But you are still in a better position than a communist in the interwar period, facing borderline fascistic dictatorship and a future of Nazi-Fascist occupation. They did not have any precedent or much practical experience to learn from, but you do. Every day that we delay work, even in the most hopeless of contexts, is a day more that our grandchildren will have to bear in capitalism, and a day more they're deprived of true freedom and self-government
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Wheel of Monsters
Image © @bowelfly
[April Fools! Like previous April Fools' monsters I've done, this is intended to be fully usable at table, just... weird. Most of my previous April Fools monsters have been pop culture references, and this one is, just a little slantwise. The expression "wheel of monsters" has been rattling around my head for years, inspired by game shows and game show parodies like Wheel of the Worst. The monsters its summons pulls from by default are mostly ones on the Codex, but I've included guidelines on how to customize it if you don't want to look up a whole bunch of bespoke stat blocks (assuming, of course, anyone actually uses this abomination at table).]
Wheel of Monsters CR 15 CE Aberration This thing is a quadruped with a long tail and clawed limbs, but its semblance to sane life ends there. Instead of a head, it has a vertically oriented dial with twelve facets, each with a different combination of eyes, teeth and strange glyphs. A single eye sits in the center of the wheel atop the axle. Spikes protrude forward from the edge of the wheel, plucked by a stinger at the end of a long tail. Said tail also has a strange flap on it that has the appearance of a sign, or possibly scoreboard.
The wheel of monsters is a strange tool in the service of the Dominion of the Black. They were invented by the daelkyr Harsanash, whose interests lie in the role that chance events play in increasing entropy and the downfall of complex systems. The wheels of monsters exploit chance by generating random spells and summoning random monsters, drawn from distant worlds under Dominion control or the depths of the Dimension of Dream. These far-flung summons have already had disastrous effects, as now both the quori and beholders know about Golarion and its corner of space, and gaze upon it with envious eyes.
Despite their grotesque appearances, wheels of monsters are quite intelligent—geniuses by the standards of humanoids. They tend to have something of a split personality; obsequious and loyal to higher ranking Dominion creatures, even less powerful ones, but snide and condescending to most other lifeforms. Most wheels of monsters have a fondness for cracking jokes and giving color commentary during combat. All of its many mouths are capable of speech, and it can alter the pattern and coloration on its tail flap with incredible precision in order to spell out words in any language it knows. A common behavior is to speak primarily through one mouth, with an unctuous tone, while making sounds like crowd noises and cheers with its other maws.
A wheel of monsters is usually on the move in combat, stalking from place to place in order to better make use of their spells. They are excellent climbers and have at least the possibility of flight through their random spellcasting, and so prefer to have a birds-eye view of the action in order to better place monsters or effects. A wheel of monsters keeps its tactics flexible, but almost always summons a monstrous minion as soon as it can to engage foes. In melee, they can sting with their plectrum tails, inducing confusion in foes, and grab with their claws. They prefer to split those attacks up, stinging enemies to disrupt their tactics and then focusing the bulk of their violence on a single target. If a wheel of monsters has a foe grabbed, it lowers its spiked face on top of their victim and spin it, tearing with all of its spikes and teeth simultaneously. When fighting on their own terms, wheels of monsters will gladly flee a losing fight, but gladly sacrifice their lives in order to promote the objectives of their superiors.
Appropriately enough for a creature of weaponized chance, different wheels of monsters may be able to call forth different spells or summons by spinning their wheels. In order to adjust the wheel of monsters’ spellcasting spin, replace some or all of the spells with spells of the appropriate level. A wheel of monsters can call upon two spells of each level from 1st to 6th. In order to adjust the wheel of monsters’ summoning spin, replace some or all of the monsters with monsters of the appropriate challenge rating. A wheel of monsters can summon two monsters of each CR between 8 and 13.
Wheel of Monsters CR 15 XP 51,200 CE Large aberration Init +8; Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, Perception +27
Defense AC 29, touch 17, flat-footed 24 (-1 size, +4 Dex, +1 dodge, +3 luck, +13 natural) hp 225 (18d8+144) Fort +17, Ref +16, Will +16 Immune curses, disease, poison Defensive Abilities fortune’s favor
Offense Speed 40 ft., climb 30 ft. Melee 2 claws +19 (1d8+7 plus grab), sting +19 (2d6+7 plus confusion) Space 10 ft.; Reach 5 ft. (10 ft. with sting) Special Attacks rake (bite, 4d8+7), spellcasting spin, summoning spin
Statistics Str 24, Dex 19, Con 27, Int 20, Wis 14, Cha 21 Base Atk +13; CMB +21 (+25 grapple); CMD 36 (40 vs. trip) Feats Combat Expertise, Combat Reflexes, Dodge, Improved Initiative, Lightning Reflexes, Mobility, Nimble Moves, Spring Attack, Whirlwind Attack Skills Acrobatics +25 (+29 jumping), Bluff +17, Climb +30, Fly +11, Intimidate +20, Knowledge (arcana, planes) +23, Knowledge (dungeoneering) +26, Perception +27, Spellcraft +20, Stealth +18; Racial Modifiers +4 Perception Languages Abyssal, Aklo, Common, Protean, Undercommon, telepathy 100 ft. SQ no breath
Ecology Environment any land or underground Organization solitary Treasure standard
Special Abilities Confusion (Su) A creature stung by a wheel of monsters must succeed a DC 24 Will save or be confused, as per the spell, for 1 minute. If the confused creature gets the “act normally” result two turns in a row, the effect ends early. This is a mind-influencing compulsion effect, and the save DC is Charisma based. Fortune’s Favor (Su) A wheel of monsters has a +3 luck bonus to its AC and to its saving throws. Spellcasting Spin (Su) At will as a standard action, a wheel of monsters can spin its wheel to cast a random spell. These function as the spell cast at CL 15th, except that it does not provoke attacks of opportunity and the save DC for all of these abilities, if applicable, is DC 24. The save DC is Charisma based. The wheel of monsters can choose the target or area of the spell as normal for any legal target after determining the spell cast. Roll a d12 to determine the spell cast each time the wheel of monsters uses this ability 1. magic missile 2. mage armor 3. blur 4. scorching ray 5. fly 6. lightning bolt (Reflex half) 7. enervation 8. fire shield 9. cone of cold (Reflex half) 10. spell resistance 11. disintegrate (Fortitude partial) 12. globe of invulnerability Summoning Spin (Su) As a standard action, a wheel of monsters may spin its wheel to summon a random monster from the following table. Monsters summoned in this fashion appear within 60 feet of the wheel of monsters and remain for 15 minutes or until dismissed. A wheel of monsters can use this ability as many times per day as 3 + its Charisma modifier (8/day for an average specimen), but can have no more than one monster summoned at a time through this method. Roll a d12 to determine the monster summoned each time the wheel of monsters uses this ability: 1. animate dream 2. neh-thalggu 3. aros 4. quori, hashalaq 5. rukanyr 6. yad-pollom 7. p’nahki 8. quori, du’ulora 9. garsonite 10. gogiteth 11. beholder 12. ectodactyl
#pathfinder 1e#pathfinder rpg#d&d#april fools#wheel of monsters#aberration#dominion of the black#original art#bowelfly#who knocked it out of the park with this one
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Settled Down
Azriel x Reader
For @sjmxreaderweek
Sjmxreader 2025 Masterlist
Day 6 - Adventure/Home
Summary: The scariest spies the Night Court had ever had, you and your mate, brutal, sadistic and brought to your knees by the nonsensical babbling of your little twins.
Cw:

The brightly lit room reverberated with the eerie silence that always preceded your sessions. Your imposing figures, clad in a black blouse and skirt and adorned with menacing accessories, wings flared out dangerously as you looked down at your little troublemakers.
Your mate, notorious for his cold, calculating gaze, leaned against the ornate marble fireplace, arms crossed over his broad chest. His piercing hazel eyes bore into the tiny souls before him, as if searching for some hidden weakness to exploit. Beside him, you stood rigid, your jaw clenched.
The twins, oblivious to the danger their mommy and daddy posed, gurgled and cooed playfully. Keeping each other entertained by baby talk.
"Did you. Eat. The last piece of... The caramel fruit pudding?" You asked them, eyes narrowed on their hands dipped in said dessert.
"No mommy," They replied simultaneously, lie. A mischievous glint sparkled in the twins' eyes as they continued their innocent charade, sticky fingers leaving telltale smudges on their baby cheeks. Their laughter tinkled through the air like delicate crystal, a stark contrast to the ominous atmosphere surrounding their parents.
"Oh so you won't fess up?" Azriel came forward, his hands going in the pockets of his leathers, "Not even for this!?" He pulled out a tiny bat plushie, smiling innocently.
"Look who wants to play!" You cooed, as your mate waved the adorable plush toy enticingly in front of the giggling twins, little Rhys, as dubbed by the uncle who had bought them it. The babies squealed with delight, reaching out small hands to grasp the offered gift.
As they snuggled the soft bat, their smiles faltered slightly when Azriel's expression turned stern once more. "Now, let's try again, shall we? Who ate the pudding?"
The twins exchanged a nervous glance, then pointed accusingly at each other. "He did!" "No, she did!" They chorused, voices rising in pitch.
Azriel chuckled darkly, clearly amused by their antics. "Well well, looks like we have two little liars on our hands." He reached out and plucked the bat plushie from their grasp, tucking it away behind his back.
"You know the punishment for dishonesty around here," You added, voice low and warning. The twins' wide, fearful eyes darted between your imposing forms, realising too late the gravity of their actions.
With a sudden burst of speed, Azriel swooped down, kneeling in front of them, scared hands tickling their soft bodies. The twins shrieked in surprise and delight as Azriel's nimble fingers danced across their sensitive skin, sending shivers down their spines. Their initial fear melted away, replaced by giggles and squirms of enjoyment.
"Oh no you don't!" You scolded, striding over to pull Azriel off the floor by the collar of his shirt. He let out a surprised yelp as he was hauled upright, looking sheepish. "We're not letting you get them all distracted with cute tactics."
Azriel smirked, rubbing the back of his neck. "What, and miss out on the fun? It's hard to stay mad when they look this adorable."
"We're adorable mommy," Lisa, the younger twin, looked up at you with her wide eyes, bottom lip pulling out.
In response to her pout, you scooped up the little one, cradling her against your chest. Her weight was barely noticeable against your sturdy frame. You could feel the warmth radiating from her tiny body as she nuzzled into your neck, seeking comfort.
Lisa's brother, Rowan, wiggled free from Azriel's grasp and scampered over to join his sibling in your embrace. The pair clung to you like limpets, their faces pressed into your shoulder as they sucked in your comforting scent.
"Mmmph... Mommy," They murmured in unison, their breath hot against your skin. You stroked their soft hair, marvelling at how these miniatures of yourselves could evoke such strong emotions within you, babbling about how much they loved you, speaking in baby talk up at you, most of what you heard was 'Oo Aaa'.
"Aww, look at you three," Azriel cooed, smiling, watching you and your kids. "All attached at the hip."
You sat back down as your twins snuggled into you. In their young years, they had learned that if they softened up their mommy, they could get away with anything, "I scare everyone in a ten mile radius to me..."
"Yeah, well, you've got quite the reputation to uphold," He teased, his tone laced with affection. "Though I think it's safe to say those two have already stolen every heart in the house, including yours."
You couldn't help but smile at his words, the truth in them undeniable. Despite the intimidating aura you both projected, there was no denying the hold your children had over you. They were your world, your everything, and you would move mountains to keep them safe and happy.
"I suppose you're right," You conceded, gently rocking the twins in your lap. "They've managed to tame the big bad spies of Night Court pretty easily, haven't they?"
The twins, sensing the shift in mood, lifted their heads from your chest to grin up at you both. Their chubby cheeks dimpled adorably as they babbled excitedly about something only they understood.
"Still. There needs to be punishment." You said with a stern look, reaching into the pockets of your blouse, you pulled out the threatening weapon, and the twins yelped, standing on your thighs as they looked at the frightening item you had in your pocket all along, "Time for studying, fun over, kiddos."
Azriel chuckled, shaking his head in amusement as the twins' eyes widened in terror at the sight of the feared pencil, meant for school work, and given that they had just started school, earlier than most as Illyrians did, they hated it.
The twins nodded at their punishment vigorously, still clinging to you as they attempted to hide behind your neck from the dreaded writing utensil. You smiled indulgently, knowing full well their theatrics only served to heighten the anticipation and drama.
Azriel came to grab the twins to carry them to their tables for the impending lesson. As he lifted them from your lap, they clung to him desperately, burying their faces in his chest.
"Nooooo! We wanna stay wif mommy!" They wailed, kicking their legs in protest.
"Don't worry, little ones," Azriel soothed, carrying them to the study area. "Mommy will be right here, keeping a close eye on us while we learn."
Once settled at their respective desks, the twins pouted, crossing their arms and turning their backs to face you. Their postures exuded petulance, but the corners of their mouths twitched with suppressed smiles, betraying their true feelings.
You watched them get busy with their little booklets as you poured yourself a glass of wine, dropping down beside Azriel, "They're studying and happy. Oh, another day of great parenting."
Azriel chuckled, leaning back in his chair and draping an arm around your shoulders. "Indeed, a job well done. Though I think we should give ourselves extra credit for enduring their tantrums."
You rolled your eyes playfully, sipping your wine. "Easy for you to say, Mr. 'Distract Them with Cute Tactics' over there."
Azriel smirked, running a hand through his messy raven locks. "Hey, whatever works, right? Besides, it's not like we didn't earn those sweet, cuddly moments afterwards."
You couldn't argue with that logic, and a contented sigh escaped your lips as memories of the twins' earlier affection flooded your mind. Azriel squeezed your shoulder, sensing your relaxed state.
"So, now that the chaos has subsided, what do you say we indulge in some quality time together?" He suggested, his voice low and husky with promise. "Maybe cuddle a while, watch the stars, just the two of us?"
The prospect of unwinding and reconnecting with your partner after a long day of parenting appealed greatly to you. You set your wine glass aside and turned to face Azriel fully, a soft smile playing on your lips. "The only stars I want to watch are right there..." You whispered, turning your head to look at your kids studying. "Do... Do you think this is how Rhys' mother felt watching us...? I never thought myself as meternal."
Azriel's expression turned contemplative as he considered your question. He reached out to gently stroke your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your lower lip. "Rhys' mom was a remarkable female, lovely. Strong, fierce, yet incredibly nurturing and loving. I think she'd be proud to see the wonderful mother you've become."
"I wanna go stab someone..." You whispered, resting your head in his thighs, "I've gotten too mushy."
Azriel laughed softly, his warm hand caressing your hair as you nestled against him. "Don't worry, love. You can always go stabbing later. For now, let's just enjoy?"
With that, Azriel leaned down to capture your lips in a tender, lingering kiss. As you melted into his embrace, the worries of parenthood momentarily faded away, replaced by the comforting sensation of your mate's love and support.
As the kiss deepened, Azriel's free hand slid down to cup your chin, tilting your face upwards to meet his increasing passion. His tongue danced with yours, exploring the depths of your mouth with a hunger that matched the growing ache in your core.
Breaking the kiss, Azriel's heated gaze locked onto yours, his pupils dilated with desire. "You're incredible, you know that?" He breathed, his voice rough with emotion. "My queen, my everything."
You smiled up at him, your own eyes shining with adoration. "And you're mine," you whispered back, before capturing his lips once more in a searing kiss filled with years of love and longing. Lost in the intoxicating embrace, the world outside receded, leaving only the two of you entwined in your devotion.

{General taglist- @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-angst @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith @velarisnightsky444 @minnieoo @mellowmusings @daughterofthemoons-stuff @tele86 @thelov3lybookworm @romanticatheartt @inkedinshadows}
{Week Taglist - @readinf @thorins-queen-of-erebor}
#sjmxreaderweek2025#acotar#acotar series#acomaf#acosf#acowar#azriel acomaf#acotar azriel#azriel acotar#azriel shadowsinger#azriel#azriel x y/n#azriel x you#azriel x reader#azriel fluff#azriel fanfiction#azriel fanfic#azriel fic
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Swapping Research - Part 2
Read part 1 here Read part 3 here
The first shower was the worst. Marcus stood frozen in Tyler's bathroom, avoiding the mirror, peeling off unfamiliar workout clothes from an unfamiliar sweaty body. The smell, a mix of cheap deodorant and Tyler's sweat, was inescapable. He kept his eyes fixed on the ceiling as he stepped under the water, trying to ignore the strange dimensions of his new form. Longer legs, broader shoulders, muscles that shifted differently beneath the skin.
Impossible not to touch, though. Impossible not to feel. Every movement reminded him he was piloting someone else's flesh. Soaping Tyler's body almost felt like touching someone else with all that thick hair and unfamiliar mass.
After, he studied Tyler's face in the mirror (the slight chip in the front tooth, the stubble that grew…). He tried a smile and flinched at how wrong it looked, how the expressions didn't match the musculature.
He wanted to believe that from looking behind Tyler's eyes you could still tell it was Marcus in the pilot seat. But those eye resembled nothing other than Tyler's Brown eyes.
His phone, Tyler's phone, buzzed with notifications. Basketball practice in an hour. A text from someone named Jas with just a winky face. Three missed calls from "Dad."
"Shit," Marcus muttered, the curse sounding natural in Tyler's voice. His own parents emailed weekly for updates. Tyler's father seemed to be calling multiple times daily.
The phone rang again. Dad.
"Hey," Marcus answered cautiously.
"You watch the Gonzaga vid I sent? Their defense has that weak spot on the baseline when they double-team. You need to exploit that tomorrow."
"Uh, yeah. I saw that."
"Don't 'uh yeah' me. This is your future, Tyler. Those scouts won't come back if you play like you did last time."
Marcus held the phone away from his ear, understanding blooming about Tyler's desperate academic measures.
"I'll work on it," Marcus said.
A heavy sigh. "Just don't throw away everything we've built."
---
In Organic Chemistry, Marcus was caught off-guard when he saw Tyler sitting at his desk. Realizing what he needs to do, he sat at Tyler's assigned desk, hyperaware of how differently people treated this body. Girls smiled, guys nodded in recognition. The professor barely glanced at him. The invisibility Marcus had as a serious student was replaced by a strange social spotlight that felt simultaneously flattering and exhausting.
The professor started the exam. Marcus began working through complex molecular mechanisms with ease. Tyler's hand felt clumsy gripping the pencil, but the knowledge remained intact, for now. He finished early and noticed people glancing at him with surprise.
Outside after the test, a teammate clapped him on the shoulder. "Yo, Reeves, we're grabbing lunch before practice. You coming?"
The old Marcus would have declined, retreated to the library. But something in Tyler's body responded differently. A pull toward social connection, a need for movement and interaction rather than quiet study.
"Yeah," he heard himself say. "I'll come."
---
Later on, Tyler sat in Marcus's Advanced Physiology class, experiencing an entirely different reality. For the first time in his life, the professor's words didn't scramble in his mind. He took notes, each letter staying exactly where he placed it on the page. He raised his hand to answer questions, the information flowing effortlessly.
The professor stopped him after class. "Excellent contributions today, Marcus. That connection was insightful."
Tyler felt a rush of pleasure he never knew he could have. "Thank you, sir."
In the library afterward, Tyler opened Marcus's planner and studied the color-coded schedule. Med school interview prep sessions. Study blocks. A family video call on Sunday. He ran his fingers over the neat handwriting, experiencing the peculiar sensation of being organized from the outside in, rather than constantly fighting his own brain.
He took out his phone, Marcus's phone, and called Alex.
"Any adverse effects?" she answered without greeting.
"It's incredible," Tyler whispered. "I can read anything. First try. No reversals, no swimming words. Alex, I never knew it could be like this."
"The transfer is temporary," she reminded him. "Don't get too attached."
Tyler touched the textbook in front of him, the words remaining stable on the page. "Yeah," he said. "Temporary."
He hung up and noticed Marcus had scheduled a meeting with his academic advisor for tomorrow. Tyler had his own advisor meeting—one that would determine his academic probation status.
After a moment's hesitation, he rescheduled both to a later date.
---
Basketball practice was a nightmare. Marcus had played casually in high school, but navigating a collegiate practice in Tyler's body was like being thrown into a professional orchestration with no knowledge of the music.
"Reeves! Where's your head today?" Coach Barrett shouted when Marcus missed an obvious pass. "Run it again!"
The team's offensive sequence required multiple cuts and screens that Marcus couldn't anticipate. Tyler's body knew where to go. He could feel the muscle memory trying to take over. But his conscious mind couldn't surrender control.
Most disturbing was the pain in Tyler's right knee, a persistent ache that worsened with each cut and jump. In the locker room afterward, Marcus discovered a carefully hidden brace and prescription anti-inflammatories in Tyler's bag.
Tyler had never mentioned any injury.
---
Three days had passed. Marcus paced Tyler's apartment, anxiety building. The 24-hour deadline had come and gone with Tyler making excuses: Alex needed more data, one more day would help their understanding, the neural pathways needed to stabilize.
Worse than the delay was how Marcus's sense of self had begun to blur. He'd catch himself speaking with Tyler's inflections, laughing at jokes he normally wouldn't understand, craving foods Tyler's body was accustomed to. Last night he'd dreamed in Tyler's memories—fractured images of a childhood basketball court and a father shouting at him.
His phone buzzed. A text from Alex: Meet at lab at 7.
When Marcus arrived, Tyler was already there, wearing Marcus's body like he'd been born to it. The sight still caused a visceral wrongness, watching his body move with someone else's mannerisms.
"You missed another check-in," Marcus said. "And you canceled my medical school interview prep session."
"Rescheduled," Tyler corrected, sitting with a straight-backed posture Marcus recognized as his own. "This was more important. Alex is seeing unprecedented neural adaptation. Our minds are actually reshaping our borrowed brains."
"That's not comforting," Marcus snapped. "We had an agreement. Twenty-four hours."
"I needed more time," Tyler said quietly. "You don't understand what this is like for me."
"And my interview? It's in four days."
"I'll handle it."
"You'll—" Marcus stared. "No. Absolutely not. We're switching back. Now."
Tyler exchanged a look with Alex. Something passed between them that sent a chill through Marcus.
"What did you do?" Marcus demanded.
Tyler sighed. "I asked Alex to modify the procedure."
"Modify how?"
"The reversal process is more complex than anticipated," Alex interjected, not meeting his eyes. "The neural pathways have begun permanent adaptation."
"Permanent?" Panic surged through Marcus, his heart—Tyler's heart—hammering. "That wasn't the deal. You promised twenty-four hours!"
"I was drowning," Tyler said, Marcus's voice cracking with emotion. "Every day. Words jumbling, professors thinking I'm stupid or lazy. Do you know what it's like to have the answers trapped in your head while everyone looks at you like you're worthless?"
"So you're stealing my life? My future?"
"I'm borrowing it," Tyler insisted. "Just until after the semester. Then we'll figure something out."
Marcus looked between them, realization dawning. "You never intended to switch back, did you?"
The silence was his answer.
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ART THE CLOWN (REALISTIC) KISS HEADCANNON 💋🤡
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As Art the Clown closes in for the kill, you grab him unexpectedly and kiss him, leaving him momentarily stunned and confused by your boldness.
————————————————————————————————————-
As Art the Clown hunts you through the shadowy hallways, he’s clearly savoring every bit of fear he’s drawing out, delighting in how his silent pursuit unsettles you. His exaggerated movements, twisted expressions, and absolute silence create an atmosphere thick with dread. Art thrives on this—a game of predator and prey, each second intensifying his sadistic pleasure.
But then, as he finally corners you, you make a split-second decision. Instead of shrinking back or trying to escape, you grab him by the collar and kiss him. The unexpectedness of it hits him like a jolt. Art freezes. His expression loses its usual sadistic glee, replaced by a blank stare that seems to ask, Did you really just do that?
In that moment, Art stands completely still, his hollow eyes wide with something close to confusion. He’s used to fear and screams, to people breaking under his relentless pursuit—not this. His head tilts slightly, his face twisted in morbid curiosity. He studies you, as if calculating exactly what to make of this strange, bold act. For him, it isn’t affection, and it’s certainly not attraction. Instead, it’s an unexpected disruption—a crack in the usual pattern of fear that he exploits.
Then, that eerie, mocking grin starts to spread across his face again. His lips twist into a grotesque smile, and he pulls back, wiping his mouth with an exaggerated, almost offended gesture. He stares at you, silent and unblinking, and then, in a slow, theatrical gesture, he starts to clap. It’s not applause; it’s mockery, a twisted acknowledgment of the audacity you showed. Art’s expression seems to say, You think you’re clever, don’t you?
And then, just as quickly as he’d frozen, Art’s demeanor shifts again. He leans in close, mimicking the kiss back at you in his own exaggerated, mocking style—blowing a cartoonish kiss with a sardonic gleam in his eye, all while maintaining that unhinged grin. He’s turning your act of defiance into part of his performance, making it clear that, to him, this only adds to his game. The kiss becomes just another tool for him to warp and twist, a new way to unnerve you.
With renewed intensity, Art resumes the hunt, his movements becoming even more exaggerated, his grin even wider. Your act of bravery has only made him more eager to pursue you, to stretch out every ounce of terror he can get. The kiss wasn’t a moment of connection or a way to throw him off entirely; it was simply fuel to his sadism. Now, he’s more invested than ever, excited by the prospect of breaking down this unexpected show of resistance.
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Is it possible for you to make reader who is just like Viktor from Arcane? In terms of personality, past and goals. With Ratio, Aventurine, The Herta, Ruan Mei and Screwllum?
An Elegance of Flaws
Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Ruan Mei x Reader, The Herta x Reader, Screwllum x Reader, Viktor (from Arcane) based Reader, Collaboration, Internal Struggle, Complex Characters, Mentorship, Betrayal, Flaws & Perfection, Anonymity, Ethics of Innovation.
Warnings: Dark themes, Mentions of physical disabilities/injuries, Mentions of obsession and isolation, Mentions of manipulation and exploitation, Emotional tension, Possible self-sacrifice.
A/N: first time writing Screwllum, I still haven't watched Arcane so sorry if it's ooc

The low hum of Penacony's industrial district echoed around you, the staccato rhythm of machines matching the pace of your thoughts. You leaned on the cane in your hand, its polished wood a stark contrast to the soot-covered metal around you. As much as you despised this city, its chaos offered one thing: anonymity. But as your magenta and cyan-eyed companion sauntered into your lab, grinning like a man who’d just rolled a winning hand, anonymity was no longer an option.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the Architect of Revolution,” Aventurine teased, leaning casually against your workbench. His glasses caught the dim light, making his smile even more maddening. “I heard rumors, but I didn’t think even you would risk your name for this. Creating miracles in the slums while dodging the IPC’s gaze? Bold.”
Your jaw tightened as you placed your notes down. "And yet here you are. What’s your game this time, Aventurine? Here to gloat? Or to use my work as another one of your high-stakes gambles?"
His grin faltered for the briefest moment. “Why not both?” He pulled a gold chip from his pocket, flipping it between his fingers. “I know what you’re trying to do, [Name]. Reinvent life, strip it of its flaws, make the world… fairer. It’s noble. Impossible, but noble.”
You turned sharply, the familiar ache in your leg forcing you to adjust your stance. “Impossible is your specialty, isn’t it? You wouldn’t be here unless you saw an angle to exploit.”
Aventurine’s expression softened, his usual flamboyance replaced by something quieter. “Exploiting you? No. I admire you, actually. You’ve taken the cards fate dealt you and reshuffled the deck. But… I’m worried you’ll bet everything and lose yourself in the process. Believe me, I know how that feels.”
You stared at him, searching for mockery but finding none. The mask he wore, the calculated charm, cracked just enough to reveal something raw underneath. Despite yourself, you laughed bitterly. “Coming from the man who’d gamble his soul on a coin toss?”
His grin returned, but it was tinged with regret. “Touché. But if you’re risking it all, maybe let me play too. Two minds like ours? We could rewrite the rules together.”

The vast dome of the Intelligentsia Guild library stretched above you, its vaulted ceiling painted with constellations of knowledge. Rows of books and holographic interfaces surrounded you, but your focus was on the intricate mechanism before you—a device meant to stabilize organic matter during transformation. It was your life's work, but even now, it felt incomplete.
“Your equations lack elegance,” a voice called from behind. You turned, finding Ratio standing there, arms crossed, his hair catching the soft glow of the library's lights. His eyes were sharp as ever.
You leaned on your cane, raising an eyebrow. “If you’re here to critique, Dr. Ratio, don’t bother. Elegance is secondary to functionality.”
He stepped closer, examining the device with a critical eye. “Functionality without elegance is like a star that doesn’t shine. It works, but it doesn’t inspire.” He glanced at you. “Your mind is exceptional. Why settle for mediocrity?”
You frowned, turning back to your notes. “Because inspiration doesn’t save lives. This will.”
Ratio’s gaze softened, though his tone remained precise. “And yet, your obsession with saving lives blinds you to the consequences. I’ve read your research, [Name]. You want to fix the flaws in humanity, but at what cost? How much of yourself will you sacrifice before you realize perfection doesn’t exist?”
You slammed your hand on the table, the frustration boiling over. “You think I don’t know that? I’ve lived my entire life shackled by imperfection—my body, my past, this broken world. I’m not chasing perfection. I’m chasing freedom.”
Silence fell between you, broken only by the faint hum of machinery. Ratio sighed, stepping closer. “Freedom is a worthy pursuit. But even the greatest minds need a foundation, someone to steady them when they falter.” He placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch surprisingly gentle. “Let me be that for you.”
For a moment, you allowed yourself to believe him, to imagine a partnership that didn’t end in betrayal or loss. “If you’re offering your help,” you said quietly, “be prepared to see the worst of me.”
Ratio smiled faintly. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

The lab was cold, the sterile white walls reflecting the icy demeanor of its sole occupant. Ruan Mei stood at the far end, her eyes fixed on a series of holographic projections detailing the evolution of a new species she’d been cultivating. She didn’t look up as you entered, though you knew she’d registered your presence.
“You’re late,” she said, her voice as cool as the lab’s atmosphere. “I thought precision was important to you.”
Leaning on your cane, you gave a faint smirk. “And I thought warmth was important to life, yet here we are.”
Her gaze flicked toward you, a faint twitch of her lips betraying amusement. “Touché. What brings you here, [Name]? Surely you have more pressing experiments than interrupting mine.”
You moved to the workstation beside hers, placing your prototype on the surface. “I need your insight. The molecular structure is stable, but the integration process fails every time. I thought… maybe you’d see something I don’t.”
She studied you for a long moment, her usually impassive face betraying a hint of curiosity. “You’re admitting you need help? That’s… unexpected.”
You chuckled, though the sound was bitter. “Even I have limits, Ruan Mei. I just hate that I’m reminded of them so often.”
She stepped closer, her hands brushing over the device. “Limits are what define us. They’re also what drive us to innovate.” Her eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw something other than cold intellect—a flicker of understanding, even kinship. “You remind me of myself, in a way. Always chasing something… unattainable.”
“Perfection?” you asked quietly.
“Meaning,” she corrected. Her voice softened, and she turned back to the device. “Let me help you, [Name]. Not because I think you’ll succeed, but because I want to see what happens when two flawed minds work together.”
You hesitated, the weight of her words settling over you. “Fair enough,” you said finally. “But don’t expect me to share credit.”
She smirked faintly. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The dim light of the mechanized workshop cast long shadows across the intricate gears and cogs spread across your desk. The soft, rhythmic tick of the clock overhead was your only companion as you tinkered with the device before you. The design was elegant but flawed, its energy distribution uneven, its purpose incomplete. You sighed, leaning heavily on your cane, the ache in your leg a familiar reminder of your own imperfections.
A voice interrupted the quiet. Smooth, refined, and tinged with amusement. “You’re going to wear yourself out, [Name]. Even the greatest minds require rest.”
You didn’t look up. “Rest doesn’t bring progress, Screwllum.”
He stepped into the light, his polished frame catching the glow of your desk lamp. His cape swayed as he moved, and his hat tilted slightly, casting a shadow over his glowing eyes. His presence was commanding yet unintrusive, like a puzzle piece slipping perfectly into place.
Screwllum examined your work with a calculating gaze. “You’ve overcompensated for the energy loss in the auxiliary channels. It’s elegant but redundant.” He paused, his head tilting slightly. “Much like your insistence on bearing every burden alone.”
You bristled, gripping your cane tighter. “And what would you know about burdens, Screwllum? You, with your perfectly crafted design and flawless movements.”
He knelt beside you, his mechanical hand tracing the device’s intricate patterns. “More than you might think. Perfection is an illusion, [Name]. One I’ve spent lifetimes chasing. But in my pursuit, I’ve come to realize something.” He glanced up at you, his cyan gaze piercing. “It’s the flaws that make the design meaningful.”
Your jaw tightened. “Meaning doesn’t solve problems. It doesn’t make the world better.”
“Perhaps not,” he admitted, standing gracefully. “But neither does burning yourself out in isolation. Let me help. Together, we might find a solution even you couldn’t imagine alone.”
For a moment, you hesitated. The pride that kept you locked in your solitude warred with the small, desperate part of you that longed for understanding. Finally, you stepped aside, gesturing to the device. “If you think you can improve it, be my guest.”
Screwllum smiled, a faint flicker of light in his expression. “Consider it a collaboration.”
And as his mechanical hands worked alongside yours, for the first time in a long while, the weight on your shoulders felt just a little lighter.

The faint light of the workshop filled the room, its ever-expanding landscapes swirling in holographic projections around you. You leaned on your cane, staring at the interface with a mixture of awe and frustration. The calculations refused to align, their inconsistencies gnawing at your mind like an itch you couldn’t scratch.
“Fascinating,” a voice drawled behind you. “Even someone as brilliant as you can stumble.”
You turned sharply, finding Herta lounging against the doorway, her arms crossed and a bemused smile playing on her lips. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and her hair framed a face that seemed untouched by the years. She looked entirely too amused by your struggle.
“I wasn’t aware I’d invited an audience,” you said dryly, adjusting your stance to ease the ache in your leg. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Madam Herta?”
She sauntered closer, her dress swishing around her ankles. “I heard rumors that the infamous [Name] was working on something groundbreaking. Naturally, I had to see if they were true.” Her gaze flicked to the calculations on your screen. “And I must say, I’m not disappointed.”
You frowned, turning back to the interface. “If you’re here to gloat, save it. I don’t have time for games.”
“Gloat?” she repeated, feigning offense. “I would never. I’m simply curious. You’re like a puzzle, [Name]. A broken masterpiece trying to make the world whole. It’s… endearing.”
Your grip on your cane tightened. “Spare me the poetry, Herta. If you have something useful to contribute, say it. Otherwise—”
“Otherwise what?” she interrupted, stepping closer. Her voice softened, losing its playful edge. “You’ll keep pushing yourself until there’s nothing left? Don’t pretend I don’t see the parallels, [Name]. You’re chasing perfection just like I did. And it will cost you.”
You glared at her, the anger bubbling up despite the quiet truth of her words. “What would you have me do, then? Abandon my work? Watch people suffer because I wasn’t strong enough to finish what I started?”
“No,” she said simply. “I’d have you remember that genius doesn’t mean isolation. Even the brightest stars shine brighter with others around them.” She placed a hand on your shoulder, her touch unexpectedly gentle. “Let me help you, [Name]. Not because I think you need it, but because I want to see what someone like you can achieve when they’re not carrying the weight of the world alone.”
You stared at her, searching for the mockery you’d expected but finding none. Slowly, you nodded. “Fine. But don’t get in my way.”
Herta smiled, a glimmer of triumph in her eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

#x reader#honkai star rail#hsr#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#hsr aventurine#aventurine x reader#hsr aventurine x reader#aventurine x you#ratio x reader#ratio x you#herta x reader#the herta x reader#ruan mei x reader#screwllum x reader#viktor arcane#collaboration#betrayal#inner struggles#complex characters#mentorship#flaws and perfection#anonymity#ethics of innovation#hsr x you#hsr x y/n#hsr x gender neutral reader#honkai sr#honkai star rail x you#honkai star rail x gender neutral reader
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Hiiiiiii can you write something about reader trying to breakup with phsycotic/yandere Chan 🥺 Only if you can babes❤️
♡ breaking up with a psychotic bang chan ♡
psychotic bang chan x afab reader | dead dove | nsfw (MDNI)
p.s. i hope this is to your liking, anon!
⚠︎ tw: non-consensual elements (i.e. forced breeding), physical violence, threats of murder
✧・゚: psychotic!chan will emotionally manipulate you *✧・゚:*
Chan resorts to intense emotional manipulation, exploiting your insecurities and fears to make you feel guilty and unworthy. He convinces you that no one else could ever love you as he does and that leaving him would be the worst mistake of your life. He recounts every positive moment you two have shared and proclaims these moments cannot be recreated with another. Essentially, you are manipulated into questioning whether ending things with him is the right choice.
"Baby, you're not making sense. After everything we've been through, after all the time I've poured into loving you despite your flaws, why would you want to give up on us—on me? Who else is going to take the time to learn how to love you unconditionally?"
✧・゚: psychotic!chan will physically abuse you *✧・゚:*
Chan uses physical violence to assert his control over you and instill fear. He yanks you close by the hair, roughly wrapping your locks around his fist so tightly that your scalp pulsates for hours afterwards. He also enjoys choking you until you almost pass out, slamming you into walls with a grip around your throat that leave behinds finger-tip shaped bruises. Whenever you're helplessly within his grasp like this, Chan leans in incredibly close and makes it clear with a cold, stern expression that he won't tolerate any of your attempts to leave. The violence is terrifying, but Chan deems it necessary to keep from losing you.
"I'm trying to be patient with you, baby, because I love you to fucking pieces, but you're being so damn difficult. Every time you try to leave me, it brings me closer and closer to snuffing your life out, because if I can't have you in this life, I damn sure will in the next. Don't make me go there, baby. No more talk of leaving, yeah?"
✧・゚: psychotic!chan will forcibly breed you *✧・゚:*
Chan is desperate to bind you to him for the rest of your lives. He believes that having a child together will ensure you can never leave him. He sabotages your birth control by replacing your contraceptive medication with disguised sleeping pills. Several times a week, you wake up to Chan thrusting wildly inside of you, whispering potential baby names with each forceful, animalistic thrust. And when he paints the inside of your womb white, he whispers to you how pretty you'll be as a mother and how excited he is to watch your tummy grow from his seed. All you can do is lay there, feeling full and hot inside, tears beading in the corner of your eyes as you realize you don't remember the last time you had a period.
"Oh, shi—Gonna fuck a daycare into you, y/n! Gonna keep you plump and round and full. You'll make such a perfect mommy, baby! You'd never abandon me then, right? How could you when we'd have Tzu...Yeong...Byeol...Eun...Iseul...Wonsi—"

#bang chan#skz bang chan#bang chan x reader#skz bang chan x reader#bang chan imagines#bang chan headcanons#skz x reader#skz headcanons#skz imagines#yandere skz#yandere bang chan#yandere!bang chan#yandere!skz x reader#skz#dead dove do not eat#anon request#sadseungmin
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Just had an idea based of one our convo’s!
Jade with a devil reader. The two of them have been trying to out wit each other for hours but then…she made one little mistake and in an instant a chain and collar appeared on her neck.
And the devil sits on the table, a smirk on their face as they “prepare” themselves for a night of fun and to dominate the woman who thought herself to be “oh so clever”.
Never try and outwit a devil.
With (platonic) love, Oxy, “Source of good ideas”
HAHA oh she kinda dumb for this actually
Jade trying to outwit you under the sheer curiosity about what she could do with The Literal Devil if you're binded under clause and contract to her. Ever since you've brought it up to her, the idea of such a powerful entity being reduced to some sort of pet on a (quite literal) leash has her interests peaked. There's no way she'd dare to back off a really good deal, why would she?
This Stoneheart's so self-assured that she could easily make a deal with no issues on her part and satisfaction for the other's side until it's time to pay the price......and that makes the phantom feeling of a cold collar snapping on her neck feel all the more 'worse', and your expression doesn't necessarily make it all better
Oh!! She FUCKED UP!!! It's VERY clear she lost the power struggle and it's evident that she KNOWS it too with the way she's looking at you, her constant mask of mocking indifference actually shattered and replaced with a reluctant fear at the realisation that she isn't the one in control—she is the one trapped. And that all simultaneously turns into some sort of thrill when she does realise that she was playing a far more dangerous game than she thought; perhaps Aventurine had rubbed off on her...
Not like she could ever refuse anything that you give her now either!!! Have her use her hands and her mouth for a much more beneficial reason for the both of you, fill all her holes with your fingers or toys (or if you wanna go the extra mile, tailplay's a thing), tie her up and tease her until she's leaking with the prelude of her many ruined orgasms or overstimulate her until even the slightest touch on now-flushed skin is enough to have her twitching.......
Best part is that not only does Jade seem to enjoy the exploitation, come the next day when the contract's expired and she's set free, amongst her remaining haze (HA) left in her mind by the subspace she was pushed into, she's thinking of whether to try to outwit you again, risk be damned. If she wins, she'd personally love to pull you in by the horns. If she loses?
She doesn't mind feeling 'hopeless' all over again 🥰 gaining more perspective or whatever
#hazy samples!#hazy explicits!#hazy features!#jade x reader#hsr jade x reader#jade smut#hsr jade smut#sub jade#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail imagines#honkai star rail smut#sub honkai star rail#hsr x reader#hsr imagines#hsr smut#sub hsr#hsr women x reader#hsr women imagines#hsr women smut#sub hsr women
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On Kurapika's Self-Imposed Isolation
While I recognize that probably everything I'm about to say is going to be super obvious, I just wanted to briefly touch on Kurapika's self-isolation, and the reason behind his not picking up his phone or exchanging anything more than clipped words and business after Yorknew.
I think the obvious answer is that Kurapika doesn't want his friends in harms way, or to be used as a bargaining tool against him. This is an understandable and probably accurate conclusion. After all, Gon and Killua did get taken hostage, and Kurapika was forced to negotiate an exchange. Chrollo picked up on Kurapika's "weakness" right away - that he values his friends' safety before his revenge. Fortunately for Kurapika in this situation, Pakunoda was a whole lot more similar to him than he would've cared to admit, as she placed a value on Chrollo's life even though everyone in the Spider was intended to be replaceable. So, now that he's been through Gon and Killua having potentially gotten killed or seriously hurt, and Chrollo knows that he has a soft spot for them, it does make sense that he would try to push them away for their safety and for the sake of not having an exploitable "weakness" in future. He may also not want to burden them more when they have their own lives to live - he does slip off without telling Gon and Killua for the sake of not distracting them from Nen training, after all.
Except that he already tried all this earlier in Yorknew arc. He tried to tell them they shouldn't get involved, and they all agreed that the risks were massive - but his friends agreed to undergo the risks anyways to help him. Kurapika was even grateful for it - "I have been blessed with good friends."
So, for him to push them away solely for this reason after the fact, knowing that this was very much a likely situation to happen, is a little odd to me. Kurapika knows full well that Leorio would be frustrated, Killua would be offended and Gon would worry. So, I think there's a little more to it than that, and I actually would venture to say that "keeping his friends out of danger" is more a secondary reason for his actions - one that would come across as more of a reasonable excuse to others.
The primary reason is likely a lot more selfish than that. Kurapika has to ensure his mission comes first. And unfortunately, he is fully aware that his path and choice in abilities is deeply self-destructive.
Kurapika needs to make sure that he doesn't have exploitable weaknesses, sure, but he also just as much needs to purposefully worsen his headspace - and he can't do that with those three around.
Think back, what are the happiest moments we see from Kurapika in the series? The one that comes to mind first, and the one I'm sure most of us will think of immediately, is this:

[ID: A screenshot from the 2011 anime adaptation. Kurapika smiles - he looks at ease. End ID.]
It's one of the sweetest scenes of the series imo, right before the whole group is reunited for the first time since the Zoldyck Family arc, and it's even more notable because it comes immediately on the tail end of this...
[ID: Three panels from HxH Chapter 101. Kurapika removes his contacts over the sink. His expression is distant. End ID.]
...and this...
[ID: A panel from HxH Chapter 101. A close up of Kurapika's vacant and furious expression, his eyes wide and dangerous as he says "It might as well be you." Though the art is in black and white, it's apparent his eyes have gone scarlet. End ID.]
...and this.
[ID: A panel from HxH Chapter 101. A distant Kurapika speaks on the phone on a rooftop at night, the cityscape of Yorknew around him dark, but speckled with lights and stars. He says "The Spiders are dead." His face is not visible to the reader. End ID.]
This is, up to this point in the series, Kurapika at his lowest. In contrast to Gon, who is happy to hear that the Spiders are dead already because now Kurapika can focus solely on finding his peoples' eyes, Kurapika... is clearly not happy - and that's because killing the Spiders himself isn't just revenge. It's penance. It's survivor's guilt. Kurapika's powers, which Izunavi even comments sound much like he is chaining himself in the process of chaining his enemies, are oh-so-beautifully prophecied to destroy him - and Kurapika was aware of this from the moment he set off down this path of revenge.
(As a side note, this is why I'm really hoping we see Gon and Kurapika interact again after the Chimera Ant arc - while Gon has always been pretty attentive to Kurapika's emotional state, in Yorknew, he lacks a true understanding of why Kurapika would go so far... but as of now, he understands rage fueled by guilt and grief all too well. I know we're all rooting for Leorio to reach Kurapika, but barring that, I really think Gon could get through to him - after all, they are similar in several ways, and I find it fairly apparent that Gon reminds Kurapika of Pairo.)
But back to the main point here - I do suspect Kurapika expects (if not wants) his revenge mission to destroy him. I think a lot of times, we forget just how young Kurapika is, and how much his character is dictated by honour, and the abandonment of it.
Certainly, he can and will go against his principles for the sake of his mission... yet, almost paradoxically, he's bound to his promise to his fallen clan; a promise to avenge them made in anger.
But Kurapika... doesn't come across as a naturally angry person to me at all.
He seems like the stoic, vengeful type on his initial introduction... and then we get his panic at Gon's recklessness
[ID: A panel from HxH Chapter 2. Kurapika and Leorio wear matching expressions of panic in front of Gon, calling him out for his recklessness. End ID.]
...and his near-immediate forgiveness of Leorio after getting the first inkling of his character - of someone who cares just as fiercely as he does.
And after that point? Almost all through the Hunter Exam? Kurapika smiles so readily at them. He's sharp and funny. He mediates at times, but is stubbornly prideful in others. He's very amused by his friends' antics, and it really does seem like he starts to enjoy himself, with them. And, more than that, he counters Leorio's initial impression of him as an independent loner - on several occasions. He decides to follow Gon because Gon intrigues him. Asides from Gon, it is Kurapika who is the most unwilling to fight each other at the bottom of Trick Tower. Kurapika who makes the first move to team up with Leorio, even though that arrangement benefits Leorio much more than it does him. Kurapika who refuses to abandon Leorio to his fate in the cave, and who checks on Gon after noticing his bad mood. Who was furious enough watching him get beat down by Hanzo that his eyes went scarlet for the first and only instance outside of Spider mentions and Emperor Time. Who quite readily detoured to help rescue Killua.
[ID: Three screenshots from the 2011 adaptation Hunter Exam arc. In the first, Kurapika smiles at a sleeping Leorio. In the second, Kurapika stifles laughter as he pretends he's asleep. In the third, Kurapika has an open-mouthed smile as he acquires the airship tickets for them, Leorio and Gon standing behind him. End ID.]
Look at him! He's so bright! So happy!
...too happy. Too happy to do what he promised himself he would do. And that's his biggest fear, isn't it. Without his rage... what is he left with?
[ID: A panel from HxH chapter 2. A close up of Kurapika's eye as he says "I do not fear death. What I fear is that my rage will one day fade away." End ID.]
Kurapika is far, far less mired in anger when he's with his friends. I actually dare to say that at certain points, he was able to go for lengths of time without thinking much about it - alternating between almost forgetting in one instance and being hit like a sledgehammer on exposure to a reminder in the next. This violent swing is... actually the beginnings of the natural process of healing from loss and trauma. But to Kurapika, who's made a promise to his people's memories, this is not a relief. This is betrayal.
I think that actually scares him, that he can almost picture it. A life beyond his guilt. That he, too, could learn to be happy, even after unimaginable loss.
And so, as Kurapika continues his mission offscreen, finding more and more gruesome reminders of the cruelty inflicted on his people and losing more and more pieces of himself in the process (in his own words, no less), he prioritizes his responsibility to them, and pushes away his distractions. He cannot be a soul at peace until his work is done; he must be in turmoil. He pushes people away who he cares for, and binds himself, and keeps his people's eyes on him, quite literally, because respite, for him, is unacceptable. Perhaps that guilty part of him even hopes, by the end of this, that his soul will be so unrecognizable as to be fundamentally unsalvageable. But the truth of the matter is, or at least what comes across to me, is that Kurapika cares much more fiercely than he hates. He knows what matters most. And for as long as he does, he still hasn't truly lost himself.

[ID: A panel from HxH chapter 350. Kurapika looks down at baby Woble with a gentle, yet complicated expression. The inking is somewhat softer. End ID.]
Kurapika's soul is kind, really. And it wants to heal - but for the sake of his mission, he needs it damaged and bleeding. And so, he forces himself to exist in that pain. All alone.
[ID: A panel from HxH Chapter 344. Kurapika, dressed in a black suit, sits with his back to the reader, looking down at a photo in his hand. He is slumped a little before the church vigil he has prepared, all his clan's eyes lined up in their jars and honoured with flowers and candles. He thinks to himself "There is no home for me to return to... and nobody to welcome me back. I have nothing left." End ID.]
#thank you for coming to my ted talk on how kurapika is worsening his own mental health as well as physical health on purpose have a good day#oh my god this took me so long but it was worth it!!!#actual analysis!!! it's been so long!!!#anyways i'm far shakier on my hxh knowledge than other fandoms i've written meta for#so i hope this makes sense. i appreciate additions to it just please be polite!#i also believe that togashi's writing lends itself to multiple interpretations that are equally valid. so much of this#may be my own takeaway. but i do think there's enough evidence to support it#well. i hope you guys suffer... i mean enjoy.#storyrambles#hunter x hunter#hxh#hxh meta#kurapika#call me ace detective the way i am ace. and also a detective#<-analysis tag i missed you
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Sauron and the real reason he fought those men in Númenor.
Okay, I was rewatching Season 1 of The Rings of Power, and I noticed something interesting.
In the episode where Sauron talks to those men, they tell him that Galadriel would never want him, among other things. At first, you can clearly see him looking irritated, as if he's about to kill them, but he holds back for some reason.

Anyway, what I want to highlight is the way Sauron takes the emblem from the man—it’s very obvious, almost as if he wanted the man to notice.

If he wanted to, he could have done it without raising any suspicion, just like he recovered Galadriel’s dagger without anyone realizing.


Here’s my theory: Sauron viewed Númenor as a paradise of opportunities (as he himself stated) and wanted to stay there to exploit every possible advantage.

Galadriel, who acted impulsively and without much organization, was an obstacle to his plans.


At first, I think Sauron found Galadriel’s impulsiveness a bit annoying. This is evident when he drops his facade and argues with her in the dungeons, saying something like, “You act like a horse at full gallop,” referring to her impulsive and rash behavior.



As I mentioned, it annoyed him, but at the same time, he expressed his admiration for her. He admired Galadriel’s obstinacy and bravery—she’s unashamedly bold.


So, I think the reason Sauron fought with those men was mainly to speed up Galadriel’s departure from Númenor. His fight with them was primarily to sway public opinion and further stoke dislike toward the Elves, Galadriel being one of them.

Pharazôn, on the other hand, tried to calm the people by assuring them no Elf would replace them, and, to appease them, he likely went to Míriel to hasten Galadriel’s departure.


As for Sauron, he stood to gain since the only one leaving Númenor would be Galadriel, not him.

He would remain in his cell. I think he initially didn’t plan to hit those men; perhaps he just wanted to be accused of theft. But he ended up fighting them because they hit him first.


Now, back to the main point. After Galadriel acted recklessly, Sauron seized the opportunity to manipulate her into doing what he wanted. He used his ability to identify his enemy's desires to "fulfill" them and bend them to his will. Galadriel’s desire was to get a troop, and when she realized she couldn’t persuade Míriel, Sauron suggested she speak with her father, the king in the tower.
Galadriel, thinking she had solved the issue, fled when Pharazôn arrived. But in reality, the one who had won was Sauron.

Before Galadriel escaped, Sauron told Pharazôn something like, “You’ll let her go if you know where she’s headed,” hinting that he would reveal Galadriel’s destination in exchange for a reward: an emblem and freedom from the dungeons.


This way, Sauron changed his fate, staying longer in Númenor, while Galadriel left empty-handed.
The only thing Sauron didn’t anticipate was Galadriel teaching him the power of friendship and the value of teamwork. The rest is history. He developed feelings for her.

Although I still faithfully believe that Galadriel's arrogance was what seemed attractive to him from the very first moment, because despite carrying out his plans, he allowed himself to flirt with her and, you know, try to make her nervous.

There's whole matter of pride, and Galadriel herself, was attractive enough for him—until Galadriel rejected him, of course.



#galadriel#saurondriel#haladriel#rings of power#rop#halbrand#trop season 2#sauron#the rings of power#trop#trop season 1
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Do you think the new division of Cartoon Network Studios will end up exploiting and abusing AI to make new cartoons of their old properties?
I wouldn't put it past any studio to do this.
We're at the end of The Animation Industry As We Know It, so studios are going to do anything and everything they can to stay alive.
The way I see it is:
AI "art" isn't actually art. Art is created by humans to express ideas and emotions. Writing prompts allows a computer to interpret human ideas and emotions by taking other examples of those things and recombining them.
Just because something isn't art doesn't mean that humans can't understand it or find it beautiful. We passed a really fun prompt generation milestone about a year ago where everything looked like it was made by a Dadaist or someone on heavy psychedelics. Now we're at the Uncanny Valley stage. Soon, you won't be able to tell the difference.
It's not just drawings and paintings that are effected, but writing and film. It's every part of the entertainment industry. And the genie is out of the bottle. I've seen people saying that prompt-based image generators have "democratized" art. And I see where they're coming from. In ten years, I can easily see a future where anyone can sit down at their desk, have a short conversation with their computer, and have a ready-to-watch, custom movie with flawless special effects, passable story, and a solid three act structure. You want to replace Harrison Ford in Star Wars with your little brother and have Chewbacca make only fart sounds, and then they fly to Narnia and fistfight Batman? Done.
But, sadly, long before we reach that ten year mark, the bots will get hold of this stuff and absolutely lay waste to existing art industries. Sure, as a prompter I guess you can be proud of the hours or days you put into crafting your prompts, but you know what's better than a human at crafting prompts? Bots. Imagine bots cranking out hundreds of thousands of full-length feature films per minute. The noise level will squash almost any organic artist or AI prompter out of existence.
AI images trivialize real art. The whole point of a studio is to provide the money, labor, and space to create these big, complicated art projects. But if there are no big, complicated art projects, no creatives leading the charge, and no employees to pay... what the fuck do we need studios for? We won't, but their sheer wealth and power will leave them forcing themselves on us for the rest of our lives.
The near future will see studios clamp down on the tech in order to keep it in their own hands. Disney does tons of proprietary tech stuff, so I'm sure they're ahead of the game. Other studios will continue to seek mergers until they can merge with a content distribution platform. I've heard rumors of Comcast wanting to buy out either WB or Nick. That's the sort of thing I'm talking about. The only winners of this game will be the two or three super-huge distribution platforms who can filter out enough of the spam (which they themselves are likely perpetuating) to provide a reasonable entertainment experience.
400,000 channels and nothing's on.
I do think that money will eventually make the "you can't copyright AI stuff" thing go away. There's also the attrition of "Oh, whoops! We accidentally put an AI actor in there and no one noticed for five years, so now it's cool."
One way or another, it's gonna be a wild ride. As the canary in the coal mine, I hope we can all get some UBI before I'm forced to move into the sewers and go full C.H.U.D.
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why exactly are anarchists so detached from communism? I feel like they might have somewhat similiar goals but clearly theres some issue that makes them unable to cooperate
is it just the anarchist's rejection of even socialist states as bad?
The line of thinking that anarchists and communists share the same goals, namely the destruction of class oppression, money and the state, is a superficial but nevertheless common and easy mistake to make, one which I think most communists have made at one point. The disagreement seems to merely have to do with the question of the state and how to use it (or not use it), and the velocity with which those abolitions should be sought. But this disagreement is not the real core of the question, it's the main symptom of the actual difference.
The difference lies in the use of two completely different frameworks of analysis. Let's continue using the argument around the state to explain the difference. Anarchists believe¹ that the state itself is simultaneously the cause and perpetuator of class oppression, or oppression in general. Therefore, abolish the state, and everything else comes tumbling down by its own weight. Marxists, on the other hand, hold that the state, while it is a perpetuator of class oppression, it is not a cause, rather, the state fits into a larger relation between the superstructure and the infrastructure. The latter contains everything directly related to the mode of production and its associated processes and relations. The former contains everything else in a society, including the state, but also the police, the media, education, etc. The infrastructure supports the superstructure, while the superstructure protects and justifies the infrastructure. The state protects the mode of production, which is the actual source of class exploitation, but it's the mode of production that supports the existence of the state.
By destroying a state in any practical sense, you destroy the best tool the proletariat has to protect its own interests during the process of completely transforming society into a communist one. The state is a tool of class oppression, of any class unto any class. If the proletariat as a class take control of the state, after having replaced the mode of production to a collectivized one, then the state will serve to oppress the bourgeoisie as a class to protect the now non-exploitative mode of production. If you destroy this tool, the proletariat is left defenseless against the still powerful external threats and the extant internal threats.
Identifying the state as a source of oppression in and of itself comes from a liberal framework, in which any expression of oppression becomes the oppression itself, and in which tails wag their dogs. Beyond this superficially narrow but deeply broad difference in frameworks, the actual practical instances of that flawed liberal framework are inefficient, counterproductive and at times dangerous actions. Cooperation is possible, nothing further from the truth, but it benefits no one to do so under the impression that it's a cooperation born of similar outlooks on the world. It's a contextual cooperation born of a common opposition, which is not a sufficient requirement to define a useful and progressive course of action.
because of reasons I could be very mean about, it's nigh-impossible to come up with a deeper definition of anarchist ideas without some anarchist or other popping up about how the anarchism they believe in does not actually contain that definition. For the sake of this post, I'm not going to placate this by amending every statement with "most anarchists", "almost all anarchists", and other such expressions.
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