—The moment it happens, Asra’s entire world stops breathing. One second you’re laughing, the next you’re between them and a blade, and then you’re on the ground with blood on your shirt and your smile flickering.
—They drop beside you instantly, trembling hands already glowing with healing light, voice breaking on your name: “No, no, no— stay with me, love, stay with me.”
—The rational part of their mind dissolves. They pour every ounce of magic they have into your wound, ignoring the burns crawling up their own arms, whispering frantic promises: “I can fix this. You’ll be okay. You always make it okay.”
—The guilt is suffocating. You protected them, them, the one who was supposed to protect you. They can’t comprehend it. Their whole being is wired for self-sacrifice; they never imagined you’d do the same.
—When you finally stabilize, Asra refuses to leave your side. They sleep sitting up, head against your shoulder, pulse pressed to yours just to make sure you’re still there.
—Later, when you joke about it (“Hey, at least I made a good shield”), Asra just stares at you with tear-bright eyes and whispers, “Don’t ever do that again. I’d rather be gone than see you fall for me.”
JULIAN
—For a heartbeat, he doesn’t even realize what’s happened. He was supposed to take that blow, it was his duel, his mistake… and then suddenly, it’s you lying there.
—The way he screams your name could wake the dead.
—He falls to his knees, blood smearing across his gloves as he tries to hold you together with shaking hands. His voice breaks on apologies, curses, prayers, all tangled into a frantic litany: “No no no no, please, gods, take me instead.”
—Every trauma, every failure floods back. You were his light, his one proof that he could do something right, and now you’re fading because of him.
—He doesn’t stop talking while the healers work. He tells you stories, half-mad, to keep you anchored. Recounts the first time he saw you smile, the first time you scolded him, the first time he realized he was in love.
—When you finally wake up, he laughs and cries at once, clutching your face like you might vanish. “Don’t you ever do that again,” he says, voice hoarse. “If anyone’s going to make reckless, life-threatening decisions around here, it’s me.”
NADIA
—It happens too fast. You push her out of the way, take the hit meant for her, and in that instant, the Duchess disappears. Nadia the woman takes over.
—Her scream echoes through the marble halls like thunder. She drops to her knees, ripping a strip of her gown to staunch the bleeding with trembling hands that have never trembled before.
“Stay awake,” she orders, voice cracking. “That’s an order, do you hear me?” But there’s nothing commanding about it, only pleading.
—She calls for healers, for guards, for anyone. But she refuses to let go of you. Blood stains her sleeves, her rings, her hair. She doesn’t care.
—When you finally stir hours later, she’s still there with the eyes rimmed red and crown discarded somewhere on the floor. She takes your hand and presses her forehead to it.
“You fool,” she whispers, half-sobbing, half-laughing. “You absolute, magnificent fool. I should imprison you for terrifying me like that.”
MURIEL
—The world narrows to sound: the impact, your gasp and his own heart pounding. He doesn’t even think. He’s beside you in seconds, lifting you with the gentleness of someone holding the last fragile piece of his soul.
—His hands are huge and clumsy, slick with blood. He keeps whispering your name, over and over, like it’s a spell that might wake you.
—Muriel has faced beasts, curses and exile. But this kind of fear is new. He can’t fight it with strength. He can only hold you and hope you keep breathing.
—When Asra or Nadia arrives to heal you, he doesn’t move away. He just keeps your hand in his, jaw clenched so tight it aches.
—For days after, he barely speaks. The guilt eats at him, the idea that you were hurt because of him, because you thought his life was worth protecting. He can’t accept that.
—When you finally sit up, pale but smiling, he almost crumples. You reach for him, and he hesitates, afraid to touch you, afraid he’ll break you again, until you insist. Then he buries his face against your neck, silent tears soaking your skin.
PORTIA
—The moment you push her out of harm’s way, she doesn’t even process it. One blink, and suddenly you’re bleeding.
“No no no no, hey— hey— look at me!” She’s on the ground beside you, hands pressing against the wound even though she’s shaking. “You’re okay, you’re okay, I’m right here, we’re fine—” She’s not fine.
—When the healers come, they have to physically pull her back because she won’t stop talking to you, begging you to stay awake. She’ll pace the hallway for hours, blood still on her hands, refusing to rest.
—When you finally regain consciousness, she collapses beside your bed, head in her arms, sobbing with relief.
“You idiot,” she mumbles between hiccups. “You could’ve died, and then who would I annoy all day?”
—But later, when it’s just you and her in the candlelight, she gets quieter. Her hands tremble as she cups your face, voice small: “Don’t ever think I’m not worth saving, okay? But don’t you ever trade yourself for me again.”
LUCIO
—Lucio has always believed himself invincible…until you throw yourself in front of him. The sight of you taking the hit meant for him breaks something fundamental.
“No— no no no, don’t you dare—” He’s yelling before he even reaches you, his hands frantically trying to stop the bleeding, his voice raw.
—For once, he’s not thinking about image or pride, just you. “You weren’t supposed to do that! I can handle it, I always handle it—” His words crumble into panic.
—He carries you himself, shouting for healers, refusing to let anyone else touch you. His armor is streaked with your blood by the time you’re stable.
—When you wake, his eyes are red and his hair a mess. The proud Count reduced to a man who’s been sitting in the corner all night, head in his hands.
—The second you speak, he’s at your side, half laughing, half crying: “You absolute maniac. I was supposed to protect you! That’s my whole thing!”
—It shakes him. Not just the fear, but the realization that someone loves him enough to risk themselves. It makes him rethink everything he’s ever believed about strength.
Lol I kinda want to make a game at Dorian Games :]
I've been watching a lot of horror movies with concepts I like: the cursed artifact, halloween vibes, a group of teenagers who do something stupid but decide to solve it, a mystery that lasts no more than about three days...
In short, a good ScoobyDoo episode/movie (yes, I also watched the movies, and remembered why I love them so much).
As some of you know, I have an AU called HintFic. While that AU will continue to exist, I've decided to use the designs (obviously I'm still changing them) to be the romantic interests.
꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦
2.0 version (still a wip, gonna change More things)
꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦
1.0 version (The first redesign attempt)
lol ignore the ages, that's going to change slightly because they're all university students, but the heights will stay more or less the same
